V2Ch91-Departure Time
The morning found the town in a somber state.
The beastfolk troops were gathered outside the walls. Tybalt could tell that word of his intentions for the town had gotten around, too, because the full population of the settlement was out alongside them. Their worldly possessions were crammed into hastily packed carts and wagons.
A mood of despondency hung in the air, as they wondered, Is this really going to happen?
Many of the residents of Grain were visibly distraught.
Among the beastfolk themselves, the mood was much brighter. Many of Tybalt’s soldiers had replaced their ragged clothing with gambesons taken from the town watchmen’s wardrobes, they had better bows and other weapons seized from the town’s stock, two dozen of them were mounted on the town’s camels, and supplies were fully replenished. Their carts held a reassuring weight - food and barrels of ale and water - that told them they would not die of hunger or thirst on the way to the next habitation.
Perhaps they were beginning to feel like professional soldiers, having won their first victory and acquired some real equipment.
This was all to say nothing of the fact that so many of them had gotten laid the previous night.
Tybalt himself was in fairly good spirits. In addition to having passed a pleasant evening, he had also picked up a couple of levels in pestilence mage as he slept.
His plague was advancing, spreading and growing more severe in those already afflicted. It added a slight sense of urgency to his desire to move on, though. He still wanted the beastfolk to get more battle experience and levels, and if the towns to come were completely hollowed out, that wouldn’t be possible.
For the moment, the necromancer stood in front of a cart full of corpses, Victoria positioned inside the cart behind him with several other priests and priestesses, as well as initiate Dot. The priesthood were praying over some of the bodies in the hopes of replicating what Tybalt and Victoria had achieved with the wight knight. There was another cart full of dead, too. It would be a full day’s work, raising them, assuming that Tybalt had the time.
The necromancer started the day off with some repair work on the undead that had been damaged in the capture of the town.
An honor guard of strong undead surrounded him, prepared to pull the carts that Tybalt needed closest to him so none of his mortal supporters would have to strain themselves. All of the carts were to be pulled by undead, since if their stamina was managed correctly, they were functionally tireless. Unlike humans, they would not need to eat or sleep if they exerted themselves more.
A man with an intelligent face stepped forward from among the locals and, with a steely look in his eyes, began to stride toward Tybalt’s cart as the necromancer used Fleshcraft and Scrimshaw to knit together arrow holes in one of his undead.
The approaching man was stopped almost immediately by Sidon and Deron until Tybalt ordered them - and the rest of his guards - to back off.
“My apologies, my lord,” said the man as he drew close to the necromancer. “For, um, approaching without leave.”
“You had my leave to approach,” Tybalt replied quietly, not looking up from the work he was doing. “Otherwise the undead would have torn you limb from limb.”
“Of course, my lord,” the man said. The near smiling expression that had begun forming on his face dropped away, and he became more serious.
“I don’t want to harm anyone from this town, to be clear,” Tybalt said. “I don’t mean to sound threatening. I anticipate we have a long day ahead of us. Then a long few weeks. Hopefully after that, a nice long life!” He let out a low chuckle. “You can relax and tell me what you’re here for.”
“Yes, my lord. What do you have planned for us? That’s what everyone gathered outside the gates wants to know. You’re burning our homes, taking us we-don’t-know-where, so…”
“And who exactly are you?”
“My name, or- ?”
“Your name and who you are to the townspeople, please.” Tybalt finished repairing the one undead, and another one stepped forward to receive the necromancer’s healing. He still didn’t give the speaker his full attention. The man wasn’t saying anything significant yet.
“I’m Jonathan, and I worked here as a carpenter, sir. I… they chose me to be the one to ask questions.”
“Hm.”
“Perhaps because I have a family, so they imagined you wouldn’t harm me,” Jonathan added hastily.
“What do I need the Mayor for, if the people have someone else they want to use as their intermediary?” Tybalt wondered aloud.
The carpenter went silent.
Tybalt waved a hand, looked at Jonathan for the first time, and continued, “Disregard that. So they wanted you to come and question me.”
“Yes. The people want to know what happens next. They just… We just need a bit of hope, my lord. You’re taking us away from everything we know. What do you have planned?”
I don’t have hope to sell. What do I look like, a fortuneteller? I have my own problems, man. How do I make him go away quickly?
“Tell them that we want to overthrow the Kingdom,” Tybalt said. “Tell them that we’re going to burn every town between the edge of the Salt Waste and the Forgetting Ocean. We’ll be collecting people as we go, so your fellow townsfolk won’t be lonely, at least. Those who serve and help us will get land when we reorganize the Kingdom and reform its structure. Everyone will have to follow us until we reach the edge of the Salt Waste, at least, whether they want to or not. Considering that we’re taking your supplies, you wouldn’t be able to survive here on your own anyway.”
