Lowlife, Scoundrel, Bandit Queen

Chapter 181 181 - Leftovers and odd jobs

Now that I'm somewhat certain that there is no more immediate threat to my life I set about exploring the ruin the necromancer lich made her home a little more thoroughly. She repurposed at least one of the buildings after all and while I'm not too excited about rummaging through a dead woman's belongings, which to a good part seem to consist out of other dead people, I wouldn't say no to a small treasure. Something other than the throne anyway.

For the most part the outer perimeter of the yard is littered with old, sun bleached bones. I already spotted these before and I don't look at them too closely now. Most are human sized. Some seem to be of children too. The inhabitants of this town, slaughtered in their last refuge? Some of the skeletons are of the much larger cyclops too, so the people here didn't go down without putting up a fight.

I don't see any riches worth mentioning though. No jewelry or the likes. Only some rusty arms and armor all which already seem to be coming apart due to the ravages of time. Maybe that is just as well. It makes me wonder though. Didn't Bianka raise any more skeletal minions because she couldn't? Or because the rest of the skeletons was already in too bad a shape? I'm starting to suspect that it might have been the latter. Well, I probably shouldn't question the circumstances and be thankful for small favors instead.

The gear the skeletons she raised wore really is among the best to still be found around here. I don't think taking any of it back to town will be worth the effort though. Not even the trash collectors would give me more than a few pennies for a backpack full of rusty scrap like that, thus I don't even bother.

Instead I turn my attention to the ground floor rooms of the other buildings around the yard. It turns out that I'm right. The one room she turned into an alchemical workshop isn't the only one she converted. There is another less pleasant realization too though. Apparently she wasn't just bullshitting me when she talked about boiling my meat off my bones and dealing with other adventurers before.

I come across a room with a number of skeletons in separate clay pots. The bones all exceptionally clean but not bleached by the sun. And in a pile by the door, their mixed gear, some of it older, some newer. I swallow hard as I see the guild tags dangling from a knife driven through the plaster and into a crack in between two stone blocks.

This really isn't a pleasant surprise. A long sigh escapes my mouth as I run my fingers through my hair while I think on what to do with those. Sure, I can return the guild tags to the guildhall. That is no trouble at all. With all the records they keep the adventurers' guild surely has a register with members that have gone missing too. I have no clue if it'll really matter, but maybe it'll provide some closure to someone. Returning those tags surely won't hurt at least.

That's not all though. There are their mortal remains too. I can't just leave those. The idea alone feels wrong. Sure with the lich off that throne the general undead problem of the frontier should eventually fix itself, but still, those adventurers deserve a proper burial. If anything that is long overdue already.

My gaze comes to rest at a shovel in the pile of gear. Then it wanders to the guild tags again. I sigh again. I have the means, I know their names and I'm not exactly in a hurry either. Fine, I'll dig a grave for those poor sods. I can even engrave their names into that big wooden shield and use it as a grave marker of sorts. And Fox listened to my prayer when I asked them to consecrate a new temple. Hopefully they'll grant me the same boon when I ask them to consecrate the grave site. Yes, that sounds like it's the right thing to do. I nod to myself and grab the shovel, before I turn to the arrayed clay pots to bow my head.

"I'll borrow that for a moment. I'll be back in a bit. I hope you don't mind, but digging a good grave will take while."

Despite my words I'm not off right away. Before I leave I take a moment to measure the jars holding the bones, using my forearm as a reference. Since they already are sorted into individual containers I might as well bury them like that. It'll help make sure the bones don't get mixed up. It's not like a real urn after a cremation, as is most common at Riverrun's graveyard these days, but it's better than nothing. It's also the best I can do right now. It'll make carrying the mortal remains of these poor souls to their hopefully actual final resting place much easier too.

The jars are just barely small enough that I should be able to carry them, one at a time, without too much trouble. I lift one to make sure before I finally leave to look for a nice place. Some place with soft earth and without too many roots. If it comes with a decent view, all for the better, but that's already only a secondary constraint for my search.

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

Thus I'm off, following the intended path this time, to get a look at it too. I circle around the inside of the wall once and head out across the bridge. Once I reach the shore I follow one of the alley running mostly parallel to it instead of walking along the shore directly. I need to figure out a path I can use while carrying those makeshift urns later after all. I even clear some of the larger ferns growing here to make it easier.

