A Delicate Matter
Julia demands her sister's aid regarding her latest peculiar love affair.
I have made it to day five of writing a story a day! This is the first time I’ve ever tried to write an epistolary story, so it was a nice stab at something new.
Dearest Clementia,
I do apologise for my lack of letters recently, I hope you will not consider me an uncaring sister. Things have been terribly busy around here (as they always are in the city) and I haven’t had a chance to sit down in my study and write to you.
After the late Emperor’s passing, Father has had to distance himself from many of his old friends. I was rather worried his association might damage my own reputation, but I appear to be unscathed so far. Father tried to curry favour with Emperor Egnatius and his mother last month, although it didn’t go as planned. He had imported ten zebras for the Emperor’s coronation, but unfortunately eight of the beasts perished in the voyage, and despite adding saddlebags of jewels to the surviving two, I have heard the Emperor was not best pleased. Father’s enemies (I assume you know the people I am referring to) spread rumours that they were merely painted horses, but thankfully such nonsense gained no traction. Father is pursuing legal action against the captain who transported the animals, but I suspect nothing will come of it.
Mother is still away in Zyrholla, fighting the good fight. I hear her legion has taken a major city, though I admit I cannot remember which - all the names are dreadfully strange sounding and far too similar to one another. I expect once we have conquered the place we shall give all of them more suitable names.
I myself have been beset by issues. You may notice the messenger is not my usual freedman, Ghorlas. Gholas has come down with a fever, as has half my household, so I have had to beg Silius to have this letter delivered by one of his freedmen. He has vineyards down in the countryside (near Palisium) and luckily he had to send messages of his own in your direction.
Thus, as I’m sure you can imagine, I do not want to go into detail about my troubles. Silius’ freeman seems like a good sort, but the risk is too great. Suffice to say I have a delicate matter to discuss with you, one that can really only be discussed in person. My work at the treasury would make it difficult to visit you, so I would greatly appreciate it if you could come to the city post haste. I trust you can pause your rest and relaxation for a short while.
Even aside from the delicate matter mentioned above, I would love to see you! It has been far too long. I cannot wait for you to regale me with tales from the countryside. Perhaps we could even discuss any investments I can make in the area. Although my personal life is in tatters, my finances remain excellent.
The rabbits are thriving - one of my slaves has built a huge play area for them in the second courtyard. The bun-buns miss you, as do I.
Your loving sister,
Julia
Dear Julia,
No.
Delicate matter, my arse. The last delicate matter I came rushing back to the city for was when you fell in love with some poet. Not only was he married, but he was also sentenced to death. Forgive me if I do not want to listen to your ravings about rescuing someone with sleep darts and body doubles again.
I applaud your caution regarding the messenger, but I really don’t care to play the game of keeping up appearances. Unless you have angered Silius (which is entirely possible, now I think of it), he would not command his messenger to open your post, and not every freedman is a disloyal foreigner.
With that out of the way, I wish you would not waste words talking about our parents as if I give a damn about their lives. It sounds like father is the same bootlicker he ever was and mother is no doubt enjoying sticking swords in anyone who can’t speak our language. Considering you always fall for artistic or dangerous types, it is always a surprise to me you still follow in our parents' footsteps. Ever the good citizen of the Empire, aren’t you?
I am not in the countryside for rest and relaxation. I do not know if you wrote that for the messenger’s eyes or if you really imagine all I do is lounge about or go for long walks. There is plenty of work for people like me in the countryside, away from all the rules and regulations of the city. I am happy here. I also have plenty of money to live comfortably (albeit not “order ten zebras as a present” comfortably), so no need to dangle “investments” in front of me like I am some starving peasant. If you want to see you, come see me.
I am glad the rabbits are thriving.
Your destitute, country bumpkin sister,
Clementia
Dear Clementia,
Ghorlas has recovered, as you can see. Since you are refusing to offer help to your own sister merely because I was not specific enough, I shall spell the matter out to you.
Yes, I am in love. And yes, it is with another poet. His name is Flavius and he is not married, nor is he on trial for treason. He is, however, dead, and I thought you could help me with that.
