Necromancer Academy and the Genius Summoner
Chapter 654: Episode 654
[Who are you?]
The voice was utterly cold, as if devoid of any interest in another living soul. Simon chose his words carefully in that fleeting moment. Just the essentials. Quick and direct.
"My name is Simon Polentia, from Kizen! I came to Kalos North under the orders of Lady Nephthys."
He politely held out the letter bearing Nephthys’s seal, but the gaze from within the helmet never even flickered toward it.
[I have never permitted the visit of an outsider.]
The Grand Duke turned away, their red cape whipping violently through the air with a sharp flap.
[And the North is not so peaceful that I have time to coddle a fledgling.]
The Grand Duke pulled on the reins.
[Move.]
The Grand Duke rode past Simon, followed by the endless ranks of Phantom Dullahans. Trapped amidst the marching cavalry, Simon couldn’t move a muscle, forced to stand frozen until the entire army had departed. When they were gone, only a swirling cloud of dust remained in the empty space.
’Phew.’
Watching the rapidly receding figures, Simon put the letter back in his coat. Beads of sweat dotted his forehead. Just meeting their gaze had been utterly draining.
’The pressure was immense.’
Their first meeting had been a disaster, but rather than feeling intimidated, Simon felt his resolve harden. What kind of person was the Grand Duke of the North? What kind of life had they lived? What values did they hold? His curiosity only intensified. He found himself desperate to speak with the senior Legion Commander, no matter what it took.
[Khahaha! Turned away at the door, just as I expected! What will you do now, boy!]
Pier laughed with undisguised amusement. A smile touched Simon’s own lips.
"I’ll just have to be persistent until they have no choice but to see me."
With that, Simon headed for the Grand Duke’s castle.
---
The castle gate was open, as the Phantom Dullahan unit had just departed. With no guards posted, Simon entered the inner castle easily.
’Hmm.’
For the residence of the famed hero of humanity, it was spartan and functional. It seemed designed purely for defense; there were none of the luxurious trappings one would expect in a noble’s home. Not a single statue, fountain, or manicured lawn was in sight. Most of the buildings appeared to be armories, food storages, or civilian shelters.
Careful not to step in any horse manure, Simon reached the entrance. The thick iron door was ajar, and he slipped through the gap.
"Excuse me!"
Unlike the sleet-swept outdoors, the interior was warm. He could hear the crackling of a fire, and monster pelts were spread across the floor. A lone figure stood inside the castle. He had a gruff expression, stubborn eyebrows, a hook where his right hand should be, and an eyepatch over one eye. A thick mat of chest hair was visible through his worn-out shirt.
"Who are you?" the man grunted.
"My name is Simon Polentia, from Kizen," Simon replied politely.
"Kizen, so what?"
Simon paused. Until now, introducing himself as a Kizen student had always elicited surprise or disbelief. This flat reaction was a first.
"I came to see the Grand Duke under the orders of Lady Nephthys."
The man clicked his tongue, remaining indifferent even at the mention of Nephthys’s name.
’The atmosphere in the North really is different.’
News was slow to arrive here due to the geography, but more than that, the Northerners, who fought for survival every day, had no interest in the affairs of the outside world. It was a common tale for outsiders to act arrogantly, relying on their status, only to be beaten to a pulp and chased away. In this harsh land, only the unyielding logic of strength held sway. To the Northerners, even a highborn royal was just another useless mouth to feed, too soft to fight and unable to earn their keep.
The man looked Simon up and down, then picked up a duster with a thoroughly unconvinced expression.
"The Grand Duke is not an idle person. It’ll be difficult to meet them."
"And you are?"
"Godrick, the butler of this castle."
That man was the butler? He looked more like a warrior ready to rush onto a battlefield and smash a goblin’s head with his bare hands—though wielding a sword would be difficult with that hook.
"I was wondering when the Grand Duke might return."
"They just left for battle. They should be back by evening."
"Would it be all right if I waited here until then?"
Godrick sighed heavily. "I won’t stop you, but they won’t see you even if you wait."
"I’ll wait," Simon said, perching on a nearby chair.
Butler Godrick paid him no mind and went to clean another window. It clearly wasn’t an atmosphere where he’d be treated as a guest, so Simon simply waited.
The wait was endless. After two hours on the hard chair, his back began to ache. Simon stood up to stretch.
’Hm?’
Looking out the window, he saw a woman struggling to push a cart that was stuck in the mud. The donkey pulling it strained, but it was no use.
Simon slowly rose from his seat.
---
"Thank you so much for your help!"
Simon had summoned his skeletons to free the cart from the mire. The woman bowed her head repeatedly.
