It was a beautiful day. The birds were singing in the trees to either side of the road, and the sky above was blue, with fluffy white clouds.

Unfortunately for Jim the Paladin, the road in question was cutting through the Dark Forest and it led to an undead infested city known as Brexis. Ancient relics of his order had indicated that the once dormant city had awoken, and it was his job to go investigate.

Jim hated the undead. They traveled in swarms and, depending on who was pulling their strings, they had the nasty habit of ambushing adventurers. Plus, they were soulless creatures, lacking any spark or animus of their own.

He had prepared himself mentally for what was to come. The Paladin could feel an intense aura of undeath coming from further down the road, something which signaled intense danger. Jim was very surprised when he turned the corner and saw not a waiting army of skeletons or zombies, but an orderly series of lines and booths. There were even carts parked alongside serving all manner of delicious foods.

The Paladin's jaw dropped and his mouth watered. The smell of grilled meat and the sound of laughter shook him. Surely this must be an illusion, he thought.

The lines were moving quickly as people were directed to numbered booths. Jim wasn't sure what was going on, but it was definitely efficient. Each person left with some papers, a burlap sack, and a smile.

On the surface things seemed pleasant enough. But the all encompassing aura of undeath made Jim wary. He suspected that some foul magic was at work.

A young man in a green and brown tunic approached the Paladin. He was unarmed and wore a pleasant smile. “Howdy! Do ya speak Grunt? It's no problem if you don't. We can talk in Vahnissian Common too.”

“What exactly is going on here?” Jim asked, “Have you bewitched these people?”

The man looked at him with confusion, then comprehension slowly dawned on his face. “Oh! I'm so sorry.” He slapped his forehead as if to punish himself for his stupidity. “Let me guess, you're a paladin of a great and noble order that has been dispatched to investigate a rising evil in the Dark Forest?”

“Um, yes. That is the gist of it.” Jim admitted, bracing himself for any attacks that might come after such a revelation.

Instead of lunging at him or sounding an alarm, the young man shook his head. “I'm so sorry for the confusion. This is actually the line for refugees and people who wish to take up residence here in Brexis. You want the one for adventurers who have come to vanquish an ancient evil.”

The attendant guided the Paladin to another line on the other side of the food carts then departed. These people were much better armed and armored than the peasants Jim had seen waiting in the main queue. He even recognized a few familiar faces.

“Hail!” called out his fellow Paladin from over by the food stalls, “I see that you too have come to defeat the awoken evil of Brexis.”

Crusher was built like a brick house and what he lacked in brains, he made up for in sheer, endless toxic positivity. He was gnawing on a roasted turkey leg and having the time of his life. “The food here is most excellent, my good and noble friend. You must get yourself some of this glorious barbecue and a flagon of rip-it.”

“What's a rip-it?” Jim asked, still waiting for something bad to happen, “And what's going on here?”

The gigantic Paladin handed him a tankard full of some sweet smelling punch and smiled. “It's a wonderfully energizing potion, quite inexpensive and tasty. And as for the rest, I have no idea. But I'm quite sure it will all turn out for the best.”

Jim’s stomach groaned as he looked hungrily at the roasted turkey leg in Crusher’s hand. After a week of trail rations, the smell alone was almost enough to drive him mad.

The Paladin burned some Mana to try and detect any poison that might be hiding in the food. There was still an overwhelming aura of undeath in the area, but no poison. “Are you sure it's safe to eat that?”

“Safe enough, the guy who runs the cart is a god. So, I figure he probably knows what he's about.” Crusher informed him.

Jim did a double take. “Wait. What was that part about a god?”

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***

There were not one, but two gods currently manning the food cart when Jim approached. Through his Divine Sense he could see an aura of Necromancy so thick that it seemed bottomless, and another aura that was much weaker and almost chaotic in nature. Both were unquestionably divine.

The two gods worked the grill and smoker like seasoned professionals. An endless stream of ribs and turkey legs passed from the cart as orders were filled. Happy patrons gobbled down the food, eating their fill of the smoked meat.

“Excuse me!” Jim called out towards the two deities, “But I am from the order of the sacred Jasmine. I'm here about a great undead evil that has awoken.”

