The Necromancer's Servant

Asa rubbed his neck and woke up, discovering that he was lying on a pile of straw that smelled moldy. A mouse quickly jumped over his feet and scurried into a crack in the wall.

Looking up, he could see three walls made of large blocks of bluish stone, with only two ventilation holes slightly larger than a fist letting in some dim light. The other side was barred with wooden bars, and beyond them were more wooden barriers; this was a cold and dark dungeon.

Just moments ago, he had been in the splendid ducal mansion, and now he found himself lying in a dungeon cell. The stark contrast left Asa's still-dizzy mind confused. He shook his head and tried to recall what had happened, but it only made him more bewildered.

Could it be that the knight suspected something between him and his fiancée? Or did he think Asa had realized he was responsible for her injuries? Asa carefully filtered through his report in his mind and found no flaws. He had already dealt with the story about the swamp on his way to the capital. Was it the knight's own impulsiveness? Then he would have to speak directly to the duke.

Suddenly, Asa heard strange sounds from a nearby cell. It was the moans of a man and a woman.

Before he could react, the door to the dungeon was kicked open with a bang. A skinny jailer rushed in, heading straight for the cell where the moans were coming from, kicking at the wooden bars while shouting, "Get out here!"

After some effort, the moans ceased, and a chubby jailer slowly emerged, adjusting his trousers.

The skinny jailer yelled, "What's going on? Didn't we agree I'd come first?"

The chubby jailer, still savoring something, lazily replied, "Who told you to come so late? You missed the shift, and I was waiting impatiently."

The skinny jailer shouted, "To hell with you! I've never seen you wait so eagerly during off hours. I'm late by a few minutes, and you want to complain. Now that you're here, you enjoy yourself while I'm stuck helping you!"

The chubby jailer remained unfazed, saying, "Let it go. Since it's already done, there's no point in discussing it. You can do whatever you want… unless you want to wait until she's released before you go…"

The skinny jailer became even more furious, "To hell with you…"

Asa moved closer to the wooden bars and said to the two jailers, "I want to see Duke Murak…" while considering how to explain the situation to the duke.

"See your mother's XX!" The skinny jailer suddenly turned around and kicked Asa squarely in the chest without warning.

The sound of breaking bones echoed clearly in the quiet dungeon. Several of Asa's already fragile ribs were broken by the kick, causing him to feel a dull pain in his chest. He stumbled back and hit his head on a protruding stone under the straw, and everything went dark as he lost consciousness.

The two jailers heard the sharp sound and saw Asa fall to the ground, motionless. The chubby jailer hurried to open the bars and leaned in to check on Asa, feeling for his breath. He shouted, "Not good, he's gone!" He touched Asa's chest. "Several ribs are broken. It seems his heartbeat has stopped."

The skinny jailer, stunned by the power of the kick, tried to remain calm and shouted, "What's the big deal about killing a prisoner? I told you my skills were top-notch! I was famous for it when I was in the army. You can ask around…"

The chubby jailer looked terrified at the skinny one, his voice shaking, "This prisoner was just sent over from the duke's mansion. They said he must be closely guarded; he was caught by Baron Claudius himself, and he might come to interrogate him."

The skinny jailer was still basking in the glory of his kick but began to feel uneasy. After all, recently there had been serious issues with heretics and spies. Killing a spy could raise suspicions, and Baron Claudius was notoriously strict. The skinny jailer lowered his voice, "Let me think this through…"

Not long after, as the two jailers were preparing themselves, Knight Claudius arrived.

"He escaped?" The knight's face was paler than the bluish stone walls.

The two jailers covered their necks, and the skinny one spoke in a voice that sounded like it was on the brink of death, "He said he was seriously injured and asked us to find a doctor. This is an important prisoner you captured, and we were worried he might really die, so we went in to check, and suddenly he knocked us out and ran away." To prove his loyalty, he pointed at the other cells, saying, "Ask the other prisoners; they all saw it!"

The whole dungeon erupted with half-hearted affirmations.

Claudius's eyes flashed with a murderous glint, as if he could kill with a glance, and he glared at the two jailers, saying, "Don't move! Wait for me to return." He turned and sprinted out of the dungeon.

It was a while before the skinny jailer could catch his breath. In a contemptuous tone, he complained, "What a show-off! Just because he was born into a good family, if I had been born into the Ernie family, I'd be a general at his age." He looked at the chubby jailer, who was still trembling in fear from the knight's earlier glare, and felt his own bravado revive. He slapped the chubby jailer on the shoulder and said, "What do you think? You said you would handle the body yourself; that's time-consuming and easy to discover. We should just hand it over to old Sandru. He'll solve our problem much faster. If you did it, we wouldn't have made it in time just now."

