Necromancer: Kingdom Building with My Legion of Undead Knights

The meat was for the archers.

Technically, it should have been his. They were his subjects, hunting on his land. By every rule that mattered, the animals belonged to the Baron.

He was even sure the archers wouldn’t object. If he told them that they had done a good job and then claimed all the meat for the castle, they would probably just nod and accept it.

Not because they didn’t want the meat, but because that was what they expected. That was how things had always worked under the old Barons.

You served, you obeyed, and you didn’t question where the rewards went. The fact that he had already praised them, told them he was proud, told them they had done well, had made them proud.

You could see it in the way they stood, the way they held their heads higher than when they had first walked through the gate. They had come back expecting maybe a nod of acknowledgment.

Instead, they had gotten genuine approval from their Baron. For some of them, that alone was probably more than they had ever received from any ruler in their entire lives.

And they had brought all the meat to the castle. Every single carcass. Every rabbit, every Cteedle, even the Bogart. They hadn’t stopped at the village to drop off portions for their families. They hadn’t hidden anything away in the forest to collect later. They had brought everything directly to the courtyard and presented it without being asked. That meant they had no prior intention of taking some home for themselves.

They had assumed the castle would take it all. They had assumed their reward would be whatever the Baron decided to give them, if anything at all. That was probably the mindset of people who had spent years under a different leadership. They didn’t expect fair treatment. They just hoped for it.

Normally, when he sent knights into the forest to hunt, they came back with whatever they had killed, and the process was simple. Everyone helped with the butchering. The meat was divided. Most of it went to Maret for the castle kitchens. The knights didn’t walk away carrying halves of deer home with them. That wasn’t how it worked.

But this was different.

He hadn’t sent the archers to hunt. He had woken up this morning, sat down to discuss barony matters with Garren, and Seren had walked in and announced that the archers would be going hunting. Just like that.

When he heard it, he had been surprised. Not what he expected to hear at all. He had even been worried about their safety: archers in the forest, no knights to protect them if something went wrong. But when Seren mentioned that two knights would be going with them, he had authorized it.

This was supposed to be a training hunt. Yes, the goal had been to kill creatures and bring back meat, but he hadn’t expected it to turn out this good. Not even close.

The archers had helped in Percvale’s battles before, twice against Valdenmoor. First during the assault with the two hundred knights, and second during Percvale’s retaliation. But they hadn’t really fought. Not in the way he meant. They had stayed on rooftops and in trees, firing shots from safety. They had never faced an enemy on foot, drawing arrows while standing on the ground, looking a charging opponent in the face.

That would be different. That was real combat archery.

Darion knew about that kind of fighting. He had watched it on television back on Earth. He had played video games where archers ran alongside swordsmen, firing arrows into enemies while dodging attacks. Neck shots, head shots, quick draws under pressure. It looked exciting on a screen, but doing it for real? That was something else entirely.

This hunt had been the archers’ first real test of that. Not staying on a rooftop and firing at distant targets, but actually being on the ground, moving through the forest, tracking prey, reacting to threats, taking shots while chaos unfolded around them. A Bogart charging. A knight about to die. An arrow released in the span of a heartbeat.

The archers had proved they could do it. They could fight on a battlefield together, taking shots at enemies while staying mobile, staying aware, and staying alive. They had worked as a unit, coordinated without needing to shout, and brought down creatures that would have killed lesser groups.

The objective of the hunt had been fulfilled. The training had worked. The meat was just the benefit, a very large benefit, but still just the benefit.

And the archers deserved it. They deserved a large portion of the meat to take to their families, their households, to use for themselves. They had risked their lives, pushed their skills, and come back with enough food to feed half the barony. A simple ”thank you” wasn’t enough. They needed something real, something they could hold, something that showed their work had value.

And it wasn’t like the castle was starving right now and desperately needed every scrap of meat. Things had changed. There were barely any people living in the castle compared to what it could hold — just Darion, Garren, Seren, Wulfric, Maret and Aldra.

The knights had their own quarters outside. The archers went home to their families at night.

On top of that, the knights had started going on hunts regularly now. They didn’t need Darion to lead them into the forest anymore. They went on their own, in small groups, bringing back deer and boar and whatever else they could find. The castle had a steady supply of meat coming in. Not a mountain like this, but enough. Enough that Maret wasn’t worrying about empty shelves. Enough that Darion could afford to be generous.

So there was no practical reason to hoard all seven Cteedles. The castle didn’t need that much meat. It would just sit in storage, slowly being used over weeks and weeks. .

So Darion made his decision.

”Half of the meat goes to you all.”

For a moment, silence followed. Then several archers blinked, clearly not expecting that.

Darion continued. ”The other half goes to the castle.”