Chapter Text
Emmrich looked at his pile of lesson plans, sighing at the amount of work ahead of him. There were upsides and downsides to the Necropolis being on lock down. With no classes, he could catch up on marking papers, planning future lessons, and proofreading manuscripts. But now with the undead settled down, Baron Van Markham defeated, everything that had been backed up and delayed, no kafood shipments, interments of the dead, remembrance ceremonies, rites, and last but not least, locating lost halls that had rearranged during the ensuing battles. There was the inevitable visit by the Templars, almost as a formality, offering their services to make sure everything was alright. This would be gratefully declined. And then there would be the Nobility, clamouring to see if their precious monuments were intact, and that their crypts and mausoleum constructions were on schedule. Frankly it was best if he just stayed in his little apartment, alone with Manfred. It was much simpler this way. After five decades he was beginning to appreciate a nice, quiet life.
He was thanking Manfred for setting a freshly made cup of tea on his desk (The perfect blend that would work miracles now that he needed to focus,) when he heard a soft, yet insistent knock at the door. It wasn't the sombre, slow thud of Vorgoth, nor was it the erratic rap that Johanna once did (although he didn't expect to ever see her again, now that she had been expelled.) This particular knock could only come from the Keeper of Seals. Odd, she had been extremely busy since the War of the Banners, he had barely even seen her.
"Manfred, would you open the door for our guest?" His ward gave an affirmative hiss, and clambered out of the room, his joints clicking as he did so. (He would have to get his right patella looked at, it sounded like the joints were rubbing together). He quickly lifted a set of books off a cushioned chair and placed them out of the way as he heard a happy hissed greeting as the door opened.
"Greetings to you, Manfred," Myrna's gentle voice was heard, and the excited gasp coming from the skeleton, "Is the professor home?
"I'm in my study!" Emmrich called out, and his college quickly strode into the room. That was the first sign that something odd was going on. Myrna did not do anything quickly. Every movement she made was done with thought and purpose. Not to mention, she looked a bit… unkempt. To the average visitor or student in the Necropolis, she would have looked as prim and proper as she always did. But to someone who had worked with her for decades, he could tell, by the lack of her ritual lip makeup, her hair a bit frazzled, and dark circles underneath her eyes. The poor woman had been obviously under an extreme amount of stress. A wisp accompanied her, buzzing and chirping irregularly, as if to mirror her condition.
"Myrna!" He greeted her with a smile and offered her a seat. "Manfred, would you please make a cup of tea for our guest? Something from my citrus blend." Yes, that would be just the thing to pick her up her spirits, no pun intended.
Myrna nodded her assent, and slowly sat down, and smoothed her dress, a nervous gesture that was so unlike her.
"What can I do for you?"
"Professor…" she swallowed, closed her eyes, took a breath, then continued, "I've come to ask for a favour."
It sounded rehearsed, whatever was on her mind was definitely important to her.
"Myrna, you know that I would do anything for you."
Oddly, that sentence did not reassure her. "This isn't a small request." She licked her chapped lips, and continued. "You've heard about how the War of the Banners had been resolved?"
"Ah yes!" His hands steepled together in excitement, "Watcher Ingellvar descending to the depths and taking out the Baron in one on one combat. How exciting! How brave!" Ingellvar… that was a familiar name, but he couldn't quite recall where he had heard it before. Not a student, he remembered all of their names. He seemed to recall a noble family that had that name, but he swore they'd all died out in the Storm Age
"If only the High Council saw it that way" Myrna sighed, rubbing her temples. When did the poor woman last sleep? "Unfortunately, under pressure from the living Van Markhams, the council voted three to two to find her guilty of corpse and tomb desecration, and sentenced her to the maximum punishment. Death."
"Oh dear."
"And cremation."
He nearly gasped. The first punishment was bad enough. Certainly in putting down an undead rebellion, one would expect some collateral damage. But cremation? The destruction of one's body? That was saved only for the most grievous of crimes.
"Wait, you said the vote was three to two, that's only five council members!"
"I… was forced to recuse myself." She looked down at her lap, as if she was ashamed. Recuse herself? Emmrich wasn't sure why she needed to do that.
"Would not Vorgoth take your place? After all, they cast the final deciding vote when the council is deadlocked." Vorgoth, a being older than even some of the Lich Lords, would surely have voted against such a short sighted judgment.
"Vorgoth was… also forced to recuse themselves."
"But… why?"
"Because…" she sighed, her breath coming in shakily. He'd never seen her like this. She'd always been calm and collected, never letting her emotions get the better of her.
"Because Watcher Zea Ingellvar is our ward."
"Ah."
Really Volkarin, a voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like Johanna's, everyone knows about Ingellvar, Vorgoth's Silver Shadow. He remembered the day when the spirits rippled in excitement, that deep where only the dead dwelt, a living soul had been found by Vorgoth, a tiny silver haired babe. Whence she came, not even the spirits could tell, but it had started a flurry of discussion among the Mourn Watchers, with theories of her origins debated. A gift from the Fade? A spirit made flesh? Or just a mundane bastard child who was left to die of exposure? It didn't help that Vorgoth, whose origins and identity were just as mysterious, had immediately announced that the child was under their protection.
