Brass hinges creaked as a yet another pair of thick oak doors opened and Iphis and her group were let inside. This must’ve been the third one in a row, forcing the undead under the mask to wonder whether humans somehow preferred oak or if it was in some way better. Whatever the answer was, the thought process was broken when he saw their leader at the end of the grand hall.

A fat and bloated old human, probably fed to that state by the hardship of his people, sat on the glistening chair, stirring whatever liquid was inside the metallic cup.

The undead could not judge him for the violation of power. It was given to him by birthright, or so said the books he had read, and a power given must be used. Humans being greedy as they were, it made sense that he would do at least this much, though he was no match for the undead’s vision.

If it was him, he’d use the status to squeeze everything and anything out of the humans, and, when they were empty of anything to give, reap their lives as well. While gold and silver was meager in the undead’s eyes, the living fought and betrayed for it, making it a valuable mean of use.

Although it made no sense for the undead why humans were stuck on the prospect of a better life after death, and even worked their hardest in life so that they could somehow increase the chance of getting there, he commended them for the idea. He would be the one to grant it – the second chance – to these miserable creatures. What glorious future awaits them!

This was mainly why he bothered keeping the succubus alive. Having seen her unique power of manipulating the human mind, the ideas of her utilization came like never before. With her help living puppets could be created and stationed throughout the world, bringing him knowledge and the movements of the living.

Naturally, could he create intelligent undead he’d chose those instead, but he was yet to find a way. Maybe he was an exception? Even the already-miracle ghoul barely had any intelligence and was basically as dumb as an animal. Still, progress was made, although some luck was included, to escape the stagnation of no intelligence.

They approached the Duke and the ‘candle-man’ kneeled. Quite the tough nut to crack he was. Honestly, why didn’t he break at the impact like others? Magus was sure it was to do with that sword of his, probably one of those enchanted items he thought so much about. Runes, or some kind of other etchings were on it. At the time they came to life and produced something which reacted to heat. This was only a theory of the undead though, but it was only a matter of time before the answer will be in his grasp.

After Maeloc, Iphis also kneeled, therefore Magus did as well. It was her act and he didn’t want to ruin it. There was this art-like feeling when fooling humans. Not just anyone could do it and the undead knew it firsthand. Though humans were at times quite stupid and unsuspecting, he expected for their leader to at least have some brain. He did try to kill them beforehand, which was not a move a complete idiot would do.

“Welcome, miss Margareth.” He spoke, sipping from the silver goblet. “It’d seem my men troubled you.”

That sounded like a joke, making Magus consider laughing; it was how humans showed their appreciation for it. But before he could reach a decision Iphis spoke.

“How cold of you, father.”

The bloated blob of a human sighed and sipped more of the drink.

“Quite the farce you’re trying to pull, knave. I half expected for you to stop and know your place after all of that.” He glanced at Maeloc, probably trying to distinguish whether it was his subject or not. “But it’d seem I’ve underestimated you as much as you did me.”

He snapped his fingers and the soldier in the black armor pulled a shining sword out of the sheath. Runes covered all of its surface as light began to bend around it.

Rene jumped to Iphis’ side while the axe-wielding zombie knight stood in front of Magus, who readied for a yet another battle and ordered his leftover guard to make its way here.

“Damned humans never know when to stop…” He muttered and was about to roast the fools, but Maeloc squirmed and stood up.

“Stop, my Liege!” He screamed at the top of his lungs. “That man is a mage!”

Hearing those words, the black knight stopped and looked at his master.

Again, the fools sprung a trap on themselves. Why did they care so much about these mages? The undead figured his servants won’t be needed for now, but still ordered the last one to get closer just in case.

“Hmm. It is as you say…” The Duke said, looking at the remnants of a flame disperse behind Magus’ back. “Which order do you come from, mage?”

Order… order… Ah! The undead suddenly remembered as images of the past him resurfaced. They were vague, mostly showing dark and thin corridors deep under the surface. The markings of fire flashed repeatedly in his non-existent amygdala. It only made sense to call it… Inferno. Order of the Inferno…?

“Inferno.”

