Jerry leaned against the railing and took a deep, deep breath. The ground rolled below, seemingly slow but actually fast, and the wind buffeted his face, sending strands of black hair flying backward. He hadn’t had a haircut in a long time, not since Derek helped groom him for Pilpen’s council, over half a year ago.

  How is Derek, I wonder? Jerry thought, leaning lower against the wooden railing until his jaw rested on it. Maybe he and Holly have already settled down in Milaris and are living a nice life. I sure hope he’s happy…and that Holly doesn’t fall for the wrong guy again.

  Jerry enjoyed reminiscing the past—nostalgia brought a smile to his lips and warmth to his heart. He’d was happy for what he’d lived, not regretful that it was over, and he was secretly proud of this secret to life not many people knew.

  Yes, this is nice.

  Jerry reclined back into his heavenly soft chair, strategically placed by the railing, enjoying the dual comfort of clouds on his bottom and breeze on his face—triple comfort, if one included the wonderful sight his eyes greedily scoured.

  Few people would characterize the barren plains and wandering dots of undeath far below as wonderful, but Jerry was one of them.

  After escaping the Wizard Order at Edge Town, Jerry’s group had used their borrowed airship to fly past the Wall and into the Dead Lands, heading for the very center, where Dorman’s treasure awaited—according to Marcus.

  It had been a week since then, in which they hadn’t stopped at all. The fuel barrels stored in the hold were enough to last them a month, they had brought food and water for the living, and they were steadily approaching the central area of the Dead Lands. In only a day or two, they would arrive.

  In the meantime, everyone had gotten more acquainted with each other. It’s a nice feeling, Jerry thought, looking back at the deck. Friends…

  Axehand, fully healed from the battle, sat on the ship’s prow, gazing far ahead while slowly sipping on wine—he cut an almost romantic figure, if with alcoholic tendencies. Boney and Headless had grabbed some wood and crafted a checkerboard, enjoying game after game—Boney almost always won, and Headless enjoyed moving his head around the board to look at it from different angles.

  "Aha!" he suddenly exclaimed, still unable to form proper words, and moved a wooden flake they called a piece.

  "You fool," Boney said, letting out a cluckle—the combination of a chuckle and his bony jaw’s clacking. His piece captured two of Headless’s. "You fell right into my trap!"

  "Ooooh!" Headless groaned, falling on his back, while Boney laughed evilly.

  A small splash of water landed on his skull, making him turn around.

  "Oh, sorry!" Laura shouted from across the deck. "It was an accident."

  "You’re too far away for an accident!" Boney replied, standing up and pointing at her. "That was a challenge, wasn’t it? Come! This time, I will absolutely debone you!"

  The ambitious skeleton had hosted a checkers tournament one night, expecting to win and make Jerry proud, but Laura had prevailed effortlessly. Boney took second place, narrowly outsmarting Marcus, while Jerry came fourth, followed only by Headless. The rest had opted not to participate—Axehand had played one round, lost catastrophically, then grunted and returned to drinking.

  Boney had been practicing since then, but Laura refused to play him again.

  "I’m sorry, my good skeleton," she replied with a gentle smile. "I just don’t like this game."

  "Let’s just play once! When I defeat you, I will be satisfied."

  "You will never defeat me. Maybe you could try something else, like competitive evil chuckling."

  “It’s called cluckling!”

  Boboar and Foxy oinked and yelped in laughter respectively, resting beside Laura—they didn’t necessarily understand the joke, but they enjoyed the company.

  The hydromancer often used her magic to perform water shows, with her most frequent audience being these two skeletal animals. She would draw water out of her wooden flask and use it to form various shapes, from circles to humans, having them run and play and fight with each other.

  It was a massive hit. If the Funny Bone ever returned to performing, they would certainly ask her to join.

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  An excited yell came from somewhere above, and Jerry turned to look with a smile. The four Billies were the ones who enjoyed the airship the most; they spent most of their time climbing the masts, jumping from perch to perch, or scaling the massive hot air balloon. They’d even recruited Birb into their games. The red-feathered zombie bird enjoyed flying around their heads, demonstrating its agility and mocking their lack of wings.

  The Billies would jest and challenge each other to perform harder and harder stunts, taking to them like excited children in a playground. Their antics always brought a smile to Jerry’s face; they were experienced acrobats, and he had asked them to put safety first, so they wouldn’t fall. Probably.

