Dead Tired 1 (Dead Tired #1)

by RavensDagger

The Sect of the Richest Earth. Ah, a cult. Wonderful. I did like cults, they made for morally unambiguous test subjects.

“Word of Divinity: Animate Death Butler.” The actual, original spell was designed to create death knights. Fearsome warriors empowered by the divine to fight for the causes of the less scrupulous gods. I never needed knights though. On the other hand, a good butler was incredibly useful to have, so I had tweaked the spell a little over time.

“Yes, Papa.” “Please don’t call me that,” I said absently. “Perhaps use one of my titles? Lord of Bones? Father of Magic?” “Magic Bone Daddy.” My fingers twitched. “Harold. Call me Harold.”

I could teleport the girl over the lake. Perhaps by casting Yeetus Annoyus—a spell developed by an old colleague to dismiss certain students of his—to fling her away harmlessly.

I always tried to maintain a certain level of decorum and politeness. More often than not, asking nicely for something would get it to you without you having to march an army to someone’s door.

Some people believed that zombies were unclean and dangerous, but those people had never conducted proper research into the matter. In fact, dead bodies were less likely to spread sickness than living ones. They didn’t sneeze on people nearly as much.

Moving about with an army behind me was usually very pleasant. It was a great way to avoid a great number of bureaucratic issues. No travel papers? No problem if you had an army.

I’d heard someone say that the only two certainties in life were death and taxes. Obviously they had never tried applying an army of the undead to those trying to collect those taxes.

“Do you think they’d ambush us?” I asked. “That would be very rude and very dumb,” Alex said. “So yes.”

Warlocks were generally one of the types of casters that I respected the least. After bards, of course.

I hadn’t seen such a mercenary system for blessings since I’d visited the temple of Gacha, the god of greedy merchants.

“I hope you get all the answers you want.” “I don’t,” I said. “That wouldn’t be nearly as fun.”

“You’re a madman.” “No, I’m a curious scientist. It’s entirely different.”

“Kings? Who do you think we are?” Hammer said. “We’re a democratic meritocracy with a communist economy. Kings, pah!”