“Dear God…” Shuddered the Duke at the voice, only afterwards grasping what the mage said. “Wait. The order of Inferno?” This seemed to have caught him by a surprise. Was it that rare? “Prove it to me, mage.”

The undead pushed aside the black cloak and uncovered his vivid red robe. The blazing flame of inferno glittered in the fabric. He covered it because it was too memorable, though it’d seem maybe that was a mistake, seeing that it carried a useful status of its own.

“It seems you’re not all empty words.” Glanced the tired old man at Iphis, then at Rene. “Greetings, my loyal knight.”

He stayed quiet, probably seeing illusions or some other nonsense Iphis threw at his exhausted mind.

“Father!” Stepped forwards Iphis as she clutched onto her chest in full act. “Please, listen to me! Just like in the letter I sent you, I am Margareth, your daughter! My mother, Esther, do you remember her?!”

Naturally, the name should’ve came back to the old man’s mind. Magus made sure to question the charmed knight for anything connected with the Duke. Esther was a person that came up quite a few times. She was a servant of the castle, but suddenly disappeared a couple decades ago. The rumor that the Duke had a forbidden relationship with her quickly spread. Whether it was true or not didn’t matter, this was just a way to get somewhat closer to the Duke so that Iphis could enthrall him.

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“I, I’ve no idea who you’re talking about.”

He looked distressed, but it’d seem that the old bastard wasn’t keen on giving in. Initially, the undead wanted for the succubus to deal with it in case of such a response, but now he had a better route…

“Stop acting. I am here with the Order’s request to aid her as her right hand. She deserves recognition of being of your blood and certain reparations for all the years you’ve neglected her.”

“Order’s request? Since when did they start interfering with the outside world…?”

Perhaps this was not the way…

“You sit in your guilds, locked away together with your secrets, and even dare tell me how to rule my realm?!” The Duke stood up, fuming.

“That’s… what the Order told me to do. I care not about your earthly concerns.”

The Duke sat back down, angrily.

“Leave. Leave at this instant!” He beat the ivory arm of his throne and then glared at Iphis. “You’re my precious daughter, right? Then let’s chat. Julius, take our guest for a walk.”

The black knight bowed and approached Magus after he sheathed the shining blade. Should he leave her alone with the ruler? That was the plan, but…

“It’s fine.” She whispered.

“If you say so.”

***

The keep was big. Corridors, thin and wide, sprawled everywhere; some walls even had pathways of their own as Magus felt the living crawling about inside. Loud music and cheering from below at times penetrated these walls, or perhaps there were hidden paths for the sound to come.

All of it made the undead wonder how it worked. The light, the sound, even the mind followed the unwritten rules set by something or someone. So many secrets the world had, he couldn’t help but cherish it. If only the living didn’t exist, he could have it all for himself. Like a book, he would read, understand and fall in love with it.

The undead was not the only one traversing these halls. The black knight, Julius, accompanied him, following like a lost dog, sometimes directing the way they went or trying to spark a conversation with the shambling puppet. The zombie never answered. It couldn’t after all, even its mouth was sewn together, otherwise the growls would give its nature away.

Going through these hallways with no goal made the undead think that it was not much of a walk, but a chaotic wander and a waste of time. Maybe they wanted for him to get lost in these corridors of black and grey? Their effort was pointless though, as he already memorized the way back.

Figuring that there was no point in listening to the black knight ramble on about the castle and where they should go, he started to walk on his own and ignored the man’s words. Doing so probably pissed the human off, but the undead cared not. Why should it? In fact, it made it even more curious as to why it should not go somewhere.

Due to this, he crossed many guard rooms, more than few servants and even a chapel where some kind of ritual was taking place. Magus only took a glance at it before losing interest though. It was all candles and praying after all, something only the living liked and lived for.

He checked his watch multiple times, seeing the minutes pass in but moments. When the first hour of this wander came, he reached a certain place of the castle. This time the black knight went out of his way to redirect the undead, trying to tempt it with the promise of a large library, but it only made it ever more so curious as to why that would be the case. What could the living be hiding?

Ignoring him, he continued to walk the narrowing corridor until he exited outside into some sort of large garden. From the living presences he felt that it was probably the outer-most part of the castle.

