Grendel, Durham, Dietrich, Perrin, Soren, Serena, Margaret, and I sat in the back of the third wagon. It was cramped to say the least. But none seemed to notice or care. They were likely still caught up in what had gone on earlier.

Durham, the bandit leader, Amelia, Harold and two of the other bandits had joined the caravan. They had no quicker form of transportation and wanted to get the medicine for the sick at their camp as soon as possible. Dietrich agreed on the condition that some of their number would pitch in for lookout duty, unpaid of course, and Durham agreed.

Everyone in the wagon had the same stare; a motionless, confused stare pointed down the center of their vision. None wanted to so much as mention it, no, none dared to do or say a thing. They simply kept on pondering over it.

That is, until Perrin had a jolt of inspiration play through his eyes and face, raising his hunched in thought head, and bringing out from his sack a deck of cards, he said hopefully, “You guys want to play a game?”

None responded except Margaret, turning to him and leaning forward, she said, sounding genuinely interested, “What kind of game?”

To this, Serena became interested as well. And to that, so did Soren.

And Perrin, joyful that his idea seemed to be working so far, explained, “It’s called werewolf; each person is given a role of werewolf or villager, and among the villagers, there’s one seer and doctor. The game happens in one of two stages; during the night, the werewolves can choose to kill a villager, the seer can choose a person to identify the role of, and the doctor can protect someone from being killed - oh, and no one knows the role of anyone at the start, except the werewolves know who the other werewolves are, and everyone closes their eyes at the start of night. The goal of the game for the villagers is to identify and lynch the werewolves with a vote during the day. And the goal for the werewolves is to kill all the villagers. It’s basically a game about deception and luck. If you can convince people you are who you say you are or aren’t who they think you are, you win.”

Grendels ears perked as he listened to the rules, and then he also turned his attention to Perrin.

Dietrich commented, “How are the roles decided?”

“How are we to communicate our nightly businesses,” asked, Durham.

Perrin had a brimming smile as he made a fan of cards in his hands and said, “I give each of you a face down card, and the roles are decided like that. I’ll communicate with those who have roles in the night by tapping on you and making silent gestures. Are we ready to play?”

All nodded.

Perrin hopped down from his seat and handed the cards out. And after asking if everyone was ready, he began the night phase. Everyone ducked their heads down or covered their eyes with their hands.

A few hours had passed, and they had played the game a couple times, the other bandits and coachmen tagging in, as they too heard the laughs and cries of accusation and denial being made.

“I can’t believe you guessed I was a werewolf on the first night!” exclaimed Soren to Dietrich.

“It was simple luck my friend! Hahaha!” said Dietrich who was too high from his win to notice Soren’s palpable agitation.

“I’m so sorry I voted to lynch you, Margaret,” said Serena solemnly.

Margaret shook here head, “I would’ve too, Grendel looks way too harmless.” They both looked at Grendel with his wide, innocent mouth. To which he simply shrugged. And then the three laughed uproariously.

Durham grumbled by himself, arms crossed, “If I were the seer, if only, I would’ve been able to win easily.” Durham had died multiple times as a villager, each and every time before doing so, he had accused correctly a werewolf, but none had believed him.

“How about another game?” asked Margaret.

All nodded again. But they couldn’t play another game. The had wagon stopped, and Harold popped his head into the wagon, and said, “We’re here.”

Dietrich tilted his head and asked, “Here? As in here, here?”

He nodded, “I think so.”

Dietrich left his bench and the wagon. All followed. The sun was nearing the horizon. We came to the front of the wagons, and there it was, Antimony city’s check in area. An iron gate installed in a dome-like opening inside a tall stone wall was raised. In front of and beside the door was a stone hut with a man in partial armor in it. He stood to attention, his back straight, however, his face bored. He eyed us in an expectation of approach.

Dietrich approached, presented his papers, and paid his tax. Since none of the others were responsible for hauling in cargo for trade, they were not required to show identification or pay a tax.

“We should find an inn first. We’ll deliver the bear to the guild tomorrow.” Soren and Perrin agreed. We had taken the bear out from Dietrich’s wagon when we entered the city. “Margaret, can you stay at the same inn as us so we can give you your share."

Margaret nodded, and then turned to Grendel and asked, “What are you going to do now that you’re in the big city.”

“I don’t know,” replied Grendel, as if he had just thought of it, what would he do, “If you guys don’t mind, I’ll stay at the same inn as you guys.”

