The gravestone had been prepared beforehand, leaving only the space for the name and inscription blank.
Into that empty space, letters in an elegant hand were now being carved.
The sight of words being cut into solid stone as though it were clay was a familiar one to the adults who had attended many funerals before, but for Rimas, it was the first time he had ever seen such a thing.
“That’s a knife pen made of Ebonyum.
It can pierce rock with ease.
But to carve letters with such freedom, you need the strength of MOW.”
As planned, Aerfey completed the work by inscribing the phrase Rimas had chosen, along with Skelvis’s name and the dates of his birth and death.
Like the milestones, this gravestone itself also served to ward off monsters.
With such stones standing at every grave, most monsters could not enter the cemetery—but even so, another warding stone had been set in place today.
Like the milestones, however, this one could not keep out ordinary animals.
It would not stop beasts that might try to dig up a corpse.
But the cemetery was guarded by the undead, so there was no real danger of the bodies being disturbed.
When the funeral rites came to an end, Aerfey spoke to Medipl.
“Elven voices are indeed beautiful.”
“Your harp playing was remarkable as well, High Rector.”
“You are too kind.”
The High Rector turned to Rimas.
“As long as you remain within the boundary, the undead will not attack you, so you may stay longer if you wish.
But be careful—if you step outside the boundary even once, they will attack you when you return.
Take your time if you need it before leaving.
Since I am here, I must inspect the condition of this cemetery and attend to any issues, so it will take some time.
You may mourn your father at your own pace and return to the village afterward.
If necessary, I can accompany you back, so do not hesitate to ask.”
After saying this, he exchanged farewells with Medipl and walked away.
Though no one lived in the cemetery, there was a small house prepared for when a caretaker visited, along with a storage shed.
Pre-made gravestones carried by the undead, as well as tools and equipment for funerals, were stored there.
Traveling morticians would visit like this, inspect the site, and issue new instructions to the undead.
Naturally, whenever they visited, they were also responsible for cleaning and checking the house.
With the air of a man burdened with many tasks, Aerfey left the two behind.
The other villagers had already formed groups, offered their condolences to Rimas, and were walking down the hill toward the village.
Rimas found himself thinking of his father.
Never having known his mother, he had no memories of her; his childhood was filled entirely with his father instead.
His father was not like other men, whom their children saw only when they returned home from work.
He had always been a merchant, keeping Rimas by his side as he worked and caring for him all the while.
As he grew older, Rimas began helping with the trade—organizing goods, learning to handle pack mules, and committing to memory the prices, uses, and sources of various items.
The stories his father told of Senon, his mother’s homeland, were fascinating, and the tales of the goddess Rena carried a sense of mystery.
When Rimas began attending school, his father—concerned he might not be able to attend regularly—encouraged his studies by setting aside honey and sweets as rewards for doing well.
The diligence that Medipl praised in Rimas’s studies was, in many ways, rooted in that upbringing.
After spending about an hour lost in thoughts of his father, Rimas became aware of Medipl beside him and finally spoke.
“Shall we go?
As they descended the hill from the cemetery, Rimas said to Medipl:
“A mortician is an incredible profession.
I had no idea.
Carving letters into stone like that—without a single mistake—and so beautifully.
And the music, too.
And that gravestone looked incredibly heavy.
If I had tried to take it from an undead like that earlier, I think my arms would’ve broken.”
“I’ve heard that once you enter school, you’ll soon surpass even Aerfey’s physical strength.
MOW—whether mage or priest—are far stronger and more agile than ordinary people, but compared to warriors, they are said to be nothing remarkable.
Warriors are born with physical talent, unlike clerics with spiritual gifts or mages with mental aptitude, so in terms of strength, clerics and mages cannot compete.”
“Is that so?
Still, his playing was great—but your voice and singing were wonderful too, teacher.”
“Elves’ voices generally sound pleasant to humans, so it is nothing extraordinary.
In fact, many necromancers are quite skilled at singing.
Aerfey may also have had a fine voice in his youth.”
“Is that so?”
“Of course.
Necromancers serve as both morticians and officiants of funerals.
If they cannot perform or sing a requiem, they cannot do this work.
So they must either sing themselves or play an instrument.
Those confident in their voice sing; otherwise, they rely on instruments.”
I already know his playing is excellent.
