Chapter 3

  “Drew Wright, this place is strange,” Spock said as he looked around like a toddler being taken to the dentist for the first time. Weary, and slightly cautious, with no idea of what lay before him.

  Spock wasn’t wrong though, Bonetown was a strange place. It was located only fifteen miles to the North of Sanctuary, and the entire settlement looked to be a fusion of Tim Burton’s Nightmare Before Christmas and… bones. Lots, and lots of bones. If the old staging ground for Drew’s former weavers at Sanctuary had stuck out like a sore thumb, this thumb looked like it had been run over with the lawn mower.

  Barrowcroft, the town surrounding the training dungeon in The Lady’s Halls of Reflection, had nothing on this place, and Barrowcroft was exclusively home to the undead. Bonetown was dreary, there were no shouts of vendors peddling their wares from markets or food stalls, no colors other than white, black and gray, and very little sound of any kind.

  Buildings seemed to sprout from the ground like an ancient creature had died and decomposed there. One tower looked as if a single overly large rib had been twisted and turned onto itself over and over until it reached high into the sky. Others, homes mostly, looked to be made of concrete as everything was flat and flowed together, but they too were also made from bones. In a way, Drew was proud that his former minions had forged their own culture and style, but he still found the entire place to be entirely morbid and a bit spooky.

  “Strange indeed,” Drew nodded as an eerie melody slowly emerged to hang in the air. The tune had a sad tone to it that was occasionally interrupted by small bursts of uplifting rhythm before it fell back down to its former dirge-like state.

  As for Drew’s former minions, they were around. Each went about their own business. Some hauling carts of material to and form different buildings, others sat around small tables under bone porches and spoke amongst themselves.

  Drew and Spock’s presence didn’t go unnoticed. Many of his former minions nodded at him as they walked by, while an occasional one would bow so low that it made Drew feel incredibly uncomfortable. Still, there were some that just chose to ignore his existence, either they didn’t notice him, or perhaps they held their former enslavement against him – or even their current fraught existence.

  He wasn’t sure what made him more uncomfortable; the bows or the snubs.

  I tried to right my wrong as best as I could given the situation.

  There was a [Pillar of Civilization] present as well. How the undead got one, Drew had no idea, but he was glad to see that they were doing okay. Sanctuary and Bonetown had a formal non-aggression pact and open borders, all enforced by The System, but past that… there hadn’t been any trading happening as far as Drew knew.

  Not that that was hugely surprising as the town had taken far longer to build now that the Boneweavers had lost much of their power. In fact, much of the town was still under construction and many of his ex-minions were still coming to terms with their own sapience. Not the best environment for trade.

  Not to mention the locals here had no immediate needs in terms of survival. They didn’t require food, water, warmth or any of the more basic necessities that the other cities tended to trade for.

  “While I do enjoy your company, Drew Wright, may I asked why you invited me to join you in this visit?”

  Drew felt a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, “Because this is my first time here and I feel kinda awkward”

  I’ve been so busy going out with Mark, Amber, and Freya to help Dallas and the surrounding areas that I haven’t had the time to stop by and visit… or maybe I’m just making excuses for myself because of the guilt I still feel over using these people as weapons… a little of column A and a little of column B?

  “I do not understand, Drew Wright,” Spock said as he gave Drew a look of puzzlement.

  “It’s customary to invite close friends to events that are often awkward or unpleasant.”

  “Is that why Beefcake had my outhouse constructed next to his own?”

  Drew’s brows furrowed before he let out a bark of a laugh, “I have no idea, but that’s hilarious.”

  “It is not hilarious, Drew Wright. He speaks to me, through the thin wood walls, while vacating his bowels. It is highly uncomfortable.”

  Uncontrolled laughter broke past Drew’s lips, and despite him attempting to bring it under control, his desire only made the guffawing worse, much to Spock’s chagrin. That same laughter seemed to draw all the attention of the various undead, and it wasn’t long before a skeletal figure, no more than skin and bone, walked up to them wearing a black robe with a white band wrapped around his right bicep.

  “What seems to the problem here?” The undead asked.

  “My friend has found immense humor in my own personal misery,” Spock responded in an annoyed tone.

  “Ha… just…” Drew held up a finger while he braced himself and tried to stand back up from where he was leaned over as his stomach muscles complained, “Just… some… toilet humor,” Drew managed to spit out before a whole new round of laughter broke from his lips.