Once I leave the buildings and the scattered stones immediately beyond them behind I move away from the lake too, at least a bit. I don't want the grave I intend to dig to fill with water right away. Even less so while I'm still standing inside, digging it. That wouldn't be very fun at all. I clear some more of the undergrowth along the way to mark the path until I finally find a spot that seems suitable. Well away from the lake's shoreline. Not too many rocks as far as I can tell. No trees closer than five paces. Yes, this looks good.

Nodding to myself I get working. First I clear the top layer of fertile soil, with grass and moss growing thick on it. I try to keep it in one piece so I can use it afterwards to cover the spot again later. One pace by two paces. That should be big enough, with a little wiggle room even.

With the grass and a thick layer of healthy dark soil set aside in several large pieces I take my first break. Not just because I'm getting a little sweaty either. No I have to figure out another important detail. How deep am I going to dig? It's not like I'm hiding a body here that I don't want dug up by wild animals. I'm just burying clean bones, essentially in closed urns. I don't think I need to worry about bears or boars. Half a pace or a little more should do it. So, a little more than knee deep?

I nod to myself once again and get back to work. At first I feel like congratulating myself to figuring out how to avoid unnecessary work. That is until I realize how much back breaking work digging a hole of this size still is. At least it turns out that I was right about the ground. Even though the soft dark earth takes on a lighter color quickly as I dig deeper, turning into loam soon enough, there are no big roots or stones to slow me down.

Still, it's hard work. It puts the shoddy graves on Hangman's Hill into a new perspective as well. I don't like the way things were handled there still, but I'm starting to understand why not more care was put into making sure the criminals buried in the place wouldn't come back to haunt the town. Especially as it probably wasn't an easy to pick up problem at first.

By the time I'm satisfied with the hole in the ground I'm sweaty. Like, real sweaty. And thirsty! Of dear goodness am I thirsty! Which brings me face to face with my next problem. I haven't boiled the water in my bottle yet. I don't want to drink it before that is done either. The logical conclusion? I have to suffer for a little longer.

I leave the shovel here by the freshly dug grave and head to the lake to wash my hands. Afterwards I'm off to my prepared campsite, where I quickly start a fire. It's much easier this time around with the preparations already made, including enough tinder and kindling at hand. I barely take note of my [Survival] skill making a little progress as I place my metal water bottle close to the fire once it's burning.

The wait after that is pure torture. First I have to wait for steam to begin rising from the open bottle. And afterwards I have to wait for the water to cool down a little again. After all burning my tongue, or my mouth or throat for that matter, is not on my list of activities scheduled for today.

Finally though, I can slake my thirst and the water really isn't bad at all. It's neither a refreshing beer nor a soothing tea of course, but it wets my parched lips and, even if just briefly, fills my stomach. I drink the whole bottle in short order to replenish the liquid I lost sweating. Water alone won't do in the long run of course, but right now it hits the spot. I can eat another mushroom stew with cheese, including its salty crust later to take care of the rest.

First I make another trip to the lake though to refill the bottle and boil it right away while the fire is still burning. That way I'll have water ready to drink the next time the thirst hits me real hard. No more torturous waits! Just mind numbing and back breaking, torturous work.

Never mind though. First, while the bottle is heating again, I take the chance to rest up. Unlike before, when my thirst was still prominent on my mind, I now actually can relax. I even entertain the idea of meditating some more, but in the end I decide against it. Yes, I have some spare time, but not that much spare time.

Once the fire is out and the bottle of water is back to cooling down I return to work. I still got to get things done while I have plenty of daylight! The next order of business? Hauling urns! I carry the clay containers full of bones to their new resting place one by one. By the time I'm getting done there is actually a pretty well trodden path.

The four big jars fit into the fresh dug pit nicely, as estimated even with room to spare, especially regarding depth. Filling the grave back in turns out to be a little more tricky than digging it though. Especially due to the jars' well rounded contours. I have to be really careful about this step too, as unnecessary hollows may make it collapse later. Sure, I don't mind if it settles a little in the days, weeks or even years to come. I just don't want it to happen while I'm still busy working on it.

Eventually though The last of the lose dirt is back in place and I put the fertile top soil with the grass back on top. Or rather, I arrange it around the little grave hill, leaving the top bare for now. I'll put some stones there to support the grave marker I intend to carve. That will still have to wait a little though. I still need to carve that thing first after all. I'll hold off with consecrating the site too until it is in place. It feels like that is the proper order of things.

For now I'm taking my leave. I place my hand atop the grave mound before I turn to head back to the fortified island one more time.

"Don't worry. I'll be back tomorrow to consecrate your resting place. I just need to make some final preparations."