Maid with Necromancy

“I’ve made a horrible mistake.”

Key fever. Quest madness. Repercussions of that little reveal spread out quicker than rot on day-old leftovers near Old Bones' domain. The Academy was still primarily a local school, filled with legacy students, where the prisoner’s keys were a part of its storied legends. Harmony White, first-year su-primus, was unusual, but, as Flint Steelheart had implied, most people considered her an abandoned byproduct of some world elite faction that didn’t usually send kids to places like this. Toss a gold tooth in with a bunch of plain ones; it will still be gold. Harmony White getting the missing legendary golden prisoner key was something different, a problem that couldn’t be waved off as a curse of nepotistic parentage. [Recall]’s ability to bring up the shocked look on Professor Chastain’s face as she blocked the trap was about the only positive out of the whole episode.

“You're damned right you did. I now owe Rango two whole fruit baskets. He actually bet that it wouldn’t be two whole weeks before something came up and an official inquest counts. If you had told me you’d acquired something so stupid, I would have advised you to keep your mouth shut. My title does have “advisor” in the name here.” Von Trell lectured, annoyed.

The man was already too involved in her life. The murders in the dungeon were nothing, but the key was important? Not like there was a rulebook on what mattered to the great Von Trell. Did he want her to complain to him about the eyes of the dungeon scanning her every time she crossed into the dungeon’s domain?

“Can’t I just complete the quest and be done with it?” Harmony grumbled.

The letter about the inquest had come two days after her impromptu announcement. Chastain probably had rushed to fill out the paperwork, but even then the gears of bureaucracy worked slowly.

“That would be convenient. If only you hadn’t announced your status to the whole damned city. Half the so-called experts who’d shown up for that little alarm stunt, and don’t tell me you weren’t involved, are still here. This is “the guild” office, from “the first dungeon” with “the academy.” All ancient things that have lost their meaning as wealthier cities grew, more prestigious universities were established, more powerful and interesting dungeons appeared. Then you resurrect some dead quest. We’ve got school pride, city pride, guild pride, this kingdom’s pride.”

As she said, a mistake. Was this the mistake that would reveal her forbidden class? How soon could Tun-Knee have the completed vassalship paperwork in her hands? The fox-kin witness had said several months. Could that be expedited? Maekus wasn’t bringing up that issue. He seemed more annoyed that he’d be forced to run point on this mess.

“Can I at least have one of my teammates replace Houte? If I have to go through with this, I’d rather it be someone else.”

“Technically, yes, but no. As a charter scholarship student, much of this mess is under my purview. As your academic advisor, I have some additional responsibilities, but being a lifetime guild member can complicate things. The mayor, school headmaster, and maybe the king will have opinions. Lawyers will be unleashed like hungry dogs. Didn’t you know that I allowed myself to be adopted by five smelly apes to avoid this kind of actual work? I guess we’re lucky this is only a quest in the upper levels of Oorty’s Tomb, and will probably amount to only a shiny trinket or dinky title. I’ll keep your privacy in all of this, but no more stirring up the pot. Do your schoolwork, meet your obligations, and no more shaking things up until we get you past the Tournament of Future Worth?”

All that opening up to her team wasted because she told off a teacher in the most technically correct way, shutting her down. She’d solved a problem; that’s what the eraser profession did, too bad this one spawned several more. Maybe she needed a few more years under her belt managing such things rather than going with the impulses it would drive into her actions. Compulsive cleaning had been a hard impulse to fight early into being a maid.

“I’ll take that under advisement,” Harmony said as she got up.

Maekus Von Trell was already waving her away, as a portal opened, dropping a stack of official-looking papers onto his desk and a furry hand placed a mug of steaming liquid beside it.

Outside, the weather turned colder to match the seasons, and many of the women students were running about wearing long socks that were in the shades approved in the dress code. Bloody expensive is what they were, as they were not covered under uniform expenses. Thankfully, not every girl was wearing them and [Cold Touch] had always provided some amount of immunity to a mild chill. [Beautician] hated to be the odd one out when one wasn’t purposely standing out. The cost of the repairs for her room in Fairfax Manor on top of all of her previous splurges for setting up her research space made funds low again. And if she’d waited, those funds would still be available.

“A trip through the gloom paths, Office Cabot?”

The man grunted unhappily, but in a way that was a yes. He actually had to use skills to keep a crowd back twice before news spread that you could get campus demerits for such behavior. Only a few more days and he’d be gone too; alert bracelets were being made for those accused of the ambush, meaning the presence of the protective guard would no longer be as necessary.

The Understanding Stats teacher had let her know that she could request such a guard be assigned longer, after a guest lecturer cornered Harmony as well to ask about the golden key. Protection or freedom of movement? Too many things waited for unobserving eyes.

As Harmony walked the gloom paths, the necromancer in her conversed with the eraser, hinting that if she razed the city to the ground, then none of these things would be a problem. More idle thoughts around frustrations that had no place in reality. Bea, Marci, Hargreaves, Saccerate, and all the other undead bits, bobs, and boobs were all almost more of a pain in the bones than living people were.

