The townsfolk stayed away from my castle. A long time ago it was because of the whole, you know, being an undead Lich. That was a long time ago, those memories are full of fire and brimstone, pain and death.

Now? You look out over your carefully cultivated vineyard, Scorsby was there watering the grapes and Martin was busy at the other end with what looks like a wheelbarrow full of manure. It has been decades since you had moved on and learned that not everything was about power and death. Nothing like living for hundreds of years to give you the long view.

Sighing, you wish it was not so lonely though. No one mentioned that about being immortal. The power, the glory, sure! Everyone knew about that. What about the fact that you will out live everyone, the erstwhile adventurer who comes to strike you down? You defeat him and in your grace let him live. He settles down, has a few kids. One of them takes up her fathers sword and comes for vengeance. The second time it’s a bit boring, you go through the motions. “How dare you disturb me, who do you think,…The time is now old man…” You send her on her way with a head full of stories and a pocket full of gold for her trouble.

Before you know it, they don’t even bother raising an good old fashion pitchfork mob and come bearing torches. No, you occasionally have to deal with an overzealous tax man but no one mourns his disappearance. He is a tax man, they were born to die.

So whats left? I had been raiding the local graveyard for corpses so old that even their headstones seemed unsure as to who was buried there. That way no one would miss them.

Scorsby was killed over a hundred years ago. He was a great man servant, happy enough and a good chat even though he did have the annoying tendency of forgetting that I had given him his freedom and falls back into the lisping ‘yes master, whatever you say master.” like a good Igor.

I didn’t want an Igor though, I wanted company.

“There is someone at the door master.” Jules said from behind his right shoulder, scaring the unlife out of him.

“Dammit Jules!” I snapped. “What did I say about sneaking up on me?”

“Sorry Master. Can’t help it, it’s in the blood.” Jules said despondently.

Jules was the most Igor-ish of the lot even though she was female. I could tell that she disapproved of me not kidnapping virgins or cackling manically. Also I was fairly sure she was the one who kept putting dribbly candles out everywhere and rusting up all the door hinges so they give off ominous groans from the faintest touch.

“Wait.” Her words registered. “Someone is here? Not another tax collector is it?” I asked hopefully.

“No Master. It’s a young lady with a sword, Master.” Jules waggled her eyebrows suggestively. Considering I didn’t have a lot to work with when I raised her that was a very dangerous thing to do.

“An Adventurer! Excellent, I shall be down at once.” This was exciting!

“Shall I prepare your cloak Master?” Jules asked with hope in her voice.

“No, I won’t be needing a cloak. Also, no organ music when she comes in or loitering around in the corners making groaning noises if you please Jules.”

“As you say Master.” The disappointment was palpable.

A visitor! She must be here to strike down the ancient evil in the castle! Have not had one of those for years now.

I hurried down stairs to the front hall and opened the door. They opened with a creak that seemed to echo forever. Dammit Jules. She would have worked on that for months.

What was presented was a young lady, sword belted across her back, well worn travel leathers and a perfect oval face staring back at me that was doing something to me deep down.

“Yes yes, avast foul fiend.” I said before she could open her mouth. “I know how it goes, please do come in!”

She blinked in surprise.

“What?” She asked finally.

“Sorry, I assume you are here to vanquish me or avenge your great grandfathers death or something?”

“What?” She repeated again, not the quickest on the uptake I could see. To be fair though she was probably expecting to have to storm the castle and fight her way through an army of undead minions before facing off against an Undead Lord, Lich of the Seven Hills, Scourge of the Righteous, Zethum the Decayer. Not have him stand there impatiently motioning her in and while trying to mine ‘get some tea’ to someone making groaning noises off in the corner.

Zethum tried to grin disarmingly at her, although him being a skull he had to grin constantly. “I said, please come in. Are in the avenging trade? Maybe they finally got around to posting another bounty on my head?”

She shook her head slowly, this was all wrong! The stories! Her Grandfather was killed by this monster, he was not invited in for tea and biscuits! She drew her blade. She fell back onto what she knew worked.

“Avast, Scourge! Stand and fight! You killed my Grandfather, Prepare to die!”

The skull showed some emotion then, she was not sure how but he seemed puzzled. “Me? Killed who? I don’t think so young lady!”

He seemed genuinely offended.

She continued as she was feeling very off balance by this whole thing and figured shouting at the skeleton man in the…. night gown? She then noticed the slippers. They were fuzzy and woollen.

Zethum saw her deflate and the sword tip hit the ground.

“Come in child. Lets talk.”

