《Good Guy Necromancer: A Progression Fantasy》 Chapter 1: The Abnormal Necromancer People detest necromancers. They call us disgusting, repulsive, ungodly. They are wrong about those, but they are right to fear us. Necromancers and mundanes cannot coexist. We are simply too different; to us, people are materials, a nascent state of zombies, as farm animals are to farmers. To them, we are predators. They are right to fear us; for we are enemies, but it takes many of them to kill one of us, and only one of us to kill many of them. Some believe we can overcome our differences. That is a false notion. The wolf cannot live with sheep, not only because he hungers for their flesh, but because they fear him for what he is. Against mundanes, we must not attempt coexistence. That would only give them opportunities to scheme against us, to betray us at our lowest. In a battle of the mind, they are more, and they can emerge victorious. No, we necromancers must come in the night, falling upon them like hungry wolves on fat lambs. We shall tame their souls and raise their bodies as ours. Before the night is through, we must have made them part of our strength, until we are too great to be slain by their paltry forces. That is the way of necromancy. - From the excerpts of Ozborne the Cursed Holly¡¯s eyes darted left and right in panic. This was supposed to be a simple herb gathering trip. She stepped back and found herself cornered against a tree, her beautiful blue dress wrinkling against the bark. Around her, two men grinned, while a third simply watched on. She screamed. ¡°Hey now, girl,¡± one of them said as he leaned in, his voice rough and overly honeyed. He wore a green tunic with a leaf insignia on his chest, the symbol of the Greenskin bandits, and his breath stank. ¡°Don¡¯t be afraid.¡± He smiled, showcasing his couple of missing teeth. ¡°We won¡¯t harm you; just take you for a walk.¡± Another man chuckled, while the third bandit simply scoffed. ¡°Come on,¡± he said, clearly uncomfortable. ¡°Just grab her and get this over with.¡± ¡°You shut your trap, Tom,¡± the first bandit snapped back. ¡°I¡¯m going to do this my fucking way.¡± ¡°Then you can also keep watch your fucking way.¡± ¡°You already agreed to do this. Be a man!¡± ¡°I was ordered to, not agreed.¡± Tom crossed his arms. ¡°Also, your definitions are way off.¡± ¡°Big words don¡¯t make you smart,¡± the third bandit argued. ¡°Just do your damn job and keep watch for us!¡± Holly¡¯s mind was hazy with fear, barely following their words. They were standing too close. If she so much as reached out, she could easily touch their leather vests. Her breath quickened. She was panicking. They would kidnap her, then kill her and use her head to decorate their treehouses. Or worse. ¡°I want to leave,¡± she muttered weakly, looking down and clutching her herb basket. ¡°Please¡­¡± Their grins widened. ¡°What¡¯s your name, beauty?¡± the leader asked. ¡°You¡¯re our guest now, so let¡¯s get to know each other.¡± His companion laughed, while Holly¡¯s world closed in around her. These men were going to take her away forever. Nobody could rescue her, not even her father or Murdock. She was doomed. The forest span in her eyes. ¡°Excuse me.¡± A polite voice interrupted the bandits¡¯ laughter. Ten steps behind them, a skinny, unkempt man walked out of the bushes. His clothes were tattered, his short beard scraggly, and his dark brown eyes tired. Unexpectedly, his goatskin shoes seemed brand new, and above all else, this man sported the world¡¯s most well-intended smile. He couldn¡¯t be more than thirty years of age. ¡°Who are you?¡± the bandit leader barked. ¡°I¡¯m Jerry,¡± the man replied nonchalantly, ¡°and I would like you to step away from that young lady. She seems uncomfortable.¡± ¡°Uncomfortable?¡± another bandit asked, his mouth forming into a smirk. ¡°Are you trying to say we smell, punk?¡± The man took a whiff. He considered it. ¡°A little bit, yes.¡± The two rowdy bandits looked at each other. A much better prey than this fool awaited right behind them, weak, frozen, and terrified out of her mind. Once they took her back to the base, the leader would reward them plenty. ¡°Come here, brat. I will show you the afterlife,¡± one of the men said, drawing his sword. The more reluctant bandit sighed and followed suit, while the leader remained behind to hold the girl. ¡°Well¡­¡± Jerry scratched his head. ¡°I apologize. This is going to hurt a little.¡± ¡°What are you¡ª¡± The bushes behind Jerry exploded . Two creatures rushed out, each scarier than the other. The bandits froze. Holly, already frozen, could not avert her sight. Her mind registered these two monsters as a boar and a fox, but they were not. They resembled those animals but were white, made entirely of bones. Her knees gave way, meeting the ground as her mouth opened in a silent gasp. Before her trembling eyes, the two things obliterated the bandits. The boar fell on them like a runaway carriage, goring one¡ªTom¡ªwith its tusks and throwing the next on the ground before furiously stomping on his chest. The man¡¯s insides splattered out in a shower of gore and blood. The bandits screamed, and so did Holly. She had no idea whose screams she was hearing. The third and final man was tossed aside by a massive boar head, crashing against a tree. He stood up and tried to leave, only for the other monstrous form to fall on him. It was a maelstrom of bones, fury, and death, and the man screamed as his face was cut apart, uselessly flailing his weapon around. Two jaws clamped shut around his neck, prying out the windpipe. Blood gushed out like a river, drenching Holly¡¯s face. She screamed again. Behind everything, the skinny, unkempt man watched calmly, a sad glint in his eyes. When the slaughter was over, he regarded the devastation and sighed before turning to her. Holly thought she would go insane. ¡°Hi, I¡¯m Jerry,¡± he said, giving her a wide smile. ¡°I know how this looks, but I¡¯m actually a pretty good guy!¡± Holly, already with her ass on the ground, backpedaled furiously. It dirtied her beautiful blue dress, but she didn¡¯t have the presence of mind to deal with that at the moment. A far more pressing question loomed in her mind. What the hell just happened? ¡°Y-you¡­¡± she said, raising a trembling finger. ¡°You¡¯re a necromancer!¡± ¡°I am,¡± the man replied as if it was the most natural thing in the world. His face was a picture of tranquility. If he stood by himself, he might have seemed good-natured; naive, even. Now, he was surrounded by corpses, blood, and gore, with two skeletal monsters by his side. Their empty eyes stared through her soul, ready to devour her, or whatever it was that skeletons did to humans. Her eyes darted to the dead bandits. That¡¯s what skeletons did to humans. She was going to die, that much was certain. Things had just gone from bad to worse. What was a necromancer doing here? And why did he seem so damn cheerful?! Holly was no hero. She was just a terrified village girl. She didn¡¯t want to die. Her hands clasped the stalk of wood nettle hanging from her chest, hoping it would protect her, as the mayor said. ¡°Please don¡¯t kill me,¡± she muttered, trembling to her soul. ¡°Sure,¡± replied the humanoid incarnation of evil. ¡°Why would I?¡± ¡°Why?¡± Holly gawked. This was so ridiculous that her tongue moved by itself. ¡°Because you¡¯re evil!¡± He blinked innocently, then smiled. ¡°No, I¡¯m not.¡± ¡°But you¡¯re a necromancer!¡± ¡°Not all necromancers are evil.¡± The devil smiled again, pointing at himself. ¡°Like me!¡± Holly¡¯s panicked mind screamed at her to stall. Maybe Murdock or her father would arrive in time. ¡°What about them?¡± she asked, pointing at the two skeletal monsters. ¡°These boney abominations!¡± The boar-looking thing snorted, cold air escaping its nostrils, and Holly shrieked as she crawled backward again. Her back hit another tree, and she cursed; did this forest need to have so many damn trees? ¡°Hey now, that wasn¡¯t very polite,¡± the necromancer said, sounding¡­concerned? He bent down, patting the skull of the dreadful boar-like-thing. ¡°These are no abominations; they are just unusual. This is Boboar, and the smaller one is Foxy. Say hi, guys.¡± The fox thing made a soft cry, while the boar thing oinked and charged at her. Holly screamed, shutting her eyes. ¡°Don¡¯t be afraid.¡± The evil wizard laughed. ¡°He just wants to play!¡± Holly was expecting agony and death, but neither came. ¡°Ah?¡± Eventually, she opened her eyes just a bit; the boar thing¡¯s terrifying form was close, leaning forward as if to smell her dress. It then hopped a circle around her¡ªand the tree she was backed against¡ªbefore releasing a happy oink.Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings. ¡°What?¡± Holly muttered. Her entire body was numb, and her mind felt hazy, completely unable to follow this chain of events. ¡°This is impossible¡­¡± she muttered out loud. ¡°I must have died already. I¡¯m dreaming.¡± ¡°I told you, it¡¯s okay. I¡¯m a good guy, and these two are my friends. We aren¡¯t going to harm you. What¡¯s your name?¡± ¡°Holly¡­¡± she whispered, eyes glazed over. Today was simply too much. ¡°Very nice to meet you, Holly.¡± ¡°Are you really not going to kill me?¡± ¡°Of course I¡¯m not going to kill you,¡± Jerry replied, stretching a hand to help her up. She looked at it, shivered, then stood by herself. The necromancer shrugged. ¡°But¡­ You¡¯re a necromancer,¡± she said, dusting herself off. By the side, the two skeletal animals awaited, but now she could function. Somewhat. ¡°Aren¡¯t necromancers supposed to kill people?¡± ¡°Some do, but I¡¯m a good necromancer. I don¡¯t kill people for no reason.¡± ¡°But then you can¡¯t use their bodies.¡± ¡°That¡¯s okay. Besides,¡± he gestured at the dead bandits, ¡°look at how conveniently these three showed up.¡± She gave him the side eye. ¡°You¡¯re weird.¡± ¡°I get that a lot.¡± He smiled, tapping his temple. ¡°Something in here¡¯s not right, but that¡¯s okay. Not everyone has to be normal. I like me.¡± Holly blinked. ¡°Are you crazy?¡± she asked. ¡°I don¡¯t think so, but I could be. It¡¯s hard to tell.¡± ¡°How can it be hard?¡± she asked. Despair gave way to a rush of adrenaline, easily mistaken for excitement, even by herself. ¡°Do you see things that don¡¯t exist? Do you hear voices?¡± The boar thing bumped on her leg, and she yelped. ¡°None of those.¡± Jerry shook his head. ¡°It¡¯s just, you know¡­ I spent six months in solitude, and before that, I¡¯d gone fifteen years straight with a massive headache. Maybe some part of my brain went bad? The way my mind works now feels odd, as if something in there is wrong, but I don¡¯t mind.¡± ¡°Oh,¡± Holly said, her mind jittery. She was confused. Necromancers weren¡¯t supposed to be like this. She looked at her feet, where the monster called Boboar lay on the ground, unperturbed by the blood and gore on its tusks. Wait, why am I not affected by the blood? Is it the shock? Am I in shock? She looked at the dead bodies. One had been stomped through the chest, blood, skin, and entrails spreading out of the man¡¯s body like tree roots. Deep down, some part of her screamed and retched at the sight¡ªbut it felt strangely distant, as if there was a different Holly trapped inside her, struggling to escape while this Holly, the one outside, was so, so cold. In fact, her entire body was so frozen it suddenly felt numb. ¡°Oh,¡± she exclaimed, then fainted on the spot. *** A few moments earlier, Jerry lounged on a fallen log, taking his usual midday rest. The breeze was pleasant, and the sun shone through the foliage. He had no idea where he was, but that was par for the course. He didn¡¯t need to know. A village would either come up or it wouldn¡¯t, and six months in the forest had taught him nothing if not patience. An oink came from a patch of nearby bushes. Jerry smiled. Spending half a year in the forest had its perks. The branches parted and a monstrous form walked out. It resembled a boar but was massive, thick, and white, made entirely of bones¡ªthe result of two boar skeletons grafted together into an extra-burly version. Jerry smiled warmly. ¡°Hello, Boboar,¡± he said. ¡°Had a good trip?¡± The skeletal boar replied with a happy oink, affectionately¡ªand carefully¡ªrubbing against Jerry¡¯s thigh. He patted its skull. This creature, which could bring nightmares to the bravest of children, was one of Jerry¡¯s loving pets. The rustling of leaves betrayed another arrival. A skeletal fox dropped from above, carrying a dead squirrel in its jaws. ¡°Foxy! Good girl!¡± Jerry laughed. At his noises of approval, Boboar remembered something. Running back into the bushes, it quickly reappeared with a few green-capped mushrooms in its mouth, then dropped them on Jerry¡¯s feet and excitedly wagged its tail. Jerry took a look. Though necromancy made him immune to most diseases, these were definitely not edible. He smiled. ¡°Good work, Boboar.¡± He rubbed its skull. ¡°You¡¯re the best double boar I have ever met!¡± The boar oinked happily, swerving around itself once. Foxy, ever the calm one, simply curled up beside its prey. ¡°Come on.¡± Jerry stood up, dusting off his weather-worn green tunic. ¡°Let¡¯s start a fire.¡± Boboar excitedly ran into the woods, while Foxy grabbed the squirrel and skinned it¡ªshe didn¡¯t have claws, being a skeleton, but her bones were just as sharp. At the same time, Jerry set to work preparing the bonfire. A cold breeze ruffled his woolen coat. He looked at the sky. Winter was coming. If he didn¡¯t find a village to live in soon, or at least an abandoned house, or even a nice cave, he would probably freeze to death. He shrugged. Not much he could do about that before dinner. And, besides, necromancy had its way of de-glorifying death. Will the snow rise higher than Foxy¡¯s head? If I¡¯m going to freeze to death, maybe we can play in the snow beforehand. With the harsh sound of two stones rubbing against each other, the pine needles burst into flames, scorching the small logs arced above them. Soon, they were aflame. Jerry angled the dead squirrel over the fire, draping it on a piece of wood using a rock for support. He grinned at their teamwork; Boboar had gathered firewood, Foxy had caught and prepared the meal, while Jerry had gathered tinder and lit the fire. ¡°We make a great team,¡± he told them, and the two undead cried out in joy at his approval. Another cry cut through the woods, decidedly not made in joy. It sounded like a woman¡¯s scream before it sharply turned into silence. Jerry¡¯s head whipped around. ¡°What was that?¡± he said, already standing. While he hadn¡¯t interacted much with humans in the previous months, he could still recognize the sound of someone in trouble. If that was so, maybe he could help. He liked helping. He also liked making a good impression, which would help convince that girl¡¯s village to let him stay. He was, after all, a good guy. Or maybe the girl had just tripped. Who knew. ¡°Boboar, Foxy, with me,¡± Jerry said, quickly snuffing out the fire. ¡°Let¡¯s go check it out.¡± The two skeletal animals stomped and rushed through the woods, their lightweight forms enhancing their speed. Jerry ran after them, quickly getting left behind and feeling a bit ridiculous. Running on foot wasn¡¯t very becoming of a necromancer, but it wasn¡¯t like he could ride Boboar. The sharp spines were inconvenient. Maybe he could craft a saddle. Or find a horse corpse and create a mighty steed. Huh, he wondered idly. Why didn¡¯t I think of that before? But, for now, he simply ran. There was someone to save, and with a little bit of luck, maybe they would even let Jerry into their village! *** Jerry regarded the unmoving bandit corpses sprawled against the forest floor. He was honestly excited; it was the first time he had human bodies to experiment with. Idly, he wondered whether these young men were simply joking with Holly before he unleashed an oversized skeletal boar at them. He really hoped that wasn¡¯t the case. He had heard screams, and there were wicked shortswords on the ground. Perhaps the girl could explain. She looked about sixteen, with blond hair and an oval, freckled face, while a now-dirty, frilly blue dress covered her body. She also wore rough wooden shoes, called clogs, quite to Jerry¡¯s glee; her village might lack a proper shoemaker. She also wore a string around her neck, from which hung a piece of wood nettle. This plant supposedly repelled undead, though Jerry had discovered no such inclination of them. It was just a widespread superstition. Some people always carried these itchy plants around, just in case the Damn Wall fell, as if they wouldn¡¯t have time to grab a handful from the forest then. It was kind of stupid, really, but understandable, as it gave people the illusion of protection, an imaginary shield against the terror. The wood nettle did mark the girl as prejudiced against necromancers. Next to her, an herb-filled basket lay on the ground, its contents spilling out by the soiled ends of her dress. There was no reason to wear such a garment in the forest, but it also wasn¡¯t Jerry¡¯s business. However, just as he was done answering her questions and about to ask his own, the girl in front of him had simply slumped over, falling to the ground like a sack of potatoes. Of course, he thought. Resist the shock when it¡¯s your turn but give in when it¡¯s mine. Scoffing, he looked around. Trees everywhere. No village to be seen. Jerry scratched his head, wondering what he was supposed to do with an unconscious girl. He couldn¡¯t just guess where her village was, so he¡¯d just have to wait until she woke up¡ªand patiently enjoy his lunch in the meantime. After all, if she was in a hurry, she shouldn¡¯t have fainted. He grabbed Holly and placed her on Boboar¡¯s back, careful not to injure her. ¡°Let¡¯s go, guys. That squirrel won¡¯t eat itself.¡± Right then, the bushes behind Jerry shook. ¡°STOP!¡± came a voice, and Jerry looked over warily. A middle-aged man leaped out of the bushes with surprising agility. He was skinny and tall, wearing a pair of fine, pointy blue shoes and loose red robes covering his body. Strict lines framed his eyes, while his face was a sharp kind of aged. Most notably, the man had a wicked mustache, thin and stretching from cheek to cheek. Jerry thought it was pretty cool. He was also unarmed, vaporizing Jerry¡¯s wariness. The middle-aged man took in Jerry and his undead. ¡°Get away from her, you squanderer of gifts!¡± he shouted with a judgmental frown. The necromancer, on the other hand, found the older man¡¯s reaction cute; what would he do, scold him? That was, until sparks appeared on the man¡¯s fingers. ¡°Wait!¡± Jerry raised his hands. ¡°This isn¡¯t what it looks like.¡± Fire flew at him. Chapter 2: Impromptu Court A torrent of fire flew from the man¡¯s hands onto Jerry¡¯s body. The scalding heat made him dash backward in fear. At the same time, two more torrents jumped at the skeletons but failed to even char their bones. They both reacted instantaneously. With an angry bellow, Boboar threw himself at the man, who jumped to the side with surprising agility. Unable to stop, the double-boar crashed against a tree, shaking the entire trunk and roots underneath. Foxy also jumped at the wizard. While she wasn¡¯t nearly as strong as Boboar, she was far nimbler. She fell on him swiftly, with claws and jaws ready to tear flesh from bone, and he received a deep gash on his cheek as he slapped her away. Both animals got ready to pounce again, and the wizard¡¯s hands shone red like embers. ¡°Wait!¡± shouted Jerry, patting the final flames off his tunic. He wasn¡¯t injured. Boboar and Foxy had stopped the wizard¡¯s spell before the heat mounted. ¡°Just wait! This is a misunderstanding!¡± The two skeletons froze, absolutely loyal. The wizard also halted. ¡°Misunderstanding? There is nothing to misunderstand here. What did you do to her, you foul being?¡± he shouted, blood flowing from the nasty wound on his cheek. ¡°I saved her!¡± Jerry cried out, keeping his distance. ¡°These men were trying to harm her. I saved her. Stay your hand!¡± The wizard frowned, glancing at the three corpses, and then at the girl who lay face-down on the ground¡ªBoboar had dropped her to attack. ¡°How do I know you¡¯re not lying?¡± he asked cautiously, not lowering his hands. ¡°Holly¡¯s unconscious.¡± ¡°Not much I can do about that, unless you¡¯re really, really in a rush.¡± The wizard¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°You¡¯re a necromancer,¡± he stated. ¡°I am.¡± ¡°And you dare show yourself in these woods? Do not bring your blight upon my land!¡± ¡°Hey now, I¡¯m not bringing any blight. I just showered three days ago, and I¡¯ll have you know I take good care of myself despite living in the forest.¡± He raised his chin, then sighed. ¡°I¡¯m just a wanderer looking for a home. Actually, I¡¯ve been meaning to ask; can I stay in your village?¡± He could have been more diplomatic about it, but Jerry had seen such prejudice before. The faster the other shoe dropped, the better. ¡°Hah!¡± The wizard laughed, a coarse, bitter sound. ¡°A freak like you? Not in a thousand years. You will come to the village, but you¡¯ll be my prisoner until Holly wakes up to tell us the truth. Understand?¡± Jerry shrugged. This man seemed a bit disagreeable, but that was okay; he would just do as he was told and leave after his innocence was verified. And then, I¡¯m off to find shelter for the winter. After that, we¡¯ll see. ¡°Sure. I¡¯m Jerry, by the way. If I¡¯m innocent, are you sure I can¡¯t stay in your village? I¡¯m actually a pretty good guy, and also a shoemaker.¡± ¡°Only over my dead body.¡± The wizard snorted derisively. Your dead body wouldn¡¯t mind, Jerry thought, but chose not to speak. ¡°Follow me, then,¡± spoke the wizard, slinging the unconscious girl over his shoulder, ¡°and have your¡­minions¡­stay a hundred paces behind. I don¡¯t want them anywhere near me.¡± ¡°They are called Boboar and Foxy,¡± Jerry helpfully pointed out, ¡°but alright. Go on ahead. What¡¯s your name, by the way?