“No,” he said firmly, demolishing her frantic face in an instant.

There was no point in helping humans. Sure, greenskins were something he was interested in researching, but now was not the time. There are simply other priorities to be taken care of.

“Why?! Can’t you see the horror of those beasts?!”

“Horror…?” Magus looked at the soon-to-be-three corpses in the cart. The undead saw no horror, only waste. Not even of life, as humans thought, but the sheer uselessness of the leftovers.

Their mouths were agape, eyes dim with death and legs flat like a poor steak. The living one was in no better shape, the only sign of life being the feeble movement of the chest. Holy energy, the divine power gifted by the gods themselves, did nothing for his legs. The flesh melted around the bone, turning them into nothing but useless growths that could not be moved.

How was such a scarring power called holy? They weren’t even worth raising. Alas, what’s the point of an unmoving zombie? He could not voice his inner thoughts of course. The living simply would not understand. They already were committed to their own ideals and reached the conclusion they wanted to reach.

The undead investigated their faces. Some frowned, a few even felt sad as they recognized the cart’s passengers, others looked away or had the same face as the little girl. A bloodied, furious and on the verge of tears.

She stared at Magus intently, almost as if depending on the answer he might become the victim of her all-inclusive fury. Does she expect approval? He was not so low as to hide the truth and appease some human child just to keep up a favorable act.

“I see no horror, only three dead men.” At his words, the onlookers came back from their petrified states, looking at him in disgust, speechlessness and clear terror. Was it his voice or the sheer bluntness that brought them back to reality? “Humans die every day and get replaced just as fast. Only the current circumstance and your own inconvenience brought this feeling of vengeance – which is meaningless I must say. They won’t come back to life…” The undead continued voicing his thoughts, or at least the filtered leftovers of what he thought he could say.

With every word spoken, the girl squirmed, on the verge of saying something, as she desperately held back her tears. What the undead said was true, she knew it, but it was a logic of white and black. There are grey spots, even color, in the world. But even if she knew that, how can she retaliate?

Her pale skin turned whiter and whiter as the fierce wind of the winter picked up. Marks of crimson blood trickled sideways as it mixed with the sandy powder covering her cheeks, leaving a trail of reddened skin. Serene drops seeped through the underbelly of the cart, sinking into the crude cobble and feeding the earth underneath.

Being attacked one-sidedly by the mage’s logic, she found no gap to interfere. Time was precious and there was none for philosophical debate. She steeled herself, convinced that he will be of no help, but then, as Magus rambled on, he himself oblivious to it, his logic slipped her a chance.

“. . . there is no reason for me to help your cause. Th-”

She jumped in delight within her mind as the words slipped out of her mouth, cutting him off.

“Then, if there’s reason – you’ll help?”

“And what could that be?” Chuckled the masked man, as if what he heard was dubious to the core.

***

Birds chirped, horses neighed, the wagon rattled. People marched, twenty in total, on the chilling surface of winter. They heaved and panted at the labor of walking, metal which sheltered their weak flesh chiming in as well with a clatter of their own.

Only three of them did not seem bothered by the long walk. One a knight, mysterious and silent throughout the whole journey, and second his master, no different in manner, – a mage atop a horse. The last one who did not toil like the rest was a dashing young man with brown hair, also on top of a horse. His plate armor shone under the wintry sun, unmarked and fresh, as if just off the hands of a smith. Like a dead man, a pig-faced helmet loosely swayed on his back.

The mage looked at the vast expanse of white and the sharp trees poking out of the ground here and there as he clutched tightly on the reins. Steering a living one was a first for him. Constantly bothering about his position inside the saddle and keeping the legs in the stirrups, not to mention the restraining feeling of being strapped to the creature even if he wasn’t, was mentally exhausting. Or would be, had the undeath not blessed him. Nonetheless, the sight of nothingness for hours and hours was boring beyond imagination. In the carriage he could read or look into his notes, stop anywhere of interest, and, as a last resort, the succubus – a walking incarnation of entertainment itself – could do something to lift the non-existent mood of the undead man. Her trying to read him was by far the most amusing.

