The overnight rain left the path to the manor glittering in the early morning sun. The water pooled in the cracks of the dark slate bricks seemed to glow a warm yellow, as if they had been mortared with gold dust. It matched the opulence of the grand, cast iron gate that marked the entrance to the Baron’s manor estate. A tall stone wall had been erected across the front of the property, preventing any access except through the imposing gate. The gate itself had been spared no expense, with the dark black metal bent into a mirrored, geometric pattern that included alternating sizes of diamond shapes. A long path lined by soft white flowers and meticulously trimmed shrubs could be seen just beyond the bars as they led up to a stately manor house with four floors. The stone home was by far the biggest dwelling in the village and perhaps in a pinch the whole population of the village could have fit into the house at once.

  The irony of standing before such a home of excessive wealth after staring directly at abject poverty was not lost on Rhea as she waited outside the gate. Her eyes gazed over the pale yellow home with an unimpressed eye. Sure, it impressed her on some level, but she also couldn’t help but see all the wasted space. Even if the Baron kept a full suite of servants and guards, there certainly had to be rooms he simply forgot existed or hadn’t stepped into in years. It was far too much property for just one person.

  Even her own underground crypt felt excessive most times, though the room would be necessary for those wishing their bodies to remain intact after preservation. It perhaps would have been cost and effort saving to simply stack the bodies, but that struck Rhea as disrespectful and inside she ensured that every person laid to rest in the crypt had their own designated space. Besides, there were clauses in a few of the contracts that allowed the families to visit the remains if they so wished and she couldn’t fathom having to shuffle through bodies to find the correct one for viewing. Not that she had ever had, nor anticipated having anyone take up the offer of that particular clause. Most people found the idea of willfully entering a necromancer’s crypt quite unappealing.

  “Morning.”

  Oliver had arrived while she stood gazing at the estate. Rhea turned and inclined her head.

  “Morning,” she replied.

  Oliver was dressed in his finest tailored shirt, a silk button up in a dark navy with gold arcane symbols embroidered along the collar and again at the hem of the sleeves. Paired with a smart pair of grey wool trousers, it was a far cry much more opulent than he tended to dress. Rhea had not considered the idea of dressing differently to meet the Baron. Perhaps if she had given it some thought she might have picked something other than a taupe blouse and long forest green skirt, but the Baron also already had a preconceived notion of her, so no amount of fancy dress could undo the knowledge she dappled in the magic of the dead. In fact, Rhea had found it better to dress down, dressing richly as a known necromancer tended to have people assume you must be doing dark things with the power to be rich.

  “You look quite fresh despite last night,” he said with a jovial smile.

  “I got just as much sleep as you most likely and you seemed to have found time to press out your finest clothes.”

  Oliver looked down at his outfit as if just realizing that it was obvious he was dressed out of character.

  “I just thought perhaps it was best to put the most glamorous foot forward, in case it had any bearing,” he chuckled. “I did think you might have been up late dealing with the recently departed.”

  Rhea shook her head. “I will start the process after our meeting. There is no rush, the dead will rarely become more dead and sometimes it is best to wait a little while. Doctors are sometimes a bit… inconsistent with their ability to accurately judge the moment of death.”

  A look of horror flash across Oliver’s features. “You have been given people still alive?”

  “Not often, but early on I allowed for the departed to be delivered to me and there were two separate occasions where when I began to inspect and prepare the body I realized there was still very shallow breathing,” she recalled. “They did not last much longer, both passed before I could get word to their loved ones to have them rush for more time with them, but still it was stolen time that could have been avoided. That is why I do not accept bodies to be brought to me anymore, I insist on going and getting them myself. More work for me, but I am a touch more thorough.”

  “That seems very unprofessional of those doctors to have made such a mistake.” His eyebrows furrowed together, though the left was pulled tightly by the scar and could barely move to make the expression of judgement. “I would think that must be a very critical part of practicing the medical arts.”

  A deep, knowing sigh escaped between Rhea’s lips before she could consider stopping it. There was a veil of mystique over doctors and what they did. People sometimes almost deified them with their ability to heal and save, though in Rhea’s experience many did little to warrant the praise.