¡± The man snorted and walked away. Jerry followed with a sigh. If the entire village was as rude as this guy, it was going to be a long day. *** It was a mountain village through and through. Jerry saw a couple dozen cobblestone and wood houses arrayed in loose circles around a wide, empty space. The entire settlement was built on rocky ground at a mostly flat part of the mountainside, and it was as small as could be. The only notable feature was a shallow stream a few hundred paces to the side. Jerry didn¡¯t particularly care. A home was a home, and a village was a village. No¡ª On second thought, size mattered; smaller was better. More people would mean more troublemakers, as necromancers were traditionally disliked. Boboar and Foxy waited outside the village. As Jerry and the wizard approached, the sun was setting, and smoke was already rising from several stone chimneys. The smell of dead animals hung faintly in the air, along with a vague hint of the tangy smell of drying skin. Unlike most, these people had the prudence to place the tannery outside the village. Jerry also noticed several pens, each housing a few tens of livestock¡ªsheep and goats, mostly, with the occasional cow munching on tufts of grass. There were few people out and about, all gawking in Jerry and the wizard¡¯s direction. As they walked into the village square, the wizard shouted, ¡°Mayor Ashman! Please, come to the square. We need your judgment!¡± Several windows opened, and many heads peeked through. Jerry¡¯s appearance as an unknown, unkempt man raised many brows. Not the best first impression, probably, he thought but didn¡¯t pay them any particular mind. They weren¡¯t going to let him stay anyway. Many eyes were also drawn to the new wound on the wizard¡¯s cheek, courtesy of Foxy. He¡¯d put some herbs over it to stop the bleeding, leaving him with a leaf-and-blood-smeared face, and many gasps were heard as people noticed. He was clearly pissed about that. If he disliked necromancers before, he now hated Jerry with a passion. Under everyone¡¯s gazes, the wizard suddenly seemed to remember something. He quickly retrieved a red feather from his breast pocket and stuck it in a special hole in his robes, near the shoulder. The feather stood proudly, as if it had always been there. ¡°Cheater,¡± Jerry mumbled under his breath. In the Three Kingdoms, all wizards were obligated by law to carry a colored feather signifying their status and the magic school they belonged to. They had to wear it in all public appearances and in a clearly visible spot. Jerry didn¡¯t know why, but he assumed they simply wanted to avoid unnecessary conflict, or maybe distinguish themselves from the common riffraff of the world. Wizards were known for their arrogance. Of course, necromancers weren¡¯t officially recognized as wizards, not since the Red Week, so they had no obligation to wear fancy feathers. Had this guy worn his feather in the forest, as he was supposed to, Jerry might have been more on guard¡­but, what¡¯s done is done. A few people exited their houses and headed for the empty space in the center of the village. The wizard had called it a square, but that was a very generous title, as was calling the leader of such a small place mayor. ¡°HOLLY!¡± a mighty shout came from the side as a large man rushed at them.This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source. He was bulky and dark-skinned ¡ªunlike everyone else¡ª wearing tanned leather hides as well as a set of leather boots that looked well-made but had clearly seen their fair share of winters. Muscles bulged out of his chest and arms. His head was covered in rich dark hair, while a short but bushy beard adorned his face, making his overall visage resemble the king of all lumberjacks. That impression was immediately shattered by the bow and quiver hanging from his back, as well as the long knife strapped to his waist. The large man reached the wizard in only a few steps, plucking Holly off with more force than strictly necessary. The wizard stepped back. After making sure she breathed properly and wasn¡¯t bleeding, his hard eyes stared over. ¡°Murdock,¡± he said. ¡°What happened?¡± ¡°Derek.¡± The wizard snorted, pointing back at Jerry. ¡°Ask him.¡± Jerry waved. ¡°Hello. I¡¯m Jerry.¡± ¡°What did you do to my daughter, stranger?¡± ¡°She was surrounded by three bandits. I saved her.¡± Derek turned to the wizard. ¡°Is that true, Murdock? You didn¡¯t bring him in as a savior.¡± ¡°He¡¯s a necromancer,¡± the wizard spat out, drawing a wave of whispers from the villagers. Even Derek flinched. ¡°I found him surrounded by corpses and undead, with Holly¡¯s body in his grasp. He claims he saved her, as if we would believe him. He¡¯s a necromancer. You all know what that means. I suggest we eliminate him, right here and now.¡± ¡°Hmm.¡± Derek narrowed his eyes. ¡°Were those corpses of bandits?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± Murdock admitted, ¡°but so what? Even if he¡¯s telling the truth, he¡¯s a necromancer here to kill us all. Who¡¯s to say he wouldn¡¯t kidnap Holly and do unspeakable things after saving her? I was just lucky to catch him in the act and lure him all the way here.¡± Jerry blinked. He looked at the villagers surrounding him; they seemed scared, confused, and potentially aggressive. ¡°This is a misunderstanding,¡± he said. ¡°Your birth was a misunderstanding,¡± retorted Murdock. Jerry frowned and crossed his arms. ¡°Okay, that was witty but not very nice.¡± ¡°Are you asking me to kill my daughter¡¯s savior?¡± Derek frowned, his deep voice demanding the attention of the crowd. ¡°Think, Derek,¡± said Murdock, tapping his forehead. ¡°Necromancers are evil incarnate. I lured him all the way here. If we let him escape, he might kill hundreds of people, including all of us!¡± ¡°Evil people do not save daughters.¡± Derek crossed his arms, turning to Jerry. ¡°Are you really a necromancer?¡± ¡°I am.¡± Jerry nodded. ¡°In my defense, I¡¯m also a pretty good guy.¡± Derek chuckled before turning back to the wizard. When he spoke, his words were final. ¡°He saved my daughter. I am not killing him.¡± ¡°But he¡ª¡± ¡°Wait!¡± a voice came from the side as a plump man desperately pushed his way through the crowd. He stopped there, panting, with his hands on his knees. ¡°Wait, just wait! You can¡¯t start the hearing without me!¡± ¡°Mayor.¡± The two men nodded slightly. ¡°Just¡­give me a moment,¡± the mayor got out between heavy breaths. His head was bald and his clothing rich, with red, fluffy leather draped over his shoulders. Kind lines marred his face, while his eyes were bright and soft. He seemed like a pleasant next-door man, certainly not a mayor or any sort of authority figure. So, this is the village mayor, Jerry mused. He probably stopped to get dressed before coming. Then again, a village cannot have a mayor. If he wants to keep the title, maybe he has to dress up. ¡°Mayor!¡± Murdock exclaimed, turning around as if he¡¯d found salvation. He pointed at Jerry. ¡°He¡¯s a necromancer! We must kill him.¡± ¡°A necromancer!?¡± The mayor¡¯s mouth turned into an oval. ¡°He saved my daughter.¡± Derek retorted, still holding Holly¡¯s unconscious body. ¡°He¡¯s a benefactor.¡± ¡°But he¡¯s a necromancer!¡± Murdock hissed out. ¡°I don¡¯t give a shit!¡± The two men glared at each other; Murdock¡¯s expression displayed a clear disdain for the larger man, while Derek seemed enraged by the wizard¡¯s arrogance. His eyes were stony, his mouth clenched, and his entire being oozed straightforward stubbornness. This man clearly had the diplomatic grace of a particularly hot-blooded bull. Murdock finally looked away. He snorted as he turned to Jerry. ¡°You¡¯re lucky I didn¡¯t kill you on the spot, heathen. You should be ashamed. Magic is a heavy gift, and necromancers clearly buckle under its weight.¡± ¡°Leave him alone,¡± growled Derek, turning only his eyes. ¡°I¡¯m sick of your bullshit. This man saved Holly.¡± ¡°And then she mysteriously fell unconscious before this stranger tried to drag her away. For the love of Manna, Derek, use that empty rattle ball you have for a head. Do you really think a necromancer would help others? We live in fear because of them !¡± Murdock glared at Jerry, and embers flickered in his hands again. Clearly, he was running out of patience. Derek narrowed his eyes. ¡°If you harm him, I will harm you.¡± Murdock¡¯s embers flickered out. ¡°You¡¯re just a mundane. How dare you threaten me?¡± ¡°Mundane, you say. That¡¯s exactly the kind of shit that makes me wanna bash your head in, you wizard supremacist cunt.¡± They glared at each other again. Jerry already liked Derek. He seemed honest and simple, like Jerry himself. Murdock, on the other hand, was arrogant and close-minded. An unpleasant man, despite his talents. ¡°By Manna! Silence, both of you,¡± ordered the mayor, trying to stop any escalation. Both men turned to glare at him. He shrunk back. ¡°I mean,¡± he continued a bit more softly, ¡°let¡¯s think about it first. We shouldn¡¯t kill people lightly, right?¡± ¡°What?¡± The wizard¡¯s eyes widened in anger. ¡°He¡¯s a necromancer! His kind brought us the Curse, the Damn Wall, the Red Week!¡± ¡°So what? Necromancy is not illegal,¡± replied Derek. ¡°It¡¯s detestable.¡± ¡°But not illegal .¡± ¡°Let¡¯s just let the man speak,¡± the mayor said, and Jerry¡¯s heart fluttered. Finally, someone wasn¡¯t ignoring him! ¡°Yes?¡± he asked politely. ¡°Tell us about yourself, Mr.¡­¡± His voice trailed. Derek looked on amusedly, while Murdock seemed to be stewing in his robes. ¡°Jerry.¡± ¡°My name is Ashman. In the name of Manna, could you please tell us¡­everything, basically. Who are you?¡± Jerry smiled. ¡°I¡¯m Jerry,¡± he began. ¡°A friendly, wandering necromancer. I spent the last few months in the forest, but now I¡¯m searching for a home. I¡¯m also a shoemaker, if your village happens to lack one, and I really am a good guy. The books are lying about necromancers, trust me. I would know.¡± Murdock spat on the ground. ¡°Good necromancers and flying whales. He¡¯s full of lies.¡± Thankfully, the mayor ignored him. ¡°Shoemaker?¡± He raised a brow, still sweating from Murdock¡¯s and Derek¡¯s combined pressure. ¡°I didn¡¯t know necromancers could have such mundane professions.¡± ¡°Sure we can. I wasn¡¯t always a necromancer. By the way, if you decide not to fight me, can I stay here? You know, since I saved that girl.¡± The crowd burst into indignant whispers. For the second time in a day, Jerry had just thrown the question out there. Perhaps this wasn¡¯t the best time to bring it up, but months of solitude had made Jerry forget how tiresome human interactions could be. He was pretty sure they would refuse him anyway, so he just wanted to get it over with and leave. This surprise court against him was slightly insulting, and besides, he wasn¡¯t going to die. Derek, his new friend, seemed pretty reliable. Meanwhile, Murdock was about to explode. ¡°Absolutely not!¡± he declared. ¡°Stay here?¡± The mayor gasped, his eyes threatening to bulge out. Jerry thought that maybe he shouldn¡¯t have spoken so abruptly. If the mayor had a heart attack, wouldn¡¯t Murdock become even more annoying? Mayor Ashman didn¡¯t know what to think. This unkempt, goofy man who seemed as though he hadn¡¯t seen civilization in months was a mighty necromancer? A blight to the land? And he wanted to stay here? Oh, no, Melissa is going to kill me. He sweated even harder. But Mother Manna preaches mercy. What should I do? ¡°Ashman.¡± Derek raised a hand, and his deep voice stopped the crowd¡¯s whispers. ¡°It is late, and we are all tired. How about this; my house will be his prison for the night. We can discuss this again in the morning.¡± ¡°You plan to take this murderer into your house?¡± Murdock hissed, and Derek glared at him. ¡°You shut your ugly mouth. All you can do is talk. When my daughter was attacked by the bandits, where were you? You go on and on about your magic, but at the end of the day, you¡¯re just as useless as the rest of us. He saved her; he is my benefactor. Even if I die this night, I will not regret it.¡± The wizard¡¯s eyes widened in anger. He turned red and began shaking in his pointy shoes. Derek met Murdock¡¯s stare with calm resolution. ¡°Make no mistake, Murdock,¡± he said. ¡°This man saved you too. My daughter is all I have left, and you are responsible for protecting the village. That includes her. If your negligence had caused her harm, you would not live to see another dawn.¡± The wizard¡¯s eyes widened to the extreme. He seemed ready to lash out. ¡°I believe this is a fine idea,¡± the mayor spoke quickly. ¡°Under the eyes of Mother Manna, this man has shown no bad intentions toward us, and necromancers are not outlaws to begin with. If Derek is willing to brave the risk, so be it. We can meet again at dawn, not an hour later.¡± Murdock was almost as red as his robes. He turned around, stomping away. ¡°Suit yourselves,¡± were his parting words. ¡°Perhaps tomorrow our village will have one less idiot.¡± Derek snorted loudly but did not reply. ¡°Disperse, everyone.¡± The mayor waved his hands in the air, and the crowd dissipated slowly, sneaking glancing back Jerry¡¯s way. He smiled whenever he met someone¡¯s eye, but nobody smiled back. ¡°I expect to see you tomorrow.¡± Mayor Ashman gave a pointed look at the necromancer. ¡°Murdock can be a strict man, but he¡¯s not bad. I appreciate your actions in saving Holly. Don¡¯t make me regret this decision.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t worry, friend.¡± Jerry gave him his best smile. ¡°I told you. I¡¯m a good guy.¡± Ashman couldn¡¯t help smiling. ¡°I certainly hope so,¡± he replied, walking away. ¡°Goodbye, Jerry. May the Wall hold.¡± ¡°May it hold forever.¡± A heavy hand landed on Jerry¡¯s shoulder. Turning around, Derek was there, smiling widely. ¡°That wasn¡¯t a warm welcome, but I¡¯ll show you my best hospitality. Tonight, my house is your house.¡± Chapter 3: Derek the Hunter Derek lived in a lovely little house at the edge of the village, crafted entirely out of wood. Besides a small storage shack outside, there were exactly two rooms; the main one, which was a little bit of everything, and Holly¡¯s bedroom. Derek insisted that girls needed privacy and had built this extra room soon after her birth. There was also an outhouse, of course. What were they, animals? ¡°This is a nice house,¡± Jerry commented, taking it all in as Derek opened the door. ¡°Did you build it yourself?¡± ¡°Every plank and nail,¡± Derek replied lovingly, carrying Holly toward the house¡¯s only inner door. ¡°Make yourself comfortable. I¡¯ll be with you in a second.¡± Jerry, being the polite man he was, obeyed. He lounged deep in the second-largest chair he found, enjoying the feel of soft wool on his bottom. This was the first time he used a chair in gods know how long. Solitude was nice, but it had its drawbacks. This softness was almost heavenly on Jerry¡¯s tired bones. My bones¡­ Could I make myself into a skeleton? he wondered but shelved the thought for later. For now, the softness came first. The house¡¯s interior was as simple as its exterior. An iron hearth was grafted onto the wall, right next to Jerry¡¯s new favorite chair, with a stone chimney rising above it and through the roof. A small iron door blocked the hearth¡¯s mouth, preventing the cold air from coming in whenever the fire wasn¡¯t lit. There had even been a noticeable rise in temperature as soon as they walked in, making Jerry feel the need to remove his woolen coat Unfortunately, that would require standing up, and the chair was just too comfortable. Besides the wool-laden chair Jerry was resting in and another, similar but larger chair, the only pieces of furniture were a wooden table surrounded by three simple wooden chairs. A cupboard rested on a wall, probably hiding plates and cutlery, while two closed windows took up the sides of the house. Finally, a pile of tanned fur lay in a corner ¡ª probably where Derek slept. It was nice and clean. Derek was a simple man, which Jerry appreciated. He rested there for a moment, dozing off without realizing it. Only a door closing brought Jerry out of his little nap. Apparently, he was more tired than he¡¯d thought. ¡°What do you think?¡± Derek asked, walking into the room. ¡°Does my home satisfy you?¡± ¡°I think it¡¯s perfect. It suits you well,¡± the necromancer replied. ¡°And honestly, after months in the forest, this place is heaven. Especially this chair. How is your daughter?¡± Derek smiled. ¡°She¡¯ll be fine. Just a bit terrified, that¡¯s all. She¡¯ll wake up tomorrow with a headache and a hoarse throat, but nothing a good day¡¯s rest can¡¯t fix.¡± The large man took a seat, occupying the larger woolen chair by the hearth. He quickly rose again, remembering something. ¡°You must be cold. Wait here. I¡¯ll bring some wood from the storage.¡± Jerry wanted to refuse, but he really couldn¡¯t. He hadn¡¯t felt the warmth of fire or hospitality in¡­quite some time. It was better than he remembered. Derek smiled at his guest¡¯s expression and exited the house, returning a moment later with a pile of logs under his arm. ¡°These should last us a while,¡± he said, opening the hearth¡¯s mouth and revealing two half-burnt logs already inside, resting on a bed of coals. A cold breeze came in as the house was connected to the air outside. The sun had already fallen. ¡°Sorry about the draft. It will die down in a moment.¡± ¡°Ah, fire¡­ You¡¯re a generous host, Derek. Thank you.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t mention it.¡± The large man waved Jerry off as he set the tinder and logs up in a square shape, then got some flint to light it up. ¡°You¡¯re my family¡¯s benefactor, so it¡¯s only right we treat you properly. Besides, we outcasts should stick together. Could you describe what happened with Holly? I¡¯m sorry for the rush, but I would like to know everything.¡± Jerry smiled warmly. Then, as his host tended to the fire, he told the story of what happened. How he¡¯d heard screams and ran off to help, only for his skeletal minions to obliterate the bandits. How Holly had been terrified of everything, and how Murdock had mistaken him for the bad guy. He also added how the wizard¡¯s new scar was due to Foxy, at which point both men shared some hearty laughter. Disliking Murdock was mutual, apparently. Relaxed, Jerry went on to add more details to his story. He began from his lovable undead, Boboar and Foxy, before going into his own past, describing how he¡¯d been wandering in search of a village to live in, and that he was about to give up for the winter. His thoughts went back in time, speaking of his magic and how suppressing it had made him a husk of a man for the greater part of his life. How he had finally wavered, vented, then left his home forever to enter the woods. How he experimented with necromancy, how it wasn¡¯t evil, as people thought, and about all the exciting things he could achieve with it. ¡°One time, I animated a fox skeleton with boar tusks,¡± he said. ¡°It couldn¡¯t move very fast, but it liked to climb on tree branches and fall on unsuspecting prey tusk-first.¡± ¡°Where did you find such an animal?¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t find it; I made it. I can graft bones of different skeletons together. It isn¡¯t always easy, because I need to recreate all the fine joints and connection points with my magic, but just attaching tusks to the ends of a fox¡¯s jaws was simple. You should see Boboar; he¡¯s a double boar skeleton, meaning I connected two similar skeletons to create one with double the power and tenacity. He looks fierce, but he¡¯s actually a very good boy.¡± ¡°So you used complex magic to tie the two skeletons together? Why not rope?¡± Jerry opened his mouth to respond, then thought better about it. ¡°You know what?¡± he said. ¡°I never considered it, but I don¡¯t think it would work. I would need to animate each skeleton separately, which would make them two individuals tied together. I can explain bone grafting in more detail if you want.¡± ¡°Please don¡¯t. Just tell me about the most amusing skeletons you¡¯ve made.¡± Jerry obliged. Nothing beat the tusked fox, but there were many oddities amongst his early experiments. Derek laughed often. The deep, earnest sound vibrated with the wooden walls. At some point, Derek had retrieved a bottle and two cups from the cupboard, giving Jerry a strong kind of orange wine. He drank it carefully; it had been months since he¡¯d last touched alcohol. With the clay cup in hand, Jerry opened his heart and let everything out, all the little things he wanted to share with someone but hadn¡¯t been able to. Without realizing it, he talked for a long time; when he stopped, the moon was halfway up the sky, and the first two logs had already become coal in the bottom of Derek¡¯s hearth. ¡°Oh, sorry,¡± Jerry exclaimed, realizing he¡¯d spoken for longer than intended, ¡°did I overexplain? I wanted to add some context to the bandit encounter.¡± ¡°That¡¯s all right.¡± Derek smiled warmly. ¡°You needed it.¡±This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. ¡°Yeah, I did¡­ To be fair, you did ask for details.¡± Derek laughed, having drunk three quarters of the bottle himself. ¡°You seem like a good guy, Jerry. Allow me to apologize for Murdock again. He can be an asshole.¡± ¡°It¡¯s fine.¡± The necromancer sighed, huddling deeper in his oh-so-heavenly chair. ¡°It was an honest misunderstanding, and, well, my fox did almost kill him. Anyone would be upset.¡± ¡°Upset enough to demand the other person¡¯s lynching?¡± ¡°If the other person was a necromancer, many would do the same. But yeah, he does seem like an asshole. At least the rest of the village isn¡¯t.¡± ¡°You¡¯d be surprised,¡± Derek said darkly. ¡°Maybe they¡¯re not bad people, but they¡¯re stupid to a fault. Murdock often preaches that wizards are different, superior to us normal folk, and the idiots around here nod like pecking hens. They don¡¯t understand that he¡¯s mocking them or that, besides the ability to throw fire, wizards are as human as everyone else. Many of the villagers simply trust Murdock blindly; he¡¯s a wizard and a herbalist, so of course they do. Even Ashman does so, though his capitulation is out of necessity. Murdock¡¯s presence is too valuable.¡± ¡°Ashman¡­ That¡¯s the mayor, right?¡± ¡°Too grand a word for our little village.¡± Derek shook his head. ¡°Melissa, his wife, is an ambitious woman. Like Murdock, she enjoys feeling superior. She wants her husband to be the mayor, so he calls himself mayor.¡± ¡°She sounds like a great man of the house.¡± Derek laughed. ¡°In a way,¡± he said. ¡°Our little Pilpen needs someone at the reins, and those two are doing a good enough job.¡± ¡°Ah, Pilpen. I was wondering about the village¡¯s name.¡± Derek looked up in surprise. Jerry smiled. ¡°Oh, where are my manners? I assumed you knew.¡± The hunter huffed. ¡°Sorry, Jerry. This is Pilpen, in the vicinity of Milaris. We are a few houses of hunters, gatherers, lumberjacks, and herders. That¡¯s pretty much it. Merchants come occasionally to buy our wares and bring us vegetables from the plains, but you won¡¯t see them till spring. Their wealthy asses can¡¯t handle the cold.