From then on, the child was seldom seen, rarely heard from, preferring to keep to herself in deepest levels of the necropolis in the company of the dead… and Vorgoth. He'd seen glimpses of her throughout the years, peeking from behind Vorgoth's robes, flashes of silver in the darkness accompanying Myrna when she needed to dispel a particularly destructive spirit. But never had he really laid eyes on her proper. No wonder Myrna was so agitated, as Vorgoth's apprentice at the time, she'd helped take care of their charge, she was practically the girl's mother.
"My condolences," he offered lamely. "I wish there was a way that I could help-"
"There is," Myrna interrupted him, murmuring thanks to Manfred for the tea that he set down before her. "The issue is that I wish I did not have to ask this of you, but we are out of options." She waited until the skeleton had left the room and had politely closed the door. (The fact Manfred, a spirit of Curiosity, was beginning to understand the concept of privacy warmed Emmrich's heart). After she was certain he could not hear their conversation she continued. "Professor, you have connections that transcend the High Council."
"The Lich Lords."
"Yes."
He sat back in his chair, frowning. While it was true that in a few short years he would attempt to join their ranks, (he ought to have done it years ago, but he kept finding excuses to not take that final step), and while the Lords would probably disapprove of a young woman being executed for, to them, a minor infraction in the grand scheme of things, he knew they were loath to get involved into the matters of mortals. They would occasionally mingle with people of the Necropolis, of Nevarra, and sometimes even the wider world, glamoured of course, as to not distance themselves from the mortals they were expected to protect. But never interfere.
"I'm not sure what you think that I could help you with."
"Watcher Ingellvar has no one save myself and Vorgoth to advocate for her, and we are both bound by the High Council's decision. But if she had a person with powerful connections…" she sighed, and looked at her still untouched cup. "What I am saying, Professor… I am requesting that you marry her."
He wasn't sure if she had purposely timed the question until he had finished swallowing his last mouthful of tea, but he was grateful she had. Because he would have made quite a mess as he spat it out.
"M-MAR-" he remembered Manfred was in the next room, and lowered his voice to a hiss, "Marry her?! Are you out of your mind, Keeper?" His mind went back to the time when the news of the foundling's discovery at the Ingellvar's crypt spread throughout the Mourn Watch. He'd been… half way through his studies at the time, studying under Professor Menacker at the time, which made him… twenty three at the time. Which meant, he did the mental calculations, she'd be twenty nine right now. The age gap between them was scandalous! "Myrna, you're suggesting that your young ward be shackled to me, a fifty three year old! A man she's never spoken to, barely ever seen. Is this what you want to do to the poor girl?"
"You give yourself too little credit, Emmrich," she responded, and he had a sense she had already planned for this argument from him. "I think quite highly of you, your knowledge of spirits would synergize well with her more…hands on approach when dealing with undead. And despite the difference of age, you and her would find you have more similarities than you'd think."
"You're just flattering me, Myrna, trying to get into my good graces."
"Perhaps," she admitted, "perhaps it's out of desperation that I come to you, but trust me when I say this: Neither Vorgoth or I would entrust her to you if we did not think so highly of you. We still have one other option, but we do not think she will take it."
What could be worse than Death? OR worse, being married to a decrepit old man that she's never met?
"The High Council has offered her the choice of exile from the Necropolis and banishment from the Mourn Watch."
Oh…
"I see… and with her being raised here for as long as she can remember-"
"That would be a fate worse than death for her."
He sat back in his chair, pondering the choices, "Does… Ingel- ZEA Ingellvar agree to this? I will not force this upon her."
"Vorgoth is speaking to her at this very moment, trying to convince her. We wish to persuade her, not force her into something."
Emmrich contemplated it. He would ascend to Lichdom soon, if the spirits willed it, and whether he succeeded or not, for all intents and purposes he would have 'died' in the process. She would be free to marry whomever she wished afterwards, or to go back to her old life. She would only have to put up with him for a scant few years.
He thought back to the last time the High Council had made a decision he had disagreed with. Johanna Hezzenkoss, one of the few people he could consider a 'friend' , had been given a similar punishment. Exile and banishment. Her crimes were far greater than Ingellvar's, and yet… he still regretted he had stood aside, hadn't argued for a lighter sentence, hadn't been there for her in her time of need. This… this would not make up for his previous failure, but perhaps… he could do some good.
And deep down, in the dark selfish recesses of his mind, did he not desire this? A chance to settle down with someone, to share a simple domestic life? How long had he sought it? Since he was that lad studying under Menacker, at least. He could attain it, even if it was a pale imitation of married bliss. Just for a few years, before he took the rites, he could pretend that he finally had someone to share his life with.
"Very well, if she agrees to it, I will accept your proposal."
The wisp that had accompanied Myra chirped in excitement, as she smiled at it. "Please inform Vorgoth that the professor has agreed." It chirped back at her, then whizzed away, slipping underneath the door and onward to its destination.
"Thank you Emmrich, we will forever be in your debt for this…" She took a sip of her tea, and as he expected, it seemed that all her worries and dread seemed to slip away.
Truly, the right blend of tea could work miracles.