It's said that three can keep a secret if two are dead.
"Talk."
Whoever coined that phrase has clearly never met an Amethyst.
"
Hnnrgh..."
"Answer my questions!" I glare menacingly at the disembodied soul.
"..."
It has no apparent effect.
"Are you dumb as well as dead?" The words echo with an unnatural cadence, reverberating through the chamber of my impromptu interrogation.
"
Technically, yes..." the soul drifts off.
What.
Muttering invectives, I turn to consult my spellbook.
Final Words: Ask one question of the recently dead
Oh. Right. Question, not command. That should've been obvious. And
of course the soul returned to rest after answering once. Now I'd have to cast the spell
again. Ugh.
"Well, that was a bust, but at least you tried. Good show, dear."
Wathilde Meber, ladies and gentlemen. Dame, Magister, and now Loremaster of Karak Seven Peaks. The Dämmerlichtreiter. The Sängerkritisch. Identified by the looming shadow spilling from her still armored robes, the slumbering man sized beast of a wolf at her feet, and the genuine witch hunter's hat crowning her head.
I am not intimidated. I'm not! So what if her sword has killed more beings than I've ever met? Totally fine. Really. Just means more
Shyish.
"I guess I'll have to find some other means to track that damned book. Oh! Before you go, do you want another cookie?"
I'm going to die.
---
Gretel, while I can appreciate the efforts you take to write out the beastmen
Gretel, that was nothing like our first meeting. and
Gretel, I must ask WHY YOU INCLUDED THE LIBER MORTIS
Frustrated, Mathilde crossed out the beginning of her review again. This was starting to give her a headache.