Necromancy Isn't Necessarily Evil

James thought it was a good day. He'd gotten his chores done and had a good breakfast, the church sermon was surprisingly quick today as well. Now he was wandering through the forest trying to find that one large tree he'd seen last week. There wasn't much for a bookish boy to do in a town with few books, not that there was any reason for there to be books outside the church in Greenmoor.

Greenmoor was a small town on the edge of the empire. It was settled roughly 100 years ago or so said the books he could snag from around town, barely filled with the necessities to run a village. James picked up a stick and waved it around like a wand, pretending to cast fireballs and raise ice walls. He wandered through the woods, oblivious to the shrinking paths and darkening trails, the growing breeze blowing against the direction of the normal wind. Maybe he would have noticed all the branches and leaves leaning towards one central tree had he not been lost in a world of his own. Where the wind blew a great oak stood, its old and withered bark bore the marks of hundreds of storms and the signs of damage yet it was as healthy as any oak in the forest. James stumbled down this path and came upon the 'large' tree he had seen last week. In the unseen background, ether swirled traveling up, around, and into the tree, flowing deep into the earthen roots and airy leaves and branches. The old oak stirred as a magical line was crossed and began to breathe in the new source of untapped mana.

James staggered as he felt something deep within himself begin to draw out of him, it felt as if an integral part of himself grew shapeless and distorted. The oak kept breathing in the refreshing source of mana, far more potent than the wild and free ether it used to consume. He fell to his knees as memories integral to him began to fade and dissipate, his mother's smile or his older brother Caden's promise to teach him magic, into a fog rapidly clouding his mind. The tree gorged itself and fed its new potent mana into the core of its being. As seconds passed and James' memories were scrambled, a threshold was finally reached. The mana flowed through old earthenware laden with runic scripts and arcane sigils, mana condensed in these lines and eventually SNAPPED, mana and ether blew out of the core of the tree, destroying it. James was blown backward and into a tree, knocked unconscious, and rendered unable to view a sight not seen for 300 years. First, an ethereal cyan ball hanging in the air was shaped and condensed into the figure of a thin man. Then bones formed out of the dense configuration of mana floated in the ethereal substance. Next flesh, muscles, and ligaments sprouted out of the bones, connecting and obscuring the figure. Finally, a layer of skin wrapped around the figure before the spell ended and dropped the figure to the ground.

For the first time in over 300 years Alexander von Harring breathed, and it was a horrible thing. Alexander, sprawled on the ground, breathed in like a choking man and rolled scratching at his throat. Whole minutes passed as he got control over his breathing, going from choking to rattling to panting and stopping on a final slow breath to set him back to normal. When normal human functions returned to him did he finally sit up, finding himself in an unfamiliar clearing with a tree blasted open from the inside out and a young man with his back against a tree. Realizing he was in the nude he stood up on shaking legs and wandered over. Reaching in, he weaved his hands past the pottery shards, carefully extracting a small nondescript box. Inside sat a gold embroidered book, a set of robes and other clothes, and a small bag filled with vials of liquids and powders.

Alexander let out a relieved sigh at the sight of his regents and grimoire surviving, only then noticing the boy sprawled at the base of a tree. What fool boy wanders so far into the wilderness? Where are his parents? It was a curious scenario, and he was eager to learn more about this strange predicament. Crouching next to the boy he quickly formed and released a spell formula to see the state of the boy.

This initial examination revealed a curious piece of information, though other than a bonk on the noggin he was perfectly fine and healthy. What was concerning was a major level of soul unbinding, it reminded him of when Cassandra was a pupil and would attempt to perform far too complex spells and rituals... Cassandra. He paused, letting the past day properly sink in, before getting back to work.

Drawing on years of experience he quickly flipped through his pouch and pulled out a set of vials. Carefully he tapped out powders mixing them in the palm of his hand before adding a red liquid binding agent that turned it into basic paint. Whilst he would never use this in any advanced or official rune markings, he would use it for emergencies. Using the paint to form a circle on the boy's forehead that then led into a line stemming from the bottom of the circle to the tip of his nose. This line was followed by two others from the center of the circle that went to the blonde sideburns on the boy's head.

