“The little fellow looked hungry,” Erina replied. “And he has such an adorable smile.”
“I’d say his smile is more toothy than adorable, but I’m more curious about why you’re not scared of him. He’s a dragon.”
“He most certainly is. However, I doubt you would bring him to an interview if he weren’t safe to be around. Besides, he is a resident of this castle, is he not? What sort of maid would I be if I could not even prepare him a simple meal?”
“Right.” Timmy and the others exchanged glances. This was… weird. “So… why do you want to work here?”
Erina’s smile shifted into a look of unshakeable determination. “Lord Bolton, my mother was a maid. She served the previous head of the Council. My grandmother was a maid too. She served the Supreme Cleric of her day. All of the women in my family have served as maids, and all of them have served with utmost distinction. They have served through wars, famines, plagues, and countless disasters without ever faltering in their duty. When the Empire attempted to retake Everton shortly after we declared our independence, one of my ancestors was right there on the frontlines, making tea, scones, and toast for the First Council.”
“I thought you looked familiar,” Amanda murmured.
“I am also a firm believer in each generation hoping to outdo their predecessors. As illustrious as my ancestors have been, none of them ever served a Grand Necromancer, to say nothing of your other esteemed guests. Why, you have an ancient vampire, an elf of extraordinary power, a precocious apprentice, a young dragon, and from what I’ve heard, a bureaucrat of some renown and a peerless swordsman. I have been raised to be the greatest maid of my generation, Lord Bolton. Working for you will allow me to prove it.”
“You sound kind of fanatical about being a maid,” Timmy said.
“I suppose I do,” Erina replied. “But being a maid is like any other occupation. Being the best requires more than mere talent. You must also work harder than everyone else.” Timmy nodded thoughtfully. She had a point. He’d seen many talented necromancers fail to achieve their full potential due to laziness. True greatness required talent and hard work. “I have trained extensively in all of the duties that a maid might be called upon to perform. If you require any assistance whatsoever in cooking, cleaning, entertaining, gardening, sewing, or writing, then you may rest assured that I can do whatever needs doing.”
Avraniel rolled her eyes. “You talk too much. If you’re really as good as you say you are, then you’ll be able to give Spot a bath and clean his teeth before that steak there is done cooking.”
Erina looked from Avraniel to Timmy. “Lord Bolton, should I consider that an order?”
Timmy had a feeling that Avraniel was just trying to get out of giving Spot a bath and cleaning his teeth since it was her turn, but he was also curious to see if Erina could pull it off. Beside him, Amanda gave a small nod. If anyone could appreciate a truly skilled maid, she could. “Give it a try.”
Precisely fifteen minutes and thirty-two seconds later, Spot was so clean that Timmy could see his reflection in the dragon’s scales. Spot preened, admiring himself in a mirror that Erina had positioned in precisely the right way for the dragon to use. She hadn’t done a bad job of cleaning his teeth either although Timmy could do better.
“I apologise for the state of his teeth, Lord Bolton.” Erina bowed. “I am not especially familiar with draconic dentistry, and I’m afraid I lack both the appropriate tools and the physical strength to clean them to the highest possible standard.”
“No, you did fine.” Timmy could practically see the gears turning in Avraniel’s head. The second they hired Erina, the elf would undoubtedly foist all of her teeth-cleaning duties onto her, at least, the ones she hadn’t already foisted onto Timmy. “As long as Amanda approves, I’d say you’re hired.”
Amanda got to her feet and gave Erina a formal bow. “Erina, I knew your ancestor. She was truly a maid amongst maids. I can see you are much the same.”
Erina’s eyes widened, and she replied with a deep, deep bow. “You honour me, my lady! It would be my greatest joy to serve you and Lord Bolton.”
“Okay.” Timmy sniffed the air. “It smells like your steak is just about done. Do you think I could have some?”
Erina opened her mouth to reply, but Spot’s snarl gave Timmy his answer. Incredibly clean or not, Spot still wasn’t about to share something that smelled so delicious if he could help it.
