There was no romance in the life of a baron's heir.
A tiny rural territory so remote, you'd doubt anyone at the capital even knew it existed.
Under a spotless blue sky, the windmills at the mill spun vigorously, and cows and goats grazed lazily across the endless meadows.
Thud. Thud.
From the nearby forest came the sounds of trees being chopped down. Loud laughter echoed through the trees — Robert, the village jokester, had probably cracked another joke.
Life here was the very definition of peaceful, slow living.
Still, Simon was fairly content with his life in this little estate.
"Simon, tell me: what do you think is the most important virtue for a lord to have?"
While Simon was lost in thought, his father, Richard, walking alongside him, suddenly asked.
Caught off-guard, Simon hurried to gather his thoughts.
"Umm… I guess… tolerance?"
Richard smiled warmly.
"Not a bad answer."
"So what's the right answer, then?"
Richard slowly raised his hand to his chest.
"A burning heart."
Simon blinked, confused.
"...Huh?"
"Just as trees change their leaves with the seasons, the virtues a lord needs change depending on the times," Richard said, gently ruffling Simon's hair.
"A lord must be able to act as a friend, a parent, or even a villain. But if he treats his people with a burning heart, he will always have the strength to show them his true sincerity. That's the real bond between ruler and subject."
"My lord!"
Simon and Richard turned to look.
Several burly men were hauling a huge log over their shoulders, and judging by their strained faces, they weren't having an easy time of it.
"Sorry to interrupt your walk, sir! But if it's not too much trouble, could you help us out with… that?"
"Of course, Charles."
Simon tensed slightly and glanced at his father.
Richard Polentia might have been an ordinary rural lord — except for one very special trait.
"Step back, Simon."
Closing his eyes, Richard quietly chanted a few words, then opened his hand. A dark shimmer rose into the air, forming a glowing magic circle.
Simon watched warily as the spell activated, rustling the trees and grass all around.
Here it comes!
The ground trembled and turned into a black swamp. Pale arms burst from the muck, reaching desperately toward the sky.
Those arms were made entirely of bone, with no flesh at all.
Undead.
Creatures driven by blind hostility toward the living.
But here, in this territory, something very different happened.
Clatter! Clatter!
The skeletons rose to their feet — and hurried over to help the men lift the log.
"Thanks so much, my lord!"
Far from fearing the undead, the villagers smiled brightly, relieved to have their help.
"Keep up the good work."
Yes, that was right.
Simon's father was a Necromancer.
Necromancers had ruled half the continent for a long time now.
It all started with the Talhern Empire.
When the Emperor of Talhern sent a massive army of 50,000 men to the necromancers' stronghold at Kizen to break their influence, Kizen responded by sending just ten necromancers.
Only ten.
That led to the legendary "March of the Dead."
The entire imperial army turned around halfway — and returned to the capital.
As undead.
The Talhern capital was utterly devastated. The Emperor was forced to surrender to Kizen.
From that day forward, the imperial throne was occupied not by a living emperor — but by his rotting corpse, animated like a grotesque puppet.
The court officials bowed to a corpse, and millions of citizens were ruled by a decaying body for thirty long years.
That was how the world first truly understood the terror and power of necromancy.
Since then, Necromancers had gradually expanded their influence until they dominated half the continent. The other half belonged to their only true rivals: the Priests.
Decades had passed since the bloody Hundred Years' War between the two factions.
Now, the continent enjoyed a fragile, uneasy peace.
But that had little to do with a tiny place like Simon's home.
In the territory of Reshill, the biggest events of recent memory were:— Charles's cow finally giving birth to two healthy calves, and— Carlon slipping on a wet floor and needing three stitches on his forehead.
Chuckling to himself, Simon arrived at the manor.
Well — "manor" was generous. The villagers called it that out of respect, but it was just a regular wooden house.
Even the poorest lords usually built at least a modest stone keep. By comparison, Richard Polentia was downright humble.
Creak.
"Mom, I'm home."
