Their destination was a deserted area about two days away from Azrael’s home village by horse… or it would have been if the child was a competent rider. As thing were, they had to let him rest every two hours, and book an inn mid-afternoon. It was within expectation for Ignis, but unacceptable for the horse loving king.

“What kind of child doesn’t know how to mount a horse? If it were my kingdom you wouldn’t even be fit to be a slave!”

“Cute him some slack old fossil, your kingdom is long gone and there are far more people than there are horses nowadays.”

“It’s no wonder the world is going to waste. It’s full of weakling who can neither fight nor ride.”

“The world is going to waste because it was full of horse-brained idiot like you who ruined it with all their fighting!”

“It wouldn’t have happened if they fought with blade like proper warriors. It’s your fancy magic that’s responsible.”

“So says the ghost, haunting the world to this day. I don’t know why, but I don’t think your argument convincing”

“Stop, please!” Pleaded Azrael. “I’ll make an effort, so please stop shouting.”

“You don’t have to, and you don’t need to. It’s pointless if you can’t walk afterward. We’ll go slowly until you get used to it.” Explained Ignis.

“You’re pampering him too much: it’s by going beyond your limits that you make real progress.” Countered the ghost.

“Who care, he’s not trying to become a horseman, but a mage. It’s good if he knows how to ride, but that’s not the bloody point!”

“And that’s why you’ll always be a brat! Kid, listen…” The voice stopped and the armor loudly fell to the ground.

“What did you do.” Asked the necromancer, pleased by the turn of event.

“I’ve forced him inside me, and I’m restraining him.” Groaned the child.

“You should do that more often.” Commented his teacher with a large smile.

“He’s… struggling to… get… out.” Whimpered the young mage breathless, his face red from the effort.

The armor reassembled itself slowly. “That was nasty kid. I take back what I said, you aren’t a wimp.”

Ignis understood the appeal of the ancient king ability to hunt and destroy other spirits – even if he didn’t approve of it – but he could only see him as a dangerous entity, and the fact Azrael couldn’t control it made it even more obvious. “Why did the cardinal see in you, old fossil? You’re just a killer from bygone times.”

A voice came from the almost complete armor, if you squinted your eyes, you could see a faint. “You can’t unite the world with pretty word, brat. Only the threat of greater violence can restrain violence.”

“Unless it escalades it.” There was plenty example of that happening, but he couldn’t remember a single one of peace achieved through pure oppression.

“I don’t want to discuss politic with an inexperienced brat who can barely control himself.”

“And I don’t want to hear advice from a ruler whose reign was succeeded by hundreds of years of war.”

“That was my successor’s fault, not mine.”

“Oh, and what was his name? Surely you must know.”

The ghost didn’t know, he hadn’t bothered appointing one, preferring the tried and proven method of a good bloodbath to select the strongest ruler. “You don’t know what it was like.” Pointed out the ghost, a feeble defense at best.

“What a coincidence, I happen you know nothing of what it’s like now.”

The armor had been complete for a while, and it climbed back on the horse keeping it ethereal mouth shut.

“Azrael, come here.” Called Ignis in a serious tone.

“What is it, master?” Answered the child politely.

“We’re going to work on your, on the fly warding and shielding.”

“I understand warding, but what is shielding?”

“Warding is for magical effect, while shielding is for physical ones. Honestly, as a pure death attribute you have very few options for the latter and almost all of them need a familiar. Thankfully, you have one, even if’s terribly obnoxious.”

“Please, don’t start again, master.” Pleaded the young apprentice.

“You’re right, sorry.” Said the young mage apologetically before continuing in a business-like tone. “The biggest drawback of the death attribute, is that you can only act on things that were alive at some point, and to varying degree. But with enough practice, a familiar allows you to act on the living and the unliving, like your ghost possessing an armor for example.”

“Eh? A normal familiar can do that? I thought it was something limited to him alone.”

“No, he’s a special one alright, a normal familiar would be unable to achieve this degree of precise movement and strength. At best you could use them create a pile of object or float a shield in front of you.” Before possessing the armor, Thracian had already been able to interact with physical object, but at great cost for itself. From what he had gathered, it had taken him thousands of hunts to get to the point where it could manifest himself. However, thanks to its contract with Azrael he was now able to do so on a grander scale and with his master shouldering the expenditure.

“Personally,” continued Ignis. “I use wind for shielding as it has a physical manifestation, but it’s possible to use necrotic power to move the world, much like what you did when you fought against Thracian. Just be sure to keep it as a last resort, because it caused a ton of problems down the line as you probably remember.”

“I won’t really need it, then?”

“Do not underestimate evil spirit, they don’t have much influence on the physical world, but they don’t need to. A small rot curse on an old wooden beam can be enough to drop a roof on you. Watch the environment and be prepared.”

Ignis took out a dead rabbit from its bag. He had bought at the market yesterday, but it looked almost fresh thank to his power killing the creature responsible for the decomposing it. “It is possible to manipulate a corpse to some degree but you have to control its every action by yourself, or automate them. Both methods however are far from being as responsive as with a familiar.”

“You said something about controlling the living?”

“We’ll see about that later. It is kind of like when Thracian is insides you, but he’d be the one in control.”

“Ewww.”

“Ewww, indeed. Now concentrate on the rabbit and will it to move. I won’t give you a spell to recite, it’s better you come up with your own.” And mostly because mine is ‘Become my flesh puppet, and dance to my tune, you rotten corpse.’ Courtesy of my master.

“Eh? You can make your own spells?” Up until now he had been handed down his spells, that was the normal method.

“That’s the normal method, but it gives slightly better result if you come up with your own, and it’s easier to remember.” Since he had inherited his from his master, he had in a way followed the ancient method, however he had a stronger connection with the spell than most student did because of the shame he had felt after discovering what they truly meant.

“What about, Dance to my tune, my flesh puppet. Become a shield for your master?” Volunteered the child.

Ignis looked at him agape for almost five second before asking. “Where did you hear that? Are you my master in disguise?”

“Eh? It was in the notebook you lent me.” Protested the confused apprentice.

“I just told you to come up with your own.”

“But I like the sound of this one, it sounds weird, guttural and all. Like a secret ancient language.”

Ignis was becoming red with embarrassment. ‘It’s just the words backward. It sounds impressive, but it’s just a damn joke!’ “Just do as you like, but don’t come complaining later.”