“Fuck that bitch,” was the first thing she said after closing the room door.

Unbelievable. Really fucking unbelievable! The bitch actually had the nerve to ask if she was a witch… when the proprietor of the inn was a literal walking stereotype! How the fuck did that make sense? That musclebound shrew ought to be taught a lesson. Maybe Sage should wait until the late hours of the night to sneak up on her and beat the ever-living crap out of her!

There’s no need for such compulsiveness, she tried to cool herself.

Having a violent reaction to the smallest slight would be silly and immature. Such actions would be detrimental to her goal of trying to stay out of trouble. Although she acknowledged her petty nature, she also recognised that succumbing to it would yield no advantages when it hindered a larger objective. So, the smart thing to do was to let it go; at least until she got her hands on a method to strengthen her body. After that, it would not be too late to look for the bitch’s party and show them who is boss.

“She is only worried about the missing people,” Isaac chimed in.

Of course the bastard would defend her.

“And what does that have to do with me?” she asked. “I haven’t even been here for an hour.”

In response to her question, Isaac released an exasperated breath that gave the outside of his helm a new crystalised sheen.

“I hope I don’t have to stress this because it has been pointed plenty of times. Your mask, your clothing; everything about you radiates suspicion. People are naturally inclined to suspect the most dubious individuals.”

“They can keep their suspicions to themselves,” she scoffed. “I won’t do anything as long as they keep to themselves.”

Her tone carried her intention; she no longer wanted to discuss this topic. Isaac must have caught the finality in her voice because he did not pursue it.

After saying her bit, she walked over to one of two single beds in the room and lifted the thin sheets and straw mattress. With the condition of the inn, it would not be a surprise if mites nested in them. Fortunately for her, the 3rd Order spell [Repel Vermin] existed. She cast it, waited a couple of minutes as the room’s inhabitants escaped out the open window and put the mattress and sheets back in their original place. Then she flung herself face first on the bed and closed her eyes.

Unfortunately, she was unable to sink into slumber; so after a couple minutes snuggling into the sheets, she released a sigh and unwillingly got up.

“Nyx,” she called.

As soon as she called, her familiar jumped out of the bed’s shadow and into her lap. Upon settling down, he looked at her with large pleading eyes. As he was basically an extension of her, it was fairly easy to intuit what he wanted. She sighed through her nose and rubbed his back and ears; eliciting a purr from him.

She had not called him to pet him though.

“Give me my notes,” she said.

The ritual circle for her next undead was done, but she felt there was still some way she could improve it. When the cat dumped the notes on the bed, she picked them up with her free hand and began to go through them.

After that, time passed fairly quickly. Before she knew it, there was a knock on the door.

“Come in,” she called.

The door opened and in came the half-orc child. As she had been in the common room, her posture was lowered, dark eyes finding solace in the dusty floor. Sage studied her from top to bottom and realised that she had missed the fact that the girl lacked shoes earlier. However, that had nothing to do with her. Her gaze shifted around until it landed on the tray in the girl’s hands, on which two wooden bowls of steaming soup and a loaf of bread rested.

“’T- ‘tis dinner,” the girl stuttered, keeping her gaze glued to the floor.

“Put it on the table,” Sage replied, before shoving her nose back in her notes.

Without another word, the girl walked over to the table and set the tray down before excusing herself. Her exit from the room was akin to a flight from danger.

After the door closed behind the girl, Sage gave her notes to Nyx, took off her mask and approached the table. She picked up the loaf- which she discovered was as almost as hard as concrete- and broke it in two with some difficulty. Then she grabbed a bowl and walked back to the bed. After sitting herself down, she tore a piece from her hard loaf and dipped it into the soup before shoving it into her mouth. She dipped another piece of bread in the soup and fed it to her cat. Then she turned to Isaac, who had been sitting in the armchair by the window since she settled onto the bed.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

“The other bowl is meant for you,” she said to him.

He did not even turn to her when responding. “I’m not hungry.”

“Neither am I, but we have to keep up appearances,” she retorted.

To this, he took off his helm, looked at her and uttered a single question.

“Why?”

“Why what?” He was not exactly being specific.

“As an undead, why do you want to blend in with humans?” he asked, his tone as inquisitive as his gaze.

His question stopped her hand, which was midway to her mouth, making her drop it instead to ponder. Why did she like blending in with the humans indeed? Being undead, there was no reason to be involved with their kind. If she truly wished it, she could lock herself in a cave for a thousand years without their food and drinks and she would not suffer in the slightest.

Theoretically at least.

