Damon gave a slight bow. “It’s an honour to be in your presence duke of Carline, this humble one is Damon ke Stolas.”

“Yes, and I am Donnello duke of Carline, I will count on you to instruct my son in the ways of alchemy. You will also act as his tutor in the ways of the world. I’m sure a mage of your calibre would be best to instruct him in cruelty of the world.”

Damon nodded; the veiled language was needed when walls had ears.

“I wanted to get a look at you first.” Continued the duke, “before I entrust you my son I at least wanted to see if a ruined elvish noble would be suitable for him. So far, I am pleased, although I want to see more, I will grant you your first month’s salary as a sign of my goodwill.” The duke placed a small pouch on the table.

They were currently in a small study. Two guards standing behind Damon, and three behind the duke.

“I will show you to my son.”

Damon followed the duke and his five guards. One man walked next to the duke on both sides, one trailed behind Damon, and the two others led the way. The duke proceeded up the circular staircase and knocked on the second door to the right. “Your tutor has come.”

He opened the door and Damon saw a room the size of a house and enough furniture for five. A golden chandelier lit the room, a tinted oak wood bed frame supported a bed which looked to be filled with feathers, in the far-left corner there was a lounge area with four sofa’s a large table garnished with food and decorated with orchids and lilies.

In the right corner of the room, a fifteen- to sixteen-year-old boy sat in his chair which had velvet padding. He read a book. It was placed on a book stand made of a beautifully cut single piece of wood.

The boy turned around and the duke gestured to Damon. “This is Damon ke Asmodeus, he will be your alchemical teacher from today one. Remember what I said. Now I must go.”

The five guards left with the duke and the young boy was left with Damon, it seemed that he either trusted people to easily or he didn’t care about his third son all that much, probably the latter. No, this world should keep at least three sons in reserve. Perhaps Stolas signed a contract with him, he is a demon after all, well I am one as well. No, half a demon. But then again, I’m also half-dark elf, and I was once human. But perhaps earth humans aren’t the same as the ones here. Who knows if DNA is the building blocks of living beings here? And if there are two identical beings in looks, thoughts, and desires. But one is built from DNA and the other from Magic, shouldn’t they be classified as entirely different species.

Damon heard a book close. He remembered why he’d come here, as such, he greeted the boy with a courteous bow. “If I may introduce myself. I am Damon ke Stolas your new tutor in the ways of alchemy.”

The boy stood up from the chair. His black hair was parted in the middle, he stood with an overly straight back, and a smug look on his face. “I appreciate my father’s concern; however, I can learn it myself.”

An arrogant piece of shit. I should have known. Damon cleared his throat to look more distinguished, although it perhaps just made him look sick. “Is that so, well if it’s true then I will just leave? But before that you should at least prove it no. Let’s head to the alchemy lab.” This alchemy lab was a separate building which used to be a gardening shed they converted to an alchemy labortory.

Damon followed his first student through the lavish garden into an enclave surrounded by bushes and flowers. They entered a small ‘shed’ almost as big as a house. The interior was filled with basic and intermediate level alchemical ingredients; they weren’t specific to black magic.

The teenager turned to Damon; a smug expression plastered on his face. “Just sit and watch.”

Damon stayed on the side and observed Fergulio. The kid took some goblin blood to use as a base, crushed some ox testis with some restraint, causing it to turn into a paste with small chunks of balls. He added more herbs and flowers, acid, and other ingredients.

Although his technique was lacking in many aspects, Damon was surprised that the duke had access to black magic books on curses.

The boy cast a spell to create the curse and presented it to Damon with pride. Damon didn’t know how to react. This boy couldn’t have a level any higher than two in black magic; however, he brimmed with excitement. And it’s not like the people thought level 2 was impressive, any peasant you plucked from the fields probably had one magical skill at the third level. The pride here probably came from the fact that black magic had been scorned and any knowledge on it was burned and disposed of. Perhaps to Fergulio, black magic was a hidden and mystic art which towered above the others. Well, he should probably ask instead of creating conjectures.

“Oh, and this is?” asked Damon.

The boy snorted, “a powerful and dangerous curse which leads others to have migraines. It may even cause death. That’s why black magic should be destroyed or at least suppressed.”

It was this kid thinking or just regurgitating what he’d read in his books.

“Could I see the book from which you learned how to make such a great potion?”

“Sure.” The boy left and came back with a thin book. It was called ‘The secrets of the black arts,’ Damon flipped through the few pages and set it on the table. The book only had four curse potions and nothing else. It spoke of necromancy and had a reanimation spell; however, it didn’t have any other instructions. In a world without the printing press, withholding information wasn’t too hard.

Damon wondered how this boy thought he’d improve with just this book, “So, what do you know about level three black magic and above?”

“It’s necromancy, each level you’ll be able to make stronger undead, and the curses you make will aswell.”

“But you don’t have the spells for the higher levels. How will you find them?”

“When you do enough black magic, a demon will come and teach you the spells.”

What kind of bull is written in these books? Well, it is the Middle Ages, I should have expected as much. Damon thought about it, but saying, ‘Just wait a demon will come teach you’ is a good way to suppress the learning of black magic. “I must say Fergulio, that’s simply not true.”

“How can you know?”

What a fucking idiot. Would your father employ a fire mage to teach you black magic? I think this guy just wants to think he’s special or something.

“I am also a black mage and I learned through books…” Well, I’ll lie for the greater good.

“Prove it then. The other tutors could only do just as much as me.”

