Having explained what little she understood of the situation to King, Iris spent a while gazing at the lively city inside the walls. In comparison, Mournvalley entirely lacked anything one could call cities. Keeps and castles usually had a small town some distance away from them, but the overall terrible quality of soil and low population kept the necromancers spread out to maximize what little they could grow out of their cursed land. Being landlocked and without any major bodies of water, there were no ports to attract people either, the few lakes and rivers supported no life worthy of fishing, and didn’t work as paths to large inland cities of other nations either. In many ways, the inquisition thought Valor to be in a similar situation, having next to no land, instead of unusable and barren soil, no major water routes, and a population to somehow feed. The difference was that The Guild had commodified the prospects of adventuring and a fresh start to build vast capital, favor of large nations across the continent, and renown – while the old rulers of Mournvalley had built a monopoly of pointless hostility and total exclusion from the world, with a stark difference in outcomes for entirely predictable reasons. It irked Iris to no end to see the world and the infinite ways necromancers could be a part of it, if they didn’t have centuries of ruined reputation behind them. While most necromancers were virtually indistinguishable from an average person – aside from maybe being able to operate a quill without using their hands, the few with substantial talent could easily provide safety and aid to settlements, much like the town healer or a cleric. The military applications of someone who could bring back fallen soldiers were beyond apparent, but also something the inquisition had deemed too dangerous to offer to anyone besides their closest allies, and even then, with an extremely short leash. Because of the similarities between Valor and Mournvalley, as well as Adventurers and Necromancers, great inspiration had been drawn from the city of adventurers in the attempts to revitalize the new Mournvalley.

While looking down at the market square and absentmindedly thinking about her duties, Iris happened to spot the fairly noticeable pair of simulacra making their way towards the gate: Leggy and the speaking spider simulacrum she had met briefly. They noticed the necromancer as well and beckoned for her to come down from the wall.

“Want to come see what they’re up to with me?” The inquisitor asked from King, who had been intensely staring at the spotless field of snow on the other side of the wall.

Receiving a nod from the knight, the two headed down – this time using a staircase according to the wishes of the guards, and met up with the other two simulacra.

“Heading out?” Iris asked as the spider started to inspect her wings by poking them.

“The venator holds the title of housecarl in the court of the second artificial children nearby. A charge placed on her by the queen of the tribe – a supposedly powerful individual, perhaps of aid in this matter of false memories.” The spider simulacrum explained. “The One of Amora would like the wrong necromancer to join us.”

“The wrong necromancer…” Iris muttered under her breath before realizing something and turning to King. “Aren’t you just straight up the king of those little guys? I didn’t know you had a queen.”

The knight stared blankly at the necromancer as the enchanted gears audibly whirred within him. As if suddenly realizing something, he clapped together his hands and pointed at the frozen field through the gate.

“I’m not in a relationship, but here’s a tip: maybe don’t forget that you have a wife. Seems like something that would come back at you in a major way.” Iris sighed.

“Excellent! We must embark at once!” The spider simulacrum declared without actually requesting the two to join them and started heading towards the gate.

Unsurprisingly, despite the questionable statuses almost all of them held within the city, the guards at the gate were perfectly happy to not ask any questions about why three simulacra and a necromancer were heading out without any supplies. Almost as soon as they were through the gates, King insisted on getting off the road to head towards the goblin settlement via a direct route through the field of over knee-high snow instead of taking the road that had been somewhat cleared by the occasional sleigh or a passing fire mage with too much energy. The other two simulacra had no issues with the decision and began to effortlessly make their way through the snow. Iris, on the other hand, took one step into the snowbank, felt the snow get into her shoe and decided against it.

“I think I’ll just follow the road; you guys go on ahead.” She informed the simulacra and pointed down the road.

The three simulacra stopped to look at each other, as if to decided on something, before the spider skittered its way back to the road. “The wrong necromancer may ride upon this one’s form.” It cheerily offered and lowered its body onto the snow.

