The moment Lucian's boot met the doorway, the candles were lit and he took in the mortician's quarters for the very first time. The room smelled lived-in: a mixture of cinnamon, incense, and parchment.
There were books and notes on the floor, the table, and even two on the nightstand. It felt like someone had left in the middle of something and meant to return.
Well…if it looked like a hotel room, I'd have to leave. He felt comforted by the chaos.
It reminded him of his bedroom: a complete mess to everyone else, but the owner knew where everything was. He stepped further inside and took a book off of a worn bookshelf. It was full of symbols and letters that made no sense to him, and Lucian frowned.
I can understand and talk to them just fine. Why can't I read this? Instead of asking about the language, Lucian's mouth decided to ask another question altogether. The book could wait—maybe it was the kind of book that unscrambled itself if he got stronger.
"Do the previous owners still visit?" It was an undead kingdom, after all. If skeletons and corpses refused to stay dead, ghosts and other beings could too.
"No. Morticians have a special agreement with Death here. When they complete their service, they can choose to be embalmed by the last mortician they replaced." At that, Lucian looked confused.
"What about the last mortician, Your Highness?" She had said that there hadn't been one in a century. Her reaction was less frightening than it had been in the mausoleum, but it still unnerved him.
Instantly, like a switch flipped inside of the Queen, her mood shifted. Her left and right sides were visibly displeased. Her pale blue eye and a deep blue fire flashed and her mouth was set into a deep frown.
He really wished he'd just asked about Atraeum's language.
"Not now." she said, clearly trying to keep her composure. "You may be the newest mortician, but you are still a stranger to me." Lucian bowed his head, shame coloring his cheeks a bright pink. "Sorry. That was out of line."
He had been summoned to solve a problem for the Queen of Atraeum. Lucian felt the same annoyance whenever a new coworker asked him personal questions while they were in the funeral home.
His brain helpfully reminded him of the things he used to say: We're here to do a job. The small talk can wait. You can ask me about my hobbies after you master setting the features.
Lucian shook his head, hoping to get away from that train of thought. He just needed to focus on work…whatever that looked like now. The Queen didn't respond right away. When she did, her voice considerably softened.
"You'll learn. Some things don't need to be asked."
It was at this moment when the Queen's skeletal butler stood between them, his empty eye sockets glancing at a silver pocketwatch. "Might I suggest retiring for the evening, Your Majesty? It's been a long day." Rosa folded her hands, prepared to follow the butler's lead.
Queen Marguerite's gloved hand smoothened her veil. "Yes, Kingsley," she said absently. "I suppose you're right." As she turned to leave, she glanced at him over her shoulder. "The Grimoire will reveal itself when it's ready. Or when you decide you are."
Rosa closed the door behind them and Lucian heard their footsteps growing fainter.
+
Now that he was alone, Lucian was aware of just how tired he was. Even in another world, socializing still sucked. He sighed and slowly moved the various papers that littered the left side of the bed and lay down.
Then the tiredness of the day came in full force. He hadn't bothered to find a place for the walking cane, either. It just lay below his limp arm. As he stared up at the crystal chandelier, Lucian said out loud, "so how do I summon a magic death book?"
No magical lights glowed or scary ghosts called out to him. Just more silence and the gentle rustling of paper next to an open window.
He rolled over, sat on the edge of the bed, and let his walking cane rest against the thick bedframe. Lucian took a deep breath and gathered his thoughts.
+
The last mortician had meticulously kept notes and drawings of any knowledge he could find. That's what it felt like, at least, from what he could see. But all organized chaos has a center point.
Mine used to be my bed--absolutely everything I needed had to be within reach, or I'd give up and try again tomorrow. The pattern followed him from school and to the workplace. The senior funeral director had been impressed.
"You insist everything must be perfect during an embalming. Why is your desk such a mess?" Lucian had laughed back then and said simply, "You weren't meant to know just how hard it was to maintain that perfection, ma'am. As long as I could remember...I've only been able to keep one area completely clean."
Instinctively, his blue eyes scanned the room, looking for the only clean spot. It certainly wasn't the floor. Not the desk...not the chairs, either. And then he saw the state of the nightstand on the right: The drawer was perfectly shut, and the surface didn't even have a thin layer of dust over it.
On the nightstand was a blue cloth, a shiny silver coin, and a candle. "There's your center point." He reached over and slowly rested his hand on top of the drawer. Before he attempted to pull it open, Lucian felt resistance, like it was glued shut.
Like he'd hurt himself if he tried to force it open. Instead, he asked directly: Are you in here?
A soft chime rang in his head.
[SYSTEM NOTICE – DEATH GRIMOIRE ONLINE]
User: Lucian Bowcott
Class: Apprentice Mortician
Rank: Cadaver
Title Unlocked: Atraeum's Mortician [Unclaimed]
Skill Seed Activated: Grimoire Interface
The Grimoire has recognized you.
Note: Claim this title to fully understand Atraeum's language and customs.
Warning: Once accepted, you must fulfill your duty to the end. Do you accept?
There were two buttons labeled Yes and No in front of him. Lucian tapped on 'Yes' and the window flashed a brief 'Thank you' before it disappeared.
And just like that, the drawer slid open. Inside, nestled in black silk, was a book that looked like it had been waiting for a long time.
It wasn't decorated with gold and silver, and it didn't look like a plain leather notebook either. Instead, it looked just right to him.
Lucian's Grimoire was bound in dark gray leather. Silver clasps shaped like toe tags held it closed, with the number 13 etched on both ends.
His favorite number.
Lucian picked it up and marveled at how warm it was to the touch, like someone had just handed it to him. He turned it to the first page and it read:
[SYSTEM NOTICE - DEATH GRIMOIRE (TRUE FORM) UNLOCKED]
User: Lucian Bowcott
Class: Apprentice
Mortician Rank: Cadaver
Title: Atraeum's Mortician
Skill Seed Activated: Grimoire Interface
Next Objective: Await Assignment from Queen Marguerite
He couldn't help laughing at the book. "You were with me the whole time?" Just his luck--he possessed a system with a sense of humor.
Typical.