* * *
Amanda watched her newly acquired maids redecorate her part of the castle with quiet satisfaction. They were an unusual group, but she was sure they would handle their duties with admirable aplomb. Indeed, with Erina there to ensure that the appropriate standards were adhered to, she had no doubts about their future performance. They’d made a good start too, hanging up the artwork she’d brought in and seeing to the furniture and other details. As an ancient vampire of noble descent, she had an affinity for creature comforts although it had been some time since she’d truly indulged herself.
And speaking of indulging herself…
“Lillian, would you mind terribly coming here for a moment? I am feeling a tad thirsty.”
Uncle Gerald
(Set After Two Necromancers, a Dragon, and a Vampire)
Gerald would have admired the view from atop the zombie wyvern – and it was a very good view – if his stomach hadn’t been in the midst of yet another violent rebellion. Alas, beggars could not be choosers, and bureaucrats could not fly without assistance. Due to his lamentable inability to fly, teleport, or otherwise magically transport himself across vast distances, Gerald really only had three choices: he could borrow a zombie wyvern, he could go on foot, or he could go on horseback.
Flying via zombie wyvern was not only faster than going by foot or by horseback but also much safer. Everton did a better job than most countries of dealing with random bandits and miscreants, but Gerald had always been a stickler when it came to safety. Why risk being on the ground where bandits and other criminals could reach him when he could be soaring through the sky, safely out of reach? Losing his lunch was a lot better than losing his life. If the others had been with him, he wouldn’t be so worried. As crazy as they could be – it said a lot that Timmy was the most normal person in the group – Gerald had absolute confidence in their ability to deal with run-of-the-mill bandits and criminals. If anything, the criminals were the ones who should be worried. Avraniel was always on the lookout for easy money, and bandits were as easy as it got for her. All she needed to do was blast a few of them and pummel the rest, and she could turn them in for whatever reward money was available – after she’d liberated them of any valuables they might have.
Despite doing fairly horrific things to his stomach, travelling via zombie wyvern was also the only way Gerald could get to his destination in time. Had Spot been larger, Gerald would have been perfectly happy asking the dragon to take him. The two of them got along reasonably well, and Spot could be relied upon to incinerate or eat anyone and anything that threatened them. Unfortunately, the dragon still had a lot of growing left to do before he could comfortably carry people on his back. Based on his current rate of growth, Spot would need at least a few more years, and Gerald needed to travel now.
His stepsister had sent him a message through one of his scrying spheres. He had far more of them than any normal mage, but he was loath to sell or trade any of them. It might have been because of his magic, but he had, on more than one occasion, been accused of being a hoarder. It was a tad unfair. Scrying spheres were extremely useful, and having more than one meant that he always had access to spares if bad something happened. Given the life he now led – his regular company included an elf pyromaniac, an ancient vampire, a young dragon, and a pair of necromancers – it couldn’t hurt to have more than one way to call for help in the event of an emergency, and he could also use his scrying spheres to keep an eye on his surroundings. Maybe it was because of how bad he was at fighting, but monsters seemed to love chasing after him
and trying to eat him.
His stepsister had arrived in Everton several days ago, but she would only be spending a few days in one of the major towns near the border before she had to leave again. Since Gerald and the others didn’t have any missions scheduled, at least none major enough to warrant his personal oversight, Gerald had decided to take some time off to meet with his stepsister and her family. Since he was a little paranoid, he had also asked Timmy if he thought the world was going to end any time soon. The Council would not be pleased with Gerald if some nightmarish apocalypse occurred and he wasn’t around to take notes. Timmy had asked Sam, and the protoplasmic horror had asked some of the bigger and scarier things that lived underneath the castle. If the world were going to end some time in the next week or so, it wouldn’t be because of them.
