"Goddess, I've missed actual food so much." The noble girl moaned, tucking into the hearty vegetable stew with the fervor of a starved wolf. He sat beside her on the floor rather than on a stool, though he still had to bend his neck due to the low roof of the tavern. He nibbled at a loaf of crunchy fresh bread, unable to taste it but enjoying the texture, his sharpened teeth and claws breaking it apart into bite-sized chunks.

When the old hunter had finally led them back to Rocksdale, he gave them a rather abrupt goodbye before hurrying off deeper into the village. The place itself was nothing too remarkable, a medium sized village surrounded by wooden walls to keep out any monsters emerging from the woods. Personally, Buddy thought it was unnecessary. The muddy fields which surrounded the village would make getting to it through them a slog, and monsters weren't often known to travel the roads unless they were enticed to.

They entered the village through an open gate, making their way through the settlement to the tavern to claim their reward for the quest. The streets were that distinct rural mix of cobbled roads and dirt tracks, grass and foliage occupying every unused space within the village. People went about their days but quickly scurried away after seeing the undead towering at the level of the rooftops. The small village didn't actually have an Adventurer’s guild branch to turn in the quest, but the tavern owner was a member of the guild who paid her the reward while staring fearfully at Buddy looming behind her. He grinned apologetically at the man, but it didn't seem to make him feel better. Taking the quest reward from the barkeep like this felt a little like extortion to him, actually.

It must have felt great to have money again, money which the girl immediately spent by handing it right back to the tavern owner for room and board. The hairy man almost seemed to open his mouth, presumably to tell them they couldn’t stay, but froze when the undead noticed his slight jaw movement, black orbs locking onto his and dissuading any potential argument.

The other patrons of the tavern stared at the duo fearfully. Buddy was surprised to find as many fearful looks sent her way as his. Apparently an artist was just as scary as their art. The girl's claim of being a necromancer surprised him. He knew it was a bluff, but back in his day making that kind of claim could get you-

His stretched flesh which had previously blackened and twisted beneath the fire's passionate kiss had ceased to burn. He giggled, a high, maddening noise which infuriated his torturer. There was no way they expected him to unlock his magic, much less that his attunement would be this. They could only play with him for so long now. He would adapt. A twisted giggle continued to worm its way up his throat, even as his next punishment arrived. His eyes no longer held fear as he stared at the noose, wondering how many times he would be-

Hung, drawn and quartered.

As her bowl finally began to run empty, the girl glanced with puppy eyes between his bread and the last pool of broth. Gently, he split the roll in about half and handed her the larger chunk. She grinned at him and wolfed down the last remnants of her meal. That's it, focus on the present. It would ease his mind away from those sickening thoughts.

But he wanted to think about them. About how his monstrous form was perhaps unintended, that he had somehow warped himself into this to save him from the agony. Idly, he traced a black claw along one arm, feeling the pressure but no pain.

In his memory he had thought of an attunement. But what kind? The problem was that you could never use magic unless you knew what you were trying to do with it, so he was stuck.

Once his companion was finished, she leaned back in her chair and gave a long, happy sigh. She peeked open one eye to see the undead staring at her with an odd expression.

"What? I haven't ate in like two days, fuck table manners." She chuckled, crossing her arms. He grinned slightly.

"Honestly, I feel mad." She slowly said, glancing up at her companion. "Not as in angry, but insane. I mean seriously, how am I alive right now? Why are you peaceful? Why can you understand me?"

She laughed tiredly, rubbing her eyes after yet another day's long travel. "This whole situation is madness."

He was silent. As usual.

"Well, I suppose I'm glad I found you, buddy. At least I'm not travelling alone anymore." She glanced around the tavern, disinterestedly meeting the fearful glances shot her way. As a noble, this was probably nothing new to her. People had always had to be fearful of her.

"Speaking of which, I have no idea where to go next. I need…" She trailed off, sighing. He gave her an attentive look. "I need money, power and influence. Money is fairly simple, you just gotta get lucky with finding quests. But the other two? I have no idea."

Buddy gestured with one long clawed hand, trying to urge her to continue. She smiled at his interest and resumed her monologue.

