Gerald found the box at once, but refused to use the password that they had set up. It was a major disrespect to Dreiss, and he wanted no part in that. Dreiss was the primary creator of the Necromancers after all. 'Probably not the god to piss off…' Gerald dispelled the Spirits that came from the box with a simple Sorcerer's spell (Fedj) and then unlocked the Wizard's spell with ease. (Asterte) The box opened, and there lay the scroll in the box. He opened it and read it, relishing in the penmanship of his father.
'To the protection of the Non-magi, and for the continual friendship of the Witches, Sorcerers, Druid, Necromancer, Gin, and Wizard; we dedicate this land as a home for all to live in peace. This city, home to the Portal of Ages, shall be a haven for all with peace and prosperity in their hearts. May they find peace, trade, and plenty here, as with their descendents for generation after generation.
'I, Gor son of Gorbash, write this with my own pen, entrusting the leadership of the council to the Davith line, while it lasts, and to the future generations of my kin upon my passing. May they remember, as I have learned, that all races are acceptable before the gods in their own ways before we enter the veil.
'As prince regent, I accept this declaration of citidom provided that the ruling of the city be upon the leadership of a council to be decided by the people, save that there shall always be at least one non-magi upon the council to ensure that their needs are heard. Hereby signed, Zerieth, son of Goria, son of Rekthia.'
The Necromancer smiled reading the words of his father, and the words of the Prince, who would later be King during the great war. (Or what remained of the monarchy after the mass sneak attack of the Wizards)
He remembered his banners flying high in the breeze, back when he had fought in the army, the Zombies coming upon the Wizarding towns, the Ghouls pouring from the cemeteries into the heart of their fortified cities, the Vampires feasting almost to the point of insanity, the Werebeasts howling and receiving their vengeance… But those days were long past. Now he was alone. Or those who survived were so well hidden that he could find no hint of them. 'I truly am alone.' He thought, his mind saddened. He shook it off. 'I've been alone for a long time.'
"Hermina, bring Rory in here."
It was then that Sarah, the Sorceress, burst into the main hall (her face was troubled, and it was obvious that she was looking for him). "There you are!" She exclaimed. "The… skeleton man… his name is Davith." Hermina stayed by her Master, and watched his reaction.
Gerald's heart sank. He had been hoping that Davith would be returning, and that he would be able to help build a peace between the Magi and non-magi… "The Everseeker killed him?"
"Yes. But he has asked that you make use of his body, if you can." The Sorceress nodded to something that was barely on the fringes of what Gerald could see.
"I will make use of it if I can." Gerald promised. "Your body is in poor shape, however, my friend."
"He says that he understands, but even if you make his body into fertilizer for the next year's crops, it'll help him be at peace and pass his trials." The Trials… the final judgements that come after a soul has left this world. Only the Spirits knew what awaited them, though they claimed that all humans, innately, knew it. They were forbidden from sharing that knowledge, calling it 'forbidden' and that humans 'would damn themselves if they propagated it abroad'.
"I will take the most amount of care with your physical body. You truly deserve it my friend."
"He says to 'Call on me whenever you wish as well. At least until my trials are done.' "
"Happily."
At this, the Sorceress looked oddly between the two of them. (The Spirit and the living man) "What does he mean?"
"Would you like to show her, Master Necromancer? Or would you like to simply tell her? I feel that she has earned your trust either way." With that, the Spirit of old man Davith winked into the void, and was gone.
The Necromancer smiled and responded to her questioning gaze. "I've learned a lot of Sorcery as well, Sarah Von Martin." Gerald replied.
"Impossible." The Sorceress stated, confidently. "The gods, themselves, made it impossible."
"Did the Wizards teach you that?" Gerald said with a laugh. "I can't lie, remember?" He then pulled on a little magic. "Come." Immediately his favorite spirit came to him. It was a young woman who had meant a lot to him in life.
