V2Ch85-Village Capture
Victoria’s hand dropped to the hilt of her dagger and caressed the guard nervously.
Even the priests and priestesses who had accompanied Tybalt on this journey were armed. The trip was expected to be that dangerous.
But this is just a little village, right? she thought. The first target is basically training.
Still, she had never been in combat before. She wasn’t supposed to be fighting, but accidents could always happen.
“Everyone, halt!” Tybalt called.
What followed was far more disorganized than Victoria would have liked to see.
Beastfolk stumbled into each other. One ibexman almost got his leg crushed under a heavy cart wheel and was just barely pulled out of the way by his neighbor. Two harpies crashed into each other and had to disentangle themselves, though they turned that into a real landing rather than slamming head first into the sand.
But only the catfolk stopped in good order. They were walking in ranks, as if they regularly trained this way, marching like a real army.
For the first time, Victoria felt a real sense of her own tribe’s inferiority next to the cat tribe. Because the foxfolk had failed at fighting the Kingdom again and again, but what she saw right now suggested the catfolk could at least contend with a similarly sized Royal Army group relative to their own population.
“We’ll need to practice that a bit,” Tybalt said, speaking in a raised voice - but not too loud, as the village was visible in the distance. “This is your first test, soldiers. We want to take the population of this village alive. Every death, every person maimed, on either side diminishes our victory. These people are not likely to be capable of defending themselves. I only count a handful of houses.”
There was a dull murmur at the necromancer’s explanation. Victoria distinctly heard the words “revenge” and “alive” spoken in close proximity. The bloodlust coming off her fellow beastfolk was apparently clouding their understanding of the mission.
“Hey! No one told you idiots it was time to talk! We’re not here to act like the fucking Kingdom!” Andric’s voice boomed out across the sand.
“Well, there goes the element of surprise,” Tatiana said from Victoria’s left. But she was smiling.
“These are probably going to be innocent people just like you and your own families,” Tybalt said loudly. “Remember the instructions we gave you when we set out. Don’t worry, we’ll get the chance to fight against real enemies. But don’t treat these people like that. We want them to join our side.”
There were murmurs of discontent, but it was more subdued.
This could be trouble eventually, Victoria thought.
“These idiots need a reminder of who’s in charge,” Dero muttered from Victoria’s other side. The words were clearly directed at Tybalt.
“I’ll lead the advance group into the village personally,” Tybalt said, still speaking at the same volume.
Victoria frowned. Her fiance had been planning to let the beastfolk take charge of this. They had clearly already disappointed the necromancer with their lack of discipline.
How is this going to work out?
“Ibexfolk, foxfolk, each of you pick a couple of soldiers to follow me in,” Tybalt said. “Those chosen had better prepare themselves like this is a real fight, because you never know. Andric will lead a second group to block any retreat in the opposite direction from my entry. Everyone else will stay with the supplies. Prepare a handful of troops from each tribe to participate in picking the village clean of anything usable once we’ve secured the villagers’ surrender.” He lowered his voice. “Baldwin, you’re with me. Mariella, you’ll stay at a distance and be ready to torch the houses when I give the word.”
She smiled tightly. “I would rather go in with you, but I understand.”
Her job must feel much more familiar than she’d like.
“Thank you,” Tybalt said. “Dero, please protect Victoria.”
“I won’t let anyone touch a hair on her head,” the dark elf replied.
A part of Victoria wanted to say she didn’t need special protection, but she knew that wasn’t true, and in her heart she was relieved. So she didn’t say anything, just nodded when Tybalt looked her way.
The beastfolk moved as Tybalt ordered over the next few minutes. Victoria saw a handful of men prepare to accompany Tybalt into the village. The necromancer himself donned the bone armor set he had brought with him, complete with a chest piece that Victoria had seen contained layers of different kinds of bone, bracers, greaves, and a horned helmet.
Despite everything he’d said, he was dressed as if he expected trouble.
“Wish me luck!”
Victoria blinked and realized Tybalt was done getting everyone ready, standing near her, Mariella, and Dero again.
“You won’t need luck,” Mariella said in a low voice. “But good luck, all the same.”
She stepped close to the necromancer, stood on tiptoes, and kissed him firmly on the lips.
When they separated, Victoria’s body moved instinctively. She was barely aware of herself as she moved to do exactly the same thing as Mariella. Until her lips pressed against Tybalt’s. He kissed her back, warm and firm, his hand on her waist. She felt slightly lightheaded as they separated.
