The manor had descended to slumber when I buttoned my overcoat. My lady was holding the cloak uneasily, her eyes searching for reasons to stop me despite knowing about [Quagmire]. Letitia thought I could do anything since I was the great undead, but unassailable powers always come with vulnerability to tag along. Some rules can never be bent, there are forces of nature that can never be tamed, and there is bread that can never be tasted, all to preserve the delicate balance of different realms that seem farfetched for mortals.
I saw my reflection in her glittering eyes, the unfamiliar face often eliciting complicated emotions. These days, though, I had accepted the identity as my own, the body my vessel, the emotions foreign. Because undead were benign beings, and it was impossible for me to get attached to a mere mortal.
The mana lamps flickered. I materialized some mana and transferred some threads to the glowing ball under my lady’s watchful gaze. She hadn’t spoken a word, and I reveled in the silence that brought some peace to my disturbed mind.
“Rudolf,” she tiptoed and wrapped the black cloak around my shoulders. “I feel like a wife sending her husband to war.”
“You are overthinking, my lady,” I sighed. “You are no wife, and I am not going to war. How can puny mortals kill this demon from hell, Letitia?”
Her eyes lost luster, and a somber expression replaced her mischievous glint. “You are just,” she said my name, “for me. I don’t care what mortals called you back in your days, but you can just be who you are here. A man who likes bread? Yes. A man who loves Letitia? Of course. A man who doesn’t understand his emotions? Surely. I have to agree that you enjoy slaughter too much for your own good, but that’s my man! Any normal goody-two-shoes doesn’t even deserve to touch my soles.”
“I think you added a few lies in your monologue,” I chuckled and ruffled her hair. Indeed, she was the first mortal to accept me for what I was. Something even my mother had failed to do.
Letitia smiled brightly and cast away her downcast mood. “Return to me, Rudolf.”
“As long as you live, my lady,” I replied, and she pulled me in her embrace. I rested my chin on her forehead, and when she released me, I disappeared from her side instantly.
[First Step] landed me in the dearth of noble residences, and empty streets twirled towards the prince’s residence. Enormous spiked gates were no different from any influential noble household, but the guards stationed were from the royal army, the strongest of all mortals. The stones climbing the wall had been draped with [Umbra], giving it a glossy appearance that reflected the faint glow of mana in the otherwise deep night.
I moved in the darkness, clinging closer to the wall, and sent my [Devil Eye] to scout the manor. Foliage greeted me first, followed by trees with twirled white cloth strapped at every branch. My eye floated around a ceremonial tree and charged toward the balcony on the first floor. The windows adorned with embroidered curtains didn’t offer anything other than the reflection of the grotesque eye, but the lack of guards made the abandoned balcony my anchor.
I scaled the walls with blitheness and used the tree as my anchor to land on the balcony. The railings were glazed with modified wood, but my eyes were glued to the two silhouettes patrolling the dead lawn. Winter had eaten out most of the lush green vegetation, and naked branches with twigs offered a bleak sign of incoming spring.
The guards walked away without noticing any anomaly, and I tried to open the sliding window before me. Locked, of course. I held to the overhanging eaves and flipped to the roof, the tiles shifting under the weight slightly, making enough noise for anyone inside to unsheath their sword. The room was abandoned, much to my relief, and I let my [Devil eye] disappear into the darkness.
Removing a few tiles wasn’t a formidable task as my hands delicately traced the loose ends that would help me gain access a tad easily. With precision, I had made an entrance large enough for me to leap inside the manor.
This was the reason tiled houses weren’t safe despite the aesthetics they offered. One undead craving bread can easily eat your whole stock of a year.
I lowered myself into the dimly lit room, the candlelight casting my hazy shadows on the bookshelf next to the locked balcony. With a whimper, I hid behind the curtains, cursing my hindsight more than once. This was a study, and the candlelight seemed to indicate that the mortal would be back any time soon.
I cast [Breeze] to put off the candle as soon as the door opened, my stomach churning in response to my spell. I hated wind attribute with a passion, but there was little I could do.
The silhouette just entered the room and lit the candle with [Blast]. Indeed, it gave me away. The curtain wasn’t shadowproof, if that made any sense.
I dashed forth and covered his mouth with my gloved hands. It wasn’t the redhead but a mage from the dress he had adorned. He tried to cast [Explosion], but [Dispel] rendered his spells useless in our little exchange. I poked his eye with my free hands as soon as I cast [Freeze] on his hands, his body shivering despite the numbness of his limbs.
“Inkala?” I asked, dry throat making my voice raspy.
He shook his head desperately as frost climbed his hands.
“Anything more than a whisper will have your head toppling down the stairs.”
I released him slowly, and he indeed obeyed me wordlessly. “I-in the dungeon u-underneath the manor.”
“You mean gallows?” I walked around him to face him. His wrinkled face was draped with red spots, some on the verge of festering. My gloves hadn’t escaped fate either, and I burned them at once, taking a step back from the man.
“Who the fuck summoned demon?!” I asked, trying my best to restrain my voice.
