[TLQ-B2] 16. Covenant (Patreon)

XVI

Covenant

“My hand in marriage, you say?”

My eyelids drooped and Kalameet’s face sharpened in my sight. Marriage with an undead did not follow the regular rules and conventions of most mortal races. For one, undead didn’t procreate, so there were no norms restricting who you could marry. It was commonplace for brothers and sisters to marry.

Undead marriage really only had one goal: to consolidate the base of one’s power with that of another. Physically and spiritually.

Physically, because marrying meant sharing each other’s necromantic constructs, riches and artefacts.

Spiritually, because the two undead would have their fate intertwined.

Fate was a complicated concept which I myself didn’t I understand all the particulars of. However, broadly, fate could be seen as a Tome. Each creature, entity, and object, no matter how big or small, had an entry that kept Record of what futures existed for that particular item.

For example, mine could say: ‘Sepharin, the Silent Empress, commits suicide and is reborn as Sepharin K. Vrost.’ But it could’ve also said: ‘Sepharin, the Silent Empress, commits suicide in the year 5869 of the Luciarian Calendar.’

It wasn’t that exact or literal (there wasn’t really a Tome), but there was a…Presence, for lack of a better term.

The key was that these Records weren’t permanent. Fate was concerned with Futures, so the past was only of marginal interest to it. Entries that didn’t change were only kept for a certain time before they were discarded. And an item without a Record was no item at all. It would cease to exist like it never had in the first place. Once that happened, even the highest tiers of resurrection magic would be unable to bring a soul back from the beyond or raise one as an undead.

I swapped one leg over the other. “You are hoping to change your Record.” A change that said: ‘Married to Sepharin K. Vrost.’

Kalameet was gone. Had been for who knew how long. All that time, his Record had laid unchanging.

Gears behind my eyes clicked into place. ‘So that was the true punishment of the All-Seer.’ He’d imprisoned part of Kalameet’s spirit, fated it to reexperience his own foolish endeavours and subsequent elimination over-and-over. All the while, Kalameet knew that each passing second was another he got closer to having the slate of his Record wiped clean.

But no one knew exactly how long a Record could lie unchanged. There were even theories that it differed for each individual Record. If they were true, Kalameet couldn’t even guess at how long he would still be stuck here.

‘To think he hasn’t gone insane yet.’ Either his mental fortitude was a well deeper than reality, or he was very good at faking his mental state.

The Elder leaned back in his seat. “I’m surprised. I thought I’d need to explain the particulars, but I underestimated you, child. You are correct.”

I refrained from snorting. He would’ve explained no such thing. It wasn’t in his best interest to.

While marriage would reset the timer on his existence, it wouldn’t do more than that. Unless I added some vows.

I could, for example, promise to bind our souls ‘and let not even Death do us part.’ With that, while he wouldn’t magically revive, his Record would keep changing whenever mine did. At that point, as long as I remained alive, there’d be an opportunity to bring back what remained of his soul. The method to do so may not exist or need to be invented, but it’d open up the realm of possibilities and keep them open.

The issue was that I wasn’t just ‘Sepharin K. Vrost.’ If our fates linked, he would be linked to all Records belonging to me. I wasn’t sure if that included the Record of Sepharin Vrost, but it definitely included that of my old self.

I could specify that he’d only gain access to the Record belonging to the Lady of Vrost, but that would only work if I actually owned that Record. Not only would promising part of a Record that wasn’t yours not work, trying to do so would have Fate descend upon you like an actual God of Death. That was a risk I wouldn’t take.

Which meant I’d not only need to link him with the Records of my previous self, but the fact that I had a previous self would be known to him. And it would be known, for he wouldn’t propose marriage without requiring some vows. Likely, he would make me swear to make an honest attempt at bringing him back.

As I considered, Kalameet waited patiently, chin resting in one of his palms. His expression was easy. It was a mask.

How had I even ended up here if not through the machinations of Grandmother? There may not be an answer to that question other than ‘Fate’—a last promise or chance the Tome had gifted Kalameet before it erased his existence completely, perhaps.

It was, for all intents and purposes, his final lifeline.

“If I may be honest, Elder?” I said.

“Please.”

His tone was confident. Yet somewhere deep within his baritone, where the layer wasn’t as thick as elsewhere, I sensed the genuineness of that word. That’s why it almost pained me to say this:

“I’m not certain I see the benefit of your proposition.”

‘I’m not certain I see the benefit of your proposition.’ The words echoed in Kalameet’s head.

No—not certain?! This child! He was a millennia old Monarch, she a mere fledgling necromancer, and she wasn’t certain she ‘could see the benefit’ of his teachings?!

He had no stomach to twist into a knot, yet the rage bubbled up from within. If he were alive, he would’ve wrenched her soul from her body and turned her into his pet for all eternity.

If.

