The Corpse Hunter loaded his groceries into the wagon alongside the body. A white cloth covered the woman’s figure that was now as cold and still as an autumn evening. Evidently her fever had not gotten better.

Aiden had waited twenty minutes for the grieving storekeeper to release his deceased wife before she could be removed from their bed. Once she'd been placed in the wagon he returned to the old man and gave him a slip of paper. It informed the old man that he should contact the Council of Plinth so they could assist him with funeral arrangements. After the Corpse Hunter had cleansed the body of course.

When it came to cleansing bodies that were found in the Dungeons he usually worked on them immediately. Regarding the ones found in Plinth, well he preferred to deal with them in private. No one likes working with someone watching over their shoulder. Even less so when that someone is a crying loved one of the corpse you're leaning over.

While he had a preference for side streets some were too narrow for the gray cart. So the gray clad man pulled his wagon along the main thoroughfare. It was late evening by now and the supernatural sun of the Column was starting to set.

The streets were less populated but he still met some light foot traffic. As always, those who passed by the Corpse Hunter made a point of turning their heads. He hadn't killed the woman whose body he was transporting but the way people treated him he may as well have.

Fortunately as it got darker the number of people he came across thinned out. At one point he had to stop and pull a lantern from the hatch at the front of the cart. Column law dictated that anyone traveling at night was required to carry a light. He was no exception.

Eventually Aiden reached his destination, a familiar two story wood shack that looked as eerie as the cemetery it was built around. The wooden panels and clay shingles were earthen tones, well befitting of the mood that came with their surroundings.

Reaching into his coat pocket Aiden pulled out a small ring of keys. It was one of many things he had inherited along with his Fate. The long key he held up belonged to the hulking iron gate that guarded the graveyard. While it wasn't nearly as sturdy as the gate that guarded the Column entrance it was undoubtedly a piece of fine craftsmanship.

Wards were carved into the gate's surface to discourage anything interred within the cemetery from trying to leave. The same was true of the iron bars that made up the fence. This was but a precaution, for if Aiden did his job well there wouldn’t be any attempted break outs.

The last Corpse Hunter, the one before Aiden, liked to joke that part of his job was to stand guard over a maximum security cemetery. Unfortunately the ability to cope with misfortune through dark humor was not a gift that the current Corpse Hunter had inherited. That's what the alcohol in his cart was for.

After hauling his cart through the large metal gate the man in gray stopped to lock the entrance behind him. He gave it a tug to ensure it was secure and continued up the path to his home. Despite its imposing exterior the shack was well maintained. It was technically owned by the Council of Plinth along with the other public service buildings like the Guard Stations and thus its upkeep was their responsibility.

There was a small garage attached to the shack which the man in gray took the cart into. Inside was a wooden table large enough for even the largest of Column Dwellers. Vagrant had learned not to accompany its owner inside buildings, as most folks didn't much enjoy his terrifying presence. Generally he waited outside on the gray cart or perched somewhere nearby. The shack was different of course, it was as much his home as it was Aiden's so he waddled in behind the man in gray as he was taking the body out of the cart.

After the body was laid out on the table the man in gray took the lantern and placed it on a hook in the center of the room to illuminate his work space. Then he glanced at the bags still in the bed of the cart. A large bottle was partially visible as it hung halfway out of one bag. The Corpse Hunter looked to the vulture who was watching him with its head cocked to one side.

"You're right Vagrant, we should have a drink while we work," Aiden said as he pulled two shot glasses from a nearby shelf.

He poured one for himself and one for the bird which he placed on the floor. Slowly he pulled out the silver dagger along with his assortment of herbs, ointments, and holy symbols. He placed each of them out on the table in front of himself.

It didn't take long to go through the same process he had gone through with the heretic's corpse earlier in the day. That had been somewhat of a special occasion though. Normally he was responsible for the treatment and disposal of bodies. In certain situations, such as heresy, the Ascension Academy had their own containment protocols. The old woman on the table before him wasn't a heretic though so he resumed his normal duties.

Once the body was cleansed it was bathed in holy water and allowed to soak for half a day before being buried. This created a barrier around the partial soul that remained within the corpse, keeping it firmly in place. He also had the ability to create a barrier around the partial soul directly through the use of his Fate. That is what he had done to the heretic as the Ascension Academy wasn't interested in waiting half a day before disposing of the body.