  Before Rhea could be drawn into a deep conversation about the medical field and magical healing, the crunch of Cedric’s boots on the rocky road before the stone walkway alerted that he had arrived. He had chosen to dress in an outfit that showed his spiritual devotion with a crisp white shirt and pale grey linen trousers. The outfit intended to express a rejection of worldly things, though it was difficult for the pair already waiting to guess if it was an unintentional jab at the Baron and his ostentatious lifestyle or simply a symptom of his new fervent belief that his angel has prophesied this meeting.

  Upon reaching his friends, Cedric lowered his head in greeting, then set his eyes on the gate before them. “Quite a manor house”

  “The richest man in this village and quite likely a good distance around,” Oliver affirmed.

  “Stands a chance of being good pay,” Cedric said with a slight smile on his lips. “Perhaps I am being rewarded finally for my devotion.”

  Rhea turned away from her friends and set her gaze back at the manor, mostly to hide her exasperation with Cedric. He could be a very normal and pleasant person, but he sometimes went through these periods where he seemed to lose all sense of self outside of his self-imposed religion. In fact, he had gone nearly a year or more between such bouts, whenever the angel became quiet and uncommunicative. Cedric did not lose faith in this time, but with no contact and guidance he simply slipped away from the fervor and into a more normal life. Rhea had many yet unspoken theories about the angel and the god and their strange hold over Cedric’s mind, but they had gone unspoken as they had not done anything outwardly detrimental to him yet, just made him sometimes insufferable.

  “Well I’ll take any reason for a good bit of coin,” Oliver agreed while clapping Cedric lightly on the back. “Spell reagents are not cheap.”

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Rhea did not add to the conversation and instead reached forward to the string that hung just inside the gate on the right side at head height. Pulling it released a loud and clear sound of a bell, summoning someone to come open the gate. After a few seconds the door to the manor opened in the distance and a man emerged, making a direct line for the gate. It was the same man front he night prior in a less richly designed outfit, though still appropriate for receiving summoned guests.

  “The Baron is happy you have arrived promptly,” the man said cheerily as he clunked open the mechanism that held the gate firmly shut from the inside. “Breakfast is nearly prepared, but coffee and tea are already set out and waiting for you in the parlor.”

  The gate heaved a heavy groan as the right side swung open, and the servant swept his arm wide in a gesture of welcoming to the group. He walked them up to the front of the manor, sweeping open the heavy oak door and ushering them inside.

  The decor of the manor was filled with rich hardwood and pricy textiles. Tapestries of various nature scenes adorned the walls of the hallways they passed along with ornately carved small tables holding vases filled with freshly cut flowers. The smell of freshly baked bread filled the air, pointing towards the kitchen being somewhere nearby.

  Inside the parlor the bulbous Baron was already waiting, wrapped in a luxurious robe with a pipe in this mouth. He did not rise from his overstuffed chair beside the fireplace, but he gave a deep nod of greeting while the servant led the trio to a couch opposite the Baron. Two ceramic pots, one of tea and one of coffee waited on the low table in front of the couch with all the accompaniments that one might want mixed into their drink. Oliver and Rhea were both quick to help themselves, both selecting coffee with cream and sugar. Cedric hesitated, but eventually poured his own cup of tea only allowing a small drop of cream into his cup. Sugar was a very expensive commodity and seen by many to be a lavish frivolity, which was why Cedric had labeled it as a potential gluttony in his mind, but exactly why Oliver and Rhea loaded up their cups with two heaping spoonfuls each.

  “Thank you for coming on such short notice,” the Baron finally spoke with a deep, almost booming voice. “The food should arrive shortly and help yourself to as much as you want. Consider it the least I can do for what you might agree to do for me.”

  “And what is that, exactly?” Rhea questioned after taking a deep, satisfying sip of her coffee.

  The Baron gave a half-smile but waved his hand as if to wave away the question. “It is not so urgent that it can’t wait until after we eat. It is much better to make deals on a full stomach, more likely all of us can think clearly.”

  A side door to the parlor opened, letting in intense smells of cooking food, several servants emerged from the door carrying platters of various baked breads, pastries, and a selection of fine meats and cheeses along with several eggs propped up in ceramic egg cups. It was not the most luxurious breakfast that the Baron could afford, but it was a step or two above what would typically be provided to run of the mill commoners.

