Maid with Necromancy

Chapter Five

The professional mask on the woman manning the desk was a picture of obedience and pleasantness. Her response included a slight hesitation before leaving to check with the guild master. Too perfect, and the eyes gave her away. That quick dart between Harmony and Adric. Social skills could do a lot for someone, but they didn't lock your eyes in place. As Harmony's mother would tell her, "Anyone can activate a skill, it took an artist to make it come across earnestly."

The return was prompt so this wasn't about delaying her again, “It looks like he has some time available. I’ll take you to him.”

"Good," Harmony responded, even if she was suspicious.

Harmony and Prince Adric followed, and in a clearly timed move, the staff member looked back and froze. Her finger raised up pointing at the prince. “It can’t come with you.”

“I’m a member of the guild. I have a right to accompany a fellow member to any meeting with their permission, appendix three, third paragraph.” Adric snapped back.

“Your name was stricken from the records when you were confirmed dead, requiring proof of life for reinstatement to them. Additionally, the account paying for your monthly membership has ceased supplying funds, enough that you’re in arrears and your membership has been suspended. Non-members are banned from proceeding further, you’ll have to wait. Also, pets are not allowed further into the building without a leash.”

Who put blood in her drink? Going in without an escort wasn’t acceptable, nor was going alone. Adric was proud to be her pet, as demeaning a tone as the woman made that bit to be, she’d clearly only used it to try to add insult to injury. But it was good enough for Harmony.

[Manipulate Dead] sharpened and lengthened her thumbnail to make a wicked razor. Clothing was mostly dead fibers, and she could lean on [Dust] as worn cloth often ended up in those piles. The prince had come in a loose blue silk shirt and tight leather pants. The treated leather would resist her skills more than the shirt, so she walked up and took off Adric’s sleeves, not like the man would complain about showing off his muscular arms. [Mend] let her treat the edges so it wouldn’t be ragged.

Material in hand, she worked to turn the blue silk into a long flat ribbon. Wrapped one end around the prince’s neck, sealing it with [Mend], and stepped back with the other end in her hand. “He’s leashed now. Happy?”

No skill could mask the venom in the woman's glare, and she'd blown her's earlier. Trapped by her reading of the rules, a reluctant grunt of acceptance was returned and the woman started moving again.

Adric preened at the workaround. Harmony had to jerk the leash a few times to get the man to move.

Behind the booths, the bowels of the guild worked away. A mass of bureaucracy, desks filled with paperwork. Bins filled with rewards pulled from the dungeon being sorted, from ghost laces to necrotic cores. Teams of crafters worked at a table filled with practice weapons and dummies.

The pair were led past it all to the back to a simple door. Unhappily their guide opened the door and Harmony with her pet stepped through.

Hemlock’s office was sparse. Forest green walls. A desk of dark wood with two matching chairs. One facing the desk and the one behind it that held the guild master. A hand-tall crystal pyramid sat on the desk as the only object in the room. The minimalist nature was designed to draw all attention to the man at the desk. His plain white clothing is the lone bit of brightness in the room.

"Lady White. I was expecting the need to hunt you down. And you've accepted the membership. I'm honored."

Harmony fought her inclination to curtsy at how well he commanded the room. Ingrained professional training rearing its head that was thankfully not a compulsion. How he'd treated her when they first met hadn't been forgotten even if he had been banished to Old Bones's depths on her whim. That had been his fault too.

"Negotiator, I wouldn’t be so lax as to not check in on the results of your labor. "

"Challenger, I've negotiated the best trial available for you, a unique opportunity to grow you, the guild, and Hazeldown. A title competition. "

"A what?"

"Sometimes I forget that this kingdom is so backwater. Titles are special acknowledgments bestowed by powers. They are generally desirable. Dozens of people drown each year trying to get water-touched by swimming the Aquamarine Expanse without skills every year. That one gives limited water breathing. What I negotiated will have every person wish they hadn’t leveled up after evolution."

Harmony wanted to know how this deal would affect her plans. "What exactly did you negotiate?"

"You are to open the gates and compete in the first annual Ascendant Games. Your participation is mandatory. Twenty-five competitors, all level twenty-five, newly evolved, vying for five titles. The competitors can be supported by four bonded, within five levels of them. Can’t have tamers without their pets.”

Harmony saw his eyes briefly flicker to the collared Adric. Perhaps the man had some plans related to him. Most important in the information was that she was still useful to open this competition. That should buy some time, and she’d need to evolve first, as if that wasn’t top of her priority list. Everything else was useless, games, titles, and competition. She needed to get herself under control and then deal with whatever the consequences of making Adric her undead pet was. Nothing Hemlock had to say was important outside of that.

“Invites will be premium, Haz’el Ri chose some odd ones out of amusement, but most will be fought after in all the kingdoms.”

[High Kick] urged her to boot the man. Invites didn’t matter. She reigned that in, but another monster took over. “When- is- it?” She asked in a tone so cold she could taste the frost on her lips.

“The peak of summer. forty days.”

“Then I will be back in forty days, evolved and ready to open the games.” With all the synergized [Style and Grace] and [Poise and Bearing] she could, Harmony turned around and moved to leave, barely holding herself together, hoping she projected the strength she’d need to do this.

"We expect nothing less, Challenger." Hemlock's words chased her out of the room.