Still a bit queasy about the ancient machines, Iris considered declining the offer, but then she realized that she had just given herself a deadline and time was of the essence. “If you say so…” She muttered and carefully stepped onto the simulacra to sit on its abdomen, as if she somehow could have accidentally damaged it.

As a ride, the simulacrum was actually surprisingly smooth, and the added weight of the necromancer didn’t seem to even be noticeable to it as it sped through the snow quickly enough to keep pace with the other two. The heavy, rhythmic stomps of the eight legs rapidly hitting the icy ground echoed far into the distance and must have sounded downright terrifying to any unaware onlooker. And so, the distance between Valor and the goblin settlement was covered in mere minutes by the tireless machines – until the spider suddenly came to a halt a few hundred meters away from the makeshift castle.

“What’s wrong?” Iris worried as the spider confusedly spun in place.

“Muffled… but does the wrong necromancer not hear it?” The spider asked and stopped moving to allow for a moment of quiet.

Outside of the steps of King and Leggy as they backtracked to see what was happening, and the wind faintly blowing across the field, the inquisitor didn’t hear a thing. “What am I supposed to be listening for?”

“A flat tone frequency of twenty-eight thousand four hundred and seven times per second, as well as a repeating short hum of sixteen oscillations per second – the standard idle call of an activated minor frequency storage. The One of Amora shall demonstrate!” The spider said and let out two tones, both of them entirely inaudible to humans.

“Thanks, but that entire sentence means nothing to me.” Iris admitted, smiled awkwardly and tried to listen more closely. “I still don’t hear anything.”

The spider spun around in place for a while more, staring down at the ground before plunging its head into the snow to search for something. When it lifted its head back up, it presented a small white crystal to Iris, holding it with the delicate pincers below its eyes. Seeing the crystal, both King and Leggy noticed the sound Iris couldn’t hear and searched through the snow around them to find a few more identical crystals.

“I’m sorry but I don’t know what that is.” The necromancer was forced to admit again.

“Observe.” The spider stated and let out a mechanical tone, to which the crystal reacted by shining faintly.

Suddenly a fairly loud noise emanated from the glowing crystal. “Look, death couldn’t take me when it tried. Do you really think this roundabout bullshittery is going to work any better? Sooner or later, someone will notice what’s up and figure it out – and until then, I’ll be sure to make every moment of your existence worse than whatever fate you idiots claim to be working against.” The voice of a young woman said with a mocking tone.

“This is the burden I elected to bear, Brume, do your worst and I will weather it.” Another, distorted voice replied.

“Tekky, Tekky, Tekky… It’s like you don’t realize what you’ve done. You’ve made it so that I can’t tire, don’t need to sleep, eat or drink – and you’re stuck out here in the snow with me.” The first voice laughed.

The distorted voice replied with a laugh of its own. “Threatening me with pain? Without your crown, you can not hurt me in a way that matters.”

“Pain? Oh, not at all! I’d rather not get any of that gross stuff on me.” The first voice snickered, but as it spoke, the recording started to suddenly stutter and the light within the crystal flickered. “We’ll start with a thorough exploration of a few subjects near and dear to my heart, such as which piece of kitchenware is objectively the most attractive – where I will describe each and every one of them in a wholly inappropriate and frankly disturbingly steamy detail. As the second act I’ve planned to sing my rendition of the popular song ‘ten thousand bottles of beer on the wall’, for which I have prepared a choreography for – there will be no halftimes. Then, assuming someone hasn’t come and get me by then, we’ll have us a proper girl talk! You have no idea of the pile of exotic insecurities I have to offer! Then-”

In the middle of the rather worrying list of activities, the crystal began to crack and suddenly shattered. However, instead of sending out a hail of shrapnel, it simply vanished from existence, and once more, everyone present could feel the world itself lurch into a new position, where the crystal hadn’t existed at all.

“Is… is it supposed to do that?” Iris asked as the spider confusedly swiped the air where the crystal had been.

The spider didn’t answer, instead it dove into the snow again to find a second crystal and let out the tone to activate it as well. The same recording sounded out from the other crystal, though now it was distorted and patchy from the start, and the crystal removed itself from existence only about halfway into the recording they had heard before.