¡± ¡°You seem to like them.¡± ¡°They scam us for sport.¡± Derek snorted. ¡°But, let¡¯s not touch that subject. In the village, for starters, you need to know three people. Thankfully for you, you¡¯ve met them already: Ashman, our mayor and pastor, and Murdock, our wizard and herbalist. As for the third one, well¡ª¡± he pointed a thumb at himself¡ª ¡°that¡¯s me. I am a hunter, and a damn good one. In the forest, I run things.¡± ¡°Awesome.¡± Jerry smiled as the fire cracked. ¡°And why would I want to know these people?¡± ¡°It¡¯s important if you¡¯re going to settle here.¡± ¡°Settle here? But Murdock said I can¡¯t.¡± ¡°And I say you damn well can.¡± Derek asserted. ¡°I¡¯ll put in a good word for you. My opinion weighs as much as that asshole¡¯s, and the mayor is a good man, if a bit weak-willed. He won¡¯t let you go into the winter alone. Just¡­be careful, my friend. This world is harsh to outcasts.¡± ¡°Really? You¡¯ll help me?¡± Jerry¡¯s eyes brightened. ¡°Thanks, Derek. I owe you one!¡± ¡°You saved my daughter.¡± The hunter laughed. ¡°I owe you plenty still!¡± The two men kept chatting into the night, each enjoying the other¡¯s company. However, the moon eventually reached its peak, and they¡¯d have to get up early tomorrow. Before meeting the mayor at dawn, Jerry had to wash and shave. Though he didn¡¯t smell, he did look like a crazy hermit, according to Derek. Not the best image for an important meeting. ¡°And here I thought I looked decent,¡± Jerry said. ¡°Decent for someone who lives outside civilization. Don¡¯t worry, we¡¯ll fix you up tomorrow. Take the fur,¡± Derek said, pointing at the stitched row of furs that usually served as his bed. ¡°I¡¯ll sleep on the floor.¡± ¡°That¡¯s all right, I¡¯m used to sleeping on the ground. Been doing that for months already.¡± ¡°My friend, that¡¯s exactly why you need the furs!¡± The hunter smiled widely, and Jerry couldn¡¯t stop himself from smiling back. ¡°It¡¯s not much of a bed, but I can¡¯t let my guest sleep on the floor.¡± Jerry touched the tanned fur. It was smooth¡ªheavenly, even, just like the chair. Oh, how long it had been since he¡¯d slept on something soft. This pile of fur may not be much to Derek, but to Jerry, they were made of clouds. He lay down, full of happiness. Derek was a good man. As for the village of Pilpen¡­ It was probably as good a place as any. *** Morning arrived quickly¡ªand with the cock¡¯s crowing came the day¡¯s most important event. That¡¯s right; Jerry¡¯s grooming. With a borrowed blade from Derek and his outhouse¡¯s slanted mirror, Jerry somehow managed to make himself presentable. It turned out that a nice bath in the river, a clean shave, a set of new clothes, and a haircut by the village¡¯s best hunter could do wonders for a man¡¯s image. After that came the day¡¯s second most important event, the village council, and Jerry showed up all clean and fresh and civilized. The people there didn¡¯t even recognize him at first. Murdock objected fiercely to letting him stay. He believed that Jerry should be outright killed, not just kicked out. Derek then shut the wizard down, swearing that Jerry was, indeed, a good guy. ¡°What can he even do for us?¡± boomed Murdock. ¡°Scare our children into bed?¡± ¡°I can make shoes,¡± said Jerry, leading to many raised brows. He shrugged. ¡°Raising the dead is a side hustle.¡± ¡°See?¡± Derek grinned. ¡°Exactly what we needed!¡± Despite the wizard¡¯s insistence on the opposite, Derek¡¯s heavy guarantee eventually won the mayor over, and it was decided that Jerry could stay in the village at least until spring. However, there would be two conditions: The first was dictated by the mayor¡¯s wife, Melissa¡ªa beautiful, raven-haired woman with a sharp tongue who also participated in the village council alongside three more villagers who didn¡¯t speak much. Jerry would not be living inside the village, but rather in a residence an hour away. Atop a rocky hill stood an abandoned guard tower, where the kingdom used to station a contingent of soldiers to guard against bandits. That plan was eventually abandoned because the soldiers stationed there kept dying, and the building had fallen into disrepair. It would now be Jerry¡¯s, and he would be responsible for fixing it up. He didn¡¯t mind the work; after seeing Derek¡¯s home, he wanted to make a nice place for himself, too. He also didn¡¯t mind that his new home was an hour¡¯s walk away from the village. His last walk¡ªsearching for a place to call home¡ªhad lasted for about six months, and he was only half-tired by the end of it. The second condition had come from the mayor himself. Jerry had to promise to use his powers to protect the village from bandit attacks. That¡¯s what really convinced the villagers to let him stay, as the Greenskin bandits had moved closer to them this year and raids had already befallen several neighboring villages. Fear was high, and extra power was urgently needed. Jerry agreed easily; bandits were bad guys, while he was a good guy. They were natural enemies. Besides, he could also protect his new neighbors and gather corpses for his research. Three birds with one stone. Murdock was severely irritated by this idea, as he was the one responsible for the village¡¯s safety. He took this as an insult to his abilities. However, after Derek¡¯s stern reminder that it had been Jerry, and not Murdock, who had saved his daughter, the wizard was forced to shut up. The poor guy was so angry he almost ate his fancy hat. Nobody else had any objections, so the agreement was quickly made formal by shaking hands. Most of the villagers still gave Jerry the stink eye, but oh well. He wasn¡¯t here to make friends with everyone , only a select few. He was a lonely man by nature. And so, as the sun was still rising, Jerry left the village for his soon-to-be necromancer¡¯s tower. However, he had some important things to do first; get Boboar and Foxy, and then fetch yesterday¡¯s bandit corpses. They couldn¡¯t come to his tower themselves. Yet. Chapter 4: Chores First, Necromancy Second On the subject of souls, I must admit my fascination. For centuries, they have remained an enigma, both in their nature and specific qualities, but I believe I hold the key to unprecedented discoveries. Previous research indicates that, when undead rise, they inherit a part of the soul of the body¡¯s previous owner. This incomplete soul deteriorates with the amount of time between death and reanimation. Additionally, it does not contain any memories, barring extremely rare cases. What it does contain is the nature of the previous individual, which makes a pig behave like a pig and a human behave like a human. This excludes cases of soul infusion, of course. However, I have recently had the chance to meaningfully interact with the servants of a different necromancer, a circumstance we are often barred from due to enemies in between us. To my surprise, after continuous observation, I realized that that necromancer¡¯s undead behaved differently compared to my own! In light of this revelation, I theorize that when brought back to this world, the souls are warped by the nature of their summoner. If this is true, it could bring about a revolution in our studies and the way we think about souls! - An excerpt from ¡®Undead Souls and their Relation to the Summoner¡¯ by Ozborne the Cursed ? On his way out of Pilpen, the first thing Jerry did was fetch his friends. Boboar and Foxy waited in the bushes outside the village, quickly running up to Jerry the very moment they saw him. Their relief was palpable¡ªthey could sense that Jerry was safe, but they still worried about him. ¡°Hey there, guys.¡± Jerry smiled as they carefully rubbed against him. He would have scratched them behind the ears if they had any. Afterward, it was time to fetch the bandit corpses. They were right where he left them, completely untouched by the forest animals, which was a relief. Instead of reanimating the three bandits on the spot, Jerry chose to take them to his new tower so he could experiment with leisure. Boboar, being the superbly good boy that he was, helped carry the bodies, and so they simply walked to the abandoned guard tower. Clocks were luxury items meant for the merchants and kingdom officials who had to fit many obligations into their day. This goes to say that Pilpen, being the small village that it was, had no clocks, and while the villagers were vaguely aware of how long an hour was, they simply used the term to describe a period of time which was neither too short nor too long. It also helped them feel cultured, a feeling they very much enjoyed. In other words, the exact time it took to arrive at the tower was unknown, but Jerry, who also didn¡¯t have a clock, thought it could be said to be vaguely close to an hour. A figure waved at them from the tower¡¯s front. ¡°Hey!¡± Derek shouted as soon as they closed in. ¡°You got here quickly. It¡¯s only been an hour!¡± He had offered to help, and Jerry had sent him ahead with a cart of tools, not wanting to burden the man with corpse-keeping. ¡°I told you it would be fast. Boboar is a really good boy.¡± ¡°Takes after his master.¡± The large, tanned man bent down to take a better look at the skeletons. ¡°Hey little fellows. You¡¯re not at all disturbing like Murdock makes you out to be. You¡¯re a fox, and you must be the double boar Jerry mentioned?¡± ¡°They can¡¯t speak,¡± Jerry said with a laugh. ¡°They¡¯re magic. For all I know, they can sing and dance the chak-tak-tak.¡± ¡°Maybe in the future. Allow me to make the introductions¡ªguys, this is Derek, our new friend. Derek, this is Foxy, and this is Boboar. He¡¯s a combination of two boar skeletons into one.¡± Jerry¡¯s chest stuck out in pride. ¡°I spent all summer working on this guy. He¡¯s a double boar, hence Boboar.¡± ¡°I see,¡± the hunter said. He was a hardened man, unaffected by the skeletons and the rotting corpses they carried. He pointed behind him. ¡°Should we get to housekeeping?¡± The abandoned guard tower was placed atop a rocky hill close to the top of the mountain, giving it good visibility over this part of the mountainside. The only strategic drawback was that the ridge¡¯s spine stood a few hundred feet behind the tower, hiding whatever was behind it from view, but there was probably a reason why the tower had been placed here instead of there. The building itself resembled a gray, three-storied brick. The walls were vertical, with only the occasional narrow window and certainly no balconies, while the building¡¯s shape was rectangular to a fault. The roof was surrounded by battlements, allowing the inhabitants to shoot from cover in the event of an attack. However, there was no wall to be seen. As the tower was built on rocky terrain, there were no plants attempting a hostile takeover, and mice had also left it alone¡ªprobably. It had been abandoned last autumn, and all leftover food should have long been consumed by critters. What did exist, however, was tons of dust. Possible structural instability, too, but there wasn¡¯t much Jerry could do about that unless he magicked an engineer into existence. Staring at the massive building, the necromancer realized that he¡¯d thoroughly underestimated the monumental undertaking that would be cleaning this place. Even though he knew the art of letting time pass, wiping the floor for days on end would hardly be pleasant. ¡°Man, am I glad to be a necromancer,¡± he said, placing his hands at his waist. ¡°Take a step back, Derek. Oh, and you might want to look away. I¡¯m about to make some skeletons.¡± ¡°Please.¡± Derek snorted. ¡°I¡¯ve seen worse. You wouldn¡¯t believe how messy childbirth can be.¡± ¡°All right. Don¡¯t say I didn¡¯t warn you.¡± He¡¯d planned to slowly experiment with the bodies, but dirty problems called for dirty solutions. Raising his hands, he reached for his magic, grasping the invisible darkness that was his soul. Then, with a mental push, he forced it out of him and into the corpses. Into one of the corpses, actually; the one that Boboar had penetrated in the abdomen with his tusks. The spine and ribcage were still intact, thankfully.This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source. Jerry had never worked with human bodies before, and the sheer amount of energy it took to reanimate them was staggering; a far cry from even Boboar. As soon as he felt something click in the body, he stopped. Derek raised a brow. ¡°What¡¯s supposed to¡ª¡± Gore was a core part of any hunter¡¯s life. Derek hadn¡¯t batted an eye at the skeletal animals or the bandit corpses. When the skeleton ripped its way out of the flesh, however, he turned around and almost emptied his stomach right then and there. ¡°Holy fucking hell!¡± he shouted hoarsely. ¡°What the fuck, Jerry!¡± ¡°Told you it was messy.¡± The necromancer shrugged. ¡°Anyway, Derek, meet Skeleton One. Skeleton One, meet Derek.¡± The skeleton clacked its jaw. It was a normal human skeleton, no bits missing, despite its gruesome death. Contrary to what one might expect, the skeleton didn¡¯t look threatening. It stood there aimlessly, as if simply chilling, and looked around with the curiosity of a newborn. Its perfectly round skull even made it look cute, at least in Jerry¡¯s eyes. Derek seemed mortified, probably due to the bits and pieces of flesh still clinging to the skeleton, as well as the copious amount of blood and gore. Does necromancy make me immune to disgust? Jerry wondered before quickly deciding he didn¡¯t care much. ¡°Ah, there¡¯s a problem,¡± he realized. ¡°There is no water source nearby. Our friend will need to walk all the way to the stream.¡± ¡°Please,¡± Derek spoke weakly. He was pale but already better than before. ¡°But not in the village¡¯s stream, unless you want Murdock to come here with a pitchfork and a holy book. There is another stream in the forest, closer to here, in that direction.¡± He pointed south. ¡°It should be half an hour away, give or take.¡± ¡°Give or take what?¡± Jerry asked, inspecting his new creation. ¡°An hour. How would I know?¡± Boboar and Foxy had also approached the skeleton, fascinated by their new bony friend. They sniffed it and looked it over, while the skeleton also looked at them with curiosity. It developed a mind of its own far faster than the animals had, apparently. An interesting observation. ¡°All right.¡± Jerry sighed. ¡°Skeleton One, go wash in the stream over there. Make sure to scrub all the flesh off you. In fact, scrub yourself to the bone.¡± Derek facepalmed. ¡°Meanwhile, I¡¯ll raise the other two as zombies. They¡¯re messier in the long run, but cleaner in the short run. They can always be skeletonized when the job is done.¡± ¡°Do you intend to have them clean the tower?¡± Derek asked curiously, to which Jerry nodded. ¡°Fascinating,¡± murmured the hunter. Raising his arms again, Jerry made a corpse into a zombie, which took more magic power than a skeleton. A day in the forest hadn¡¯t let it decompose much, making the walking dead seem like a walking living, if one looked from very far away and in the dark. The most noticeable difference was the head, which was not attached to the rest of the body and only remained in place due to gravity and Jerry placing it there when the zombie was up. Foxy had torn its neck apart during the fight. Again, the animals approached to inspect the new arrival, but it simply stayed in place unmoving. Its soul seemed far less advanced than the previous undead. Was it due to being a zombie, or was there some other reason? An interesting question to pursue. As for the third and final corpse, it was the one that Boboar had stomped to death. Its torso was completely destroyed, along with the spine beneath, making it unsuitable for reanimation as a zombie, contrary to Jerry¡¯s plan. Here, Jerry had to take drastic measures. He first animated the bones, making them exit the body, much to Derek¡¯s horror. Then, he de-animated them before using a set of gloves that Derek had brought to mess with the bone structure. When he was done, he reanimated the skeleton. It stood up, and it was really quite short. Jerry had been forced to remove the middle part of its spine, crafting a skeleton that was only legs, shoulders, arms, and a head attached on top. It would be comical if it wasn¡¯t visceral. Okay, maybe it was still quite funny. He couldn¡¯t repair the headless zombie the same way, unfortunately, as that would require turning it into a skeleton. Just like the zombie, this skeleton showed no hints of intelligence. It simply stayed there unmoving, waiting for Jerry¡¯s commands. This refuted the previous theory¡ªzombies being unintelligent¡ªand raised many new questions. Was the soul¡¯s strength a product of luck? Was it related to the body¡¯s previous owner? How did these souls come to be, in the first place? What even was a soul? All interesting questions, and all needed further research. However, the chores came first. ¡°All right, Shorty, you go wash in the stream over there. Rub yourself clean,¡± Jerry ordered, to which the skeleton clacked in obedience and took off. ¡°And you, Headless, grab a broom and get to work. Our tower won¡¯t clean itself!¡± The zombie saluted, which made its head drop off. After a fit of massive disorientation, it placed its head under an armpit, grabbed a broom from Derek¡¯s cart with the other hand, and stumbled away towards the tower, tripping and falling at least two times. ¡°I have to admit,¡± Derek said, ¡°that undead are much less intimidating than I thought.¡± ¡°They are, aren¡¯t they? I get the distinct impression that they don¡¯t have to be goofy like this, but¡­I don¡¯t know. I kinda like it. They remind me of me.¡± ¡°So we should expect them to go on a walk and return next year?¡± Both men laughed. ¡°Actually,¡± Derek, continued ¡°what happens if the skeletons don¡¯t find the stream? My directions were pretty rough.¡± ¡°Then we¡¯ll have a series of very annoyed villages on our tail,¡± Jerry said. ¡°I have the feeling they¡¯ll just keep walking until they find water. Maybe they really will return next year. How funny would it be if they walked all the way to the Narrow Sea, took a quick dip, and then walked right back?¡± ¡°For us, very. For the villages on the way¡ªthat would be scared twice ¡ªnot so much.¡± ¡°Oh, well. I¡¯ll give better commands next time.¡± After a bit of bantering, the two grabbed a broom each from Derek¡¯s cart and got to cleaning. Boboar and Foxy also volunteered to help; thankfully, Derek had brought enough tools for everyone to work with. The man could certainly see ahead¡ªunlike Headless, who exhibited an uncanny inability to walk. As soon as they entered the tower, they found the zombie rolling on the ground behind the entrance, looking for his head. With his elementary intelligence, the coordination required was outright hellish. Jerry didn¡¯t hold it against the zombie; with time, he would grow smarter and used to his disability. Probably. He picked the head up and returned it to Headless, receiving a stare of gratification, which turned into abject horror when the zombie once again dropped the head. Sighing, they left Headless looking for his head and started cleaning. The two skeletons also returned after about an hour, all squeaky clean and ready to help. Chapter 5: Banditry Is a Thankless Job After a day¡¯s work for the undead and half a day¡¯s for the living, the abandoned guard tower was no longer abandoned, nor did it house any guards. Instead, it now belonged to a very satisfied necromancer, named Jerry, who had never in his life felt prouder at owning something. Shoes were nice, sure, but a tower was a tower, and what was a necromancer without his tower? Of course, there was still plenty of work to be done, but the building was at least habitable. Sometime around noon, Jerry and Derek had stopped working and started lazing about. Being a necromancer had its perks, and besides, Jerry didn¡¯t want to take advantage of Derek¡¯s goodwill. They¡¯d simply done the jobs that required a human mind. The more menial tasks, like wiping the endless dust off the floors, had been left to the tireless undead. There were three floors to the tower, each simpler than the last. The ground floor housed rooms for the guards, with five two-person bedrooms and one for only one person, presumably the commander. Decorated army-style, of course, which meant not at all. A flight of thin stone stairs later came the storage room. Probably. It was empty now, as everything of value had been ransacked by the villagers or bandits, and only a few broken arrows remained in a corner. On the third and final floor was a living room, or what resembled it. Wooden chairs sat around three tables while a stove rested in a corner, all too heavy and bulky to be carried away by the looters. Some cupboards still contained stuff, and it was so rotten and dirty and smelly that the cupboards were summarily removed and thrown down a nearby cliff. A few cooking utensils were spared, though; they could be useful. Above the third floor was the roof with its battlements, which would be useless to Jerry until he could procure bows and arrows. However, the most important part of the building was below ground, because there was a basement! Jerry was ecstatic! What self-respecting necromancer did not have a basement? It was only occupied by two half-filled water barrels and a ton of multi-legged insects, but it would soon serve as Jerry¡¯s laboratory. No sense in frightening guests with all the messy details. Of course, the house was filled with bugs, mostly cockroaches. Foxy took charge here, mopping the floor with the critters, and Derek procured two more fox bodies from the forest. Two skeletons were extracted from the corpses and set to bug hunting, while Derek strung the remaining flesh up to extract the blood and prepared a bonfire for later. It wouldn¡¯t be the best meal, but it would do. Night came, and Derek left after they ate, leaving behind his cart of tools. Jerry promised to return it soon and thanked him profusely for all his help. He then surveyed his little army of undead. There was Skeleton One, Shorty, Headless, Boboar, Foxy, and two extra foxes who did not get a name as they would be de-animated soon. Keeping up too many undead was tiring for Jerry, though he didn¡¯t know why. It wasn¡¯t some grand undead army, but he was getting there. Of them all, Jerry eventually decided to keep Headless as a zombie, even though they were a bit messier than skeletons. It would be handy to have a zombie close by for experiments, plus his intimidation factor was higher like this. As for the bandit corpses themselves, Jerry had rifled through their clothes and found nothing. Only a couple worn-out taels lined their pockets, which wouldn¡¯t be too useful in the villages here¡ªthey mostly traded through barter, not currency¡ªas well as their shortswords and the clothes they wore. None of this was immediately useful, so Jerry threw them in the storage room. Night came and passed, the necromancer sleeping in the guard commander¡¯s room, where the foxes had taken extra care to remove all bugs. The undead kept working through the night, tireless and with adequate eyesight. From last night¡¯s foxes, Jerry had crafted Headless a pair of leather strips that he used to keep his head at chest height, wrapping them around the base of his neck. Come next morning, the tower was mostly clean, so the undead were sent to gather water, food, and firewood. Then, they began cleaning again. Jerry spent the day putting his woodworking skills to the test; Headless used an axe to chop the wood into usable shapes, then Jerry used the nails and hammer provided in Derek¡¯s cart to fashion the wood into crude but serviceable furniture. He made a long bench. That¡¯s all. At least, he had tons of wood to spare for later, which was nice, and Headless was still chopping away at the poor forest. Tables and chairs were aplenty, as were beds, utensils, and the stove. Honestly, the tower was pretty set, especially after the bench he installed in the basement. It hadn¡¯t been abandoned long enough for the old furniture to rot. Now, only one thing was left to do. Grabbing a rough wooden pike, an equally rough wooden tablet, and a paintbrush from Derek¡¯s cart, he took off toward the entrance. A few moments later, a wooden sign was placed in front of the tower for all to see. ¡®Jerry Shoeson. Shoemaker.