After emptying Hector (and all of his pieces) out of the barrel and onto what felt like a sturdy table or workbench, the gnome smiled, said something about gathering supplies, and left the room. Had Hector not been a pile of bones that weren't joined together, he may have used this opportunity to get up and explore this new place, but he couldn't move, so he was limited to just studying the small view in front of him.
Despite knowing almost certainly that he had never been in this place before, there was something familiar about it. Hector was reminded of his studies and times long since gone. Perhaps all places of learning had certain things in common. Certain sights and smells were repeated from classroom to classroom across Venari (and, no doubt, beyond). The scent of determination hung in the air; a product of students who were currently absent. A fine coating of chalk dust covered most of the objects in Hector's line of sight, and the chalkboard itself was decorated with symbols that the skeleton didn't understand. His first instinct was to fear the unusual markings, but then he scolded himself. He knew better than that. He shouldn't fear things just because he didn't understand them (unless they were big things with weapons that were likely to eat him). For all he knew, those symbols could be used to help people. Hector resolved to ask the gnome about them when he returned.
The gnome's return was proceeded by a whistled tune that reverberated down whatever corridor waited outside the room. Over the years, Hector had been to many places and had heard many songs, and this one was ringing a bell, but he couldn't quite place it.
The tune stopped as the gnome entered the room, the smell of hot chocolate wafted in with him. The delicious smell was intoxicating. It suggested safety and home. There was no way the symbols on the chalkboard could be anything malicious if the owner drank hot chocolate, could they?
"Oh, I'm so sorry," the gnome said. "I didn't think to offer you one. You see, I wasn't sure if you'd be able to drink it... what with you being a skeleton and all."
"There's no need to apologise," Hector replied. "Your assumption was correct. Even when I'm in one piece, I'm not able to consume food or drink, but I do like to enjoy delicious smells."
"Don't you worry, we'll get you back together in no time at all," the gnome said. "And the fact you can smell things is interesting as you have no nose."
"I can also talk, hear, see, and think despite having none of the organs that are usually required for such tasks. My curse is a complex one."
"Aren't they all?" the gnome said with a laugh, and Hector joined him.
"My name is Hector," Hector said, as it felt wrong to be this far into a conversation without knowing who he was conversing with. "I was hoping you might be able to tell me where I am, and who my remarkable company is?"
The gnome smiled and took a sip of his hot chocolate; the brown liquid stuck to his red moustaches, so he wiped it off with his sleeve. "Hullo, Hector," the gnome said. "My name is Beefwehluhngtun, but you can call me Beef. You're currently a guest in my castle. More specifically, you're in one of my classrooms. In here, I teach incredible people incredible things. We call this place the Shadowed Order. I was feeling dramatic and mysterious when I came up with that name, but I feel it fits. Knowledge is often shrouded by mystery, isn't it? You seem like a well educated man, is that the case?"
"Yes, to a point," Hector replied. "Although there is always space to learn more. It's wonderful to meet you Beef, I'm so glad to make your acquaintance."
"The pleasure's all mine," Beef replied. "Now, let's put you back together, shall we?"
"As long as it's not too much trouble," he replied.
To Hector's surprise, Beef didn't even put his mug of hot chocolate down to cast his spell. This was a true master of magic at work. The gnome clenched his free hand into a fist, and a bolt of purple lightning shot out of it and into Hector's pile of bones. The bones rattled on the workbench for a moment, before pulling themselves together, as if they'd become magnetically drawn to each other. Within moments, Hector was standing upright on top of the workbench.
"Thank you ever so much Mr Beef," Hector said as he climbed down. Was it just his imagination or was he more nimble now? He'd never felt so alive! Well, apart from when he'd actually been alive... and even then, he didn't feel as strong as this. "I feel amazing. Please let me know how I can repay you."
"I ask for no payment," Beef replied, "but I'd like it if you stayed a while. Perhaps you could share some knowledge with my students?"
"I'd like that very much," Hector said, sheer happiness crashing into him like a wave. But then guilt hit. Hard. "I hate to ask for another favour so soon..."