“Highly irregular!” The spider declared. “The voice! It brings warmth with it… Calls out from the dark. The One of Amora, did well… Yes!”

Iris had noticed something about the recording as well. “Did it say ‘Brume’?”

“Affirmative, but what is a ‘brume’? Linguistic pattern suggests a person, possibly one of the participants of the frequency record.” The spider asked with the lights on its stone surface brightly lit up in excitement.

“Brume is a name reserved for a white necromancer, kind of like how my name is Iris, when that isn’t what my parents called me.” The inquisitor shared a brief glimpse into the confusing mess that was the necromancer naming tradition. “Though even Iris is actually a temporary name. Should things go the way we hope they will, in a few years I will be called ‘Impera’ and change into very slightly differently colored robes.”

“Curious! The One of Amora has been in the world for a much longer time, yet remains The One of Amora.” The simulacrum said.

Iris frowned. “Your name is ‘The One of Amora’? Like the whole thing? That sure is a mouthful.”

“The One of Amora’s full designation directly translates into ‘Intrusive Misery Unit zero-zero-zero-one, Amora pattern, Audible Lament platform, Relay Communicator, Erratic Judgement Central hub, designation one – Sweet cheeks.’” The spider listed off its full name. “Impera may simplify The One of Amora to ‘Amora’ for as long as there are no additional Amora Pattern units present, as that may cause confusion.”

“What was that at the end there?” Iris pointed out. “The aureun listed all of that and added ‘Sweet cheeks’ at the end?”

“A recent addendum by the ones who repaired The One of Amora. A suggestive remark on the size of the communications relay thread fabrication module.” Amora explained somewhat proudly.

“O… kay. Just call me Iris though, I need to actually earn the name change. But we’re getting sidetracked pretty badly here.” Iris returned them to the actual important subject they were trying to understand. “Why are there a bunch of these crystals just strewn around on the snow and why is there a conversation between a possible White One and someone called ‘Tekky’ recorded on it? As far as I know, there are no current white ones… in fact there hasn’t been one in a good while.”

Amora remained quiet for a while as it inspected one of the remaining crystals. “The One of Amora is certain that the recording is of the correct necromancer. The signature within the frequency recorders confirms they were made by those of Erratic Judgement. Presumably the correct necromancer acquired them on her visit.”

Iris felt a chill go down her back. If she was looking for an actual white necromancer, it definitely changed things. “I trust you that it makes sense, so let’s work with it. So why are they on the ground here? She spoke as if she was expecting someone to find her… Do we think that’s why they are here? Seems like a pretty risky play to expect someone come through here. Then again, we just did.”

“The recording implies an adversary relationship between the correct necromancer and Tekky. Implications of battle, though no evidence of it.” Amora joined in on the pondering while collecting more of the crystals. In total, the simulacra had found twelve more crystals, but decided to keep them inactive as they appeared to vanish when used for some reason.

As the two muttered their theories, King and Leggy came up with their own suggestion. Waving their arms to get the attention of the other two, they then pointed at the goblin castle, well within sight of the area.

Iris briefly removed her hand from the warmth of her pockets to snap her fingers. “Nice catch! The goblin queen must have seen it if something really happened here. We should head over to greet Her Majesty.”

The last few meters of the journey were no more of a hassle than the earlier ones for the ancient machines, and much of the area around the castle was actually surprisingly clear of snow, as the little green critters kept stomping it and pushing it around while going about their gobliny businesses. Noticing the visitors, the goblins immediately gathered from every reach of the kingdom and swarmed them. Seeing Iris riding on top of Amora, a few of them proceeded to imitate her and climbed on, and when they ran out of space, others clung on to the spider’s legs. Iris worried that it might have annoyed Amora, but they genuinely seemed to enjoy carrying the critters around. King and Leggy were similarly forced to pick up as many goblins as they could carry on their way to the castle, but that much was expected from the housecarl and king of the nation. Interestingly enough, the frigid temperatures didn’t seem to bother the goblins in the slightest. While they clearly enjoyed the modest hear the simulacra produced, they had been running around in their makeshift clothing, without shoes or gloves for the entire winter so far.

