Worm lay on the thin padded mat which served as a bedroll. It was small. Small enough that his feet rested uncomfortably on the cold stone surface. It was also lumpy and smelled of sweat.

Specifically, the sweat of an old dwarf.

He knew it was an old Dwarf who’d owned it before because Peter had been quite clear on that fact.

“It’s really not your size,” the Shopkeeper had told him. “I have one here which was owned by an Elf. It’s much more comfortable. And he kept it meticulously clean. I mean, you can still smell the leaves used to pad the thing. It has a bonus to your Health Regeneration and additional bonuses to Softness.”

“I don’t care about that,” Worm snapped back, holding the small bedroll possessively. “I care about fleas! And this one has Pest Resistance. I like that more than anything else right now.”

With those words echoing in his ears, Worm reflected on his Stubbornness Trait and tried to determine if it was a more positive effect in his life than the negative it seemed.

Petal, who’d placed her own bedroll right next to his, rolled over. Her face rested close to his cheek.

Her arm snaked over his chest.

It might have excited him if he were both younger and she wasn’t snoring in his ear.

----------------------------------------

Cordelia sat in her coffin, legs crossed and brow furrowed. One fang perched on her bottom lip with pointed concern.

Something, she thought, was wrong with her. There was proof of this in the few new Stats which had appeared as soon as he’d cast the spell on her.

She’d fled to her room as soon as Worm had lay down. She had to. Her whole body had been aching to lay down next to him and demand he Control her all night. She’d struggled so hard against the impulse that she’d actually gained a temporary Buff for it.

Once, when she was still a Fledgling Vampire, she’d gone to her first actual Royal event. Blissfully ignorant of social graces and the rituals of High Society, she’d made an utter fool of herself by using the wrong spoon with her soup.

The mocking laughter had cut deep.

Deep enough she’d been responsible for the subsequent deaths of ten attending Nobles and a Serving Wench over the next few nights.

She’d never been so humiliated again until tonight.

It should have enraged her to feel utterly weak before a man. She’d never felt this way before. Not even when she thought she’d fallen in love with a Blacksmith’s Apprentice in the little town of Carmon Heath. He’d spurned her as soon as he saw her fangs.

His rejection had given her more than five stacks of Broken Hearted.

That she wanted nothing more than to submit completely to someone who was essentially a stranger to her should have also made her very uncomfortable. Instead, she’d caught herself searching for a Party option which would allow her to give herself to him.

She wanted, she realised with a shudder, to be his possession.

Distressed at these impulses, she huddled in the relative safe space of her coffin and struggled to understand why Vampires couldn’t cry.

Which was how Lord Pinkytoes found her right before jumping deftly into her lap and curling into a tight warm ball of fluff.

She stroked his fur with gentle fingers and her mood softened with his purrs.

Of course, the Kitten presented a whole new dilemma in that now she wasn’t sure how she’d be able to close her coffin if he didn’t leave before Dawn.

But that, she decided with a melancholy sigh, was hours away…

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Morning brought with it a cloudless sky and warm sun beaming merrily down upon the world. It was good enough to gift a 12-hour Buff to Mood to most living things and the birds took advantage of this to fill the air with delighted carols.

Lord Pinkytoes crept from the Vampire’s sepulchre and past his sleeping servants. Only his Maid was suitably alert. He squinted at her, pleased as she grinned widely at him.

He let her give him a few scritches before prancing out into the fresh crisp air to feast.

His first prey, a little Red-Breasted Sparrow, exploded inside the feral slash of claw and tooth as the over-excited Kitten shredded it in the blink of an eye.

Paws dripping with gore, the beast heard the pleasant tinkle of a bell in his ear and answered it with a triumphant mew.

Still the birds sang in the trees all around.

The songs didn’t touch his heart. They were simply signposts. Markers to help him find his prey.

He needed prey. Craved prey. As many as he could find. He wanted more.

More blood for the road.

----------------------------------------

Daisy picked at the twigs in her hand. She plucked the leaves, putting them into a small red bag. The buds of the flowers she put in a blue bag.

When she was done, the bags sat plump in her palms.

Carefully, she labelled them before storing them away.

Worm tossed in his sleep nearby. Petal had rolled away from him, which pleased the Undead Servant. While she appreciated her Master needed a bodyguard, she didn’t approve of Petal touching him.

There was, after all, a natural pecking order to these things and Petal was attempting to jump the queue.

She reminded herself to speak to the Mercenary about it and opened Agatha Appleblossom’s Enchanted Herbs of the Weird Woods to the chapter which provided tips on how to package her Looted Herbs.

Some would be fine in little bags like the ones she had sewn the night before. Others would need jars. She’d need to buy some from the village.

Pursing her lips, she jotted a few notes into the margins before tucking the book into her Inventory again.

Her Master would be waking soon.

She needed to be ready.

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When Worm woke, the first thing he noticed was how silent it was.

He couldn’t hear even a single bird tweeting.