Another attendant appeared. “That line is the one behind you,” he said helpfully.

Jim blinked, “Surely you can't be blind to the dark powers in your midst.”

“No, of course not,” the attendant replied, his tone was hushed and respectful, “They pay my salary.”

***

The two paladins walked through the city of Brexis, gawking at the sights like it was some kind of dark amusement park. From the center of the city emerged a black mountain with a road that spiraled all the way to the top. The seamless black walls that surrounded the city were equally spectacular.

The undead wandering around freely put him on edge. The skeletons were walking with packages and crates in their arms. Jim could sense even more of them moving below the streets. For the Paladin, it felt like walking over a frozen lake while dark forms swirled beneath him.

Eventually they found the Adventure Guild. A few of their fellow Paladins there were kind enough to bring Jim up to speed. Yes, the great undead city and home of vile Necromancers had re-awoken. But Brexis was under new management this time, and much better for it.

Francis (the god of Fidelity, Loyalty, Monogamy, and Horses) had defeated Zed the Undead and taken over the city with the help of his followers. Now, Brexis was humming with life and had rejoined the world.

“But what of the ancient evil that threatens all life?” Jim pressed, “The sages of my order could sense it, even from hundreds of kilometers away.”

“Yeah. About that,” the Paladin filling them in shifted awkwardly, “His name is Wilbur and he says he's retired. He grills a mean rack of ribs though, no doubt about it. They don't skimp on the sauce or sides here either.”

“But surely, it must be destroyed. For the sake of the world,” Jim couldn't believe what he was hearing, An ancient evil… content to work as cook?

The Paladin shook his head. “Yeah, we tried that. It didn't end well. Wilbur took their skeletons to replace the undead damaged by the attack.”

Jim winced, “That's horrible. But, at least their souls are in a better place now.”

The Paladin shook his head again, “No. You don't understand. I said he took their skeletons, I never said that he killed them.”

***

Wilbur was pretty happy. He had gone a full day without having to de-bone a Paladin. If his luck kept up, he might even make it an entire forty-eight hours. Francis had forbidden him from executing them without a formal trial. So, removing their skeletons had been the next best thing.

The retired death god opened up the grill to retrieve the marinated chicken breasts he had been cooking. He paused. A dozen had gone in, but now only ten remained. The white haired old man looked around, trying to figure out how such a thing might have happened.

Then he saw it, a pair of feline eyes looking up at him from inside the grill. Lucipur Meowingstar, AKA Mac, had taken up residence amongst the hot coals. The demonic cat reached out from the flames, grabbed another chicken breast, and devoured it.

Wilbur shot his fellow god a look of annoyance. “Francis, it seems your Familiar has taken a liking to my chicken.”

“I mean, can you blame it? That's some damn fine chicken.” replied a two meter tall man with a full beard and an open Hawaiian shirt. Impossible muscles glistened with sweat as he manned his side of the grill.

Corporal Francis Francis Francis the third, formerly of the United States Marine Corps, had been transported to the magical land of Vahnis a few months prior. Some might have thought he was lucky to have already reached godhood. But the fact was, System had intentionally given the Marine enough rope to hang himself.

Not that Francis had done badly since his ascension. He was the official patron deity of Brexis and his High Priestess was scarily competent. Willow was also the love of his life and one of his favorite people. The tattoo on his wrist showed the proof of their bond. It pulsed gently in sync with his partner’s heartbeat.

Wilbur huffed and puffed about his stolen chicken. It seemed a petty thing to argue about. Once upon a time, the death god had ended entire universes. Now, he wasn't allowed to end anyone.

Mac was under similar restrictions. The demonic cat had made the mistake of underestimating Francis not once, but twice. It served as his Familiar, when the demon wasn't too busy being a menace.

As a fourth piece of chicken disappeared, Wilbur lost his patience and reached out to grab Mac with his tongs. The demonic tabby hissed, but didn't resist too much. Unfortunately, that was the exact moment when Jim the Paladin decided to pay him a visit.

“I say! Are you cooking that poor feline alive?” asked the Paladin.

Wilbur froze, Mac still dangling from the tongs in his hand. “It's not what it looks like.”