The others had congratulated Gerald about his impending time away from the castle. Timmy had praised him, citing the importance of family even though he wasn’t on speaking terms with his. Being dropped off at a castle full of zombies to become the apprentice of an evil, cruel madman could not have been conducive to a good relationship with his family. Katie also offered her support although, much like Timmy, she too had been abandoned at the castle by her family. Thankfully, Timmy was not an evil, cruel madman. At worst, he was a quirky, occasionally lazy, and mostly benevolent necromancer.
Old Man had echoed Timmy’s comments before pointing out that like Timmy and Katie he might not have been the best person to talk to when it came to family. Apparently, everyone in his family was either dead or thought he was dead. Old Man’s comments had certainly piqued Gerald’s curiosity, but he knew better than to pry more deeply, especially with how Old Man had tipped his hat down ever so slightly to hide his eyes. There was a story there, but it wasn’t a happy one.
Avraniel had urged Gerald to go, shouting something that might have been about the importance of family. It had been hard to tell through all of her cackling. She was probably glad to see him go for a few days, so she could indulge in whatever fire- or explosion-related craziness she wanted to without him noting it down in one of his many, many reports about her behaviour. Amanda had been the only one to offer anything even vaguely resembling actual advice. The ancient vampire had smiled gently and told Gerald to treasure his time with his stepsister and her family. After all, nothing in the world lasted forever, and family was important.
Awkward praise aside, Timmy had also offered concrete assistance. The necromancer had sent Gerald off with a zombie wyvern, some of the rats, and Sam. The protoplasmic horror wasn’t normally able to venture so far from the castle, but he and Timmy had been experimenting, and they were keen to see how some of the heavily modified rituals worked out. The key to the whole thing – and what put Gerald on edge – was that underneath the town where he would be meeting his stepsister was a well of eldritch power not unlike the one underneath the castle, albeit far weaker.
It would certainly explain some of the stranger things he’d heard about Crossington, as well as the alarming tendency for animals of strange and unusual size and appearance to be spotted in the woods near the town. By using heavily modified rituals and by giving Gerald a special talisman, Timmy had said it should be possible for Sam to accompany him, provided he stayed within several miles of Gerald and that they reached Crossington within a day or two, so Sam could draw off its power. If something went wrong, then Sam would simply be dragged back to the castle, leaving Gerald’s protection to the rats and the zombie hydra Timmy had given him to use in case of an emergency.
Thinking about Crossington made Gerald shudder. He’d taken a trip there as a boy, and he would never forget the mass of claws, eyes, and teeth that had chased him after he’d gone to a stream to fetch some water. It would explain a lot of his nightmares although it hadn’t helped that both of his parents thought telling children terrifying stories before bedtime was a good idea. Perhaps he could ask Sam to investigate while they were there. If there was anything like the cake-loving horror lurking around, then Sam should be able to find it and, hopefully, deal with it. After all, according to Timmy, Sam was basically the one in charge of his kind in the castle since the leaders of his species spent most of their time either sleeping or engaged in a titanic cosmic conflict that they were all better off not knowing about.
In any case, Gerald was glad to have Sam with him. There was very little Sam couldn’t deal with. If someone or something tried to kill Gerald, then Sam would most likely consume whoever or whatever was responsible before asking for some cake. Gerald, of course, had brought plenty of cake along with his magic. If push came to shove, he could bribe Sam with cake, and it never hurt to be on Sam’s good side since he also did a fine job of wrangling all of the younger horrors that could occasionally be found drifting through the walls, floors, and ceilings of the lower levels of the castle. They might not look particularly dangerous, but Gerald had seen what they could do. Even a little horror was capable of wiping out a group of bandits, its mere presence enough to drive most of them insane before it put its claws, teeth, and tentacles to work.
It had been three years since Gerald had spoken to his stepsister in person, and she had three little boys – non-identical triplets – who were probably too young to remember him from back then. They’d be six years old now, which was old enough to remember him and have a proper conversation with although he’d never been terribly good with kids. Oh, he and Katie got along well enough, but the precocious necromancer was hardly normal. Hopefully, his stepsister and her family were doing well. Life on the road could be hard for travelling merchants, but she and her husband were both intelligent and cunning. She also had a ruthless streak that Gerald lacked, and she and her husband made an excellent team thanks to their complementary talents and expertise.
