News of what had happened on the Dunsimmons farm spread through Dramir like wildfire. Within days, the group of protesters outside the house had swelled to double in size, chanting and yelling at passersby.

　　"Work is for the living!"

　　"Evil magic makes evil deeds!"

　　"No necrofood on my table!"

　　Jeremiah snuck a glance through the curtains. "They don`t seem happy that I helped Dunsimmons."

　　"We don`t need their approval," Delilah said, pouring over the morning mail. "We just need more opportunities, and there`s always someone willing to take advantage of free labor. For example," she extracted a letter from the pile and read aloud, "If Dunsimmons can cheat, then so can I. The Limpton Farm has work to do and the bodies to do it.` See? Your work with Dunsimmons is already paying off!"

　　A day later, Jeremiah stood beside Mr. Limpton in the middle of the Limpton family graveyard. Delilah had sent Bruno to accompany Jeremiah in her stead, and he was looking around with barely concealed mirth. The family graves had been exhumed and the old bones lay exposed beside piles of fresh dirt, several generations` worth.

　　"My great great grandpappy worked this farm." said Mr. Limpton, punctuating each sentence by thumping the butt of his spade into the ground. "So did my great grandpappy, my grandpappy, my pappy, all their womens, and all my uncles and aunties too. I need help harvesting, and if they worked it once they can work it again!"

　　"Oh wow, that is dark," Bruno said, laughing.

　　"Are you sure?" Jeremiah asked the farmer. "They`re just going to be skeletons. They`re not going to—"

　　Mr. Limpton cut him off. "I know what skeletons are, you vile freak! I`m not looking for a family reunion, I just want my beets pulled. And if you want your letter, you`ll get it done."

　　Jeremiah sighed. Soon an entire family tree of skeletons was wrist-bone deep in soil, yanking beets out of the ground. Their boney fingers were perfect for sifting the soil for objects, although they frequently pulled up stones.

　　Mr. Limpton didn`t mind, he just cackled as his new workforce toiled. "Back bothering you now, Uncle John?! That trick knee acting up again?! Not feeling too sickly now, are you?!" He had comments for several of the skeletons.

　　Bruno watched with a wide smile on his face. "This is so twisted, I love it." He draped an arm around Jeremiah`s shoulders. "These folks might not like you, but they can`t argue with the results, can they?"

　　Jeremiah watched as his undead clawed through the soil and fought back his sense of dread at Bruno`s words. "Hopefully not."

　　The protesters grew more furious, but their ire could not stem the flow of jobs that had sprung. The farmers of Dramir scrambled to figure out how to use this new resource—Jeremiah yanked out stumps using undead oxen, commanded zombie draught horses to haul many times their normal loads, and on one particularly nauseating occasion, instantly reduced dozens of hog corpses to meat slurry. The farmers spat at him or used evil warding signs, but they wrote their letters and Delilah submitted them to the Seven Judges.

　　The drudgery of the work began to wear on Jeremiah. The courts provided no feedback on whether he was making progress, but he had no choice besides continuing to follow the orders of people who called him evil before counting their profits.

　　One evening, resting in the living room after a long day of relocating an inconvenient graveyard, Jeremiah noticed Allison orbiting him. She would enter the room, then pretend to remember something and leave again. Jeremiah wondered what could make someone like Allison so hesitant, but forced himself to be patient.

　　Finally, Allison dropped onto the couch beside him. She stared into the dark fireplace and took a deep breath. "I`ve got an old soldier friend. Actually old. He`s dying. He always dreamed of falling in battle, sword in hand, but now he`s too weak to even lift a sword. He heard about you, and he wants you to make him a zombie so he can fight one last time."

　　"He won`t—"

　　"He understands he won`t be in control," she continued quickly, "but it`s as close as he can get. I`ve agreed to be the one that fights him."

　　Jeremiah stared at her, mouth agape.

　　Allison wrung her callused hands. "I`ve looked up to him for a long time. He taught me to fight with a battleaxe and he`s a good soldier. I&want to do him this honor. Will you help?"

　　She turned to him with such a plaintive look that Jeremiah`s heart ached. "Yeah, I can do that."

　　Allison threw her arms around him. "Thank you, Jay! This means so much to me. I`ll let you know when it`s time, it won`t be long."

　　It wasn`t long at all. Two days later, Jeremiah accompanied Allison to the warrior`s guild hall. Long tables had been pushed against the walls, leaving a wide-open space in the center. Dozens of men and women wearing either armor or black attire gathered at one end of the hall. At the other lay a withered man in repose, clad in ornate armor and clasping a sword at its chest. Though the face was gaunt and pale, Jeremiah could almost see the man as the corpse once was, strong-jawed and stern. Flowers and trinkets had been placed around the body, mementos from a long life among close friends.

