The town was average, the walls too nice, the streets full of people, markets bustling, the sky was clear, the sun was bright.
Malum couldn’t care less about what was around him. He was so close.
He asked around.
“Alicia and Jake, does anyone know an Alicia or Jake.”
He asked the stall owners, he asked the tavern keepers, he asked everyone who even listened for a second until he heard the words he had been listening for.
“The couple?” Malum turned towards the voice, an man who had been working on a rooftop had shouted down.
“Yeah!” Malum shouted back.
“Down the street,” He pointed, “Number 52”
Malum ran as fast as his balance and feet could take him. The odd sensation was fairly new but soon remembered the old sensation.
Up and down, his legs smashed against the dirt road.
`52, 52, 52` he spoke like a mantra in his head.
He saw as the house numbers slowly rose, from 30 to 35 from 40 to 50.
Then he looked up, the number on the sign said 52. The door looked nice, polished even. It seemed the two had done well.
He ignored a rising feeling of anxiety and walked up to the door.
He raised his hand and knocked.
He heard a voice from the other side.
“Who is it?”
Malum called out, “Your friend!”
He listened in as he wandered if his voice was recognisable enough. He heard how the door got unlocked then he heard a voice as it slowly opened.
“Which one?”
Malum simply smiled as he watched Jake slowly realise that his friend wasn’t dead.
“You, you,” He turned around as he continued to mutter. He then turned around again and pratcially jumped on Malum.
“Your alive!”
Feeling the dirt behind him, Malum ushered the man back to his usual self. Although it was good see Jake again, and as the grown man cried into his shirt did he realise that he missed his smart friend.
Death had been lonely.
Alicia soon came down the stairs and she soon also jumped then further into the dirt.
“How did you survive? Am I dreaming?”
They started to ask questions to which Malum wanted to do out of the dirt. He got up and talked as they walked into the house.
“Yes, Ill answer everything inside and no Gerald is not alive as well. As far as I am aware.”
He decided to say that before they got their hopes up.
Still they had Malum before them so they didn’t’ let their sadness show. Already had they received a gift so they just let themselves appreciate what they had.
The story of his near death came from Malums mouth, then his story about alchemy and his teacher.
Lying didn’t feel great but Malum was beyond guilt for his actions. In his mind, it was for both of them that they didn’t know the truth.
Who knows what would happen if people learned he truly revived. The churches would go mad, doctors even moreso.
Instead some mundane story would keep everyone happy, so that’s what he told.
Seeing the two happy, Malum could not help but feel happy for them. Especially when he learned the news that the couple were trying for a baby.
They were young, they had both secured jobs and managed to afford a house so the next step for them was to start a family. Considering it was one of their goals, Malum congratulated them to no end.
It was great seeing them do so well. Some part of him was worried the two would still be hung up about their deaths but it was good to see them cope so well.
Malum did have feelings of jealousy and envy over the couple. Being dead for so long, being near emotionless did give him great insight as to his emotional state so feeling these things was obvious to Malums brain.
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He understood why he felt some anger at the couple. But at the end of the day it was just plain idiotic. They never forced him to sacrifice himself, and that had done nothing but make his sacrifice worth it.
They chatted about their future plans and Malum got an invitation to the couples actual wedding. This time an actual priest would be there and proper rings would be exchanged. That wasn’t going to be for 8 months though, as they had to save up for the ceremony after they had blown most of their money on the new house.
It soon got late with how much they talked. Malum didn’t really want to stay the night and the couple weren’t going to force him.
It was good seeing them, but it was almost strange seeing his friends in such a different environment. No longer were they soldiers but freemen and no longer were they fighting for their lives.
They seemed happy, there smiles never left their faces and in the army Malum had hardly seen them smile a few times.
He was going back, his ambitions demanded it but some part of him wanted what they had.
A simple life, with a nice woman and to create a family.
Perhaps before his death he would have taken that path. Revenge was a flimsy goal and cultivation was just a childhood fantasy.
Now though, it promised everything Malum wanted. Death was now cost he could no longer afford to pay and so as he got back on his horse, he began to stride back to his warzone.
With a sting ringing through his head, he also decided to pick up some good numbing herbs as he rode.
He arrived back at the stone walled city and after returning his horse he arrived quickly at an inn. It was the agreed upon meeting spot that they had chosen via letters and with it Malum would soon rejoin the army.
The plan was fairly simple. Jameson was going to recommend him for the Southern front and the army was always looking for lambs for the slaughter so he acceptance was guaranteed.
Thankfully due to the recommendation he would be able to skip the training course usually required.