  They were also learning to handle the sails; open and close them as needed, turn them to catch the wind, adjust the fuel valve to keep their height constant… Slowly but surely, the Billies were turning into wonderful sailors of the sky.

  The intricacies of how this ship even worked were lost on Jerry. It had something to do with hot air in the balloon and then moving with the wind, or so said Marcus, but Jerry didn’t for one moment believe that hot air could make you a bird.

  I’ve met plenty of hot-headed people in my life, and none of them could fly… But, let’s not upset Marcus. Even if he’s got it wrong, it seems to be working!

  As for Jerry himself, he’d placed his heavenly soft chair by the airship’s railing—the windiest spot of the deck—soon after boarding and spent all of his time there. The cold never bothered him anyway. In the week they’d been traveling, he hadn’t stood once, except to rotate his chair when it was time to eat.

  While resting his buttocks, he would watch the others go about their days, converse, or sleep. He often thought about Herald Maccain and the new aspects of necromancy he’d shown Jerry. It was a good reminder that there was much more to learn, and Jerry really looked forward to it. He tried to practice, though there was little he could achieve without instruction.

  He also spent a good amount of time practicing his shoemaking craft—and after only one day of work, he’d handed Laura a pair of delicate sandals she hadn’t removed since. He wanted to paint them blue as well, but unfortunately, he had no paint.

  "Food is ready, everyone!"

  Marcus walked out of the second deck, holding a small pot, and everyone scrambled to get to the long table placed by Jerry’s chair—even the Billies, who slid down the masts with the agility of monkeys. Laura walked over at a moderate pace.

  The airship had come with most amenities, all in reasonable condition. There were chairs, a long table, hammocks to sleep in, fuel barrels, and a stove, along with enough wood to operate it for a month, if used frugally. Count Decaron, for all his flaws, kept the airship properly equipped to travel at a moment’s notice—what a fine gentleman!

  "There you go!" Marcus placed the pot in the center of the table, bringing out a set of wooden bowls and spoons.

  "What delicacy have you made this time, Marcus?" Laura asked.

  "It’s meat soup!" he said, with his lips and mustache smiling cheek to cheek. "I added a few extra ingredients this time. Come on, try it!"

  Jerry took a spoonful, blowing lightly before tasting it. His eyes widened.

  "Marcus!" he cried out. "This is amazing!"

  "Of course it is," he said, winking. "We must enjoy food while we have it!"

  Boney raised his skull in glee. "Oh boy, I can’t wait to let this one drip down my ribcage!"

  "And whose fault is that?" Marcus raised a brow. "If you wanted to eat, you shouldn’t have become a skeleton."

  "Nobody asked for my opinion. Isn’t that right, Boboar?"

  The skeletal double-boar oinked shyly—once upon a time, he’d ravaged the bandit that Tom Boney used to be, making him unable unusable as a zombie.

  "Come on, everyone, let’s eat," Jerry said, laughing. "We don’t want Marcus’s masterpiece to grow cold."

  Between chatting and laughing, they all grabbed spoons and fell on the pot as if starving. The undead and Jerry only ate a couple of spoonfuls for the taste—they didn’t need to eat, and the airship had limited amounts of food. Marcus and Laura were the ones actually eating, and they ravaged it.

  Amongst his many skills, Marcus was an excellent cook.

  All in all, journeying through the skies was a pleasant experience for all of them. The dangerous Dead Lands stretched below, but they just cruised above them, and they had met zero problems so far.

  "Hmm?" Jerry narrowed his eyes, gazing at the horizon. "Hey, what’s that?"

  Between spoonfuls and bone puns, they turned to look. A black dot had just appeared in the distance, where the airship was headed—and a moment later, it had increased in size.

  Everyone forgot about the food and rushed to the airship’s front—even Jerry, whose bones creaked loudly as he stood up for nearly the first time in three days. He accompanied them with sounds of “ow ow ow.”

  The Dead Lands below were a mostly flat terrain sprinkled with dark forests and swamps, with only the occasional hill or rock outcropping disrupting the monotony. The grass was gray, however, and from this height, small figures could be seen aimlessly wandering the expanse, alone or in hordes—undead.

  As if to pile on the ground’s monochrome monotony, the sky was almost perpetually covered in clouds, and the air tasted stale. The Dead Lands resembled a dying world, where death and twilight welcomed the senses.

  Jerry had seen this sight a thousand times already, so he focused solely on the dot flying their way. Gradually, its shape cleared up. His eyes narrowed, then widened.

  "Is that a whale!?"