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Five hundred ninety-two, it was this number that still remained in the ancient ruins of Castle Drearburh. Of these four hundred twenty-eight had been born on the ninth house and a hundred sixty-three had traveled across the Nine Houses to join their traditions. This left out one, the only one not of a house but still very much present in it. The building that once had stood tall as a stark divider against the rock that made up much of the rest of the grounds, had in the following myriad crept further into the rockface.
The countless tunnels and hallways that made up the majority of the abandoned site were covered with a layer of dust that had started to solidify until some unfortunate soul stepped through it for the first time in many centuries. It was in these hallways that harrow found herself tracking down some archaic note that had been left in the margins of another even more archaic book in her mother’s family’s library.
There was no hope for her to pass on her blood to the next generation as she kept track of the slowly tinning population that was officially still under her mother’s control. Nearly everyone under the age of forty was dead, had left or was nowhere near competent enough to guarantee this to happen. No, for her there was only the cold embrace of ice to look forward too.
A day that she was trying her damndest to push further into the infinite future. Opening another metal grate, she peered into the chamber that was located underneath it. There were some traces of bones, old and nearly completely sapped of any necrotic energy. Nonetheless Harrow raised them into a makeshift ladder as she descended the bones. Even here, nearly a mile from the closest surface opening dust had coated the entire cell. From the way it was decorated, or lack of such items, Harrow put it in the fifth millennium traditions of the House.
Letting the skeletons rummage through the rubble that had started to form whenever the far wall collapsed, she was focused on the remainders of a bookshelf. There, still preserved if aged tremendously, was one of the missing volumes she had spent the past week looking for.
Carefully she bound it in bone as she raised it out of the cell and onto the floor of the hallway above. With the skeletons not finding anything useful she let them decay back to whatever remains they had been before as the necrotic energy fainted. Holding the book in both hands she made haste back to the library. Possibly the only space that she didn’t feel a constant dread pressing down on herself.
It was only when she opened the door that she was greeted by her captain of the guard. Aiglamene was in her opinion the only sane mind left in the Ninth house. Though that didn’t make the following question any less irritating.
“Reverent daughter, may I inquire when you last took rest?” it wasn’t a question, both of them knew as much. Tradition can shield those that are placed at the top from many of the meaningless notions that the massed had to deal with when not lead by one of the enlightened. However, this enlightened had been up and about for the better part of six cycles. The bell had run nearly eighteen hundred times since her search had been headed off.
“Captain,” she greeted her as she passed her by and placed the bone cocoon on her desk next to some loose notes that didn’t appear as much more than errant scribbles filling even the smallest spaces. “I can assure you I’m working fine.”
The raised scar said more than either of them would ever admit to have happened between them. She placed both hands on the desk to keep herself upright, bones were not the heaviest material she worked with but now, standing still, she became painfully aware of the mass that had started to atrophy nearly solid the longer she remained immobile. The filling silence told her that this wasn’t just an excuse to check in on her.
“Is there anything else I need to be aware of?” Harrow questioned as she stared to map out the shortest route from here to her cell. It wasn’t particularly difficult the five hallways and two staircases were as much of a straight shot one could find in Castle Drearburh.
“Two more nuns have passed,” she left a pause as if the following was going to be any more surprising. Five hundred and ninety now, the ever-dwindling numbers were creeping towards none slowly. She would have to go down and see if there was any remaining family that she would have to help grieve as the bodies would be taken apart meticulously in all the different parts that would be used for the following decades to do the upkeep on the building and surrounding grounds. Some twenty skeletons she got to raise and automate to take on the most exhaustive tasks that the aging population was nowhere near strong or large enough for.
“Nav tried to escape again,” it was said in passing as Aiglamene gave her a look. She knew the look, it had been there when she had declared the ninth house closed for pilgrims, it had been there when she read out the repeated vow of silence her parents kept for just another year. It was the look she gave when she had almost murdered Griddle the past couple of times as punishment for trying to escape the house.
“I’ll handle it,” was all she said as she rose a skeleton out of sight to head down to the lowest levels of Drearburh. Another look but no words were spoken as her captain bowed as well as her bones allowed. It was when she was alone that she closed her eyes for a moment. The skeleton had found the old staircase and started to descent, as she moved mindlessly towards the bench that she had happened upon in another search of the ruins of her House.
It was the legacy her parents had saddled her with as they hung themselves when she had told them the last true thing she would say to them. For nine thousand nine hundred ninety-two years the Tomb had been locked. Spare her own visits nearly no-one even knew how to get in, let alone knew who had been in there.
The two remaining living souls were herself and griddle, the girl two years her senior and the reason why her parents were now decaying puppets in their shared cell. It was her that caused the hardship that was pushing her to not only find a way out of the inevitable death of the house, but also to preserve the watch over the tomb until such time the Emperor himself would return. Up until that time she had to handle it, like she was handling Griddle.
