Defiant Necromancer (Book 2 stubbing July 3)

“Your Majesty, I should tell you- ” began Miron before another man grabbed him by the arm and gave him a sharp look.

Tybalt was watching the Grand Beastfolk Army parade into Humun, a goblet of wine in one hand, Kistana sitting beside him holding his other hand with a flustered expression on her face. They sat on the balcony on the second floor of the Mayor’s house, with the others who had been present when Tybalt killed the Mayor standing around waiting for any orders the necromancer might give them.

He turned to look at the watchman who had spoken.

“Finish your thought, Miron,” Tybalt said. He looked at the other man, one of the men in rich silks, for a long moment before the man released his hold on the watchman’s sleeve.

He doesn’t look happy about letting Miron speak. Or maybe it’s about the fact that I’m asserting any authority at all, counter to his wishes. I may need to make more examples in the weeks to come… No, I don’t want people to think they die just for annoying me. That’s a good way to start getting servants who just tell you whatever they think you want to hear. Still, I should probably kill the town’s former elites now. They’re bound to be disgruntled, and they don’t yet understand my power well enough to fear me to the degree they should. And I’d really rather not come back to this town to quell rebellions unless I have to. It’s too small to be worth that much time when I’m trying to conquer a whole nation. Perhaps a dose of my virus will do the trick. If I just tailor it to these two men specifically and make it non-infectious to others, Eolas can’t complain about that, right? It’s no different than poisoning them, except that I don’t carry poisons with me. How many other elites like that can a little town like this have?

“I imagined you would want to know, sir, that there are probably more bandits out there,” Miron said haltingly. “This force came, because the late Lord Mayor decided we were fortified enough to stop paying them protection money. But I didn’t see all of their leaders among the dead, when you and your men were killing them. No doubt some of them are still alive.”

He stepped over to the edge of the balcony, leaned out, and pointed at a trio of mountains.

“Is that where they’re based?” Tybalt asked.

Miron nodded.

The necromancer turned to the silk-clad man. “Why didn’t you want him to speak?”

“I knew what he would say, and it’s a matter for our local security forces. Not something worth Your Majesty’s- ”

“That is the one and only time you will ever in your life get away with trying to conceal information from me,” Tybalt said coldly. “This is your warning. Don’t lie to me, don’t conceal. You won’t like it if I start suspecting you’re not truthful with me.”

The man swallowed. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

“And what’s your name?” Tybalt asked.

“Sir Damek, Your Majesty.”

“Are you much of a fighter, Sir Damek?”

“I… would not put myself on the same footing with Your Majesty, but I am here because I am a competent fighter, yes.”

A well worded answer, the necromancer thought. Are you sure you’re not here for your diplomatic skills? The old Mayor could have used those.

“You will work with my right hand revenant, Baldwin, to track these bandits to their hideout in the mountains. I will give you a force of undead and half of the town’s watch. You’ll exterminate the brigands. Bring back their bodies. I can always use more undead, and these bandits weren’t terrible fighters. If my undead suspect that there are more bandits out there, you will go back and kill more for me. They must surrender and serve me or die. I will have order in the lands I rule.”

Sir Damek stiffened visibly. “What about- ?” He gestured at Miron. “I mean, it’s his job to- ”

“Miron is responsible for the security of Humun,” Tybalt replied. “In the unlikely event that the town is attacked before you return, he will lead the effort to keep it safe. That was what he was doing when I appeared. I didn’t see you anywhere near the walls when I entered the town. But Miron here was directly leading the defenders.”

“That, I…”

“Do you disagree with your assignment?” the necromancer asked.

The silk-clad man shook his head quickly. “No, Your Majesty.”

“Very good.” Tybalt rose and looked down directly into Sir Damek’s eyes. At moments like these, it was nice to be taller than the average. “Prove yourself to me, Sir Damek. Show me that you are more valuable than you have been in the last couple of hours. There are opportunities for a man like you to rise high in my service. Far higher than a knighthood. If you earn it.”

Sir Damek nodded sharply. “Yes, Your Majesty!”

Tybalt couldn’t tell if the knight was animated primarily by fear or ambition at that moment. Probably the former, he guessed, but it shouldn’t matter. Either would serve.

The necromancer descended from the balcony and walked out of the Mayor’s house.

With his army installed inside the town, Tybalt walked back through the streets toward the exterior where the bodies were still gathered.

Kistana still followed him like a shadow, eyes peeled for any threat. He enjoyed that - and the strange, conflicting feelings that fluttered through his stomach.

On the one hand, it was a little strange to have a woman who was going to be his lover watching his back, ready to throw herself in the path of any arrow or spear thrust in his direction. She was certainly still physically stronger and faster than him, by sheer virtue of having a physical type of class. But it wasn’t his preference to be the receiver of protection.

On the other hand, Tybalt was a necromancer. He was supposed to receive protection, not fight directly himself. And he felt fairly certain that this town did still contain people who would have preferred him dead. Perhaps people he’d just been standing near. He wasn’t sure how durable his most recent levels had made him, but he could still vividly remember being splattered into red paste by a dragon casually closing its hands on him. He knew he was legitimately safer with the catgirl protecting him.

And then there was the third feeling. She was gorgeous… and all his. Devoted to him, as she had proven time and time again. He wanted to shove her against a wall and kiss her.

He restrained that feeling and instead turned back to give her an affectionate look. In response, she just put a hand on his waist, gently squeezing his side. It could have been somewhat ambiguous - like a move to keep him from walking too fast for her to adequately check threats around them - but he could tell she just wanted to touch him. That made it sweet, a gesture of affection.