"What's on your mind?"
"I believe I came here with others, can you tell me what came of them?"
"I think I know of who you speak," the gnome replied. "The orc is fine. Orcs have amazing constitutions. Sometimes I feel like they could survive anything. Your other friend - a grunt, is that correct? - he's not doing so well. But we can help people in his predicament."
If Hector has been in possession of eyebrows, he would have raised one of them. "What do you mean by predicament?"
Beef finished the rest of his hot chocolate. "Now we see if you're the right kind of person to be here." He didn't say the words with any malice - in fact, he was wearing a friendly smile - but something about the phrase put Hector on edge, and he thought back to the symbols on the chalkboard.
"As I said, this place of learning is called the Shadowed Order," Beef said. "It's a fairly new institute, and we specialise in a number of disciplines. One of which is something I'm sure you're very familiar with."
"Necromancy," Hector whispered, as he started to realise what those symbols were connected to.
"Indeed. Necromancy has a bad reputation, but as you know, it can be used for great things. It can be used to help people. Like your friend. He's long gone without necromancy. You of all people should know that necromancy is a gift! We can save your friend, Hector. Perhaps, with the right instruction, you could be the one to bring him back to life. How does that sound?"
There was no point in denying it. It sounded good, and Hector was the kind of person to do anything for his friends - even if it meant straying into morally grey areas. Such actions were the reason why he'd ended up as a walking, talking skeleton in the first place.
"That sounds... promising..." Hector replied. "What would you have me do?"
"I ask only that you keep an open mind," Beef replied. "I'll train you up, and give you instructions once you're ready. In the meantime, please help me with my students. Let them learn from you."
"Isn't this time sensitive? What will come of the little scamp if he's left to rot?" Hector asked, picturing Scratch's decomposing corpse.
"Worry not," Beef replied. "All will be well. I promise you that."
"I can't help but worry," Hector said.
"I can raise your friend now, if you'd like?" Beef offered. "I just thought you'd like to learn the skill. It could come in handy... especially if you're prone to go off galivanting with orcs."
"If you brought him back now, I could still learn, couldn't I?" Hector asked.
"Well, I suppose, but who knows when another corpse will find its way down here."
"What about your students? What do they practice on?"
"Rats, mainly. Sometimes pigeons. Small creatures like that... They help them get the basics right, but it's nothing compared to the real deal. Beings like your friend, with thoughts, feelings and memories are so much more complex. If rats and pigeons could talk, they'd be perfect training corpses."
Hector thought about that. The ability to raise a dead friend would almost definitely come in handy, and he wouldn't want to mess such a thing up.
"You say people are complex... what if it goes wrong when I raise Scratch?"
"I'll be here right by your side," the gnome promised. "Nothing will go wrong."
"And you promise there's no time limit? Scratch isn't going to waste away while I'm learning the ropes?"
"I promise. You can trust me."
Usually when people say they can be trusted, it means the exact opposite, but Hector was too excited by the possibilities of learning something new while also saving his friend that he didn't even question it. Besides, why would Beef lie to him? He'd already put him back together; the gnome must be a good egg.
"Right... well... as long as no harm will come to my friend, we have a deal," Hector said, as he held out a bony hand towards Beef. Only when the gnome shook it, did Hector realise how strong Beef was. Hector was glad they were getting along; someone with so much physical and perceived magical strength was a formidable opponent.
"I'm glad to have you on board," Beef said, as he let go of Hector's hand. "We'll start you off easy. You can observe some classes today, and we'll launch you into the good stuff once you're ready. Does that sound good?"
Hector nodded his agreement at the same time as a goblin entered the room. He hadn't even heard her footsteps in the corridor; goblins really could be stealthy when they needed to be.
For a moment, the goblin seemed completely lost, and confusion clouded her features as she took in the sights and sounds of the classroom.
"I don't know why-" she started to say, before something seemed to click within her mind. "I'm here for class," she said.
"So good of you to come," Beef said. "And where is Rotgut? Have you seen him on your travels?"
