The room was riddled with cobwebs at every corner like ghostly veils. An old, threadbare straw mattress rested atop a rundown cot, the only semblance of furniture in the dilapidated room. It was large enough for two people, and straws poked out uncharacteristically through the holes in the mattress. A broken window with shards of glass hanging precariously at the sill invited the fresh earthly air, a natural contrast to the stale air within. The walls were stained and peeled, revealing the rough stone beneath. This was built long before [Umbra] became a thing in the kingdom, so the abode held relics of the past. Even the ceiling bore stains from long-forgotten leaks, and I hoped the rain would spare us some additional problems for the night.

Letitia paused at the bed and let out a sigh. “Don’t you already miss my room?”

“Can’t say I don’t, Letitia. But we have to make do with what we have,” I said, feeling bad for her.

“I don’t dare to check the bathroom,” she said as she sat on the bed, half expecting the dust to engulf the room. Strangely, it was cleaner than it looked.

“Let me do it for you,” I ruffled her hair and walked toward the other door in the room.

“Much cleaner than you anticipated,” I said as I checked the tap for water. “But I don’t think you should take a bath tonight.”

She removed her cloak and sniffed her clothes. “At least give me a change of clothes. And wipe me down if you don’t mind. I’m sweating already.”

I paused, watching her mischievous smile, and sighed. “Can you stop taking advantage of your plight?”

“You should be elated, my undead,” she stripped down her clothes but her underwear and pointed at the backpack. “I am very tired, so be quick.”

I opened up her supplies and placed some toiletries beside the bed before searching for a towel. Once I found it, I walked to the bathroom and returned with a wet towel. Letitia stretched out her hands as I approached her and climbed onto me, wrapping her arms around my neck, clinging tightly.

“Wasn’t I supposed to wipe you down?” I asked, rubbing the back of her head. 

“Yeah,” she said weakly, resting her head on my shoulder. “But you like my smell, don’t you?”

I sighed and dropped her on her cloak. She was burning. I wiped her down in one swoop before her mischievous hands could strip me down and gave her a change of clothes. She wore them disapprovingly and, before long, was completely out cold.

I rubbed my forehead against her and walked out of the room after casting [Ward]. At this rate, it didn’t seem like we could continue our journey tomorrow. She would need a couple of days to ride her mare again. 

The boisterous crowd was drinking ale like there was no tomorrow. They were noisy, and I subdued my urge to shut them up for good. The counter was empty, and the inn owner was nowhere to be found. I walked to the kitchen, and an aroma of spices greeted my nose long before the cook did.

“Smells amazing, but do you think Letitia should be eating such heavily flavored soup?” I asked, taking a loaf of bread from the basket. 

Garlan was at the hearth, and the roaring fire cracked, casting a warm glow across the room. I poured some mana into the lamps and took a seat on the table. It creaked under my weight, and I was forced to cast [Umbra] and mend it once and for all. 

Long wooden tables ran along the length of the large room cluttered with various assortment of utensils and ingredients from the forest. Fragrant herbs were tied in bunches, and there was enough meat cut into pieces, waiting to be stewed or roasted. The kitchen floor was a patchwork of polished stones that glittered in the glow of the mana lamps. A sink at the corner was filled with unwashed utensils, an obvious indication of pathetic, selfish mortals. 

“I already made her soup,” he pointed at the earthenware beside the hearth. “Didn’t want to see my bread lad getting laid, so I decided not to come upstairs. I don’t think you should be rough on her when she is sick.”

I sighed. “If at all, I am the one you should be worried about.”

Garlan laughed and spurned the huge cauldron with the large ladle. 

“Are you preparing a meal for the whole house?” I asked, looking at the quantity of the soup.

Garlan stared at me, flabbergasted. “This is my portion. And maybe yours too, if I’m full before I wipe the stains off the cauldron. How do you mortals survive on so little food? This immortal Garlan doesn’t understand.”

I chuckled and grabbed a tray from the nearby shelf. “I’ll check up on Letitia and join you for dinner later. Keep some loaves for me.”

“Rest assured,” Garlan said. “Bread should be shared, and even I obey the law unconditionally.”

Honestly, I didn’t trust his stomach. 

I grabbed a couple of loaves, placed them on the tray along with the soup, and walked back to the first floor. This time, though, the sturdy men stopped me. There were eight of them, all dunk.

“You look like a rich brat,” the big one said. Multiple scars ran across his face, and he appeared ferocious when compared to me. “Pay some shins and be on your way.”

The door opened simultaneously, and I saw the innkeeper step in. The man snickered and settled on his seat, watching the woman warily. Perhaps she had instilled enough fear in these wastrels that they didn’t dare to mess with anyone inside these premises.

I nodded at the innkeeper and continued climbing the stairs to my room. When I opened the door, I heard Letitia’s labored breath, and her forehead was draped in cold sweat. I placed the tray beside the bed, moved closer, and wiped her forehead with my sleeves.

“Letitia,” I whispered, caressing her face with my land. “I bought you some food.”

