Hungry Necromancer

Chapter 13: Thief (P2)

There are many suspects for the petty crime, petty in a general sense but really never when it happens to you. This was a grievous crime, and upon Anselm's accusing point I would harbour no remorse or mercy as I executed my assailant with a touch of necromantic energy. I was just itching for a chance to drain the life out of the fool who'd robbed me.

However, it would seem that casting Soul Drain was not going to make it on my to do list today. My robber was simply just

"A kid?"

Anselm nods solemnly. He sat on the patch of grass next to a relatively clean river. Relatively clean because not twenty paces away a mother was bathing her child in it. The river washed away all dirt and gunk in the direction of Arak, but still I am not enthused about drinking from it still.

"Are you sure it was a kid?" I ask again. I had every idea how to carry out retribution on an adult but a kid?

"Yeah. I'm positive. He had this malnourished, about to be on the street's kind of look. You were unconscious for quite a bit so I thought I'd do some reconnaissance."

"And what did you find?"

"I found his home. His mother didn't look too happy about him 'stumbling on coin no one was using' but she was starved enough not to ask questions."

Great. My hard-earned money was being used to take care of some family.

"What do you want to do?" he asks, his feet floating gently off the ground.

"I'm going to get my money back." I growl. He gives me a disapproving look, like he expected me to say something different. "What would you have me do? Starve?"

"Of course not. But you haven't seen this family. They've been on the ropes for a very long time, ever since the kid's father died. They deserve a break."

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"What did you stay for tea and cookies as well?" he gave me a confused look but I don't mind that, "They have a roof over their heads don't they? Neighbours that don't want to kill them and from the sounds of it they've got a ghost that's got their best interest in mind as well."

"Take me to them, I need a break."

I don't know where Anselm's sudden charitable attitude came from, he was the one who suggested I rob an entire village, basically pillage it and keep all the riches for myself and to an extent that's what I did and I got away with my life by the skin of my teeth.

But all of a sudden, he wants me to give up the paltry finds I got away with? To a family that likely wouldn't regard me as a fellow human because I looked like a beggar?

I scoff. Coin that no one was using. What a brilliant way to condemn me to death and save your sorry ass. No, I wasn't going to have it.

This world has put me through too much for my big break to be snatched away like that. If I were a bit stronger, I would cast this village under my control, I would feast and drink on wine and clean fucking water like any civilized person was supposed to.

Now more than ever, looking at the grinning merchants and store clerks making their fair bit of coin with whatever they had inspired me.

My talents are in my magic, if this world gave you your piece based on whatever you were good at then I intend to take the biggest piece. Magic was worth it after all.

"You have a funny look on." Anselm complains.

I snort. "Anselm, I am going to be rich."

He looks at me with doubt. I suppose anyone would hearing such absurd proclamations from a man in rags. But I meant it. Suffering would be my friend no more.

***

It took a while. Twisting and turning through the alleyways that were bursting with business, but eventually, Anselm led me to a house. If you could call it that.

It was unlike any of the others in the village proper, it looked more like a hut than a house, with rickety walls and set upon damp soil, looking ready to collapse at any moment, in the slightest of breeze.

I supposed he wasn't lying about them needing a break. Still, I don't falter and I march on to the door.

Pounding out three knocks, not too heavy as I didn't trust the door not to fall apart. "Hello! Anyone home?"

I hear a bit of shuffling on the other side, like someone was peeking through a hole at me. I tilt my head slightly and look straight into it, meeting shaking blue orbs that pull back the moment they see my face.

Next, I hear running. Fucking hell. "Anselm cut him off!"

Anselm sighs, still not excited about being part of this but still he flies off and phases into the house while I push the door open- it was surprisingly not all that fragile. I'd call it sturdy if it weren't for the two shoves I heave at it that end up pushing it down.

The house bore nothing. There was a fur mat under my feet and ahead was a square table with three chairs, to the side was a pile of coal and wood surrounded by a large pot and three wooden bowls. It's humble.

I hear a squeal and follow the sound into the only other room. This one had enough space for two people to walk around comfortably in, although there wasn't a lot to walk around.

There's two other mats and a cupboard that had clothes spilling out of it. In the centre of the room was Anselm, he held the little scamp that stole my coin. The boy struggles, demanding to be let go else there would be hell to pay.

"Hello." I call out, announcing my presence to the child. His head snaps towards me and his eyes tell me all I need to know; he wasn't expecting me. "Surprised to see me, are you?"

"I... I was hungry. I still am, please mister." He begs. The child fit the description Anselm had given. About to be on the streets. He wore the look already, his shirt used to have sleeves, that much I could tell by the jagged tears at the seams and his puffy trousers used to have wool fillings for warmth in them, only now they were torn out and the hair on his head matched the dirt colour of his shirt so perfectly it might have been planned.

"Did you stop to consider that I was hungry as well? Did the thought cross your mind while you were robbing an unconscious man of his only riches?"

"It did! I swear it did I jus-"

"What is happening here? Who are you people!"

I turn and my eyes meet the blue of a woman, her braided hair was tied up in a knot and she wore a black dress and had an apron over it, giving her that look of a maid.

Not the maid of a royal or someone truly important enough to afford uniforms, just a maid. The type that didn't care for courtesy's and bows, the type that would lick the floor if it meant living a bit. A maid.

I can see why Anselm thought they needed a break. Still, no turning back now.

"Are you this thief's mother?"

Her eyes widen and her lips begin to tremble. She sets down a basket of fruit, one I somehow skipped noticing and while on the floor she flattens herself, prostrating before me. A beggar by all accounts.

"Please, forgive my son his transgressions against you kind si-"

"Do not impose kindness upon me. Your son robbed me blind while I slept, unconscious and injured from battle." Was battle a stretch? Perhaps. "He did not show me kindness."

"Take me then. I shall bear the brunt of whatever punishment you deem fit sir. Just spare my son."

I sigh, in my hands I cradle a ball of green mana; Anselm was running out. But they didn't know that.

The woman noticing the light even as her head was bowed looks up and gasps. Now tears seem to well up in her eyes. "Great mage please spare us." She prays, scrambling on her knees to hold onto my trousers, the first of the tears had fallen. "Spare my foolish son!"

"Relax. This isn't for you. It is for him." Anselm's time runs out and he dissipates, the boy in his grip looking surprised to no end that the man holding him would disappear. I release the spell, it hurtles through and stabs Anselm in the chest, filling him once more.

I turn to the crying woman and pick her up. She stands, although unwilling at first. Her boy jumps into her arms muttering apologies.

"What is your name?"

"I am Elsa and this is my son, Sem, Great Mage."

"Well then Elsa, I simply want what was taken from me, my coin. No harm will come to you if you simply give me what is mine."

Her breath hitches and her eyes fall to the ground. I follow her look and land on something so innocent. A basket of fruit.

Anselm's hand falls on my shoulder and he whispers lightly in my ear. "What are you going to do now, Asher?"

Good question.