The Count's Last Card
Simon and Ellen walked the forest path, trading stories as they went.
Over the course of that time, he learned quite a bit about her. Back in her Efnel days, she had been the type to pour everything into a single thing: the raw *firepower* of holy power. But outside of sheer destructive output, her practical capabilities were woefully inadequate, and—worst of all—she couldn't cast even the most commonplace recovery magic, which was what got her expelled. As disqualifications went for a Priest, it was a fairly serious one.
And when he asked why she scraped for money so desperately, it turned out she had lost her parents and was raising her younger siblings all on her own. Simon discovered a whole new side of Ellen that day.
"Um, er... Simon, sir?"
Simon smiled warmly.
"Just call me Simon."
"Ah, yes! Simon."
Ellen had been feeling an inexplicable fondness for this boy. At Efnel, she had been taught that necromancers were, without exception, horrifying and hideous monsters.
But this boy was different. Necromancers, it turned out, were people too—people capable of genuine warmth.
"By the way, about that..."
"Hehe. Well, we've gotten a little closer now, we've even formed an alliance, and it's not like I have the power to do anything to you two anyway."
She glanced at him furtively and gingerly held out her two rope-bound arms.
"So... would it be all right to untie these now?"
Instead of answering, Simon simply kept smiling that same warm smile. A cold sweat broke out down her back.
*Ah. So that's a no.*
[KEKEKE! She's finally lost it!]
Inside the helm, Pier's eye sockets flared.
[Look at this, boy! Coddle a prisoner and before you know it, they forget their place entirely! Snip off a few fingers and they get right back to being meek and—]
"KYAAAH! I-I-I'm so sorry! I don't know what came over me!"
She dropped flat against the ground at once, and Simon hurried to stop her.
"Glad you understand, Ellen. That's enough, Pier."
Pier lowered his greatsword, and Ellen flushed scarlet. Simon struck her as endlessly kind, yet with a decisiveness that cut clean through—two sides of him she hadn't expected to coexist.
Before long, they arrived at the lord's castle.
As planned, Ellen hid herself inside Pier's robe, while Simon and Pier approached the main gate.
"Halt! Who goes there?"
The guards at the gate leveled their spears and shouted. Simon made a show of raising both hands as he answered.
"We've come at the lord's request. I'd like an audience with the lord himself—right now, if possible."
"...What?"
"Did you take an arrow to the head? The lord? In the middle of the night?"
Simon nodded.
"Yes, sir. It's urgent, so I really must see him at once."
The guards exchanged incredulous, hollow laughs.
"Never seen such a special breed of lunatic in my life."
"You think the lord meets with anyone just because they ask? Get lost while I'm asking nicely."
"No, wait—this one's suspicious. Tie him to a post until sunup."
The guard nodded and pulled the rope from his belt. Simon was still smiling as he spoke.
"You'll regret this."
"Bold little brat, aren't you...? Who the hell are you, anyway? State your name and business."
"I'm from Kizen."
Fwoom.
Both guards froze mid-motion.
"PUHAHAHAHAHA! Oh, for f—! This guy is an absolute lunatic!"
"Oh, and if you're Kizen, then I'm Nephthys, you madman!"
The two guards stepped forward to seize him. Simon offered up his arms without resistance, as if to say, *bind me if you can.*
"What's all this racket?"
Just then, the captain of the guard emerged from the side door. The guards snapped to attention in a panic.
"W-we have a suspicious character demanding an audience with the lord, sir. We were about to arrest him."
"A suspicious character?"
"Yes, sir. Out of nowhere he claimed to be from Kizen, so—"
At those words, the captain's face drained chalk-white.
*Ki...zen?*
A string of unexplained disappearances had been plaguing the fief. With an important event approaching, the lord, desperate to bury the ugly business, had secretly lodged a mission request with Kizen. Only the lord's most trusted confidants knew of it.
But three months had passed without a single word, and the lord had all but given up hope.
*...And now they claim someone's actually come?*
The captain studied Simon carefully.
Sharp, intelligent eyes. A composed, unhurried bearing. Even the towering armored figure he'd brought along as an escort.
*Certain. No doubt about it.*
Goosebumps rippled across his entire body.
This boy. He was really, truly from Kizen.
"...BOW."
