Necromancer: Kingdom Building with My Legion of Undead Knights

By nighttime they were done with the Bogoart soup.

The knights ate in the barracks, plates in hand, sitting wherever there was space. They tore through the meat like men who hadn’t seen a proper meal in months, because they hadn’t actually.

This felt like paradise in a way, like a dream come true. They were eating actual meat, and this wasn’t something small like killing a little bushmeat, instead, it was so enormous that it made them feel bloated.

Their faces were lit up by the fire crackling in the middle of the place, the wood popping and shifting as the warmth spread through the space, and for the first time in what sounded like a long time, there was actual noise coming from the barracks. Talking, laughing, the sound of people who had temporarily forgotten how bad things were.

They had forgotten their dire states and that they were hopeless in the long run. They just lived in the moment.

Darion and Garren ate in the great hall with the three castle servants — the cook, and a man and a woman whose exact roles Darion hadn’t yet figured out. They sat at one end of the long table and ate mostly in silence. The servants kept glancing at each other, clearly finding it strange to be sharing a table with the Baron. Darion didn’t comment on it.

Today he was just trying to give people something. Tomorrow the real work started.

He knew a functioning barony needed something to sustain it, some main source of income, something it was built around. Mines, farmland, trade routes. Percvale had to have had something before it became whatever it was now. After the servants cleared their plates and left the hall, he turned to Garren, the two of them alone at the long table.

”Didn’t Percvale have any main source of income before all this? Large farms, mines, anything?”

Garren, who had been sitting back in his chair looking considerably more relaxed than he had all day, answered without moving much.

”No mines. If we had those it would be a different story entirely, mines are the backbone of most wealthy kingdoms around here.” He paused. ”But we did have large farmlands. Crops, livestock, cows, cattle, plenty more. It was substantial.”

Darion raised a brow. ”So Percvale was actually doing well at some point. I had assumed it had always been like this.”

Garren laughed, short and polite. ”No, m’lord. We were doing just fine, until the Varrels came.”

”The Varrels?”

”A neighboring barony, not far from here. They invaded, ravaged the land, stole the livestock, took the crops, and burned the farmlands on their way out. Whatever they couldn’t carry, they destroyed.”

Darion frowned. ”Why? What was the reason?”

”Their barony had been hit by a severe famine. So they looked at us, saw that we were doing well, and decided the simplest solution was to take what we had.” Garren’s voice was flat, the way a man spoke about something he had long since run out of anger for. ”Which I might have understood, if all they had done was steal. Hungry men steal, that’s just how it is. But they burned the farmland too. Weakened the soil. That wasn’t hunger, I see it as making sure we couldn’t recover.”

”Malicious,” Darion said.

”Yes.” Garren shrugged. ”But that’s the reality of living out here where the Emperor’s reach barely extends. This part of the continent largely governs itself. We complained to the Emperor at the time. Nothing came of it.”

Darion said nothing, letting it settle.

”And the Varrels were just the beginning,” Garren continued. ”Word gets around when a barony starts weakening. After them came others, more invasions, more theft, each one leaving us smaller than before. And when we finally went to war to fight back against what had been done to us—” he stopped, exhaled slowly through his nose. ”That was what finished it. We weren’t strong enough. They tore us apart. The knights we lost in those wars are the reason we’re sitting at a hundred and twenty-one today.”

Darion stared at the table.

It was all connected. The debt, the empty farmlands, the barren soil, the barracks full of starving men, none of it was random neglect. It was the accumulated result of being attacked repeatedly with no one coming to help and no strength left to defend themselves properly.

”You were there,” Darion said, looking at Garren. ”For the invasions and the wars?”

Garren nodded. ”Every one of them. I’m the only knight still alive who was. That’s partly why I’m commander, there’s no one left from that time but me.” He paused. ”Survived all of it, somehow. Like some kind of living wonder.” A brief, dry smile crossed his face.

Darion looked at him for a moment longer than necessary. There was something quietly remarkable about the man sitting across from him, someone who had watched everything fall apart piece by piece and was still here, still showing up every morning, still bowing to whatever Baron the Emperor saw fit to send.

”Thank you for telling me all of this, Sir Garren,” Darion said, rising from his chair.

”It’s a pleasure, m’lord.”

”One more thing, write me the names of every barony and kingdom that invaded Percvale. Every one that stole from us and left us like this.”

Garren looked up at him. ”Why, m’lord?”

Darion was already walking toward the stairs.

”Because to rebuild Percvale into what it was, we’ll need to take back what was taken from us.” He paused on the first step. ”Call it vengeance if you like.”

”With what army, m’lord?” Garren said, and it wasn’t mockery, it was only a genuine question from a man who had counted every sword in the barracks and knew... Percvale wasn’t in a good state to go on wars or reclaim what was stolen.

Darion smiled slightly.

”Not today. Not this month even. But we’ll get there. We start tomorrow, with the hunt, the knights coming with us this time. That’s step one.” He started up the stairs. ”Write those names, Sir Garren.”