Finished forming the basic runic focus he gestured with one clean hand, each finger independently forming softly glowing lines in the air. Once finished he released a mental hold he'd been maintaining to release the formula. The runes floating in the air and the focus on his head burned with an ephemeral green light, Alexander witnessed a mix of light green and red energies coalesce and stream back into the boy through the runes and into the focus. Alexander waited for a moment... then a moment more... then waited even longer. If I had my watch I'd be tapping it right around now... oh come on boy, who gets knocked out for this long by simple soul unbinding?

Abruptly the boy sat up, his gasping breaths similar to Alexanders only a few minutes ago. His wild eyes traced around the clearing before settling on Alexander, focusing a bit before widening in shock. He followed the boy's gaze to see his hand covered in dripping dirty red paint. He gazed back at the boy and looked him in the eyes, it was at that moment that the boy freaked out and tried to scramble away from Alexander. This, unfortunately, led him to push his back as close to the tree as the boy could, "PLEASE DON'T KILL ME".

The boy's words pierced his ears, giving him a one-way ticket to a headache. It took all of his will not to clamp his hand around the fool boy's mouth to shut up the screaming child. He mustered his very rusty diplomatic skills and tried to soothe him.

"Ack! Child shut that fool mouth of yours before I do it for you!" Alexander had never really had much diplomatic skill. Even with the not-so-friendly introduction, the boy clamped his mouth shut.

Sighing he rubbed his temples before continuing, "Right young man, thank you, I don't think I've ever heard someone scream so loud from a failed spell." the headache was quite bad, he dropped his voice to a low mumble, "and much less from a boy in no pain and a recently fixed up soul."

"Y-you aren't going to hurt me?" the boy's voice was still quivering but at least his screaming had stopped so Alexander considered that a win.

"No boy so how about we start off on the right foot this time eh?", he rose and extended his hand, not the paint-covered one. The boy reluctantly grabbed his hand and was yanked up, Alexander was surprised about how hard it was to pull up what was at max a 14-year-old boy, An issue for later research. "let's start with names then, mine's..." Alexander realized it may be best not to use his real name for a bit, paladins had the annoying habit of being far too long-lived. "Red..." it was an old alias and one he was quite fond of, "Mister Red to you but that's neither here nor there".

"Mine's Jason, Mr. Red." Smart kid, most students forget the mister. "I don't think I saw you around town earlier sir? What are you doing out here, sir?" Maybe a little too smart.

"right bo... Jason..." he took a moment to properly enunciate the name and commit it to memory, "I had the misfortune of having to use experimental equipment. That sent me from my home to the wilderness past the edge of the Empire." at the mention of the location he suddenly remembered that no child should be this far out in the wilds. "say boy what are doing this far from civilization?"

At this, he received a confused look, "Umm Mr. Red... my village is an hour or so walk away?" Alexander himself was mightily confused, in his first proper century - anything under a century is still baby years and hardly counts - he had the unfortunate experience of criminals extorting him for magical secrets in exchange for his phylactery. Although those men were long since turned to ash and dust, he had learned his lesson and mounted multiple expeditions to secretly hide phylactery bunkers deep in the wilds with necessary supplies to get home. The fact that he had buried them so far that expansion plans didn't include them even within the next century after he was supposed to revive was greatly concerning.

Alexander's voice grew as cold and hard as iron, "Boy, what year is it?"

Jason grew further confused but answered regardless, "It's 2073 A.A. Mr. Red"

"boy forget the church calendar, give me the actual imperial calendar." good lord, only church serfs, and zealots use the church's calendar, it was off by close to 350 years!

Jason affixed him a strange look, "Sir that is the Imperial calendar?"

At this horrifying proclamation, Alexander choked on his spit...