The second thing was Daisy, squatting beside his face, skirt riding high enough to show off pristine white panties underneath. Her violet eyes were alight with delight and mischief as she held out a small pouch.

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

The pouch was bound with pink ribbon and tiny pink flowers were hand-sewn into the fabric.

She’d sewn them while he slept, her slender fingers working each individual flower with love and affection as she glanced often at his sleeping form and smiled.

“Here, Master. I harvested you some Nightsbane.”

Worm snatched the pouch and stuffed it into his inventory with a scowl.

Scrambling free of his bedroll, he stomped outside into the fresh morning air which he breathed deeply into his lungs. Glancing back to be sure she hadn’t immediately followed, he wiped his eyes with the cuff of his shirt.

The Necromancer stared at the damp spots on his cuff and sighed.

Had he tried Holy Water?

Yes.

Yes, he had.

All it’d done was get her feather duster wet.

Gritting his teeth, he stared out into the silent forest and shook his head. There had to be a way to destroy her. There just had to.

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“He really doesn’t like you, does he?” Petal asked quietly from her bedroll.

“You’re awake early,” Daisy observed. “Did you have bad dreams again?”

Petal snorted. “I don’t have bad dreams. I sleep like the dead.”

“We don’t sleep at all,” Daisy said.

“You’re undead. I meant the actual dead.”

“So did I.” Her violet eyes glowed brightly. “After I died, I didn’t sleep.”

Petal frowned. “What was it like?”

“Dying? Or being dead?”

“Both.”

“I don’t remember much about dying. It all happened terribly fast.” Daisy scratched her head as she tried to remember. “I remember in my last moment thinking that I could taste lemons and I couldn’t understand why.”

“Lemons?”

“Yes. And they weren’t like sour lemons. They were sort of sweet in a way. Zesty.”

“Doesn’t sound like any lemon I’ve ever tasted, then.”

“No, it wasn’t. It was very different.” Daisy started packing up her little Sewing Kit. “Then after that, I went to a different place. And it felt much more real than here.”

“What kind of place?”

“I’m not sure I can describe it. It was a city, and there were a lot of people living there. But it wasn’t Heaven or Hell. It was just a city. Some people were rich. Some were poor. I remember a little match girl selling matches on the corner. She had beautiful blue eyes. And there was a donut shop.”

“Ugh. Don’t tell me we have to do life all over again…”

“I don’t know,” Daisy said, stowing her Kit into her Inventory. “I wasn’t there very long. I didn’t even get the chance to try a donut. I was on my way to get one when he summoned me back into my body. I was a bit annoyed about that.”

“So, why does he hate you?”

Standing, Daisy started brushing dust from her cute little maid outfit and smiled as she skipped out after her Master. “He doesn’t hate me,” she said confidently. “He’s just very confused. Which is why he needs me.”

Petal watched the Undead Servant disappear into the bright light and tried to decide whether the girl was in denial or if she was right and Worm was just confused.

In the end, the truth was obvious.

They were both crazy.

With that conundrum resolved, she rolled over and went back to sleep.

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Not too far away, someone else understood the oddity of the Afterlife but was experiencing it in a very different way to Daisy.

Eric Twinge had been eating a banana when he was hit by the Number Forty-Seven to Broomsfield Hospital where he had been hoping to visit his Grandma who was getting some warts removed.

He never felt a thing.

Unlike Daisy, his journey to the Afterlife was a frightening one. He’d been ripped from his body by the impact and sent rocketing up into the stars. As a fan of Star Wars, he should’ve liked the sudden burst of speed which flung him from one side of the universe to the other, but instead it just made him want to be sick.

This is because, like Worm, Eric suffered from Motion Sickness.

Eventually, he slowed down and was pulled into the orbit of a very large planet. He spun around it a few more times which made him want to vomit even more, then plummeted like a meteor through the atmosphere.

Screaming in terror, young Eric expected to be splattered across the landscape. Instead, he felt like he was snatched out of the air and forcibly squeezed into a little red gem the size of a cricket ball.

Which hurt.

A lot.

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Nita Starwing was a spritely young Fairy who was quick to smile and even quicker to dance.

On her Twentieth birthday, she’d been selected as a Dungeon Fairy. This was not only an honour, but a path to wonderful Perks, Achievements, and an enviable Retirement Bonus. Remembering this moment in her life still made her tiny heart swell with pride.

Her life since had been spent diligently learning everything she could about Dungeons, and she couldn’t wait to put her studies into practice to help the Dungeon Level Up and become the best in the whole world.

Like all fairies, she was tiny enough to sit in a human’s palm with plenty of room to spare. She had an elegant body and slightly overlarge head and eyes. Her wings, delicate and diaphanous, shimmered with iridescence and her eyes sparkled with magical golden light.

Dressed in a thin little dress woven from the finest leaves and most colourful petals, she epitomized the enchanting charm of a Fairy.

She hoped the Dungeon was a nice person and that it would like her, too.

Her happy little mind was filled with these thoughts when, only a few minutes from her destination, a blur of fur, teeth, and claw tore the life from her body.