“Of course we wouldn’t mind,” said Serena, “We’re basically the only friends you’ve got in town, so feel free to ask us anything. I mean, literally anything. Since, you know, you were kind of born today.”

“Hey!” said Perrin, “That means it’s your birthday! Happy birthday! Oh! And you know how people say, ‘I wasn’t born yesterday!’? Well, now you can say it proudly, I was born yesterday!”

All laughed, including Dietrich and Durham who had been casually walking along the same main road as the party.

“Hey, don’t you have a place you have to be going? I mean to store your goods and stuff?” asked Serena who had noticed. "Most places close by sunset."

He nodded and said, “Indeed I do. But it’s not in a warehouse, no, I have some friends who own an inn; they agreed to store my goods. And it's close by. If you’d like, you all could come. I’m sure they’d give us a discount since we’re such a large party.”

All agreed.

The inn took a spot on a corner street, and it was large as well with multiple stories, and a blue-tiled roof. Dietrich entered first. The first floor that also served as a tavern was half full. Over the noise of the patrons, Dietrich and the inn owner met eyes. The inn owner stopped cleaning the mug in his hand and rushed from behind the bar, to Dietrich, and said, “It’s been too long, old friend!” The man grabbed at Dietrich and embraced him, lifting him from the floor. Dietrich, however, did not reply in full, no he simply took the hug with his arms tucked in and said both in pain and good humor, “Good to see you too, Boris.”

The rooms were decided and the party had dinner, reminiscing on the games of mafia further and after that, sharing stories of the past, backstories if you will. Durham told of his life before banditry, of how he was just another villager, son of the town’s gravedigger, and expected to become the next, and how he wanted more. Then his wife had been passing through his town. She was the second daughter of a lesser noble who was unsure of her prospects as well. In the end, they ran off to become bandits. They didn’t have much, but at least they were together.

And Dietrich told of how he was the third son of his house, so he too, after his first brother would inherit the house, had little prospects as well. That is, until he took up the merchant’s trade. It started out quite crumbly, with him losing nearly all of his starting capital, but he had some friends in the merchant's guild who had given him a small loan of a couple hundred gold.

After dinner was over, everyone went to wash-up. It must have been long since they last did so, since they’ve been traveling so long, and most inns outside of cities didn’t have rooms dedicated to it. When Serena and Margaret were walking into the lady’s room, I too of course, walked in as well. Or attempted to.

Margaret pushed against me and said, “Wo! No, not you too! Wait outside!” I stepped back and did so.

“Your uncle sure is overprotective,” said Serena.

“Hahaha! Yeah.” Margaret tried to laugh it off.

After Margaret finished with her bath, the two walked to Margaret’s room. They said their farewells and Serena turned to leave, Margaret suddenly called out to her, “Hey!”

To this, Serena started, turned back around, and asked half-spooked, “what?”

“Uh, haha, nothing. Just wanted to scare you!”

“Well mission accomplished. Good night.”

“Night.” And Serena left.

Margaret closed the door.

Margaret turned to the interior of the room and looked around; it had one bed, a stand beside it, a chest at the end of it, a window on the side opposite the door, and a chair beside the window. She then stepped up to the side of the bed, turned away from it, and flopped down on it with her back. I followed her and stood beside the bed.

“You can sit in the chair.” she said.

My body did not move.

She sighed and said, “Sit in the chair,” and got up on her elbows and turned to point at it. When she saw me sit, she then flopped back down on the bed. “I hate ordering you around. I’m sure you hate it too. If you can hate too. If you could.”

I don’t think you or I have much of a choice.

“It feels like it’s been forever since I talked with you - or to you. So much has happened in the past few days. I never imagined I would be in this place in this way, and with such people, or that what happened would have happened.”

I hardly think anyone would have.

“I know I probably shouldn’t have asked you to save them when I did. They could have been like those knights. But when I saw them in trouble, I couldn’t think of anything else. They were in trouble and we were there. I’m sure they would have done the same, if they were there.”

I know helping people is good and right. But I was and am still more worried about you.

“After we met Dietrich, I was looking through Papa’s book. I was looking for a way to undo the spell.”

What? Why?

“I think it’s okay now. I think I’m safe. When we were at that inn, in that town, when they showed up again, I think one of them saw me, but they didn’t really do anything, right?”

No, it's not. It's not safe.

“And it’s been days since that night, and you… killed them all.”