"Ex-cuse me?"
"HEADS ON THE GROUND, ALL OF YOU!"
The captain roared. The guards instantly dropped their weapons and pressed their foreheads to the dirt, hands clasped behind their backs.
Simon scratched the side of his head at the sudden about-face, and the captain approached with his sword still drawn.
[What now?]
Pier grabbed the hilt of his greatsword, but Simon raised a hand to hold him back. The captain stopped in front of Simon, drove his sword into the ground, and dropped to one knee.
"The failures of my subordinates are entirely my own. I offer my life in apology."
He assumed a posture of baring his neck for the blade. At the sight, the guards burst into wailing protests.
*...Good grief. This is a lot.*
Simon smiled bleakly to himself. Even for a Kizen student, wasn't this going a bit far?
And that was assuming he were a second-year. Simon was a lowly first-year whose fate at the academy hung by a thread—flunk out of Kizen and you went right back to being an ordinary civilian. Hardly the position of someone who could toy with people's lives at will, he thought.
"Enough. Please, get up."
The captain rose stiffly to his feet.
"The fault is mine for causing a commotion at this hour. The guards were only doing their duty, so I'd ask you not to scold them too harshly. Ah—you two, on your feet as well."
The guards, sweat streaming down their foreheads, scrambled upright and snapped into rigid attention, discipline drilled into every line of their bodies.
Simon turned back to the captain.
"Could I see the lord now? There's a matter regarding the commission I must discuss with him urgently."
"Of course, sir. Right this way, please."
[KIKIKIKIKI!]
Simon followed behind the captain, while Pier sneered at the guards as if daring them to object. None of them dared so much as lift their heads.
*...Is this even real?*
*Why would Kizen come to a backwater like this?*
Dawn was approaching.
The sudden arrival of a Kizen envoy threw the entire castle into an uproar.
Simon was shown into a spacious reception room to wait, and the lavish treatment began almost immediately. Warm bread and dishes, tea and wine came out in waves. At one point the maids even brought buckets of water and moved to wash his feet, but Simon, thoroughly embarrassed, declined as quickly as he could.
And a short while later—
"My, my! What an honor it is to receive such a distinguished guest!"
A short, stout middle-aged man with a belly poking out over his belt appeared, beaming from ear to ear. His face was puffy, as if he'd been roused straight from sleep.
"Raymond, Count and lord of Arnish, at your service!"
"Simon Polentia, first-year at Kizen."
The two exchanged a brief handshake and took their seats.
"What a journey you've had! And all because of my humble request?"
"Yes."
"Hehe! How could I ever repay such kindness... You must be utterly exhausted! Forget the mission for now and rest easy while you're here. We'll attend to your every need!"
"There wasn't much to be tired out by, really."
Simon leaned deep into the backrest.
"I came by teleportation circle, after all."
"Ahh...! Is, is that so! Kizen truly is on another level! Haha! Now, now—have a drink! A premium vintage from the grapes of this very land!"
Raymond popped the cork on the wine.
Even from a distance, the stuff smelled punishingly strong. He poured a glass and extended his open palm.
"Come, come."
"Thank you."
Raymond drained his glass in one clean motion. Refusing outright would have been poor manners, so Simon merely touched the rim to his lips.
Shortly afterward, the maids brought out a lavish spread crowned by an entire roasted pig.
Simon pleaded that he'd already had dinner and cut straight to it.
"Actually, I'd like to talk about the commission."
"Ah, the commission! Important, of course, but it's late and rest should come first, no? Life at Kizen isn't exactly school life, is it? It's a battlefield! Hehehe!"
At Raymond's clap, the side door of the reception room swung open.
Simon's blood ran cold. Women in outfits that covered only the bare essentials swarmed in around him. Five more stood in a line behind Raymond.
"Go on, take your time and pick whichever girl catches your eye. Hehehe!"
There was nowhere to look.
As Simon went red-faced and stared fixedly down at his own knees, Raymond smiled a knowing smile.
*'Kizen,' he says—but he's still a cub whose fangs haven't even come in.*
Perhaps the boy could be coaxed along even more easily than he'd expected.
At Raymond's signal, the women behind him draped themselves over Simon's shoulders and arms, while two more knelt at his sides and began pouring wine into golden goblets.
