Hungry Necromancer

In the morning I tried on my new clothes. I liked it a lot, from the way it felt and the way it looked. Aside from the long silky black cloak with a hood, Garland had gifted me several pairs of fitting black trousers, a short sleeve purple shirt that had this fluff at the neck. He'd also given me a white silk scarf and a belt pouch to keep my many coins. The belt pouch also had a slot for a dagger, though I hadn't gotten one.

All in all, I was finally looking like a decent human being.

Although I felt very swanky, I did feel like I was dressed too swanky for my adoring fans. Prophets and Gurus don't were bling. And silk is a very expensive material if Elsa's slack jawed reaction was anything to go by.

Fortunately, faith looked not at outward appearance or did it? I'm not sure, so many religions to use as a reference.

I got outside and made my way to the tent with the usual horde of men and women following behind. A few waves and smiles and I not so randomly picked out two people from the crowd and summoned their ghostly relatives for them at pace. Three minutes each. I could have them stay longer, up to eight minutes now in fact, but I was trying to solidify my power in the minds of my starry eyed audience. With the confrontation yesterday, even with the buffering crowd of Garland supporters, I didn't feel like taking any chances.

My paranoia was justified when it started. It unironically started out as a food fight. People were either sitting or standing around in a circle as I spoke briefly on the requirements for being chosen. I didn't tell them the truth of course, but as I was dodging and evading questions my eyes caught some strange activity going on at the edge of the circle.

A man, standing side stepped to his right, deftly dodging a flying half-eaten apple, it lands on the head of the person behind him and he prepares for the next flying fruit. This time he catches it in his hand and returns it with such vigour I thought for sure his arm would go flying.

"Get out of here you criminal!"

That did it. Suddenly everyone is on their feet and their eyes are drawn to the light commotion. It is the Mayor.

He is flanked by a few guards and surrounded by many peasants. Not enough to outnumber my horde of about fifty but just enough to make a point. They were here for trouble.

Before I knew it lines were drawn and apples and cabbages change to shovels and pitchforks. But the Mayor had the real weapons. The unsheathing sound of a single of his guard's sword was enough to get many of my people to back away. He'd come ready for a fight.

"Make way or be cut down here and now!"

"Bring the Necromage forward!"

From what I'd learned of the Mayor, those threats were to be taken seriously. I pushed my way out the front, calming as many as I could on the way. No use for something that could be settled with myself alone to sacrifice the lives of others no?

At the front I find Perlman looking dabber than yesterday, he wore a long blue robe and held a staff in his hand and most of his fingers were littered with rings of various colours. Beside him was the Diviner, looking crotchety as ever and attempting to set me ablaze with his eyes alone.

"Foul one," Perlman starts off with an insult, "You have come. That is wise, I wouldn't want to tear through my obviously mindless workforce just to get to you."

"What do you want, Perlman."

He spits, "You may address me as Lord or Sire you charlatan." Why he continues to call me a that after seeing my powers first hand is beyond me, "I have come for your head like I promised. You call my unjust? Then I shall prove my mettle and justify my actions under the watchful eyes of our Goddess."

The Diviner steps forward, standing between us. "You are not one of this village nor this Kingdom even, but the Mayor has permitted that your foolish challenge yesterday be taken seriously." He narrows his gaze at me and mutters, "We will make a spectacle of your death and placate the sheep you herd."

I look about me, utterly confused. Had they come to kill me outright? If so then I take it back, I'd like a few bodies to hide behind while I gauge whether I can actually fight back.

A hand lands on my shoulder and I look to my side, there I find Garland the Third standing beside me, glaring equally as fierce at the Diviner and Perlman, "It's a duel." He says, "Or at least a one-on-one battle between two mages."

"Perlman and I?"

He nods solemnly, "I don't suppose you know any battle magic?"

I did. In fact, I had many. Between killer Soul Drain and proficiency dependent Create Undead, there was a plethora of skills I'd yet to try. This was just the third day being here in this village, but my time in the world as a whole has been nothing if not eventful. Between trying to survive and living it up, I've had no time to practice and improve my apparently heretical magic.

Summon Spirit and Sense Death weren't enough to push my proficiency to the level I needed to actually protect myself with magic. Animate Animal? I can't be seen messing around with the livestock and there's the fact that I'd much rather eat it than render it inedible with necrotic energies.

I shook my head, "No, I don't." But I did have eight minutes of an unkillable spirit by my side, "But I've got an idea."

He nods, not bothering to ask. "Very well Perlman. What are your terms?"

Perlman's face twists into a wicked grin, thinking his victory assured no doubt. "I want both of your heads on a spike." He bursts out into a manic laughter, "That's not too much to ask is it? Surely not!"

Garlands lip thins. A grim demand no doubt, for me it's nothing other than another round at the darkness. Well, it wasn't darkness was it. It was another world, this one. I wonder, if I die again would I reincarnate into yet another world? Will I be forced to live on and on without rest or respite?

"We accept!" Garland lets out boldly, resolving himself for whatever comes. The crowd behind us gasps and murmurs. I'm not sure if he has a son to carry his name but I knew his death would be the end of any decency in the village.

"And your terms?" Perlman asks, bored.

Garland looks to me and I realize that I am to decide. I knew what I wanted from Perlman. I want his head, but his head likely wouldn't be enough to sate me, it definitely wouldn't be enough to protect Elsa and Sem as they would only send another magic attuned noble snub to replace him.

"How much do you have?"

That confuses many, even Perlman. "How much coin do you have in your coffers? Not the villages."

He grits his teeth and clenches his fists. "Enough." He mutters.

"Answer him, Perlman. It is law." Strangely it's the Diviner that intercedes. Principles, I guess.

Reluctantly he spits out, "About fifty gold."

Another round of gasps followed by hate filled curses. No doubt a lot of that was embezzled. "I'll have all of it as well as your head then. It's only fair, you won't be using it where you're going to."

Garland chuckles beside me, "Aye, that is true."

"Do you accept these terms, Perlman?" The Diviner asks.

"Yes." Perlman bites out. "I do."

"Then so be it. The Mage duel shall be held here at sunset. We shall gather your reward."

Fifty gold and the head of scum. Fifty gold. I'd never go hungry again, and neither would Elsa nor Sem.