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 an outhouse too, of course; what were they, animals?

“This is a nice little house you have there,” commented Jerry, taking it all in as Derek opened the door. “Did you build it yourself?”

“Every plank and nail,” the man replied lovingly, setting off towards 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. Actually, this was the first time he used a chair in Gods know how long.

Solitude was nice, but it had its drawbacks. This feeling 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.

Besides the wool-laden chair Jerry was resting in and another, similar but larger chair, the only other 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 sat in a corner, probably where Derek slept.

It was nice and clean. Derek was a simple man, it seemed, but Jerry did not dislike that. Besides, when compared to his poorly-constructed shack back in the woods, this was heaven. There was even a noticeable rise in temperature as soon as they walked in, making Jerry feel the need to remove his woolen coat.

But that would require standing up, and the chair was just too comfortable.

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?” asked Derek, 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 rough 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. Then he rose again, remembering something. “You must be cold,” he said matter-of-factly. “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. This 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 draft 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 are a generous host, Derek. Thank you for your hospitality.”

“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 are my family’s benefactor, so it’s only right we treat you properly. Besides, us outcasts should stick together. Speaking of that… could you describe what happened with Holly? She told me some incoherencies, 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 a criminal.

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—who were waiting near the bandit corpses, as Murdock had told Derek—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, and then left forever. How he experimented with necromancy, how it wasn’t evil, as people thought, and about all the exciting things he could achieve with it.

The details of bone grafting flew way over Derek’s head but the making of a tusked fox, in particular, got his attention—and his laughter. The deep, earnest sound seemed to vibrate 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,” he finally said, realizing he had perhaps spoken for a bit longer than intended, “did I overexplain? I wanted to add some context to the bandit encounter.”

“That’s alright.” Derek smiled warmly. “You needed it.”

“Yeah, I did… To be fair, you did ask for details.”

“I did.” He laughed, having drunk three quarters of the bottle himself. “You seem to be a good guy, Jerry. Allow me to apologize for Murdock again. He can be an asshole.”

“It’s fine.” The necromancer sighed, huddling deeper inside his oh-so-heavenly chair. “It was an honest misunderstanding, and, well, my fox did almost kill him, apparently. Anyone would be upset.”

“Upset enough to demand the other person’s lynching?” Derek raised a brow, and Jerry nodded.

“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 chuckled darkly. “Murdock often preaches that wizards are different, superior to us normal folk, and the idiots around here nod like pecking hens. They do not understand that, besides the ability to throw lightning, wizards are as human as everyone. Many of the villagers simply trust Murdock blindly; he’s a wizard and a herbalist, so of course they do. Even Ashman seems to follow that old dog, though he does it out of necessity.”

“Ashman… That’s the mayor, right?”

“Too grand a word for our little village.” Derek shook his head. “Melissa, his wife, is a bit… ambitious. Like Murdock, she enjoys the feeling of superiority. She wants her husband to be the mayor, and 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 work.”

“So it’s 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, a village under the city of Milaris. We are a few houses of hunters, gatherers, wood-cutters, 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.”

“Merchants 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. The first two are Ashman, our mayor and pastor, and Murdock, our wizard and herbalist. As for the third one, well—” he pointed a thumb at himself— “that’s me. I am a hunter, and a damn good one at that. In the forest, I run things.”

“Oh, stellar.” Jerry smiled as the fire cracked. “And why would I want to know these people?”

“Well, if you’re going to settle here, it’s important.”

“Settle here?” The necromancer’s eyes widened. “But Murdock said I can’t.”

“And I say you damn well can.” Derek snorted. “I’ll put in a good word for you. My opinion weighs at least 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. But 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 too bad, he did look like a crazy hermit, according to Derek. Not the best image for an important meeting.

“Take the fur,” said Derek, pointing at the stitched row of furs that usually served as his bed. “I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“That’s alright, 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. “Besides, those furs may not be much, but I can’t let my guest sleep on the floor!”

Jerry touched the tanned fur. It was smooth—heavenly, even, just like the chair. Oh, how long had it been since he’d slept on something soft. These furs might not be much to Derek, but to Jerry, they were made of clouds.

He smiled, full of happiness. Derek was a good man. And as for the village of Pilpen, well…

It was probably as good a place as any.

***

Morning arrived quickly. And 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 actually managed to make himself presentable. It turns 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 can work 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 was of the opinion that Jerry should be outright killed, not just kicked away from the village. 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 came. However, there would be two conditions:

The first condition was dictated by the mayor’s wife, Melissa—a beautiful, raven-haired woman with a sharp tongue who also participated in the village council. Jerry would not be living inside the village, but rather in a residence an hour away. On top of 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 now 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—searching for a place to call home—had lasted for about two months, and he was only half-tired by the end of it.

The second condition had come from the mayor himself. Jerry would have to use his powers to protect the village from bandit attacks. That’s actually what convinced the villagers to let him stay, as the Greenskin bandits had moved closer to them this year and raids had already befallen several nearby villages. Fear was high, and extra power was dearly 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.

Only 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 hat.

Nobody else had any objections, so the agreement was quickly made formal by shaking hands. Most of the villagers still gave him the stink eye, but oh well. Jerry 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.

But before he got there, he had an important job to do; get Boboar and Foxy, and then fetch yesterday’s bandit corpses. They couldn’t come to his tower themselves.

Yet.