“—must be killed now, for Manna’s sake and ours!”

“Is my daughter’s life worth nothing to you, you stuck-up pri—”

Jerry groggily awoke to the sound of shouting. His head hurt as if the entire mass of Boboar was crammed inside it, and the nearby yelling simply tried to squeeze more and more boars inside Jerry’s head as if it was a red-nosed-jester carriage.

Of course, this kind of pain was so familiar that Jerry barely even noticed it. Then he realized that he had no reason to have a headache; he had already run away, already stopped repressing the magic inside him. So what was going on?

The incident with Holly and a grumpy wizard came to memory. With bleary eyes, he looked around.

The first thing he noticed was two people close by; one was a purple-robed, middle-aged man with a wicked mustache and pointy shoes. Though Jerry’s vision was still unfocused, he recognized this person as the lightning wizard who’d knocked him out—only now, a long gash stretched across his right cheek. Foxy’s work, clearly.

Jerry’s chest swelled with pride. That’s my girl.

He’d long instructed his undead to follow the commands of any human they saw. An unwise decision, really—after Jerry had fallen unconscious, they had been stopped by the wizard's involuntary shouts of 'Stop, stop!' or whatever he might have shouted, but clearly not before Foxy could leave her mark on his face. At least, it must have helped convince the wizard not to kill Jerry on the spot; wild undead weren't the most pleasant opponents.

Opposite the wizard stood a moving mountain. It was a bulky, dark-skinned man 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 crossed arms. Moreover, his head was covered in rich dark hair, while a short, dense beard adorned his face, making his overall visage resemble the master 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 two men were currently in the middle of an argument; the wizard’s haughty look displayed a clear disdain for the larger man, while his opponent glared as if enraged by the wizard’s arrogance. His eyes were stony, his arms crossed, and his entire being oozed straightforward stubbornness; this man clearly had the diplomatic grace of a particularly hot-blooded bull.

Jerry immediately considered both men to be rude; why have an argument in front of a sleeping person?

His vision stretched behind them, making out the beginnings of a crowd and several cobblestone houses. He focused on the crowd; the villagers seemed half-terrified, half-confused, and half-aggressive. Yes, Jerry wasn’t too good at math, but not getting lynched was slightly more important.

“Ah, look what we have here,” said the wizard, demanding Jerry’s attention. “The necromancer is awake.”

“Of course I am,” said Jerry. The headache was still there, slowly diminishing, but Jerry was too experienced with headaches to let it inhibit him. “You were practically shouting in my ear.”

“What gall!” The wizard’s eyes shone purple before the larger man cut him off.

“You shut up. You have already harmed him enough.”

This man’s voice was deep and gruff, rattling Jerry’s bones in a very pleasant way. It was like having a massage. The man bent down, approaching the necromancer’s seated form.

“Allow me to apologize for his behavior, Mr. Necromancer. Jerry.” His voice mellowed. “I am Derek, Holly’s father. She needed sleep due to the shock, but she sends you her gratitude. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“Likewise.” Jerry smiled. Friends were always good to have. “But why am I tied up?”

Indeed, long, thick ropes were wrapped around Jerry’s body, tying him to a short stake in the middle of what was probably the village square.

“A misunderstanding,” said Derek.

“Your birth was a misunderstanding.” The wizard snorted coldly, turning to Jerry. “I caught you kidnapping Holly... You’re lucky I didn’t kill you on the spot, heathen. You should be ashamed. Magic is a heavy gift,” he said with a hint of pride, “and necromancers clearly buckle under its weight.”

“Did I not tell you to shut the fuck up?” growled Derek, turning only his eyes. “Now that he’s awake and clearly friendly, let’s untie Jerry here.”

“Absolutely not.” The wizard crossed his arms. “I was lucky to ambush him; if he sets his minions on us, Derek, we are dead. You did not see those monsters. Release him, and you are dooming us all. The entire village.”

“Holly was clear, Murdock. This man saved her.”

“And then she mysteriously fell unconscious before this stranger tried to drag her away. I don’t doubt your daughter’s words but for the love of God, 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.”

Derek frowned, a vein pulsing on his temple.

“That’s the same half-assed prejudice people used to throw at me. You are full of shit, Murdock. I am not letting my family’s benefactor die.”

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.

“He’s a necromancer!” insisted the wizard in the derisive voice that characterized him. “His kind brought us the Curse, the Damn Wall, the Red Week!”

“So what? He’s not illegal,” replied Derek.

“It is detestable.”

“But not illegal.”

“Well, that’s enough. I’m letting him go.” Derek stepped towards Jerry. Behind him, a sizzling sound came from Murdock’s hands. His eyes shone purple and his short hair rose like spikes.

“Do not ignore me, peasant,” he growled. Derek snorted, turning to look the wizard straight in the eye.

“Or what?” he asked calmly. Facing the man’s back, Jerry could see that his entire body was taut. He was ready to pounce.

“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!”