  The trio ate richly, even Cedric seemingly putting aside his fear of gluttony temporarily in the face of so much abundance. The Baron himself only took a couple of pastries and nibbled at them, a strange choice given the breadth of his stocky frame. He was a big man, one obviously used to eating in luxury. His short, cropped greying hair gave a sort of an appearance of sugar dusted over an overfilled cream puff. Rhea had picked up on his reluctance to fully engage himself in the meal and her eyes wandered down to his feet and a knowing look passed over her features. His right toe was not in a fluffy slipper and instead was wrapped in many layers of bandages. It did not take her background in medicine to surmise the Baron was currently suffering from a painful flare up of gout.

  “Now,” the Baron said once everyone had their fill, “on to business.” He grunted as he leaned forward and placed his own coffee cup on the table before him. “I have a bit of a situation, one that requires a bit of delicacy in the details and a willingness to speak nothing of your mission to anyone outside of this room.”

  None of the friends voiced any objections, so the Baron continued.

  “I have it on good authority that a close advisor to the King has been tainted by evil intentions.” He leaned forward again in his chair, wincing slightly at the pain in his foot before quickly returning to a serious, stoic expression. “This advisor has been working towards putting into place evil, perhaps even deadly plans for our King. I cannot simply present my evidence so plainly, it will give time for the advisor to cover up his plans or flee, hence I must ask a third, unaffiliated party to help stop the plot.”

  “A deadly plot on the King?” Rhea questioned with uncertainty. “Surely this is a matter for the Royal Guard, they will take any threat seriously.”

  The Baron let out a long sigh and nodded his head. “Normally yes, but I believe the head of the guard is also involved so I cannot go to them so swiftly. I am not sure, so that will be part of your job, to uncover if there is a connection and if not, then provide my evidence and the evidence you will gather and present it to the Royal Guard.”

  “And what if they are involved?” Oliver interjected.

  “Then I would hope that you would do what is necessary to ensure the advisor is no longer a threat to our dear king.”

  Silence hung in the air at the unspoken request that they perhaps kill a royal advisor. It sounded like madness, a good way to swiftly lose their heads. Anticipating their reluctance, the Baron motioned to a set of papers on the end table next to the couch.

  “Take a look through those documents there, I think it will be plain to see there is something nefarious happening.”

  Oliver was sitting next to the papers, he picked them up and began to flip through the documents, a frown of concentration on his face. He took several minutes scanning them, stopping to read several before passing them on to Rhea. Rhea’s eyebrows shot up as her eyes read over the letter Oliver had left on top which appeared to be a letter to an unnamed conspirator to the advisor asking through veiled language about the acquisition of herbs that she knew all too well were quick to kill and hard to prove. She looked to Oliver to ascertain what he thought and he gave her a slight nod to signal that he thought the Baron was perhaps correct in his concerns. Rhea went to pass the documents to Cedric, but he waved his hands, uninterested in seeing the proof.

  Oliver was the first once to speak, his voice low. “This is quite the precarious and quite frankly, dangerous request.”

  “It is,” the Baron admitted, “but you will be rewarded handsomely for your efforts. I will even pay you a bit upfront to help fund your travel and any money Miss Mortis may lose for her business while she has to be away.”

  Rhea was surprised to hear the Baron speak so plainly of her business. She had fully expected him to at least act the part of being disgusted by her work, but he seemed unbothered by her being an active necromancer in his village.

  “I would ask that you make your decision now, as I will need to swiftly find others to do this for me, the King’s life may be at stake afterall.”

  The trio looked between each other, though Cedric’s mind had been made up before they even entered the manor. He was very sure that this was all divine intervention and what they were meant to do. Oliver and Rhea still had lingering doubts, but they also saw in black and white before them that something was afoot and perhaps the kingdom was in danger. Besides, the riches that might be bestowed upon them for saving the King could be unfathomably large. Neither Rhea nor Oliver was in a position to so easily pass those such an opportunity up.

  With a silent agreement, Rhea cleared her throat. “We’ll do it, as long as we have free reign to double check and make sure we have the correct story.”

  The Baron extended his arms and replied, “Of course, but I think you will likely quickly uncover the truth. I will send a courier before nightfall with the documents I have along with an upfront payment. Again I must implore you to speak none of this. I am sure you can understand this very delicate matter.”

  Delicate was putting it very lightly, it was not an everyday occurrence to have the life of the King placed directly into your hands. Very strangely for Rhea, directly into the hands of a known necromancer.