Upon descending the crumbling steps that led down into the subterranean lair of Mulnok the Necromancer, Percival found a large desk with a large sign that read “Information.” A young woman sat at the desk, dressed rather scandalously in well-fitted pants and blouse. She scribbled at a piece of parchment with her quill.
Thinking she must be under some spell, Percival drew his sword with his right hand, summoning a ball of mana into his left, to be converted into what he most needed when the time came.
“Oh,” the young woman gasped, raising her hand to her mouth and splattering ink on her nose. “I’m so sorry. I was trying to finish the requisition request and the numbers just weren’t adding up and – well, never mind. How can I help you?”
Percival eyed her cautiously. “Are you under the control of the Necromancer?”
She smiled. “Oh, no! We sure have started on the wrong foot. I’m employed by the Organization for the Protection of Morally Divergent Creatures, Spirits, and Magical Beings. This is an official Morally Divergent Sanctuary. Welcome! We have maps, pins, and your admission fee can be applied to a membership that will grent you 30% off at the gift shop.”
Percival looked at her for a long time. “Then Mulnok the Necromancer is dead?”
“Well, technically, he’s undead. All liches are considered undead for the purpose of preservation and care, granting them special protections and accommodations.”
The ball of mana in Percival’s hand spluttered out. He struggled to find words. “I mean… has he been slain?”
“Oh, no, of course not! That’s what we’re here to prevent.”
“You would stop me from slaying him?”
The young woman pursed her lips as she looked at his sword. “Oh dear, what did they say in training?” she muttered. “Oh, yes!” She hurried around the desk and threw out her arms. “You wouldn’t hurt an innocent young girl, would you?”
Percival lowered his sword. “No. But the lich must be destroyed.”
“Why?”
“He is evil,” Percival declared.
“Morally divergent,” the woman corrected.
“He sold his soul to dark powers in exchange for eternal life.”
“Well, it’s his soul. He can do what he wants with it,” the woman pointed out.
“He has slain entire villages.”
“That’s one side of the story.”
“He killed king Leinan and–”
“Well, I’m sure the king wasn’t exactly innocent. Most kings aren’t.”
“He raised an army of undead soldiers that now dwells in his castle.”
“Undead are people, too. They have a right to affordable housing.”
“He is right now working on a spell that will open a portal to the Realm of Darkness, unleashing the ancient destroyer Gilgamon to tear our world asunder.”
“Wow.” The woman looked him over disdainfully. “Fearmonger much?”
Percival lifted his sword again. “I have spent three years constructing this blade. It is the only weapon capable of undoing the Necromancer’s foul curses. I will slay him.”
“That’s admirable, but I’m afraid your religious zeal doesn’t have a place in this sanctuary. I’m sorry you wasted the last three years, but you really should have contacted us before going on such an unnecessary adventure.”
Percival eyed the dank chamber beyond the Information Desk.
“Does the lich not still consume the life essence of others to maintain his power and vigor?”
“What he does is his own choice,” the young woman said primly. “We merely ensure that he is able to freely pursue his best self.”
“How many? How many has he sacrificed for his selfish ambitions?”
“I don’t keep count. Maybe Accounting does.”
Percival pointed his sword at the filing cabinets behind the desk.
“Well, it’s confidential.”
“How many?” he demanded.
She grunted in exasperation. “You are dull. Let’s just say we don’t have a lot of repeat visitors.” She lowered her voice and giggled. “The membership isn’t actually worth it.”
“Why are you protecting him?” Percival shouted.
The young lady, hands on hips, replied: “To protect him from people like you! If we let the likes of you do what you want there’d be no more liches. Why, there’d be no more dragons or demons or evil djinns. Oh, but you wouldn’t stop there, oh no, then you’d get rid of the bandit lords and the dread pirates and the goblin kings. In your world, everyone would be lawful good. Who would want to live in a world like that, with all the curses and witches and tyrants gone?”
“You don’t?” Percival asked.
“Wickedness and malice are authentic expressions of rational beings and should be protected,” she said defiantly.
Percival sheathed his sword. “Then I will never succeed. For even if I slay the lich and the troll and the wyrm, there will still be young ladies I cannot slay.”
With that he turned and slowly climbed the stairs, dejected.
“Hey, could you at least fill out a comment card?” Her voice went unanswered. “You’ll be entered into a raffle for a Lil Necromancer picture book!”
An hour later, Percival rushed down the stairs, past the Information Desk, past the skeleton security guards and the warded doors and slayed Mulnok the Necromancer, Terror of Three Kingdoms and Foul Sorcerer of Fangnort, as he listened bitterly to his assigned advocate tell him he was loved and valued just as he was.