Necromancer: Kingdom Building with My Legion of Undead Knights

Caef arrived at Vrethka after a few hours of travel. The journey had been hard in a way, his body still weak from grief and the long walk, but he had pushed through. He had no choice. Gonnb was gone, and the only thing left was the need to move forward.

The settlement appeared on the horizon as the sun began to dip low, casting long shadows across the land.

Vrethka was not a barony, not a kingdom either. It was something older and more self-contained, a tribal structure that had existed long before the borders of the current kingdoms had been drawn.

Several hundred people lived here, their homes clustered together behind a wall of sharpened logs. The wall was not grand, but it was functional, designed to slow down attackers rather than stop them entirely.

Caef had been here many times before, trading grain and livestock from Gonnb for protection along the border road.

He knew the layout, the people, the rhythms of daily life. But this time, everything felt different. This time, he was not a trader. He was a supplicant, a man with nothing left to offer except a story of destruction and a request for help.

He passed through the gate, his eyes scanning the familiar sights. Children playing in the dirt. Women tending to fires. Men sharpening weapons and repairing tools. The settlement was alive in a way that Gonnb no longer was, and the contrast made his chest ache.

He was directed to the war chief’s hall, a large wooden structure at the center of the settlement. The hall was built from thick timber, its roof covered in layers of thatch and animal hide. Inside, the air was warm and smoky, lit by a central fire pit that cast flickering shadows across the walls.

War Chief Dross sat at the far end of the hall, his broad frame settled into a carved wooden chair. He was a large man, his arms thick with muscle, his face weathered by years of wind and sun.

He had been leading Vrethka for a decade, and his reputation was well earned. He was not a man who made decisions lightly.

Flanking him were his council of five elders, their faces lined with age, their eyes sharp with experience. They watched Caef as he entered, their gazes appraising, curious and wary.

Caef stopped before the war chief and bowed his head. ”Dross,” he said, his voice steady despite the exhaustion in his bones. ”I need your help.”

Dross studied him for a long moment. ”Caef,” he said finally. ”You look like you’ve been through something terrible.”

”I have,” Caef said. ”Gonnb is gone.”

The words hung in the air. The council exchanged glances. Dross leaned forward slightly, his expression shifting from curiosity to something more serious.

”Explain,” he said.

Caef told him everything. He held nothing back. He started with the attack on the Percvale knights, the stripping of their horses and goods, the beating they had taken.

He described his brother’s decision to refuse compensation, the killing of the messenger, the head sent back to Percvale as a response.

He was honest about the sequence because Dross would find out anyway, and being caught hiding the provocation was worse than admitting it.

Then he described what came after. The night attack. The men who died without visible wounds, clutching their chests and necks.

The dead things that moved in the dark, that didn’t bleed, that didn’t fall when struck. The fire that spread fast leaving nothing but ash and charcoal. The livestock, stolen. The young woman, taken.

Dross listened without interrupting. His face remained still, but his eyes moved, processing, calculating. The council listened too, their expressions shifting from skepticism to concern as Caef’s account unfolded.

When Caef finished, the silence stretched. The fire crackled and the shadows danced.

Dross leaned back in his chair. ”This Baron,” he said. ”Who is he?”

”I don’t know much,” Caef admitted. ”Only that he’s new. Percvale has been dead for years. Their Barons came and went, weak men who did nothing. This one is different. He destroyed Gonnb in a single night.”

Dross nodded slowly. ”What kind of force does he command?”

”Undead,” Caef said. ”The survivors described them as walking dead. Soldiers who didn’t bleed, didn’t fall and didn’t stop. And a wolf that wasn’t alive.”

Dross’s expression didn’t change, but Caef saw the council members exchange glances. They had heard stories of Necromancers, but they had never encountered one.

”Percvale has been dead for years,” Dross said. ”A rotting Barony that everyone wrote off. Now this new Baron appears and burns a village in a single night with dead but still living creatures.” He paused. ”He must be a Necromancer.”

”Yes,” Caef said.

Dross was quiet for a moment. Then he said, ”You attacked first. Your brother killed a messenger. That is the kind of thing that ends badly in every tale of disputes I have ever heard.”

Caef nodded. ”I know.”

Dross continued. ”You want me to send my people to fight this Baron. To risk their lives for a village that no longer exists.”

”I want you to help me,” Caef said. ”I’m not asking you to die for Gonnb. I’m asking you to see what’s coming.”

Dross raised an eyebrow. ”And what is coming?”

Caef met his gaze. ”Percvale is recovering. Growing. A recovering Barony on the trade road that runs past your territory changes the regional balance. If Percvale becomes strong enough, the road becomes theirs. The trade relationships you depend on shift. The independence you have maintained by being too small and too inconvenient to bother with becomes less reliable.”

He paused, letting the words sink in. ”Percvale might become so powerful they would claim everything here.”

The council murmured among themselves. Dross remained still, his eyes fixed on Caef.

”You’re not asking for vengeance,” Dross said slowly. ”You’re asking me to protect my own interests.”

”I’m asking you to see the future,” Caef said. ”Vengeance is what drove me here. But what will keep you listening is the truth.”

The hall fell silent again. Dross looked at his council, then back at Caef. He stood, his large frame rising from the chair.

He agreed. Not to a full assault, Vrethka didn’t have the numbers for that. But a raid. Targeted and fast, designed to hurt rather than destroy. Hit the farmland again. Hit the livestock. Keep Percvale unstable and focused inward rather than outward.

Dross extended his hand. Caef took it.

Deal!