“Please, have mercy, at least spar the children.” Begged a crying voice.

The room was small, most of the space occupied by a single table. It was set, the food served, however the men around the table weren’t eating. Two had collapsed on their plate, and the last one was sprawled on the ground, all dead.

A man was standing over a crying woman, protecting two kids behind her back. He put a knee on the ground to look her calmly in the eyes, then let out two emotionless word. “Would you?”

The cries of the two kids behind her hadn’t completely covered his voice, but the question was so unexpected she wasn’t sure she heard him properly. “What?”

“I asked, if the situation was reversed, would you give mercy?” His voice cracked this time, betraying the rage hidden behind his impassible facade.

“Yes!” She cried. “I’m a woman and a mother, I never agreed to their vile schemes in the first place, I only obeyed them out of fear for my children.”

The young man silently looked over her shoulder. His mask dropped, revealing the hatred he had internalized up to now. “It takes some gall to lie in the face of your victims, you accursed murderous whore.” The emotionless came back as fast as it had dropped, disinterestedly he order. “Devour her.”

Knowing she was about to die like the rest of her family, the woman dropped the act. “Monster, if only your kind didn’t exist, we’d...”

He screamed “Stop.” To something in the air, before turning his attention to the woman one last time. “You’re deluded, bitch. Your kind is the disease, and I’m the cure.” He ignored the woman screams and invectives, to listen to something else. “Yes, you can eat her now. Everyone in the village was her accomplice, you can kill them too, but no eating them, and no damaging the bodies, okays.”

The screams and cries soon ended, and four shadowy figures appeared by his side, two smalls, and two larges. For the first time, his face showed an emotion other than rage. “I know mom, but they were all complicit to their murders. They could have stopped them if they wanted. None of their victims had the death element you know.”

He listened to something else before answering. “Yes dad, with these corpses we’ll be pushing over seven hundred, just a little more and we’ll be…” Around him, and all over the village, the people got up, shambling towards the same goal, and he stopped mid-phrase to speak to the two small figures. “Arc, Lydia, what did I tell you? I know you want to be friend with the children, but let them pass on.”

Answering his will; two of his new familiars left the bodies to look for some others, but the two ghostly children did nothing, or rather they couldn’t since their master had yet to give them orders.

The one-sided conversation continued for a long time, with the young man filling the blank until hunger stopped him. He searched in the kitchen for fresh food, discarded the previous accessories for new one he was sure weren’t poisoned and got busy.

“What do you want to eat, he asked his two siblings? Eh, meat with potatoes? I’ve seen some ham and jerky, but it isn’t the kind or place where you’d find steak you know?” The tone was kind, but inflexible, he had to, or they’d walk all over him. “Sit, here’s some bread and cheese if you can’t wait.”

The four figures weren’t tangible enough to sit, however, as it was their master order, they did their best to look like it. Twenty minute later, he put down plates with large serving of boiled potatoes, and slices of ham in front of each of them and himself while warning. “Be careful, it’s hot… Tch, Arc, what did I just told you?”

No need the say; the small spirit hadn’t moved an inch, there wasn’t much he could do without a direct order.

Once the young man had finished his meal, he told the family. “Arc, Lydia, brush your teeth then go to bed. Mom, dad, I need to talk to you about our plans: I’m thinking about attacking a small keep not far from here to steal their equipment. Undead are stronger than normal people, but without armors, they’re easy to immobilize.”

“…”

“Yes, I’m going to recall a few of them, with enough clothes we could make some makeshift gambeson. Good thinking mom.”

“…”

“It’s not competition dad, but that’s true that in an undead hand, a pitchfork or a wood axe are as good as any weapon.”

“…”

“Come on, dad. Where am I going to find a pickax around these parts?”

“…”

He Laughed and laughed, then finally answered the non-existing question. “No mom, spades aren’t the same.”

“…”

“I know dad.” His tone was serious again. “Dealing with mages is going to be a pain, but if we can kill a few then we’ll have nothing to fear.”

“…”

“Remember the wights? Yes? I’m thinking about doing the same thing, but I won’t do the same mistake: I’ll unite the whole world under me, and damn anyone who dare resist.”