Her name was Dyna Wren, Her Grandfather was Jarad Wren. She lived in the nearby village of Holhaven and had heard stories her whole life of the Lich Lord Zethum in the High Castle. About how her Grandfather Jarad Wren had gone to confront him one day and never returned. Presumed murdered and raised again for a life of unholy servitude in the Decayer’s army!

“Ahhh Jarad! Yes, fetching young man.” Zethum said as the servant Jules poured some more tea. “Had an arm like a canon. Speared me straight through the chest from a clear 50 paces away.”

“Then you killed him?” Dyna tried again.

“Ohh, of course not! We got talking. Turns out the young man was having some trouble at home. He just needed someone to vent to about his arranged marriage. One thing lead to another and before long we were both ferstucken on my best vintage.” Zethum got a lost look, somehow, on his skull and lapsed into silence.

Dyna watched as Jules drifted into the shadows in the corner of the great hall and gave a few hopeful groans. This snapped Zethum out of his reverie with a glare.

“Jules, what did I say about that in front of guests?”

“Yes, Master.” Jules lisped from across the room and flounced off, the badly attached limbs and skin following a beat behind.

“You didn’t kill him? You don’t have him forced into unholy servitude under your thrall?’ There was a lot of hope in that voice.

‘Sorry to disappoint. I am no longer in the thralling business really.’ Zethum felt he had to apologise to that kicked puppy face. ‘Jared was a good chap. Sorry to say but he said he came here because he needed the reward money. I had a price on my head back then!’

‘Why did grandfather need money?’ Dyna asked, she knew she shouldn’t be trusting the Scourge of the Righteous. However she was finding it incredibly difficult to distrust someone who was absentmindedly brushing the biscuit crumbs that were falling through his skull off his monogrammed nightgown.

‘Once we got talking he, well this might be a delicate I’m sorry.’ Zethum paused. Dyna had no idea what a Lich might find ‘delicate’. She motioned for him to continue.

‘Well, he was not exactly happy with his marriage he said. With the reward money he wanted to take off and follow his dream. So I think it was about four bottles in when I suggested that I give him the money. I knew his pride would not allow him to just accept the money so I said it was patronage. I would support him while he got started and he would provide me with his works.’

‘Patron? Works? Wait, so he didn’t die? He just took the money and left grandma!?’ Dyna was struggling to keep up.

‘Sorry again, yes. We sobered up the next day, Jarad was sure it was just drunken rambling however I kept my side of the agreement. I got Jules to furnish him with some new clothes, some gold and saw him off in the afternoon. He has been sending me paintings ever since.’

‘Paintings?’ Dyna was beginning to feel lightheaded. This was too much. Her Grandfather had not died at the hands of the ruthless Lord of the Seven Hills. They had gotten smashed together and then Grandfather had run off to become a painter?

‘Yes, that was his real dream. Shame though, the man is terrible at it. I am running out of places to hide the damn things. However he still seems happy with it all.’

‘HE IS STILL ALIVE!?’

‘I received his most recent work around a month ago actually, so I assume so. Unless someone else is imitating terrible paintings of farm animals?’ Zethum turned slightly ‘Jules?’

‘Yes, Master.’ Jules lisped from behind Zethum’s chair.

‘Gah!’ Zethum exclaimed ‘Ahh Jules, could you please fetch the most recent Jared please?’

‘Yes Master.’

‘You would think I would be used to it by now…’ Zethum muttered. He then noticed just pale and drawn Dyna was looking. ‘Ohh my dear, I am sorry. This is all a bit much for you, did you want to see it?’

Her Grandfather was alive, he was a painter. This grinning bone man was not the undead horror she had heard stories of. Just what else was fake? The room started to waver and spin.

‘No fainting please my Dear, it does something primordial to me.’ Zethum said.

Gripping the chair tightly Dyna manage to bring herself back with effort as Jules returned, carrying a large painting in both hands. Revealing it with a flourish that was completely wasted on the actual work. It was mainly brown. Brown trees, a sad looking brown cow, even the sheep that looked like they were longing for the slaughter house were in shades of brown.

‘Terrible isn’t it? I have a whole room of them now.’ Zethum continued. ‘He sends me one every three moons without fail.

Dyna stared at the painting. Dyna had spent her life learning the skills of adventuring, honing the sword work. Fighting monsters, protecting the village, ranging further and further until she was confident to avenge her Grandfather and kill Zethum the Decayer. Instead her Grandfather was alive somewhere and happily painting horrible things.

Dyna met Zethum’s empty sockets and held them before asking ‘Where is he?’

Zethum felt sorry for Jared for what he saw in those eyes. Whatever happened though, it would not be boring.