She never had time to scream.

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Lord Pinkytoes sat on the edge of the clearing, watching as the Weak One ranted wildly at the Herbed One.

He had a surprisingly loud voice when he was ranting.

He wondered if he’d made a mistake keeping the Weak One around.

Swallowing the last of his latest prey, he forgot about the Weak One entirely as that delightful bell sounded again to let him know he’d both levelled up and gained a new Achievement for killing and eating this new prey.

He’d had four of these this morning, and each one pleased him greatly.

Purring happily, he trotted casually towards the Herbed One, who ignored the Weak One’s rants and bent down to give him scritches. Mewing happily, he rolled onto his side and rubbed up against her ankles.

She said something to the Weak One who threw his hands up and stomped away.

Suddenly remembering why he’d come out of the forest in the first place, Lord Pinkytoes pushed the Herbed One’s hand away and gave a short sharp cough.

Then proudly vomited a Fairy wing onto her shoe.

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“It’s supposed to be around here somewhere,” Worm muttered darkly.

Scratching his head, he circled a few old trees while keeping the little hill in view. Somewhere in that hill was a cave. At least, that’s what he’d been told.

That cave would be the Dungeon.

He poked around further, wondering if it was further up the hillside than he’d been told.

By lunchtime, all he’d discovered was that raspberry bush thorns hurt and not eating breakfast only made him grumpy.

He thought of his Undead Servant. A normal Necromancer would have sent her out to find the Dungeon. Fulfilling his every demand was, after all, the job of every Undead Servant. It was right there in the spell description.

He sat down on a rock and sighed.

It was, he decided, all her fault.

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Daisy cuddled Lord Pinkytoes, whose purrs vibrated delightfully up her arms as he butted her face with his head. His whiskers were ticklish and she smiled.

It was difficult to feel sad when you had a cat in your hands, she thought.

She wished her Master would try it some time.

“Where is he?” Petal growled, staggering out of the crumbling old ruin and stepping up to the campfire Daisy had carefully constructed.

“He went looking for the Dungeon.” She put a smile on her face and hoped it looked happier than it felt. “Would you like some tea? I put some Lavendar in it.”

Petal frowned. “What rank are you?”

“In Tea Brewing? Rank Seven.”

Petal squatted, pulling out a tin mug from her Inventory. “Then you won’t be poisoning me, I guess.”

“Not by accident, no.”

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“I should go help him,” Daisy said.

“He’s a Dungeon Master, isn’t he?” Petal cleaned out the tin mug and put it away. “He should’ve found it by now.”

“What if he hasn’t?”

“Then he should open his eyes.”

Daisy slumped, then realised what she was doing and sat up straighter, putting on her best smile.

Lord Pinkytoes rolled over her foot, batting at her leg for more scritches. She gave them to him.

“Spit it out,” Petal said.

“What?”

“Whatever’s bugging you. Look, I’m not good at social stuff, so just spit it out. It’ll save you saying nothing’s wrong and then me having to pretend I really care.”

“Do you think I’m a good Maid?”

“I don’t know. What makes a good Maid?” Petal pursed her lips. “Do you have many Levels in it?”

“Only five. But that’s not the point. I mean, I’m Undead. Maybe being a Maid doesn’t suit me. And he doesn’t seem to like me dusting. Or making his bed. Or cleaning his shirts. That kind of makes it hard to level up the Class. I was thinking of trying to be something more useful to him.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. Master is very secretive. He doesn’t tell me when he wants something.”

Petal eyed the Undead Maid as she considered what to say and how to best lift the other woman’s spirits. “Well, from everything I’ve seen, the only thing he seems to want is for you to go away.”

“Oh, that.” Daisy sighed. “I'm telling you, it's just a big old misunderstanding.”

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Petal stomped around until she found him.

He was flat on his back, looking at the sky. His eyes were half-closed and his Dungeon Master pamphlet was laying scrunched up beside him.

“Find it yet?”

“No,” he said. “I was just resting.”

“I thought you had high Intelligence. Doesn’t that help you find Traps and Hidden Entrances.”

“Yes, it does. But this is different.”

“How?”

“It’s a Level One Dungeon. Its Camouflage skill is too high for me to spot.”

“Then how did a bunch of Townies find it when you couldn’t?” She sat next to him, looking at the hill and admitting it looked like any other hill to her. Large grey stones poking out of grassy green ridges.

Good place for a tribe of goblins to move into.

“I think they found it before the Dungeon figured out how to activate its skill.” He sighed. “I’m not sure I care about it anyway. I shouldn’t even be here.”

Petal peered down at him, then stood. Scratching her chin, she looked off towards the trees in the nearby forest. “You know, I’m actually sick of listening to other people’s problems. I think I’m gonna go for a walk instead.”

As she strutted away again, he lifted his head in surprise.

“What was that all about?”

She looked over her shoulder. “You’ve got an Undead Servant. Use her. It’d make her happy.”

When the Mercenary was gone, he grimaced. “I know it would.”