Necromancer

A Royal Road Fan Fiction

By: Halosty

Chapter 7

Mortimer got quite a bit more sleep that night than he had for the last few days. The reason was quite simply that he wasn’t playing Royal Road, so he didn’t have anything better to do. He dreamed of dying. However, always just before he actually died, the scene changed to another. He woke up in a sweat, frustrated. Unlike most people, however, he did not consider it a nightmare. He was instead disappointed that he didn’t actually experience the death. Not that he was suicidal, just very morbidly curious. He thought back to his death in Royal Road.

The sword had gone in near his heart. There had been a sharp, stabbing pain. However, because of the nature of Royal Road, the pain had been muted. After all, for the happiness and sanity of the players, only a certain threshold of pain was simulated. Not many people would play a game in which dying actually felt like dying. Still, it was somewhat of a disappointment to Mortimer that he would not be able to properly gauge how much dying would really hurt.

Mortimer’s day at school was fairly typical, but upon arrival home he saw his parents in the entryway. This was a bad sign, because that means there was going to be a talk about something, and Mortimer never enjoyed those. Still, it would be far worse if he ran away. “Yes, mother, father, you have something to talk about?”

His mother replied, “We have been concerned about your lack of physical activity since you no longer attend a physical education course at school. A true gentleman should be fit, and preferably participate in a sport.”

Mortimer didn’t bother to tell his parents that he didn’t want to be a gentleman. That would be a recipe for disaster, such as revoked privileges. Instead, he said, “Of course. I will certainly take up a worthy sport. Just give me some time to deliberate which would be the most fitting.”

At this, Mortimer received a nod from his parents. Approval, barely. He knew he would have to pick something in the near future, lest they pick for him. He couldn’t stand the thought of playing polo or something stupid like that, and football would have been murder to his small frame. After he was out of sight of his parents, Mortimer sighed. This would also take time away from his playing Royal Road.

Mortimer quickly did his homework. He couldn’t sign into Royal Road until twenty-four hours after his death, so he figured he’d do something to stave off disappointed parents. Then, he researched all the things that could be called sports for something that wouldn’t take much time, and would preferably involve little moving around. There were not many options, of course. Then, he stumbled upon an idea. He quickly did some research in that area, and came up with the workings of a plan that would not be unpleasant to him. If he could get it to work.

Then, it was time to log on to Royal Road. He would only have about half as much play time today as most days, since he was starting on the second half of his play time. Dying was kind of a pain. Well, at least he got his homework done, and that might help him stave off his inevitable future of failure. Not that he particularly cared about failing in a world full of boring people, but he did rather like not dying of starvation. Also, now, playing Royal Road, and Royal Road was definitely not free. Of course, as long as his parent’s didn’t disinherit him, he’d be fine, but he had no doubt that if he turned out to be a true failure, he’d be sitting on a corner begging soon enough. With those thought of finances, he logged in.

Quietus quickly noticed that he was lying on his back, staring at a vaguely familiar ceiling. He couldn’t imagine why the ceiling of the church would be at all familiar. He had never gone in there, and since churches were where players generally respawned, that is where he expected to be. It was also a very uncomfortable place to wake up. Perhaps they didn’t think to put down pillows under the poor dead players. Or rather “foreigners”, if he wanted to use game terms. Blessed by some kind of god to come back to life instead of staying dead like any respectable NPC.

Someone nearby cleared their throat and said, “Good mornin’.” The fact that this particular voice was familiar finally made Quietus realize where he was. It was not, in fact, in the church. It was hard because there was no point in giving comfort to the dead. This was, of course, a slab in the morgue. Thus, Jack was the one who had given greetings.

Why am I in the morgue? Quietus thought. Then he said, “Why am I in the morgue?”

Asking the question seemed the most expedient way to solve the dilemma, much more sensible than pondering it out himself.

“Well, it’s much more convenient to have certain people stay here, ya see. Pretty much everyone passes through here, and we figured there’s no reason to cart you off to a strange building when you can wake up to a lovely smile on a friendly face.” At this, Jack grinned, exposing about half as many rotten teeth as a normal man would have normal teeth.

“Well, thanks,” Quietus answered sincerely, “I do know my way around town from here better anyway. Still, don’t people usually have to be around the holy power of the church to come back to life?”

“Oh, well yes. Usually. Still, I’ve picked up a few tricks in my time. Enough to get a man back on his feet after he falls down. Works better on some than on others.”

Quietus thought about it for a little bit. “That’s pretty neat, sounds like some useful magic. I don’t suppose you could teach me a bit sometime?”

Jack laughed, as pleasantly as someone like him could. “Ha! Perhaps that will be so, but it’s mostly tricks, hardly anything useful.”

Quietus got up and left the morgue, one level and about half of the money he had acquired short compared to how he was before he had died. The level he had worked for was disappointing, but the money was the biggest loss at this point because he had just enough before dying to buy a much nicer dagger than the one he had. Now, he was reduced to only getting a quite a bit nicer dagger. He never even really considered buying anything else with the money. He had grown fond of daggers even in his short acquaintance with them.

Quietus wasn’t sure if the assassin’s guild (specifically the back rooms) was open during the daytime. His previous experience made him feel it wouldn’t be. Thus, he was surprised when the door opened after his knock. He saw the same guard as before, who half smiled at him. Well, perhaps a quarter smile. Something like a twitch of the side of his mouth. Still, he didn’t look angry or about-to-kill-an-intrudery, and that was good enough.

Quietus went in to see Frank, who actually, legitimately smiled. “I’ve heard tales of your great success as well as the catastrophic blunders that were involved with such. However, you succeeded at the task, and that is all that was required. Besides, sometimes luck is the best skill one can have. Congratulations on a job... well, done.”

*Ting*

You completed the quest.

*Ding*

You have gained a level!

Quietus got back his level. He quickly distributed the points back into Luck and Agility, where he figured they belonged. He also received money, which brought back into his future the much better dagger. Quietus quite enjoyed this profession already.

“We don’t have any more work right now for someone of your rank. You can check back later, perhaps after you get a bit of practice. It never hurts to have more. You’ll also want to speak to our guild trainer about alternate uses of stealth, which you may find useful based on... recent events.”

Quietus, not being one to ignore sound advice, went and found the guild trainer. There, he learned something important. How to not get stabbed by guards. Well, how to avoid making them want to stab him. More specifically, how to disguise himself.

“It works like this, see. If you don’t get too close, or you have a brilliant disguise, guard’s won’t recognize you, and you won’t be attacked for being a murderer. This will allow you to walk along the streets normally, just don’t try getting through the gates if you get marked again. They’ll see right through you.”

Quietus nodded. This made a lot of sense. He also learned that it worked on players as well, not showing you as a murderer and displaying your name- so long as you stayed a distance away from people, or quite a bit further from those with keen observation skills.

Armed with this knowledge, Quietus set out to find himself another adventure, although this one probably wouldn’t involve killing someone, not just yet.

End Chapter 7

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