“I-Inkala,” the man said hurridly and leaned against the table. “He isn’t a human anymore. If you are here to kill Inkala, I will gladly lead you to the dungeons. But he is invincible as things stand. The crown prince indulges him, little aware of what has become of the man that once genuinely cared for the fate of the kingdom. I am dying anyway, the Plague will take me before I can watch the kingdom’s ruin.”
I rubbed my temple with my fingers. Demon Plague was the most dangerous disease to ever exist in the history of mankind. I’m talking about thousands of millennia here, not a few centuries.
“You will not step out of this manor until you die,” my voice held the weight of undead, and the man cowered in fright as he nodded. “It’s an incurable disaster! How many are infected?”
“I don’t know,” the man said. “He summoned something weird last week, and my symptoms began last night. I knew it was a Plague, so I tried to shut off the dungeons for good. But the guards are too stubborn to obey some mage’s orders.”
“Who are you?” I asked, dissipating the frost on his hands.
He cast a grateful glance at me and, with a bated breath, clenched and uncleaned his fist. “Imeinal. I was the crown prince’s caretaker. A royal mage before I was assigned to this position.”
“That puts us on the opposite ends of the spectrum, but I will forget our differences for today. We will slaughter everyone in the gallows or dungeon or whatever. No breathing soul should come out of that shithole. You have no idea what kind of disaster that stupid mortal just incurred on the world.”
“Don’t tell me,” his eyes widened, tears forming almost involuntarily, mouth agape. “Demon plague!”
“You bet,” I turned toward the intricately carved door. “You are dead anyway. Don’t you want to save all the people of your loving kingdom? I have seen many mortals sacrifice a thousand to save a gazillion. Do you think you can be one among them?”
His resolve was unmistakable as he wiped the tears threatening to stain his purple embroidered robe. A raven was strapped on it if one looked close enough.
“B-but,” his eyes widened with realization. “Emperor was supposed to visit the gallows yesterday! Do you think-”
My smile widened, and I craned my neck to face him. “Patricide is not unheard of among royalty. Don't act so surprised. We will kill everyone one way or the other, and if we can't find your mortal king, I will hunt him down before he starts spreading the Plague."
His eyes uneasily shifted between my face and the ground.
“Look, Imeinal,” I wore my spare gloves. It was time to manipulate his emotions. “You have to make your stance clear. Do you want to be the crown prince’s caretaker and cause the kingdom's demise, or do you, for once, want to work for the commoners, your brethren, and save the kingdom? My interests are not in the throne but purely to avoid the plague. If there is no royal blood left, others will rise in power to guide your people. But if there is no longer a kingdom, royal blood won’t amount to dirt.”
“I understand,” he clenched his fist and opened the door. “Follow me… I don’t know your name.”
With a grin, I told him my widespread name in the demon realm. My hunch was that this mortal would know enough about the demon realm, and since he was a dead mortal anyway, I didn’t mind some excitement.
I was known by many names, indeed. Given that you have lived over a few thousand millennia, it’s unlikely that there wouldn’t be legends written on your aliases.
He stood rooted on his spot and glanced at me uneasily. “Is it just a-”
“No,” I shrugged. “I am indeed him.”
“W-who summoned you?!” he asked, fear seeping out of his face. He must have realized his fate.
“Do you think I need anyone to summon me?” I laughed and patted his shoulder. “I am helping your people because I have my agenda. It just so happens that we are vying for the same goal and nothing more.”
I followed him on our treacherous journey to the gallows as an executioner, not a condemned soul. I cast [Shadow], melding my presence seamlessly into the darkness around the rough edges of the manor. We descended the twirling stairs, the carpet masking our footsteps. A few guards interrupted our journey, but I slashed across their necks with little remorse. Executioner I was, but I enjoyed slaughter. Incinerating their bodies took some time, but I scattered the ash with my feet to not alert the other guards in the manor.
We sauntered around the pillars holding the stairs in the place, draped in exquisite clothing. I didn’t miss the uneasy glances of the mortal as he guided me to what appeared like a storehouse. The corridors appeared deserted, given that the maids were busy in their dreamland, hoping to attain riches someday.
The door creaked open, and we ambled inside before closing the door behind us. Empty crates were discarded at random around the room, some broken racks filled with abandoned utensils. Cobwebs dangled at the corners, the spiders reminding me of our past plight. The dangling rusted chain pulled my attention, and the mage grabbed it before I could examine it any further.
The floor before us split open, and I saw a wooden ladder descending into the darkness below.
“Is there any other entrance to these gallows?” I asked, keeping my voice as low as possible.
“From the palace, yes,” he replied. “Only the king and royal mages know about it.”
“I suppose no one uses this,” I told the obvious, which earned me a nod in reply.
He descended the ladder ahead of me, and I followed without delay. I could have jumped down with [Gravity] after scouting with [Devil eye], but choosing the hard way was often rewarding for bored undead.
And I was very bored because I had only slaughtered two mortals despite the promise of innumerable. Guess it takes effort to find slaughterable mortals in this effing world.