When Iris hopped off her mechanical ride, a nearby goblin immediately took interest in her. “Why wings? Are a bird?” It asked as it tucked on her blue robe.

“No, I’m not a bird, I’m a necromancer. It’s a bit complicated to explain why I have wings.” Iris said and smiled gently to the curious creature. “Might your queen be around here somewhere?”

The goblin thought about the question for a moment. “The queen… hiding? Come to goblin last dark, then guest… Tenkele! Queen tell goblin to hide in castle because fight, now she hide instead.” It tried to explain and pointed at the snowy field Iris and the simulacra had just come through. “There… but hiding.”

Iris turned to look at the empty field behind her. Besides the tracks they had left and the few straws of hay that poked through the snow, there didn’t seem to be anything there, not even a recent disturbance of the snowbank. Below the ground, the remains left behind from the countless attempts to take Valor still rested like they had for a long time, though in them, she could feel the slightest remnants of a passing necromantic power. If anything, the most suspicious thing about the field was how silent and motionless it was, but a bit of snow-covered field generally wasn’t that exciting to begin with, so the point of it turning suspiciously bland was hazy to begin with.

“Are you sure about that? I’m not seeing any signs of battle, or anything else for that matter?” Iris questioned the validity of the goblin’s story.

“Of course not see, hiding!” The goblin repeated its claim, full of conviction.

“Okay… Let’s say that’s all true, I think someone else we’re looking for was involved in the fight. What else can you tell me about that night?” Iris questioned the critter just in case, though she didn’t have much faith in its usefulness as a witness. “How about this ‘Tenkele’ thing, what is that?”

Once it realized what was being asked, the goblin began pulling on Iris’ robes and guiding her across the area they had mostly cleared of snow. By the wall of the castle, in a thoroughly stomped spot, dozens of pieces of salvaged metal shards had been stabbed into the ground. Most of them were rusted and likely dug up from the ground, while others seemed like intentionally broken bits of armor or tools. Each one being ten to twenty centimeters long, they formed a clear circular boundary with some shards closer to the middle point inside it. Each of the shards was also distinctively leaned towards the middle, where a clearly stolen silver ring was being held up by three knitting pins. By the ring, there was a tightly wound ball made out of a strip of linen.

“What is all this?” Iris asked and gestured towards the entire arrangement.

“Tenkele!” The critter screeched.

“What? This whole thing?” The necromancer puzzled and couldn’t even fathom a guess at what this Tenkele could possibly be.

The goblin nodded happily after being understood. “At first, small, like you! Then very size!”

“What the…” Iris muttered and picked up the ring to make sure it wasn’t important. It was made out of a decent quality silver, but ultimately had a simple design. The engraving on the inner surface simply read a date about twenty years ago and had no other details. As far as she could tell, the goblins had at some point found someone’s lost piece of jewelry and it was chosen to represent something, likely for aesthetic reasons. “How big was this thing exactly? Say, if I was standing by it, how big would I be?”

The goblin blankly stared at the field, long enough for Iris to start to worry that be question may have been too complicated. After a long pause, it picked up a suitable piece of dried mud that had fallen off the cracks of the castle wall and placed it by the arrangement. If the scale was to be believed and the chip of mud was roughly the size of a person, this Tenkele being would have been well over hundred meters in diameter.

“Very size!” The goblin repeated, taking the nervous silence as awe.

“Right… Thank you. You’ve been very helpful.” Iris uttered and searched through her pockets for a suitable reward for the critter. Lacking anything else that wouldn’t have been incredibly dangerous to the goblins, she handed it a small bar of blue wax with bone dust mixed into it, meant for sealing inquisitorial messages. While it did technically enable the goblin to forge messages, that didn’t really seem likely for various reasons. “I think I need to have a talk with my friends now…”

While Iris had interrogated the goblin, and the members of the court had entertained the rest to keep them out of the way, Amora had done their fare share of snooping around by listening and observing the critters. “The One of Amora believes that the fractured nature of the their once great soul has partly protected the second artificial children from the false memories. The One of Amora considers it likely that the correct necromancer, Brume and The Goblin Queen are the same individual. Further alteration has been detected since this realization. A possible conclusion could be that the individual is not allowed to be remembered in their entirety.”

