Necromancy Isn't Necessarily Evil

If you were to search for Necromancer in the imperial dictionary, you’d find Alexander von Harring’s picture stamped in there instead of text. He was the model of evil raiser of the dead, with sunken cheeks, hollowed stern eyes, and a set of bony hands. This was Alexander as he stood over a broken vase with a gray mist rapidly coalescing, He was currently in the quick action of throwing on a plain set of trousers and pants, as he finished up and snapped on his small round spectacles, a familiar form finished forming to reveal the summoned form of the department head.

Her stern hawkish face was a baleful reflection of his cheeky grin. While Alexander was dressed in commoners' clothes, Department Head Ravenlowe wore the iconic gray robes and grimoire strapped to her belt. In her hand was the key to the office, a scythe with a raven skull as a cap.

“I can’t help but wonder why I keep detecting unauthorized soul magics radiating from your lab Mr. Harring” Her words were clear and sharp and did absolutely nothing to wipe away his grin.

“Ma’am I couldn’t begin to guess why that would be, and I certainly wouldn’t want to even begin to extrapolate why.” He paused to set a small spell to jot down notes in his grimoire before continuing, “I’m feeling surprisingly parched, would you like some tea?”

At this she slammed a fist on the nearby desk, “Mr. Harring do you realize that use of the colleges' rare magical regents is only supposed to be used in confirmed and sponsored experiments.”

“I’ve found that coffee is far too bitter for delicate work and have found myself a more refined taste in the drinking of tea,” Even though his back was turned he could hear the low growl from Mrs. Ravenlowe. It was true that he knew her first name and had used it in the past, though he had not for many years now. Ever since his pupil had graduated and earned the rank of Department Head, he’d used her last name, a fact she’d complained about over the years.

“You do realize that dignitaries from the other schools are here today, yes? Add to that the fact that I asked you in particular to keep the over-the-top research to a minimum,” ranting on, “Never mind the blasted paladin orders and the Emperor's guards joining in on the fun!”

Alexander stopped for a moment before responding, “The Paladins and Gaurds are here as well?” He knew well from experience that the Paladins were loath to come onto the ‘cursed’ and ‘unholy’ grounds that was the College of Necromancy, so it was much to his surprise that they would come to join this year's inspection.

Undeterred Ravenlowe continued, “And to add more kindling to the fire, you start on again with your inane phylactery studies only an hour before they are to show!”.

He turned around, with a tea set in hand, to see her gesturing towards a shriveled corpse that resembled Alexander. It was a facet of his experiment to see if alternatives to the standard power sources to power greater necromantic magics, to greater success, though it proved an issue when determining where the sources would come from. His experiments with demons, animals, plants, and even intelligent undead had all fallen through, though he had managed to compile a list of rune variants for a phylactery to change the power required vs time to revive.

Ravenlowe let out a sigh and sat down on the sofa to the side of his lab. To be frank, it was also his home, and he spent more time in the basic accommodations than in his own house. She let her shoulders droop and relaxed into the chair as Alexander quietly poured tea for them both.

“Alex we need to make a good impression today, the dignitaries are about to arrive, and with them holding more sway with the Emperor now that we ever have…” she trailed off letting the implications hang in the air. He sipped his tea while imagining the various issues that could arise, cut funding, privileges handed to other colleges, or in the extreme case of disbanding the college.

“Are the clergy still pushing to have our work censored?” He questioned.

She nodded, “harder than ever, I don’t know the last time you went out in public but we receive more derision by the day and the requirements to wear easily identifiable markers of our college is not helping.”

Alexander's face morphed into a small scowl at that, a political move by the other colleges to highlight the widely disapproved Necromancers. His frown deepened when a low rumble shook the room, which also caused Ravenlowe to rise quickly and nearly cause his last remaining experimental phylactery to fall off its shelf.

“I need to check the disturbance out, I can feel the radiant magic here.” her voice was marred with concern, “Also attune and hide your phylactery, I know you just broke your most recent attempt.”

Alexanders gave a mirthless chuckle, “Dear I may be getting on in age but I still remember to always have a phylactery active.” at that, they split off with Ravenlowe dissipating into fog and Alexander marching over to his newest phylactery.

It was a poor showing of a phylactery with the example being the most extreme form of time vs mana cost he could make. His estimates put the time to revive at close to a century without outside injections of mana. He took out a pocket knife and sliced his hand to bleed on the phylactery and waved his other hand in a complex pattern that caused the urn to glow. He finished by grabbing his grimoire and flipping it open to a ‘borrowed’ teleportation spell and sending it to one of his many hidden safe storages.

Emergency phylactery - grumbling at the idea of having to wait a century or until one of his students found it to revive - he teleported to the college’s main foyer.

The once splendorous entrance which had paintings lining the walls whilst students wandered through to different classes, now the whole room was a smoking ruin with holes blown in walls and frost and ice rimming some walls. The most attention-grabbing fact was that Ravenlowe was standing at one end with combat spell formations hanging in the air around her glimmering in blues, oranges, and purples. The second most attention-grabbing was a line of the Emperor's guards and paladins of the many different orders with mages from the different colleges ready with their spell formations as well.

