The Necromancer's house sat far outside the capital.
It was a wreck. Always had been.
The walls were patched with oily paper that flapped whenever the wind caught it, and the whole roof leaked this faint column of miasma that made villagers give the place a wide berth.
You'd think a member of the Hero's Party—a state-sponsored, world-saving squad—would live in a proper house. But no. The Necromancer funneled every coin into research, so home upkeep went straight into the grave. Literally, if you counted the grave markers crammed into the yard.
"What a charming house," Queen Lanza said, and somehow she wasn't even being sarcastic. Her blue eyes glittered as she stared at the rotting door, the makeshift graveyard, and the pile of mysterious junk stacked in the corner like it might start moving.
Hero-Lich cleared his throat. "Honestly, the inside's a mess. Safer if you waited outside, Your Majesty."
"Oh, look! The door opened by itself. Let's go in!"
"...Maybe you could, I don't know, listen to Hero once in a while?"
And just like that, they were both exploring the Necromancer's lair. Every oddity they passed, Lanza wanted to know about. And Hero-Lich? He loved explaining things. Couldn't help himself.
"What's that skull?"
"A soul storage. Normally, a soul slips into the Netherworld within a day of death, but that vault delays the trip. In theory. Still untested on high-intelligence souls, though."
"Why not?"
"Ethics. People complain necromancy's 'against morals' and all that."
"My, Hero, you're quite the expert on necromancy."
"Because I'm a Hero."
"What's that tablet?"
"An old grimoire. Technically, a clay tablet. These days we've got paper, even Arcane Tablets, but back then? It was clay or nothing. Especially for necromancy—since the field was underground for centuries, you've gotta dig into the old stuff."
"You're even a history buff!"
"Because I'm a Hero."
"Necromancy brings the dead back, right?"
"Correct. Though not if they've been gone too long. The body rots, the soul moves on. You know that much."
"Yes... But can't you call a soul back from the Netherworld?"
"Good question. The Necromancer here—my... comrade—focused his research on exactly that. What is the Netherworld really? Can we pull souls back? If so, could we recover ancient knowledge from long-dead sages?"
"And... did he succeed?"
"Not really. He joined the Hero's Party to fund his research, but then the adventuring life left him no time to study."
"That's a shame. Meeting the dead again would be fun."
"...Fun?"
"Of course. Don't you think Humans would love to see their fathers or mothers again, even once? I bet many feel the same."
"Hero agrees. But this country's religion forbids it. That's why necromancers stay hidden. He joined the Party hoping his example would inspire allies... but none came."
"How lonely."
"Necromancy isn't flashy. Heroes get songs sung about them because they overturn impossible odds. Necromancy just... works or doesn't. No drama."
"So the army called him a coward?"
"Pretty much. Soldiers love their 'fight to the death' bravado. Religion says life is sacred, yet the army worships sacrifice. Hero never understood. Still, he learned—now Lich fakes a little 'struggle' so the crowd feels satisfied."
"...Lich?"
"Because I'm a Hero."
They wandered longer than planned, trading thoughts among dusty relics. The guards outside were probably bored out of their minds.
Hero-Lich sorted through scrolls and tools, trying to pack only what was absolutely necessary. But even then, the stack was ridiculous. Smuggling this to Demonkin? Yeah, that'd scream traitor. He couldn't exactly ditch the Hero's body either—it was too useful. So he stood there, scheming logistics in the ruined yard, when—
"Hero. Are you really... you?"
The bluntness froze him. Queen Lanza stepped closer, eyes sharp.
"Today, you've been strange."
"...Battle trauma. Memory's... fuzzy."
"Convenient. Only forgot everything except necromancy?"
Oh no. This was payback for months of dealing with the Demon King's idiot entourage. Lanza was smart. Too smart.
"You were too kind today."
"...Hero's kind. Isn't he?"
"When people asked you about things, what did you always say? Do you remember?"
"...Answer their questions?"
"No. You'd say, 'You don't need to know.'"
Hero-Lich went silent.
"You're dependable, handsome, yes. But there's a coldness. Today... you were warm."
"Didn't feel that warm."
"You explained everything. The real Hero would've brushed me off."
"That's because curiosity deserves answers. If a question dies unanswered, the spark dies too. Especially early on. Having those first sparks answered can shape a whole future. That thrill... it's priceless."
"...You sound like a scholar, not Hero."
"..."
"My Hero... will you keep teaching me things?"
"You're leaving that suspicion hanging?"
"It's not suspicion. You're you. That's enough."
"...."
"Oh, sorry. I didn't mean it as a threat. It's just—no one else indulges me. I've got tutors for etiquette and politics, but no one shares my curiosity. Today, you did. It made me... happy. Unless, of course, you hated it?"
"No. Hero liked it too. Usually everyone cuts him off."
"Then we both enjoyed it. So... let's do it again. Spend more fun time together."
"...Want to try necromancy?"
"Can I?"
"The world says no. Temples will hate it. Soldiers will scorn you. Humans won't give you a place."
"I'm not asking them. I'm asking you."
"...Hero thinks it's a wonderful field."
"Then teach me. In secret."
"...Alright."
"Promise. And no telling anyone."
"I wouldn't. If the Hero's reputation tanks, this body's worthless."
"Even if you're not who you claim... I'll learn necromancy with you."
"Even if what I do is monstrous?"
"Even then. You're the only kind person I've met." She smiled faintly. "Let's head back. Even Heroes can't keep a Queen out too long without scandal."
"And Heroes have to act like Heroes, after all."
They shared a secret smile as they turned for home.
Their shadows stretched across the rough dirt path, long and thin in the evening red, almost no longer human shapes at all.