The first time he woke, his whole body ached, a fiery and bitter pain coursing through each and every limb.

Before his eyelids could take on the burden of opening, he tried to sit up and immediately regretted it.

A painful throbbing emphasized the precariousness of his body, and he had such strong restraints holding him to the bed that Eichelberbog accepted the current posture. He remembered fighting against the army of Codia, the bitter taste of victory followed by the sick fall answering to his guts being shredded from all that fighting. He should be dead now, really.

Forcing the weight to keep his eyelids lifted, a blur of different colors showed up. The view of a hospital room, and it wasn't Krazar's. It couldn't be.

Shapeless silhouettes. A muddle of movements and indistinct noises.

"I think the zombie is up," someone said and his body got tense right away. That nickname. That tone.

That word was his curse, wasn't it?

When his sight focused, he looked at the figures around his crib. The faces were still in shades of blurry contours, but now Eichelberbog was conscious of lying flat and restrained on what could be the fanciest bed he had seen, with nurses and doctors rushing around, bringing jars full of strange ointments and clean clothes.

"You're awake. How are you feeling?" the healer closest to the bed spoke. She didn't look comfortable, none of the people in that room did - her features were forcibly tender, and although she was closer than the others, there was still an intrusive distance there, as if she feared that Eichelberbog could get up and break her neck.

Was this how Codia treated all its prisoners? Perhaps they were trying to cure him as quickly as possible in order to extract reliable information, the ones he could spill easily, the ones he wouldn't have the power to deny.

"Can't move," he replied with some difficulty, his tongue strangely swollen.

"We used some strong anesthetic herbs. It's normal to not be able to move yet, you should rest for a while longer. I'm surprised you're awake already."

Her expression was one of hesitation, her eyes wandering and only momentarily focusing on him. It was something Eichelberbog was accustomed to: the looks of fear and terror directed at his repulsive being.

Even in his own troop, his position had never been a social one. He'd share quarters with other soldiers, but rarely speak. He was painfully aware how much of a tool to destroy the enemy he was, rather than a real person. Even his name didn't really fit in. No, zombie seemed to fit his condition better.

"Why am I restrained?" He spoke up again and noticed his voice was rougher than ever.

"They ordered us to. I'm sorry." Her grip on the utensil was more nervous than before. "You killed a lot of our people. I'm afraid we can't trust you without restraint."

She swallowed hard and looked at him once again, though her face reflected something far from a medical approach. Disgusted. Afraid, like most of the Codia people.

So why bother treating his body? Was it that the sovereign wanted to inflict greater suffering as revenge for the murder of the former king? That wasn't difficult to believe. He was certain the worst pain would come soon.

Eichelberbog just waited. Waited for death.

He didn't care about life.

Never had.