  “Is he alright? I never saw him act this way while he was my master,” the undead asked, and despite his gravely tone, there was a hint of concern.

  Spock shrugged, “That is a question I’ve been forced to ask myself repeatedly during my time as his companion. I’m inclined to believe that this may be a form of stress relief for him given the immense responsibilities he feels towards the surviving humans.”

  Although Drew had lost himself in the laughter, Spock’s words shot through his skull and quickly dampened his good mood. The former System Guide sure did have the knack for raining on a guy’s parade.

  Drew stood, wiped the tears from his eyes, and ignored his protesting abdominal muscles, “Thanks for ruining the moment, Spock.”

  “My pleasure, Drew Wright,” Spock said with a sly smile.

  Bastard. You win that one.

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  The undead watched the human exchange with a slight tilt to its head, like a child at the zoo. “Creator, what is your business in Bonetown?”

  “I’ve come to see Rex and Steve,” Drew said as he gave Spock a little glare, “and please, just call me Drew.”

  “As you say, Creator. Please, follow me and I will escort you to their office at the Bone Hall.”

  Ugh… well at least it’s not master…

  “Wait, you mean town hall, right?”

  “No, Bone Hall. Better name, same purpose, Creator.”

  Damn… they really did inherit my poor naming sense.

  ***

  “Creator,” Rex said as he greeted Drew with a firm nod.

  “Creator!” Steve said happily, “Have you come to us with a project in mind?”

  “Uh… a project?”

  “Yes, yes. You know, like those rifles you had us design, or the other fantastical—”

  Drew cut him off, “No. At least, I don’t think so. I actually came here because I have a problem and I’m hoping you two might have a solution for me.”

  The meeting was taking place in a, outside of everything being made of bone, normal town hall setting that was appropriate for a settlement of nearly ten thousand undead. If one could call a settlement of thousands of undead normal that is. There were a number of small offices, desk and a main auditorium complete with a stage and several dozen chairs. A few of which they now sat on.

  “What is the problem?” Rex asked.

  “Well, as you know, I originally created you and your peers with the intention of having an army to go save the remaining people of my planet and to eliminate any threats,” Drew began and both of his former minions nodded along, “It was never my intention to create, for lack of a better term, living beings. I misunderstood the information that The System and the gods had shared with me and believed that the resulting minions would simply be intelligent and able to make decisions.”

  “And then you came to the realization that we were more than just smart undead,” Steve added.

  Drew nodded, “Correct. Much to my horror, I found myself a master of an enslaved people. As soon as the immediate threat of the Slosh and Devils were taken care of, I went to Hades and asked him to free you. I don’t regret asking him to do so, as you all deserve to live your lives how you see fit.”

  “But now you’re in the position you were in originally. You need an army,” Steve said. Steve had always been quick on the uptake, so it was of little surprise that the Boneweaver instantly saw Drew’s issue.

  “Yes,” Drew said with a sigh, “As powerful as I am, even with my friends, it would take forever to eliminate all the Incursions and create stability for the people here. As it is, Sanctuary is already stretched extremely thin despite all the towns and small cities uprooting their citizens and joining us. But I refuse to enslave anyone.”

  “You came to us in the hopes of convincing our people to rejoin your army?” Rex asked. His tone was direct, but cautious, and Drew caught a whiff of that caution instantly. He didn’t blame Rex for feeling uneasy either, they had just gained their freedom.

  Drew shook his head, “No. Your people have their freedom and I would not ask that of them. I originally planned to alter my army composition by only using constructed minions, but I kept running into an issue. I’m mortal. My body, and brain cannot handle multitasking of that level. What I need are subcommanders. People who can issue commands on my behalf and create a unified fighting force.”

  And no matter how many times I tried, I kept running into issues, normally in the form my blood flowing from places it’s not meant to. It’s not like I was trying to annoy Hades into being upfront… that just kinda worked out in my favor.

  Three months of near constant experimentation, even while on the road, took a toll on me. I kept hitting a limit, time and time again. There was no answer in sight. It was either become limited by the number of minions I could control without exploding, or enslave people. Neither of which was appetizing.

  “Hmm,” Rex pondered as he paced, “You need beings that would fill the roles of the sergeants, lieutenants, and generals. Otherwise, you risk the army in question being uncoordinated, unresponsive, and ineffective.”

