“The life of a peasant can either be reasonably pleasant, or horrifyingly torturous, entirely dependant on where they live. One example I like to cite on this matter is the Lichdom of Ptolodecca, where, despite the various rumors their neighbors often propagated, was strongly of the former sort.

After all, for many people out there, concepts like freedom or privacy might as well be hot air, as they would not put food to the table. The residents of the lichdom had simply happily submitted to the constant observation and surveillance, in exchange for peace and prosperity. In fact, most nearby nations spread bad propaganda about the lichdom partly out of fear that their citizens would migrate to greener pastures.

On the other hand, life as a peasant in a land that outwardly claimed to be good and just could well be a hellhole. Most peasants do not even own the lands they worked, as those belonged to their landlords, who took most of the profits from their harvests and left the peasants with a pittance to live on.

Add the frequent bandit activity because of the poor civil order, and the regular visits of knights led by nobles who were in reality little more than bandits in fancy clothes, with the mandate to take whatever they wished for, and you can easily see why many would say to hell with that in favor of a peaceful, abundant life under an immortal necromancer.

Most people simply wouldn’t care if their lord was a Lich as long as they keep taxes low and the carriages running on time.” - From a Socioeconomy lecture by Garth Wainwrought, Dean of the Levain Institute of Higher Learning, circa 689 FP.

“So, what’s your name?” Aideen asked after the woman replied with a thoughtful, yet nervous nod to her previous question.

On closer look, the woman looked young, likely in her early twenties at most, with her tanned skin rendered sallow and rather pale after the mistreatment she suffered at the hands of the bandits. Her wavy brown hair was a mess that almost looked like a bird’s nest, although it was no longer as filthy as it had been when Aideen rescued her.

“Celia. Celia of Azulise,” said the woman as she met Aideen’s eyes with her own brown orbs. Her look still betrayed a measure of nervousness, but the woman had clearly recollected herself enough to move on somewhat from the previous fugue she had been stuck on.

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The name she gave was common for peasants of the region, since last names were a thing only used amongst nobles and the rich. Just a single name, usually affixed with their place of birth. Aideen thought of the map of the region she had mostly memorized and realized that the woman likely came from a small village further down the road from where the bandit ambush was.

“And if I may ask… what misfortune brought you to your… predicament before?” Aideen queried, as she took care to select her words carefully. She had no desire to make the woman recall the painful and humiliating memories she received at the hands of those scum, but on the other hand, the sooner Celue could get past those indignities, the better.

At the moment, that she was well enough to converse merely half a day after she was rescued was already a surprise to Aideen. She had seen others remain catatonic for far longer, often requiring weeks if not months of care before they managed to return to a semblance of their former selves. That Celia recovered somewhat so soon was an optimistic thing.

“Me and grandpa was just on… our way back from selling our harvest to the city, and he took me down south since his merchant friend was visiting,” narrated the girl with obvious pain and sadness in her voice. Aideen had not asked what happened to her grandfather, but she could guess all too well. “Those… bandits waylaid us on our way back home.”

“They killed grandpa when he tried to resist to let me escape… and took me to their camp where you found me… there they…” said Celia after she took a moment to regather her voice as she told Aideen of the grievances that laid on her heart. “Everything was pretty much a blur since. I can’t even tell how long they kept me in that hut, I could even swear I thought I died at one time… Only to wake up again and realize that even that was just a dream that did not come true.”

Aideen kept silent for the time being. Death and rising into a new life as an Unliving was not something everyone could accept calmly, and she thought she would wait until later to break the news to Celia rather than do it too soon. Instead, she simply kept an ear open as she listened to the girl’s tale of grievances.

“Maybe I’m cursed or something,” said Celia with a sigh as she looked up, full of regret. “My parents too were killed by bandits, though at the time they managed to hide me. Grandpa had taken care of me since, but now he’s gone as well… I don’t know what I would even do if I returned to my village.”

“The land we worked on was not even ours. You said it’s winter now, Miss?” asked Celia, to which Aideen nodded in affirmation. “We’ve been gone for months from the village then. Someone else must have taken over the land. Nobody in the village would take in a stained, unmarried woman like me. There’s not even anything left out of the money grandpa sold the harvest we had for…”

Celia then sobbed once again into her hands. Aideen let her be, other than rubbing her back sympathetically. She allowed Celia to cry her grievances out, until the girl finally fell asleep, her eyes still wet with tears and her clothes half-soaked through with them.

Gently, so as not to disturb the sleeping Celia, Aideen laid her down on a bedroll, and covered her up with a warm blanket. She knew Unliving like them would not face any ill effects even from the cold of winter, but as Celia was likely only risen recently, she was unlikely to be aware of it.

As she watched the light snowfall drift before her eyes, Aideen wondered what she should do with the sleeping girl, who was now one of her brethren in unlife as well.