Necromancer: Kingdom Building with My Legion of Undead Knights

Darion turned and walked toward the voice.

The structure was easy to miss. It sat apart from the main cluster of huts, set back from the southern pen where the livestock had been kept, built from the same rough timber as everything else in the settlement but smaller and without the characteristics of a dwelling.

There was no fireplace around, no window either, only four walls and a door secured from the outside with a heavy wooden bar dropped into iron brackets. It looked like something that wasn’t built for comfort or habitation. The kind built for keeping something in.

The knight who had called out was standing in front of it, looking at Darion.

”There’s someone inside, m’lord.”

Darion looked at the bar on the door. Then at the structure. Then he walked to it and stopped.

”Who’s in there,” he said.

There was a pause. Then a voice from inside, a woman’s voice.

”My name is Seren. I’ve been here for four months as a prisoner. I’m not one of them.”

Darion looked at the bar again, it was clear she wasn’t one of them. She was clothed in a better looking gown than what the villagers wore and even though it was now tattered due to being in the prison for long, it was evident.

”Well, are you hurt?” Darion asked.

”No. Just — please open the door.”

”Why should I,” Darion asked.

The lady tried to speak but didn’t exactly know what to say. When Darion asked if she was okay she had thought he would just open the door.

”What are you?” Darion asked. Not unkindly, just directly, because the structure she had been kept in was purpose-built and people weren’t kept in purpose-built structures for no reason.

What were the odds she was someone dangerous...

”I’m a Soilsinger,” she said.

Garren made a small sound to Darion’s left. Not surprise exactly, but recognition. He knew what a Soilsinger was.

Darion looked at her. ”What does that mean?”

”I can work with earth,” she said. ”Dead soil, barren ground, land that’s been stripped or burned or exhausted, I can restore it. Bring it back to productivity.” She said it plainly, without the performance of someone making an impressive claim, just describing a fact about herself. ”Gonnb took me because their fields had been failing for two seasons. They wanted me to fix them.”

”And you refused, that’s why you’re here.”

”Yes, I refused.” Her voice was steady. ”So they kidnapped me and said until I helped them, they wouldn’t let me go. I’m surprised they haven’t killed me yet, probably because of how invaluable I am.”

Darion looked at her for a moment.

He was thinking about the farmlands back at Percvale. He had ridden out to it with Garren and saw the pale, cracked earth, the soil that crumbled to powder between his fingers and the ghost of furrow lines that told you it had once been something and was no longer.

Garren had told him months of preparation, the right resources and people who knew what they were doing. He had been turning the problem over since then without arriving at a solution that didn’t require either significant time or significant resources he didn’t have.

But facing him right now, was his answer. Facing him right now was a Soilsinger.

He hadn’t known that was a category of person that existed. But he was standing in front of one, outside a burning settlement,and the farmland was sitting back in Percvale exactly as barren as it had been the day he rode out to look at it.

”Do you know Percvale?”

Something crossed her face. ”The barony to the west. The dying, or rather dead place?”

Dying or rather dead? What a bad reputation Percvale had.

”It was,” Darion said. ”It’s in the process of becoming something else.” He looked at the burning settlement behind her, then back at her. ”You’re free,” he said to her.

She looked at him flatly then around her. She was like:

’Does this look like free to you? You haven’t freed me.’

”Percvale has farmland that hasn’t produced anything in years,” Darion started. ”Burned soil, stripped earth, kind of the same problem Gonnb wanted you for except that I’m asking instead of forcing” He paused.

’Instead of Forcing’ was a strong word. One that even amused Garren.

Yes, he was not forcing her but he hadn’t released her from the prison which meant he was indirectly asking her to work for him or...

”If you want work, and somewhere to go that isn’t here, I have both,” Darion continued. ”And if you refuse then we’ll just let you enjoy the freedom and peace of mind that burning to death alongside a burning village gives.”

She looked at him for a long moment. The kind of look that was doing more than one thing simultaneously.

Darion was sure she hated him but he did not mind, he needed her ability and if he was to ask politely (this was polite actually) and give her the freedom of leaving, she would definitely choose leaving.

Now she assessed him, assessed the situation, measuring the offer against whatever her alternatives currently were. Her only alternative was death...

”What would I be paid,” she finally said.

Darion blinked. He hadn’t gotten that far to be able to pay but...

He looked at Garren, who looked back at him with the expression of a man who had no immediate answer either but appreciated that the question had been asked.

”We’ll figure that out.,” Darion said. ”But I can assure you’ll be paid. If the things we plant do well and we sell them, we’ll definitely pay you.”

She looked at him for another moment, then at the burning settlement, then back at him.

She had no choice.

”It’s a deal,” she said.

Darion immediately lifted the bar and pulled the door open.

She came out slowly, the way someone came out of a confined space after a long time in it, carefully, adjusting to the open air, one hand on the doorframe for a moment before releasing it.

She was young, somewhere near Darion’s apparent age, with dark hair and a stunning face. She was really beautiful, Darion noted.

She looked at the burning settlement behind Darion, at the column of knights and livestock and at... everything and then at Darion.

She didn’t ask what had happened. She had presumably heard enough of the night to construct an answer without help.

”I’ll need my things,” she said. ”They took them when they brought me here. There’s a hut on the northern side, the large one near the well. They’ll be in there.”

Darion looked at one of the nearby knights and nodded toward the northern section.

”Check if it’s not been burnt yet.”

The knight went. Came back seven minutes later with a worn leather pack and a wrapped bundle that clinked slightly when it moved, the sound of glass or ceramic objects packed carefully together.

He had found it without Seren even coming along.

Some Talented knight...

Seren took them both and checked the bundle first, unwrapping a corner and looking at what was inside before wrapping it back up and shouldering the pack.

”They’re tools,” she said, apparently to Darion’s unasked question. ”For the work.”

The column was fully formed now, knights in order, livestock at the rear, the undead in inventory and Gonnb burning with real commitment behind them.

Darion looked at the column, then at Seren, and called one of the knights forward.

”She rides with you,” he said. ”Make it a comfortable ride.”

The knight nodded and brought his horse alongside. Seren looked at the horse, looked at the knight, and mounted up behind him.

Darion turned and started walking toward the front of the column.

Garren fell into step beside him.

”A Soilsinger,” Garren said, quiet enough that it was just between them.

”Yes.”

”Do you know what that’s worth?”

”I’m beginning to.”

Garren was quiet for a moment. ”The farmlands...”

”Yes.”

”If she can actually do what she says—”

”Then we don’t need months and resources we don’t have,” Darion said. ”We need her.”

Garren said nothing further. He had the expression of a man genuinely excited but trying to conceal it.

The column moved out onto the road heading north.

Darion walked at the front, the cold night air steady against his face, the road dark and empty ahead of them. Behind him the column stretched back — living knights, the sound of livestock moving in the rear, somewhere in the middle a young woman with a worn leather pack and a bundle of tools riding behind a knight and looking at the road ahead.

She was definitely thinking about what the next Chapter of her life would look like.

He didn’t look back at Gonnb,he could basically see it in front of him.

The light of it was visible on the ground ahead of him, cast forward by the fire behind.