It had been a long time since he took possession of human remains. Especially those which were in such a decayed state, he usually preferred fresher bodies. They were easier to reanimate since it still had muscles which held all bones together; Another downside was the absence of coherent thoughts, old memories and almost all traces of its spirit had left the body months ago, no longer able to take refuge in its brain or flesh. The absence of a mind made it easier to dominate; but it was impossible to learn any information about its past life. The memories would be a pleasant look at what the world looked like. In conclusion, how fresh you would want a reanimated body depends on your goals, he thought.

With the ritual completed, he felt tired; his legs could barely keep his body upright as it has used all his magic. But he could feel the completion through the change in his senses. He felt the cold in the room, and the cold stone twice. In addition, he could see the room through four eyes, covering any blind spots he had before. For new necromancers, it was an overwhelming sensation to feel that much, but Ankhun knew how to shut down all the sensory input of his minions, making him able to switch between his senses and those of his minions. Letting him choose from which body he could watch the world.

When he looked through the skeleton’s eyes, it was as if he looked in a mirror, from which he could study himself. The neglect radiated from his frame; his skin had retreated almost inside his body, barely stopped by his visible bones. His once care for hair and short beard had turned white and sticky. The clothes he was wearing were too large, giving him a combination of a sad and comical look. With a quick blink, his viewpoint switched, and once again he looked at the skeleton through his own eyes.

It was the perfect vessel through which he could explore the world, safe, detached, and unbreakable. Ankhun slowly walked around the skeleton, studying the results of his labor while scratching his beard. Then he stopped and snapped his fingers. He’d forgotten to cast a glamour on it. People rarely liked a skeleton wandering the streets, after all. He reached into his magic pool, but when he tried to draw energy, it was like scooping the bottom of an empty lake. The unpleasant hollowness made him sigh. Leaving today would have been ideal, but what was one day compared to the centuries he had been imprisoned?

After standing in the cellar for a few minutes, he decided how to make use of his extra time. He wanted the behaviour of the skeleton to be as close to that of a living human as he could get. The reason was simple: any amount of attention on his minion could betray his actions, and he did not know if his apprentices had left any surprises. At first, the steps of the puppet were clumsy, as if he threw his legs forward; each time it seemed to collapse, almost falling forward instead of a smooth walk. After a few tries, he was satisfied with the results of his labour and changed to the hand movement, grabbing items inside his study until it looked natural. Then he prepared himself for the hardest part: talking with the skull of the skeleton. At first its voice broke like a boy growing to a man, jumping from low to high, combined with a slight clicking noise overwhelming the conversation. But even this he learned quickly again, since once you learn something, it is hard to forget.

Then he finally noticed the passing of time, as the sun sank into the horizon and his study became filled with bright orange beams of light. The dancing rays signalling the beginning of the night. He forced the skeleton to march outside his study and used it for guard duty. For a moment he stood in front of the giant glass windows, admiring the view; a sunset is an image you never tire of. Then he sank into his chair, making himself comfortable while he closed his eyes. But after a moment of tossing and turning, he realised sleep wouldn’t come easily tonight.

One question burned in his mind, keeping his brain going over scenarios, not able to shut itself off. What would the world look like after a few centuries? A few of his memories rose to the surface. The swollen bellies of children who attacked each other for a loaf of bread, with the rich nobleman laughing in the background. The rows of fallen soldiers, still boys, so that their lord could conquer a few 100 meters of ground. Ankhun forced the images away; surely it would be better? Better ways to grow and distribute food, maybe? Or a way to cure rotten wounds without magic? As hope grew in his stomach, a warmth spread through his body as he finally drifted into sleep.

The surrounding chill had covered his skin in goosebumps when he woke up. A few glowing coals fought to keep the fire alive, losing the fight against the elements. As he stood up, the first few beams of light entered the room. He tossed a log of wood on the fire, which immediately started bright red flames to appear again. While warming his hands in front of the fire, he reached for his magic again, as he discovered his pool had replenished.