¡¯ Jerry looked at it and nodded in satisfaction. Finally, with the housework mostly done, it was time for something much more fun.The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°Oh, Shortyyy! Boneyyy!¡± Jerry called out, and the comically short zombie approached. The poor guy only reached the base of a normal person¡¯s chest as it lacked a torso. Jerry waited until Boney¡ªthe strangely cognizant skeleton who had outgrown the name Skeleton One¡ªarrived, too. ¡°Come with me, boys.¡± The necromancer gave them an evil grin. ¡°I suppose we¡¯re done with work, so it¡¯s experiments time!¡± ¡°Certainly, Master,¡± Boney replied. Jerry froze. ¡°Come again?¡± *** The central basin of the Axel ridge was occupied by thick, towering giants made of bark and wood. They were dark brown, though the light in the area was plenty. On the branches of some of these large trees were houses built entirely of wood, with hanging bridges connecting the different trunks. There were a few dozens of these houses, all exuding a natural air of tranquility. However, despite the place¡¯s serene atmosphere, there was no calmness to be found. The wooden treehouses, for all their beauty, were occupied by cutthroats, bandits, highwaymen, murderers, and all other kinds of ugly folk. This was the hideout of the Greenskin bandits, a bandit crew as feared as it was infamous, the terror of all nearby settlements. On the higher branches of the largest tree stood a hut sturdier than the others. Its walls were plain and not at all decorated, but its sole occupant¡¯s importance could not be overstated. A young bandit by the name of Brad arrived before this hut. He was blond, with piercing blue eyes and a square jaw, while his muscular chest was outlined by a white vest that seemed untouched by the forest¡¯s dirt. It hadn¡¯t been a year since he joined, but his cunning and ruthlessness had quickly earned him a rank close to the top. The unfortunate accidents that his superiors tended to suffer helped, too. ¡°Boss,¡± he said, hesitantly knocking on the door. He waited. A few moments later, a man¡¯s rough voice resounded. ¡°Enter.¡± Brad respectfully pushed the door open, revealing a clean, tidy interior filled with books and bookshelves, everything centered around one large, mahogany desk¡ªhow that had been carried all the way up here was a mystery. Atop the desk lay an open book, a goose-feathered quill, and a small ink box, while on the nearby chair sat a person that should, by sheer context, be calm and scholarly. Jericho looked anything but. He was a bronze-skinned titan of a man, large and full of tense muscle, barely fitting in the wide chair. His hair was long, dark, and straight, while his eyes were a deeply vivid green. Despite the sharp, plain clothes he wore, despite his serene expression and scholarly environment he placed himself in, Jericho still managed to strike the impression of a tiger ready to pounce; a loose, violent beast about to tear you limb from limb with its bare hands. Even standing in his presence was enough to make most men buckle. Just as Brad entered the hut, Jericho looked up from the open book as if engrossed in its contents. It was only a fa?ade, of course¡ªthis was Jericho¡¯s deepest, most sacred secret, a taboo so great no one would mention it. Though he enjoyed looking cultured, Jericho couldn¡¯t read. This was a secret every bandit knew already, but who dared tell him? Their leader was infamous for abrupt bursts of violence. ¡°Speak, Brad,¡± said Jericho, his voice deep and commanding. ¡°We lost three men near the village of Pilpen, sir,¡± the younger bandit said. ¡°They either ran away or were killed.¡± ¡°What is the village of Pilpen?¡± ¡°It is to the west, sir. A tiny village two days away, that three men had been sent to scout out a week ago. They did not return.¡± ¡°I see,¡± Jericho said. Brad held his breath. ¡°You have a strong mind, Brad. What do you think? Did they desert us?¡± ¡°I¡­ Thank you, sir. I believe they ran away. Dying at such a tiny village would be unlikely.¡± Brad¡¯s voice carried reserved confidence, the kind he knew superiors liked. It saved them the trouble of thinking themselves. ¡°Good,¡± Jericho said. ¡°Then¡ª¡± ¡°Send twelve men to the village,¡± Jericho ordered. ¡°Whether they deserted or died, it matters little. They disappeared near that village, and so the village must burn. Let them pay, and let all others know the fate that awaits them should they cross us¡ªthis is how we, the Greenskin bandits, act.¡± ¡°Very well, sir.¡± Brad bowed and walked backward, ready to leave. ¡°And, Brad?¡± called out the chief. ¡°Yes, sir?¡± ¡°Most of the men call me boss or chief¡­ Only you call me sir. You are a cultured man, Brad; I like that about you, so do try to keep your head on your shoulders¡ªunlike everyone else¡¯s, it seems to work. I expect great things from you.¡± ¡°You honor me, sir.¡± Brad bowed deeper. ¡°I¡¯ll do my best.¡± Jericho nodded, turned back to the book he pretended to read, and Brad closed the door behind him. He smiled. Oh, what a bright future I have. Chapter 6: Fierce Experimenting As dictated by the laws of magic, every power has a drawback. For pyromancers, it is their fire¡¯s voracious need for energy. For necromancers, it is the strain we must endure to sustain our undead. When we control an undead, we not only need to maintain the bonds between its body and soul, but also provide enough energy to constantly wrestle the soul under submission and force it to obey us. Otherwise, the undead collapse or rebel, running off and causing mayhem. It is this second requirement, the constant suppression of the soul, which imposes the greatest strain. And great it is. The creation of wild undead is another subject, but even the most ancient of liches cannot directly control more than a hundred undead at a time. In the first years of a novice necromancer, controlling even three is an achievement. If we could somehow permanently place the soul under our control, that would increase our powers exponentially. Unfortunately, despite the combined efforts of many two-feather necromancers over the years, despite what torture, blackmail, and hypnotism we tried, we have still not found a way to make the soul submit. - From Introduction to Necromancy by Akolateronim ¡°I said, certainly, Master.¡± Jerry threw the skeleton an incredulous gaze. ¡°You can talk?!¡± ¡°Of course. Why wouldn¡¯t I?¡± Boney¡¯s voice was a bit hoarse and raspy, but otherwise resembled the voice of a healthy man made up of more than just bones. The largest difference was that his jaw clacked as he spoke, making funny noises. ¡°You lack vocal cords, for starters. And a throat. And a mouth. And lungs.¡± ¡°Hmm, that I do.¡± Boney looked over himself. ¡°Now that you mention it, Master, it does seem odd.¡± Jerry placed his hands on his hips. ¡°Why didn¡¯t you tell me you could speak?¡± ¡°Because you never asked,¡± the skeleton replied matter-of-factly. ¡°I assumed you knew.¡± ¡°But I¡ªBah, never mind. At least I know now.¡± Jerry turned to the other skeleton. ¡°Can you speak as well?¡± Shorty looked on. ¡°Yeah. I guess I did remove your torso. If you can speak, just do a hand gesture or something.¡± The skeleton somehow managed to look confused, even without a face. ¡°Okay, I guess you don¡¯t.¡± Jerry turned back to Boney. ¡°But you can. Why?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know, Master. I am not the necromancer here.¡± Ouch. ¡°Hey, I¡¯m new to the job. Still working on the basics.¡± ¡°Same here.¡± Jerry regarded Boney carefully. Having a talking, thinking skeleton sounded convenient. Now, Jerry could have some company, and Boney could also take on more complicated tasks than ¡®chop wood¡¯ or ¡®wipe the floor.¡¯ Jerry thought for a moment and concluded that, indeed, he liked talking skeletons. He nodded to himself and crossed his arms. ¡°All right, then, Boney. I have to admit you¡¯re interesting. Tell me about yourself.¡± ¡°I was a bandit, Master, I remember that much, until I was slain by the hellish beast you call Boboar. I had a name, too, Tom, though Boney suits me better now.¡± ¡°It does, doesn¡¯t it?¡± Jerry nodded, happy that his new friend appreciated his excellent naming sense. ¡°So, you¡¯re one of the bandits I, uh, gently put down?¡± ¡°Violently murdered, Master. But yes. I was Tom, or at least I think I was. I know the things he knew. Does that make me him?¡± ¡°That¡¯s a deep thought for a guy who probably can¡¯t count to ten.¡± ¡°On the contrary, Master.¡± Boney proudly raised his head. ¡°I can count up to a hundred!¡± That wasn¡¯t too bad. In a world where education was reserved for the noble or rich, and where a villager would rarely if ever need to use a number above twenty, counting to a hundred was an achievement. In fact, Jerry himself could only count to a hundred, too. ¡°Then, did Tom¡¯s soul somehow remain intact inside you? Why just you, though? What was different compared to the others? Perhaps because they were severely deformed?¡± ¡°I do not know, Master.¡± ¡°But you remember everything?¡± ¡°Mostly,¡± Boney said. ¡°I remember all about Tom¡¯s family, his friends, his fears, his dreams, his bitter disappointment with himself and the following need to run away and become a worm-eating bandit. Nothing too important. The fact that I used to be someone so plain chills me to the bone. Thank Manna you came, Master¡ª actually, wait, we can¡¯t believe in her anymore, can we? Who¡¯s our patron now? Desistos, the God of Death?¡± Jerry blinked. Those were many words, and had the skeleton snuck in a bone pun? Jerry was uncertain. Maybe it was accidental. However, words and bones aside, there was one thing every proper necromancer needed. Boney fit the bill perfectly; he could even count! ¡°Boney,¡± he said with pride, ¡°you have just been promoted to my undead butler. Congratulations!¡± ¡°A meaningless promotion? Yay!¡± Boney¡¯s jaw clacked excitedly. Jerry wasn¡¯t sure whether he was being made fun of. ¡°Everything will be as you wish, Master. I will work myself to the bone for you.¡± Okay, this one was definitely on purpose. ¡°I have the feeling most necromancers don¡¯t have to deal with this kind of thing.¡± Jerry grabbed his face and sighed. ¡°By the way, your name was also promoted. You are now Tom Boney. I like the sound of it.¡± ¡°Very well, Master. I will not disappoint you.¡± Tom Boney stood at attention. ¡°What should I do, though?¡± ¡°Well, you can start by building a fence around the property. Have Headless help you out. I¡¯m thinking maybe fifteen feet from the walls. I technically own everything around here, but let¡¯s start small.¡± ¡°Actually, Master, the king owns everything around here. Technically.¡±Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work! Jerry raised a brow. ¡°An easy problem. Tom Boney, from this moment forth, we rebel, and we are founding our own kingdom where I am king and you are the¡­vice-king. From now on, this tower belongs to the Kingdom of Shoemakery and Undeathly Shenanigans.¡± ¡°Ah yes, a name fit for a proper Kingdom.¡± ¡°It¡¯s descriptive. Why would someone name their Kingdom something nonsensical, like Escarbot? I believe it means ¡®beetle¡¯ in some ancient language, but does it really matter if nobody knows? Anyway, our land includes this tower and fifteen feet around it, with plans of future expansion. See any army here to stop us? No? Then, I declare the rebellion a success, and you can proceed with building a wall.¡± Jerry stared at the skeleton, squashing any other retort before it even appeared, or at least he tried. ¡°First butler, then vice-king. I do love empty job titles. This is the happiest day of my unlife,¡± Boney replied flatly. ¡°If only I can find a way to develop non-sarcastic undead, life will be perfect.¡± Jerry sighed, though he was secretly proud of his undead army¡¯s newest addition. ¡°Now, Boney, get to work while I head downstairs with Shorty. There is a fence to build, and much knowledge to be found!¡± ¡°As you command, Master.¡± Boney nodded and immediately took off toward the forest, where Headless was mindlessly chopping wood. Jerry watched him leave. This was an unexpected but pleasant surprise. If only he could fix the humor¡­ Shaking his head, Jerry grabbed Shorty¡¯s shoulder and led the poor sod inside, talking all the while. The skeleton couldn¡¯t respond, of course, but Jerry liked thinking out loud. ¡°These are the rooms for you¡±¡ªhe pointed at the many doors down the hallway¡ª¡±though you don¡¯t actually need to sleep. Still, having a room is basic propriety. That one, the big one, is mine. Say, Shorty, what should we do with you? You are pretty short, which is bound to be useful, somehow, but how indeed? Hmm.¡± Jerry kept speaking as they descended the stone staircase, entering the tower¡¯s dark bowels. ¡°Say, Shorty, I forgot to ask Boney, but you don¡¯t feel pain, right?¡± The skeleton nodded. ¡°That¡¯s great! You¡¯re my undead, but also my friends. I wouldn¡¯t want to hurt you.¡± He then set Shorty on the rough wooden bench and proceeded to hurt him. Of course, he did temporarily de-animate Shorty before he began. Pain aside, this simply felt better. Jerry had big plans for this guy. Well, not originally, but some interesting thoughts came as he played around. Jerry was very self-conscious about his place in the world. He wasn¡¯t stupid. Many people despised necromancers, and if he stayed in the same place for a long time, trouble was bound to come. He needed the strength to protect himself, which meant he needed an undead army¡ªeven a small one. Murdock¡¯s hostility and power had driven that point home. Jerry didn¡¯t fear death, of course, but that didn¡¯t mean he wouldn¡¯t play the game of life. So, back to Shorty¡¯s business. Due to being mostly limbs, Shorty was very agile. He was also fast, as his body was lighter than expected while maintaining most of the strength of a whole man. How exactly that worked was still a mystery, though Jerry would unpack it with time. Due to his agility, Shorty was perfectly built for being a stealthy, deadly skeleton; Jerry¡¯s protector in the shadows. Therefore, banking on that deadliness, Jerry experimented with bone shaping. He used a sharp knife¡ªthank Desistos for Derek¡¯s cart of tools¡ªto sharpen the tips of Shorty¡¯s digits, turning his hands into collections of blades. If he could also make the fingers glisten, Shorty would become an extremely intimidating shorty. He also noticed that Shorty¡¯s teeth were jagged enough to be sharp, which was convenient. When the deed was done, the necromancer stepped back and admired his creation. If enemies appeared, Shorty would spread terror in their ranks like a knife spreading butter on bread and, if that didn¡¯t work, oh well, at least he¡¯d had his fun. Experimenting gave Jerry profound amounts of joy, and he was unsure whether this was an innate property of necromancy or if he was simply built for it. He just had to remember not to take this skeleton to the village. Done with this part of the work and tired already, Jerry reanimated Shorty and had him walk around. He couldn¡¯t be sure, but the skeleton somehow felt a bit more bloodthirsty, and not just in appearance. Were undead influenced by their bodies? An interesting theory, and it would explain why Headless seemed slow even by undead standards. To test this, Jerry de-animated and reanimated Shorty a few times. Nothing changed. The soul obviously remained the same, so he wasn¡¯t ¡°killing¡± him every time. He then decided to test the limits of Shorty¡¯s understanding. He ordered the skeleton to perform several tasks, increasing the complexity as he kept succeeding. As it turned out, undead¡ªor at least Shorty¡ªcould guard a place, hunt cockroaches, and do any other simple task. However, if any sort of initiative was required, they failed. For example, Shorty couldn¡¯t for the love of him open the door until Jerry demonstrated how to use the doorknob. It took some time, but when the skeleton got the concept, he could then open the door without specific instructions. This proved that skeletons could learn, which was extremely important. Then, Jerry de-animated and reanimated Shorty. The doorknob once again became his mortal enemy. Apparently, undead lost their memories when de-animated, the same way they did when the bodies originally died. Except Boney. Jerry had to remember not to de-animate any of his more important, self-aware undead. This brought into question the subject of souls. Were memories not part of the soul? And what was the soul, really? So far, Jerry had been too engrossed in the magic bonds holding everything together to pay it much attention. That would change now. It was knowledge time. Therefore, Jerry cupped his chin and got to thinking. What happened when someone died? He had killed things a few times using necromancy. He could use his magic to forcefully sever body and soul in small forest creatures. What happened was that the infinite tiny bonds connecting the soul to the body¡ªthe natural bonds, ones much more intricate than what he could create¡ªwere dissolved in the face of his magic. If the soul suddenly lost its connection to the body, it was natural for the latter to simply slump down and die, but what happened to the soul itself? Jerry had no idea, but as much as he tried, he simply couldn¡¯t inspect a soul. To his magic senses, it was an impenetrable ball of light in the core of every living creature. However, he wondered why the natural bonds between body and soul were so much more intricate than his, which seemed just good enough for the job. He soon reached a conclusion. What he was doing was stringing a body and a soul together. He added rough tethers from the soul to important joints and from every bone to the next, creating an operational vessel for the soul to drive. What the natural bonds did was intertwine body and soul on such a deep level that they practically became one entity. The two methods were leagues apart, and while Jerry wasn¡¯t certain of the natural way¡¯s benefits, there had to be some, and they ought to be massive. After a few minutes, he decided to experiment with his killing ability, the one he decided to name Soul Severing. After all, if the body¡¯s natural bonds were better than his own, maybe he could maintain some of them while killing a creature, saving himself time and energy later. Unfortunately, after experimenting on a few nearby ants, that turned out to be impossible. The natural bonds were so perfect that they all crumbled together or not at all. Jerry wasn¡¯t discouraged. Theories and ideas kept darting around in his mind as if he¡¯d been opened to a whole new world of knowledge. In the end, even though he didn¡¯t make headway on the grandest questions he had, he did discover a few things. The first was that souls got stronger the larger their body was¡ªa nearby cockroach helped him compare against the ants. And, the stronger the soul, the harder it was to break the bonds and kill it through Soul Severing¡ªwhich, incidentally, only had a range of a few feet. The second piece of knowledge was that souls were somehow connected to the bodies on a different, much deeper level than what he could access. He knew this because he¡¯d moved the bandit corpses here before reanimating them; the soul had obviously come along, and therefore had been stuck inside the body even though the bonds had been broken on death. It couldn¡¯t be as simple as a fleshy prison. After all, souls were immaterial. The third piece of knowledge was that, when he learned a lot of things at once, he needed some time to cool off. Time for a break. Standing up, Jerry stretched, suddenly finding himself sore. He had no idea how long he¡¯d spent experimenting, but it had to have been hours. He was mentally exhausted, so he decided to call it a day. Exiting the tower alongside a significantly confused Shorty, Jerry saw that the moon had risen. Sharpening those bones had taken longer than he thought. No wonder he felt exhausted. He would eat some fox meat and go to sleep, but there was one important thing to take care of first. Boney and Headless had been tasked with building a fence and, apparently¡­ Wait a moment. That¡¯s not a fence. Chapter 7: Using Shoes as Coins When Jerry exited the tower, he found himself staring not at a fence but a veritable wall. Or, at least, a small part of a wall. When he said ¡®fence,¡¯ he¡¯d meant sparse wooden stakes on the ground, maybe with a loose array of planks connecting them. It would be a barrier with little practicality, built for the sole reason of marking one¡¯s territory. However, Jerry had not given detailed instructions, and Boney had taken the task to heart. For the small part of the wall that had been constructed¡ªbarely nine feet in length¡ªthick wooden stakes had been lodged in the ground in three-foot intervals. Tightly connected planks extended between them, blocking access and view from the outside while stretching to a height of only four feet, for now. When Jerry saw them, Boney was busy painting the wall black¡ªthank Desistos for Derek¡¯s cart of tools¡ªwhile Headless was chopping wood into rough planks and stakes. Boboar burst out of the forest, carrying a bunch of thick branches between his tusks, while Foxy was nowhere to be seen. ¡°Master!