"Clap, clap, clap."
Rhythmic applause rang out. Gret turned his head and saw that the necromancer had leaned his staff against the wall and was smiling as he clapped. After a few claps, he held out a hand to Gret, his tone even more enthusiastic than it had been outside.
"I thought you were just a kindhearted man, but it turns out you've got a dark side too! Hahahaha, my dear friend, your insight is truly impressive...
"—I forgot to introduce myself earlier. My name is Andrew Lynn. I'm a necromancer from Black Crow Marsh. And you?
"Oh, right, what would you like to drink? Mint water? Or honey water? Trolka found a beehive a few days ago. I'm telling you, he's strong—he actually drove off the brown bear that was stealing the honey..."
He spoke so quickly, and his topics changed just as fast, one after another tumbling out with each new association. It sounded like a flight of ideas. This guy might want to see a psychiatrist—
If this world had psychiatrists.
Gret made a quiet mental note. His expression unchanged, he smiled and replied:
"I'm Gret, Gret Nordmark. I'm a local. I'm not sure what my profession is at the moment. I'll have some mint water. Got anything to eat? I'm starving—I got up in the middle of the night to work!"
"Trolka!"
The necromancer Andrew shouted. The Golden Skeleton clattered away, and the necromancer finished washing his hands before turning back with enthusiasm.
"Hey, so what do you think? Would it be easier to control skeleton soldiers if they used their own bones?"
"I think your skeleton is already very obedient," Gret answered sincerely.
He had been watching that Golden Skeleton the whole time. Compared with the Black Cat, who was doing nothing but lying on the table and waiting for food, the skeleton had been busy ever since he came in. Opening cabinets, fetching a tray and tea things, pouring water, bringing out food...
It even flipped up a stone slab with a clatter. Flames sprang up beneath it, and it began roasting pancakes.
If it weren't a skeleton, Gret would've believed it was a robot.
Clearly, the necromancer Andrew wasn't satisfied with that answer. He gestured wildly as he described how lousy his skeleton was in a fight (Gret: It's not. It's way stronger than me), then looked at Gret expectantly again, waiting for his answer.
"...I don't know..."
Gret managed to swallow the words. But that was such a difficult question. You're asking me? I should be asking your skeleton!
He tried to force a smile.
"I think the skeletons might not know which bones belong to them."
"Exactly!" The man nodded hard.
"This skeleton put itself together, so I guess it really can't be trusted.—So how do you tell bones apart? How do you know which ones belong to whom?"
Gret: "..."
Should I have turned down the invitation? This necromancer didn't seem malicious, but he didn't look like he had much sense...
Gret glanced around, a little flustered.
How could he tell which bones belonged to whom? He did know a way: DNA testing. Test every bone, sort them by the results. It would be fast, accurate, and affordable~~~
The problem was that this was another world. He wanted to try it, sure, but he'd need the means to do so.
There were less accurate methods, too. For instance, you could estimate the owner's age by checking when the growth plates had fused, then sort the bones by age.
For example, one radius had a fused head, but its distal growth plate hadn't fused yet, while the growth plates in another pelvis had all fused.
The radial head fused at fifteen to seventeen, and the distal growth plate fused at sixteen to eighteen. Taking both into account, the owner was probably around sixteen or seventeen. The pelvic growth plates fused at twenty to twenty-five, so if they had all fused, the owner had to be over twenty...
Those two bones definitely belonged to two different people. No question.
—However, you needed an X-ray to examine growth plates.
There were none in this world.
Gret—the former emergency physician, the man with nothing at all—Nordmark fell to the ground in despair once again...
Could someone get me an X-ray machine!
If not, just get me some radium ore. I could find someone to make one by hand!
The necromancer Andrew was still staring at him expectantly. His face was sallow, his hair greasy; he clearly paid no attention to personal hygiene. As for his build, he looked like a walking stick even without the wind blowing.
A little thinner, and he could be brothers with his skeleton.
Oh, right. The Golden Skeleton was holding a tray laden with a pitcher, a porcelain plate, a cup, a glass jar, and everything else—mint water, white bread, honey. It stood beside the cabinet with its chest out and arms held level, its posture impeccable, but it wasn't coming over.
Was this one of those situations where he wouldn't even get a snack unless he came up with something useful?
Gret mentally drew circles around the necromancer in front of him as he grumbled. But he was at the other man's mercy, so he could only rack his brains—no, search the forensic medicine textbook stored in his mind—and try to come up with something useful.
"Actually... you can estimate a bone's age, too. Take the skull, for example. The teeth are an obvious indicator..."
Gret stopped and looked around, hoping to find a skull for a hands-on lesson. Unfortunately, even though this was a necromancer's home, bones weren't lying around everywhere.
At least, the only one Gret could see was the one on the Golden Skeleton's shoulders.
So the skeleton he had been staring at eagerly clattered over.
It set down the tray, poured the mint water, and put out the plate of snacks. Then—it took off its own head, held it in both hands, and offered it to Gret.
Its pitch-black eye sockets tilted upward. The two flames of its soul stared into Gret's eyes.
Gret: "..."
What was this?
What was it trying to do?
Was he supposed to hold a pancake in one hand, spread honey on it, and eat, while poking the skull with the other and teaching it a lesson?
Sure, surgeons in general were informal, unafraid to look bloody carnage in the eye, and used to facing bleak realities, but this was taking things too far!
He leaned back to avoid the skull held right under his nose. Reaching across the table, he picked up a fork from in front of the necromancer and rapped it hard against the skull.
"Open your mouth!"
The Golden Skeleton's jaw dropped at once. Gret raised the necromancer's fork and pointed it at the skull's dark, uneven teeth, explaining them one by one.
"The older a person is, the more worn their teeth are. Look, the tips have been worn down, and the back molars have lost a huge part of their crowns. You can even see the dentin...
"Tsk, tsk, tsk. He must've been in a lot of pain while he was alive.
"If the crowns are only a little worn, or the tips haven't been worn down, then the person was probably younger..."
As he spoke, the necromancer Andrew craned his neck to look at the teeth one by one. He leaned farther and farther forward, lowering his head until it seemed he was about to bury it in the skeleton's mouth. Halfway through, he suddenly came to his senses and waved vaguely at the table.
"Please, help yourself—"
Gret didn't hesitate. He ate with the speed of an emergency physician on a night shift, grabbing a pancake with his left hand and pouring honey with his right. He sandwiched two pieces together and stuffed them into his mouth. As he took his first bite, his tongue flicked against the roof of his mouth, and he couldn't help making a soft sound of approval.
Mmm, the pancake was delicate and fluffy, the honey sweet and fragrant, and the mint water refreshing. The Golden Skeleton wasn't as good at making pancakes as the master chefs in his previous life, but in the middle of the night, when he was hungry, they tasted more than good enough.
Now this was what people should eat!
He didn't want to eat black bread every day!
In a good mood, he launched into an even more detailed lesson.
"Oh, the wear on teeth is related not only to age but also to the owner's diet and financial circumstances. For example, people who eat black bread all the time must have more tooth wear than people who eat white bread. Besides teeth, the pelvis can also help you estimate age... The pelvis..."
Thanks to @Canopy for the 100 Qidian coins!
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Writing was really difficult today. I wrote and deleted, wrote and deleted. I deleted this chapter three times and still couldn't finish it. Please comfort me...
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