“Mayor.” The two men frowned as they regarded the new arrival.

“Just… give me a moment.” The plump man got out between heavy breaths. His head was bald and his clothing rich, with red, fluffy leathers 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.

Jerry snatched this opportunity to once again take in the crowd, now that his eyes had had time to focus properly. Everyone wore wood nettle around their necks—that was bad news—excluding only Derek and Murdock. Moreover, the wizard had a red feather strapped on his shoulder, signifying him as a member of the pyromancy school.

In fact, all wizards were obligated by law to carry a colored feather signifying their identity and the magic school they belonged to. They had to wear it on all public places 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 Murdock worn that feather in the forest, as he was supposed to, Jerry wouldn’t have underestimated him.

But what’s done is done.

“What is going on here?” asked the mayor, having finally caught his breath.

“This man is a necromancer.” Murdock repeated his pitch. “For the sake of us all, we must kill him now.”

“He saved Holly. He did nothing wrong,” insisted Derek. “I am not letting him die.”

Murdock snapped. “The only reason necromancers are not hunted down, you puny-minded imbecile,” he said, emphasizing the last word, “is because the Kingdoms are afraid of the Dead Lands’ ire. Unlike the rest of us, necromancers always succumb to the temptation of power; they are invariably evil. They must be killed on sight.”

“Oh yeah? Try it.”

“In the name of Manna, can you two stop squabbling like children?” fumed the Mayor. “I am standing right here! This is my decision! Am I or am I not the Mayor?!”

Two hard glares landed on him and the Mayor visibly shrunk. “I mean, I should get a say in this too,” he muttered.

Jerry felt like laughing. How was such a soft man the mayor? Actually, why did this village have a mayor, to begin with? It looked tiny. Like, thirty-houses tiny. Maybe it was because the Mayor dressed so well?

The three men kept squabbling but Jerry tuned them out. Even if it was his life on the line, they did not seem to appreciate his input and were annoying, so why bother listening?

If I die, I die, I guess… Oh, but if they let me live, would they also let me stay? he wondered, looking around in curiosity.

…Nah.

This was a mountain village through and through. A few dozen cobblestone-and-wood houses, all arrayed in loose rows around a wide, empty space. The entire settlement was built on rocky ground on a mostly flat part of the mountainside, and it was as small as could be. The only notable feature was a thin stream a few hundred paces to the side.

Jerry didn’t particularly care. A home was a home, and a village was a village. On second thought, size did matter; smaller was better. More people would mean more trouble, as necromancers were traditionally disliked.

Currently, the sun was beginning to set, and smoke was already escaping several stone chimneys. The smell of dead animals hung faintly in the air—indicating this to be a hunting village—along with the vague hint of a more tangy smell; drying hides. Unlike most, these people had the prudence to place the tannery outside the village.

He also noticed several pens, each housing a few tens of livestock—goats, mostly, as they were thought to repel undead. Another useless superstition.

“Let’s just let the man speak,” the mayor said, and Jerry almost groaned as they forced him to focus.

“Yes?” he asked politely.

“Tell us about yourself, Mr... “ trailed the mayor. Next to him, 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 am 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.”

“Shoemaker?” The mayor raised a brow, still sweating from Murdock’s and Derek’s combined pressure. “I didn’t know necromancers could have so… mundane professions.”

“Sure we can. I wasn’t always a necromancer. By the way, if you decide not to kill me, can I stay here? You know, since I saved that girl.”

The crowd burst into indignant whispers.

Perhaps this wasn’t the best time to bring up the issue, 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 annoying, 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, suddenly hyperventilating, 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 get 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 began to sweat even more. But Mother Manna preaches mercy. What should I do?

“Ashman.” Derek raised a hand, quieting the crowd’s murmurs with his voice. “It is late, and darkness breeds bad decisions. Moreover, we are all tired. How about this; my house will be his prison for the night—and come morning, we can discuss this again.”

“You plan to take this animal into your house?” Murdock hissed, and Derek glared at him.

“You shut your ugly mouth. All you can do is talk. Where were you when my daughter was attacked by bandits? It was your job to protect her. You go on and on about your magic and superiority, but… Bah! 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 shook 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. If your negligence had caused her harm…” His eyes narrowed. “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 towards us, and necromancers are not outlaws, to begin with. If Derek is willing to brave the risk, then so be it. We can meet again at dawn, not an hour later.”

Murdock was almost as purple 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 but did not reply.

“Disperse, everyone.” The mayor waved his hands in the air and the crowd dissipated slowly, sneaking looks back towards 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, sometimes, 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 smirked. “I certainly hope so,” he replied, walking away. “Goodbye, Jerry. May the Wall hold forever.”

“May the Wall hold forever, Ashman.”

A heavy hand landed on Jerry’s shoulder. Turning around, Derek was there, smiling widely. “That wasn’t the warmest of welcomes, but I’ll make sure to compensate you with my best hospitality. Let me untie you. Tonight, my house is your house.”