"...My lord."
"Hehehe! Yes? Which one do you fancy?"
"I'm still a minor, and this sort of thing makes me rather uncomfortable."
There was a shy flush to his face, but the force and resolve in his voice were unmistakable.
"There is something important I wish to discuss with you, one on one. Would you ask everyone to withdraw?"
Raymond met Simon's gaze head-on and swallowed hard.
*The little runt has a surprising amount of presence, doesn't he?* There was something about him that made people straighten up without meaning to.
"...I-if that's how it must be, then so be it."
Raymond reluctantly dismissed the women. They filed out with lingering, regretful looks, blowing kisses and winking at Simon as they went.
Simon was busy concluding that he would never, ever adapt to the customs of adults.
"Well, it's very late. If what you want to discuss is the commission, we could pick this up tomorrow..."
"No. It needs to be now."
"..."
Raymond forced a smile.
*Once they start pushing hard, playing nice stops being an option.*
This was his final card.
"Come in."
At Raymond's signal, another door opened. A butler in immaculate livery bowed deeply and set a box down before Simon.
Inside, atop the 50-gold commission fee, sat an assortment of jewels.
"Your payment. I apologize for mentioning it so late, but the matter has already been resolved. Relax here at the castle for whatever time remains, collect your fee, and return to your school."
"That's odd. From what I've gathered, the facts differ somewhat."
Simon said it mildly.
"I bought information from the Thieves' Guild. As of this very morning, another disappearance occurred."
Raymond's jaw clenched with an audible grind.
*...Those damned vermin! Useless to the last!*
"You can't collect payment for a job that isn't finished. And I'd rather not deal with the audit Kizen sends down afterward."
"Hehehe! Ah, that—I'll handle all the paperwork so there's no—"
"Let's talk about the commission."
"*No.*"
Raymond's expression went frosty.
"You heard me. Sit tight and be patient."
"..."
"Kizen or not, a mere first-year wants to push around a count and a territorial lord? I'll say it nicely once: wash your hands of this business. I'm even offering your fee—so why all the fuss?"
*So the mask finally comes off.*
Simon grinned.
"First advice, now threats. Getting bold, aren't we, my lord?"
"..."
"You seem rather worked up. I'll come back early tomorrow morning, and we can speak then."
Simon rose slowly from his seat, the corner of his mouth curling upward.
*Now. Come to me.*
And exactly as Simon had predicted, Raymond slammed his fist down on the armrest.
"I TOLD you to STAY HERE!"
CLATTER! CLATTER! CLATTER!
Doors burst open all around the room, and more than ten armed soldiers came flooding in.
In an instant they had Simon surrounded—but not a flicker of alarm crossed his face.
"So it comes to force, after all."
With an unhurried gesture, Simon pulled an imaginary lever.
"Then I suppose I can't sit idle either."
FWOOOOSH!
A subspace yawned open across the floor of the hall, and out poured skeletons, blue flames whirling in their empty eye sockets.
"U-undead!"
"It's undead!"
In a heartbeat, more than ten Legionified skeletons came clattering forward to face the guards.
The color drained from the guards' faces.
Every soul on the continent carried a deep, rooted terror of the undead and the necromancers who commanded them. A fear instilled through education, through history, through indoctrination—it was never easily shaken off.
*H-how many are there?*
And Raymond's pupils were trembling too.
He'd heard it said once that the measure of a necromancer's power lay in the number of his summons.
But a first-year, commanding a force at the scale of an entire platoon?
This was no ordinary student. No—claiming to be a first-year at all had to be a lie.
[KEHAHAHAHAHAHA!]
Pier tore the helm from his head. A bare skull emerged, blue fire raging in its eye sockets.
"GUH—!"
"He was never even human?!"
[Excellent! Just excellent! Our family's going to grow by quite a few tonight!]
His voice rolled across the hall like thunder. Pier's mouth split open into a monstrous, cavernous grin. Fear spread through the room like a plague, and the soldiers' legs shook uncontrollably.
"Now, then."
Simon walked forward in slow, unhurried steps.
Terrified, Raymond shrank back without realizing it—and Simon claimed the lord's own seat, settling into it with a smile.
"Shall we continue?"
The dead wailed in their longing for blood.