Gerald also felt a bit bad about not mentioning his family to the others sooner, but they’d understood. The less people knew about Gerald’s family – and his stepsister already had a different surname due to her marriage – the better. They all had their fair share of enemies, and the recent missions against the Eternal Empire would only make them more. If the Eternal Empire hadn’t already put a bounty on all of their heads, it wouldn’t be long before they did. Timmy and the others were used to that, but Gerald wasn’t. He couldn’t see himself killing his enemies en masse or humiliating them enough into leaving him alone. He also liked to keep any problems he had at work separate from his life outside of work. It had been relatively easy when he’d been a regular bureaucrat. In those days, the worst thing he had to deal with each day was either some incorrect paperwork or a drunken colleague. Now? Spot was living proof that their actions during their missions had real consequences, and he doubted that all of the consequences would be as friendly and helpful as Spot tried to be, or as sophisticated and refined as Amanda was.
Gerald’s stomach did another backflip, and he summoned a paper bag with his magic. He would have asked the zombie wyvern to go slower, but he’d already tried that. It hadn’t helped at all. If anything, going slower only made it worse since it did nothing to reduce the bumpiness of flight while increasing how long they had to spend in the air. At this pace, it would take Gerald most of the day to reach Crossington since he had no intention of pushing the zombie wyvern to its limits. If something went wrong, he couldn’t simply use his magic to repair or empower it the way Timmy or Katie could. He also planned to take regular breaks at safe locations to give his stomach some respite.
Stopping regularly would also give the rats time to update the maps they were making of the area, as well as a chance to bury caches of weapons and other supplies. From what they’d said to him about their past, they had once lost their home, and they had painstakingly recorded the harrowing retreat their clan had been forced to endure before eventually being driven from their homeland. If something truly terrible happened and they were forced to flee the castle, the rats planned to have hidden stockpiles scattered throughout Everton to ease their plight. However, from the grim look of
determination on their faces as they buried the supplies and concealed them with magic, Gerald had a feeling that their enemies would have to kill every single last one of them before being allowed to set foot inside the castle.
Yet despite the rats’ concerns and his own natural pessimism, Gerald had a hard time believing that anything less than a full Council-backed army with at least two or three Councillors present could take Black Tower Castle given what Timmy could throw at anyone who tried. And if Timmy got desperate enough to awaken one of the things that lived underneath the castle, well, it was better for Gerald’s sanity to not even consider the possibility. His memories of the titanic… thing they’d faced at Lord Taylor’s castle were mercifully scrambled by extreme panic and terror, but what little he’d glimpsed of the entities Sam answered to made him certain they were far more powerful and far more dangerous.
A couple of hours before nightfall, the zombie wyvern reached Crossington. It wasn’t the largest town, but it was in an excellent location. It was built on the intersection of two major roads. There was also ample space around it to set up fairs and markets. During busy periods, like when the harvests had just come in and there was plenty of fresh produce to sell, the town’s population would more than triple as people came from near and far to buy and sell their wares. Fortunately, his stepsister had chosen a quieter time of year to make her return although she would undoubtedly spend at least some of her time in Crossington acquiring goods to sell elsewhere.
A squeak from the rat perched on his shoulder broke Gerald out of his musings. He looked down and then had to bite back a scream. There were a bevy of archers and mages on the walls of the town, and all of them were aiming weaponry and magic at him. It was almost enough to make him reach for another paper bag until he remembered something important: he was riding a zombie wyvern. No wonder the people down there were worried. He’d have been worried too. As quickly as he could, Gerald sent one of the rats down with the necessary paperwork as he ordered the zombie wyvern to maintain a polite – and safe – distance from the town below.
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