I knew him in passing while he was alive, but it was only after his death that I fell in love. Someone read one of his poems at the funeral and… Clementia, I have never felt so connected with another soul! I quickly bought one of his poetry books from a friend. He expresses all the same deep, tumultuous feelings I have that I could never put into words. And he’s funny! He can move from bleak, existential ideas to outlandish comedy in one line. I have never seen that in the works of any of my previous loves. And his erotic poetry… I will not go into details, but suffice to say: it exists, and it is exquisite.
I cannot stop thinking about him. He comes to me in my dreams, promising me love, and I can only assume that it is a sign from the gods that I am meant to be with him. I can barely eat, barely concentrate on my work. Sometimes a line from one of his poems springs into my head and makes me giggle and blush.
I know somewhere in that icy heart of yours you remember the feeling of being in love. If you came here and saw the state of me, you would understand the depth of my feelings. Flavius is only three weeks dead and I already have someone willing to dig up the body for me, so all you would need to do is reanimate him. I am certain you are the best at what you do. I will pay you for your labour, and for any materials you may require - I know flesh reconstruction can be expensive. You say you are comfortable, but there must be things you still want? A larger house, fancier lab equipment, better slaves?
I can promise you the finest food while you are staying with me. New clothes too - fashion has changed drastically since you were last in the city and I wouldn’t want you to feel left behind. If you wish to be left alone while you work on him, that would be fine too. I won’t fuss over you if you don’t want it. If nothing else, surely visiting the rabbits would tempt you?
Once you’ve reanimated Flavius I won’t bother you again. Please, please, Clementia. Do this one thing for me.
Your devoted sister,
Julia
Dear Julia,
No.
Not only is your proposal absurd, it also won’t work. I’ve told you a thousand times that reanimated corpses retain almost none of their personality. I could make him physically resemble his old self - I am one of the best at flesh crafting, even if I say so myself - but he won’t be a poet with “deep, tumultuous feelings”, nor will he have a working apparatus. He will be a walking corpse that can just about hold a book if you asked him to. If necromancy worked the way it does in your pretty little head, don’t you think it would be legal? No more mothers would have to bury their children, the greatest inventors would keep inventing, and old Emperor Horatius would be resurrected and rule for a thousand years.
Do you remember Honey, our first rabbit? She got an infection and died, but I got out all my secret books and made his little rabbit corpse hop again. But she wasn’t the same. Even at your young age, I think you recognised that. She no longer nursed her young, nor did she give any sort of response when we petted her. My skills have grown a great deal since then, but the principle is still the same.
Besides, why would you want to resurrect Flavius? Just because some of his poetry made you feel all tingly doesn’t mean you would be suited together. You said yourself you barely knew him while he was alive. If the gods really did want to send you a sign, why would they kill him in the first place?
I suspect you will not stop pestering me until I submit, and I really don’t want long flowery letters about what a special man he is and what a cruel, selfish sister I am. So in lieu of helping you myself I shall pass on the name of a trustworthy associate: Petro Hannus. He lives in the Ink District and will charge reasonable rates if you tell him I sent you. Unlike whatever cheap necromancer you are probably already looking into, he will not later resort to blackmail. This does not mean I am condoning this whole idea, nor does it mean it is safe. Few necromancers last long in the city, and there is every possibility he will be caught, and all of his records and associates scrutinised.
Your sensible, responsible sister,
Clementia
Dear Clementia,
It has been two months since I last wrote to you, and a great deal has happened since then. I am hoping you might give me some sisterly advice, since many of the events are essentially your fault.
I sought out your friend Petro, and he agreed to resurrect Flavius for me. The flesh sculpting was quite good, though undoubtedly not to the standard I could have expected from you. I have had to keep Flavius in my house at all times as he was supposed to be dead, which was rather a shame as I’d have liked to show him off to my friends - I do wish you had reminded me about this. I have told my slaves he is a family friend who is staying for a while, but I think some of them might have realised who he really is. I see disgust in their eyes. I think I can still trust Ghorlas.
The reanimated Flavius is quite different from the living version of him. I had hoped you were exaggerating things to put me off, but he can’t even read out his own poetry! I can get him to repeat after me, but it really isn’t the same - he no longer appreciates pauses or inflections. His rendition of his erotic poems is unquestionably off-putting. His bedroom performances are not the worst I’ve experienced, but the chill of his skin means I can never quite forget he has previously been buried six feet underground. I have tried to engage him in deep discussions, but he just parrots my words back at me. He tells me he loves me, but I just don’t feel this is working.