It’s been two days! They could still find you somehow!

“I think I’ve figured out how to undo the spell. I’m going to free you once I’ve figured out a decent excuse.

No!

“I’m pretty sure Serena and everyone else will understand and help me out. And I’ve still got some silver and copper left. And also the money from the bear!”

No, no, no!

“Good night.” She wrapped herself in the sheets and turned away from me. The sun had set.

No… you’re still not safe.

I wanted to shake and shout. I wanted to tell her everything I felt. I wanted to break that hopeful smile of hers by reminding her of her crushing reality. But I couldn’t.

— — — — —

Morning came, and Margaret woke late compared to everyone else. When she came down to the tavern, many had already grabbed a table. Durham sat in a table with his fellow bandits. Dietrich sat with his coachmen and Grendel. And Serena, Soren and Perrin took up a table, one with two seats remaining. Breakfast and talk of what they would do for the day was being had. Margaret and I joined them. The trio would turn in the quest, and it was decided Margaret and I would join them as well, to not only obtain my share of the reward, but to also carry the bear.

Suddenly, the bustling inn grew quiet. Nine newcomers had arrived; they wore full plate armor, and white tabards with the symbol of a dragon coiled around a pyre on it. All eyed them suspiciously, as if these sort were known for an undesirable reputation, but eventually, the inn’s noise and business went on again. Margaret did nothing, she simply froze in place, staring wide-eyed at the inn’s entrance. Serena noticed this and tried to get her attention, but couldn’t.

Eight of them stayed back by the door, arms folded behind their backs. Except one. He took off his helmet, (he was old with white hair, a sharp chin and hooked nose) held it between his elbow and side, and walked forward, to the bar, but not down it, where Boris had been pretending to be busy. No, he simply walked to the edge of the bar and waited. And when that didn’t seem to be enough, he knocked on the bar; the sound of metal against wood rang heavy and hollow. All could hear it. A brief pause again, everyone had silenced and stopped, but then in the next moment, it started again. Best to ignore them, perhaps they thought.

Boris came up to the knight of the purifying pyre, and the two talked. What about? If only this crowd would silence itself. Throughout the conversation, Boris nodded a few times, and then the knight nodded and walked away, toward our table. To this the inn did silence itself again, this time permanently, as if asking, what the hell do you want?

The knight took out from a pouch strapped to his side a scroll, unfurled it, and read it aloud, his voice was gruff, calm, and practiced, as if he done it this task many times, “By decree of the order of the Purifying Pyre, I, Eustace Avener pronounce that the child known as Margaret Abernathy is, by right of the seventh law, to be taken into our custody and summarily executed.”

A silence infested the place, awaiting, no, demanding a response.

And one was had, by Serena, she shot up from her chair and shouted, “What!? By what right? What did she do?”

“Are you truly unaware, Madam? Haven’t you seen the papers posted around the city’s notice boards? I suppose our order hasn’t fully spread around these parts. The wizardry or witchcraft of necromancy, of desecrating the dead and bringing them back in some ungodly form of half-life and half-death.”

“You’re lying! Margaret would never do that!”

“Oh, I assure you I’m not, and that she has. Many eyewitnesses from her little village identified her, and many more did so in the town she traveled to after that.” Margaret gasped. “Yes, did you think we wouldn’t be able to find you after you killed all five of the men we sent? They were good men too.” All eyes shifted from Eustace to the girl, different eyes this time, ones filled with fear and doubt instead of the prior wariness pointed at the man in of the Purifying Pyre.

But Serena did not relent. “She wouldn’t hurt a fly!”

“No, I suppose she wouldn’t, or couldn’t.” He then strolled down to where I sat, and knocked on my shoulder with the knuckle of his index finger. “But with this fellow, oh I’m sure she could do something, in fact I know she could, for she already has. I saw the aftermath with my own eyes.” He looked off, as if thinking to himself, “It foolish of me to send those men, but no news of any actual summoning was given, no, the townsfolk only told of that man’s mad research on vermin. I never thought I was sending them to their deaths.” Then he looked back, “And since this fellow is still around, that must mean this little miss is the culprit." Serena slumped back into her chair. "And I’m afraid our order is lacking in any mercy for practitioners of the dark arts, no matter the age.” He looked down, at Margaret, and smiled. The bastard actually smiled. “You’re all alone. Now come peacefully.” The knight motioned for her.

