The Necromancer's Fog
There's an old saying.
If you listen to your elders, even in your sleep you'll get rice cakes.
Was this one of those times?
"Young master. There's some rather ominous fog up ahead."
"......So there is."
How far had we come after hearing Herben's words? Just before the sun set, we witnessed a suspicious sight.
Why had what began as a light stroll stretched on until sunset?
Simple.
Because the old soldier Herben had said so.
How about we go a bit further?
We could make it back even after dark, and if not, we could always camp. No problem, we'd said.
So we kept going, and lo and behold—a thoroughly suspicious fog stretched out before our eyes.
"What do you suppose that is?"
"You don't know?"
"......No. Embarrassingly, even on the battlefield I've never seen fog like that. Milo, what about you?"
"Same here."
Zeke and Milo seemed to know nothing about the fog before them.
That was when our wise old soldier Herben stepped forward.
"Hmm, young master."
"Yes, Herben."
"You know that this humble one fought in the Kingdom War alongside the Baron, correct?"
"Yes, I know."
"Many necromancers also took part in that Kingdom War. One of them was your mother, young master."
"Oh, is that so?"
I didn't know much about my birth mother.
Before the miracle of my past life had surfaced, she was just......
......just an ordinary person.
But thinking about it now, something felt off.
When I came to Falaon with Mother, we never once ran into monsters or bandits.
Well, we did meet some ruffians in a village—but those ruffians had fled in inexplicable terror.
And now that I thought about it.
Was it because she was a necromancer?
You know how it is.
So her precious son wouldn't have to see anything rough, she must have quietly moved undead to take care of bandits and monsters before they ever got close.
And the village ruffians?
Well...... she must have had her ways.
Anyway.
"But why does that matter?"
"I experienced quite a bit back then. One of those things was fog like this."
"Fog?"
"Yes. This humble one doesn't know necromancy in any detail, so I can't say much with certainty—but I do know that necromancers like to lay down fog like this when deploying their undead. Among us soldiers we used to say they were farting...... but the noble lords called it deploying a domain."
"So you're saying this is a necromancer's fog?"
"That I don't know either. However......"
"However?"
"It seemed that among necromancers, there was something they could sense the moment they stepped into the fog. Your mother, young master, also sensed the presence of an opposing necromancer in similar situations and saved us more than once."
"Hmm."
So in the end, it came down to this.
That fog could be a necromancer's fog......
And if I, a fellow necromancer, entered it, I would know for certain?
"Of course, this might just be this old man's excessive worry......"
"No. Wait a moment."
I cut Herben off and fell into thought.
Honestly, I didn't put much stock in the saying that listening to elders brings rice cakes even in your sleep.
But.
Herben noticed something strange even before he saw that fog.
He had noticed that Merlyn's third daughter was later than expected.
And now thick fog blanketed the path ahead.
Is this a coincidence?
No. Not to my eyes.
More than anything, a memory kept circling through my mind for some reason.
Words that bastard—my former master candidate—had let slip.
—Yes, I see. So that's how it was. In the end, he died. In the end, he died. The grand plan was not far off...... and yet it ended up like this......
Grand plan.
It meant he had been plotting something large, and for this memory to surface at this exact moment felt like a kind of intuition.
Even if I was just connecting dots......
Thinking about it, yes.
Bilheim bringing me On Death hadn't been long after the Blood Awakening Ceremony.
In other words, that necromancer had set up shop not far from here.
Is there some connection to that guy?
Of course, it might not be.
I didn't know the details either.
But.
This...... there might be something here.
"What will you do?"
"Let's go in for now."
"Then this humble one will enter first."
Herben volunteered as scout, but I shook my head.
"No. You said a necromancer has to enter to know something. Then I should go in first."
"But......"
"I will not accept any objections."
The one Herben should risk his life for was not me, but my father.
At least by my standards.
"Young master, then I will go in!"
"I-I'll go with Zeke if he goes......!"
I left Zeke and Milo's pleas behind me.
But that bastard Milo.
He's subtly looking out for himself, isn't he.
Right?
Well, I'd let it slide.
Yeah—honestly I wasn't an idiot. I knew Milo was still around because Zeke had beaten him into staying.
Anyway.
"I will take the lead."
According to the wise old soldier Herben's counsel, it was right for me to go first.
So how many steps did I take at the front?
Huh. So you really don't think before you move?
"What do you mean?"
No—I'm asking why you have to take the lead.
"Well......"
Why? Because I was the right person for it.
But to my ancestor with his primitive medieval mindset, my actions must have looked like some incredibly noble and responsible noblesse oblige.
Indeed. Worthy of my descendant.
"......"
Magnificent, my descendant.
Please just shut up.
Don't call me a bastard and curse me for it.
From a necromantic standpoint, that ancestor was not my ancestor.
My true ancestor was the original spirit that had already ascended to the heavens. That one was merely the remnant of memories and experiences left after the essence had vanished.
Anyway.
"Huh."