Simon stepped inside, greeted by the cozy scent of wood and the warm crackle of the fireplace.
"Simon! You're back!"
His mother, Anna Polentia, poked her head out of the kitchen, apron and all. Her hair was a lovely shade of silvery white.
"I just helped out with the logging today," Simon said.
"Did you eat?"
"…Mom, we had lunch together like two hours ago."
"There's some fresh bread I just baked. Put some jam on it and have a snack!"
Honestly, it was like she was possessed by the spirit of a mother who'd died regretting she hadn't fed her son enough. Anna was obsessed with making sure everyone around her was well-fed.
Simon pretended not to hear and instead pointed at a tray on the table.
"Mom, what's this?"
"It's water infused with Rehak mushrooms."
Rehak mushrooms — common in the southern mountains — were poisonous. Even soaking them in water released oily green toxins.
Eating one raw could mean a week of vomiting and diarrhea.But in Anna's hands, it was a different story.
She rolled up her sleeves and placed her hand over the water.
Hummmmm.
"Wow!"
Simon gasped.
A gentle white glow radiated from Anna's hand. As it touched the water, the toxins disappeared like vanishing ink, leaving only the mushroom's nutrients behind.
The pure white aura — called "divine power" — was the unmistakable mark of a Priest.
That's right.
Simon had been born from a Necromancer father and a Priest mother.
How exactly that happened, he had no idea.All he knew was that they had a love story straight out of a fairy tale — and he was the result.
"Simon!"
Anna's voice floated from the kitchen.
"I baked an apple pie! Come and eat!"
"…Alright, alright."
Another ordinary day passed.Simon, tired from work, flopped onto his bed.
Reshill was quiet today — and it would be quiet tomorrow.
Simon was certain this peaceful life would continue forever.
But—
Flap!
Change was already on its way.
A letter flew through the open window and slapped him right in the face.
"Gah!"
Simon groaned and pulled it off.
"Hello."
A soft, unfamiliar voice made Simon blink.
At the window, bathed in silver moonlight, sat a girl.
She had stunning silver hair that cascaded down to her legs, and an otherworldly, fairy-tale aura.
"It's time," she said, her voice as sweet as honey.
Simon, dazed, quietly pulled his blanket over his head.
"Don't pretend you didn't see me!"
The girl pouted and stomped over.
"You saw me! Get up already!"
Grumbling, Simon reluctantly pushed the blanket off and sat up.
"…Who are you? Did you get lost? Where's my mom?"
The girl sighed and then smiled serenely, her hair glowing even more brilliantly under the moonlight.
"I'm here for you, Simon Polentia."
Simon's eyes widened.
She knew his name.
"...Me? Why?"
"Read the letter."
Her voice was oddly solemn for someone who looked so young.
Simon carefully opened the envelope. Inside was a neatly folded, official-looking document.
Bam!
"Simon!"
"Simon! Was that noise from your room?"
His parents burst in — and froze when they saw the girl.
"Ah…!"
"Lady Nephthys!"
It was clear they already knew her.
Beaming, the girl waved cheerfully.
"Long time no see, Richard, Anna!"
The three of them started chatting excitedly, while Simon stood there feeling completely left out.
His father looked like an excited boy, and his mother was rushing to prepare food.
"Simon, show your manners properly," Richard said."You're in the presence of Lady Nephthys Arkbold."
Wait a minute.
That name sounded very familiar.
Nephthys Arkbold.
Nephthys Arkbold…
No way.
The Nephthys Arkbold of Kizen?!
The supreme ruler of all necromancers.
The mastermind behind the Talhern incident, who turned an emperor into a walking corpse.
The Witch of Eternal Death, said to have lived for over 300 years.
And that's… her?!
Simon, hands trembling, looked down at the letter.
"I formally invite you, Simon Polentia."
The girl's sweet, almost musical voice echoed by his ear.
[Kizen Admission Letter — Simon Polentia]
"Come to Kizen."
— End of Chapter 1—