If Sage had been born an undead like those who naturally spawned in the Deadlands, she would no doubt have had such a mentality. However, that was not her. She used to be human and had lived in their society. After experiencing the spontaneity of humanity, the randomness, the rawness they had to offer; how could she be satisfied with solitude in a dark cave? It would be no different from being stuck in the Abyss! That was true hell, extreme madness. She might be unliving, but she was still a conscious being who desired to feel alive. It was the entire reason why she pursued strength, why she pined for the Elixir of Rejuvenation. If she could not experience life even in her current state, she might as well not exist!

“Is it not natural to want to fit in?” she asked.

“That is a human thing,” Isaac replied sternly, “which you are not.”

“Humans aren’t the only ones who want to fit in,” she responded. All living beings desired to be accepted; but explaining it to the knight would take more time than she bothered to spend away from her notes. “Don’t you want to fit in, to be accepted?”

Her words caused his jaw to tighten and his eyes to narrow, though it only lasted an instant before his features reset.

“You believe someone out there will accept an undead?” his asked sceptically.

Sage shrugged. “If you leave your religious bubble for even a second, you will realise how vast Rekke is and how much people’s opinions vary. Somewhere out there is someone who will accept anyone for who they are and not what is often purported about their race. But of course such people are in the minority, so it wouldn’t hurt to hide what you are; in some cases it might even negate conflict.”

“That’s why you seek an Elixir of Rejuvenation,” he inquired. “To make it easier to blend in with humans?”

“No, I just hate looking like this,” she pointed at her face. “We might not be alive, but we are still conscious beings with emotions and desires. I don’t like looking into a reflective surface and seeing this scarred façade.”

Isaac seemed to contemplate her answer for a while before perking up. “In Tima, you asked me about my goals.”

“When you got all pissy?” she asked. “I remember.”

Her response caused him to grunt in dissatisfaction. When he next spoke though, it was nowhere to be heard.

“What about you?” he asked. “Why do you do what you do?”

“For freedom.”

Hearing this, his eyes widened before shortly narrowing.

“That’s it?” he asked, gritting his teeth. “The reason you’ve killed countless people is in the pursuit of freedom?”

“You’re making me sound like a mass-murderer,” she said, feeling the makings of a frown on her face. “Let’s get one thing straight here. I’ve never killed anyone simply for the hell of it. Every time I delivered a killing blow to someone, it was to keep my identity as an undead under wraps to prevent dozens of Sheans from coming after me. If not for that, my kill count would have never risen above zero… probably.”

“That’s your excuse for Saana’s death?” he growled.

This again; of course! Why was she even surprised? For a moment, she had thought her words from a few days ago had actually gotten through to him. Now she was not so sure. That said, she was not going to explode and end the conversation here. She had answered his question, so it was only fair that he replied to hers.

But in order to query him, she had to cool down him first with the cold truth.

“What I did to the h- High Priestess Saana- was vengeance, a very human concept. She killed someone I… respected; so I killed her. You were the catalyst for everything that happened, so I killed you too. I know you’re angry, but answer me honestly; would you have let it go if you were in my shoes?”

The pale knight looked away and sneered, telling her everything she needed to know about his undelivered response.

“Since I’ve answered your question, it’s time to answer mine,” she declared. “Although you’re undead, you still possess the beliefs and values you did as a human. So, with your values and your current state, what is it your wish for? And please don’t say you wish for my death; such an obvious answer is not what I’m looking for.”

Isaac turned back to face her; a frown deeply etched onto his features. He seemed to take her question seriously though, because he contemplated it for a while before answering.

“I want to help look for the missing people.”

“Absolutely fucking not!” Sage shot down that idea immediately.

“You asked what I want and I gave an answer,” the knight replied grumpily.

“You want us to waste my time helping the quartet of arseholes?” she said, tearing off another piece of bread and dipping it into the soup. “Let me guess; after that you want us to join the Mercenary Guild as well?”

“Guild registration involves inspection via countless magic items,” he stated manner-of-factly. “Unless you desire to be discovered, go ahead. It matters little to me.”

“Then the answer remains fuck no!” she declared.

Un-fucking-believable! The fact that the bastard still wanted to play hero even though he had become the thing of nightmares in would-be damsels’ dreams was nuts. Only a moron would want something like that!

Releasing a huff, Sage broke another piece off her loaf and was about to dip it in the soup, when something inside caught her attention. The sight of it froze her in her entirety, loosening her fingers and letting slip the bowl from her hands. The wooden dish clanged loudly to the floor, spilling the soup and revealing the thing she had spotted in its entirety; the all too familiar shape of a human finger.