“Goodness gracious, what in the dozens of wild geese happened to you?”

  After giving is elderly guest a massage, Abram went to sleep with his wife. The breakfast was already served, when Lady Valeria descended down the log stairs leading to the second floor.

  The outward change in overall appearance was not as drastic as the first time if one only looked at her face, as she now looked in her early sixties, the massage seemingly having reversed her aging process a few years this time, instead of more than a decade.

  But once the older woman straightened out her back, both Flora, and Abram couldn’t help but stare.

  Lady Valeria touched a ceiling with her hand, not needing to stretch it out too far above her head.

  “It would seem that I am tall again. And I think my frame will once again start filling up with muscle from now on.”

  “What the heck, I thought you were stupidly tall already…” Flora looked at a woman well over foot taller than her own husband, who was always known for his size.

  “Is it really weird for an old woman to shrink with age?”

  “No, but it is weird to be closer in height to a troll, than to an average man.”

  “You’re exaggerating. I’m not all that bigger than Abram here.”

  “First, yes you are. He barely reaches your shoulder now. Second, you do realize that both he and I are exceptionally tall? It was to the point that most men deemed me unattractive, because they had to look up to maintain eye contact.”

  Abram nodded, agreeing with his wife. “Right, and I couldn’t walk into a tavern without some damn midget, no offense to actual midgets, jumping up to punch me in order to convince themselves that they are brave and manly. And failing, of course.”

  Lady Valeria chuckled. “Oh, I know those struggles very well. That being said, I thought you two were average?”

  “And it didn’t seem strange to you that every single bandit from yesterday, as well as mister Franz over there, were shorter than me, let alone Abram?”

  “I simply assumed they were exceptionally short, since they all behaved like their growth was stunted, on all fronts. Especially mister Corpse Pimp, he looks like a classic example of a man who has his head so close to his ass, that the brain mixes with shit. Then again, that expression is entirely metaphorical, and doesn’t reflect the person’s actual, physical height. My bad for assuming, I suppose.”

  “He’s actually above average.”

  “Hmm. Then I must correct myself. The child I am searching for might look like an adult man with a child – like face.”

  “That’s actually good, isn’t it? Easier to find someone who stands out. Also, if he hears about a gigantic, foreign old lady, he might be able to find you himself, no?”

  “That is indeed one good thing about standing out. The other nice side of being unmistakable is that my reputation tends to precede me, and sometimes solves problems for me. Or at least solved, it’s been fifteen years since I retired.”

  “I shudder to think what kind of reputation you’ve had in your youth.”

  “Good enough to make people drop their weapons by introducing myself through a megaphone.”

  “I don’t even know what that is.”

  “A device to help you speak louder.”

  “Oh. I thought it would be something grander. The name sounded promising.”

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  “Speaking of changing the subject.” Flora interjected. “I think it’s high time for you to get going, If you don’t want to get to the city after it’s already gotten dark.”

  “True enough. The day works in my favor. I’ll set out immediately.”

  Abram stood up, and started preparing himself for the trip. He checked the sharpness of his spear, and after he found it satisfactory, he changed the way Franz the necromancer was tied with, and headed to the doors.

  “I love you, be safe.”

  “Love you too.”

  Abram kissed his wife, pulled on the rope tied to his prisoner’s neck, and turned towards the city of Alden, where one of the estates of the Hermann noble family was.

  “Bye, I’ll be back in a couple of days!”

  “Break a leg.” Lady Valeria replied from inside his house. Abram guessed it was just a difference in culture, and not an actual ill wish.

  He and Franz headed in the direction opposite to the City of the Dead.

  Once the house was out of sight, the necromancer scowled.

  “Now, let me go before I fucking hurt you, you hear me?”

  Abram almost jumped.

  “So you can talk, huh?”

  “Don’t test my patience! Now that the monster isn’t here, You know full well I can kill you anytime! Let me go, and I’ll forget about the whole thing.”

  “Did you eat some bravery for breakfast? Or was it stupidity?”