¡± Boney exclaimed as soon as he spotted the necromancer, putting his paintbrush down and sticking his chest out. ¡°Your fence is under construction, Master!¡± ¡°Yahhh!¡± Headless made a wordless cry, saluting against his head which hung at chest height. ¡°Don¡¯t lose your head¡­¡± Jerry muttered back. Boboar, too, squealed and rushed to Jerry¡¯s side to be petted, dropping the wood he was carrying. ¡°Guys, that¡¯s¡­¡± Jerry was lost for words, absent-mindedly rubbing Boboar¡¯s skull. ¡°You probably had something simpler in mind, Master,¡± Boney said with pride, ¡°but you deserve only the best! We refuse to give anything less!¡± ¡°Yahh!¡± Headless cheered again, all three workers looking at their master proudly. Jerry looked at all the work they¡¯d put in for him. Even though they were undead, hence tireless, it was still touching. ¡°Good job, everyone!¡± he shouted back, eliciting another round of cheers. ¡°This will take more time to be completed, but it doesn¡¯t matter. Good work takes precedence. Just make sure to keep it at the present height, please. We don¡¯t want to come off as too intimidating.¡± ¡°As you command, Master.¡± Boney bowed. Jerry smiled. He liked being a necromancer. The night that followed was cold and windy, and Jerry did not feel tired anymore. The tower had a stove that doubled as a heater, and they had plenty of wood to burn. He called his undead friends to the last floor, where the stove was located, and created a warm, homely atmosphere for them all. He grabbed a cup of alcohol¡ªDerek had stashed a bottle in his cart of tools, bless that man¡ªand some leftover fox meat, creating a feast. Only Jerry himself could partake in it, unfortunately, but the undead didn¡¯t mind. He then grabbed a thoroughly cleaned blanket from a random guard room and laid it over his legs, sitting on a sturdy wooden chair. Boboar lay next to him, the skeleton¡¯s head at petting level, while Foxy lay on Jerry¡¯s legs. When he moved her a bit, the bones weren¡¯t painful. She was pretty light. Boney, Shorty, and Headless all took up their own chairs by the fire, looking pleased. Jerry suspected they could not feel the comfortable heat, but their master¡¯s pleasure and attention made them happy regardless. They spent a few hours just sitting there, relaxing by the fire and enjoying each other¡¯s company. Jerry spoke of stories and legends he knew, such as the time a giant moth swallowed part of the sun and became the moon, or the time he had been forced to run around the village naked on his birthday because the neighbors had stolen his clothes. Jerry realized he missed home a bit, but not much. In all honesty, there was nothing much to miss there, and the nightmare of a life he¡¯d led had extinguished any good feelings he might have otherwise harbored. Even his family was faint in his mind. He would probably visit them at some point, but for now, he was walking his own path, as all people should eventually do. This was his home now. Tom Boney joined in on the fun, speaking stories of his past life as a bandit, along with all the fun stuff that happened to bandits. They¡¯d captured a traveling bard once and had him compete in a jokes competition with one of their gang, who was also a bard. The traveling bard won and was set free¡ªwithout his valuables, of course. Another time, a bandit had drunk so much that he¡¯d tried to make out with a wooden log on which somebody had painted a woman. Tom and Jerry laughed at the stories, while the rest of the undead shared in the mirth, even though they had trouble comprehending what was said. Headless even tried to play some music, rhythmically banging his chest with his head like a gong. It was a cute failure. For the first time in sixteen years, in an abandoned guard tower, in front of a warm fire and surrounded by undead friends¡­Jerry truly felt at home. *** The next day, Jerry decided it was time to visit the village again. Most of the housekeeping jobs were done so he had to return Derek¡¯s tools, plus he could buy the shoemaking equipment he needed. There used to be a shoemaker in the village a few years ago, as Derek had informed him, and the mayor had stored his equipment away after he¡¯d died. Jerry could buy it now and repay the village with his services. Of his undead, Boney and Headless would be left behind to guard the place. They were hard at work making the wall, anyway. Shorty, Boboar, and Foxy would follow Jerry. He didn¡¯t intend for them to enter the village or meet any villagers, but they would be hidden nearby, just in case. After the last time his life had been threatened by Murdock, Jerry had grown a bit wary. The village of Pilpen was a short hour¡¯s walk away, and that time passed in a blink. Jerry was so used to walking for days on end that this short timespan didn¡¯t even register. Hiding the skeletons in a thick patch of bushes just outside the village, Jerry casually walked inside the settlement, pushing Derek¡¯s cart. The villagers gawked at his arrival; whether they¡¯d forgotten about him or expected him to run away after the incident with Murdock, he didn¡¯t know, but nobody spoke to him. Jerry didn¡¯t speak to anybody either, besides a few awkward good mornings. He didn¡¯t mind. Whistling, he reached Derek¡¯s home and knocked on the door, expecting the large hunter to appear. Instead, his daughter did; Holly, the girl that Jerry had saved from the bandits. She wore a pink dress this time, reaching all the way to her ankles. ¡°Hi,¡± Jerry said jovially. ¡°How have you been, Holly?¡± ¡°Hi¡­¡± she replied. Her eyes darted from left to right, not finding any undead, and only then did she relax a bit. ¡°I, uh¡­ I¡¯m good. Shocked, still. But good.¡± ¡°That¡¯s great. If I saved you only to have you collapse later, that would be tragic.¡± He laughed, while Holly did not. Jerry realized his joke was mistimed. She was clearly shaken, and her wide-eyed stare made him uncomfortable. ¡°So,¡± he asked, ¡°is your father home?¡± ¡°He¡¯s out hunting.¡± ¡°I see.¡± A short silence ensued. ¡°Well, I just came by to drop this cart and say hi. I¡¯ll come by again before I leave the village, but if Derek still isn¡¯t back, tell him he¡¯s invited to my tower for drinks whenever he wants. He can bring whoever he wants to, as well.¡± ¡°All right¡­¡± she responded hesitantly, and Jerry¡¯s invitation seemed to find her hesitant.Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings. ¡°Well, have a nice morning,¡± the necromancer called out as he turned to leave. Seeing Holly afraid of him was sad, but what could he do? It would pass. ¡°Jerry?¡± she asked, making him turn around. She clenched her fists. ¡°I¡¯m¡­ Thank you for saving me. I really appreciate it, I¡¯m just a bit scared right now, okay? That¡¯s all. I- I really do think you¡¯re a nice person.¡± Jerry blinked, then smiled. ¡°You¡¯re welcome,¡± he said. ¡°It¡¯s okay to take your time. Everybody feels weak occasionally. Just be you, be honest to yourself, and everything will be fine.¡± Her eyes widened in surprise. ¡°Thank you¡­¡± she said after a moment. ¡°No problem. I got to go now. See you around, Holly!¡± With a final smile, Jerry turned around and left, letting her puzzled eyes linger on his back. He then walked through the tiny village, enduring the villagers¡¯ hard stares. He whistled in return. If they wanted to look at him, he didn¡¯t particularly mind. Arriving at the largest house, he knocked on the door twice. A short tower rose from the back of the building, which also doubled as a church to Manna, the Goddess of Life. The door creaked open. ¡°Hello?¡± came a woman¡¯s voice, and her eyes darkened as she took in Jerry¡¯s form. ¡°Oh, it¡¯s you,¡± she said, quite not invitingly. He remembered her; this was Melissa, the mayor¡¯s wife, who had sided with Murdock at the village council. She was a beautiful, raven-haired woman with a glare that could pierce wood. A long green shift made of linen covered her, over which she donned a sleeveless woolen tunic secured at the shoulder with brooches. Two chains hung from these brooches, each with a key attached to its end. It was a convenient way to carry things, given that most people didn¡¯t have pockets. ¡°Hi,¡± Jerry said. ¡°I¡¯m here for the mayor.¡± ¡°What for?¡± she asked sharply. He frowned. While Jerry was an easygoing person, he did not particularly enjoy being treated rudely. ¡°To buy the shoemaker¡¯s equipment he has,¡± he replied. ¡°Can I come in?¡± ¡°I guess you can,¡± she responded after a moment of hesitation. ¡°But refer to me as mayoress, please.¡± ¡°Ah yes, a title that speaks of your abilities. It means you were chosen as the people¡¯s leader, right?¡± It didn¡¯t. She just happened to be the wife of that person. ¡°I actually know a skeleton with an equally meaningful title.¡± The woman stared daggers, and Jerry smiled pleasantly. Before she could respond, a rotund man walked into the room, wearing the tunic and leggings common to the people around here. His round eyes sparkled with spirit. ¡°Jerry!¡± he said, with an enthusiasm that was abandoned in short order when he noticed his wife¡¯s murderous gaze. ¡°May Mother Manna¡¯s light shine upon you. How can I help you today?¡± he continued, noticeably more flatly. ¡°Hi there, Mayor. I¡¯m interested in buying the shoemaking equipment that Derek told me you have.¡± ¡°Ah, yes, old Jerome¡¯s. He had no children, so the village got it when he passed. I think it¡¯s in the basement, somewhere¡­ Would you enjoy some milk while I look for it?¡± ¡°Sure.¡± ¡°I was in the middle of weaving, unfortunately, so I cannot keep you company,¡± Melissa said. She then quickly took off, leaving the two men alone in the room. ¡°She¡¯s a busy woman,¡± the mayor, Ashman, said. He coughed into his hand, clearly embarrassed. ¡°And a bit twitchy as of late. Come, let me fetch you a cup, and then I will have to trouble you to wait.¡± ¡°That is no problem. I enjoy letting time pass.¡± The mayor led Jerry to a woolen chair which felt like heaven . It reminded him that he had to create one of these for himself. Ashman then poured Jerry a cup of milk and took off for a flight of stairs, heading downwards. Jerry waited. The mayor lived in quite the opulent house; besides the shiny yellow sphere placed prominently above the fireplace¡ªManna¡¯s symbol, though this one wasn¡¯t actual gold¡ªanimal hides covered parts of the wooden walls, while random ornaments decorated the tables. Jerry immediately assumed this extravagance was Melissa¡¯s addition. Ashman seemed like a simple man, and Derek had told Jerry that Melissa was the one who wanted them to be called mayor and mayoress. This was Ashman¡ªa simple, spirited man, but one weak of will. He was soft, agreeable, and friendly, or so it seemed. Jerry sighed. The milk, however, was quite pleasant. ¡°There you go.¡± Ashman rose from the stairs. He carried a basket of tools in one hand and a long green apron, traditionally called a napron, in the other. ¡°The whetstone and buffet are missing,¡± he continued, referring to the three-legged stool that shoemakers used as a workbench, ¡°but I trust you can craft your own. Old Jerome had them, of course, but somebody¡¯s got to be resting their feet on that buffet right about now. The knives and stitching tools should all be here.¡± ¡°At this time of the day, I doubt anybody¡¯s resting. But that¡¯s excellent, Mayor,¡± Jerry exclaimed with joy, examining the basket, ¡°you have the complete Saint Hugh¡¯s Bones!¡± ¡°Uh¡­ Excuse me?¡± ¡°That¡¯s the actual name for a shoemaker¡¯s toolkit. It wasn¡¯t a pun, I promise.¡± ¡°Okay. Then, yes, it should be quite complete. It was not upturned, so I reckon that everything is still inside.¡± ¡°Thanks, Mayor. Now, as for payment¡ª¡± ¡°You can simply repay us with your services,¡± Ashman cut him off. ¡°These are useless to me anyway. A new shoemaker for the village is worth far more than these things.¡± Jerry looked at the mayor¡¯s feet, finding them clad in wooden shoes called clogs. Not the most comfortable coverings, but the best an untrained man could make himself. ¡°I¡¯ll craft you a nice pair of goatskin sandals, mayor,¡± Jerry said. ¡°And one for your wife, too. Maybe that will honey her up.¡± ¡°Manna knows she needs it,¡± Ashman whispered, then laughed. ¡°Thank you, Jerry. Know that the village appreciates your presence, even if we don¡¯t always show it.¡± ¡°Yeah¡­¡± Jerry thought to the people outside and their glares. ¡°In any case, I have to get going; there are still some things I need to acquire. Thank you for the milk. Feel free to visit me whenever; I have several extra beds. Maybe you can talk to Derek and come together?¡± ¡°When I find the time, I will certainly do so.¡± The mayor smiled again. ¡°Here, have this goatskin as well. Melissa had bought some to make a new tunic, but she hasn¡¯t gotten around to it in months. Herbalism is just too intriguing, it seems.¡± ¡°Herbalism is very useful,¡± Jerry agreed. He¡¯d once tripped and fallen on a patch of nettle, and only the village¡¯s herbalist could save him from the incessant itching. ¡°It is, though I wish it left her more time for our home,¡± Ashman spoke in a low volume, looking around to make sure Melissa wasn¡¯t standing behind him. ¡°Between you and me, she¡¯s not very good at it. Thank Manna for Murdock.¡± ¡°Murdock?¡± Jerry raised a brow. ¡°What does he have to do with this?¡± ¡°He¡¯s our village herbalist. Melissa only grew interested last year. She goes to Murdock¡¯s house weekly for lessons, though our resident wizard is perhaps not as good a teacher as she would have liked.¡± ¡°She goes to his house?¡± Jerry asked, wondering where exactly that was. Ashman¡¯s was the largest house in the village. Would the haughty wizard live in anything smaller? Ashman laughed. ¡°I know what you¡¯re thinking, but it¡¯s not improper. Murdock fancies men.¡± ¡°Ah, I see,¡± said Jerry, who did not at all care about the wizard¡¯s sexual preferences. ¡°In any case, thank you, Mayor. I really should get going. Take care.¡± ¡°You, too, my friend. May the Wall hold forever.¡± Ashman walked him to the door. He jokingly added, ¡°And no skeletons in town, you hear me?¡± Thus, armed with Saint Hugh¡¯s Bones, a folded green apron, and a batch of goatskin, Jerry walked to his next destination, the brewer¡¯s house. He¡¯d promised Derek some drinks, and he wouldn¡¯t want to burden the man with bringing his own again. Unfortunately, the brewer, an older man with an oily ponytail, refused to sell anything to Jerry. He did not consider shoemaking appropriate payment, and Jerry supposed that the man didn¡¯t like necromancers to begin with. Helplessly, he departed, heading for Derek¡¯s house. The hunter would be back, with any luck, and he would be able to buy some booze in Jerry¡¯s stead. However, as he approached Derek¡¯s house, Jerry caught a man staring from the nearby tree line. He did not recall seeing this person before. He was dressed in a green tunic and a leather vest, with an aggressive face and a sword on his hip. In fact, noticed Jerry, this man was dressed quite similarly to the bandits who¡ª Oh. The man opened his mouth and roared, ¡°Attack!¡± Chapter 8: Bone Dance At the man¡¯s command, eleven more bandits jumped out of the forest and ran toward the village. They weren¡¯t far, only two hundred feet away. The distance would evaporate in no time. Therefore, Jerry did the only sensible thing; he ran away, dropping what he was carrying and bolting for the village center. At the same time, he mentally ordered his skeletons to assist. A bandit raid was not something he wanted to face alone. ¡°Bandits!¡± he shouted. The villagers noticed the approaching bandits and screamed in alarm. Several men drew weapons and rushed to the edge of the village to form a wall of swords¡ªor rather, a flimsy fence. Several others ran away or froze in terror. Jerry himself rushed behind the village warriors. Not only was he unarmed, but also a wizard. The front line was not his place in life. When the bandits collided with the villagers, it would not be a pleasant sight. The former were better armed, better trained, and far more seasoned than the latter. The only reason these guys ever stood up was for their families, for their wives and children. As the bandits were about to reach the village, a mighty oink resounded, and the gates of hell opened wide. Three monsters rushed out of the forest, heading for the village faster than the bandits ever could. One was a massive monstrosity of bones in the shape of a wild boar, charging with the strength of a horse. It was unstoppable. On its back stood a skeletal form only vaguely humanoid. Its entire torso was missing, making its shoulders rest upon its waist. Most importantly, the thing had blades for fingers and razors for teeth, and its bone jaw cackled manically as they rushed for the bandits. The last monster ran ahead of those two, drawing far less attention. It was shaped like a fox but made of bones. The bandits turned and stumbled, unable to process what they saw¡ªbut the skeletons¡¯ speed was great, and before the bandits could realize what was happening, the monsters were upon them. For all their weapons, armor, and training, the bandits were not ready to meet Boboar¡¯s charge. The beast barreled right through them, sending two bandits flying like bowling pins. Boboar then rushed past the battle, unable to halt his sprint in time, but his back was now vacated. Shorty had jumped off the double-boar and into the thick of the bandits. He did not know how to fight, that much was evident to Jerry, but the poor criminals couldn¡¯t see it; all they saw was an abominable monstrosity made of blades and death. Shorty whirled in their midst, wreaking havoc but causing few casualties, while Foxy silently invaded them to spread swift death. Her claws and fangs shredded throats, chests, and limbs alike, the skeletal fox being an incarnation of fury at the ones who dared threaten her master. The bandits screamed, but a sharp shout steadied their bodies. ¡°They¡¯ve got a necromancer!¡± the leading bandit said, a short, wide man seemingly made of muscle. He must have been in his forties, if not older. ¡°Don¡¯t panic. As one!¡± Jerry did his best to appear inconspicuous in the crowd that had formed. Despite that, the leading bandit stared him directly in the eye, as if he knew, or perhaps because Jerry had been the first person he saw. Jerry looked away and whistled. Just as the leader was about to shout another order, Shorty fell on him, and the man was forced to draw his weapons and defend. He wielded twin axes, whirling them around in a hurricane that demolished Shorty. The poor skeleton was intimidating and deadly, yes, but weak in direct combat. Due to his lack of a torso, he was significantly weaker than a normal skeleton. His only saving grace was the lack of target he presented, as he was essentially a mass of thrashing limbs. While Foxy was fighting the still disoriented bandits, one of the leader¡¯s axes bit into Shorty¡¯s bone wrist, cutting it clean off. The skeleton, unable to feel pain, continued to fight ferociously, but his defeat was only a matter of time. It was right then that the moving bone fortress¡ªBoboar¡ªreturned for another round. He rushed straight at the bandit leader to defend his friend. The bandit was ready. Disengaging from Shorty, the bandit leader faced Boboar¡¯s assault, and at the last moment, jumped aside. The double-boar barreled through with a frustrated oink, unable to turn his massive body. Boars were easy to dodge once you knew the trick. The axe-wielder turned back to Shorty, smiling grimly. The remaining bandits, four in number, coordinated with each other and pushed Foxy away. Boboar was still struggling to turn. Shorty lunged forth, fearless in his undeath. At the last moment, the bandit leader¡¯s axe cleaved down, a sure strike to the skull. It missed. The bandit screamed and fell to the ground, holding his chest. A man walked out of the crowd, his right palm shining black. ¡°Leave Shorty alone, you bully.¡± ¡°What¡ª¡± The bandit¡¯s eyes were bloodshot as he turned, only to meet Shorty¡¯s slap head-on. The result was not pretty. ¡°Alright.¡± Jerry sighed, dropping his arm. He was already sweating. This was the first time he tried Soul Severing on another person¡ªthe process of cutting the bonds between soul and body. He¡¯d expected to fail, aiming only to distract the bandit, but it turned out he could apply debilitating pressure even if he couldn¡¯t sever the bonds outright. Well, he knew now, and he also knew it was downright exhausting. The lack of proximity didn¡¯t do him any favors either. At least the rest of the bandits didn¡¯t seem like the brightest bunch. In their shock, they had failed to acknowledge the very definition of obvious approaching them from behind. If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement. Boboar rammed into them in all his piggy glory, once again sending two men flying. Only two bandits were left standing, one of whom had the misfortune of meeting Foxy. The other was already running away, screaming, and Shorty once again jumped on Boboar¡¯s back as they set to the hunt. Right before the bandit reached the tree line, an arrow dived straight into his skull, killing him instantly. Derek walked out of the woods, bow taut, as the bandit collapsed. ¡°Are there any left?¡± he asked quickly. ¡°Oh, hi Derek,¡± Jerry said, panting. ¡°I came by earlier, but you were missing, so I left your cart with Holly. Hope you don¡¯t mind.¡± ¡°Jerry.¡± Derek looked on in confusion. ¡°What happened here?¡± ¡°A bandit attack,¡± the necromancer spoke as if it was the simplest thing in the world, ¡°but we held them off.¡± ¡°I¡­ Oh, gods.¡± Derek stepped past some corpses, shouting at the gathered villagers, ¡°Is everyone okay?¡± Silence came from behind Jerry, and he turned to look. What he saw was pure terror, but not for the bandits; it was directed straight at him. The necromancer almost stepped back from the beam of concentrated fear he received. ¡°What?¡± he asked. ¡°I saved you.¡± ¡°Monsters¡­¡± came a voice from the back of the crowd, and a couple more repeated the word. Jerry frowned. ¡°What are you people saying?¡± Derek stepped up. ¡°Jerry just saved your asses!¡± More silence met him, and a vein pulsed at the hunter¡¯s temple. ¡°It¡¯s all right, Derek.