"It was the least I could do," Simon said, studying her.
Northern women, he noted, were powerfully built. Perhaps their bone structure was different; she was tall with broad shoulders and strong, thick arms. She wore a long apron, a white cloth wrapped around her head.
She smiled brightly. "You must be an outsider."
"Ah, yes. How did you know?"
She gestured to her own face. "You’re so clean-shaven, you look just like a young noble. Around here, if a man doesn’t grow a beard, people say he looks like a little girl."
"...Ahaha."
So that explained all the beards. He should have brought a fake one.
"My name is Grayson."
"I’m Simon Polentia."
Simon walked alongside Grayson, making small talk. Perhaps because he had helped her, she was the first person in the North to treat him with any warmth. The cart was filled with milk; she and her father ran a nearby reindeer farm. Seizing the opportunity, Simon asked her the questions that had been burning in his mind.
"You want to earn the acknowledgment of the Northerners?" she asked, pausing to think. "A beard?"
"...Besides that."
"Hahaha! I’m kidding. Hmm, let’s see. I was born and raised here, so it’s something I’ve always taken for granted. It’s a bit hard to explain to an outsider. Ummm, how should I put it..." She thought for a moment more. "Pride!"
"Pride?"
"Yes! All Northerners have pride." She raised her index finger. "We call it the Pride of Protection! To protect my land, my family, my territory! Even a newborn baby is no exception. We have a custom of never changing the cradle they first use. It means even a newborn must protect their own territory."
Northerners did not run. Their daily life was war, inseparable from battle. A trip to the river to do laundry could mean drawing a dagger to fight off a monster. Slaying two or three beasts before returning home was routine. If they had fled from every life-threatening crisis, the North of today would not exist.
The duty to resolutely protect what is yours had been passed down as tradition for generations, evolving into a source of immense pride. The Pride of Protection was what united the Northerners.
"Every single one of us is respected by the others as a ’protector," Grayson explained. "Those who flee because they value their lives, or those who abandon what they were meant to protect, are branded cowards. To warriors who risk their lives for their pride every day, outsiders who just wander in looking for profit are naturally not seen in a good light."
Simon nodded. ’The Pride of Protection.’
He understood the concept. But how could he, an outsider, prove he possessed it? Simon’s thoughts deepened.
---
After parting with Grayson, Simon returned to the Grand Duke’s castle for another endless wait. Since Butler Godrick seemed completely indifferent to his presence, Simon decided to explore.
With every step, the floorboards of the ancient castle sang out in a creaking chorus. The building’s worn state was a testament to the North’s dire financial situation.
’Oh.’
He soon found a long hall, one wall completely covered with portraits of the successive Grand Dukes of the North. They all had black hair, rugged features, and magnificent beards. Their hawk-like eyes, sharp enough to command the unruly Northerners, were particularly striking.
’The Grand Duke’s face must look something like theirs, right?’
He hadn’t been able to see it beneath the helmet.
Wandering further, Simon entered an open room. It was the Grand Duke’s office. It was devoid of personal effects, filled instead with training equipment and rows of weapons and armor. All the armor was of the same design: pitch-black plate mail. It seemed the Grand Duke wore the same style every time.
Just as Simon reached out to touch one of the helmets...
"Grand Duke! It’s—it’s an emergency! An emergency!" a frantic shout echoed from outside.
"What is it? The Grand Duke just left for battle," came Godrick’s voice.
Simon stepped out of the office. A messenger, his head covered in snow, was reporting breathlessly.
"The territory of Barnesdale is under attack! The number of invading undead is estimated at over five hundred! There’s a named one, too!"
"Five hundred?" Godrick’s jaw dropped. "How could a force of that size move without anyone knowing!"
"It seems they used a route we were unaware of. We need the Grand Duke and the knight order!"
"The Grand Duke left for Dondra just hours ago! And Barnesdale is where their relatives live... First, issue an evacuation order!"
"The people of Barnesdale will never obey! They’ll fight to the last man!"
It was then that a new voice cut in.
"I’ll go."
The two men looked up to see a blue-haired boy on the second-floor railing, his hand raised.
The messenger snapped in irritation. "This is no place for a kid to butt in—!"
"I may look like this, but I’m a necromancer from Kizen." Simon lifted the Grand Duke’s helmet he had just taken and slowly placed it on his head. It fit perfectly, as if it were his own.
With a soft thump, Simon leaped from the railing in a single bound, landing lightly on the floor below. The butler and the messenger flinched back.
"I have an idea," Simon said, a dark blue light glinting from within his helmet.