　　The funeral began as usual, with a series of eulogies from his friends and family and a priest-led prayer. Then Allison, fully armored, stepped to the center of the room. "Ser Jacob was a special man to us all," she said, her voice clear and dignified. "He was patient, loyal, and an admirable soldier. His death is no tragedy—his life was long and well-lived. By now, you are all aware of his last request. It`s one I will have the honor of fulfilling, but he would understand if some of you would prefer not to watch. We will begin momentarily. Please take this opportunity to say your farewells if you wish to leave."

　　Several people left, some ushering confused children, but many more stayed. Allison drew her sword, stood at attention in the center of the hall, and nodded to Jeremiah. "Rise, Ser Jacob! Stand in battle, one last time!" she said.Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

　　Jeremiah cast the spell as subtly as he could, reaching his focus towards Ser Jacob`s body.

　　Rise.

　　The pale form of the spent warrior clambered from its place of rest, to gasps around the room. It gripped the sword that lay on its chest in one hand and took slow, dignified steps toward Allison. Remembering Delilah`s comment about the horses, Jeremiah focused hard on making the zombie`s normally stiff, unnatural gait as fluid as possible. He struggled, totally focusing his will on a single bubble seemed to only give him the barest improvement in finesse. Jeremiah commanded the zombie to stop a few paces away.

　　Allison drew a solemn breath, then snapped a sharp salute. She and Jeremiah had planned the fight`s choreography. The zombie`s salute snapped just as crisp as Allison`s—the muscle memory of that motion was very strong.

　　Allison readied her sword in a well-practiced stance. Jeremiah found that the zombie settled fluidly into the same stance with only the barest hint of a command. An alarm sounded in the back of Jeremiah`s mind, but he couldn`t decipher its warning as he concentrated on the next step of the ceremony.

　　Atta-

　　He hadn`t even finished thinking the command before the zombie leaped forward with a thrust aimed at Allison`s throat. Allison parried the blow, but just barely—even knowing what was coming, the attack came with surprising speed.

　　Jeremiah prepared to sever the connection upon Allison`s thrust to Ser Jacob`s chest. There was no need to dismember Ser Jacob in front of his friends and family. But as she performed what should have been the final blow, Ser Jacob performed his own parry, stepped towards her, and punched Allison in the mouth, sending her sprawling across the ground.

　　Jeremiah had not commanded the zombie to do any such thing. The extent of the old warrior`s muscle memory dawned on him—these counters weren`t just well-practiced, they were instinct. Muscles primed from a lifetime of dedication and repetition to react at the slightest stimulus and follow complex patterns.

　　Allison righted herself and shook her head. Her lip was bleeding. The crowd shuffled nervously, but Allison laughed. "You always loved that counter, didn`t you?" Jeremiah detected a note of excitement in her voice.

　　Allison swung her blade into Ser Jacob`s, attempting to deflect it. There was a ring of steel against steel, and Ser Jacob followed the momentum of the blow, spinning in a smooth two-step to dodge Allison`s follow up thrust, and answered with a slash at Allison`s neck. Allison raised her shoulder and leaned into the blow, letting her armor take the hit. Then she whirled and thrust again from a low position, in a maneuver that Jeremiah wouldn`t be able to imitate if he saw it a hundred times.

　　Allison`s blade pierced Ser Jacob`s doublet, and Jeremiah sensed a wound delivered to the zombie. He severed the connection. Ser Jacob fell to the ground and Allison extracted her sword, bloodless thanks to the work of morticians. She snapped a salute one last time, and Jeremiah caught a glimmer of tears in her eyes. Several people in the crowd saluted as well.

　　"Rest now, Ser Jacob," said Allison "Your fight is finished." She sheathed her sword and replaced Ser Jacob`s blade on his chest. Four pall bearers collected his remains, carefully placing the body onto a stretcher to return it to its gentle repose. With the ceremony concluded, the crowd began to chat, reminisce, and comfort each other. Allison, on the other hand, grabbed Jeremiah and roughly pulled him outside.

　　"What the FUCK was that?" she asked in the relative privacy of the side alley. "How did you make him move like that? You don`t know anything about third position`s counter cut, or how to roll through a deflection!"

　　Jeremiah explained the principle of muscle memory, and Allison`s face softened as she understood what had happened. Her tension left with a sigh, and she sank to sit against the wall. Jeremiah joined her.