Having left the main road yesterday, the humans advanced through the bare forest for a few more kilometers and set camp before nightfall. After resting through the night they continued the intense march first light in the morning. Although a bunch of time went to waste, this journey was rather informative, as the undead found out that humans strongly relied on supplies and rest when travelling.

The wagon behind him, it’s wheel squeaked every full cycle, carried what was supposed to be enough for a whole week. It was filled to the brim as they were only out for almost a day – and this was just for twenty people. He and the puppet didn’t eat, which was awkward to explain to the dumb humans, especially when he couldn’t just say he was a walking pile of bones. Blabbering something about religion seemed to shut them up though as they were quite pious considering they slaughtered as an occupation.

Magus did not intend to help them at first. After all, it would be equivalent to stacking rocks and toppling them afterwards. Besides, the living getting massacred was the least of his concerns. It even helped him in a way. Although the three dead farmers, the one who struggled the most slit his throat before their departure, were like a drop in an ocean compared to what still remained, every single one counted towards the glorious day when the sun will rise over the land of no living.

The reason he went against all of this and was here could be described by a single word – multitasking.

The little girl, digging her own grave as all humans tend to do, offered something he could not refuse. A reason. An excuse that would make him come along. This very moment, her words still lingered in his mind – anything of mine.

He could not ask for everything, that would be stupid and suspicious, but in a sense he managed to do so. Her brother – the man on the horse – was part of the deal. Of course, he didn’t specifically ask for him. The undead only mentioned that a lord should look after their people and clean the mess themselves, and the girl, already drunk on her dumb ideals and childish sense of responsibility, fell for it completely and basically begged for the human to come.

Perhaps idiocy was in their blood, as he agreed quite easily and even prepared the supplies and men, two of which were even knights, unsurprisingly belonging to the private group that loved to stick to him so closely.

The true part of the deal was vague, for the girl at least, so that she couldn’t grasp the danger of it. He asked her to give support to Iphis, Margareth as the humans knew her, and she agreed to this immediately.

Magus couldn’t tell why she was so eager to avenge three dead men, but so be it. Making sense of the living was a baffling task to begin with. He figured the girl was too stupid to comprehend his means in the first place, but what mattered was that the deal got sealed. There were even witnesses whom will last until everything’s finished.

With the succubus at the castle, humans busy with other things and his mind finally free of worries, the undead relaxed. The world swirled around him, it’s presence deeper than what even eyes could reveal. He could feel the living, both humans and animals, surrounding him. In the air, mana pulsed with a mind of its own, and the blessed connection of undeath hugged him from behind.

From the knight to his side, to the one in Froset and even the swarm of his puppets in the faraway east. The connections entwined, span and established a net of… kin. Was this called family? He knew it was not quite the same, but the warm feeling of familiarity was undoubtedly better and calming to the point he felt like savoring it for an eternity.

Unbeknownst to this inner peace, the small caravan continued going through the wasteland of winter. A spearman who towed the three bodies apparently lived in the village where the attack happened and volunteered to act as their guide. Though, whenever the greenskins were mentioned he’d freeze up, stopping everyone in place, and after 20 seconds or so would continue walking as if the question was never uttered. This seemed to entertain Levi, the Duke’s son, at first, but after a few times of it happening it turned to anger instead.

Such change between happiness and anger was interesting for the undead though. The psyche of humans was intricate and complex, sometimes predictable and at worst not. This variety, depth of their mind, and its numerous weaknesses was worth investigation. He chose to watch them for now, mainly because he had nothing else to do in this wasteland, and write everything to memory.

“Mage,” spoke Levi all of a sudden, bringing the undead back on track as its inhuman mind turned gears towards acting and socializing. “Tell me about yourself.”

“There’s no point,” he answered right away. The Duke’s son was on his way to death and wasting words on him was pointless. “And why should I?”

“Right… I suppose that’s true,” his cheek tensed into a smile. “Then, at least tell my why you brought her.”

He figured the human meant Iphis, but wasn’t entirely sure. If that was the case, why should he spill the beans about his plan? The calculating mind of the dead could not make sense of it and, for the sake of the act, chose to be ignorant.