But that was a primary gift of his Fate and as such it put a lot of strain on his body. Every Fate came with three different tiers of gifts. Primary abilities, secondary abilities, and tertiary abilities. Primary abilities were the strongest gift of any Fate but came with the highest cost. Soul Barrier was Aiden's most commonly used primary ability and it required him to sacrifice some of his own life force to use.

This was the same price every Fate Holder was forced to pay for their most powerful gifts. Every now and then the Corpse Hunter would come upon the body of someone who had pushed themselves too far and literally died from the inside out.

Secondary abilities required a conscious effort to use but were far less demanding compared to primaries. While they still required some of their Fate Holder's life force to use there was significantly less danger in overexertion from these types of gifts.

Well trained Fate Holders often kept some of their secondary gifts active at all the times as doing so put little strain on their bodies. Tether Sight was by far Aiden's favorite secondary ability. It allowed him to determine if a living being within line of sight was about to die by examining the thread that tethers their soul to this world.

Tertiary abilities were often far less flashy or exciting compared to the other tiers. The one benefit they had over secondary and primary abilities however was the fact that they were always active. So long as a Fate Holder was still alive their tertiary abilities remained in effect, even while unconscious.

The most useful tertiary ability gifted to a Corpse Hunter was Death Sense. This extrasensory gift helped them hone in on the location of the dead which was especially helpful when hunting corpses in Dungeons.

With the body of the old woman fully submerged in a tub of holy water the Corpse Hunter dried off his hands. That was enough work for one day, what remained of dusk was his to do with as he pleased. Naturally he was pleased to finish the bottle of spirits he already started but Vagrant wouldn’t stop squawking until he ate some of the food he had bought.

He complied, more to satiate the bird than his own growling stomach. A wedge of cheese and some sausage slices made up the bulk of his dinner with some crackers on the side. He offered Vagrant some of his meal but naturally the bird wasn’t interested. He didn’t need to eat and took no interest in the food.

Though he looked like an ordinary vulture in reality he was a manifestation of the Corpse Hunter Fate. Some Fates possessed the ability to conjure otherworldly creatures known as Familiars. Vagrant was one such creature, hailing from the Ethereal plane, a sort of limbo between the world of the living and the afterlife. Aiden knew his avian companion didn’t need to eat or sleep while in the land of the living, that knowledge came with his gifts.

Nonetheless he always offered food and drink to the bird. That’s what friends did and this bird that was made up of stardust and magic was the closest thing the man in gray had to a friend. When both his stomach and vulture were silent he was free to return his attention to the liquor bottle that sat on the wooden table.

All of his instruments were back in his coat pockets where they belonged and only the bottle remained. The Corpse Hunter picked it up and walked out of the garage that he used as a work place. Behind the two story shack was another building, smaller in contrast and made entirely of glass. This was the greenhouse where he grew his herbs for use in cleansing corpses.

It also doubled as his drinking chambers for it allowed him a full three hundred and sixty degree view of his surroundings at all times. Plopping down onto a padded chair Aiden propped his feet up onto a nearby footstool. The previous Corpse Hunter had apparently enjoyed lounging about in the greenhouse as well, for the furniture was already here when Aiden had moved in.

Vagrant perched on the top of a trellis not far from his owner. The vines growing through the latticework swayed gently when the vulture landed, as if hit by a light breeze.

“To a hard day’s work, may we die in our sleep so that we never have to work another day in our life,” Aiden said before bringing the bottle to his lips.

He fell asleep looking up at the stars of the Column’s night sky. He had never figured out if they were just an illusion or a projection of real stars somewhere else in the universe. Either way they were a far better sight than anything else in the Column and one of the reasons he preferred to sit in the greenhouse when drinking at home.

The morning sun brought with it the start of a new day. It also brought forth a reminder that the eternal darkness that had consumed Fallendahl had yet to consume those who lived within the Column. Most people were nervous about being out at night, even within the safety of their Column. So each dawn was a welcome sight for those that had grown up in fear of the shadows that had destroyed the world of their ancestors.

One person in particular couldn’t care less about the sun that graced Plinth each day. If it burned out just as the real sun had he wouldn’t bat an eye. That person being Aiden, as each new day meant more work. And work was his least favorite activity. The alcohol he’d drank the night before had put him in a deep enough sleep that even the magical sun of the Column shining down through the greenhouse roof wasn’t enough to wake him from his slumber.