They stepped through the front gates.

“The tablets are planted, master,” Edgard sent telepathically.

The necromancer acknowledged it. Ahead of him, he saw Victoria kneeling among the gathered corpses, praying. Tybalt thought he could sense her divine power this time, where he had hardly been able to perceive it before.

That dragon fight did something for all of us, he thought.

Dero, Mariella, Victoria, Vidalia, and Kistana all had new skills, just like Tybalt - albeit by a different mechanism than the lengthy duel he’d had with the monster. They had simply gained a varying number of levels for their participation and survival. Victoria’s connection to the Death God was even stronger now, too.

The mummies were all in the double digits now, too, though unfortunately, the nature of that form of undead was that it purely preserved what they had been capable of in life. Only their stats increased with additional levels, not their skills.

I need to check Baldwin’s status. He will have certainly gained something too.

Victoria rose to her feet and stepped out from among the corpses. She had managed to keep her dress free of the blood that had dyed the sand a dark burgundy, Tybalt saw.

“I hope my efforts will meet with your approval, future husband,” she said with a little smile. She was slightly breathless but stood proudly in front of her work product.

“I’m sure they will,” the necromancer replied, returning the smile.

He extended a hand toward the dead flesh and reached out with his power. Undead Reconstruction.

Dozens of threads of dark green mana shot out from his finger tips like silk from spider spinnerets and began coiling around the pieces of bodies. Like a gifted seamstress’s fingers, they pulled material back together and deftly combined it according to his vision, quickly rendering the seams invisible.

I feel more intelligent while I’m using this skill, Tybalt thought. Like I can see and process every thread and stitch at once, across all the damaged bodies. I can’t usually split my attention like this. Is it a relic of the lich brain or is it because I’m exercising my capacity more?

It didn’t matter, unless it was a result he could replicate in other situations. But if he could do that, it would be incredibly valuable.

As the bodies came together, Tybalt focused on the feeling that performing the technical task at such a high level gave him. Like he understood everything about those bodies, all at once.

Sooner than he would have preferred, he was done. Most of those the beastfolk had killed had not been torn to pieces, so it was really mostly those Dero had diced up that had needed repairs.

The necromancer pushed mana into the sand, reaching out for the stone tablets that should be buried all around. He felt it when his energy touched them.

Then the area the bodies occupied began to glow. Dead things started to move with new life.

New type of creation generated, bonus experience granted!

New type of creation generated, bonus experience granted!

At the same time that he received the alert, Tybalt’s legs shook as his mana dropped to near the bottom. He almost tumbled to the ground, but Kistana was there to put an arm around him.

“You all right, my l - I mean, Tybalt?” she breathed into his ear.

The sensation of her breath touching him sent a little blood flowing to one particular lower extremity.

“I’m low on mana,” he managed. “Lower than I’ve been in a long time. It makes me woozy.”

And even with two new creations, I didn’t get a new level. Damn.

On the bright side, he seemed to have had sufficient power to raise the hundreds of dead. Nothing on the ground before them was still, though the bodies closest to Tybalt that had risen to their feet obscured his view of the more distant corpses.

“Lean on me,” Kistana said.

Victoria appeared on his other side and wrapped another arm around him.

“And me,” she said. “I’m here too.”

The necromancer smiled.

His women had never seemed directly competitive with each other in this way.

Maybe there are too many of them now. Maybe it can’t be balanced if there are this many women and one man.

“Thank you for helping balance him, Lady Victoria,” Kistana said sweetly.

The two women shared a smile.

“I wasn’t going to let you have all the fun,” Victoria said. “And you don’t need to call me ‘Lady,’ anymore, I don’t think. Tybalt’s probably making you a wife, too…” She ended that sentence in a slight lilt, almost as if asking a question. “Anyway, if we’re both here, we can look like we’re being affectionate and cuddling with him. With just you there, people would be able to tell you were holding him up. We don’t want Tybalt to look weak.”

Then again, maybe things are just right the way they are.

Tybalt sensed the dead looking to him for commands, so he reluctantly turned away from his fiancees to look back at them.

He sensed a couple of wight knights, several revenants, a lot of zombies, a nachzehrer… and there was something strange right looming almost right in front of him, glowing gently.

I forgot the bandits had a fair number of women among them. Or rather, I guess I didn’t even think about it.

“Hello, master,” said a slightly shrill voice that sounded like it was attempting to whisper. Even the relatively quiet sound made him clutch his ears in mild pain.

A banshee.

“Please don’t speak aloud unless you’re using it as an offensive weapon for my benefit,” Tybalt said quietly.

The banshee bowed low with an apologetic smile.

“Understood, master. I must grow accustomed to this form… this power.” Her inner voice was surprisingly soft and gentle.

Behind the glowing, translucent figure of the banshee, a massive frame rose from the sand. Tybalt sensed that there had been a number of bodies there, but without him willing it, they had combined together on their own.

Flesh had melted away, and bones had fused.

A giant skeleton that looked to be over thirty feet tall suddenly loomed over everyone. The huge skull, green eyes burning bright in its sockets, stared at Tybalt.

Then it took a knee in front of him.

Wordlessly, it signaled its submission.

Tybalt looked at it, and a system alert appeared.

You have created a Gashadokuro undead using disparate sets of body parts. Name your creation? Y/N

Gashadokuro…