The trio (and their newest addition McHorseface) rode out to survey the damage Stompy caused. His rampage through the Dark Forest had cleared a significant portion of the trees between Riverlark and Cassi’s tower. But it also had blocked the old road into Brexis.

Francis didn't fully grasp the scale of the destruction until he looked down the kilometers long trail. Trees a hundred meters tall and five meters in diameter lay toppled on the ground or leaned precariously at odd angles. The titan had shoved the giant old growth redwoods aside like a drunk moving through a corn field.

“Is the forest going to throw a fit if we harvest the fallen timber?” Francis asked Willow as they came to a stop at the edge of the destruction. She was looking splendidly spooky as always in her embroidered black robes.

Willow let her hood down and pulled a black panatella from a red wooden box in her saddle bags. The Death Cleric lit the long thin cigar with a snap of her fingers, filling the air with the scent of spiced tobacco and funerary incense.

She took a few puffs while she gave the question some serious thought. The Dark Forest wasn't one to mess with. “Probably not. I say we grab what we can and set it aside to season. The forest won't be shy about telling us to stop if it isn't happy.”

She dismounted from McHorseface and walked over to a fallen redwood as wide around as she was tall. “Trees this big are rare and quality magical wood is expensive. They'll be worth more if we can keep them intact. I say we let the farmers take the small stuff and focus our attention on the big ones.”

Francis considered his options. It was going to take a lot of manpower to get the job done. Sure, they could use log rollers or whatever other methods the locals had to transport the trees. But what about magic?

“Willow, do you know of any spells that can help us move the wood quickly?”

“Not really. Most people hire trolls or giants when they need heavy lifting done. Some companies use golems. But lifting and transporting something this big would be beyond any mage, even you.” She looked off into the forest.

“What?” Francis asked, he couldn't see anything out of the ordinary.

“There are trolls in the forest. If you killed a few I could reanimate them. I'd feel better knowing we had some muscle around in case someone tries to take Brexis from us.” The Death Cleric nodded to herself. “Yeah, we can hire people to work during the day and have the undead do the heavy lifting at night.”

Relativity thrummed in his hand. It liked this plan. But Francis wasn't completely sold. He still felt like engaging in necromancy was a slippery slope. “Don't people get skittish about necromancy?”

“Yeah, but you would also be leaving the most dangerous work for the undead. There's a reason most of the deep mines use zombies or skeletons for labor. Well, the dwarves don't. But everyone else does.” Willow sighed. Francis could tell this was a bit of a sore subject for her.

“Look, there is responsible necromancy that helps people, and then there is the kind of shit Zed was doing. Most people can't tell the difference, but they look the other way if it benefits them. We aren't going to collapse the local economy with unpaid labor or start killing innocent people to swell our numbers.”

Francis had a few more questions before he was ready to sign off on the plan. He hoped Willow wouldn't be insulted by his lack of understanding. “Excuse my ignorance, but the closest thing we have to raising the dead where I come from is Viagra. These undead, are they aware at all? I mean, are we preventing their souls from finding rest?” He spread his hands helplessly. “I’m not trying to insult you, or what you do. I just want to understand something before I agree to it.”

The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

Willow walked over and patted him on the leg. “It’s fine to have questions, and I'm not insulted. Basically when you die your soul hangs around for a bit then departs. Zombies and skeletons are animated by magic and follow the instructions they are given. But they have no actual self awareness or soul. Let me demonstrate.”

She looked around until she spotted a tree squirrel that had been crushed by the falling branches. The crows had already pecked out its eyes and taken what they wanted.

Willow waved her hand and a wave of green energy washed over the dead animal. It stood up with a series of faint pops and snapping noises, shedding the remainder of its gray fur. Chuck took an involuntary step backwards, bringing Francis with him.

The differences between the living squirrels in the other trees and the skeletal one were telling. It didn't dart back and forth looking for predators. Instead it slowly stalked towards Willow until it came to a stop at her feet. Then it looked up at her with empty eye sockets and cocked its head to the side.

“It moves like a squirrel because it is squirrel shaped and I think that's how it should move.” She explained. “But it doesn't have a will or spirit of its own. There's nothing inside except the magic that powers it.”

“As a death cleric, stopping a willing soul from moving on is expressly forbidden. But I understand how people might assume all necromancy is evil.”

With nothing else to do, the skeletal squirrel sat still on the ground, waiting for instructions. Willow smiled at the little monster. “For me it is more about honoring and making use of a body after the soul departs. The soul is what matters, not the body that temporarily holds it.”

Francis wasn't completely sold on the idea. It seemed unnatural and dangerous. But he trusted Willow and he could follow her logic.

“I suppose that's fine then.” Francis looked down at Chuck. He figured if Chuck had anything to say, he already would have. “Where can I find some trolls?”

Chuck stomped his hoof. “Oh, I can help with that. The beneficial ones usually maintain bridges and structures in exchange for a toll. The ones we want will be on the edges of the forest. They creep out to steal livestock at night.” (And complain about plays.)

“Just leave their heads intact.” Willow cautioned. “They're easier to raise if you do.”

“Yeah, sure thing. Can you handle the human side of things while I go hunting?” Francis asked.

“I'll take care of it. If you don't come back by sunset I'll come make sure you're alright. But you should be fine.” Willow gave him a kiss for good luck.

“Is there some kind of spell I can use to keep in touch?” Francis asked. He figured if the AG could do it he could too.

Relativity gave off feelings of affirmation and helpfulness. It had given him the Telepathy spell for a reason.

“Wait, I think I already have it.” Francis realized. “Now how does this fucker work?”

Most people got a pop up from System when reviewing a spell. But Francis' stubborn resistance to integration had caused a few unforeseen consequences. He wasn't seeing all the information other people did.

His Arcane skill could give him a rundown of how Telepathy worked. But the finer details were missing. It was a bit like trying to remember the cooking instructions for a microwave dinner after throwing the box away. (Or assembling Swedish furniture without an engineering degree.)

The way Francis understood things, he could either establish a link now for 1 MP per minute per person. Or he could reach out later and pay long distance charges.

He linked up with Chuck and Willow and felt the strain on his mana regeneration immediately. It dropped down from 30 MP per minute to 27. Evidently he qualified as a person too.

“Messages can be sent either privately or to the group and you always know who is speaking.” Willow said in his mind. Her black lips weren't moving. But he could see the muscles of her throat tensing and relaxing as she spoke.

“Neat.” Francis replied, trying to get a hang of speaking mentally. “What is the range on this?”

“It’s pretty much infinite as long as we're on the same plane. But strong magic or wards can cause interference. So can caves and some metals like lead.” She gave him another kiss on the cheek and switched back to speaking normally. “Let me know when you find the trolls. We need at least six. More would be better.”

“Will do.” Francis said.