"I think he was sick earlier, boss," she replied. "It wouldn't surprise me if he wasn't able to come today."
"How interesting," Beef said before casting a look towards Hector. "I do my best to ensure the health and well-being of everyone within my castle. If someone's sick, it means that something truly nasty has forced its way through my wards. I know you're new here, Hector, but given the fact that you're unable get sick yourself, would you mind checking in on Rotgut after the lesson?"
"Yes, of course," Hector replied, somewhat glad to start earning his keep. Nothing was ever free, so paying back the debt of being put back together again was his top priority. Well, that and learning necromancy to bring Scratch back. And finding Morga and Carnage. There was just so much to do. Hector held back a sigh as he didn't want his host to think him ungrateful.
"There's no need for that," a booming voice declared, interrupting Hector's thoughts.
This time a hulking ogre entered the room, and Hector wondered how he'd managed to miss the huge footsteps that would have belonged to this giant.
"How are you feeling, Rotgut?" Beef asked. "Petal said you were unwell. Is there anything I - or one of your other teachers - can help with?"
Every word Beef said seemed to be weighed down with concern, but for some reason the ogre appeared to be uncomfortable. A couple of beads of sweat ran down from Rotgut's temple. Was that fear? Hector struggled to understand it, but then again he hadn't met many ogres before, so perhaps this was just how they always acted. For all Hector knew, they could just be sweaty by nature.
"Everything's fine now," the ogre said as he kicked a bag underneath a desk. It was one of those small desks that were the main form of furniture in the classroom's of Hector's youth. Nothing special there, but was there something special about the bag? Hector couldn't decide if it was his imagination or not, but he could have sworn that bag was moving. One thing Hector could decide was it was absolutely none of his business.
"I thought I was ill," the ogre continued, "but it all cleared up. Nothin' to worry about."
"I'm glad to hear it," Beef said with a smile. The wizard turned his attention to Hector once again. "I'm terribly sorry, I wanted to make sure you were more settled before the students arrived, but it seems that time got away from me. Is there anything I can get you to make you feel more comfortable? A cloak, perhaps?"
Hector thought about it before replying. "I don't want to put you out, but some armour wouldn't go amiss. I have the feeling that my escapades are only going to get more dangerous. Having something to protect me - even if it's just something to stop me being gnawed on by hungry beasts - would be marvellous." Basically, anything to stop Carnage from chewing on him again.
"Armour?" Beef asked, stroking his beard in thought. "I'm not sure what we have to fit you as there's not much of you to fill it out, if you know what I mean, but you're welcome to whatever you can use. I'll have someone take you to the armoury after the lesson." At this, he turned to the goblin and ogre. "Now, take your seats, you know Grymmbolt doesn't like it when you're not ready to learn when she gets here."
The two students took to their seats without arguments, just as a demon with huge bat-like wings entered the room. If Hector had been in possession of a heart, it probably would have stopped. The demon was evil incarnate, but also magnificent. Truly mesmerising. Hector's gaze refused to be moved from her.
Until another demon entered the classroom.
This one was smaller. More vile. More grotesque. If one was inclined to look in a dictionary for 'lesser demon', there would have been a portrait of that guy.
"Ah, Drain," Beef said. "We weren't expecting you for this lesson."'
The lesser demon's shoulders slumped. "Grymmbolt said Drain couldn't stay in our quarters."
"I don't trust him not to interfere with my stuff," the awe-inspiring demon said. She really was something. "Actually, I don't trust him at all."
In fairness, Hector wouldn't have trusted the lesser demon either.
"It just always feels like he's up to something. Like he's plotting something," the magnificent demon was saying. "If we were back in the Abyss, I could do something about it. Instead I'm-"
"Instead you're about to teach a lesson," Beef interrupted. "Something we're all very grateful for."
"Drain isn't grateful," the lesser demon said. "Drain wanted to finish his nap."
"Your nap is finished, you fool," Grymmbolt snapped. "If it wasn't, you'd still be asleep, wouldn't you? It's finished because I finished it for you, numbskull. You can thank me later."