At first, the man just stood there, looking at Tybalt like the necromancer had sprouted a second head. Talk of overthrowing the country’s government could understandably do that. As Tybalt pointed out the reality that the townsfolk had no choice but to follow him, the carpenter’s expression turned to one of grim resignation.
“Is that really all you’re going to give him?” whispered a now familiar voice in the necromancer’s ear.
Tybalt turned his head. “Dero, when did you get back?”
“About a minute ago,” she said. “Just when you were being questioned by our new friend…?
“Um, Jonathan,” the carpenter said, visibly baffled at the sudden appearance of the dark elf.
“Can you give us a minute, Jonathan?” Tybalt said. “Don’t go far.
“Yes, my lord.” He bowed his head and moved off to the periphery of Tybalt’s undead guards.
“How did it go with Elder Sybil?” the necromancer asked.
“Fine, she prepared what you asked her for,” Dero said. “I brought some of it with me. And she also expressed gratitude on behalf of the fox tribe’s Council of Elders for being kept informed.”
“Good. It’s important that they know… given what I plan to do,” Tybalt said, eyes darting to the side, conscious of the presence of the priests and priestesses working behind him.
Dero followed his gaze and nodded with a slightly amused expression on her face.
“More importantly, what are you telling these people?” she asked.
“Just the truth,” Tybalt said. “I want to get a move on to the next town. Eventually, I’m going to try and recruit some of them for our army, but right now, I don’t have time to give a speech. We can’t sit around here all day.”
“Then give them something to think about!” Dero exclaimed, her amusement turning to slight frustration. She lowered her voice. “What kind of conqueror just herds people like cattle, without telling them anything about what’s going on? About what moves the great leader to take this drastic action? The people want to know! If you ever want to recruit any of them, now is your chance to make them think! Just a five minute speech. Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about this.”
“I have,” Tybalt replied in a heated whisper. “I’m just more focused on the next threat. This fight was too easy. The beastfolk got hardly any levels. Sooner or later, one of these towns is going to have someone who knows what he’s doing in charge. These mayoral appointments usually go to second sons of noble houses. Men with classes and nothing else to do but play god in their little fief. I don’t know much about these guys. When I visited these towns as a soldier, I wasn’t looking to figure out the threat level of the locals or the leaders. And the mayors usually keep some distance from the dirty commoners anyway. At some point, we could get a nasty surprise. So I have bigger things on my mind than a few hundred townsfolk, mostly noncombatants, majority women and children. Even if they were the ideal population to recruit soldiers from, why the fuck would they listen to me? I’m not a noble, the god that supports me isn’t the same god they worship, and the only reason they’re not running away from us right now is that my guys have control over the food and water.”
“Is that self-doubt? Humility? That’s not like you… nor is this defeatist talk.”
“Just being realistic.”
“Realistically, you’re right. You don’t have the right backing, the right blood - fuck, you don’t even have a proper last name, just the name of the village you’re from - but that’s never stopped filthy peasants like yourself from having an uprising. We can’t all be blue blooded noble ladies, after all. But you have to address them. That’s what you have when you don’t have blood or gold or the gods in your corner. Bullshit.”
“Bullshit?”
“Yeah, whatever bullshit you can promise them. That’s how politics works. I’m sure someone must have told you this at some point. You know how to read, and you didn’t strike me as completely uneducated.”
“That’s right.” Tybalt’s lips curved in a shadow of a smile. “I do know some things.”
“Well, politics is all just bullshit. You said some pretty words to get the beastfolk to follow you. It wasn’t just that you risked your life. Your fire mage did that, too, and they aren’t following her orders, are they?”
He nodded. “That was different, though. I legitimately helped the beastfolk. These people are about to watch their town burn. I’m ruining their situation. I have a good reason for it, but- ”
“Convince them otherwise. You’re not ruining their situation. You’re saving them… from something. Pick your choice. Just make it convincing. Come on, Tybalt. Dance. You’ve got everyone around here convinced you know how. Don’t let things slide that are under your control to this degree. If you want to rule, you have to work for it.”
He scratched the back of his head. “Yeah, one thing at a time, I guess. I’ll give them a very quick speech and then get back to working on more undead.” He turned his head and raised his voice. “Harald!”
The wight knight quickly strode forward from among the guard of undead, towering over all around him. Tybalt jumped onto the cart and then up onto Harald’s shoulders, using the wight knight’s long horns as handles to steady himself.
“Advance to just in front of where the people are,” the necromancer ordered.
“Yes, master,” Harald said in his low, clear voice. He strode right past Jonathan, who looked up at the necromancer with questions in his eyes.
The townsfolk were all formed into one mass now, standing opposite the gathered beastfolk and undead groups.
Tybalt’s walking platform stepped into the gap between the two. Conversation ceased, and everyone lifted their heads to look up at the tall necromancer standing on the shoulders of the towering ibexfolk figure.