Vagrant on the other hand was already awake. Though he technically didn’t need to sleep he did meditate, which allowed him to connect with the Ethereal plane. Even with his advanced knowledge on the many facets of his Fate, Aiden was still at a loss for what this meditation actually achieved. Vagrant always seemed more alert and focused afterwards so he assumed it to be similar to the benefits of a full night’s rest for a human.

Stretching his wings after finishing his meditation Vagrant looked about the room. His owner was still asleep on the padded chair a few feet away, an empty bottle clutched tightly in his hands like a teddy bear in the arms of a child. The vulture flew over to him, landing on the padded armrest. When Vagrant began nuzzling the drunken man’s neck he swatted at the bird, but stopped after he felt a handful of familiar feathers between his fingers.

“Morning buddy,” Aiden said from beneath the tricorn hat that was slumped over his face. He’d passed out in the greenhouse so many times that it had become muscle memory to put his hat over his face so he wouldn’t wake up with the sun in his eyes. He stretched and climbed out of the chair, but not before giving the bird a few scratches under the chin.

There had been more than enough time for the corpse in the garage to soak in the holy water. The only thing left to do now was to bury it and alert the Council of Plinth so they could contact the family. A grave had already been dug in the cemetery the day prior, the Corpse Hunter liked to keep ahead of the game, so to speak.

It was a simple enough task to retrieve the body from the garage and deliver it to the grave. He used the cart though as it was still a decent walk from his homestead to the gravestones. A large plot of land had been set aside behind the Council's Chambers not long after the staircase leading to the Dungeons had appeared. Some very insightful Council members of the past had correctly guessed that many Column Dwellers would perish trying to ascend to the floors above.

Aiden placed the body at the bottom of the grave and then went about shoveling dirt atop it until the grave was filled. He then placed a temporary wooden maker so the council would know where to find the remains. Most folks hired a craftsman to make a permanent gravestone and thus the temporary ones were swapped out during the funeral.

The Council took care of the funerals and had their own keys to the cemetery so the Corpse Hunter didn’t need to worry about any of those finer details. He pulled out a small piece of parchment and wrote down a few notes onto it before offering the scroll to Vagrant.

“Take this to the Council for me, will you? After that we’ve got more work,” the man in gray said.

Vagrant squawked loudly.

When the bird flew off he walked back to the shack that he called home. The cart went back to its normal place in the garage and he headed inside. Aiden took off his gray overcoat and hung it up on the coat rack near the doorway and went straight into his den.

An armor stand rested in the corner of the room with a set of studded leather armor which he pulled over his head like a poncho. Most armor was crafted with the expectation that someone would help the wearer don it but Aiden had managed to do so on his own in short order after many years of practice.

With the buckles and leather straps fastened in place at his sides he moved his eyes over to the short sword that sat in its sheath on a nearby hook. He took the belt that the sheath was attached to and wrapped it around his waist, allowing the excess to hang down in front of him. There was a dagger on the next hook over which he took as well, placing it in his boot.

The silver knife that he kept on him at all times wasn’t meant for fighting, it was part of his cleansing ritual. The blades he had just added to his person were what he fought with when the need arose.

They weren’t the only additions to his arsenal though. A small cabinet sat along the wall between the sword hooks and the armor stand. He opened it revealing a modified hand crossbow that he could mount to the underside of his wrist. This was meant to be mounted to the user’s off hand in case their primary weapon was lost or their dominant hand became injured.

Aiden was right handed so the small crossbow was secured to his left wrist. A small bundle of crossbow bolts were neatly tucked into a leather pouch which he strapped to the outside of his left thigh.

There were a few other odds and ends within the cabinet that he grabbed as well, including a few glass bottles filled with various colored liquids. These were placed in the large pack that he kept under the cabinet which was already filled with a variety of other things that he might find a need for later.

When he was content with the collection of weapons, armor, and accessories he left the den. Aiden put his overcoat back on and carried the bag out to the garage before tossing it into the cart. He’d put it back on whenever he needed space in the cart, until then the heavy backpack could stay where he’d tossed it. With a loud squawk Vagrant circled overhead a few times before landing on the Corpse Hunter’s shoulder.

“Perfect timing,” the man said. “Today we’re going corpse hunting.”