Chapter 7: Ch. 6 – Excalibur

After returning home from her successful mission, Momo was quickly ushered into the main hall on the shoulders of two necromages. The gold from her purse was flung about like confetti.

“After a mere two days, this initiate has returned to us with more gold than the sanctuary has seen in months,” Valerica boasted, holding Momo up in her arms like they were in the Lion King, and Momo had just inherited the kingdom, “this is a feat no other recruit has managed since the Dark Calamity war.”

The room roared as if they were at a football game. Momo felt like the new Lionel Messi, except she was much smaller. And weaker. And bad at sports.

But apparently very good at impressing people who wore hoods in a room with zero sunlight.

Finally placing her on the ground, Valerica looked at Momo with shining eyes.

“I believe a promotion is in order,” she clapped Momo on the shoulders. Momo nearly went dizzy with the amount of touching; not only because it was Valerica, but also because Valerica’s hands were the temperature of frozen glaciers.

But… promotion? Momo fought off the frostbite creeping on her shoulders. The word ran circles around her head. The only promotion she had received in her six years at Mallmart was from bathroom cleaner to ambulance-caller for pregnant women who went into labor in the maternity section.

It happened more than you’d think.

“You obviously have a talent for customer relations management,” Valerica said, leading Momo through a hallway that broke off from the main corridor.

Momo heavily disagreed, like, heavily, but she remained silent.

They entered a room far more decadent than the rest. In the center of it was a long stone desk, covered in envelopes, parchment paper, inkwells and writing quills. The desk chair behind the table resembled a queen’s throne, with spears of bone jutting out of the back.

Valerica sat at the throne, and the bones—mostly skeletal arms, with hands intact—relaxed to become arm rests. Arm rests made of arms.

This world was completely insane.

“Welcome to my office,” Valerica spread her hands, “my little slice of heaven.”

From behind Valerica, a fountain came to life, blood spurting out of the mouths of sculpted heads. Undead koi fish wriggled about.

“It’s very nice,” Momo complimented earnestly.

“Thank you,” Valerica grinned, her fanged canines showing, “now Momo, I have to admit, your first mission was a bit of a test. You know, something you earthling mortals might call a hazing.”

Momo nodded, very familiar with the concept.

“But you passed with flying colors, my dear. Tell me, how did you convince Mr. Mole to part with his coin? I know it couldn’t have been easy.”

Momo quirked an eyebrow. Had Valerica known he’d resist?

“Oh, um, well…” she weighed telling the truth with lying, but she didn’t put it past Valerica to secretly be a living lie detector. The woman contained multitudes, “really, I just mentioned you. That was all it took.”

Valerica’s grin grew, nearly splitting her face in two.

“Oh, is that so? And how did he react?”

Her eyes were glowing red; two discs of bright hellfire.

Momo squirmed in her seat.

“He—uh, he got very scared,” totally unlike how Momo felt right now, absolutely not similar, “and started panicking. And then he ran to his chest and gave me gold.”

“Oh, splendid. Just splendid.”

“Do you know each other?”

Valerica tapped her red-tipped nails on the table. Wherever they landed, paper burned to a crisp.

“We’re acquainted,” she shrugged, “when the Dark Calamity war waged, he was one of the necromancers that picked the side of the King. A weakling. He thought it would keep him alive, hiding his powers. Didn’t want to risk his hide for the greater cause.”

There was an unnatural bitterness in her tone. Not much seemed to phase Valerica, but she seemed to view his choice as a real betrayal.

“Cause?” Momo squeaked. She was sweating in her seat, but her curiosity was overwhelming.

“It started like all conflicts do—with a simple misunderstanding,” Valerica rolled her eyes, “before the war, the King had an in-house necromancer. All nobility did. When the King’s wife died, the necromancer did what any necromancer worth his salt would do, he revived her.”

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After seeing what revive meant in the context of her new feline friend, Momo felt like she knew where this was going.

