A Sinner’s Chance

The Banshee gently floated to the ground keeping some distance from our group. "You are not the ones I seek." she said, her voice raspy, before turning away.

I was glad that she wasn't hostile, but not only me, but Arya and Steria too were surprised that she seemed to retain her intelligence. Nearly all undead were possessed by an innate hatred of the living and wouldn't spare them for any reason. Banshees were especially known for widespread death among the living as those who heard their wails lost the will to live. Thankfully they were rare and while no scholar knew exactly what was needed to bring one about, there were two points that always needed to be true. First was that the person was female, not physically, but mentally, as a Banshee's form reflected a twisted form of how a person saw themselves. The second was that they possessed a strong willpower, or an otherwise deep-set desire, such as vengeance or hatred.

In the case of the Banshee before me, I imagined she desired vengeance against the master who sentenced her to death and possibly other unspeakable acts. Normally I wouldn't care too much and would just let her seek it on her own, but the fact that they had targeted my possessions, and likely not just once, unless the Banshee had a Skill that let her avoid traps, something I doubted as she'd been caught.

She'd also died not too long ago, though I couldn't be sure of the exact length, which meant that those who killed her should still be nearby, and therefore easy to catch up to. What were the chances that they had a method to cross through the dense forest in the same speedy manner as I did?

It was with these thoughts that I called out to the Banshee who had begun fading into the trees. "Wait. I can help you." I yelled out, which caused the Banshee to stop and turn. "I want to punish those who targeted my things, and it just so happens that I'm practiced in the art of Necromancy. I'll help you find and catch up to those you are looking for, in exchange, I need a coachman. What say you?"

With a terrifying speed the Banshee flashed in front of me causing Arya and Steria to flinch and ready their magic, only to be stopped by my hand. The Banshee was gazing intently into my eyes, her face barely separated from mine, as if she could glean the truth of my words from my dark eyes alone. "I am not unwilling." she rasped. "But I desire freewill, too long have I suffered under forced servitude. How can I be sure you won't bind me to your will, as with those beasts over there?" she questioned, a finger pointing towards the horses who I'd raised as undead.

"Because if you are bound to my will you will be unable to serve as a decent servant. It's much easier for reanimated creatures to mimic their living counterparts if there is a common perception of said creature. However, to mimic a living, breathing person would take far too much manual input from me to be worth anything except perhaps decoration." I wasn't actually one-hundred percent sure on what I was saying, but the Heresy Magic book didn't have any rituals for binding intelligent undead anyway, so even if I had wanted to I couldn't without searching through Seshat's Library, and even if I did, I couldn't be sure it was a ritual from this world anyway, which meant I couldn't be sure if it work properly or not.

The Banshee moved away slightly as she mulled over my proposition. "How long will this employment last?"

I hadn't expected her to want a time limit, but it only made sense given her desire to be free. I really did only want her to be a coachman as that would allow me to stay in the carriage with Arya and Steria even when it was moving. It wasn't like the Banshee would even need to know much about actually driving a carriage since the horses were absolutely obedient to me. "Until I leave this continent. I need to visit the Divine City of Luxuria, it shouldn't be more than two years." I figured if she liked working for me we could always hash out a new agreement between now and then if she wanted.

"I agree." the Banshee said. "Two years of service I shall give to you in exchange for the lives of my enemy and a corporeal form."

With an agreement made our group of three became a group of four and a corpse that was now frozen in a chunk of ice that I was constantly supplying with mana to keep frozen. Couldn't have her body rot before we caught up to those we sought, and any internal damage could be ignored since an undead didn't need their innards to function.

A group of men sat around a campfire as the darkness of night began to set in talking loudly with no fear of being heard. "Hey boss, what'cha you think in that carriage anyways? You wouldn't throw away yer favorite girlie for nothin surely?" one of the men asked in between bites of a skewer of meat.

The boss he referred to was a middle-aged man who had the look of a wealthy merchant, or perhaps lower noble, one that would normally never be found in the company of the ruffians he was currently with. He brushed back his smooth brown as he looked at the one who asked the question, a smile forming on his tight face. "Tell me, do any of you know about the rumors of a girl who defeated a Hero?"

The four ruffians looked at each other while shaking their heads and muttering answers about how they'd never heard of such.

"I thought not, it isn't something the church would want getting out. Rumor has it that the adopted third daughter of some noble managed to beat the Hero of Justice in combat, and even made him confess his wrongdoings. I have it on good authority that the carriage belongs to said girl, and I imagine it has some tasty secrets that will make all of us very rich. How else would a 16 year old girl defeat a Hero? One would have to be close to immortal for that to happen, and right now she's hidden away in a valley for who knows what reason. I couldn't ask for a more convenient situation."

The ruffians looked impressed at their boss's knowledge and obvious intelligence network that allowed him to find out all this information. However, their excitement was cut short as a soft voice cut through the darkness. "That pitiful slug of Hero was far too easy for me to defeat."

The five men could only blink in confusion as a woman sauntered into the firelight. Long silky black hair that was pulled back into a ponytail that cascaded down her back, a hint of purple at the tips of her bangs that framed an angular almost Elven face. She was dressed in seductive attire that seemed to consist of a body harness that outlined an athletic, yet sensual figure. It was hard to tell with just the firelight, but her arms and legs seemed to be encased in shiny black tights of some kind, while each toe and finger seemed to be unnaturally pointed.

The five men went through a rollercoaster of emotion as the woman appeared. Confusion, followed by lust, only to feel a strange and unshakable terror when her practically glowing violet irises that were surrounded in what seemed to be the void, locked onto them like they were prey, no more in her eyes than rabbits in a trap.