No one said a thing, no, not even Serena, she didn’t even turn to look at Margaret, she simply kept on staring forward in shock. Even with Margaret looking at her with pleading eyes. I could only imagine what she was thinking, what they were all thinking. They were likely recalling my odd behavior; how I always followed Margaret, almost automatically, how they never saw me eat or sleep, and how convenient Margaret’s backstory for me was. How did they feel? Did they feel that they were betrayed, being manipulated and lied to? Did they feel like fools? Were they angry at her?

This was likely what Margaret was thinking too. She probably felt ashamed for lying to them, and crushed about losing her new friends, not at all surprised that none would support her after finding out what she was, resigned to her fate.

If this continues on, if I do nothing, no one will do anything and they’ll take her.

I heard a whisper in the back of my mind, save her, you must save her. I know that already, damn it!

Fighting them will do no good. They’ll simply see me as a mindless monster, and see Margaret as the same. I can’t let that happen.

There must be something else I can do!

Margaret stood from her chair.

No! You can't do this! It can't end like this! No! No! “No!” My voice was coarse and quiet, as if from overuse, or lack thereof. “She’s not alone.” As I spoke more, my voice started to sound as it did when I was alive. It was a voice that carried across a room, even when I didn’t intend for it to. “I will always be with her.” I stood, lifted my arms, unbuckled the harnesses of my helmet, and removed it. “I am a monster. I am undead. I am all of the things he accuses me of. But she is not. She only summoned me back from the dead because she was afraid, because your men had set her village ablaze. Because your men had killed her father in cold blood. And god knows how many more. And not even for the act of actual necromancy, for simple research of it! I killed those men, not her, I chose to do it! She only told me to save her father! I decided that the only way to keep her safe was to kill your men. And even after all that horror, she still chose to help people in need instead of scorning them. She is kind and strong! There is no one else I would rather have the privilege of serving!”

The old knight took a few faltering step backwards, his body shook, but then an idea sparked in him and he regained his composure, and said pointing an accusatory finger at me with an outstretched hand, “You’re just under her spell! You are compelled to say this because of it!”

“Yes, I admit it."

"Ha!" He smiled and laughed.

"I am under her spell. I was brought back from the dead, compelled to always protect her, and made to obey her every command. But so what? That does not mean I cannot agree to it. That does not mean I cannot also wish to always protect her!”

He fumbled back again. He was losing it, speaking without any of the calm he had earlier, and swinging his accusing arm wildly, “Why!? Why would you want that!? She is a necromancer! She disturbed your eternal slumber, the natural coarse of things!”

He really didn’t understand. I had forgotten that such men existed in the world. “I need no reason to protect a child.” I secured my helmet back over my head, and drew my sword.

“Well said!” shouted Durham who had unsheathed his blade.

Serena had a look on her face, as if saying that's right. She turned to Margaret and said, “I’m sorry for not believing in you,” and turned to me, “both of you.” and she too pulled free her dagger from its scabbard.

All else followed suit; everyone who had a weapon on hand drew it, not just Perrin, Soren, and the bandits, even other’s who had never met us before did too.

The eight knights of the order who were by the door were now behind Eustace. He fumbled on his helmet and drew his sword. His men followed suit. He shouted petulantly, “The Order will not stand for the sheltering of a fugitive! You are all making yourselves enemies! And the Order shows no mercy to those deemed enemies!”

“And the Merchant's Guild!” shouted Dietrich. “You are making yourselves enemies of us as well!”

“And the Yellow Tails!” shouted Durham.

“And the Adventurer’s Guild!” shouted Serena.

All shouted, “Aye!” in approval.

All stood still. The tavern patrons held their weapons up. And the knights did the same.

“If she does not come with us willingly then we will have to use force.” said Eustace.

“That’s kind of the idea, asshole. Bring it.” said Soren.

Well said.

“Impudent little!” muttered the old knight.

Eustace charged forward, along with his other knights. And I charged forward, along with everyone else.

And the two sides collided. Metal clanged against metal in a cacophony of death accompanied by the maelstrom of battle cries and tossed bodies. My sword matched with the Eustace's. We pushed against each other, trying to gain the advantageous footing, but we did not budge. He was strong despite his age, or perhaps because of it. And that’s not all. I thought our side would have easily overtaken theirs. But it hadn’t. They were being pushed back. Our numbers were easily twice as theirs. But they had full plate armor, making them practically impervious to most attacks. But that wasn’t all. These men moved differently, with purpose and patience. They did not allow themselves to be surrounded, no, they kept back and swung their blades wide. They were stronger than us.

