Two ogres, Ward and Ralph, were the official gravediggers. The position added a few coins to their wages. They could’ve done a poor job of it, and none but the dead would’ve cared. But Ward took some small pride in his work, and that rubbed off a little on Ralph. They were both typical ogre specimens: tall, wide, ruddy, hairy creatures with broad mouths and tiny, close-set eyes. Ralph was a little hairier than Ward, and Ward was a little taller. That was the biggest difference between them.

Ralph scooped out another shovel of dirt and glanced at the setting sun. “It’s getting dark. That’s deep enough.”

Ward shrugged. “I don’t know. Doesn’t look as deep as the last commander.”

“That’s because I liked that guy.”

“You might’ve liked this guy, Ralph.”

They studied Ned’s corpse with its bulging eye and purplish tongue hanging from blue lips.

Ralph frowned. “Looks like an asshole to me.”

“They all look like that when they’re dead.”

Ralph picked Ned up by one leg and dangled the corpse. “Yeah, but what kind of idiot calls himself Never Dead Ned, then goes and dies?”

“Asshole,” they said as one.

Ralph tossed the body in the hole. It didn’t take long for the heavyset gravediggers to finish the burial. Dark clouds spread overhead. A few heavy drops of rain fell. Ward jammed a simple tombstone into place.

“That’s nice,” complimented Ralph. “When did you make it?”

“Soon as I heard the new commander was coming. Didn’t think I’d have to use it so soon.”

In the unadorned cemetery, ten graves stretched beside Ned’s.