He sat down at the inn bar and ordered himself a drink. Alcohol was slowly becoming a habit as his headache proved itself to be permanent.
The potions sometimes helped, but they always wore off. He had done just about everything he could think of and perhaps the only somewhat successful thing he found was meditation.
But that was just like sleep, he couldn’t fell it but then he also didn’t feel much else so what was the point. What he needed was a miracle cure, and yet sadly he was finding cures with bad side effects.
There was nothing else he could do so he drowned himself in the terribly bad tasting beer. The meeting wasn’t scheduled until tomorrow so he had some time to burn and with money spare he decided to drink the night away.
Being drunk was quite a fun feeling anyway, but for a man stuck in his own thoughts for god knows how long it was feeling he loved more than he healthily should.
For the night, he indulged himself. The ride had been anything but nice so he enjoyed the warm bed, and the good food.
Morning came to the drowsy Malum and he found his headache had of course not left him. He had dreamed of it shutting up for once but reality was never that nice.
Dragging clothes on himself he went to shower but quickly avoided that pit and decided to find a nicer one that didn’t look quite so mouldy.
Next door had decent ones so he used those for a few of his coins. His Uncle had told him to stay clear of them as mould were carriers of disease, same with rats and the like. His word was good enough for Malum to follow the advice.
Clean, he put on some clothes and sat back at the bar. He wandered about a morning drink but decided some morning training would be better for himself.
He knew alcoholics, and he didn’t want to become one. The sweat drunk feeling was for occasions and Malum swore to keep them to a minimum.
He worked off his treat and then some by refining a new style.
He was a coward, and he had learned this as he had fought against beasts on the roads. No longer did he take risks and this led to a loss of efficiency but he also sustained far less injuries for his effort.
Having two arms was a game changer and he had decided to pick up two swords as dual wielding held benefits that someone of his prowess could exploit. It started because of his spare but soon found the option an attractive one. He still kept his dagger as a last resort, or perhaps as a memento of the past.
Swords could block just as well as shields, considering they could parry, Malum reckoned it could achieve more than any normal shield.
It did take some getting used to, the coordination between the two was especially challenging. Both wanted to take the lead but sometimes that wasn’t an option and when the two swords collided it caused nothing but pain to Malums hands and arms.
The poor tree outside was left with deep scars but for it Malum had learned more about his fighting style.
It was good because, by the time he had finished he saw someone standing next to a nearby tree.
“Jameson! Don’t tell you’ve standing there for hours.” Malum said as he wiped off some sweat.
He leaned of the tree he was using as a rest and replied to Malum, “No I’ve only been here a few minutes. Dual wielding ey?”
Malum sheathed his swords before he explained, “Yeah I felt it could better me as a fighter. More swords equals more killing.”
Jameson grinned, “fine logic. Make sure you don’t switch every time you feel a barrier, you’ve got to pick something to master eventually or your be a journeyman at everything.”
With his experience in battle, Malum took his words to heart and decided to focus on making himself really good at dual wielding. He looked at the two swords in his sheaths and swore to take them all the way to the top.
With that done, Malum and Jameson spoke about a few mundane topic before they talked about their plan to enter back into deployment.
“I’ll be signing up today and I’ll put you under my name. With my authority they won’t even question me about it. My title alone makes me nigh untouchable to most.”
“Of course milord, your reputation knows no bounds.”
“Cheeky prick, where’d you even learn how to bow like that. That was like, good.”
“My Uncle was quite the teacher. Anything and everything, I’m at least okay at it.”
“Alright bet, 1 silver for a poem recital right this second.”
Malum looked at him and said, “My honour’s worth more than that. A beer, at least!”
Jameson laughed and shouted for a beer. Taking it as a queue Malum began his poem in earnest.
“The God of Good, in light adorned,
Spreads warmth and hope where dreams are born.
The God of Evil, cloaked in night,
Sows fear and doubt, a chilling blight.”
Malum breathed again as he thought back to the words,
“They dance as one, in endless fight,
For neither thrives without the other’s might.
In every soul, their struggle stays,
A balance struck in dark and blaze.”
With his joyful voice he ended the poem and Jameson nearly stood up in applause.
“Bravo, a bard talent is stuck in your soldier body!”
His poetry was alright, not worth the applause though so he shut down his enthusiastic friend. He took his drink from the coming waiter and downed his embarrassment in that.
He swore never to speak a poem again. Even in the eternal misery of death.
They enjoyed the rest of their time before eventually they dragged their bodies over to the Town Hall where they signed themselves up for death with grins of their faces.