Oh, well that’s true, there are probably a lot of imposters. Then I will withhold my judgment of this kid for a bit longer.

Damon decided to go big, well small in practice, but big in concept. “Do you have the corpse of a rodent or small humanoid?”

“No why?”

Damon wondered what his intelligence stat was, and how much influence it had on actual intelligence, whatever that was.

“Necromancy.”

Fergulio’s eyes bulged, “You can make an undead?”

“Yes, I don’t know about your other tutors, but I’m being paid to teach you black magic, so I will teach you black magic.”

“I’ll go tell my dad to get one.” Fergulio started to run.

Damon held him back, wait. To do necromancy you need a good corpse, if he just goes and takes a corpse at the adventurer’s guild they’ll probably be mangled and wrecked. Since we’ll use a lot of them, it’s better to work out the details later.”

“But I want to see an undead.”

“They aren’t anything special, be patient or else the priests will have your head.”

The boy stopped moving, although spoiled he still understood the prejudice against black mages.

Damon went and took a few ingredients from the counter. He started to brew the same potion as Fergulio. His movements were precise and intentional. He did his craft with an unnatural level of concentration and care. Not a single drop of blood fell onto the table or tainted his sleeves and the testis became a smooth pinkish-white paste.

A few minutes later a dark red potion which sparkled under the dim light of the alchemical laboratory came into existence. Damon placed it next to Fergulio’s creation.

“Before you start making undead, maybe learn to make a potion.”

“It looks like blood,” said Fergulio as he admired the rich looking liquid inside the flask.

“Because it is, I don’t know what you did to yours to be honest.”

“OK I’ll learn, you don’t seem half bad,” said Fergulio.

He accepted it rather easily. Well, he does seem enthusiastic to learn, he’s just a bit arrogant.

“First, I want you to practise your basic alchemical skills such as the hammer and pestle, precision cuts, and measurements. I’ll show you how to do it once again, then you’ll practise till you’re done. In a week you should be able to make a lesser grade potion.”

Fergulio nodded and looked at Damon who explained the different techniques as he went. Fergulio then tried his hands at it; however, his coordination wasn’t the greatest. The nobles didn’t seem to write much since they had scribes for that and this kid didn’t learn swordsmanship, so he had difficulty being precise with the tools.

“The sun is setting; we should go back.”

“Yes, please, my legs are going stiff, and my wrists are soar.”

“You want to quit?”

“I just slept in a bad position.”

“Then sleep in the good one tonight,” said Damon. He escorted the kid back to the mansion and asked to speak to the head butler. An old maid guided him to a lounge area and brought tea and stale crackers.

Fifteen minutes later the duke came instead of the butler. Damon got up and gave a noble like greeting.

“My son told me that you aren’t a fake.”

“Of course, our sect is the top on the continent.” You couldn’t escape bad sales reps even in fantasy worlds. He might have to make a sign which read ‘apostle’ if he ever got a house.

“He also said you require other materials,” continued the duke.

Damon nodded, “Yes, a major branch of this alchemy consists of the creation of the undead, for this we require fresh, and barely damaged corpses. By that I mean an intact skeleton. For your son’s level, we would require small rodents and small humanoid creatures such as goblins or kobolds.”

“How many does he need?”

Damon wanted to record the incoming reaction. “Well, it depends on how often the client wishes to practise. For the first month, we would require five small rodents a day and one small humanoid per week. After that one small humanoid and two rodents per day would do.”

The duke in elaborate clothes stared at the wall beyond the wall, Damon could also see his fingers moving. Looks like nobles don’t know how to count awfully well. “That would make one hundred and fifty rodents and thirty small humanoids for the first month, and thirty humanoids and sixty rodents the second month.”

“That many? Are you making an undead army?” Although the man withheld some of his emotions, if Damon hadn’t taken the persona of a noble, the duke would have given him a lashing and kicked him out.

Damon kept his cool, “To make an undead you need to remove a corpse’s epidermis, muscles, organs, and other miscellaneous parts of the body. This is both required to harvest materials, study the body, and to harvest the skeleton to create an undead. If one is talented enough and can reach level 8 in black magic, a black mage can create a living dead. To do so one needs to know the inner workings of a body just as well as a swordsman knows his blade and how to swing it.”

The duke still had a questioning look, so Damon continued.

“If you wish to see it, I can show you what I’m talking about. I just need two small humanoid corpses.”

The duke nodded. “Then tomorrow, at seventeen hundred I’ll bring two goblin corpses.”

Damon bowed. “Your understanding is magnanimous.”

Damon went back to the small house in the garden. This would be his new house. He started to unpack his tools and equipment. He opened the small coin pouch with this month’s salary. There were ten gold coins. It seems like working for a duke wasn’t half bad, especially when food, housing, and the materials were given free of charge.

Damon had spoken enough for today, as such he went to bed. And for the first time in a few years, he had a bed not made of hay or straw. It felt extremely comfortable, and he fell asleep near instantly.

Damon awoke with the sun. Although he slept well, being in his transformed state for a month made his back and feet feel soar. He also had a slight headache, but that was neither here nor there. He went inside the cellar and undid his body transformation. His wings and horns grew out of his body and his feet morphed into talons. These parts had become hot and sweaty. He laid on the cool wooden floor with his wings sprawled out on the floor. The cold morning breeze passed through the gaps in the bricks, and wooden planks. With this the urge to perch on a branch also arose; however, he’d have to resist it for the night and perhaps even a year.