Birth of a Necromancer 032

The cart was plugging along the dirt road, making a pleasant sound whenever the many different wares that were being transported made a hop in response to an uneven part of the road. There was a plethora of different items among the wares, which were to be sold in the capital of Kanburrough, which was most commonly known as Roughensburg. The cart's drivers, Rick and Gayle, whose fathers, and their fathers before them, had been merchants for all of their lives were quietly sitting in the cart, each merrily doing their own thing. There was almost not a single waking moment where they weren't either travelling or trading. Only the few days before taking to the road, after having successfully made a deal, was time spent resting and enjoying their newly-acquired fortunes.

Currently, the two merchants were transporting various, luxurious furs, high-quality booze, salt, and spices; all of which were extremely sought after by the people of the capital. The demand for booze was high in Roughensburg, mainly because of the many inns and taverns there, but also because of the many nobles who resided there. Expensive, alcoholic beverages tended to sell rather well when wealthy men with money to spare occupied the buying end of a negotiation table. And that was exactly why the two merchants specialized in exactly that. Booze. While there were many things in the back of the two merchants' cart, there were mostly fine, aged wines, whiskeys, and ales.

Rick, the one of the two brothers who excelled at arithmetics, was sitting behind the four oxen that were pulling the cart. He was calculating the estimated value of the wares which were currently in their cart. Methodically, he was arranging each quantity of items in order of which was expected to give the largest sum of money. If his calculations were correct that would be the wine, which he had estimated to be worth at least 10.000 gold coins, which was a nice sum of money. But that was to be expected of a hundred units of the highest quality of alcohol, collected from far and wide.

"Gayle, would you stop drinking the ale, you buffoon?!" Rick angrily asked his brother, who was drunkenly lying in the back of the wooden cart.

The drunken brother had placed his mouth just beneath the tap of one of the five barrels of ale. Furthermore, he was wrapped in some of the wolf furs they were supposed to be selling. Judging from his rosy nose and cheeks, he had had more than a few swigs of their fine wares.

"Don't be such a killjoy, brother... It's not like-" Gayle began, however, it would seem that he had drunken too deeply, for he passed out on the bottom of the cart before he could finish the sentence he had begun.

The other brother was not surprised at his other half's behavior. After all, they were about to hit it big in the capital, so a little bit of celebration wasn't too much to ask, Rick supposed. However, getting drunk and passing out while on the roads, which weren't entirely safe, was a little too much to ask one's brother to put up with. But the odds of getting attacked by bandits were relatively low, so Rick was going to allow his brother to sleep this one time. Besides, it wasn't like Gayle was a useless brother at all. In fact, the family business would hardly function without the always-cheery, and always drunken, Gayle to land deals with nobles who more often than not shared his predilection for getting hammered.

'Twenty-five stacks of fur, each consisting of fifty furs are priced at... Where are my damned notes?!'

While his brother was the negotiator, Rick was the deal-maker - the one who made sure that the brothers never got screwed over by some high and mighty nobleman who thought that underpaying them would be good for sport. Like that, the two each had their function: one made sure that the deals were favorable for them, while the other convinced the clients to go along with whatever price Rick had settled on.

The plan was to sell the wares they were currently transporting, and then use the money to purchase a ship. That had been the two brothers' dream ever since they were kids; to own a ship, and in time, perhaps an entire fleet. They had been saving for as long as they could remember, and now, finally, they were about to have amassed the 145.000 gold coin price for a small cargo-ship. Wares from overseas were perhaps the most lucrative on the market, almost no matter what the nature of said wares were. There were many reasons for that one of which being the prestige-value that naturally came with owning wares from foreign countries.

Rick could almost feel the money, they would make, between his fingers. The gold coins running between his fingers, the high-quality food that he would be feasting upon due to his massive fortune. Yes, one had to be greedy in order to become a successful businessman.

Lost in thought, the sober brother failed to notice that his oxen had become unsettled. Something was wrong, but the distracted merchant didn't pay it any heed. He was too busy thinking about his future, to notice that his life could potentially be in jeopardy.

The sound of footsteps suddenly became clear, as whatever was approaching moved from the grassy area, which surrounded the dirt road, and unto the road itself. If Rick had been paying attention, he would have noticed but alas; he had not. The footsteps became louder and louder, and more and more numerous.

When rick finally realized that something was wrong, his oxen had stopped dead in their tracks. The sound of what sounded like people approaching had suddenly become very clear, and it was almost as if the entire area surrounding the merchant had turned silent as if the world was holding its breath. Everything, except for his brother's snoring, appeared to have become completely and utterly mute.

The merchant looked up and saw numerous goblins surrounding his carriage. They had stopped his oxen and were currently staring at the lone man who was sitting in his cart.

Rick drew a short sword he kept by his side whenever he was travelling, but he knew that he couldn't singlehandedly defeat what appeared to be twelve goblins. There was simply no way to accomplish something like that, for him.