Alexander stood gobsmacked watching from the side of the hall as the two sides stood waiting, that was until one paladin, with gold inlays and extravagant runes covering his armor, stepped forward.

“By decree of Emperor Balas under the guidance of Abtorrs Oracle, SURRENDER HERETICS OR FACE THE WRATH OF THE PANTHEON”, His voice bellowed outwards and filled the hall. Alexander noted the voice came from a particularly old thorn in his side. Marshall Cadmus, Templar Witch-hunter of the Pantheon of the gods.

Ravenlowe countered, “This censure is unlawful and you know this, does the pride of the Templars know no end?” At this some of the opposing mages shuffled, most likely remembering the cold and hateful rivalry that the colleges and orders had maintained for years. Sadly their will was reaffirmed when Cadmus spoke.

“The foul Necromancers and their unholy practices lecture the Witch hunters on pride, whilst you cavort with demons and devils for infernal power! No, as is decreed we shall remove your foul presence…” Cadmus lowered his tone, “Destroy these traitors and heretics men, for the good of the empire”.

Alexander was in shock, this was unlike any censure that had ever happened before, even the harshest punishments levied were the purging of corrupt or possessed leaders and officials. This rose above and beyond any offense that came before, and for once in a long time Alexander was dumbfounded by how this could have happened. For all the disagreements between the College and the Church, the Emperor had always remained a neutral party with his decrees being for the best of the empire. He was considered a stern but fair man, passing impartial and well-thought-out judgment. Now he had essentially ordered the Templars and Mage Colleges to wipe out the School of Necromancy, and Alexander just couldn’t piece together why.

Alexanders stunned shock didn’t stop time, and so the mages one and all released their spells. Fireballs, force bolts, rays of light, and every flavor of magic flew from the assembled paladins and mages. All of that firepower screamed toward the department head and defacto Arch Magus Ravenlowe, she had achieved that lofty goal just over a decade ago marking her expertise and knowledge of not just the necromantic arts but all of magic. This allowed her to release her spell forms in tandem with her opponents and hastily raise a barrier. The force of the oncoming spells fractured and cracked the mage's shield and forced her back step by step. This effect was reflected in the invaders as their shields cracked as red beams and flaming skulls crashed into the paladins’ holy shield, some paladins were forced back, and others' shields failed being struck down for it. Only Cadmus stood strong even as a large crack split down his glowing barrier. He leveled his decorated spear at Ravenlowe, a soft white light began to emanate from the tip and traveled down the spear. Ravenlowe, forced on the backfoot by a continuous barrage from the lesser mages, never saw the lance until it was far too late. A shining lance shot from the spear and burst through the already weakened shield.

“CASSANDRA!” Alexander screamed out as he saw Cassandra, his greatest pupil, student of 8 years, and fond coworker struck down before his eyes. He watched as blood sprayed from a hole in her chest, the light fading from the once curious and always inquisitive eyes. A girl he considered practically family died before his eyes. He had seen her die before, Necromancers were want to do that, but never had a soul trap been deployed before. Her soul was ripped from her body, a vaguely similar shape yet readily losing form, and was pulled screeching towards Cadmus and into a small gem set on the chest piece of his armor.

At this Alexander saw red, literally, as in response to this grave action he formed and released a wave of red energies. They flowed forward leaving anything in their path as nothing but dust, it crashed against the weakened shields of the paladins and broke. The wave rolled over the men leaving their enchanted armor to clatter to the ground leaking dust and ash. It stopped on the quickly erected barriers by his fellow mages. This left only Cadmus forced to his knees and a cracked and flickering shield fading away. Although The mages were pale and exhausted from the altercation with Ravenlowe… no Cassandra. Cadmus rose shakily to his feet, his eyes burning with hatred.

Alexander was weakened as well, spells of such magnitude cast quickly drew upon the already drained life force to stabilize and hold the complex spell that chaotic mana just couldn’t hold. Weakened as he was by the resurrection and hefty spell he fell to his knees as the world around him spun, and if anything was left in his stomach would have most certainly spilled onto the ground.

In the moments he took to catch his breath and reorient himself, he didn’t see Cadmus stride over to him and stab his spear in and out of his shoulder, flooding his body and soul with foreign binding mana.

“Alexander you old bastard, ohh how I have waited for the day I would be finally allowed to put you down like the diseased animal you are.” Cadmus’ voice was filled with joy and fiery passion, “And when you are dead, we will burn this infernal holding to ash and ruin”. Alexander gazed upwards through the haze of pain and looked deep into the man's eyes. They were filled not with glorious zealotry or determined purpose but with fire and old ruins, charred grounds, and ashen trees.

Alexander knew what he had to do, he had seen what happens when you die by the spear of the Wtich hunter, and tapped his grimoire. Necromancy had long discovered how to resurrect using phylacteries even outside of lichdom, and with it came the spells to purge souls of foreign mana, curses, and eventually death. This is what he did to escape the fanatics' soul-stealing gem. Green fire erupted from Alexander's body, forcing Cadmus back, and burning away his flesh and bone to ash as it purged his soul of the invasive mana and released him from his mortal coil. As Alexander’s soul was pulled away was Cadmus raging and releasing a wave of fire that incinerated his beloved school.