Quoted By:
<span class="mu-s"><span class="mu-r">General Religion 36</span></span>
"Someone fetch me a lantern!" you bark to your men-at-arms.
As if your voice had broken a spell, the uncertain stillness shatters and your men-at-arms begin to scurry to obey you. Some spill into the church in hopes of finding a lantern among the ruins that just needs a bit of oil. Others go to the fence about the grave yard, where lights in cages of wrought iron hang over the entrances, a ways beyond their reach. They mill about with one another, devising some plan to get it down.
Martin digs through his rucksack with some help from Annette. Those two find the lanterns he had packed away much quicker than the men-at-arms by the graveyard could reach the lantern above the gate.
They had made a pyramid of sorts, with two people each supporting one of the legs of the tallest among them. The children get treated to an amusing sight of a man in armor wobbling and off balance, pawing for a grip upon the lantern.
While your men-at-arms scurry for a lantern, you head for the edge of the forest. The fallen leaves that crunch beneath your feet hide away the target of your own search beneath the blanket of autumn. Boric follows shortly behind you, a look of bewilderment upon his face.
"Madame, why do you need a <span class="mu-i">lantern</span> of all things," he asks.
As he watches you eyes, you scan the foot of each tree for something suitable for your purposes. Without turning your gaze back to him, you ask: "Boric, what are the three categories of undead?"
"<span class="mu-i">Three</span> categories?" Boric sounds a bit confused at that thought. "I'm afraid I only know of two, madame. There's the sort that spring up when the dead are not given proper rites, and seek to haunt whatever killed them. Then there's the sort that heretics make, by stuffing a human corpse with the soul of a demon. Both of them need an exorcist to put down, or else someone who can wield the Holy Light."
You nod at him. Good answers for both, as you would expect from your second in command. You cannot blame him for knowing not of the third, for it is rare to see such necromancy outside of the Marshes of Azalea. You explain that, "There is a third sort, Boric. Like the first, it involves the spirits of the dead... and like the second, they only arise at the hands of a necromancer."
"You think that heretic has <span class="mu-i">enslaved</span> the souls of the dead?" Boric hisses at the thought. You can see the anger in his blue eyes as his grip tightens upon his sword-lance.
"No," you assure him. Had you thought that the case, you would be having <span class="mu-i">words</span> with Damien. To interfere with a soul as it returns to Light is among the greatest of heresies against the Lord of Light. One not so easily forgiven, even with the King's protection. "If that were the case, he needn't plead with them for cooperation. I believe he just made an offer that the ancestors of this place accepted."