The Skeleton had reached the closed cell that held the body of her antithesis. Where she was surrounded with the comforting cold of bones Griddle was warm almost glowing as she swung around her idiotic sword as Aiglamene ordered her through her drills. Pushing open the looking hole she dropped one phalange into the cell. Nearly instantly it was stomped to dust.
“Asshole,” it was the only sound that came out of her as she stood up and pulled the looking hole close again, “maim me another time.” With that silence filled the air again.
Dragging her towards her cell she added the request to her thoughts as she laid down on the wooden cod that hadn’t been comfortable ever. She closed her eyes as the voices started to speak up, it wasn’t as bad as it had been in the beginning. What had been the cries of babies and horrific screams of toddles had made way of the grief of teenagers and sadness of those that never lived to see another day.
The bell rang sharply as her eyes opened again. There was no light that came down this far at this time of year. Even so the darkness was comforting, far below the necrotic mass that sustained the farmland that fed the house started to start moving again. Here again Harrow was painfully aware of the slow decay of energy that every subsequent cycle called for. It was a piece of art in her opinion the efficiency that her theorems managed to work with so little energy. The only problem she still had to eliminate was the upfront amount of necrotic energy that fueled these skeletons.
Scrubbing off the face paint she had applied the last time she had woken up. She reached out for the metal container that contained the pale pigment that had been present on her face from as early as she could remember. In the days that her great aunts had applied the paint in ancient designs that had been present all the way back to the founding of the Ninth House.
Finishing up her decorations she donned the black robes that made up the majority of her outfit in her official position as the acting head, and scion to the Ninth House. Layering bone along her spine and extending around her ribcage supplying her with fresh bone should she need it.
Heading down to the church via the private entrance she emerged onto a hidden balcony up in the apse. Present where her great-aunts were already in position and praying with their bone-beads in hand. Sitting with them she repeated the words that had been bestowed upon her as the keepers of the tomb.
It was only when the next bell rang that she descended down to the floor as she met with the remaining living population of the Ninth House. Here the remaining family of the deceased nuns met her and paid their respects to the devotion they showed for the House and their Necrolord Prime.
Between the lines Harrow found out that one of them had been of the House and the other had traveled to join them nearly a century ago. Four hundred and seven of the house and a hundred and sixty-two that had joined their fate. Again, the pressing issue of the dying population was made clear to herself. Excusing herself she made her way back to the library as she started to read through the missing volume.
Glancing up again as the next bell rang, she had been starting with an intense confusion at a diagram that by all accounts shouldn’t be doing anything that was described below it. On a sheet of paper, she had broken down the diagram into the ninety-four basic shapes that would ordinarily make up this diagram.
The text accompanying it spoke of a process that would aid in the workings of a sort of pumping system that hadn’t been in working order for many centuries. But as she cross referenced the different shapes, it didn’t seem to have anything to do with it. Leaning back, she picked at the gray nutrition paste that had been sent up from the kitchens.
Glancing over at a large piece of shale attached to the wall she noted the ever-decreasing potential necrotic energy that the Ninth House had access too. With two nuns’ death at the age of a hundred twenty-four and hundred fifty-six, the number of cycles till null was again moved back by at least twenty-four and at most thirty-seven.
She’d have to recalculate the amount at the end of the month anyway so for now she left it. The date that had been underlined still stood at the ten thousand two hundred and fifty sixth year of the King Undying, the kindly Prince of Death. Taking cycles into account the last skeleton should fall on the fifty to seventy cycle of the year.
This, however, was far beyond the expected lifespan of herself and anyone else present on the Ninth House. Which was an everlasting problem as the Tomb needed a keeper that would hold watch over The Locked Tomb.
Descending the stairs, she found herself outside of the cell that held Griddle. Inside there was noise of someone breathing. She knew who was inside and for a moment she rejected the thought of reaching for the door. No, for now she sat down with her back against the hallway wall just listening to the only outlier in the Ninth House’s census.
Not of the house, nor traveled from the other houses to join them. From the account that had been written down years ago. Griddle had been plucked from the grasp of a dying woman. The full attempt to bind her soul back to her body to get clarification had only served as a name. One that the escaping problem had taken as her own.
“I would have gotten away with it,” the voice was muffled inside the cell. She didn’t respond, there was no need as she listened Gideon explain how she had discovered a long-abandoned shoot that had been punched all the way up to the surface of the Ninth House. The flaw that had eventually stopped her in her track was the lack of any oxygen near the top of the climb. She had slid down the shoot and had been found by crux nearly a day later.
“…that he’s just a shitty necromancer, there is no way that there is anything still working underneath his skin…” the rambling had been nearly non-stop as Harrow had closed her eyes just listening. The voices were still there but now there was a buffer as Gideon filled the air with nonsense. Harrow knew she had to punish her for her escape attempt but for now she was just going to rest her eyes for a moment.