¡± Jerry sighed. ¡°People are always afraid, but they will understand. I will show you¡±¡ªhe turned to the villagers¡ª ¡°that you don¡¯t need to be afraid of me or my skeletons. We will not harm you; we will protect you and make you the loveliest of shoes.¡± ¡°As far as I¡¯m concerned, this is stupidity at its finest.¡± Derek scoffed at the villagers. ¡°Jerry protected you and your families, and you have the gall to look at him like that. Shame on you. And where the hell is Murdock? He¡¯s supposed to protect us, too.¡± ¡°Well, I¡¯m off,¡± Jerry said, picking up the goatskin, Saint Hugh¡¯s Bones, and napron from the ground where he¡¯d dropped them earlier. ¡°Feel free to visit whenever, Derek, and bring anyone you want. Ashman and Holly are especially welcome.¡± He then stepped closer to the hunter, whispering a few more words. ¡°But get some booze for me, please. The old man refused to give me any.¡± ¡°Are you sure, Jerry?¡± ¡°Yeah, I asked him twice.¡± ¡°Not that. Are you sure it¡¯s okay? You saved the village. We must repay you, somehow.¡± ¡°That¡¯s all right. The hospitality and assistance you¡¯ve offered me, along with these tools¡±¡ªhe raised the shoemaker¡¯s toolkit¡ª¡°are more than enough compensation.¡± He then thought better about it and pointed at the dead bandits. ¡°Actually, can I have them, too?¡± ¡°The bodies and anything on them belong to you.¡± Derek nodded. ¡°That is only right.¡± ¡°Nice. Ah, also, can I borrow your cart again? Without the tools this time. Hope it¡¯s not too much to ask, but I cannot carry all these bodies otherwise.¡± Jerry scratched his head, feeling a bit pushy. ¡°Of course!¡± the hunter replied excitedly. ¡°In fact, it would be my pleasure to help you carry them!¡± ¡°No, that¡¯s fine. Boboar can pull it.¡± ¡°Very well. Come, let us unload the tools. And as for all of you¡±¡ªhe turned to the villagers, fury simmering in his eyes as he roared out, ¡°what the hell do you think you¡¯re still doing here? If you cannot properly express gratitude, get out of my sight!¡± Standing a head taller than everybody else, and being an experienced hunter, Derek cut an imposing figure. One man still retorted against his aggressive attitude. ¡°Why are you shouting at us, Derek?¡± he said. ¡°I didn¡¯t see you doing much to help either. You only shot one arrow when the battle was already over.¡± ¡°Learn to behave before you can lecture me, boy,¡± the hunter replied roughly, locking eyes with the younger man. ¡°Fuck off.¡± The man defiantly held Derek¡¯s gaze for a moment, clenching his teeth. Finally, he snorted as he looked away. The crowd dispersed. Only then did Derek look away. ¡°I¡¯m sorry for what you had to see,¡± he told Jerry. ¡°They can be a bit¡­¡± ¡°That¡¯s all right. I understand. Let¡¯s just get the bodies.¡± Derek nodded, and the two of them got to work. A few minutes later, and with the assistance of the skeletons, all twelve bodies had been loaded, eight on the cart and four on Boboar¡¯s back. The double-boar growled as he pulled the cart, which creaked under the weight. ¡°I¡¯ll make you a new one if it breaks,¡± Jerry said as he took off. ¡°Take care, Derek. May the Wall hold.¡± ¡°You too, my friend. You too. May it hold forever.¡± He stayed there, unmoving at the edge of the village, watching Jerry strut off. Only after he disappeared behind the tree line did Derek release a deep, sad sigh. Jerry was a good man. He did not deserve such treatment, especially after he risked himself to save everyone. But he was dangerous and alien, and the villagers¡­did not take kindly to the alien. Derek was well aware of that. If only they were more open-minded, then maybe Holly¡¯s mother would still be¡­ He shook his head, sending the thoughts away. What was done was done. Derek could only hope that this warm, friendly, genuinely good man called Jerry would manage to weasel into the villagers¡¯ hearts. Manna knows he deserves it. Derek sighed one last time before turning to head into the village. His home and daughter awaited. His daughter, Holly, for whom he could endure everything. Chapter 9: The Hillbilly Squad The Kingdom of Escarbot is split from east to west by the Axel Ridge, a mountain range so large it defines the kingdom. To the west of Escarbot lie the Moonlight Kingdom, the land of merchants and wizards, and the Jewel Sea, named for the color its waters take in the summer. To the east, the Alabaster Kingdom, famed for its great explorers and mighty warriors, and especially for the famed Wyvern Riders of Nopelin. South of the three Kingdoms lies the Narrow Sea, and beyond it, the Sea of Sands, which the people of camels, fabrics, and spices call home. Finally, to the north, beyond the Wall of the Damned and the Black Belt, stretch the Dead Lands, the vast region occupied by the wild undead of Ozborne. In this way, the small Kingdom of Escarbot is squeezed between sea and undeath, with its paltry borders separating two larger Kingdoms. It is, in all regards, a land simple, barbaric, and untamed. Due caution is advised. - An excerpt from the Atlas of Homerus, Second Edition, found on an unnamed corpse. The hour-long walk was over in a blink, as always, and Jerry was once again facing his tower. He whistled. The distrust of the villagers did not get him down; it was only natural. In time, they would understand. On the bright side, he had acquired a bunch of new bodies, soon-to-be buddies! ¡°Come on, Boboar,¡± he said happily, gesturing toward the body-filled cart. ¡°Drop them.¡± With a shrug, the double-boar skeleton tilted the cart, throwing the corpses on the dirt. Jerry had made the basement into his laboratory, but getting all these bodies down there would be messy. Stairs were the enemy of mankind. In the future, someone should definitely create magical ones that moved on their own. Yes, that would be nice. The necromancer bent down, staring at the pile of corpses at his disposal. Eleven of them, all in decent condition, minus some unimportant fleshy bits and broken bones from Boboar¡¯s assaults. Wait, eleven? Weren¡¯t there twelve of them? One, two, three¡­ ¡°Oh, Boboar, you lovable lump. You dropped one somewhere!¡± Boboar lowered his massive head and snorted apologetically. Jerry laughed and petted him. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, you. A body up or down is no big deal. In fact, thank you for carrying them all here. You¡¯re the best double-boar skeleton I have ever seen!¡± Boboar oinked in happiness, gently pushing his head against Jerry¡¯s hand. ¡°Hah, okay! Now¡±¡ªhe laughed, turning to the bodies and rubbing his hands¡ª¡±what goodies should we make?¡± ¡°Someone with hammers for hands, Master,¡± Boney said. He and Headless had been building the fence, and they¡¯d naturally noticed Jerry¡¯s group approach. ¡°It would save us quite some time.¡± ¡°An excellent suggestion, my dear butler!¡± Jerry whipped his head around. ¡°But I have a better idea.¡± Boney groaned. The necromancer reached inside the pile of bodies and, with a bit of effort, pulled out a bulky man. It was the bandit leader who had given Shorty and Boboar a lot of trouble, the one who wielded twin axes. The axes were present too. ¡°Oh, do I have plans for this one¡­¡± Jerry grinned, an evil glint in his eye. ¡°It¡¯s high time we made a double human skeleton. Isn¡¯t that right, Boney?¡± ¡°I believe some extra working hands would be excellent, Master.¡± ¡°Fine.¡± ¦§e rolled his eyes. ¡°Here, have these.¡± With some mental gymnastics, two skeletons tore their way out of their former bodies. They blankly stared at Jerry. ¡°Are any of you intelligent?¡± he asked. They looked on. ¡°Alright, then, both of you follow Boney. He will tell you what to do. Work them well, Boney. Maintaining this many undead is quite taxing on my soul, so I¡¯ll de-animate them tomorrow.¡± The skeletal butler rubbed his hands evilly, as Jerry had done earlier. Jerry considered getting him some nice clothes the next time he visited Pilpen. Maybe a hat, too. ¡°Not to worry, Master. I will work these two to the bone.¡± Jerry flinched. Cackling, Boney took off with only one of the new skeletons in tow. The other was temporarily tasked with carrying a few of the new corpses to the basement; he would join fence-building duty later. The fence would come along much faster now, and Jerry was satisfied. He turned to the corpse-carrying skeleton. ¡°Lead the way, Expendable Skelly. And you, Shorty, come along. I will fix that broken hand of yours.¡± Filled with excitement, Shorty dragged his body to the basement, while the new skeleton hoisted the former bandit leader. That¡¯s how it goes; the new guys get the chores. Back in the basement, Jerry got ready for work. It was still early in the day. The first order of business was fixing Shorty. He¡¯d worked hard to protect him, and Jerry appreciated that. Therefore, grabbing the sliced-off hand bone, Jerry touched it to the end of Shorty¡¯s forearm and created a soul tether that bound them together. This was the same magical application he¡¯d used to create Boboar. Too bad it only worked on bones, or Headless would be Headful. ¡°There you go,¡± he said proudly. ¡°Good as new.¡± Shorty tried out his hand, waving it experimentally in the air. It worked as intended, and the skeleton cackled with joy before rushing upward, presumably to show Boney and Headless. It was curious how quickly a skeleton formed the first signs of self-awareness. A day ago, Shorty had been unable to turn a doorknob. Now, he already possessed the concepts of pride, joy, and maybe even friendship? Jerry¡¯s wizard side told him to record everything for future study. His creative side told him to just get on with the next project, and he did just that. A double human skeleton sounded fun. ¡°I have plans for you. You are going to follow a noble craft, and you¡¯re gonna be the very best like no one ever was,¡± he declared to the dead bandit leader, whose name he¡¯d never gotten. Not that he particularly cared, but he was running out of bone-themed names. ¡°Oh, well.¡± And so, Jerry got to work. Connecting two skeletons was a challenging endeavor. Creating Boboar had once taken him months of research and experimenting. Even if he now knew the gist of it, adjusting his knowledge to human skeletons would take some time. Fortunately, like most good guys, Jerry wasn¡¯t afraid of hard work. The hours flew by as one attempt followed another. Jerry discovered that the bipedal nature of humans made several aspects of the project different compared to boars, but he relished the challenge. Night came and went without Jerry realizing it, and the next day found him once again bent over his workbench, connecting small bones over small bones. Just like that time when he¡¯d spent six months wandering the forests, time lost its meaning. It flowed freely like sand between his fingers, and he let it, relishing in the mindless, fruitful labor. His attempts were only interrupted when Boney stepped into the basement. ¡°Excuse me, Master,¡± he said, and Jerry looked up. His eyes sported black bags underneath. He wasn¡¯t sure, but he suspected he¡¯d missed a night¡¯s sleep. Maybe two. ¡°What is it, Boney?¡± he asked. ¡°There are some people here to see you. I thought it wise not to kill them before letting you know.¡± ¡°Kill them?¡± Jerry raised a brow. ¡°We don¡¯t kill people, Boney. We¡¯re the good guys. If anything, perhaps we should invite them in for some milk and cookies, though we don¡¯t have any. No matter, I¡¯m sure we can treat them to something . ¡± ¡°I would suggest a swift and painful death, Master, but tea would be acceptable too. Foxy brought some leaves the other day. I could try brewing them.¡± ¡°Excellent suggestion, as expected of my undead butler.¡± Jerry straightened up, his spine cracking. ¡°Ouch. Yeah, I guess a break will be good. How long was I working for, Boney?¡± ¡°Three and a half days, Master,¡± echoed the butler¡¯s voice, already gone from the basement. Jerry followed soon after, leaving the new project as it was. He was almost there; soon, their little group would have a new addition. How nice. As he walked toward the door, Jerry realized he was completely spent. It wasn¡¯t just the exhaustion either; there was a deeper kind of weariness, as if something vital to him was currently strained. Ah! I forgot the two new skeletons. Boney better have gotten some work done. However, the moment he saw his visitors, his exhaustion was gone. It wasn¡¯t Derek, as he expected, nor was it the mayor.A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. Jerry was a villager through and through, but not all villagers were the same. He had only been to a town once or twice, and the extent of his education was learning to read, write, and count to a hundred. Despite that, he practically oozed class and elegance when compared to the people he found glaring at his undead. There were eight of them, all wearing leather armor and well-made but badly maintained leather boots. Swords were in their hands, but that was unimportant. What was more notable was the absolute hillbilly-ism of these men. They each lacked a couple of teeth, held their swords like shovels, and had a sense of permanent incomprehension stuck to their dirty faces. They were hunched, rough, and currently staring at Headless and his chest-level head like a particularly nasty enigma. Jerry was impressed. Had a rival village come to compete for his shoemaking services? Why the swords, though? In front of the eight hillbillies was another person; a gruff-looking man with a clenched jaw, dressed in metal armor and wielding a spear. The nine of them were currently facing off against the fence builders, ready to dice his lovely undead apart or die trying. At least the wall itself was coming along nicely, now circling almost half of Jerry¡¯s tower. ¡°Hey there,¡± Jerry said, drawing their attention. ¡°I¡¯m Jerry, and I¡¯m not open to new orders at the moment. Is there any other way I can help you?¡± ¡°You¡¯re a necromancer,¡± said the gruff, bearded man, confirming he was the leader. ¡°That¡¯s only a hobby. I¡¯m also a professional shoemaker¡ªdid you not read the sign?¡± He pointed to the wooden sign in front of the fence, which indicated this place as a shoemaker¡¯s workshop. ¡°By the way, you should probably have Billies one through eight sheathe their weapons. What they¡¯re doing can prove to be quite unhealthy.¡± ¡°Billies one through eight?¡± The man looked confused. ¡°Are you talking about my squad? None of them are called Billy. They are Rudolf, Dasher, Prancer¡ª¡± ¡°I¡¯m sure my master would love to memorize eight minion names,¡± Boney¡¯s voice trailed over from one of the upper floor windows, where he was preparing tea. Looking up, Jerry saw the butler¡¯s head peeking out the window. The armored leader was taken aback. ¡°It can talk?¡± ¡°It has a name,¡± Boney said, ¡°and it can also do many other things with its mouth, which your mother is intimately familiar with.¡± ¡°Let¡¯s not antagonize these nice gentlemen yet, Boney,¡± Jerry said. ¡°I think they¡¯re just confused. This is no way to ask for new shoes.¡± ¡°Yah a shoemaker?¡± One of the Billies narrowed his eyes. ¡°You liah. We knaw your kind. What kinda necromanca make shoes?¡± ¡°I have to make a living, don¡¯t I?¡± ¡°Can¡¯t you devour virgins or something equally evil?¡± the commander interceded. ¡°No,¡± Jerry replied. ¡°I know how this looks, but I¡¯m actually a good guy!¡± ¡°Good guy? A necromancer?¡± ¡°To the bone!¡± The men looked on blankly. ¡°Okay, that was my bad,¡± Jerry said. ¡°I guess Boney got to me. You¡¯ve met him already, right? My undead butler.¡± They stared. ¡°The talking skeleton,¡± he added. Understanding dawned on the commander. Jerry smiled as he continued. ¡°So, care to come in? I have some nice tea. I mean, it might not be nice, it¡¯s just some smelly leaves my pet fox found in the forest, but all tea is nice in good company.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know who you are or what you¡¯re doing in this place, necromancer¡±¡ªthe commander leveled his sword at Jerry, which was very rude indeed¡ª¡°but know that if you harm one hair of the kingdom¡¯s people or its forests, you will be crucified.¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t know forests had hair, but I do not intend to harm anyone, my good sir.¡± Jerry smiled again. ¡°And speaking of it, who are you?¡± ¡°Captain Reymond of the Milaris Royal Guard.¡± The bearded man struck his chest with an armored fist. Jerry knew Milaris to be the city nearest Pilpen. ¡°And these men are under my command. We are here to man the kingdom¡¯s guard post¡ªthe one you have infested. ¡± ¡°What, this?¡± Jerry looked back. ¡°But this is my tower.¡± ¡°It is not. It is the kingdom¡¯s guard post.¡± ¡°Really? Well, I was given this tower by the village of Pilpen, so you might want to bring it up with their mayor. He¡¯s a nice guy, though his wife is a bit difficult.¡± ¡°A village does not have the right to transfer ownership of Kingdom property.¡± ¡°Well, it¡¯s mine now.¡± ¡°That is unacceptable.¡± Reymond leveled his stare at Jerry. Jerry stared right back. Suddenly, Reymond realized that confronting an unknown necromancer might be quite unhealthy indeed. He lowered his sword. ¡°I apologize for any confusion caused by our absence, but I have to ask you to evacuate, sir. ¡± The man¡¯s disdain was clear by the way he spat out the last word, but Jerry did not particularly care. ¡°Well, this is going to be a little difficult.¡± He scratched his head. ¡°I mean, I don¡¯t really want to steal your guard tower, but don¡¯t you think you should visit your buildings a bit more frequently? This place had been left unattended for a year. It was a wreck. I¡¯ve cleaned it, tidied it up, and built a lovely little laboratory in the basement along with a good, strong fence.¡± ¡°A laboratory?¡± The captain¡¯s gaze darkened. ¡°That¡¯s right. I am fine with leaving if the tower truly is yours, but I should be compensated and assisted in my relocation. Do you happen to know any other conveniently abandoned guard towers nearby?¡± ¡°What? Kingdom property is not for necromancers to occupy!¡± The captain fumed. ¡°I will have to ask you to depart immediately. I will also have to ask you to unsummon all your undead minions and allow us to bury them after cleansing them with holy water.¡± ¡°I can¡¯t do that.¡± ¡°Why not?¡± ¡°Because I don¡¯t want to,¡± Jerry replied truthfully. The conversation fell in a lull, for which Jerry was relieved. They weren¡¯t very cooperative. He needed to think. As he¡¯d said to the man, he really didn¡¯t want to steal another person¡¯s tower. He¡¯d feel pretty bad if somebody stole his tower, so why force that feeling on others? On the other hand, he really didn¡¯t want to leave his new home. He¡¯d already gotten cozy! Oh, what do I do? In any case, Jerry didn¡¯t want to intrude. He liked this tower, but if it really belonged to someone else, staying here wasn¡¯t right. Fortunately, at the last moment, a savior arrived in the form of an undead butler. ¡°Excuse me,¡± Tom Boney said, stepping out of the tower with a tea tray in hand, ¡°but I happened to overhear. As a matter of fact, this place used to belong to the Escarbot Kingdom, but it has now been conquered by a foreign Kingdom.¡± ¡°Conquered?¡± The captain¡¯s eyes bulged. ¡°What?¡± ¡°Indeed.¡± The skeleton nodded. ¡°Currently, this place belongs to the newly founded Kingdom of Shoemakery and Undeathly Shenanigans. The SUS Kingdom, for short.¡± ¡°What?¡± said Reymond. ¡°What?¡± said Jerry. ¡°Indeed, indeed.¡± Boney nodded again. ¡°I clearly remember the day my Master founded his glorious kingdom. We are small now, but we will certainly grow stronger in the future! If fate permits, we might even become a Kingdom with two guard towers!¡± ¡°What?¡± Captain Reynold spread his arms wide, sword and all. ¡°You can¡¯t just make your own kingdom!¡± ¡°We can and we did,¡± Boney stated. ¡°In fact, you are currently intruding on our territory, gentlemen. Are you trying to instigate a war? Can you really shoulder that decision for the entire Kingdom of Escarbot?¡± ¡°What war?!¡± The captain pointed at the skeleton. ¡° You are instigating a war! You took our tower!¡± ¡°We took our tower, but that¡¯s in the past. Let¡¯s not reignite old rivalries.¡± ¡°What old¡ª You skeletal clown!¡± the captain shouted angrily as he stomped his boot and looked around. Besides the annoying skeleton, two more were staring at him, along with an axe-wielding, headless zombie. And what was that? A child skeleton? One with oddly long limbs and sharp fingers? A boar skeleton had also appeared from the forest at some point, ominously staring them down, and on its back was the skeleton of a fox. Both were drenched in dried blood, and the sheer enmity that radiated from this small army of undead was overwhelming. Crimson sparks burned deep in every undead¡¯s eye sockets. Moreover, behind everyone else stood the necromancer himself, a man that Captain Reymond couldn¡¯t see through. Was this a battle they could win? How many of his men would he need to sacrifice? ¡°Very well,¡± he relented. ¡°I will call my superior here, and then you will see what the kingdom does to those who mock it. Men! We return!¡± Obediently¡ªalmost too obediently, in fact¡ªthe hillbillies turned and retreated at a brisk pace. Before a minute had passed, the nine of them had already disappeared into the tree line. ¡°What weird people¡­¡± Jerry muttered. ¡°Don¡¯t you think so, Boney?¡± ¡°Indeed, Master, for them to pick a bone with us. And unfriendly, too.¡± ¡°You know, you¡¯re quite eloquent for a former bandit.¡± The necromancer raised a brow. ¡°What gives?¡± ¡°The previous Tom grew up in Milaris, Master. He was smart and educated, but his parents¡¯ expectations weighed a bit too heavily on him. A shame he decided to become a bandit.¡± Jerry nodded. ¡°By the way, Master, what should we do with the tea?¡± ¡°Well, it¡¯s brewed now, and I¡¯m frankly quite exhausted. Let¡¯s drink it ourselves. No, wait; can you even drink tea?¡± ¡°Certainly, Master.¡± Boney laughed. ¡°I so like tea. Its warmth runs bone-deep!