Chapter 4 (2/2)

Julian mutters to himself, a flash of curiosity pa.s.sing through his eyes.

Light and warmth, cast from a burning torch, disperses the cold darkness of the underground pa.s.sageway. Holding such an implement, Julian descends upon the frosty steps with a serious expression; his right hand is pressed upon his sword-hilt. Even without the senses granted to him as a knight of demise, Julian easily tastes the danger inherent in the darkness beneath.

There is a malevolent spirit here.

In fact, the wandering souls should have continued their cleaning activities around the castle as yesterday. But upon their arrival at this particular spot, the souls had discovered, to their surprise, that they were unable to work; a stronger, more stinging force occupied the s.p.a.ce. In exasperation, the souls were forced to report the matter to their master, leaving him to handle its resolution.

It is a rare occasion for Julian.

It should be known that his wandering souls were no ordinary ghosts. Having been born in the age of the Lucent Moon a thousand years past, they inherently possessed immense strength; bound furthermore by powerful spiritual magic and weathered by time, they might not match up well against wizards, but in the ethereal realm were essentially unrivalled. Given that this castle was built on the site of a former battlefield, the amount of historical fallen here was innumerable, and malevolent spirits thus not uncommon, but for the most part they had been consumed completely by the wandering souls as food. A malevolent spirit which was inedible for these souls is a rare sight indeed, and piques Julian’s curiosity.

Standing within the pitch-black pa.s.sage, Julian understands finally their obstacle.

The air is thick, not only with the despair and obsession characteristic for a malevolent spirit, but also with a potent void energy – a special kind of magical energy which only affects the intangible and the illusory. Because of this, a s.p.a.ce filled with void energy is a dead zone for wandering spirits, who lack a physical form; the penalty for their entrance is dissipation.

But, why is such strong void energy scattered here?

Julian furrows his eyebrows, continuing onwards. Ordinarily, only wizards emanated such auras after death. Does that mean that a wizard had died in his castle? If so, how come the wandering souls had never found out about it?

The shadows in the narrow corridor darken, stifling even the firelight from the torch. Even as he turns a corner, the killing intent from the malevolent spirit becomes more evident; almost no verification is needed for him to find the source.

It is a well.

A place that was originally inaccessible behind dungeon walls, but the latter had recently crumbled due to the pa.s.sage of time, causing the aspect within to seep out. The well-water had dried up long ago, revealing walls of bare stone. Julian jumps down, turns his head, and easily finds his target.

A corpse. Or rather, something that had been a corpse.

Weathered by time, its former clothes had become tattered beyond recognition; the white bones within were also buried, for the most part, beneath the ochre soil. s.h.i.+fting the torch to illuminate the body before him, Julian glances upwards and around.

Under the firelight, a number of anguished scratch marks are revealed upon the wall.

Because of considerations on pressure and permeability, the stone used in the construction of a well was entirely high-quality quarry; even a sword would be hard-pressed to make a mark on the material. Additionally, though the well was dried up, the moisture and algae left behind nevertheless gives the stone a smoothened appearance. To have scratch marks that remained under these circ.u.mstances shows their profound will to live.

But, despite their exertions, fate had not given them a lifeline. Such is its nature. Regardless of effort, the goals of some will go unachieved … the result does not differ even with the ultimate sacrifice.

Julian crouches in an attempt to clean out the carca.s.s. The malevolent spirit was, as of yet, still hidden, but he had his own plans in that regard.

The instant he squats down, a chilling, relentless wave of energy erupts from behind him, putting out the already-stifled torch.

[1], [2]: Some digging was required to unearth this supposedly medieval distinction. Tenants-in-chief held land directly from the king, while feoffees were entrusted with parcels from a lord. However I am not sure that the distinction was so stark as the author is making it out to be here, since in many places tenants-in-chief were also said to be feoffees. Well, I did my best. For further reading, consider this, this, and maybe Wikipedia. I could do better research, but I really don't want to.

[3]: Astute readers will note that this specific figure is a little questionable. Precious metals are uncommon, and taxation from the peasantry was more often in food and fungibles, not such a large sum of gold pieces alone.

[4]: It was hard to pa.r.s.e for me what the author meant here. I have attempted thus to render the sentence as accurately as I could, so you can try to figure it out.

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