The crowd outside The Association of Amateur Immortalists had those thoughts linger, because people. Enrollment surged, as Milwep didn’t squash any rumors or hints that the organization had been the reason she’d acquired the golden key. And at this point Harmony wanted good old dead Saren Byerly to take all the credit, so people would stop pestering her. The crowd was only the minor issue and annoyance within her new lodgings.

Leaving Cabot at the door, Harmony entered as servants hauled luggage up refurbished, polished metal stairs. All those rust patches and stripped decorative panels were being fixed up, and the wards on the place were tighter than Lord Tyler’s bottom at the idea of missing out on some auction for a rare item. She could no longer drop into the library, but had to walk from her room. Exercise she could handle; no, it was the reason for the luggage that really got under her skin, the arrival of new housemates.

Letting the Immortalists take whatever credit Milwep could dodge into without lying brought in some of that pride that Maekus was groaning about, and so for a hefty donation the leadership council surged to its full sixteen members, plus the hereditary president, and a lot of older men and women who decided the best way to get to know this new keyholder was to move in next door. She’d planned to raise the organization, but this way was too fast and not under her heel.

“Archivist White, how was school?”

“Dame Researcher Rhonda.” Harmony acknowledged her new neighbor with a nod. [Recall] memorized all the new neighbors and council members, so she’d never be unprepared. The soul sight insights into skills helped keep her wary, as half of the members had abilities relating to lie detection or some advanced social awareness. “My advisor and I were merely lamenting how much attention this small quest is getting. Three participants, designed for those just past their first evolution, making it unlikely to have any significant effects on the stability of the dungeon.”

“But what about the completionist theory of dungeon progression?” Rhonda asked.

That was the problem with the new members of the association; they were all focused on the dungeon, and because of that, Harmony’s new keyholder status. But the wife of a wealthy industrialist needed a hobby, and she had the bad luck to be the focus of that right now.

Not a dungeon theorist, Harmony picked up enough to know what the woman meant. The idea was that if you completed everything the dungeon had to offer, both hidden and revealed, it would progress. “Perhaps, if you don’t count the fate-sealed tomb at the end of the dungeon as something to unlock?”

“Youth. Spend a year staring at that untouchable block and more years on the research, and you’ll see how dead that path is, unless your little quest shakes that up.”

One of the things that social consequences forced upon you was a need to understand new boring topics to have conversations without appearing ignorant. Dungeon stuff would be added to the list. For example, the amount of useless information Harmony had learned about what plants grew best in Hazeldown or grew slowest in Naewauld from serving drinks at Lady Coodly’s garden parties could fill a new textbook for Threnody. [Recall] budged in her soul to make an itch that she should do just that, as practice.

“Perhaps. That’s one reason why I want to help restore Saren Byerly’s journal; his insights have been insightful on my journey so far, and were one of the reasons why I accepted the archivist position.”

“Steward Bellwether talks about your efforts with glowing praise, but we have money now for experts. I understand youth need challenges to advance, but to risk such an item. Maybe after some more conversations.”

That was the other step back. You couldn’t swell the ruling body with a bunch of opinionated bags of money without having them get in your way. The book had always been a curiosity and came with the nostalgia of simpler times when she’d repaired Tyler’s collection; but now it felt like a challenge. One that needed to be completed. This all would count as an obligation to fulfill for The Academy and her position as archivist.

“I’ll look forward to sharing more words; after all, I want to be a pleasant and sociable neighbor. And the others are moving in soon. I look forward to the dinner conversation where we can talk about the future of the Association. But for now, study and rest call to me.” Harmony answered with a soft hint of authority.

“Rest well, keyholder.” Rhonda finished..

Harmony made her way to her bed and surrounded herself with the quiet of [Final Silence] before she screamed into a pillow about how much she’d screwed up.

“Greep?” Hyacinth asked,

“Yes, I feel better. I just need to adjust my plans some, and maybe outline a book on plants to scratch an itch.”

“Gweh.” Hyacinth made a disgusted face.

“No, I’m not going to force you to eat any, you bloody carnivore. I just need a distraction for a little bit, and then some new plans. My old one for conquering The Association of Amateur Immoralists will no longer work, so it is time to make a new one.”

Hyacinth wasn’t exactly disapproving through [Familiar Bond]; there was acknowledgement that this represented a part of her royal nature and authority, but they both knew this was because, with all the excitement stirred up from her little leak, the new more sensitive neighbors, the school security officer outside, and inability to burn off steam that this was really the result of a bit of cabin fever. He had his own issues, as the fresh application of wards and new residence had scared all the vermin to hunt away and made shadow travel impossible inside Fairfax Manor.

“Gwip.” He squeaked.

“Fine, I won’t go too crazy. Go hunt up your meal, but remember, no pets.”