He called his minion towards him and called his magic forward, which wrapped like a spider web around the skeleton. An illusion formed around it, causing it to transform into a simple farmer, wrapped in the plain clothes he was used to. A blue, woolen tunic which came to his knees, tightened by a simple leather belt around the waist. Ankhun didn’t know the clothing trends of the present time, and he could not create something that was unknown to him. With a bit of luck, it wouldn’t betray him or stand out too much.

As he sank into his chair, he checked his stock of food again. It would last him weeks, especially if his body would stay in the same room. In addition, the big logs of wood next to the fire formed a pile big enough to last a similar amount of time. His stomach formed a knot as he switched his senses, exploring the world through his minion, excited to see what had happened to the world outside of his castle.

The farmer left Ankhun’s study and made his way to the neighbouring forest. His first few steps were just as clumsy as before, as Ankhun’s concentration had drifted once again. As he forced his body to sit upright again, his control of the minion returned, and with confidence he entered the forest.

In the forest, the sound of running water became louder as he reached the river again. The sunlight was shining through the trees, and the water reflected it, forming beautiful rainbows. He followed the river until he reached a familiar sight: the lake where he had captured the unfortunate boar. From here, it didn’t take too long before he reached the forest’s edge.

As he stepped out of the forest, he studied the surrounding area. In front of him were multiple hills, covered in green grass and yellow grains; their colours formed a stark contrast with the bright blue horizon. He stood there for a second, trying to figure out where he should go. Then his head stopped as he noticed the grey colour of a road in the distance. He went back into the woods for a while, going through the wood to find a perfect walking stick, and then made his way towards the road. It must lead to a city or village eventually.

After walking for about an hour, the sun had risen high into the air. This had made the shadow of the trees disappear, which caused a welcome warmth to steep trough his clothes. Then the sound of heavy wood clattering against the cobblestones disturbed the calmed, and Ankhun swallowed, which behaviour was reflected in his original body. Would the glamour fool anyone? Had the clothing changed much over the years? While these questions raced through his mind, his muscled tensed. Luckily, he could force his minion to remain calm as it continued walking. Then, after a few seconds, a horse and wagon appeared at the top of the hill in front of him. He wondered if he could convince the raider to take him along; it would make his journey to some civilized part of the kingdom much faster.

The wood creaked and protested as the wagon stopped in front of him, close enough that he could feel the breath of the horses on his face. He walked past the horses and placed himself in front of the rider so that he stood face to face. The owner of the wagon seemed to be a man in his thirties, judging from the few tips of grey that had appeared on his black hair. His clothes betrayed his standings. The colours were bright, not as dull as the colours peasants would wear. He wore sturdy leather shoes which molded around his feet. In addition, he wore breeches and a shirt, both adorned with ornate buttons. Ankhun had a feeling that the man in front of him was not part of the nobility, but a farmer with high standing. Even if the techniques to dye clothes have improved, no farmer had the money to wear buttons that were more akin to jewelry.

Ankhun made a slight bow. “Begging your pardon, sir, I am truly sorry to bother you, but I seem to have lost my way. Is there a possibility you could take me along in your carriage? “

The face of the rider betrayed his annoyance, but Ankhun could feel that his behaviour slightly flattered him, glad that somebody would think him of higher standing.

“You’ve delayed me stopping my carriage like that, peasant. I have important goods to deliver to Aderal. Why would I take extra weight along?” He said, his eyes looking down towards the farmer.

Ankhun knew flattery would work; the man’s pride was plain to see, so he answered. “I am terribly sorry sir, I would gladly help you with unloading your wares if I could ride with you as compensation.”

The rider stroked his chin as he contemplated the offer. Ankhun wasn’t worried; a servant who would do his dirty work was something that would complete his image, and Ankhun was sure he would agree. What bothered him was that he did not know the city called Aderal. It could be a relatively new city?

Then the owner of the carriage replied to his offer. “If you agree to work, you can jump on the back. I could use some help with these heavy loads.”

“May God bless you; I wouldn’t have found the way without your help. Can I ask for your name in the meantime?” Replied Ankun, making a few bows before he climbed aboard the wagon.

“It is Tristan,” he replied in a short, unpleasant voice as he forced the horses to continue their journey.