¡± Chapter 10: Axehand and Elena After the soldiers were gone and the tea was drunk¡ªor poured through one¡¯s ribcage¡ªJerry went to sleep. He dreamt about being a cow and chewing on grass all day long while watching carriages pass by. He¡¯d enjoy being a cow. Come morning, he rose from bed, stretched, had some fruits and a cup of tea for breakfast¡ªhe still didn¡¯t know what leaves these were, but he enjoyed them a lot¡ªand then headed back to his laboratory. His project was almost done, and soon, his lovably undead team would have a new addition. He had de-animated the two latest skeletons before going to sleep. They were fine workers, but his soul was getting tired. The upkeep of human skeletons was no joke. Once again, time flew by. Morning turned into noon, which turned into afternoon, and it was only as the sun touched the far-off mountains that Jerry took a step back, pridefully gazing at his new creation. It was a human skeleton, but with double the trouble. Bones were stacked on bones, some parts enhanced more than others, forming a careful balance of weight and strain. It wasn¡¯t the most complicated of tasks, as most things were handled by very convenient magic, but it was still challenging, and he wasn¡¯t too sure he had succeeded. There was only one way to find out. ¡°Rise,¡± he whispered, willing the soul trapped inside the skeleton to bond with it in crude yet elaborate ways. The skeleton shivered. It moved. It stood. ¡°Yes!¡± Jerry screamed. ¡°It¡¯s alive!¡± The skeleton rose in all its undeathly glory. The bandit it was built upon was short and bulky. This skeleton kept the bulky part but had largely grown in height, towering an entire head over Jerry. As counterintuitive as it seemed, extra height was the way Jerry had found to stabilize the extra weight. However, this was not the full extent of the transformations that the extra bones had caused. The skeleton was still vaguely humanoid, but the extra bones had given it a bulkiness which misled the human eye into considering this skeleton muscular. It was terrifying. But wait! There¡¯s more. As the two skeletons had been combined, so had their souls, creating an odd soul with random parts strengthened or weakened. Jerry had a feeling that this guy¡¯s mind would be slower than most, though any other effects were hard to estimate. The same thing had happened to Boboar¡¯s soul back when he made it, but though he was more experienced now, the added complexity of human souls made the future impenetrable. Despite its lacking mind, the skeleton lowered its gaze to look at its hands, or where its hands should be. Because, of course, Jerry had done some customization. Where there used to be hands, there were now two axeblades, as if this was the skeleton of a particularly barbaric pirate captain. It looked at its hands, then back up at Jerry. Jerry admired his new creation. A tall, wide, lumbering brute with axeblades for hands and clean white bones which seemed a bit too dense. Jerry could even imagine black flames burning in its deep, empty eye sockets. It would be glorious. And he intended to let this skeleton loose, unleash it on the targets it was built to destroy, slashing and hacking frenziedly until nothing remained standing. Yes, this would be glorious. ¡°Welcome, Axehand, my strongest creation!¡± said the necromancer. He laughed manically. ¡°You are going to be the world¡¯s best lumberjack!¡± Axehand grunted. ¡°Maybe not the brightest lumberjack¡±¡ªJerry patted his shoulder, smiling warmly¡ª¡±but that¡¯s okay. I¡¯m not too bright either; not everybody needs to be smart. Welcome home, buddy.¡± Axehand grunted happily, and Jerry quickly led him outside to brag. As soon as Boney caught sight of Axehand, he froze in place. Jerry would have sworn his bones shivered in excitement. ¡°My bones are shaking, Master,¡± the butler said. ¡°This is amazing! Such a warrior, a monstrosity, a fierce, unmatched killer! We can protect you now!¡± ¡°This is Axehand,¡± Jerry happily introduced the new addition, who grunted in consent, ¡°and he is our newest lumberjack.¡± Boney¡¯s head turned so quickly that Jerry feared for his spine¡¯s integrity. ¡°Our what?¡± ¡°Our lumberjack.¡± Jerry stuck his chest out. ¡°I noticed that Headless was having some trouble with cutting wood. He¡¯s a good boy, but his head is just not where it¡¯s supposed to be. Anyway, Axehand will take over the woodcutting now, so you and Headless can focus on fence-building.¡± ¡°That is¡­ Pardon me, Master, but I must have misheard. Did you say that the ultimate avatar of your rage and hatred toward the world, the pinnacle of your skills, the one destined to bring terror, death, and undeath upon your innumerable enemies¡­is a lumberjack?¡± ¡°Yeah.¡± Jerry tilted his head in confusion. ¡°I thought it would be obvious. He has axes for hands, if you didn¡¯t notice.¡± ¡°Oh, mighty Desistos, why do you do this to me?¡± Boney raised his hands at the sky. ¡°Fine. Axehand, go chop wood.¡± Axehand grunted in disapproval. ¡°Axehand,¡± Jerry said, ¡°Boney may seem weird, but he¡¯s a good guy, deep down. He is also the butler and caretaker of our home, so listen to him, please.¡± Axehand grunted in agreement and took off toward the forest. He entered the tree line. Seconds later, a man¡¯s terrified screams cut through the silence. ¡°Oh, come on!¡± Jerry sighed. ¡°Who is it again? Did the Billies come back?¡± Two forms jumped out of the woods. One was Derek, who seemed pale, and the other was the mayor, who was screaming harder than Holly had when cornered by the bandits. ¡°Oh! Hey guys!¡± Jerry waved at them. ¡°I see you met Axehand!¡± ¡°That abomination is yours?¡± Derek shouted. ¡°What the hell, Jerry?¡± ¡°Axehand is no abomination.¡± Jerry frowned and crossed his arms. ¡°He¡¯s a good boy. He¡¯s currently hard at work as a lumberjack.¡± Meanwhile, the mayor dove and groveled at Jerry¡¯s feet, clutching a stalk of wood nettle in one hand and a yellow ball in the other, begging to be spared. It took some time to convince him that Axehand was not, in fact, out to eat him. Eventually, he took the hint, and Derek apologized to Axehand for calling him an abomination, on Jerry¡¯s suggestion. He insisted that the undead grow like children, and that making them feel safe and wanted is important. Sometime later, the three men were huddled on the tower¡¯s roof, sitting on wooden chairs and sipping some tea. The mayor had donned a blanket around him, still shivering. ¡°Sorry for the fright.¡± Jerry scratched his head. ¡°Perhaps I should have checked before unleashing Axehand into the woods.¡±This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. ¡°That would have been nice.¡± Derek nodded. ¡°Make sure to send him in the other direction next time. An actual lumberjack might see him and have a heart attack.¡± ¡°Will do.¡± ¡°I¡¯ve actually been wondering,¡± continued the hunter, leveling an intensely curious stare at Jerry. ¡°These undead of yours, they seem¡­obedient. Peaceful. Hell, that talking skeleton made a paltry attempt at humor earlier. They aren¡¯t supposed to be like that.¡± ¡°Yeah, I know.¡± Jerry looked at the sky. ¡°I suspect that my undead are affected by my nature. Boney is funny and relaxed, but when I asked him, he said he wasn¡¯t like that while alive. I don¡¯t know. What I do know is that they¡¯re good people. They won¡¯t cause any problems.¡± ¡°Not on purpose, maybe. I believe you. But I fear that the villagers will never accept you and your skeletons¡­¡± Derek sighed, taking another sip. ¡°They¡¯re petty and close-minded. You saw it; even after you saved their lives, they looked at you as an enemy. Were they not afraid, they would have risen against you.¡± ¡°It¡¯s natural.¡± Jerry shrugged. ¡°The undead seem terrifying. They will understand, in time.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± Derek shook his head. ¡°Take Holly. She¡¯s my daughter, and yet, she is very scared of you. Even though you saved her, she shivers at any mention of you or the undead. She wakes up at night screaming. She struggles to focus, and she¡¯s afraid of entering the forest again, not so much because of the bandits, but mostly because of you.¡± ¡°But the bandits tried to harm her. I saved her.¡± ¡°And yet, it¡¯s you that she fears. Bandits are a part of life, Jerry. You are not, at least not according to common sense.¡± The necromancer fell silent. ¡°That makes me sad,¡± he said eventually. ¡°But there¡¯s nothing I can do about it. Those who can accept me will accept me, and those who cannot, will not. That will be enough.¡± ¡°I pray that it is.¡± Derek leaned back. ¡°Speaking of Holly,¡± Jerry asked, changing the subject, ¡°out of curiosity, why does she keep wearing dresses? Aren¡¯t they inconvenient?¡± Derek sighed the sigh of a man about to explain a tiresome subject. ¡°They are, and very unfit for Pilpen, too. My little girl is obsessed with the city life¡­ She wants to go to Milaris. What can I do? If she doesn¡¯t want to stay here, I won¡¯t force her. However, I have given her a condition; before we move, she has to learn herbalism properly. The world is a harsh place, and I will not take my daughter to Milaris without the skills to make a living.¡± ¡°Does she agree?¡± ¡°No.¡± The hunter chuckled. ¡°Maybe that¡¯s why her progress is snail-paced. She thinks I¡¯m being too cautious, but she¡¯s only a child. She doesn¡¯t know the world as I do. If she shows up unprepared, it will grab her and squeeze her dry for everything she¡¯s got¡ªas it will do to you, if you don¡¯t manage to blend in with the villagers. What do you think, Ashman?¡± He turned to the mayor. The sun was falling behind the mountains now, painting the sky red, but the three men weren¡¯t worried; they had already agreed to stay overnight, much to Ashman¡¯s original dismay. ¡°I think it will be difficult,¡± he muttered. ¡°Even my own wife has grown disgruntled lately. I fear it¡¯s Murdock¡¯s influence. She¡¯s been learning herbalism from him for some time now, and his thinking has started to rub off on her. Like teacher, like student.¡± ¡°Murdock isn¡¯t a very agreeable man.¡± Jerry nodded. ¡°He is not,¡± Ashman agreed. ¡°He¡¯s a rough case; authoritative, stubborn, arrogant. But the village needs him. With the bandits nearby¡­¡± ¡°I can protect you. Just let me station Axehand and Shorty as a patrol. I doubt any bandit would dare challenge them.¡± ¡°That could never happen.¡± The mayor shook his head. ¡°They will not rely on you, Jerry. I know my villagers. Even when Elena was here, they¡ª¡± ¡°Hey.¡± Derek frowned. ¡°Oh.¡± The mayor blinked. ¡°Sorry, I thought¡ª¡± ¡°It¡¯s fine.¡± He waved it off, turning to Jerry. For a long moment, the hunter remained silent, considering his next words. Finally, he sighed. ¡°Elena was my wife when fate brought us here. We were from far away, originally, hailing from the Sea of Sands. Ever heard of it?¡± ¡°Not really.¡± ¡°It¡¯s in the south; a land of sand and camels and spices and colorful, flowing fabrics,¡± he said, his nostalgia evident. His eyes were filled with memories as he looked down. ¡°Fate brought us to these lands when Holly was only six. That was ten years ago. We met Ashman by chance, so we chose to settle here. The villagers were wary of us, as we were strangers, but we didn¡¯t mind. They¡¯d come around in time, we thought, and they did eventually. The problem was, that same year¡­¡± His eyes darkened. ¡°Elena got sick. Murdock wasn¡¯t part of this village yet, so there was no herbalist, no doctor. Nobody could help. The snow had fallen, and I couldn¡¯t travel to seek help. She spent a winter in bed and passed away just before the first snow melted.¡± Ashman sat in knowing silence, sipping on his tea with sober eyes, while Jerry listened. ¡°I¡¯m sorry for your loss,¡± he finally said. ¡°It¡¯s okay.¡± The hunter waved a hand. ¡°That was ten years ago. I¡¯ve grown used to solitude since then, and Holly has grown into a beautiful young woman. I¡¯m just trying to say that while Elena was sick, the village did not help us. Nobody came to keep Holly company when I was gone for hours or days on end, hunting. Nobody boiled soup or tea for us, nobody gave us food, nobody came to help clean our home. Not even Melissa. She warmed up to us later, but it was too late. That winter, I had to take care of a bedridden wife, a young daughter, and a house all by myself. Only Ashman was there for us, but how much can one man do?¡± He took a deep breath before continuing. ¡°I couldn¡¯t handle everything, obviously. We had to skimp on wood, spending some nights shivering. We had to eat little, pour more water into our soup. I was but one man, and I could not take care of my family. Perhaps that was why Elena eventually succumbed. If the village had been quicker to accept us, if they had helped¡­or if I was stronger¡­perhaps spring would have come to my home.¡± He stewed in silence for a moment. ¡°I see¡­¡± Jerry looked down. ¡°Yes, you see.¡± Derek gave a frank stare at Jerry. ¡°We weren¡¯t necromancers. If even we were not accepted, you have a hard task ahead of you, my friend.¡± ¡°But I will persevere.¡± The necromancer smiled sadly. ¡°I like this place, and I have decided to make it my home. Unless the Billies come back, of course, but never mind that. In any case, I will persist. One year, three, or five, it makes little difference to me. Time has lost its meaning. Now, the days simply come one after the other, slipping through my fingers so quickly I cannot keep up. Before I know it, ten years will have passed, and my undead household will be filled with the warmth of visitors.¡± ¡°I wish that upon you, my friend.¡± Derek smiled, while Ashman nodded, too. ¡°Jerry,¡± Ashman said, ¡°I¡¯m sorry if I¡¯m being too forward, but your words made me curious. What exactly is your story? What brought a man like you to a little village like ours?¡± ¡°The same thing that brought Derek,¡± Jerry said, sipping on his tea. ¡°Fate.¡± ¡°Fate.¡± ¡°There¡¯s no better word for it. Yours was the tenth village I visited, and you would have turned me away like all the others if I didn¡¯t happen to save Holly from those bandits. It was blind chance.¡± Ashman looked like he wanted to say something, but he hesitated. ¡°Didn¡¯t you have a home before?¡± he finally asked. ¡°I kind of did. Another village, probably far away from here, where I wasted the best years of my life suppressing my nature as a necromancer. It didn¡¯t work. It was six months ago that I just couldn¡¯t take it anymore, and my magic burst out, and I ran into the forest. I lived as a hermit for a while, practicing my art in solitude, then decided to look for a new home where I would be accepted. You know what happened next.¡± Neither Derek nor Ashman knew anything about magic. Jerry could feel them itching with curiosity, but he was glad they didn¡¯t ask. ¡°What about your family?¡± Ashman asked in a weak voice. ¡°This is my family.¡± The other two men nodded. ¡°Enough with the sad talk,¡± Derek said, raising a tea-filled cup. ¡°Let¡¯s drink! Not this stuff, obviously¡ªit¡¯s bitter. But the night is young, and the alcohol I brought won¡¯t drink itself!¡± Jerry laughed, the heavy atmosphere dissipating into joy. ¡°Fine then. Let¡¯s see just how much booze the people of Pilpen can hold!¡± Chapter 11: Jerry鈥檚 Proudest Possession Brad grumbled. When three men disappeared near that puny village, Pilpen, he¡¯d assumed they¡¯d run away. It was natural. What would a handful of villagers do to three hardened men? Feed them to death? Therefore, he¡¯d reported his suspicions to the big man, Jericho himself. Now, the twelve-man-strong task force they¡¯d sent to this puny village of Pilpen had not returned. Something was up. And that something meant that Brad¡¯s earlier assumption, the one he had reported, had been mistaken. So, naturally, Brad had been tasked with finding out what the hell was going on. Perfect. Just he and two random bastards sent to investigate something that had killed twelve strong men, Lom included. That man¡¯s axes had been fearful. Brad was a smart man. He knew they could not bandit their way out of this one. No, no, Brad knew what he¡¯d do; play it safe. Keep things peaceful. The two idiots under his command were dense as logs, but he¡¯d convinced them to hide their bandit insignias and take off their green robes, leaving only a set of nondescript pants called hoses. Then, he¡¯d taken the lead, much to his own chagrin. It couldn¡¯t be helped¡ªthe other two would be useless in anything that did not involve swinging stuff around and bashing heads in. Perhaps this was why they¡¯d been assigned this suicide mission with him, and the idiots were even happy about it. The three of them now lurked in the bushes close to the village, waiting for someone to come. Keeping the two idiots silent was a challenge. Eventually, someone did show up. ¡°Shush!¡± Brad brought a finger to his lips, and the idiots shushed. A girl approached. She was blonde and young, and beautiful, dressed in a green dress and carrying an herb basket. Her gait was hesitant, however, and her eyes darting around. She was afraid. Vulnerable. Brad grinned for more than one reason. They¡¯d planned to infiltrate the village or kidnap someone, but this might be even more fun. ¡°Stay right here. If you make a sound, I will tear your pitiful throats out,¡± he whispered to his men, treating them like the garbage they were. Following that, he stepped out of the bushes, pretending he hadn¡¯t noticed the girl. She froze, and, as if only just noticing, he turned his gaze at her. ¡°Oh,¡± he said, smiling warmly. ¡°Hello.¡± The girl stared. Brad was aware of how he looked. With his blue eyes and blond hair¡ªhe even bathed regularly¡ªhe was handsome. He worked out daily, doing exercises that the others disdained. They didn¡¯t make him that much stronger, but they did make his body more enticing. Hard abs, proud chest, and muscles bulging just enough to be attractive. Brad knew he was a narcissist, but he didn¡¯t mind. Everyone deserved their vices. Since the gods had made him handsome, why not capitalize on that? The girl ogled at his appearance. Currently, he also happened to be shirtless, and he put on his most charming smile. ¡°Did the cat bite your tongue?¡± He laughed gently. She blushed. Brad had to try hard to suppress his grin. He discreetly brought a hand behind his back and signaled for his men to remain hidden. Young girls were easy to sway; find their buttons, promise them the world, and they¡¯d soon be on all fours in front of him. Being extraordinarily handsome helped, too. Oh, this is going to be fun. ¡°What¡¯s your name, beauty?¡± She looked down. ¡°Holly,¡± she said timidly, loosening her grip on the basket. *** The night had been pleasant. The booze flowed freely, and the starlight was enchanting, even if the winter¡¯s cold had already begun to creep in. It was late November, and wintertime was at the door. Atop Jerry¡¯s tower, the three men laughed and drank. Jerry realized he had a strong belly, so he just drank more. He didn¡¯t remember everything from the night, but he did remember the mayor making a rather personal request. ¡°Say, Jerry¡­¡± He slung an arm over the necromancer¡¯s shoulders, nearly causing them both to fall off their chairs. ¡°You necromancers deal in life, too, right?¡± ¡°Sure thing, Ash-dude. What about it?¡± ¡°Say¡±¡ªhe hiccupped, breath smelling of booze¡ª¡°Melissa and I have been trying to have a child for years, but it¡¯s just not working.¡± He hiccupped again. ¡°I think I¡¯m sterile.¡± ¡°Sterile?¡± Jerry squinted, struggling to sober up. ¡°Yeah, and since you do life, and I cannot make life, apparently¡±¡ªhe looked down, suddenly sad¡ª¡°I was just wondering if, you know¡­ Maybe you can make me a life pill or something. Get the little Ashman down there working, you know?¡± ¡°Bwahaha!¡± Derek burst into laughter, pointing at the mayor. ¡°Little Ashman!¡± ¡°You¡ªhic¡ªbe quiet!¡± Ashman threw him his clay cup. ¡°It¡¯s a figure of speech!¡± ¡°It¡¯s alright, not everyone needs to be big,¡± slurred Jerry. ¡°Bwahaha!¡± Derek fell to the floor. ¡°No!¡± The mayor was incensed. ¡°I am not¡ª¡± ¡°I don¡¯t think I can do that.¡± Jerry shook his head. ¡°I can maybe fix broken bones, but that¡¯s the extent of my healing powers. Sorry. Can¡¯t Murdock help?¡± ¡°That¡¯s why we¡ªhic¡ªcalled him over in the first place,¡± the mayor replied. ¡°But he¡¯s useless! And now Melissa is sad! At least he liked our village and decided to stay, though that¡¯s¡ªhic¡ªweird. What¡¯s there to like? He could be rich in Milaris. Wizards are weird, you included.¡± ¡°Damn, man, that sucks.¡± Jerry grabbed Ashman¡¯s shoulders. ¡°I¡¯m sure it will all work out in the end. Unless it doesn¡¯t, of course, but nothing you can do about that. Have you considered that maybe Melissa is sterile instead of you?¡± ¡°No, he¡ªhic¡ªhe examined her. It¡¯s not her. It¡¯s me. He, Murdock, said it¡¯s my fault,¡± the mayor spoke heavily, every word clearly bringing him pain. ¡°That¡¯s why she¡¯s studying herbalism¡­ She wants to find the right medicine and have a baby. She loves children, that¡¯s why she sometimes envies other wo¡ª Oh!¡± He suddenly grabbed his mouth. ¡°Hic! Don¡¯t tell her I said that! Anything!¡± ¡°My lips are sealed,¡± Jerry said, while Derek was only now recovering from his previous streak of mirth. For all his roughness, the man was particularly quick to laugh. ¡°I don¡¯t have a wife, you don¡¯t have a daughter, Melissa is even helping Holly a lot with herbalism,¡± Derek managed to mutter. ¡°Maybe the two of us should just marry each other and let them be¡ª Bwahaha!¡± ¡°Fuck you!¡± Ashman tried to throw his cup at the hunter, but nothing left his hand. He remained thoroughly puzzled for a moment, staring at his empty hands before realizing he¡¯d already thrown the cup earlier. Derek¡¯s roaring laughter shook the tower¡¯s walls, filling it with warmth. ¡°Oh,¡± the hunter said in alarm, his laughter abruptly dying down. His eyes widened. ¡°Oh!