But suddenly, one of them was crushed. Something had fallen on them. A giant green thing stood slightly larger than a man ought to be able to. At the ends of its extremities were wide, webbed things. And its arm and leg muscles were immense. And its head, it was one of a frog; it was a frog man. And those clothes… It was Grendel! He went on all fours and leaped up from the knight and sprang up to the ceiling in a second’s time. He was bouncing all over the room!

I leaped back from my confrontation with Eustace, turned the angle of my blade, and leaped and slashed back at him. He was able to match the angle and block, but not without the cost of losing his footing and being pushed back. I used this advantage to cleave forward, creating an opening in their line of defense. Now three of the knights surrounded me.

I had first noticed this during my first battle, and then fully realized it in my fray with the bear. I need not hold back, I need not fear, for I am already dead. When we fight, its a dance of offense and defense. One always cares for their vital areas and blocks or attempts to evade direct attacks to them. But I could simply unleash everything, and not stop, not even for breath.

I swung at them madly, without allowing a moment for them to regain their footing. Over and over again, I kept on hammering at them. And they would attack me too. But it would not faze me, no, it wouldn’t even delay me. Like a whirlwind, I tore through them.

And like that, the battle was ours, we were pushing them back.

But we couldn’t kill them, or at least I couldn’t. It would only give credence to their cause; a necromancer’s knight killed more of our men, all necromancers must be killed.

In the end, they lay beaten and bruised, and dragging each other out while screaming slurs and promises of payback.

They were only bruised, but our side suffered more, bones were broken and blood was lost. Some would die, if untreated.

Soren in particular, he had a wide gash across his chest. Serena knelt over him, “You idiot! Why do you always have to rush into things!? Why can’t you ever stay back and think!? Stupid Ren!”

Soren coughed a laugh, causing specks of blood to stain his mouth, his voice was weak, and it took him great effort to focus his eyes, “You haven’t called me Ren since we were kids. And you haven’t cried since they died.”

“Shut up, I’m not crying!” She was, her tears dripped onto his face.

“Gross, you’re getting it all over me.” He comically stuck his tongue out and coughed another laugh.

“Just stay still, we’ll get some help. You’ll be fine.”

“You were always a bad liar, Rena.”

“I’m not lying!” she turned away from him and was about to shout something when a familiar yet different sound played. It was a song, originating from the bandit women Amelia, she was playing the lute and singing. A green mist emanated from around her and surrounded the wounded, causing a green aura to emanate from them. Soren’s wound stopped bleeding, and was closin, but had not completely. So the powers of the old days hadn’t disappeared. That lute, that was the only creation of the jinn’s that stayed. Perhaps it was a present, an admiration of her skill.

Now the the battle was won truly.

I should find Margaret. I took a step forward, and the world spun. I had lurched and fallen on my knee. I tried with my other leg but it would not budge. I knelt sitting on the floor. Margaret rushed up to me with a big smile, “We did it!” I looked down. The tips of my fingers were a bright gold light. Surface particles from it dispersed, floated up, and were disappearing in the air.

“Yes, we did.”

“You can talk! Why didn’t you say anything before?!”

“I don’t fully know why I couldn’t before. But right now, I think the spell is breaking.” I lifted up my hand, showing her. The upper half of my fingers were gone now. It was spreading to my arms. They were becoming light. Perhaps I was taking damage even though I didn’t feel it. Or maybe there was a time limit. Or was it a flat amount of energy, did I use it all up?

Her expression changed immediately. “No! You can’t go! I feel like I just met you!”

I shook my head, “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll always be with you, in your heart, as a memory.”

She shook her head emphatically, “I don’t want that! I want you!” My arms were gone.

“It’s okay. You’ll be okay. You have new protectors now. You have friends.”

“No, no, no, no! I still need you!”

“You will be okay.”

My body was light, and in an instant, it dispersed. All that was left was my helmet. I watched from above, as a ghostly figure. My body was rising. I was returning, back to the life that happened after death. I heard Margaret mutter, as she clutched my helmet to her chest and cried, “Idiot, I still need you.”

I remember now, before I was summoned, brought back through necromancy, I heard a wish: one to be saved. A wish that coincided with mine: to save. I had failed in life. Thank you for allowing me to fulfill my wish in death.