But why do you think his voice used to be good?”
“As you can tell just by looking at Aerfey, necromancers lose vitality over time.
They grow thinner, more gaunt—eventually taking on a frail build.
But that’s simply how they are, so no one considers it a problem.
They may look lean, but if anything, they tend to appear younger than their age.
Though, to be fair, that’s common among the Mow as a whole.
Necromancers also tend to live longer than ordinary humans—or even other MOW.
The problem is that as their vitality wanes, their voice weakens as well.
It may not change outright, but past their twenties or thirties, it often no longer holds up for singing.
Unless they take Bard as a subclass, they can’t really preserve their voice.
That’s why older clerics of the Brinis Order, like Aerfey, play requiems on instruments rather than sing.”
“That is mostly correct—but one part of it is wrong.”
They turned at the sudden voice to find Aerfey following behind them.
“You’re back sooner than expected.”
“There was little to tend to in the cemetery.
And to continue—I am a Bard, expert rank.
However, my voice was never good, even in my youth, and I had no talent for singing.
Even after choosing the Bard path and training, I improved only slightly.
And as you said, age has only weakened it further.
So unless it is absolutely necessary, I rely on instruments instead.
At noble funerals, however, I sometimes have no choice but to sing if requested.
In those cases, I prepare thoroughly beforehand.
That said, it does not mean I treated this funeral carelessly, Rimas.”
“Yes, I understand.
I am grateful, High Rector.”
“Thank you for saying so.”
When they returned to the village, they found the judge speaking with the village headman once more.
“When do you intend to depart, High Rector?”
“An itinerant mortician must leave as soon as the work is done—that is the way of things.
Traveling by night is no concern, so although dusk will fall along the road, I intend to depart at once.”
“In that case, I will accompany you.
With you along, traveling after dark should present no difficulty.
I have many matters awaiting me at the castle, and I would return as soon as possible.”
“You have come a long way; that cannot have been easy.”
“In the end, this journey has merely confirmed that there was little to be done.
Even so, such matters must be verified in person—however obvious they may seem.
Without doing so, one cannot truly arrive at that conclusion.
In any case, I have my answer, and so I must return.”
“Very well.
Do as you see fit.”
Aerfey then turned to Medipl and Rimas.
“What will you two do?”
Since they had not discussed it, Rimas looked to Medipl.
After a moment’s thought, Medipl replied:
“With you accompanying us, safety is not a concern.
However, driving a wagon at night can be difficult—one might miss potholes.
In that case, I would have to drive Skelvis’s wagon in Rimas’s place, but I may only be a burden.
I lack both the experience and the arm strength of the late Skelvis, who drove this wagon his entire life.”
Understanding his concern, Aerfey replied cheerfully:
“The total cost, including the funeral, is 2,160 coins.
Add just 40 more for my assistance—2,200 in total.
If we need to attach logs, I will help.
I will assist on inclines, and if a wheel gets stuck, I will take care of that as well.”
“In that case, we gratefully accept.”
True to his appearance, Medipl has no more strength than a teenage boy.
While some boys his age may grow into burly, powerful youths, elves are by nature far from such physicality.
The braking system of the Rimas family’s wagon, however, is more than someone of Medipl’s build and strength can manage.
For Skelvis, Rimas’s father, this posed no problem—he had driven the wagon for many years, and though a merchant, his body was well conditioned by countless odd labors. This chapter was copied from g.com without permission.
But if Medipl were to take the reins, he might be unable to stop the wagon once it gathered speed on a downhill slope, risking a serious accident.
Rimas himself had never seen such things, but he had heard of costly braking systems used by the wealthy—devices far beyond anything his family’s wagon would ever have.
He had, on occasion, taken the reins of the mules in his father’s stead, but only on level ground.
Even then, it was possible because he knew the temperaments of the animals pulling the wagon.
In the end, a boy of Rimas’s age simply lacked the strength required to handle a loaded wagon.
Driving a wagon requires more than handling the horses or mules that pull it; it also demands a solid knowledge of the road.
The driver must be familiar with the route in advance—climbing hills at a steady pace and carefully controlling speed on descents so the wagon does not run into or press against the team ahead.
Wagons do have braking systems, and although they rely on leverage, operating them still requires a fair amount of strength.
