A Bored Lich

"Information is not enough for the harm we have done to your leg," the father insisted.

Thomas yanked a fire poker out of his leg with a pained groan. He thanked his luck that its barbed tip had rusted away and that it missed his vitals. The wound healed with a breath of steam, eating a portion of his body fat. He put the fire poker on the desk. Blood dripped from the tip but since it was his, his hunger wasn't stimulated by the smell of it. Drip. Drip. Drip. "It couldn't have been helped, considering the condition. Some of the blame falls on me. I am experienced in combat but you three fought in a way I've never seen before."

"I'm sorry," the girl said.. "It was all just a blur."

"It's fine," Thomas said.

"B-but your leg, I stabbed it didn't I?" She pointed to his knee but there wasn't a wound anymore. She furrowed her brows as she looked at the bloody fire poker, still dripping blood.

Drip. Another drop of blood fell.

Thomas let out a nervous chuckle. "I can heal fast. Anyway, as you can all see, I'm not a bandit. You don't have to be nervous." They were all shaking, so he hoped to calm them down.

"I'm not nervous," the father said before pointing at Thomas's attire; dark leather armor wrapped in belts and sheaths, all atop his normal clothes. "How are you...nevermind."

'I'm an idiot,' he thought. 'they're only wearing rags in the middle of winter. No wonder they were huddled under that bearskin.' He peered through the boarded up window and winced as the setting sunlight filled his vision. 'If it's cold now, I can't imagine how they would get through the night.'

"So you're not mad?" the boy asked.

Thomas smiled but the boy paled, as if he imagined some sort of malicious intent behind it. "Honestly, I'm just happy to find people who aren't dead. I'm Thomas, Thomas Virility."

The father snorted. "Surely you jest. No noble would help us peasants, though I am not one to pry. Thomas Virility it is."

Thomas frowned. "You mean it's not common for nobles to help their people?"

The father let out a hollow chuckle: "No." Thomas looked to the children, who nodded in agreement. "If the nobles had answered our pleas in the first place, my family wouldn't have had to endure these conditions. My wife..."

A glob of blood splattered on the ground.

"Oh, I'm sorry for your loss," Thomas consoled him.

The father shook his head. "No she's not dead. At the time we were abducted, she was leading the guards back home. Knowing her, she'll be worried sick about us."

"O-oh, I see," Thomas drummed his fingers on the armrest. "That's good. What was your name again?"

"Where are my manners? You can call me Mr. Fisher, nice to meet you." followed by his son, Junior Fisher, and daughter, Penelope Fisher. Thomas shifted his focus away from their shabby clothes and bodies, and saw family resemblances: curly, greasy, brown hair, all three of them taller than average, and freckled. There was another similarity between them however Thomas suspected that the red blisters covering their wrists weren't born from shared blood.

Mr. Fisher sat between his children and relaxed: "If you're not with the bandits, then are you here to hunt down that creature?"

"The wolf?" Thomas asked, earning several nods. "Yeah, I guess you could say that."

Mr. Fisher let out a sigh of relief. It turned into a fit of coughing that racked his frail body. The children silently waited for it to pass while Thomas fidgeted in his seat, useless. "I'm alright," the father insisted. "I knew someone would come. The priest didn't believe it but I knew the goddess would send us a savior." He pulled on a simple string around his neck and clutched the end of it tight.

The hair on Thomas's neck rose on end, and his hand flew to his spatial ring. "What is that?"

Mr. Fisher hesitated: "A-a figure of the goddess, nothing more. I apologize. I-I didn't intend to startle you." He displayed a small, wooden figure in his open palms. "It's the last thing left I have from my great grandfather. It protected us. I'm sorry but I refuse to hand it over."

It wasn't exactly a comfortable feeling but Thomas ignored it: "No, that wasn't my intention. How long do you think your family can...go on?"

Mr. Fisher lowered his head. "Junior, Penelope."

"We're fine dad," Penelope insisted. "Really, not much worse than you."

Mr. Fisher shook his head. "Show us."

"Show what?" Thomas asked. He wished he hadn't because the two children displayed their feet; bloated with dead skin and leaking pus.

Mr. Fisher winced at the sight: "They've got the creeping cold...It's gotten worse. After the bandits took most of our belongings, they dragged us blindfolded and shackled through the snow for hours. Please, do you have any furs or coats you can spare us?"

Thomas took spare sets of clothing, socks, and shoes out of his spatial ring and set them down. He feared that the added weight might crush their bony forms but the family slipped into the warm clothes without complaint. Then their stomachs grumbled.

Junior's head perked up: "Can you give us some food as well?"

Mr. Fisher frowned. "Junior, that's rude. We mustn't keep asking things after all he's done for us." He turned to Thomas and bowed his head. "I apologize. He's just a child."

"But if he has some to spare…" Penelope muttered. Thomas's own stomach grumbled out a stern reply. The children lowered their heads.

'I'm getting hungry already?' Thomas thought. 'I didn't even do much.'

"Now, what should we do?" Mr. Fisher asked. "Escape? Every moment we spend here gives it a chance to chase us down."

Thomas rubbed his chin. "Why did you stay here?"

"I don't know where we are," Mr. Fisher shrugged. "Wandering blindly into the winter without protection from the cold is a death-wish."

Thomas let out a sigh: "I can only point you all in the right direction."

'It's not like I can protect them if the lycanthrope means any harm. I can barely protect myself, I hope.'

"That is enough," Mr. Fisher nodded.

Thomas walked over to the boarded up window and pointed at the path he had taken: "About a fifteen minute walk south from here you'll find guards from your town. They'll take care of you but you'll all have to make it there by relying on your own strengths. I wish I could help you but I should find the others first. Can you all endure that much?"

They all nodded and slowly rose up. It was a last show of strength from people who should have been on death's door.

"You wanted information, right?" Mr. Fisher said. "The bandits took a few dozen of us but I don't know how many are still alive. We all ran as soon as we were freed."

"Freed by what, the wolf?"

The man blinked: "Hell no. That thing slew the bandits, that is true, but a monster is always a monster. After it vanished, one of us managed to escape their shackles. I couldn't hear much over the yelling, nor did I question it when someone tossed me the keys. I freed myself and my children, passed the keys on, then we ran."

Drip.

A large, wet nose twitched in response to a shift in the air. 'Blood,' it thought. 'No, it's similar but it's off. What is this smell? Who...what is that?' Eight, slitted eyes shone in the dark room as the creature stood.

Drip. Another drop of blood fell on the ground.

Thomas frowned: "Did the lycan...the monster hurt any of you?"

Mr. Fisher shrugged. "We wouldn't allow it the chance, that's why we all ran out of that damned library. That creature should be hunted down. Their very existence goes against the goddess's will. If it knew where we were, we wouldn't stand a chance."

"But what if he...it was trying to help you? You were all trapped. Who could have given you guys the keys?"

A vein bulged in the man's forehead: "If not for monsters like that wolf we wouldn't have been taken in the first place. Ever since a week ago, when the world trembled and the moon broke, creatures of their ilk have assaulted the town. We've been attacked before but never like this, especially in the winter time. It's not natural. My wife would come home exhausted and covered in wounds. The nobles wouldn't help us either. When the bandits offered us their protection, we had no choice. Now we pay the price."