"That's why I ran away from home, you know? I had all the money I wanted but no power or influence. Apparently my say didn't matter. I was just supposed to do whatever was 'best for the family', even if that meant marrying some guy I had literally never met before." She laughed derisively. "So I said fuck that. I wanted agency in my life so I just left. Took off with a pouch of gold and didn't look back. I thought the adventuring life would be fun, no one to tell you what to do or where to go."

She glanced around tiredly, sighing.

"So far it hasn't been great."

He nodded. From her clothes, excitement at the reward of coppers, and general lack of… everything, he assumed she'd been down on her luck.

From what he remembered, the adventuring business was all about connections. Typically jobs weren't just posted for anyone to accept, but often sent to adventuring companies to be distributed to their members. The companies were like little guilds within the guild.

Oh hey, he remembered that. Nice.

"To be honest, the whole system is shit. My family controls the adventurer's guild and yet they've done nothing to change it. It's nearly identical to the system from hundreds of years ago, that's how outdated it is." She sighed. "If I was in charge, I'd reform the whole thing. Put in a ranking system where you get assigned quests according to your ability, rather than the hodgepodge of luck it is now. Of course, if I let my parents marry me off then I won't have total control over the guild, my husband would own half and might stop me from changing it."

Buddy sat in quiet contemplation, not that he could sit in any other kind. He didn't know what to think of her story. While it certainly wasn't right for them to try and use her so politically, surely she shouldn't have just taken off? Her parents must have been worried sick, she was clearly young and inexperienced with taking care of herself.

Then again, he had the vague feeling that something was making him biased here. Something about loyalty.

Though, as he thought about it more, he suddenly realised what her plan was. She needed to guarantee she was in total control of the guild, so she had to make sure she wouldn't get married. And since her parents would force her into it to secure more connections, her only option was to wait until they got elderly enough and she got adult enough that she could claim herself to be the head of her noble house.

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Damn, he had to admit that it was a smart plan. She was wise beyond her years, he yearned to ask her so many questions. But again, he was left to groan internally at his lack of speech. He couldn't ask her anything.

Not even her name.

He cursed mentally, if only he'd taken the time and learnt to-

She gave him a smile warmer than the summer sun. "Surely you want to learn to read? There are so many wonderful books to read, and I'm certain you have many wonderful stories to-"

Write.

Hey, that one wasn't so bad. His other distant memories had been nightmarish, but he rather enjoyed that one. He'd love to see that smile any day. Far preferable to the scenes of agony, certainly.

Abruptly, he was whisked away from his thoughts as a man sat down across from them at the table. The jolly looking fellow dusted off his thick coat, massive moustache bouncing as he gave them a wide grin.

"I just had a visit from our most experienced hunter, Pierce. He told me all about you two! It's a pleasure to meet you, miss. I am Doran, mayor of our little village."

The girl looked up at him in surprise, shifting her posture in her seat from relaxed to refined. She bore a polite smile and tone as she addressed him.

"The pleasure's all mine, mister mayor. I am Eliza, adventurer and necromancer."

Oh, her name! Eliza. He rolled it about in his mouth, despite being unable to vocalise it. It seemed fitting, somehow. Really fitting.

"Wow, a necromancer in Rocksdale! What an honour. We've never had a visitor of such unique talent before." The mayor spoke passionately as he folded his hands together on the wooden table. He spoke oddly, with the subdued intensity that one would have in a job interview.

"Well, I'm just passing through. I'll be departing in the morning."

"In the morning? Why, that is rather soon, it's already almost nightfall. Any reason for the hurry?" He squinted.

"No? I just need to get a move on. There's no quests available around here."

"Ah, yes, that does make sense. Rocksdale is a sleepy village, after all. We like to keep things pure and peaceful around here." The mayor's grin stretched to his ears. Buddy thought the man put a strange amount of emphasis on that last statement. "Well, I won't keep you any longer. It's getting late. I hope you have pleasant dreams, Miss Eliza."

As he stood, he shot her a cheeky wink from over his swaying moustache. "Try not to steal anyone's soul, miss!" He chuckled. The mayor’s eyes turned steely and cold for a moment as they met Buddy’s own, a flash of tension running through their met gazes.

The large man left quickly, leaving a tired Eliza and concerned Buddy in his wake. She yawned loudly, stretching before rising from her chair.

"I'm going to bed, buddy. Sleeping in the woods wasn't particularly restful and I'm ready to crawl into a real bed again." She glanced at the empty space between his long legs. "Yeah, and we can share the room. I don't foresee any issues."