“Greetings, new guests of the Great Army of the Beastfolk!” Tybalt boomed. “Congratulations on being the first town in the Salt Waste to have been liberated from the oppressive yoke of the Kingdom.”
There were surprised murmurs, almost certainly at his choice of words. “Liberated,” not “conquered.”
Tybalt knew what he had to do here. Sell them on the differences between himself and the distant ruling class of the Kingdom.
These are common folk, like me. They don’t give a fuck about the struggles of gods and nations. They just hope none of that crap touches them or their families. So I speak to their interests, their experience.
“All your lives, you’ve been loyal subjects, paid your taxes on time, and all you got in return from the Kingdom was being left alone. Now they have waged aggressive war against the beastfolk, trying to wipe them out, and when the beastfolk came to seek their revenge, the King didn’t even have the decency to protect you. That’s why your town is getting destroyed today. Because your damned King didn’t care about protecting his people. You’re lucky that we’re kinder than him. We propose a new order for the Kingdom. One that you can help us shape. A unified land that can accept more than one people. One where beastfolk and humankind live hand in hand, blah blah blah.
“Of course, I know you don’t care about that. Not yet, anyway. You want to know what’s in this situation for you.” Smiles grew on a few faces at Tybalt’s strangely irreverent tone. “I’ll tell you what’s in it for you. When we seize power, we’ll cut your taxes. Whatever you pay now, when we’re in charge, we’ll cut it in half for a decade or more. We’ll have to figure out how much money we need to run the government in that time to see if we can keep that going. But a lot of my supporters, as you may have noticed, are undead. They don’t need to eat, so they don’t need money. The people who fight for me and aren’t undead will be paid as soldiers or given grants of land in the reorganized Kingdom. That can include some of you. If you join us and fight in the front lines, your life could change. Speak to the soldiers who have already fought for me if you’re considering joining. They’ll tell you what the conditions are like. Even the non-fighters might be able to contribute, so think about ways that you can assist our efforts. Hard work will not go unrewarded in the world we’re building.
“Also, once I have enough undead, and we’ve taken over, the smarter ones can work as your security forces. You’ll never be attacked with impunity - like what I just did - again. Not as long as you’re loyal to your country. If some enemy army attacks your home, I’ll at least avenge you with disproportionate force. I’ll make them fear the prospect of attacking you.
“When we seize the capital, we’ll reform the laws, too. I’ll abolish the law on primogeniture. Inheritance will be the responsibility of every head of family to decide, not just nobles who can grease the right palms. And I’ll erase the stigma of bastardy. Every child deserves to bear his father’s name and hold some rights to his father’s support.” The whores were all nodding at this, some of them smiled, and more than a handful looked down at children they had with them. “There’s more than that, of course. The Kingdom is corrupt in many different ways. That’s why your taxes are so damned high. Everyone gets a slice. When I rule, I’ll put every corrupt official on trial and make them face the people they’ve robbed for years. I’ll let you decide their fates!”
There were some cheers as Tybalt took a breath, and the necromancer saw that the mood of the crowd in general was elevated. They at least weren’t as depressed as they’d been twenty minutes before.
That’s enough for one day, he thought. I’d better shut up before I start making promises I can’t keep. Everything he had mentioned so far was something he had already been thinking about, some change he would make if he had power. Some of the ideas, like the legal changes he’d mentioned or the pursuit of corrupt officials, were things he’d mused about for years. He didn’t want to start talking about things he knew nothing about.
“But the first step we have to take toward building the future is destroying the past,” the necromancer said, speaking over the cheers. He turned his head and raised his voice. “Mariella!”
The fire mage responded instantly. She had been concentrating her mana over the last thirty minutes, preparing one attack that would use up just about everything she had. At Tybalt’s order, she hurled a single, massive fireball into the center of Grain.
The town had been so thoroughly suffused in accelerants that the flames spread quite rapidly, traveling from the center to all corners of the settlement in a couple of minutes.
What was more impressive was the effect the fire had.
Stone and earthen buildings began to melt, explode, and even, impossibly, actually burn under the power of Mariella’s magical flames. Most of the town was not flammable by conventional understandings of fire. Most desert buildings were not composed of wood, since it was difficult to transport all the way out here. Closer to civilization, things would be different, but here, clay brick was the most common material.
Tybalt had seen Mariella burn things for an improbably long time before, though. He’d had a sense that her powers were well beyond the natural. Now he was proven correct.
So, her Chthonic Fire can destroy things that don’t burn from natural fire. Good to know.
The fire mage walked over to one of the nearby carts and dropped onto her back, panting and sweaty, visibly spent. Tybalt knew that the fire would probably continue to consume her mana for the rest of the morning, at least, at a rate barely sustainable with her mana regeneration rate.
On the bright side, with such a dramatic display from her, he knew he was done with his speech.
“Move out!”