“Be safe,” she said softly, her lips curling into a little smile.
“Yeah, don’t die stupidly,” came Dero’s voice from behind Victoria. “If you do, this whole expedition probably falls apart.”
“Thanks, guys,” Tybalt said. “Even you, Dero.”
“Hey, I give the best advice,” the dark elf said.
***
Tybalt turned and walked away, Baldwin taking his place at Tybalt’s side, the other men trailing just behind.
“It must be nice,” the revenant said. “Being so well loved.”
“Frankly, I think it’s going to exceed my wildest dreams,” Tybalt replied quietly.
The necromancer marched down the central path of the village - barely a path, more just a slightly worn down bit of desert where one could make out the prints from other feet over days. The sort of path that would get buried again with the next sandstorm. He could see plants growing around the little houses, and there had to be some sort of modest water source here somewhere that they used for drinking and agriculture. But he also knew that this was not the sort of place many people would want their children to live out their lives.
He wondered what had brought these people here, why they had settled in this patch of almost barren land.
Tybalt reached the middle of the houses, the center of this little village. There were only a half dozen residences. This place was puny indeed.
It was suspicious, of course, that no one was outside working in the middle of the day. Probably, someone had seen them coming. Hopefully they didn’t have any ideas about playing the hero.
The necromancer spoke, raising his voice to be heard by all around.
“All residents of this village, your homes are surrounded by the army of the beastfolk. We demand that you surrender or die! If you cooperate with us, no one will be harmed, and- ”
A door opened behind him, and as Tybalt turned to face the sudden movement, he recognized the whoosh of an arrow being loosed.
Bonebreaker.
The necromancer’s senses seemed to sharpen in the fraction of a second he had after the arrow was loosed. He became very aware of his surroundings. He heard the doors of other houses opening. He noted the positions of the men around him. He looked through Baldwin’s eyes next to him and actually saw the arrow in motion, and that relaxed him.
It won’t kill, he thought. It should just hit on my armor, not the side of my face. I can’t dodge quickly enough to completely avoid it. Even if I could, it would just hit a beastman. So…
Tybalt managed to tilt his body slightly.
The arrowhead struck Tybalt in the back of the shoulder. Against his reinforced bone armor, it failed to penetrate. The tip skidded off almost perfectly, retaining a good amount of its momentum.
The necromancer heard a little, choked gasp of pain and turned to see the arrow shaft sticking out of the thigh of an older man who’d opened his door.
Oh, good, it didn’t hit his neck or his heart. I could probably fix that injury pretty easily.
“Don’t touch tha- ”
The idiot yanked the shaft out and started bleeding heavily.
Well, fuck, I guess it nicked an artery.
“Oh, gods!” exclaimed the archer at the sight.
“Kill that son of a bitch!” snarled one of the ibexmen with Tybalt.
Three of them sprang at the archer, causing him to flinch back and reflexively reach for more arrows. The beastmen had hold of him before he could take one from his quiver, though. One of the foxmen drew a dagger from his waist with a menacing expression, pressing it to the archer’s throat.
“No unnecessary killing!” Tybalt barked instantly. “I’m still fucking alive here. The only one injured is one of theirs. Just hold him!”
This is why I needed to be one of the first into this place. These guys would have been acting just like fucking bandits if I wasn’t around. I wish I’d had more time to train them.
The necromancer, conscious that most of the village was now watching him, turned and took his time walking over to the heavily bleeding older man.
He wasn’t actually that old, now that Tybalt got a good look at him. The wrinkles in his face were just very set from too much sun. The desert sun could be hard on people.
Tybalt bent to look at the man’s arrow wound.
“No, please, don’t,” the man began.
Tybalt just gave him a cold look that silenced him, then reached out to touch the affected area.
Fleshcraft.
He stuck a finger into the wound, then ran it up and down, smoothing out and closing the internal tear. The bleeding slowed instantly to a tiny trickle.
So much easier when it’s not my own body I’m working on, Tybalt thought for far from the first time. He looked the other man in the eye, then closed the outer wound. Good thing for you that my hands are clean.
“You bring your family out here,” the necromancer said quietly.
“Please spare them,” the man replied, shaking his head, face pale. “They didn’t know anything about Tim’s fool plan. We- ”
“I think Tim was rather brave, actually,” Tybalt whispered. “That doesn’t mean I won’t deal harshly with anyone else who does the same. But I’m inclined to spare his life. Still, the whole village must surrender. Tell everyone inside your home to bring out everything they value.”