“By ‘her’ you mean…?”

“Margareth. My ‘sister’. ‘The witch whom tempted a mage’,” he caressed the horse. “Call her what you will. Why did you bring her?”

“I owed her a favor,” said the undead, quickly thinking up a reason.

“A favor, huh. Guess I can’t blame you for that, but – it was a mistake.”

The undead stayed silent, not sure where the conversation was leading to.

“There are many an enemy in that castle, even I must look out for every shadow, but her…? She should’ve stayed wherever she came from. No woman belongs in a court.”

“What about your sister? The little one.”

“Her?” He laughed loudly before ushering his horse closer to Magus. In a whisper he spoke. “She’s not of our blood, the whole castle knows that. Father kept her since the day he found her drowning in the gutters. Had she no gift, she would have been thrown out years ago.”

That sounded like an important secret and he just spilled it. Were all humans such idiots?

“Then why did you listen to her request?”

“Bah, I’m just here to have fun,” he waved his hand as if it was no big deal. “And cutting down a few abominations ought to bring some glory.”

The undead nodded unconsciously. The unquenchable pride was a flaw of the living, something he will never thankfully suffer from. Magus could not wait to save the poor lambs from their cursed fate.

“I see you understand,” Levi nodded with a grin, imagining the tales of his victory resound throughout the realm. “Got to say, can’t wait to see your sorcery. Heard you turned a few men to ash and almost the whole city on the way to the keep. Again, all for a favor. That beauty sure must’ve done something special for your sake.”

“Are you done?”

Levi’s face dropped in response to the crude tone as the metal-covered finger jabbed at the undead’s side.

“Don’t talk to me like that. A fire-crapping mage like you is still a knave, know your place.”

A long pause followed as the undead wondered where he should be standing. Levi on the other hand, laughed out louder than before. The soldiers turned around at the sudden burst, wondering what was so hilarious to make their leader laugh in such a situation.

“That was a joke,” he wiped his eyes. “You’re tough, I’ll give you that. But. . . you should eat more,” he spun his finger in a circle.

A few more hours of marching passed with nothing interesting happening apart from a snow hare being chased by a wolf pack. It was impressive how the little thing managed to run so fast and evade the dogs one after another. Magus contemplated on how even a single opponent, so weak it was hard to believe, could cause that much trouble for a larger, stronger group. He was thankful that humans weren’t capable of such agility, chasing them all day would be troublesome, but what about ‘greenskins’?

“Hey, you,” Magus called out to one of the humans drinking from a leather flask. He did not want to bother with the Duke’s son again. “Tell me about these greenskins.”

Suddenly asked such a question, the man barely held onto the liquid in his mouth. After popping his eyes, he swallowed the drink, grasping on his throat as he spoke.

“The greenskins, sir, are devilish creatures. I’ve never see one, but, although many underestimate them, don’t fall for their trickery! Once I heard of a goblin that slaughtered a whole family in their sleep, mounted their heads above the fireplace and lived in the house for a full week until an adventurer came around!”

“Goblin?”

“Yeah,” he held his hand slightly below his hip. “About this size those devils are. While weak, they’re agile and sneaky, and don’t listen to those who say they’re dumb, because they’re not. Some of them can even speak. Can you imagine?”

“…and they’re green?”

“Aye. Green as the spring’s grass, that’s why they’re so dangerous in the fore-year. Though I’ve heard of black orcs, those are fairy tales I’m pretty sure, or maybe it’s the result of one having its way with a filthy black one,” he spat.

The horse whined and stirred as the human took out a purple fruit and bit into its soft flesh. Wind wearily breezed over the white surface, chilling faces and hands of those unprepared.

Who were these black ones? The undead could not ask as the man continued.

“Anyway,” he munched loudly. “Orcs are by far the most dangerous. I’d rather fight a dozen goblins than one of those giants. The odds would be probably better anyways, be it of survival or my corpse making it back to my family.”

The soldier waved his hands as if to show the sheer height of them, and told of their power and weird palates. Apparently they were strong enough to decapitate horses mid-charge and to throw large boulders at the feeble humans from a distance, whom they ate and considered a delicacy.