¡± he exclaimed again, rushing downstairs. Ashman frowned for a moment, then his eyes widened as well, and he followed with a squeal of his own.This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. Derek and Ashman were struck by swiftly liquidating intestines, forcing them to drunkenly run to the cold woods every few minutes. The rest of the night was filled with pooping, wiping, and loud cursing. It¡¯s incredible how blasphemous a priest¡¯s words could become when drunk and in bowel-cleaning mode. Jerry found it funny at the time, though, in hindsight, it probably wasn¡¯t. This was a great reminder that he was immune to disease, being a necromancer, and that the tea he safely consumed wasn¡¯t necessarily as safe for others. Still, the existence of a convenient laxative was good to know. Boney, who had joined them for the booze but wasn¡¯t speaking much, couldn¡¯t stop laughing. At some point, Jerry decided that the night had dragged on enough and that his friends would manage by themselves, so he went to sleep. This time, he dreamt about being a toad, catching flies and munching on them all day long. It was a peaceful dream. It got even better when his diet turned into mosquitoes. He disliked mosquitoes. They deserved to be eaten. Dawn found Jerry awake and with an annoying headache, but he supposed that was only natural; it was his first time drinking in a long while. Derek and Ashman had barely managed to catch a few winks of sleep between toilet breaks, but those had fortunately abated after a couple of hours. They both slept on their stomachs in a random room on the ground floor. Jerry considered feeling bad for not staying up with his guests, but, well, he didn¡¯t. At least they had Boney to keep them company. His arguable bone puns were certainly great consolation for their pain. Poor them. With that in mind, Jerry did have Boney prepare them all some breakfast in the form of fruits and vegetables. He even added a few pieces of leftover fox meat from yesterday; Shorty was a surprisingly effective hunter. And, until the other two guys woke up, Jerry had a different plan in mind. He would create the one thing he¡¯d wanted for many days now, the most important piece of furniture he could own. He¡¯d desired this since he experienced it in Derek¡¯s house. A heavenly soft chair. Jerry got to work; snatching a few of the rough planks Boney and Headless had prepared for the fence, he nailed them into the shape of a chair, only broader, deeper, and overall larger. He then proceeded to the tower¡¯s warehouse. Besides the goatskin he¡¯d use for shoes, the mayor had also gifted him a long piece of soft wool. Jerry grinned. Slicing the wool into smaller pieces, he nailed it on the large chair frame, eventually creating his most precious property: the heavenly soft chair of his dreams. With a smile full of pride, Jerry placed it on the third floor, gazing upon the chair in all its fluffy glory. It was perfect. So perfect, in fact, that he almost took a seat. At the last moment, however, Jerry stopped himself. As much as he wanted to try it out, he knew that, once he sat, he would instantly fall in love and be unable to stand up again for the near future. Therefore, with a final, longing gaze and a promise to enjoy it very soon, Jerry reluctantly made his way back downstairs, for he still had a job to do. His guests had had a bad night, so he was determined to make them some gifts. And what better gifts than brand new, comfortable pairs of shoes? Was he or was he not a shoemaker, godsdamnit? The whole chair creation had taken only an hour; he had time. Humming, the part-time necromancer headed outside, setting his homemade three-legged stool¡ªthe buffet¡ªdown in a sunny spot, not intending to move it anytime soon. He always preferred extra light when he worked. Plus, having the shoemaking tools out might help people accept he was a shoemaker¡ªhe also had a big wooden sign, but the Billy squad seemed to struggle with the concept. Then again, they probably struggled with most things, like tying their shoelaces. Jerry donned his napron, the traditional green apron shoemakers wore. He then opened his Saint Hugh¡¯s Bones¡ªoh, he should tell Boney about the name¡ªand took out some tools; two knives, a pair of scissors, a ruler, a sewing needle, and finally some sewing line. He then grabbed a piece of soft wood, on which he¡¯d sketched the outline of both men¡¯s feet yesterday. Using a large knife, he cut out wooden soles slightly larger than their footprints. Then, placing them over another piece of soft wood, he cut out a second sole for each shoe size. Placing everything within easy reach, along with a patch of goatskin, he set to work. The first piece of work would be the mayor¡¯s new shoes. Not because the man had any sort of priority over Derek, but because his gift would be swift. He liked wearing simple wooden shoes, called clogs, as far as Jerry could tell. He would get a better version of the same thing. Jerry cut the tanned leather into strips one and a half times as long as the sole¡¯s width. Then, using a few small nails, he hammered the ends of the leather strips onto the soft wood, creating a simple set of goatskin shoes with wooden soles. He even added a thin woolen bottom. For extra stability, he sewed the densely packed strips onto each other, making sure the insides weren¡¯t all stitchy. There were a few more details involved in the process, but Jerry had tuned them out as they were trivial. In about an hour, he was done. These shoes weren¡¯t anything grand, but they were his first ones in a while. He¡¯d chosen to start simple on purpose. To his surprise, when not devoting half his mental faculties to containing his necromantic urges, shoemaking was quite easier than he remembered. Being able to hold his concentration for more than a couple of blinks was helpful. Who would have thought? The simple, familiar labor brought joy to Jerry. It was relaxing to dive into something he knew how to do. His heart was light and his hands loose. He smiled as he worked, losing himself to the process. The next piece would be Derek¡¯s boots. He¡¯d noticed that while the hunter¡¯s current pair was well-made, it had endured more than its fair share of winters. For his benefactor, Jerry wanted to make something really good. Using the wooden soles he¡¯d previously crafted, he grabbed another piece of wood and carved out a tall wooden support for each, hammering it at the sole¡¯s back. The exact height was only a guesstimate, but this part didn¡¯t have to be accurate; these were designed to reach roughly halfway up the calf, serving as support for the boot¡¯s upper part. Following the same process as before¡ªhammering leather strips into the sole and adding woolen bottoms¡ªhe created the boot¡¯s lower half. Then, he repeated the process for the upper parts, this time using leather strips twice as long as the support¡¯s width. Calves were bulkier than feet. He hammered them in densely and stitched them together so that they completely protected the leg from the elements, weeds, and forest animals. After a few hours of relaxed labor, the sun was approaching its peak, and the two pairs of shoes were ready. Of course, the process usually took longer, but Jerry was keeping things as simple as possible on purpose; he hadn¡¯t worked on this in a while. These were only temporary shoes. Once he got back in shape, he would make his friends something truly terrific. Boney and Headless also helped with the heavier parts, expediting the process. To their delight¡ªor mild indifference, depending on which undead you asked¡ªJerry granted them the position of shoemaking assistants, with the prefix of ¡®excellent.¡¯ With the work done, the shoemaker stood up, and a loud ¡®crack¡¯ escaped his back. ¡°Ow,¡± he said. He looked up at the bright sun. It had now been multiple hours since dawn, but Derek and Ashman were still in their rooms. Last night must have really been tough on them, thought Jerry, and felt a bit bad for not checking whether the tea was potable for non-necromancers. The next moment, he got over it. Oh, well. He walked inside. Soon after, both men opened their doors, looking gaunt and pale. The breakfast Boney had prepared seemed heavenly in their eyes, and they devoured it all like rabid beasts, though it was now lunch instead of breakfast. Jerry himself only ate an apple and some fox meat. After resting for a couple of hours, Derek and Ashman tried on their new shoes, letting out exclamations of wonder and severe comfort. These were much better than their previous pairs, and Jerry felt proud of himself. ¡°Wait till you see the next ones,¡± he said. ¡°These are just for practice.¡± Come afternoon, the two men took off, heading back to the village. It hadn¡¯t been an easy night, but both said they had fun, excluding the tea-induced parts. Jerry waved them goodbye and practically ushered them off, for he really couldn¡¯t wait any longer. He had to do it. He had to try out his new chair. Finally left alone, Jerry walked to the third floor, gazed at the chair, prepared himself, then sat on it with a soft ¡®plop.¡¯ It was pure bliss. Jerry fell in love. He swore then and there to never abandon this chair, ever. Alright! he thought. I¡¯m not standing until I¡¯ve made up for all the inferior seating I¡¯ve done in my life! And so, twenty-four hours went past. The next afternoon, Jerry had finally had enough, and he smilingly sat up. Not because he¡¯d gotten bored, of course¡ªhe just realized that, if he didn¡¯t limit himself, this soft chair could easily turn into an addiction! Therefore, Jerry decided to take a break from sitting on the chair and headed outside to lie on the grass by the rocky surroundings of his tower, enjoying the afternoon sun. The wind was getting chillier by the day now, but the cold never bothered him anyway; he just put on his thick woolen coat. Lying in the sun, Jerry realized he quite enjoyed it. He let his thoughts roam free, just relaxing until it was nighttime. He then headed back inside, ate, and lied down. He did it all with a smile. Perhaps he would take a break tomorrow as well. Unless, of course, the world had other plans in mind. But that would be rude, right? Chapter 12: A Web of Secrets ¡°Hey!¡± Derek swung his hut¡¯s door open with a big smile. ¡°I¡¯m back!¡± ¡°Hey dad,¡± Holly said. She was using a round rock to squash some herbs on the table, as Murdock had taught her to. She was working. And she was whistling. ¡°You look mighty happy today,¡± Derek said, rejoicing. Since the Jerry incident, as he called it, she had not smiled much, and now she was whistling. All his sorrows and worries melted away like snow in the spring. He smiled widely, grabbing his daughter in a bear hug. ¡°Dad!¡± she complained. ¡°I¡¯ll mess up the herbs!¡± ¡°So what? You can just regather them,¡± he responded playfully, letting her down so as not to disturb her work. ¡°The forest isn¡¯t that bad.¡± ¡°Yeah¡­ I guess it isn¡¯t.¡± She looked away reservedly, almost bashfully. Wait. This was no ¡®almost¡¯. She had looked away bashfully. ¡°Holly,¡± Derek said, frowning, ¡°do you have anything to tell me?¡± ¡°Nothing,¡± she responded immediately. ¡°Hmm.¡± He went to the fireplace, pondering. He knew to always take his time with his thoughts; his mind had never been the fastest. He prodded the firewood, inspecting the fire his daughter had built by herself; it wasn¡¯t bad. She was learning. She was growing. ¡°Do you like someone?¡± he asked suddenly. ¡°What?!¡± She almost jumped. ¡°No!¡± He grinned. Then, he began laughing. ¡°My little girl is growing up!¡± he said loudly. ¡°Who is it? Georgie? Or John, the blacksmith¡¯s son?¡± ¡°Dad!¡± She blushed. ¡°It¡ª I¡¯m not telling you!¡± ¡°Hohohoho.¡± Derek sat on his soft chair, resting his feet on a three-legged stool he¡¯d once picked up from a dead old man¡¯s belongings. ¡°That¡¯s all right. You¡¯ll tell me when the time comes. Did you know your mother and I were eloping for quite some time? Her parents wanted to wed her to an ugly, weak man. Bah. Thank Manna I was there. And then, after¡ª¡± ¡°I know, Dad.¡± She released a drawn-out groan. ¡°And then you ran away, all the way to Pilpen. I¡¯ve heard the story, like, ten thousand times.¡± ¡°Now you¡¯re exaggerating.¡± He smiled. ¡°It can¡¯t have been more than a hundred. But yes, brave woman, your mother. She left everything behind for me¡­ I hope you can grow strong like her, Holly, but you won¡¯t need to run away. I will accept your choice, no matter what. Children are immature, but some risks should be taken.¡± ¡°Really?¡± She threw him a side glance. ¡°No matter what?¡± ¡°No matter what,¡± he confirmed. ¡°It¡¯s not like you¡¯ll bring me a bandit or a beggar. Hoh, that would be rich.¡± Derek laughed, missing the sad glint in his daughter¡¯s eyes. ¡°Just make sure he doesn¡¯t treat you badly, okay?¡± he continued. ¡°Or I will have to break both of his legs, and then you will be sad.¡± ¡°That¡¯s not going to happen, Dad.¡± She blushed again. She¡¯d long ago discarded her work and come to sit beside him. That made him happy; ever since he¡¯d delayed their moving to Milaris, their relationship had chilled a little. It was nice to see that his daughter still loved him, even if she couldn¡¯t always have things her way. He smiled. Though he could feel her apprehension, she was clearly excited, too. There weren¡¯t many girls in the village, so she was in a clear lack of friends to confess to. For now, he would fill that spot. ¡°Not going to happen? Heh.¡± He frowned playfully. ¡°What, is he stronger than me? I¡¯ll have you know I beat John in last year¡¯s deer-eating competition.¡± ¡°He might be.¡± She straightened her back in pride. ¡°What?!¡± He threw his hands up. ¡°My daughter thinks I¡¯ve gotten old. Soon, I¡¯ll be a sack of bones, and Jerry will be delighted to have me.¡± Though he was joking, his eyes narrowed. There it was again. Holly had recoiled. The look in her eyes had grown glazed, like a trapped deer about to have its throat slit. His heart ached at the sight. She knew that Jerry meant well, but his undead had truly terrified her, and there was nothing Derek could do to help. She would either get over it with time or she wouldn¡¯t, which would be a shame. Jerry was a good guy, one of the few in this village. He was young, too. Perhaps the two of them could¡­ But no, Holly already had someone she liked, apparently. As strong as the urge to arrange her marriage was, he would resist it. His wife¡¯s parents had made that mistake, and where had it led them? Their daughter had run away, and she now lay buried in some far-off mountain village past the Narrow Sea¡­ No. He¡¯d already lost one love. He would not lose another. No matter what. At least, Holly seemed to have someone now. That man could help her if things got rough, or if something happened to her father. He would be a man accepted by others, not an outcast like himself. Derek closed his eyes, reclining in his chair. He would not pressure her; when she was ready, she would tell him. He believed in her choice, whoever that man was. He trusted his daughter. *** ¡°Honey, I¡¯m home!¡± Ashman opened the door of his house and walked in. ¡°Welcome,¡± came an indifferent voice from the kitchen, and his heart clenched. Already, he knew what would follow. ¡°Are you okay?¡± He approached, stepping into the room. It smelled of deer meat and herbs and fire. ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± she responded, hunched over her pot. She didn¡¯t turn to look. His heart bled. His lips formed a straight line of sadness. For the last few months, Melissa had been¡­different. She used to love him. She used to greet him at the door, hugging him tightly. She had always been an affectionate, passionate woman. Now, she barely looked at him anymore. Ashman approached, intending to hug her, but held himself. She would not enjoy it. Although she never openly spoke about it, Ashman believed that their failure to have a child¡ª his failure¡ªhad struck her hard. She had changed, gradually, and one day, she was no longer the woman he¡¯d fallen in love with. But that was okay. People change. And he would still love her through thick and thin, as she would love him forever. They had promised, after all, sitting on a low tree branch under the summer moon.This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it. It was funny. She was the one who talked him into making that promise before they got married, and now, sometimes, the burden of upkeeping it fell entirely on him. But no, he shouldn¡¯t have these thoughts. It was hard for her. Even if she didn¡¯t show it as much anymore, she still loved and cared for him. He was sure of that. He cared for her, too. At least, her recent venture into herbalism gave her some joy. It was like a ray of sunshine through the rain, and seeing his wife occasionally smile while mixing herbs warmed Ashman¡¯s heart. Discarding his previous apprehension, he walked up and hugged her from behind. ¡°It will be okay, Melissa¡­¡± he whispered, leaning into her dark hair. ¡°Everything will be okay. I love you, and I always will.¡± She grabbed his hand, silently giving it a light squeeze, and he let go, then walked out of the room and left her to her task. She never did reply. *** As it turned out, Jerry enjoyed lying on the grass very much. Despite the chill, or perhaps exactly because of it, he liked it more every day. There was just something about resting on the soft grass and closing your eyes¡­ The timelessness returned. With reasonable breaks, Jerry spent three entire days lounging. Others may have gotten bored, but Jerry was a simple man. Power, wealth, shoes, and bones; they could all wait. If something was nice, it was nice. On the third day, Boney approached him. ¡°Excuse me, Master,¡± he said, spurring Jerry to open his eyes. ¡°What is it, my dear butler?¡± ¡°We have a guest, Master. I know him, actually. He¡¯s¡ª¡± ¡°That¡¯s all right. I like surprises.¡± Jerry raised his head to take in his guest, then squinted. Once again, this was a person he did not recognize. A young man, blond and strikingly handsome. Not that Jerry swung that way, but the man¡¯s good looks were easily noticeable. His feet were nestled in well-maintained leather boots, and he wore a white vest that displayed his well-trained chest, while he also had a thin sword¡ªa rapier¡ªhanging from his hip. Jerry wanted to groan. His experience with the Billies had taught him that people who carried swords were rarely customers. ¡°What can I help you with?¡± He stood up, dusting himself. ¡°Your boots look mighty fine. Where did you get them?¡± ¡°Milaris.¡± The man smiled. He gazed at the tower¡¯s wooden sign. ¡°I am not here for your shoemaking expertise.¡± ¡°Is that so? What else is notable about me?¡± Jerry opened his arms wide, clearly oblivious to the nearby bunch of undead building a fence. ¡°Are you not a necromancer?¡± ¡°I am.¡± ¡°Then why do you claim to be a shoemaker, if you don¡¯t mind me asking?¡± ¡°Because I am. Necromancy can¡¯t earn me a living.¡± The man looked at Jerry as if he was an idiot. Jerry thought the man could be a bit more discreet about it, but then again, it wasn¡¯t Jerry¡¯s business. ¡°It can. You can have them hunt, or forage, or even better, steal things for you,¡± said the man with the nice boots, seeming interested in having a conversation. Apparently, he was not familiar with how comfortable grass could be, or he would not be demanding Jerry¡¯s attention for any more than strictly necessary. The necromancer could only look at the ground with longing. ¡°That might be true,¡± Jerry replied, ¡°but if all shoemakers went off to become necromancers, who would make shoes?¡± The man blinked. ¡°What?¡± Jerry sighed, understanding that he would not be enjoying his grass again anytime soon. He stepped forward, extending a hand towards the man. ¡°I¡¯m Jerry.¡± ¡°Brad.¡± Brad gave Jerry a perfect smile, gripping his hand a bit too tightly. Now, Jerry wasn¡¯t the most perceptive of people, but something felt off. This man, Brad¡­ He made Jerry feel uneasy. Just to be sure, he mentally recalled Axehand from woodcutting. The world¡¯s best lumberjack could live with one less log. ¡°How can I help you, Mr. Brad?¡± Jerry asked, playing it cool, only to immediately discover that, for necromancers, playing it cool was a tad more difficult than usual. His undead could sense his mood. By the side, Boney¡¯s joviality had jumped out the window with an anchor tied around its neck. His empty eyes now looked at Brad in what was clearly a hard glare. Jerry could feel the skeleton¡¯s tension. Further away, the fence-builders had stopped working and were collectively staring at Brad. The man coughed. ¡°Ahem,¡± he said, a bit flustered. ¡°There is no need to get upset, my good friend. I have no bad intentions.¡± ¡°I am not upset,¡± Jerry said truthfully. ¡°I just felt something weird about you, and it seems my friends agree.¡± Brad¡¯s eyes narrowed, taking a calculative look. He was clearly deliberating his next words, cutting and pruning them so they were perfect. Jerry never understood these people. Why go through all that trouble when you could just speak your mind? ¡°Allow me to be frank, Jerry.¡± ¡°Frank? I thought you were Brad.¡± Brad ignored him. His current visage was sharp and unconstrained. It was different than before, so it confused Jerry, who decided not to dwell further on the matter. If Brad wanted to hide who he was, there was little sense in trying to figure it out. ¡°I¡¯m a bandit. A member of the Greenskin bandits, in fact. You have recently killed some of our people.¡± ¡°Did I?¡± Jerry asked. He considered lying, just to escape the annoyance of this man who talked in circles. Brad stared at him blankly, again as if looking at an idiot. He pointed at Headless. ¡°That one is still wearing his uniform.¡± Jerry looked at Headless, who was indeed wearing the full uniform of a Greenskin bandit, minus the helmet. The zombie raised a thumb. ¡°You are very observant,¡± Jerry commented, and Brad¡¯s gaze simply couldn¡¯t get any flatter. ¡°I have killed some of your people, yes, but only because they attacked me. Are you here to fight me?¡± ¡°No.¡± Brad smiled, revealing an impressive set of perfect white teeth. ¡°They died because they were fools. We¡ªand I speak for the Greenskin bandits as a whole¡ªare wiser than that. I have been sent here by our esteemed leader, Jericho the Green, to invite you to join our ranks.¡± ¡°Ah, that is delightful!¡± Jerry exclaimed, relieved. They didn¡¯t want to fight him anymore. How nice that he wouldn¡¯t have any more trouble with the bandits. Now, he could calmly focus on making shoes and exploring the depths of life and death. ¡°Thank you, but I refuse.¡± ¡°Hmm? Just that?¡± Brad seemed confused, which quickly transformed into flustered. ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t you want to hear our terms? Our offer?¡± ¡°No, I¡¯m good.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t you want to negotiate, not even a tiny bit?¡± ¡°No.¡± Jerry shook his head. ¡°But why?¡± ¡°Because I¡¯m a good guy. Bandits are bad guys, right? That makes us natural enemies¡ªor at least difficult to get along with.¡± Brad¡¯s eyes widened further. Jerry chuckled. This man was a bit annoying, but he was fun, too. ¡°Just because you think you¡¯re a good guy?¡± he asked. ¡°Yep.¡± ¡°That¡¯s it?¡± ¡°Yep.¡± ¡°But you¡¯re a necromancer!¡± ¡°So what?¡± Jerry crossed his arms. ¡°Necromancers can be good guys, too.¡± ¡°They cannot!¡± ¡°Sure they can.¡± Jerry nodded sagely. ¡°You see, if life is the shoe, then magic is only the sole on which¡ª¡± Unfortunately, Jerry¡¯s wise explanation was interrupted by terrified screams coming from the forest. He opened his mouth to comment. Then, before he could understand what was happening, a head went flying, and the entire world sprang into explosive motion.