Iris threw her arms up into the air and gave up trying to understand most of what was being said that day, only grasping onto the general idea. “Sure! Why not?!” She exclaimed. “Also, the Tekky from the recording is probably some kind of a building-sized nightmare construct – and considering it wasn’t instantly ground to dust by a damn white one, we might be in a lot of trouble.”

“Irrelevant! The One of Amora must find the correct necromancer!” The spider disregarded the warning.

Iris herself was duty bound to find The White One, if one had truly appeared into the world, so she didn’t have much in the way of options anymore – but it did make her a bit less anxious that the simulacra were so determined to dwell deeper into the mystery they happened to share. Figuring that if the theory of the goblin queen and the white one being the same person was true, the inquisitor decided to take a quick look inside the castle just in case it had any more clues in it.

Expecting to see mostly trash collected by the goblins, she was surprised by a person-sized figure sitting on the floor of the castle, leaning against the mound that had some sort of a throne on top of it. Thinking it was some kind of a strange statue or carving, she approached it out of curiosity – the thought that it could be the remains of something living never even crossed her mind for obvious reasons. A thick layer of snow had piled on top of the figure, as it had been snowing at a slow but steady state for the last couple of days, though the inquisitor estimated the layer to be from only the last few hours – certainly not from the night before. It took almost an embarrassing amount of time for Iris to go from noticing that the ‘statue’ was made out of wood, to realizing that she now knew someone made out of wood and hadn’t seen them during the day.

“Xamiliere?” She whispered, and brushed off some of the snow.

A green spark suddenly ignited within the spriggan and she grabbed the necromancer’s hand. Iris could see a brief flash of hope in the glowing green eyes, but they immediately dulled and a disappointed apathy filled the spriggan’s face. However, she didn’t let go of Iris’ hand quite yet.

“What are you doing here?” Iris inquired. She didn’t really know the spriggan by anything besides looks and the rumors that made her out to be a fairly sketchy character, but something about the look in the spirit’s eyes convinced her to not move away.

Xamiliere looked around for a moment. “I… I don’t know… I just kept walking this morning and ended up here.”

Iris brushed off some more snow from the top of the spirggan’s head, which still somehow had green leaves growing on it. “Is everything alright? You seem… lost?”

“Do you ever feel just empty? Like there suddenly was nothing inside you – like whatever was in there was torn out and now you’re just a husk?” The spriggan asked and didn’t even attempt to get up.

“Fortunately, no.” Iris said and sat down on the cold stone beside the spriggan. “I have Mournvalley to look after, no matter how bad it gets.”

“Lucky you.” Xamiliere laughed dryly. “I vividly remember being happy, ecstatic even, mere days ago. I had something, but I can’t place a finger on what. I just know that it was taken from me and now… I don’t even feel sad – there’s just… nothing. There’s an ingrained purpose in me, but I can’t find a reason to do it anymore. Why do you do whatever it is that you do? Is there much fame and fortune in being an inquisitor? Do you have loved ones you want to leave a better homeland for?”

“Fame or fortune?” Iris chuckled. “I mostly just see fear in people’s eyes, and the pay sucks. I could probably clear snow in Valor for more coin. As for people, no. I realize this must sound dumb, but ultimately, I do it because I was told to.”

The spriggan stared Iris with a hint of disdain. “You were right, that does sound dumb.”

“You didn’t need to be so blunt about it.” The necromancer sighed. “But it isn’t that simple. I just see the strings, and the hands mine are held by… used to, anyway.”

Xamiliere let out a tired sigh. “Oh, so you’re just insane… I guess that tracks with your kind.”