The chubby jailer was still shaking, barely able to speak, "His eyes are so scary…"

The skinny jailer, spitting as he spoke, said, "I told you, these rich kids like to show off. They're just relying on their family's power; their aura can be intimidating. If it were a commoner, I could just kick him to death…"

The chubby jailer nodded in agreement, still in a daze.

Whether they were speaking passionately or listening intently, the two stood there, motionless.

Before long, and before either of their legs had begun to ache, Claudius returned after arranging the capital's guard for a search.

"Did the prisoner talk to anyone here?"

"Seems not…" The skinny jailer dared not meet Claudius's gaze and instead looked at the wall behind him. The chubby jailer was staring at the ground, trembling.

"Seems not?" Claudius's voice was half inquiring and half to himself. The two jailers didn't dare answer.

"Hmm." Claudius seemed to realize something, his mind made up, and he slowly nodded.

"No one is without faults. Even if a mistake is made, it's best to try to make amends; regretting and blaming is of no use. Don't you agree?" The two jailers noticed that the knight's expression wasn't as terrifying anymore; he no longer looked as pale as the stone walls, and even a hint of warmth appeared in his eyes as he spoke to them, as if forgiving and comforting them. They felt relieved, and the skinny jailer quickly replied, "Yes, yes, we will try our best to make amends."

"Good, good, that's the right attitude." Claudius placed his hands on the shoulders of the two jailers, which completely caught them off guard. The chubby jailer no longer felt afraid; he thought this handsome and approachable young noble was more worthy of reverence than a statue in a church. The skinny jailer also inwardly admitted that this rich kid was indeed a bit above him.

'Bang!' A muffled sound echoed in the air of the dungeon.

The two bodies, one fat and one thin, fell together as if they were very good friends, their blood and brains mixing together, indistinguishable from one another. A few prisoners nearby who had a clear view of the scene gasped in shock.

Knight Claudius frowned sternly, and in a slow and steady tone, like a parent scolding a child, he admonished the rising cries, "What's all the noise? They were just taking responsibility for their actions. You share in the responsibility too."

Back at the duke's mansion, Duke Murak learned that the prisoner had escaped but did not show much of a reaction. He calmly ordered that the prisoner's belongings be brought to him.

Watching the duke's tranquil expression, Claudius felt a deep admiration. The duke was a man who never let anyone know what he was thinking, yet his narrowed eyes, hinting at a smile, seemed capable of seeing through the deepest secrets of any person. This was something Claudius aspired to learn.

Holding a knife and examining it carefully, the duke squinted even more. He traced the edge of the blade with his fingers, pondering for a while before suddenly asking Claudius, "What do you think of this knife?"

Claudius examined it closely and replied, "It's not a soldier's weapon made in an official factory; it was forged by a common blacksmith." He took a closer look. "But it's a very good blacksmith."

"That's right, a very skilled blacksmith made this. The angle of the blade, the length, and the variations in thickness are all perfectly crafted. Can you tell the relationship between this blacksmith and the person using this sword?" the Duke asked.

Claudius examined it closely but couldn't determine anything, so he answered, "I can't tell."

"This sword is very practical, with every useful feature crafted precisely, but there's not a single decorative element, not even the slightest embellishment. That means this sword wasn't made as merchandise, or even as a gift between friends. It seems like it was made for personal use," the Duke mused. "How old do you think that soldier is?"

"About twenty," Claudius replied.

"If this sword was made by him, he would have had to start practicing blacksmithing in the womb. This sword was likely made by an elder, maybe his father," the Duke deduced, leaving Claudius in awe. "The iron used is top-quality ore. How could a temporary mercenary from an ordinary blacksmith family have access to such fine material? Unless..."

"Unless his family lives near a mine that produces such ore," Claudius finished the thought. "I will send people to investigate in Kalendor immediately."

"No need. It's only been an hour; he's likely still in the city. Search thoroughly," the Duke said, putting the sword down. "Where is the chair the soldier sat in, or the cup he used?"

"Um... I ordered them to be thrown away," Claudius answered hesitantly.

"Thrown away?" The Duke's eyes showed a rare expression of surprise. "Why?"

"I thought it was a disgrace to have things touched by someone like that left in the mansion," Claudius explained.

The Duke stared at Claudius for a long moment. Though the Duke didn't appear angry or accusatory, Claudius still felt a chill down his spine.

"You're still too young," the Duke said with a hint of resignation. He then issued an order, "Tell the commanders of the Royal Guard: this spy is extremely dangerous. If found, execute him on the spot. No one is to speak with him."

"Yes, sir." Claudius bowed and left. He had full confidence in the Royal Guard's efficiency. The soldier was probably already dead by now.

"Why is he still alive?"

Asa awoke, hearing this complaint as the first thing. It was the kind of tone you'd hear in a marketplace when an old woman bought something unsatisfactory or when she got cheated with subpar vegetables or meat.