“Y-Yes, sir,” the man said.
He rushed to do as Tybalt ordered.
The necromancer turned and saw the foxman from before still had the archer at dagger point. Tybalt took a better look at the archer this time.
“Hey, you’re done fighting, right?” Tybalt called.
Tim was a mid-twenties man, and he shook slightly as he heard the necromancer’s voice, accidentally pressing the foxman’s dagger deeper into his neck. A thin trickle of blood began to seep from the spot where the point touched.
“I-I don’t mean to offer any further resistance, sir,” the archer said through gritted teeth.
You know, I’m not sure you mean that.
“Take his bow, take his arrows, and let him go back inside his little house,” Tybalt said, looking at the foxman with the dagger. “If he acts up, don’t bother hurting him, just start killing members of his family.” He turned to Tim. “As for you, bring out everyone inside the house, and don’t make any more trouble. I want you and your family to bring out everything you value.”
The archer looked as if he thought about saying something contrary. Then he wisely thought better of it and went inside.
Tybalt raised his voice so the whole village could hear it.
“We’re going to try this again. Everyone bring out your valuables. We’re going to burn all of your homes, and you’re coming with us. So don’t leave anything you care about unless you don’t mind losing it in a fire!”
A girl stepped out of the hut Tim had gone into, perhaps twenty years of age. She already had a small bag packed, and she wore what Tybalt guessed was her best clothing, a white peasant’s dress. But what drew his eye was the wooden pendant she wore on a thin chain around her neck.
The symbol of Astara.
The girl stepped forward, past the beastfolk - they moved to intercept her, but Tybalt raised a hand to signal not to - and then dropped to her knees before the necromancer.
“I apologize for my brother’s actions,” she said breathlessly, lowering her head. “They were reckless and foolhardy, but he only assumed you were a little group of bandits we needed to frighten away, not- ” She gestured at the small army of beastfolk that stood at each end of the village, cutting off any retreat. “- um, whatever this is.”
“It was very foolish,” Tybalt agreed. “Are you a priestess?”
“Am I a - oh.” She fingered the wooden conjoined hearts pendant. “I’m not, sir. I… I would have been an initiate. There was a priestess who came by here and thought I’d make a good priestess, because I know my letters and say my prayers. I thought… Well, anyway, it’s been several years since then. I don’t imagine anyone’s coming for me.” Her hand clenched around the wood. “I’ll help you, though. However you need help. Did you want some… spiritual guidance? A letter you needed read to you, perhaps? Or, um… I’ll help your band however I can. Just please don’t hurt my family.”
Tybalt snorted. If I was an actual bandit, do you know what sort of advantage I might take of that? Then again, an actual bandit wouldn’t bother asking.
“Karl!” Tybalt called.
One of his priests, a foxman, stepped forward with a nervous expression. When his eyes lit on the girl, they took on a strange gleam that the necromancer didn’t think he much liked.
“Yes, Lord Necromancer!”
Tybalt looked at him and immediately thought better of what he’d been about to say.
“On second thought, who better to do what needs doing than my fiancee?” the necromancer said aloud. “Karl, as you were. Vicky, come over here, please!”
Victoria moved through the ranks of Tybalt’s soldiers. They parted for her like she was a great lady of well known noble blood. A few even lowered their eyes as if they weren’t fit to look at her.
The reactions were different ever since it had become known that Victoria was a priestess, with a class granted by Lord Mudo himself.
“What can I do for you, future husband?” she asked as she drew close, a faint smile tugging at the corners of her lips.
“Will you train this girl as a priestess of our god?” he replied.
“I’d be happy to.” Victoria looked down at the girl, who finally, slowly rose to her feet.
“You are… Vika worshipers?” she asked with a hint of confusion.
Tybalt shook his head. “We worship a greater and more powerful god. The Death God.”
The girl looked nervously around and finally seemed to notice the undead. Her eyes widened, and she paled slightly. Then she nodded.
“Very well. I’ll serve as one of your priestesses, forsaking the gods of my ancestors… if you’ll promise to keep my family safe.”
“They’ll be as safe as the rest of us,” Tybalt said. “That’s all I can promise. And we’re at war with the Kingdom.”
The necromancer turned, ignoring the girl’s shocked expression, and he began giving instructions for the dismantling of the village.