  “Yes,” Drew said, “But as I said, I refuse to enslave anyone. My hope was that some of your people may be willing to fill those limited roles as volunteers. If they are competent enough, I’m hoping to get by with only using the equivalent of captains.”

  “That’s a tall order, Creator. The previous army did well because the command structure was broken down to many levels and each of us were able to think for ourselves. Normal undead would require a lot of supervision,” Steve said as he tapped his chin, which caused a piece of chin to flake off.

  “I have the ability to grant constructed minions animal-like instincts, so that would help, but yes. There would still be a lot of micromanagement involved. Also, could y’all not call me creator or master or anything? It makes me feel really uncomfortable.”

  “He also feels guilty and does not wish to be reminded of his mistake,” Spock piped in for the first time, causing all heads to turn to him.

  Drew hiked a thumb over his shoulder towards Spock, “Yes, and that.”

  “I see… would Warden be an acceptable title then?” Rex asked.

  Huh… yeah, that actually doesn’t make me cringe internally.

  “Yes, that would be fine.”

  “What if we are unable to find any volunteers for your army?” Rex asked.

  That leaves me up shit creek without a canoe. But I won’t force anyone.

  Drew shrugged, “Then there’s nothing that can be done. I’ll either have to restrain myself to a couple hundred constructed minions at best, or become undead myself so I can handle a larger army. Neither option is great, but I’ll work with it if I have to.”

  Rex and Steve looked at each other, and it was apparent there was some form of non-verbal communication happening between them.

  “Warden, if you would excuse us, we would like to confer with our peers. Please remain here as our guest and I’ll have some coffee brought in for you and Mr. Spock,” Rex said.

  Drew nodded his head and the two undead left, leaving Drew and Spock alone in the meeting room. The entire time they had stood, but soon after the undead had left, a new undead entered with two chairs, both made from bone, and a couple of cups of steaming coffee.

  “It appears as though one of the Soulflames that left Sanctuary brought their enjoyment of the bean water with them here,” Spock said as he started down at the pitch-black liquid.

  Drew wasn’t surprised. “I think it’s one of the few things they can ingest and taste.”

  “I believed that to only be the case for Soulflames,” Spock mentioned offhandedly as he took a small sip of the coffee before quickly setting down the cup, “Its temperate is that of lava, Drew Wright, do be careful.”

  Drew chuckled, “Did you burn your tongue?”

  “I do not believe I have a tongue any longer.”

  Spock’s words made Drew smile. The man was eccentric without a doubt, but he had begun to pick up on human culture and interpersonal relationships. Despite the rather bleak situation, Drew took a small amount of pleasure in seeing his friend grow enough to offer humor to comfort him.

  I guess he’s no longer an innocent little duckling… now he’s like a teenager. But uh… without the hormones.

  “Drew Wright, do you truly plan to reduce your army to such a minuscule number, or become undead yourself?”

  Drew sighed and took a sip of his coffee, Spock was right it had been hot, “Honestly, I have no idea man. A small army is better than no army… but the undead part. That’s a tough call. Amber and I have been talking about the possibility of having children and getting turned into a Lich would pretty much ruin that.”

  “Why would being undead prevent you and Mrs. Wright from having offspring?”

  Drew shot a glance towards Spock only to see him smiling smugly to himself.

  “You’re joking.”

  “I am,” Spock nodded, “I remember that conversation in great detail.”

  Ugh, don’t remind me.

  “So, what will you do?”

  “I think I’m fucked either way.”

  “You might even say… boned, Drew Wright?” Spock said with a snicker.

  “Yes, Spock. Boned,” Drew said with a sad smile on his face as he leaned back into the highly uncomfortable bone chair and listened to his back crack in the process, “I guess the question is whether saving everyone is important enough for me to sacrifice my life, and my blood lineage, for.”

  “Your race would change to that of a Lich, and you would lose much of your emotions in the process.”

  “I would, yes. I’d be like Maud.”

  “I miss that woman, Drew Wright. I do wonder if she’s resurrected yet.”

  Drew could only nod. He had a feeling that he’d need to make the most difficult decision of his life soon, and each outcome would have its own personal hell for him to pay. Should he let humanity fend for itself while he focused on keeping Sanctuary and the other local-ish cities safe? Or should he sacrifice everything he had always known, and lose his emotions in the process, to save the world?