Excerpt 4 from the Exclusive Episode of Lazare Donatien’s Adventures

Discover below the promised excerpt from the exclusive episode of Lazare Donatien’s adventures:

Lazare’s Gift

Chapter 4

When I returned to the Manoir that evening, I took care to bring the casket with me. The notary had informed me that the electricity had been restored earlier that afternoon. I checked as soon as I arrived and was pleasantly surprised to find it was indeed the case.

Having eaten little all day, I set about preparing a hearty snack, having first stopped by the small supermarket I’d spotted upon my arrival the previous day.

Once sated, I settled cross-legged on a sheet I’d spread out on the floor, right in the middle of what must once have been a splendid library, its books now buried under several centimeters of dust.

I pulled the “inhabited” casket from my backpack and placed it a few centimeters in front of me. Feeling shivers of anticipation ripple across my forearms, I gave it a few light taps with my fingertip.
— Whoever you are, show yourself and let’s have a little chat, shall we? I asked calmly of the antiquity before me.

I didn’t have to wait long before the casket creaked open. A bluish wisp drifted out, soon coalescing into a figure with distinct features before me.

— Can you see and hear me? the poor soul inquired, with that expression I’d seen so many times on the pallid faces of specters. That said, this one was a bit peculiar. Truth be told, I’d only rarely encountered his kind.

— I can see and hear you perfectly, my friend, I replied courteously. The face of my startled guest lit up at once.

— Great heavens, I’d lost all hope of ever finding someone like you, my lord!

— Er, ‘my lord’ might be laying it on a bit thick. I’m Lazare, Lazare Donatien. What’s your name

— Forgive my belated introduction, my… er… Mr. Lazare. I am called Zephirii Zephiro! the spirit proclaimed with pride, puffing out his translucent chest.

— Very well, Zephirii Zephiro, how about you tell me your story, starting with how and why you’re tied to this casket? Then we’ll see what I can do for you. Deal?

— Gladly, Mr. Lazare, the spirit replied, beaming.

I sighed; “Mr. Lazare” wasn’t much better, but it beat “my lord.”

— I was the valet of His Lordship Ferdinand, Duke of Mantua and Montferrat.

— Oh? High society, I see, I commented lightly. Go on.

— One night, as I made my usual rounds to ensure all the castle’s entrances were secured, I overheard a conversation between two of the duke’s guests. The valet’s features hardened. A pair of scoundrels, whispering in one of the castle’s salons. I realized they were plotting to assassinate the duke, and in my panic, I tripped over a table corner while trying to flee and warn my master. To my misfortune, I’m a valet, not a knight; that misstep raised the alarm, and the two men quickly overpowered me. I was bound, gagged, and locked in an abandoned attic in the castle grounds. I don’t know what happened next. I only recall that sleep finally claimed me after enduring two moons without food, water, or rest. Then, somehow, I passed from life to death. Clearly the work of those rogues, and…

— Hold on a moment, friend. Just to make sure we’re on the same page, do you think you’re a ghost?

— In truth, I’m certain of it, Mr. Lazare! What else could I be? I have no body, yet I’ve wandered the world of men for centuries, unnoticed by anyone! What do you call that, if not a ghost?

— Yes, yes, I understand, I said, raising both hands to calm the valet. Tell me, when did you ‘die’?

— In 1618, sir.

— Well, now, I whistled under my breath, that’s quite a journey you’ve been on! Unfortunately, it also means your body’s been dust for quite some time. No chance of slipping back into it under these conditions.

— I’m afraid I don’t quite grasp what you’re saying, Mr. Lazare, the would-be specter said, his face a mask of doubt.

— That’s perfectly normal, I’ll try to be clearer. You’re not a ghost, but what we call a wandering spirit. You see, there are various entities that roam this earth, and, while I can’t see them all, those that were once human, I see and recognize perfectly. It’s part of my gift.

— What are you, then?

— I’m a Drockhead.

— What’s that? Zephirii Zephiro pressed, raising his brows.

—Let’s just say it’s someone who, like me, has the gift of communing with the dead and other entities that were once human.

— So, you’re a sorcerer, if I follow.

— Er, no, not quite, but let’s leave that aside for now—it’s not important. What matters is that we need to figure out how to free you from this eternal wandering. In your case, you weren’t dead when your body and soul parted, just asleep. If you’d been able to return to your body before your murder, you’d have woken up and carried on with your life.

— Such a solution exists?

— It has to. I’d wager there’d be far more wandering spirits about otherwise. And though I don’t know it yet, I assure you we’ll find it. For starters, we need to understand how your soul and body were separated in the first place. Are you sure you don’t recall any more details?

— I’m afraid not, sadly. All I remember is falling asleep one last time, never to awaken in my own body.

— But surely you saw what your enemies did to you once you were cast out of your body. Didn’t you stay to try and warn your master of their plot?

— I didn’t know where I was when I came to. I found myself in a barren wasteland, and only later, through years of wandering, did I learn it was a steppe. I was far from home, utterly lost. By the time I made it back to the ducal castle, years had passed, and Monseigneur Ferdinand was already dead. I returned to the attic in the grounds, but my body was gone; not even my bones remained.

— All right, I replied, sinking back into thought.

This poor man’s body had likely been buried without ceremony after his captors slaughtered him. I didn’t have the heart to voice this to the already distraught spirit standing before me.

— I understand… By the way, you still haven’t told me how or why you became bound to the casket.

— Quite right, forgive me. This casket was a gift from Monseigneur Ferdinand for my twenty years of service to the ducal family of Montferrat. I’d also served his father and brother before him, you know. It held a reward of five hundred florins. After centuries of wandering across every continent, I one day sensed a familiar presence nearby. After days of searching, I realized why: I’d found the casket my lord had given me. I’d roamed so long that I chose to settle near this comforting presence, which stirred so many memories.

— Hum… Well, after so poignant a tale, I’d be loath to fail in resolving this matter as it deserves,” I declared, rising to my feet. “What if we began by seeing what we might do for you, my friend? This house is filled with ancient books and parchments. Perhaps we’ll uncover something of interest—what say you?