"Hello Husband." She cooed, giving him a small ghostly kiss. The Sorceress gasped openly at the woman who appeared, not even see through, at the Necromancer's side. Gerald wished that he could reciprocate the kiss. It had been well over a thousand years since she had departed this world for the veil, but her death still hurt. The fact that he couldn't hold her, or feel her warmth… He shook his head to relieve himself of the bitter sweet memories.
"She… she's your-"
"Yes. May I introduce you, Sarah Von Martin, to my late wife." The Spirit curtsied. "She departed this world a little over a thousand years ago-"
"And he still won't let go of me." The female spirit laughed.
"It's a full bodied spirit…" The sorceress muttered, her eyes wide. "Not even see through..."
Gerald smiled. "What? Can your people not do this anymore? I learned from Master Froudren, and his students shou-"
"THE Master Froudren?!" She shouted, running up to the Necromancer. "By the gods… you have to tell me everything! Was he as awesome as everybody says? Was he truly kind to animals? Was he really the one who killed the greater dragon, because I have my doubts-"
"Hold on!" Gerald laughed. "One question at a time."
"You were married?" Hermina demanded. Gerald jumped, he had almost forgotten that she was there.
"Um… yeah. Haven't I mentioned that?"
"Who's the dead Necromancer?" The Spirit stated, looking over the Vampress with a raised eyebrow. "Are you finally beginning to move on from my death, dear?"
"Hardly." The Vampress muttered under her breath, but the spirit heard it.
"Hardly, huh?" The spiritual woman turned to her living husband. "It's been more than a thousand years! One thousand, three hundred and twenty two to be exact! Move on! Make some Necromancer babies already! By the gods, even a Lych is still better than just sitting on your ass! I just wish that I could have given children to you though…"
"Dear-"
"Don't 'Dear' me. Now get out there and find yourself a willing woman!"
"It's not that simple-"
At this, the spirit popped back and forth, as though having a fake conversation with herself. " 'Hello, I think you're cute. Would you like to go for a drink sometime?' 'Yes! I'd love to!' 'Tonight work for you?' 'Can we do tomorrow night? I have to feed the hens tonight.' 'Sure. When should I pick you up?' 'Maybe just before dusk, would that be alright?'" At this she stopped and looked at her living husband. "That's how it starts."
"It's not how it started with us." Gerald replied with a smile.
The Spirit waved her hand, "Minor trivial details."
"What in the hells is going on here?" Lydia walked in the room from the main doors. She had changed and found something in a Druidess' home, obviously. It was a long, green, dress that flowed as she moved. Gone was the armor, in favor of the soft leafy silks of Lydia's homeland, and Gerald thought, in spite of himself, 'That looks really good on her.' The Sorceress was beside herself, still studying the spiritual Mrs. Gerald. Hermina stood still in shock, both looking at the Spirit (who the Vampress thought looked really pretty), and the man she loved with a disconnect in her brain. Lydia was just confused. True, she knew that the Necromancer could use multiple types of magic (it was one of her questions on her list about how he could), but it was odd to hear the people around him, especially women, discussing a wife, or love at all. The prejudice against Necromancers went deep after all.
It was as though the dam burst and they all began talking at once. Some asking questions, some answering, some getting accusatory, others feeling obviously jealous, more questions, the volume getting higher and higher, intriguing some of the other Vampires who came nearby to watch the whole scene.
It was actually the spiritual wife who managed to interrupt the entire cacophony of sounds that were ringing out with each person attempting to answer each other at once. "ENOUGH! Dear, do you need me for anything?"
"Isn't seeing you enough to call you?" He responded with a shrug.
She blushed a ghostly blush. "Charming and witty as ever. The woman you marry will be a lucky woman. As for the rest of you, you might want to pay attention… there's movement outside of the fortifications, and I don't think it's friendly." With that, there was a poof of dust, and she was gone.
The group looked at each other, and then hurried for the door, all of the Vampires left in the building following behind them.
The doors opened wide and allowed the first of the alarm bells to ring clear in the group's ears…