The lesser demon made a noise that may have been a growl, an insult, or wind. It was so very hard to tell. He followed it up with, "So what should Drain do now?"
"Why not sharpen your blades?" Grymmbolt suggested. "Or make some new ones."
Hector froze in place as Drain's eyes locked on him.
"Not with him," Beef said, the tone of his voice ensuring the order would be obeyed. The sheer control the gnome had over the demons was impressive.
"Fine," Drain said, before he skulked to the back of the classroom and picked up one of the most menacing blades Hector had ever seen. Not only was it sharp and covered in blood, gore, and Mortvell knew what else, but it was also made of something that sent fear through every inch of Hector.
It was made of bone.
"That's an interesting weapon," Hector said, as he tried to make his fear sound like curiosity.
"Don't worry, my friend," Beef said. "You're perfectly safe here."
"That's good to know. But why bone? Surely there are better materials to turn into blades?"
"If we were having this conversation anywhere else, I'd agree with you. But, as you're no doubt aware, Drain here is no ordinary bladesmith-"
"Drain is a better bladesmith than any topsider. Drain is smart," the lesser demon said, cutting Beef off.
"I'm almost afraid to ask," Hector said as he put as much space as possible between him and the lesser demon. It amazed him that the others seemed unbothered by the foul creature. "But where do the bones come from?"
"I won't lie to you." Beef's voice was slow and measured, every word spoken with purpose. "I respect you too much for that and, while we haven't known each other long, I have the feeling we will soon become firm friends. So, as much as I would like to say that the donors of all the bones in Drain's weaponry collection had died of natural causes, that isn't the case. While there were some like that, I'm afraid the others came from... other means."
The gnome paused, as if to wait for Hector to jump to the right conclusion.
"You're a smart man, Hector," Beef continued. "You can see that Drain is of the demonic persuasion. He's very loyal to us, but demons still have to do demon things at times."
"He murders people," Hector said, the words feeling oddly suffocating. It was one thing to see a weapon made of bone and think about it abstractly. It was quite another to have it confirmed that someone was likely murdered for it.
"Yes," Beef replied. "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine." There was really no other answer he could have given. He already knew too much about this wizard, these demons, and this so-called school. Saying he was uncomfortable would probably lead to him becoming Drain's new weapon, and Scratch would stay dead forever.
Panic threatened to claim him, and he was already starting to shake. It was only a matter of time before his bones started to rattle. He was neck deep in demon-infested waters and he couldn't swim... which was embarrassing for a former pirate. He wished Morga was there with him; she'd know what to do. Or even Carnage. Things were definitely bad if he was wishing Carnage to be there to settle his nerves. At least he knew where he stood with Carnage's chaos. Demonic chaos was something else.
Above all else, Hector knew that he couldn't trust anyone in that classroom, no matter how charming, clever, or interesting they may be. Necromancy could be dodgy, but Hector knew all too well that it could have positive applications. Demons, however, rarely led to anything good. They just led to chaos and eternal suffering... or, at least, that's what Hector assumed. Whether he was right or wrong in that assumption didn't matter, he just needed to learn what he needed to resurrect Scratch and then get far away from this bizarre school.
At that moment, an idea came to mind. A way to speed along his training.
"What of Drain's victims?" Hector asked. "Couldn't they - or whatever remains of them - be used to train me?"
"There's not usually enough of them to resurrect," Beef replied, his voice solemn.
"Drain obliterates!" the lesser demon said with no small degree of excitement. "OBLITERATES!"
Beef shot Drain a look that said 'shut up', so the demon went back to examining his blade.
"Welcome members of the Shadowed Order, today we will be covering spirits." Grymmbolt's voice filled the classroom and Hector's skull. To his surprise, her voice had a strange, sing-song quality that hadn't been there before. Hector instantly felt relaxed, despite sharing the room with two deadly demons. He even felt safe. Secure.
'I know this feeling,' he thought, 'I'm being enchanted.'
But as the spell took hold, he found he didn't really care.
*****
