Necromancer: Kingdom Building with My Legion of Undead Knights

Darion grimaced at the thought of the creature.

How would something like that even look in action.

It wasn’t the description Sir Garren had given him that bothered him the most, it was the blindness.

If Darion had heard the creature was blind before hearing it was dangerous, he would have laughed it off. Told them a blind animal, however large, shouldn’t be a problem. They could tiptoe around it, keep their distance, find cover and...

Use a bow and arrow. Shoot it from afar.

Why hadn’t the knights thought of that!

Since the Bogoarts were large and powerful, engaging one in close combat was obviously a terrible idea. But targeting from a distance was a completely different equation. It gave them momentum, control, and the overall advantage. A large spear thrown from far enough away would do serious damage to anything, blind or not.

Though he wasn’t sure if they had already tried that and it hadn’t worked. He could only find out by asking.

And this business of hunting by its senses, how deeply did the creature actually rely on that. For something blind to consistently come out on top against trained knights, those senses had to be working at a level that went beyond normal.

”Have you ever actually managed to kill one?” Darion asked. ”After all the losses?”

The lanky knight who had been speaking shook his head.

”No.”

No?

”How sharp are its senses exactly?” Darion asked.

Sir Garren, who seemed to have studied the creatures more than most, answered.

”It can detect humans from a distance using smell alone. When it does, it doesn’t charge immediately, it prepares. Finds cover near a tree or anywhere concealing, goes still, and waits. The knights march forward thinking the creature is still ahead of them, and it sprouts out from the side and tears into them. Tail, hooves, horn: whatever it has available.”

”If it’s blind, how does it navigate the forest well enough to hide?” Darion asked.

”I believe it has adapted,” Garren replied. ”The forest is its territory. It knows it.”

The lanky knight cut in.

”We’ve tried rubbing mud on ourselves. Covering our bodies in leaves, wearing cloaks so thick you’d think nothing could smell through them.” He shook his head. ”Doesn’t matter. The creature still finds us every time. It’s like the smell goes through everything we put on.”

Darion went quiet for a moment, turning it over.

The Bogoarts could smell the hunters through mud, through leaves, through thick cloaking. Every concealment attempt had failed. Which meant the creature wasn’t detecting surface smells.

”If everything you’ve used to cover yourselves has made no difference,” Darion said slowly, ”Then the creature isn’t smelling what’s on you. It’s smelling what’s in you.”

The lanky knight blinked. It was clear from his expression that the thought had never occurred to him.

Darion turned to Garren. ”Is that the case?”

”Yes — yes, m’lord,” Garren said, stuttering. ”That would explain it. The blood. It detects the blood. And that same ability would give it the upper hand over every other creature in those woods too.”

Darion scratched his chin, doing it repeatedly without noticing.

Then it hit him.

If the Bogoart hunted by detecting blood, it would find nothing from his undead. No blood, no flesh, nothing to smell. Just bone. He wasn’t certain, but he was fairly sure a Bogoart’s senses would slide right past a skeleton without registering anything at all.

He looked at the assembled knights. They were watching him with something vaguely resembling expectation, like they were waiting to see what conclusion he had arrived at. Even Garren was doing the same.

A knight lying on the floor, thin and exhausted, spoke up before Darion could.

”Hunting isn’t the best decision anyway. Maybe we farm instead. The knights could turn into full-time farmers for you... m’lord.”

After a moment, Darion replied.

”We’ll do that too. Of course we’ll farm. But we’ll also hunt.”

The words landed strangely. The knights exchanged glances. That was clearly not what they had been expecting him to say. Even Garren looked mildly caught off guard.

”Respectfully, m’lord,” the lanky knight said, ”Being hopeful and brave won’t help us. It’ll only get us killed.”

But Darion looked more certain than ever.

”I’ll be going to hunt this evening,” he said, stepping slightly closer to them. ”And I’d like some of you to come with me.” He paused. ”I’m not commanding anyone. I won’t order you into something you believe will kill you. But I believe I can make a difference out there, with you beside me.”

Several long seconds passed. The knights muttered among themselves, looking Darion over. They were probably trying to work out what made this Baron any different from the ones before him, and what exactly he thought he had that would change anything against a Bogoart.

He hadn’t asked all of them, just some. Volunteers. You would have thought that would be enough. That the boldness of a new Baron willing to walk into those woods himself would have stirred something in at least a few of them. Driven out the fear for just long enough to make one man stand up and say enough, that he was tired of starving and tired of waiting and tired of the forest winning.

Not one hand went up.

They didn’t even speak. One by one, slowly, they shook their heads. All one hundred and twenty-one of them, until the lanky knight finally gave the silence a voice.

”That means no, m’lord. We won’t be following you.”

Darion turned to Garren.

The man bowed his head apologetically. ”As much as I would give anything for Percvale, m’lord, being careful is what has kept me alive this long.”

Any reasonable person would have taken that as the final word and reconsidered. Every single knight, his knight commander included, had said no. But Darion only shrugged and turned back to face them.

”Then I’ll go alone.”

He let that sit for a moment, then raised his voice just slightly.

”I’ll come back with a Bogoart.” A short pause. ”Maybe two.”