Darius walked through the field, four bags of buckwheat piled up on each shoulder.

The crops in this world grew a lot faster, most harvests could be collected within a week if not less, as a result, there were fewer farms.

One or two patches of crops could sustain an entire village, though most villages had a few more patches for the sake of trade and food variety.

"Having fun?" asked the witch following the wolfman who seemingly didn't mind the heavy load.

"I'm not particularly opposed to this kind of work..." Darius remarked, dropping the eight sacks onto the wooden cart before turning to get more.

Two farmers made their way towards the cart at half the speed Darius with a quarter of his load, they were carrying turnips.

The witch looked around and saw an old, brick tower in the distance, its destroyed top poked through the treetops of the nearby forest.

"Guess I'll go do some reading somewhere quiet..." she thought before placing her hands behind her head and wandering over towards the tower.

As soon as she reached the start of the forest she could smell the familiar scent of blood.

"Quite the thick stench..." she thought making her way through the trees as the smell intensified.

Anyone less disconnected from life and death would be disturbed by the smell of this much blood.

The witch casually walked through the leaf-coated forest floor and found herself before a small encampment.

"Wooden palisades, fires, bones, cages... Looks like it's a bandit camp..." Thought the witch.

She let out a sigh, hoping she'd come across a necromancer or at least a rogue scientist to chat with.

She turned back only to be pulled up by the foot.

"A rope trap?" she thought curiously, looking at the rope around her ankle.

From around the forest emerged a handful of bandits.

Swords, maces and flails in hand they were clad in mismatched armour sets, some leather, some plate.

The witch held onto her hat, not wanting to wander the forest in search of it later.

"Four in one week, not bad!" exclaimed one of the bandits, he had long white hair and crimson red eyes.

His eyes seemed thin when compared to the others.

A grin appeared on his face.

A few cheers were heard from around the other bandits.

Unlike regular people, bandits were relatively free for the most part as long as they stole and murdered, they were free to practice other jobs and settle wherever they wished as long as they didn't settle someplace important.

The population of bandits was also not controlled since it was rare for someone to be deemed bandit-material by the gods.

With a single word, the witch rotted the rope away, causing it to turn black and brittle.

She fell onto the ground before getting back to her feet and patting her clothes clean.

"Too bad, if you used a pit-trap I would have been screwed..." remarked the witch.

"Hah! Nice trick, magician!" exclaimed the white-haired man as he drew his cutlass.

"Why don't you show us your face before I sever your head?" asked one man jokingly.

A few laughs were had by the bandits.

"Hmm... I supposed I could let you in on my little secret..." the witch hummed stepping closer towards the ground as she removed her hat.

"I'm going to have to ask that you guys keep this a secret, ok?" she asked playfully as she removed her mask and undid the bandages on her face.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT?!" cried one of the bandits as he quickly threw up right after.

"Now that's just rude, I did as you asked, didn't I?" she asked pretending to be upset.

A few of the bandits also made their retreat, running into their camp and pushing the gates closed as a few others pleaded to be let inside.

"What's a lich doing here?!" demanded the white-haired bandit leader, he turned back to the camp and rushed towards the closed gate.

"Let us in, damn it!" he exclaimed.

No reply came for a few seconds.

"...A...a...AHHHHHHHHHHHH"

Suddenly, screams came from within the closed-off camp.

"What's going on in there!?" demanded the bandit leader.

Inside the camp, the bodies of the freshly killed victims came to life, clawing and biting at the bandits that escaped into the promised safety of the camp.

The white-haired man turned to the witch with a defeated look.

"F-forgive us! We're sorry!" he exclaimed.

"I didn't know she was a lich! How could I have known?!" thought the bandit leader.

The witch applied the bandages and mask again before pulling her hood over her head and putting on her hat.

She walked right up to the bandit and snatched the heavy coin purse from his hip before turning to leave.

The bandit leader didn't react to the money being taken.

The witch turned to face the bandit leader once more.

"You're the leader, right?" she asked.

"Y-yes!" the white-haired man said, clenching his fists and eyes shut.

"You should cheer up,"

"Your friends seem pretty happy," she said melodically before making her way to the tower she saw earlier, ready to enjoy her book.

"What did she mean?" thought the man, he waited for her to leave before opening his eyes and standing up.

He looked around and saw his fellow bandits standing in a circle semi-circle around him.

Their eyes pitch black and their faces distorted into a skin-breaking grin.

"W-what did she do to you?!" asked the bandit-leader, jumping back, pressing his back against the still-closed gate of the bandit camp.

Slowly, with tears streaming down his face the captain turned to the gate and knocked on the wooden gate into the camp.

"Please... let me in..." he pleaded, when no response came he looked up and saw two dozen black-eyed, grinning faces looking at him from the other side of the palisade.

Some of the faces were mutilated, bitten and scratched, but he could recognise most.

The witch read her book and counted her coins, after a few more minutes she undid the fear spell, leaving the bandits perfectly safe except for being traumatized.

"As if I'd waste the real magic on them," she chuckled.