Had the wise old soldier Herben been right after all?
The moment I set foot into the fog, I felt something.
How to put it.
Like the feeling of trespassing into someone else's studio apartment?
Not just any studio.
A room thick with the smell of a bachelor living alone.
That kind of room.
If speaking of beasts—the scent of a male...... the feeling of walking into a space filled with some unpleasant, unidentifiable male odor.
Not that it was literally a male or anything. Just understand it as the sensation of entering someone else's territory.
But there was something strange.
What is this?
It was someone else's studio, yes, but......
This feeling. This sensation.
......It seems like the owner isn't here right now.
After figuring that much out, I stepped back out of the fog.
"Young master!"
"Are you unharmed!"
Zeke and Milo rushed over with tears in their eyes, but I let Milo's words slide right past me.
Coward.
The true loyal retainer was Zeke alone.
Anyway.
"Young master, how was it?"
I answered Herben calmly.
"It doesn't seem to be ordinary fog."
"Then......"
"Yes. As speculated, it appears to be fog created by a necromancer."
"Huh!"
"A necromancer's fog!"
Zeke and Milo made a fuss, but once again I let Milo's words slide and continued.
"However, I did not sense the presence of the caster."
"The caster was not sensed...... May I ask in detail what it felt like?"
"Yes. So......"
I explained in full detail exactly what I had felt inside the fog.
I trusted that Herben, who had seen so much in the Kingdom War, might be able to add something to what I had sensed.
Did that trust get through?
Herben spoke.
"A feeling as if the caster had been away for a long time...... Is that correct?"
"A long time...... Yes. That's right."
"Then what you felt, young master, is correct. This fog is the work of a necromancer, and for some reason that necromancer has been away for a long while."
Hmm. If so?
"This humble one is no necromancer, but from my short experience, what you saw is correct, young master. However......"
"Is there something that bothers you?"
Herben answered.
"Even if there is no necromancer, the Merlyn Count family would never have set up a loose escort. We must take that into account."
"Hmm."
Yes. That was right.
The Merlyn Count family was a great house incomparable to the current Falaon.
Moreover.
Not just in scale, but bloodline-wise as well, right?
At my Blood Awakening Ceremony, Sir Valt had said so.
Talent manifestation of this level could only be seen in the great houses.
Of course, only blood relatives inherited that bloodline talent—but powerful individuals gathered under a powerful leader.
Such a family would never have sent mediocre people.
It won't be easy, it seems.
You think so?
My ancestor answered my whisper.
Yes. As I said early on—even if a hundred rabbits gather, they cannot catch a wolf. Surely a wolf is lurking inside there. Perhaps more than that.
Mm.
I thought so too.
Even if this was a relatively lax region, they were sending the count's child. They wouldn't have been careless with the selection of personnel.
Who knew?
They might have sent someone stronger than Sir Valt, and something still went wrong.
In other words, no one knew what danger lurked beyond.
But.
"Sir Herben."
"Heh heh. Calling this lowly one 'Sir'? I gratefully accept your words. What is it?"
"If the count's third child dies here, what would happen?"
"Hmm."
The wise veteran Sir Herben pondered a moment, then opened his mouth.
"War could break out. They know our territory has a magic stone vein, after all. If they get a chance to swallow it up with just one daughter's life...... they might even welcome it."
This was outrageous!
Was the count a monstrous father who would sell even his own daughter for power?!
Unforgivable.
But even more unforgivable was the reality of our territory.
In this situation, there's nothing we can do!
I agree, Ancestor.
They say great power comes with great responsibility?
No. That wasn't it.
Even if your power is small—if you have much to protect, great responsibility follows!
"I'm going in."
"Heh heh. We will go with you. Despite appearances, I and those friends are quite used to this sort of thing. The problem is those new recruit friends over there......"
"Of course we'll go together! It's the path our young master takes!"
"I-I will too!"
Milo, shut up.
Anyway.
"Then let's go in. Vanguard is...... Golgol."
Golgol!
Golgol stepped forward holding a massive greatsword...... well, it was only a greatsword by our territory's standards. Originally it was just a large sword.
Anyway, Golgol advanced with the greatsword raised.
And behind.
"Tiktak."
Tiktak!
"No. You don't need to step forward. Just send the Minitons."
Tiktak? Tiktatak!
The dim-witted Tiktak nodded, sent the Minitons ahead, and then took its place at my side.
And.
"Sir Herben and the soldiers—protect Tiktak. And Sir Zeke, Sir Milo."
"Yes. Please give your orders."
"Yes!"
"Stand alongside me."
Even Sir Herben did not object to this formation.
Leaving experience and years aside, in terms of pure combat power this formation was the best.
And so.
"We're going."
"Loyalty!"
"Loyalty!"
As the knights shouted with full-throated vigor, I exhaled the breath I had drawn deep into my lungs and roared.
"Valhaaal—laaaaaaaa!"
The battlefield calls me.
Valhalla calls me!