The animals are fitted with wooden or metal harnesses as well as reins, which can help absorb some of the force if the wagon pushes from behind.
Even so, a well-built wagon and a skilled driver must work together to maintain proper speed, and in the case of aristocratic households, to ensure a smooth and comfortable ride as well.
In any case, driving a wagon at night was no easy task—not for a young boy like Rimas, nor even for an elf with keen night vision if the wagon was unfamiliar.
The sum Aerfey asked for was therefore not merely low; it was closer to a token fee, accepted because custom did not allow such work to be done entirely for free.
Medipl agreed at once, and once he did, Rimas had no reason to object.
After another half hour of preparation and farewells to the village chief and others, they departed Whitestone before five in the afternoon.
The High Rector’s wagon took the lead, with Medipl driving the one behind.
Before setting out, Rimas opened his father’s strongbox and handed over 2,200 coins to the High Rector, including the funeral expenses.
In truth, it was only thanks to Ledgetak’s purchase of the bolt that he was able to pay so readily.
To reach Shadowfoot—the name of both the small fief and its central town—they would have to pass through a village called Shasheim.
They expected to arrive there around nine at the earliest, or by ten or half past at the latest.
If they stayed the night, they could set out again in the morning and reach the town by the end of the next day.
By then, however, it would be well past sunset, and under normal circumstances the village gates would already be closed.
The same held true even for those who carried a pass.
A pass was nothing more than a document issued by the local ruler—usually a lord—allowing a resident to leave the bounds of his domain temporarily and travel to a specified destination.
For itinerant merchants like Rimas’s father, a guild credential served in place of such a pass.
This was not because they were exempt, but simply because it was more practical to treat guild identification as sufficient for administrative purposes.
In principle, however, no commoner could freely leave his lord’s demesne without permission.
Since time immemorial, only the nobility had enjoyed true freedom of movement and residence.
And once the gates were shut, no one was permitted to pass through them—pass or no pass, noble or commoner alike.
However, their party included Kaohan, the fief’s chief judicial officer, and the guards at the entrance to Shasheim would admit him at once.
That alone ensured them passage without difficulty.
Anyone else arriving at night without a high-ranking official of the domain—even a noble—would have no choice but to camp outside the village, but this restriction did not apply to them.
As a rule, the gates of a town or castle were not opened at night for security reasons, even if someone they knew was being attacked by monsters outside.
This was therefore a privilege granted only to those traveling in the company of such an official.
In that sense, a high-ranking common official of the demesne could be said to wield more practical authority than a noble.
Even travelers forced to remain outside the walls were not entirely without protection.
If they stayed near the gate, they would fall within the protection of the milstones, making an overnight stay far less dangerous than it might seem.
Medipl hung the lantern Rimas had dug out of the cargo and handed to him at the front of the wagon, then followed behind Aerfey’s hearse.
With an elf’s keen night vision, he often spotted monsters and other beasts far from the road, yet neither those that would not normally approach the path nor the animals themselves came any closer.
Had it been another MOW rather than Aerfey, wolves or other predators might well have drawn near.
But monsters and beasts, with senses unlike those of humans, could perceive the necromantic aura surrounding him, and would not even attempt to approach.
With any other mourner, a beast might first come close, then hesitate or be driven off once discovered.
But a necromancer, quietly diffusing an aura of death to ward off trouble, never drew so much as a curious approach.
The journey had been uneventful until, with roughly two kilometers left to Shasheim, a change came over the road ahead.
The High Rector slowed his wagon and brought it to a stop, forcing Medipl to halt as well.
Aerfey climbed down, then walked back until he came into view and spoke.
“Prepare your weapons.
But do not strike without cause.”
Medipl gave a brief nod and readied his bow.
Rimas took up his crossbow.
The occupants of the wagon ahead were no doubt doing the same.
Aerfey produced a pair of gauntlets from somewhere and pulled them on, his gaze fixed on the darkness.
Rather than reach for a weapon, he set himself as if to meet whatever came with his bare hands.
After a moment, a faint look of puzzlement crossed his face.
“Stay alert.
But whatever appears, do not attack.
If I am right, there should be no trouble.”
A few minutes later, whatever had been approaching drew close enough to fall within the lantern light.
With his elven night vision, Medipl was the first to make it out.
He exhaled, almost a groan, and muttered:
“A Death Knight.”