‘Control yourself, Kalameet.’ He plastered a smile onto his expression, which he kept clean from any of the hundreds of ways to kill her that he was considering.

“I must admit,” he said. “You’ve caught me quite off-guard. There are many things I could teach you.”

“Of that I’m certain. For example, the ways in which you brew tea.” Her head tipped minutely and she waited pointedly.

‘This girl!’

Smile completely unstrained, Kalameet gestured and manipulated the warp to craft a cup for the woman.

“Thank you, Elder.” With the elegance of a trained Lady, she took a long sip. “This is good. Where’d you learn to make this?”

A nerve almost popped on his forehead. ‘She’s toying with me.’ And there was nothing he could do but smile and entertain her.

“It’s an old recipe. One from a civilisation which must no doubt be forgotten already.”

She hummed and took another sip. After putting down her cup, she didn’t speak up and merely appreciated the scenery. Kalameet kept quiet as well.

‘Don’t give her an inch.’

Her lack of powers and the way she looked up at him in awe had convinced him the wretch was nothing but an infant. That was his mistake. He’d given up a valuable piece of information (that he couldn’t affect her), thinking it wouldn’t matter in the end. A fool’s mistake. One not becoming of a being as great as himself. But how could he be blamed for no longer being the sly fox he used to be? She was the first real person he’d seen in a hundred eternities.

After finishing her drink, she finally saw fit to break the silence: “I must also say that I’ve already been married before, though the other end of that covenant has long ceased to exist. Hopefully, you do understand my reluctance in wiping away that bond.”

“But of course.”

Come to think of it, how did this runt know about the manipulation of Records? She may be a necromancer, but she was no undead like himself. Moreover, she was young. Younger than three decades, at least.

…So why did he feel like he was conversing with a peer?

‘Preposterous.’ That his brain had even dared to voice the thought almost sent him into rage.

He doused his insides in ice. “I must insist—my teachings would be invaluable. No matter how the world has changed since my demise, I can guarantee you that no enemy you have will be able to stand in your way.”

“No enemy but yourself, Elder.”

His brow rose. “Sorry?”

She sighed. “Let us not play coy. Should I aid you in returning to the physical realm, no matter in which fashion, you will try to lay claim to what is mine. Undead are greedy creatures by nature, and no two Elders ever want to share the same throne.”

This girl…

’She cannot possibly be a child.’

Had some kind of demon taken control of her body? No, that was impossible. His senses may be rusty but he was not yet so far gone that he wouldn’t be able to tell a demon from a human.

“If you fear my wrath,” he said, “we can work that into our vows.”

She shook her head. “Vows are not to be trusted. No matter how ironclad you believe them to be, a dedicated undead will find a workaround. They have the entirety of their long lives to scheme, after all.”

And how right she was. The only assured way to be safe from a backstabbing undead was if you destroyed their spirit. Even then, you may not be in the clear entirely.

Precisely because these facts were stacking up, for the first time in this conversation, his emotions got the better of his reflexes.

“There’s nothing I can offer you besides my vows, child,” he snarled.

The girl smiled.

“I’m aware, Elder. That’s why I said the benefit isn’t clear to me. Your teachings would benefit me greatly, but they would not help me keep myself safe from my teacher.”

Kalameet balled his fists inside his sleeves.

“That’s why,” she said, “I won’t engage in this deal.”

…there was an open end to her sentence, which was the sole thing keeping her from sinking into despiar.

“But?” he pleaded.

Her white teeth beamed through her widened lips.

Kalameet ‘s forehead twitched. “You asked for us to ‘stop playing coy.’”

“You’re right. That wasn’t very lady-like.” She cupped her chin. “You called yourself a god before, didn’t you, Elder?”

“You still doubt my words?”

“Not at all. However, the specific term you used to refer to yourself was ‘Monarch.’ Am I right in thinking this a title?”

He paused. ’She cannot possibly be alluding to what I think she is.’ It couldn’t be. The absolute gal and disregard required would supersede anything he’d done in his own life.

…

Her expression as she waited was warm, soft, and understanding.

“Child,” Kalameet said, “you do not know what you’re asking. The title of Monarch is…”

His mouth shut before finishing. If she knew about Records in this detail, she’d know how titles worked, too.

‘Hubris.’ It couldn’t be anything but. In the end, though he’d thought different at first, the girl in front of him was just another fool.

But who was he to debase her intelligence, when it was working in his favour?

“I cannot give you the full title,” he said. “It’s a part of me. To lose it would be akin to killing myself.”

“But you can offer me a portion of it?” she asked.

“I can.”

“Then I would like to hear about the specifics of this title. Its effects. What has happened to it since your acquisition of it, what enemies it has garnered. I beseech you not to lie, Elder, for I will have you confirm it all during our vows.”

“These lips will utter nothing but the truth.”

They would. However, they’d also utter every possible half-truth to throw at this wretch.