There were various trees, fountains, winding pathways and fields of flowers changing from red to blue in but a few steps, turning into some kind of rainbow as it ignored the seasonal harshness. Though perhaps it was not the flowers but the garden which was weird. Snow piled above, in the sky, as if stuck in space and unable to fall any further below, melting over time, only to get replaced by an another batch of white.

Fueling this oddness, further away, in a gazebo, sat a small child which felt unusually… living. It was as if there were ten or twenty people inside that small body.

“We’re turning back.” The black knight grabbed Magus’ shoulder, to which the zombie puppet shuddered in delight. The condition was met and it was finally allowed to slaughter, but before it could Magus hurried to stop it. This was a bad time to shed blood, especially when everything was going so well.

“Why?”

“Because we are.” He strengthened his grip and pulled.

“Why?” Magus shook the arm off. “Aren’t I a guest? Aren’t we having a walk?” His arms spread to the sides, as if showering in the sunlight which did not exist. “A garden sounds like a perfect place for a walk.”

Julius frowned, unable to say anything back. He couldn’t forbid a special guest, especially a mage, from visiting the garden. This was where nobles were usually led anyways.

Magus read his boring expression, and, satisfied, paced down the stairs and into the garden. Quickly he reached the gazebo where the child sat and took seat in front of her. Julius followed closely, bowing more than few times to the child in apology.

The girl obviously saw them coming and stopped her reading. When Magus sat down she waited for a greeting, but the undead stayed silent. From his experience, letting humans speak first was often favorable to him.

“Umm, mister? Hello?”

He continued the silence, too focused on her presence. She indeed was too… alive.

“I apologize, Lady.” Bowed Julius. “This here is… A guest.”

“A guest? Why didn’t father inform me?”

As the daughter of the Duke she was obligated to greet nobles. The robed man being in this garden meant none other than him being exactly that or an otherwise important person.

“We-” Julius was cut off as Magus suddenly stood up, pushing the chair back with a loud screech.

“Greetings, Lady Lucy. I am Magus.” He extended his gloved arm while a non-existent grin formed under the mask.

He couldn’t help but snicker in his mind at this luck. She was the Duke’s daughter, the one with some kind of gift from god. How did her healing power work? Was it the reason for her unusual livingness? Does it work on undead? So many questions, so little time…

“Welcome.” She didn’t take the hand, but stood up and bowed with a graceful flow. Holding onto the long skirt with the tip of her fingers, she showed off the outfit that was specially prepared for her. “I must say, what a unique name you have. But how did you know mine?”

“Who wouldn’t? You’re the Duke’s daughter after all.” He laughed, realizing how stupid and close to giving it all away he was. Thankfully, humans were quite dumb when it came to it and trusted others too easily.

“I see.” She thought for a moment before picking up the silver book she was reading up until now. “I don’t want to trouble you, Sir Magus, and beg you farewell.”

Before she could even bow the masked man pointed at her book.

“What is that?”

This was surprising for the little girl, as it was unusual that someone did not know the worth of the object in her hands. Even a commoner probably has heard of such an item.

“This is the grimoire my father gifted me. Since there are no available mages to teach me I have to make do with this.”

“How convenient, for you and me.” A flame formed on his fingertip. “An available mage is right in front of you.”

“Alright, that’s enough,” said the black knight. He was not about to let some stranger get involved with his liege’s kin. “Lady Lucy, please return to your room. Your tutor has been waiting for you since morning.”

“Bu-”

“No buts. I’ll look after our guest. Don’t you worry about that.”

The knight was so vexing the undead was tempted to end his miserable life at this second, but…

“How boring,” he said and snapped his fingers as a flame began to dance on his shoulder. Children liked flashy and simple stuff, right? “If you’re ever interested, Lady Lucy, the invitation is still open. I feel like I might end up staying here for a while.”

She only bowed with a smile and ran off, making the undead wonder if what he said fit the situation. He copied the tone and words of a human called Hero from the fairy tale he read at some point, though the context of that book differed from reality. In it humanity was actually strong and fought together against an evil demonic dragon. How surreal.

“I guess you can show me to that library now,” he said with a dry sigh as he looked at his watch.

Humans sure talked long.