　　"I actually liked it," she said. It was an admission of guilt. "Feeling him fight the way he used to? Took me back." They sat in silence for some time. Allison eventually put her hands on her knees like she was about to stand but stopped short. "Do you think I`d make a good zombie?"

　　Jeremiah had already considered this question. "I think you`d make an amazing zombie."

　　Allison laughed, "Damn right."

　　The door opened again, and one of the funeral attendees stood at attention before them. He held himself with a military stiffness and wore a regaled uniform.

　　Allison rose to her feet and raised a hand in a salute. "Colonel. How can we help you?"

　　The man returned her salute. "I actually think I might be able to help you, Mr. Thorn. My name is Colonel Valen of the Dramir Army. Do you have a moment to chat?"

　　An image of a hook and a fish popped into Jeremiah`s head. "Uh, sure. What is it?" A fragment of memory told him he`d seen this man before. After a moment, he realized Colonel Valen had been in the audience at Jeremiah`s trial.

　　"Mr. Thorn, I`ve been following your movements closely since your sentencing. I will admit I was skeptical at first about your ability to meet the court`s demands. But I believe you may be honest in your endeavors, and I would like to provide you with an&opportunity for an opportunity. Something that would see you making significant progress toward repaying your debt to society."

　　"I don`t think I owe society anything. You`ll have to explain opportunity for an opportunity, though. That sounds flimsy." Jeremiah wondered what Vivica would say to this man, and decided to keep his guard up.

　　"Mr. Thorn, far to the north of us is the city of Nosirin. Are you familiar with it?"

　　"I am." He offered no further details.

　　"Splendid," said Colonel Valen. "We`re currently aiding Nosirin in dealing with a small incursion of savage peoples from the nearby mountain range. This is nothing new, of course, but they`ve become rather more troublesome lately. After your demonstration today, I believe I can offer you a permanent solution to your situation."

　　"Jeremiah`s no soldier," said Allison, frowning.

　　"We have plenty of soldiers," said Colonel Valen. "Mr. Thorn, your particular talents are far more valuable than anyone in this city has realized. My proposal may lead to a chance to prove it. Of course, I cannot offer any guarantees, as it is the courts that decide whether your sentence is satisfied. But given the backing of a colonel and the gratitude of Nosirin, you`ll have no better chance at success."

　　Jeremiah didn`t love the idea of joining some military conflict, but the bait wriggling at the end of this hook was tempting. He tried not to show it, though. "We seem to have skipped over the part where you explain opportunity for an opportunity`."

　　"Of course. To be blunt, you are still considered a rogue element in Dramir, Mr. Thorn. Many people still do not trust you. In order to provide you the chance to demonstrate your value, I would need to present evidence of your commitment to Dramir beyond plowing a few fields. Something that shows you are willing and able to put yourself in danger to protect the city`s interests."

　　"Sounds like you have a suggestion?" asked Jeremiah.

　　"I do. I know of a task that fulfills that very goal. It is sensitive information, however, and I would require your commitment before divulging details."

　　Jeremiah gave a hollow laugh. "I don`t need my counselor to tell me not to agree to things without knowing what they are. What exactly are you getting out of this, Colonel? I can`t imagine you`re just a fan of my work."

　　"He`s angling for a promotion to General," said Allison, smirking. "He thinks if he can turn a political nuisance into a military asset, he can take credit."

　　Colonel Valen returned Allison`s smirk. "You were a former Captain, yes? I remember from the trial. My ambitions are now, and always will be, for the continued prosperity of Dramir. I will do what I feel is in her best interests, and I have the vision to see beyond the populace`s fear. I would hope that would be appreciated."

　　It did feel good to be recognized by someone with power, but Jeremiah didn`t need to admit that. "I`ll think about it."

　　"Very good. Your counselor may contact me when you are ready to discuss it further. Until then, I wish you luck with your farming." Colonel Valen turned down the alley, disappearing into the night.

　　"You know that guy?" Jeremiah asked, once they were alone again.

　　"By reputation, mostly," said Allison. "Ambitious, but hardly the worst the army has to offer. Obviously, he`s hoping to take advantage, but I don`t think he`d double cross us. What are you thinking?"

　　Jeremiah chewed his lip. "I don`t know about joining the military, but it sounds like a straight shot to getting some higher ups on my side. Though there`s this whole other layer of proving my commitment to Dramir` first. That could be anything."

　　Allison nodded. "Let Delilah know what he said, but hopefully what you`re already doing will turn out to be enough. I don`t want you getting mixed up in some officer`s career plans if you don`t have to."