Only one option remained, even though it was a long shot. The merchant filled his lungs with air, and cried for help as loud as he could, well aware of the fact that there were likely no-one around to help.

That assumption, however, was proven wrong as an icy gust of wind drifted past Rick's sweaty face.

"Frostbolt..." A cold, lifeless voice said in a tone that sounded as if its owner exhaled the words, rather than speaking out loud.

Following those words, something looking like a rock pierced one of the goblins' head. Blood splattered everywhere, staining the nearby goblins, the cart, and the dirt road on which they all stood.

Rick turned his head, slightly scared of what kind of sight was awaiting him. His fears were confirmed, when he saw a man dressed in tattered, black robes. Arm outstretched, he was holding his hand out, and suddenly, the merchant knew what had been fired at the goblin, and what kind of person had saved him. The weapon in question was magic, and its wielder was a Frost Magician, a magician who had turned to using the merciless, cold variation of water magic known best as Frost Magic.

Now that one of their comrades had been killed, the goblins shifted their focus from the defenseless Rick to the hooded Frost Magician.

'Will he be able to handle this?' The merchant wondered.

However, putting his wavering confidence in his continued survival aside, he was thankful for the fact that his cries for help had been heard. Although less thankful for the fact that his savior, the robed man, would most likely be seeking compensation of some kind. Most likely in gold.

The goblins charged their comrade's murderer, with their chipped and broken clubs and knives held high.

"Consecutive... Frostbolts..." The magician exhaled, hailing deadly icicles through yet another six goblins.

Astounded at their enemy's overwhelming strength, the goblins stopped for a second, unsure of whether or not to continue their reckless assault. They decided to continue, so they charged onward. To their deaths.

"Ice bomb." The hooded man said in his whispering voice.

The icicles, which had impaled the dead goblins, exploded, sending deadly shards of ice flying in all directions. Rick took cover, and was luckily not hit. That, however, was not the case for the goblins. Only one remained, and it had fallen to its knees.

The remaining goblin's eyes were big, and filled with disbelief as it looked around. Looked at its dead comrades, who had been alive and well, moments ago. Its reality had been shattered, torn to shreds, as its friends had been slaughtered before its eyes. The worst thing was the fact that it was next in line, and that there was nothing it could do about it. However, despite the fact that it was doomed, it still rose to its feet, picked up another blade and charged its opponent, now wielding two weapons.

It didn't make it far, however, it wasn't the Frost Magician who ended it. No, a knife had come flying from the dense forest that flanked one side of the road. It had been thrown with deadly precision, hitting the lone goblin right above its right ear. Much like its comrades, it had been ended with a single attack.

'Who are these monsters?' Rick asked himself, fearing slightly for his own wellbeing.

The merchant looked for the person who had thrown the knife and was almost relieved to see a hooded man wearing a priest's white robes appear from the forest. It was a bit unorthodox for a priest to use knives to end an opponent, let alone accompany someone like the dark-robed Frost Magician. But Rick supposed it didn't matter, since they had saved him.

Thinking that it would be rude to simply wait for his saviors to approach him, Rick left his carriage and started approaching to the odd pair that had saved him.

"Umm... Thank you for saving us, strangers." The merchant began, however, he was unsure of how to thank a man of the Church.

The priest turned his head to Rick who was still approaching the two. Neither of Rick's saviors moved an inch; instead, they waited for the merchant to be but few meters from them, before talking. Unlike what he had expected, the priest didn't lead the conversation. Rather, the dangerous-looking Frost Magician initiated the conversation.

"Well met... Where are you headed?" He asked with his strange, dead voice.

"Uh, well, Roughensburg" Rick responded.

A minute or so passed, while the black and white-robed men looked at each other. Then they turned to look at the merchant, who felt strangely small when placed before the two people before him. Both because they were quite tall, but also because there seemed to be worlds between their levels of power.

'Maybe these people would do as caravan guards?' The merchant thought to himself.

He had sufficient coin, booze, and metals to pay anyone poor enough to not own a horse or the like to do anything for him, so recruiting a goblin-hunting priest and his companion shouldn't be a problem.

Rick opened his mouth, ready to recruit the odd pair, but was cut off by the black-robed man.

"We'd like to... Travel with you to... The capital."

"Perfect, I was just looking for someone like you two!" The merchant said, half- intentionally.

Once again, the two tall men looked at each other, before turning to look at Rick.

"And by that... You mean..?"

"I'd like to- I'd like to hire you to protect my business for a while. I'll even pay you."

The priest nodded in agreement to the proposal that Rick had put forward. The odd pair then proceeded to walk past the merchant, placing themselves neatly among the wares in the back of the cart where Gayle was sleeping.

After calming the oxen down, and making sure that his two passengers were somewhat comfortable, Rick started driving his cart onward. Toward Roughensburg where he and his drunken, sleeping brother would make it big.

Chapter end