After a few weeks of this, I sought out your friend Petro again to demand an explanation. However, it appears he has fled the city. I do not know anyone else in the sordid circles you mingle with, so I do not know where he might have gone or how to get in contact with him.
I feel trapped with this corpse. I worry about him escaping while I am working, so I have taken to tying him to the bedposts most of the day. The Flavius I know would yell and argue and make a fuss about this, but whenever I return to the house he is sat in the same position I left him, with the same gormless expression on his face. This whole debacle has also meant I have had to forbid my slaves from entering my room. I now have to dress myself and light my own fireplace!
I have to admit, somewhat shamefully, that I stabbed him repeatedly last night. I assumed he would fall down dead, but it didn’t seem to do anything but ruin the beautiful (and expensive) silk shirt I had dressed him in. I am not well-versed in such immoral practices as necromancy, so I have no idea how to un-resurrect him. Why did you not warn me about this? I did consider simply asking my friend to re-bury him, but the risk of him crawling out seems too great.
Considering what a mess you’ve gotten me into, the least you could do is come back to the city and deal with him yourself. Please start packing as soon as you receive this letter. I don’t think I can stand this much longer.
Your distraught sister,
Julia
Dear Julia,
No.
Also: I told you so. Your literacy is clearly worse than I thought if all you absorbed from my last letter was Petro Hannus’ name.
Despite your utter, utter stupidity, I do not wish to see you in chains or facing scandal. So I shall outline exactly what you need to do to “un-resurrect” it. Please follow it to the letter.
Send all your slaves out of the house for a couple of hours. How you do it is not my concern. Invite your grave-digging friend over so they can assist you with the dismantling of the corpse.
Next, lay out some cheap cloth on the floor and ask the corpse to lie down on its front. Ideally, tie its hands and feet together. There should be a small scar at the base of its skull - stab that part with a knife and root around until your fingers close around a seed. It will be hard and oval-shaped, about as big as your thumbnail. You will need your friend to hold the corpse down, as it will lash out violently when anyone attempts to remove the seed. At this point corpses are usually much stronger than a normal human, so make sure its movements are as limited as possible, and lock all the doors in case it tries to flee.
After that you will need to remove the black box that will most likely be where you would expect the heart. Different necromancers put it in different places, so if you cannot find it there just look over the corpse for any other surgical scars. Do NOT simply bash the corpse until you find it. It shouldn’t be violent anymore, but it will make an ear-splitting scream as soon as the black box is touched, and it will not stop until the box is completely detached from the flesh. You may wish to do this whole procedure in a remote place, but that means transporting the corpse there in the first place.
Once the seed and box are removed, the corpse is back to being dead. Have your friend return the body to the grave and clean up any mess. Tell your slaves your friend has gone back home and they should be none the wiser.
Please do not ask for my help raising a corpse ever again.
Your inexplicably kind sister,
Clementia
Dear Clementia,
Mother has returned from Zyrholla! Her house is now inundated with fascinating foreign trinkets and artefacts. I think you would very much appreciate some of the sculptures - quite a few of them reflect your own hobbies. Mother looked magnificent during the parade, and I swear the crowds cheered for her more than anyone else. I felt so proud to be part of our family.
Father has been tasked with overseeing the building of a new theatre in honour of the late Emperor Horatius. He has been working tirelessly to get it built in time for the new year. He is also now betrothed to a woman called Claudia, a second cousin of Emperor Egnatius. The dinner parties she hosts are truly spectacular - not just the food, but the entertainment as well. I didn’t know acrobats could be so flexible!
I realise I never wrote to thank you for your assistance with that messy business last year. Things would have gone significantly smoother if you had deigned to visit, but all was resolved in the end.
Things have been going well for me since then. I have a new position at the treasury, and I have finally taken up hunting as all my friends have been pestering me to do so for years. I have redecorated the dining hall with the stuffed heads of the deer I have hunted, and they have attracted many compliments from my guests.
There is also a complicated matter I wish to discuss with you. I can’t go into the details here, as unfortunately my old freedman Ghorlas fled, along with two of my slaves. I have bought replacements, but they aren’t quite broken in yet so I am not sure how much I can trust them. The matter is very serious and I really do need you to come back to the city and help me deal with it. I trust you won’t yet again abandon me in my time of need.
Honey had another litter last month - eight new kits!
Your loving sister,
Julia