“Of course, no one is ever the same after they’re dead. Maybe their eyes are a little absent. Their cheekbones a little more… bony. But that’s really no different from the living. We all wake up every day a little bit different than the last, no?” Valerica raised an eyebrow, “but the King refused to see it this way. He cast out his necromancer and declared every necromancer a plague on Alois. They were to be caught and killed, no nuance about it.”

“Naturally, our great Goddess Morgana saw this as a threat to her children. She saw us in peril, and charitably gifted us the ability to fight back against a greater foe. To save us from extinction.”

Valerica raised her hand to the air and a plume of green smoke erupted from it. The smoke flickered and flashed, as if jolted by lightning. In her other hand, a ball of fire grew in her palm.

“I was one of the chosen,” Valerica grinned, dispelling the fumes, “the first [Necromage]. A necromancer with the ability to harness the elements—water, earth, fire, air. There were two other chosen: Sera, the [Necropriest], and Azrael, the [Necroknight]. Our disciplines existed in a previously unknown tier of the class system—the excalibur tier. Previous to the Dark Calamity, there were only three tiers: novice, intermediate, and expert.”

Momo’s eyes widened. She was starting to see why the wizard nearly fainted at the mere mention of Valerica.

“Are there any other excalibur classes that aren’t necromancers?” Momo asked. From her impression of the world outside the sanctuary, the necromancers hadn’t exactly won the Dark Calamity.

Valerica frowned. It seemed Momo had touched a nerve.

“Tragically, yes,” she groaned, “in reaction to Morgana’s gift, the other deities responded in kind. Kyros, the jealous oaf, couldn’t resist but bless the Holy Knights with a similar path to ascension. He gave the King’s most elite circle of soldiers access to the [Knight of the Sun] excalibur class, and crushed the necromancer’s rebellion.”

Momo hummed, listening intently.

“But,” Valerica whispered, leaning over her desk so she was barely a breath away from Momo, “Morgana tells me things. Whispers. Things that even the other Gods do not know.”

As she spoke, Valerica’s fangs reflected the candlelight. Momo’s cheeks heated up, her breathing stuttering.

“She tells me that excalibur is not the end, but only the beginning,” her eyes lit up like lava, and Momo could feel her molten hot breath on her face.

Just as she looked like she was about to say more, she drew back abruptly, clearing her throat.

“Anyways,” Valerica said, “your promotion.”

Momo’s jaw dropped. She was going to leave it at that?

“But, Morgana—”

“Is very impressed by you!” Valerica clapped her hands together, pivoting the subject swiftly, “and so am I. That’s why I’m promoting you to Sales Lead of Morgana’s Dawn. You will be in charge of all of our customer relations; getting new leads, maintaining relationships. We want to be at the forefront when it comes to undead services, and I think you’re just the girl for the job.”

Momo wanted to slam her head on the table. In a mere second, she went from dreaming of eternal power—power that rivaled the Gods—to a second-rate customer service employee.

She sighed. She supposed everyone had to start somewhere.

Valerica looked at her with shining eyes, and it caused Momo to stand up straight again.

“I’ll be the best Sales Lead you’ve ever had,” Momo nodded, and meant it.

“I just know you will.”

“Goddess, I can feel it. She’s the one.”

The main hall, usually bustling with necromages, fell silent in the night. The members of the sanctuary had retired to their beds or to their studies, tucked away with pillows and spell tomes. All that remained was Valerica, sitting cross-legged before the statue of Morgana.

She is meek and frail, Valerica.

Valerica sat with her eyes closed in a meditative position. As was her tradition every midnight, she communed with the Goddess. The deity's voice filled the room, echoing everywhere yet coming from nowhere.

“That is exactly why I am sure,” Valerica dug her nails into her thighs, “she comes to us as a wolf in sheep’s clothing.”

A deafening silence passed over the chamber. They used to talk in hurried tones, exchanging ideas back and forth like children. But as of late, their conversations had become charged, a tension hanging in the air.

This is not a game to be played lightly. If we want to achieve our goal, we must be exact. Certain. We must not grow close to a lamb while searching tirelessly for the wolf.

Valerica shook her head.

“I am certain,” she said, teeth gritted, “she is the wolf.”

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