With no weaknesses apart the low intellect, they seemed like one of the most dangerous things Magus has ever heard of. Aren’t they way more powerful than humans? If that’s the case, an army of colossuses might become a priority to fight them.

Half an hour passed. Magus no longer listened to the human who began to lose track of the topic and eventually started discussing the need of women, something about nightlife and then pestering him to show a magic trick. Seeing a human jump around by his side, laughing loudly as it tried to make its puppet chuckle, was so annoying and vexing the undead really wished for a stampede of orcs to just run out and finally murder these fools. He had no such luck, but at least something happened.

Far beyond, over a white hill, a long streak of smoke rose to the sky. The guide at the front began to franticly wave his arms at Levi, who was busy chatting with one of the knights.

“Lord, my Lord! We’re here, just over that hill!”

“Good,” he answered, pulling his blade out and rising it towards the sky. “Arm yourselves and let the hunt begin.”

Very few men cheered to this. They knew that this was no hunt, but a battle to the death awaited. Many felt their hearts quicken a beat faster as they realized that some might not come back today. Greenskins were tricky after all, and the fact that they managed to raze a village successfully showed the numbers they will face. A presence of a mage somewhat calmed them, but having never seen magic in their life they didn’t know how much hope they should have.

With the sun at its peak, the caravan marched up the hill. People scrambled around, sipping water and grabbing a snack that might be their last, and armed themselves. Spears and shields were clasped in their hands, four others wielding weird contraptions called crossbows. Knights took upon themselves large steel swords, shields were of no use when one was covered in steel, but, just in case, a few spares of those lied among the sacks of grain.

The donkey pulled the wagon with all its might, screeching in a voice Magus could describe as ‘otherworldly’. It was like a bizarre mix between a pig, horse and a flute. Truly a weird animal, one that likely resulted from a failed human experiment.

When they reached the top, a sight of what used to be a settlement met the human eyes, forcing out an orchestra of grumbles and discourage.

Down below, an empty plain remained with but a few stone groundworks to mark the existence of the village. The grand wall that used to shield its perimeter was reduced to a few wooden stakes and boards here and there, accompanied by other splinters and leftovers of civilization that littered the grass and pathways humans used to cross. A whirlwind of crows circled the sky high above the center of the deformed circle as the smoke trail rose lazily in the far away horizon.

None of the humans seemed to notice the distant mark and made their way down the hill, the donkey shrieking as loudly as before. Entering into the ravaged land, they quickly found out what tempted the evil-looking birds. From a filled well protruded an enormous stake whereupon a mangled corpse was skewered like a piece of mutton over a campfire, going all the way through and out of the mouth. From the looks of it, it belonged to a female, but perhaps it was only Magus who spotted the difference as the most distinct parts were shredded or ripped off, exposing bone, muscle, and organs. Her lungs fluttered like a flag behind her back, supported by sticks and twine. Claws, teeth and other junk were neatly placed around the stake. Weird scribbles carved into the wood alarmed the onlookers with their childishly-horrid imagery of stick-people surrounding a distorted figure similar to that of a burn. A goblin’s way of expression, perhaps. Evident bite marks covered her legs and arms, the largest teeth marking the flappy chest and the crotch. The crows too seemed to have partook in the snack, the bravest one still feasting on the eyeball.

“Dear God,” Levi expressed, doing a weird hand gesture, quickly followed by other humans. “This is beyond savage. What do you think, mage?”

“Perhaps let’s not dwell too much.” They still had to die after all. “And look for tracks.”

“What about the people? We must find the remains and put them to rest,” spoke a knight whom had his helmet on. The metal gauntlet gripped the sword and trembled, presumably not from the weight of the weapon.

“We’ll find them in the nest, the remains that is. While the lady here,” Magus pointed over his shoulder. “Can wait. There’s game to hunt, no?”

Levi laughed, manic veiling his face, and scrambled for his helmet.

“I like the way you talk, mage. Let’s go men!” He shouted and beckoned his horse to hurry up.