Lessons With A Lich (Dead City)

Chapter 1

As it turned out, being one of the most renowned necromancers in Daosbor did not preclude me from first-day-of-class anxiety.

I was thirty years old—going back to study and hone my craft further should not be this distressing.

The butterflies were there, though—uninvited guests as I walked through the halls of the Royal Academy of Necromancy in the Dead City.

All of the Dead City was beautiful, but I'd always loved the Academy the most. Its dark, winding halls were full of shadows and deep, brooding colors. The massive library housed some of the oldest tomes in Domhan na Rùin, and I couldn't wait to get my hands on them. Carefully, of course.

My heels clicked on the marble floors as I made my way down yet another corridor.

The schedule the Academy administrator had given me hadn't been particularly clear about where I might actually find each of the classrooms, unfortunately.

My eyes darted down the hall searching for the right number above one of the doors.

Just my luck, the furthest one appeared to be correct.

I glanced at my pocket watch—I'd be exactly on time.

I lengthened my steps, hurrying for the door, and strode into the classroom. It was full of chatting necromancers. No one even looked up as I came in, thankfully, and I slipped into a seat at one of the long tables at the very back of the room.

It had been years since I'd last been in school, and even then, I had attended a smaller mage college on the southern coast. Now I found myself here to pursue a master's certification and take my career in a more academic direction.

I was a gifted battle mage, and had served in Daosbor's royal guard for nearly six years.

I'd even earned myself the title "Flame of the South" because of my ability to leverage necrotic energy as fire.

My heart, however, was always with my books, and I longed to write and study and research.

Just as I settled and pulled out my notebook, quill, and ink pot, the sound of a throat clearing at the front of the room caused me to look up.

The man that stood at the lectern was…striking, to say the least. His silver hair was perfectly smooth and tidy, and his cheekbones were dramatically sharp with a pronounced jawline.

He was tall, leanly muscled, and looked out at the gathered necromancers with an air of confidence and command that had heat rising to my cheeks.

Old gods save me, I could not possibly be immediately lusting after my professor.

He looked to be at least fifteen years my senior, if not more.

He also looked…very good.

He surveyed the class coming to order as I openly ogled him, and—to my eternal mortification—his eyes flicked to mine. I looked away as quickly as possible, but I knew he had seen me staring. I needed to find a hole somewhere to crawl into, it would seem. Or a puddle to melt into.

"Hello, all, and welcome to your first day of Advanced Necrotic Battle Magic.

I am Professor Benedict Excidium. I know this is not the first class at the Royal Academy for some of you, but for those just joining our ranks, we extend a warm welcome.

I am excited to embark on a season of learning about the intricacies of our magic with you all.

We will begin our studies primarily here in the classroom, but we will spend some time on practical applications later on.

Does anyone have any questions about the syllabus I provided? "

I knew he was talking about something important to the class, but I was so transfixed by his lovely accent that I barely processed the words he was saying. The rustling of pages finally snapped me out of it—everyone around me was turning to a specific page in their books.

I somehow managed to focus during the rest of the class, mostly by keeping my eyes down on my notes.

Every time I looked up at him, my mind veered off into fantasies that were truly delusional.

He was my professor. Despite the fact that I was a grown adult, I highly doubted someone as distinguished as the professor would have any interest in me.

I supposed it didn't mean I couldn't have interest in him.

The rest of the day, my nerves stayed relatively calm, my thoughts instead occupied with daydreams of what someone with his…experience might be like.