  “I can eat your ass, If you don’t let me go!”

  “I don’t think this expression means what you think it means. And I’ll decline, I don’t swing that way.”

  “You’re really pissing me off now, you know? You should apologize, brat, I am your elder, and I deserve respect.”

  “Just because you smell of elderberries doesn’t mean I need to be polite to a criminal.”

  “I smell of death, and art!”

  “Wow, don’t get too agitated, I don’t want to take care of a bastard with a heart attack.”

  Franz stopped his complaints, and started walking slower.

  “What, stalling for time?”

  “I’m simply tired, you numbskull. Don’t prete….! HUk!” The criminal star of a certain red lights district grabbed his chest with his left hand, and bend down.

  “What is it now?”

  “I think I’m having a heart attack, help me!”

  “Sigh. Alright, whatever.” Abram walked over to his prisoner, and leaned down.

  “Ha!” Franz immediately straightened out, striking the life mage’s chin with his skull, but the blow was dampened by Abram’s right hand, with which he grabbed the necromancer by his hair.

  “Oh, you motherfucker!”

  Franz struck the lower stomach of his opponent, but to no avail. His punch was no match for Abram’s tensed muscle.

  In a struggle to fix his mistake, the criminal grabbed the handle of the knife Abram was wearing on his belt, but before he could stab the taller man, his face was struck with a left elbow of the life magician, who had just managed to recover from the initial blow to his chin.

  “I almost!” Abram shouted, planting his knee is opponent’s stomach.

  “Fucking!” He continued, punishing the necromancer’s spine with his right elbow.

  “Bit my tongue!” Abram finished, making the wanted man fall to the ground , his left arm twisted out of its socket.

  “Stand up. Don’t think I’ll let you rest just because you’re a little hurt. It was proven to me that people are much tougher than I thought previously, and I won’t hesitate to give you a choice.”

  “W-what c-choice?” Franz asked, pain in his voice.

  “Walk it off, or we’ll see if I really am incapable of hurting you as much as Lady Valeria. I can guarantee you that I have observed her methods very carefully, and will do my best to replicate them, even If I’m forced to make such a mess, that you’ll look more ‘artistically’ that those abominations of yours.”

  “What, will you equip me with more eyes?”

  “No, but I can decrease the amount you have right now, as well as make more eye sockets.”

  “We both know that you, a life mage, have no guts to do such a thing.”

  “Really, now?”

  *Thunk!*

  Abram hit the necromancer with the butt of his spear.

  “Geh!”

  Franz folded over, holding his lower stomach.

  “I wonder how many of those your core will withstand before it separates from the membrane? Do you want to find out? After all, you are wanted alive or dead.”

  “If you take just my core, you’ll never be able to prove my identity. You know they can test cores, and distinguish where they came from? I wonder if you can convince them that you didn’t just murder a random decay magician!”

  Abram laughed.

  “Luckily, I already discussed the matter with Lady Valeria. Or unluckily, if we are thinking from your perspective, I suppose. Care to guess what she suggested?”

  The necromancer became wary.

  “What, are you gonna tell me she gave you some way to identify cores more accurately?”

  “Haha! Nope. She told me to just cut off your head as a proof of identity.”

  “You’re shitting me.”

  “What, don’t you believe it is something she would do?”

  “I know she wouldn’t hesitate, but what about you? Aren’t you afraid of desecrating a corpse?”

  “I would be, if it wasn’t your corpse. A man who won’t show respect to the dead doesn’t deserve to be buried himself, do you not agree?”

  Franz looked resigned to his fate.

  “Alright, alright, what the hell. I’ll walk on my own. Not that I’m not heading towards my doom, but I suppose the nobles will want to execute me publicly, so they can’t torture me to death. Getting my head cut off beats my core getting clobbered out of me, I guess. But know this. I will turn into a fucking ghost, and haunt you. And I won’t ever stop, even if you beg for forgiveness.

  “Sure thing. Do that, and we’ll see how much can Flora’s magic improve if she devours a ghost.”