She held my hand, but her eyes were shut tightly. Her nails bore into my wrist, and they started bleeding long before she awoke with a start. Her gaze darted around the room in confusion, and wrapped her hands around me when she noticed my presence.

“Another nightmare?” I asked, caressing her head.  Her breathing was ragged, but it began to slow down as she buried her face in my bosom. 

“Drew blood again, didn’t I?” she said weakly, glancing at her nails and then at my hand. 

“I’m undead, Letitia,” I laughed and flicked her forehead. 

She kissed my wrist and looked into my eyes. “Doesn’t change the fact that I hurt you.”

We never really talked about her nightmares. She didn’t want to share it, and I never probed. But I knew the content of her nightmares more or less because I had been there at one point. 

The mortal psyche was a weak thing, and only psychopaths were a notch above ordinary mortals. My lady wasn’t one, so every time she tried to steal the life force ever so little, she was completely overwhelmed by the darkness that came with it. 

If you thought life force entailed only immortality, allow me to educate your ignorance. Within every mortal is the greed to live, to survive, to outlast the rest. And this doesn’t change even if a mortal is about to die. So stealing life force comes with every damn ounce of resentment, hate, and anger, which are enough to subdue an ordinary mortal. 

“I brought some food for you,” I changed the topic and placed the tray beside her on the mattress. 

Letitia ran her hands over my hair and kissed me. “I’m sorry. I can’t begin to fathom your battles with these nightmares. You were alone and a decade younger than me.”

“But I was a gifted mage, Letitia,” I fed her a spoonful of the soup. “And the pain wasn’t something I cared much about, so you could say I was the perfect mortal to learn the secrets of immortality.”

“Why don’t you complain for once?” She asked as she gulped another spoonful of soup. “You accept everything as if there is nothing you could have done about it. No one is stopping you from throwing tantrums and from cursing the shit out of this world. For once, you should let it all out.”

I smiled. “Since you already do that for me, I don’t have to do that.”

“You are so unfair,” she said my name and softly hit my chest. “I don’t care if I deserve you, but you aren’t escaping me for an eternity. And mind you, eternity is a long time.”

I chuckled and made her finish the bowl before she could talk anymore.

It didn’t long for her to fall asleep the second time, but her fever hadn’t subsided in the least. That was going to take some time, so I drained the mana lamps and left the ramshackle abode. Well, at least it was something.

Garlan was already at one of the tables, this time a few pieces of roasted meat added to the assortment of dishes. The rest of the men stayed as far away from him as they could.

“Scared them shitless, huh?” I laughed, taking a seat opposite him. 

“Not worth my time,” he grinned, rubbing the blood on his lips. 

He had prepared two sets of cutlery on the table, and roasted meat garnished with some vegetables adorned my plate. There were enough loaves of bread on the table, their golden crush still warm and inviting. A jug of ale sat on his side, along with some garlic and ginger, which he was crushing to add to the ale. The thick smell wafted in the air, replacing the otherwise stale stench of the rundown inn. 

“Old hag,” Garlan shouted and beckoned for the innkeeper to come over, “You don’t get to taste my food every day.”

“I don’t eat with strangers,” she said, her eyes already darting to the lavish food on the table.

“Neither do we,” Garlan said with a shrug. “But I will make an exception today. It seems like we’ll be staying here for the next couple of days, so consider this our gratitude for your future hospitality. And, of course, I will be expecting a few jugs of ale in return.”

She walked toward our table, her back bent, and took a seat beside me. The chair almost broke underweight, but Garlan was fast enough to mend it with his spell. 

“Karla,” the woman said, showing her rotting teeth. “That’s my name. Can’t remember the last time I heard it out loud.”

“Karla it is,” Garlan grinned. “I am Garlan, and this is my bread lad, Rudolf Valorat.”

“Drop the title, please,” I sighed and stuffed myself with some bread. “Just Rudolf.”

“Lady of Valorat manor, ey?” she nibbed on the piece of meat and looked at me. “She the legitimate daughter then? Got no sons, I heard.”

Garlan chugged the ale and slammed the jug on the table. “She is,” he said, pointing to me, “This man is her husband. Or will be one soon.”

“What’s your story, Karla?” Garlan asked, placing some meat on my plate.

“Running an inn because I have nothing better to do,” she said. “Don’t get good men like you often here. You going to the border?” 

“To Kalith first,” Garlan said. “Can’t ignore people in need, so I must join the war.”

A blatant lie, but he wasn’t entirely off. 

“Tomorrow, the Sleghogs drop dead on the tables,” Karla said, her eyes downcast. “Scary bunch, but not something I can’t handle. A band of mercenaries riding the inn every fortnight. These pipsqueaks don’t compare to them,” she pointed at the men at huddled in the corner. “Better to steer clear of them than sorry. Ain’t scared of this old hag, they.”

“Sounds like an exciting bunch,” Garlan said. “The more, the merrier!”

My bread lad didn’t drink himself to death and started spinning fictitious tales about his adventures. I left him at the table and walked out of the inn once I was done with my dinner.

Throw a tantrum, huh? I stared at the cloudy sky and smiled. This world would never see another day if I did.