He tilted his head, unsure what she meant, but followed her up the creaky wooden stairs and long hallway to her room, passing by multiple other ones on each side before arriving at her’s near the corridor’s end. With a twist of the key she’d been given, the heavy door swung open with a loud creak. It was a simple tavern bedroom, a bed and cupboard with not much else. As the noble girl stripped off her armour and climbed into bed, passing out the moment her head hit the pillow, Buddy stared pensively at the door.

He had a bad feeling.

As the daylight faded away, he felt himself entering a kind of fugue state. Not sleep, certainly not. He hadn’t done that in a long time. But it was a state where his body felt heavy, his mind wandering through old memories.

They were painful, of course, as his past often seemed to be. But this time he didn’t snap himself out of it, he allowed his consciousness to explore the dusty corridors of his mind.

He had been listless for days, a puppet with his strings cut. The carriage had carried him out into the deepest part of the woods, the man in white attending to personally ensure he was sealed away. For such an important figure, the man in white must have truly hated him to spend days of his precious time travelling to the tomb with him.

Rain battered the already soaked earth, the sound of it’s assault on the wood’s foliage echoing through the prison’s clearing. The rocky cell stood tall in the field’s centre. Some would say him ending up there was inevitable as death. A poor metaphor. Such a fate was uncertain, not everyone was so lucky.

Two armoured men, faces obscured by the visors of their helmets, dragged him forward from the carriage’s resting point, his long white limbs digging trenches in the mud. At last, they dumped him on the wet earth, stepping back. The man in white approached slowly, pristine boots becoming coated in mud as he moved to stand before his limp form. His gaze was pure hatred, the vindictive fire of an executioner beside the icy apathy of a torturer.

“I think it’s about time we ceased this charade. If you don’t want to talk that’s just fine, we’ll seal you away so you never talk to anyone again.” His imperious form paced a lazy circle around the stretched body, eyes locked on the head which stared lifelessly into the mud beneath. “Your power is impressive. Flesh attunement, how novel. It’s a shame that even with the undead curse it wouldn’t matter if we kept you, you’d just outlast and adapt to the tortures.”

He sighed, sullied boots coming to a stop directly before the undead’s head. Though he stared at the mud he rested in, he saw them in his periphery. Beautiful white coated by boggy brown.

Much like the man himself, wasn’t it? A person claiming to be pure and perfect who was more twisted and sinful than anyone else.

“Not that it’s something you’d do, but I feel it’s customary to ask this…” The man in white paused, staring balefully at the figure at his feet. “Any last words?”

Did he have any last words?

He hadn’t spoken for months. No, about a year. He hadn’t screamed in months.

Did he have anything to say? Any last words he wanted to give to the man who tortured, broke and twisted him?

He thought carefully. About his life, the old times, the last torturous year.

Yeah, actually.

He did have something to say.

…

Slowly.

...

Ever so slowly.

...

He lifted his head.

...

“Fuck you.”

His claw sunk deep into the man’s flesh, black talons piercing the white fabric of his robe. He surged up from the mud like a corpse brought back to life, pale flesh sending a spray of the mired earth in every direction as he attacked with a sudden vigour.

His black eyes, adapted from the spikes which prodded them, stared hatefully into the wide eyes which held his gaze. Blood dripped from the man’s mouth, his shocked expression as he clutched at the wrist which led into his innards a shot of pure ecstasy for the undead. He leaned forward, grinning maliciously as the guardsmen surged forward to stop him. The man in white shook, thrashing in his grasp as he tore into his neck, sharp teeth which were once flat then broken with hammers, ripping through the man’s soft flesh.

Deep inside him, whatever part of his soul that had changed when he became undead stirred in grim satisfaction. The blood. The lifeforce. It drained down his throat, satisfying that primal, dark urge.

It ended all too soon as he was dragged away, tossed into the prison which awaited him. The enchanted chains snatched him immediately, coiling around his limbs like malicious steel snakes.

He grinned, a fire in his dark eyes as he watched the man in white soaked in red, slumping into the mud as the tomb door rolled shut.

He laughed. A broken, hollow laugh.

It would turn to horror, rage, misery. Soon enough he’d be screaming and clawing at the walls before falling silent once more.

But for now?

He clutched his gaunt face with bloody claws, laughing and crying as he was condemned to a fate worse than death.