The Warden of Nagil

“How can you be so certain that ‘we’ll find a way’?” Trystan asked in a hushed yet frantic tone after they left the chief administrator’s office. The young priestess didn’t immediately answer him as she looked up toward the plaques above the doorways. She read their inscriptions rather quickly before taking a turn beneath a black marble archway that read Temple of Nagil. Her companion stopped before he passed through after her, reading the inscription before his face went pale. Why was she heading toward that temple? “Ysolt?” What could she possibly want with the wardens of Nagil and their god of death? Before he lost sight of her, the young man gulped before hoofing in after her.

As they sat at another official’s desk, the grim-looking warden before them was looking over Ysolt’s credentials while she leaned in toward Trystan. Raising her hand to cover the movements of her lips, she whispered, “Wardens offer best rewards.” The wayfarer turned to stare at the priestess as his brain processed what she could mean by that. Not immortality, that went against the very nature of Death. Surely she meant there would be a financial reward for whatever job they were about to pick up. What exactly was about to be asked of them?

“Your timing is impeccable,” the warden grumbled in a bored tone as he rolled up the scroll and passed it back to the young woman. His skin was pasty pale; what remained of his hair was thin and braided back to keep it from bothering his neck. The exposed dome of his head gleamed in the candlelight, which cast deep shadows across the black, gothic décor of the room. “Below the temple is a crypt where we occasionally experiment with the corpses left in our charge,” he began to explain as he folded his hands before him; long, bony fingers crisscrossing with rhythmic practice. “What do you mean by experiment?” Trystan asked hesitantly while the priestess of Maka leaned in with a look of interest and curiosity in her teal eyes.

“We honor and revere the rituals of an underappreciated aspect of Nagil here,” the warden continued, giving the wayfarer a look of disdain for questioning him before he was finished proposing the job he needed completed. “A ghoul has escaped, and rumors have started spreading throughout the metropolis of its existence. It terrorizes the city at night, and we would greatly appreciate it if the militia did not get involved,” he said as Ysolt nodded in agreement. “Militia means paperwork,” she clarified to the lad next to her. “In triplicate,” the warden sighed to confirm her statement. “Destroy the body and return the head to me, and you will be rewarded handsomely,” he added in a dull tone. Pearly white teeth gleamed in the candlelight as Ysolt grinned with reassurance, “We accept.”