Necromancer: Kingdom Building with My Legion of Undead Knights

The cheering died down slowly, the sound fading into the morning air.

The knights stood in their ranks, their faces with pride, their eyes still bright.

They had seen what they had built, and it had filled them with a sense of accomplishment that they hadn’t felt in years.

Darion raised his hand for silence. The murmuring stopped almost immediately, the knights’ attention snapping back to him.

”I know we’ve achieved a lot,” he said, his voice carrying across the field. ”The farmlands are restored. The livestock is here. The pens are built. We have food, we have animals, we have hope. But there’s still more work to do.”

He paused, letting his words sink in.

”I want to talk about the knight barracks,” Darion continued. ”Right now, its condition isn’t favorable. It’s drafty, cramped, the roof leaking in places, the walls cracked. It’s not a place that honors the men who live there.”

The knights exchanged glances. They knew the barracks were in bad shape.

They had been sleeping in them for years, enduring the cold and the damp and the draft. They had learned to live with it, to ignore the dripping ceiling and the crumbling walls. But they had never forgotten what it was like to sleep in a warm, dry place.

Darion described the barracks as it currently stood: drafty, cramped, the roof leaking in several places, the walls cracked and crumbling.

The windows were old and drafty, their frames rotting. The doors didn’t close properly, letting in the cold air and the sounds of the night. The floors were uneven, the wooden planks warped by years of moisture. It was a place that had been neglected for years, left to decay while the barony struggled to survive.

”It’s not a place that honors the men who live there,” Darion said. ”And that’s going to change.”

The knights looked up, their eyes curious. They had heard promises before, from other Barons who had come and gone. But something about the way Darion spoke made them believe him.

”I’m making a promise to you,” Darion said. ”The barracks will be rebuilt. Properly. Soon. You deserve all deserve a better place.”

The knights were silent, their faces a mix of surprise and gratitude. They hadn’t expected this. Some of the older knights, who had been sleeping in the same crumbling barracks for years, looked genuinely moved.

Darion continued. ”And the castle too. The main structure is still good, but there’s work to be done there as well. The cracks in the walls, the drafty windows, the sagging floors, they all need to be fixed. I haven’t forgotten about your living conditions. It’s part of the plan now.”

The murmurs of approval spread through the ranks. The knights nodded to each other, their faces brightening. They had seen the progress on the farmlands. They had seen the livestock. And now they were seeing that their Baron cared about them, about where they lived and about the conditions they endured.

Darion looked at them, his eyes scanning their faces.

”The rebuilding is the next phase. The farmlands are done. The livestock is here. Now we focus on the people.”

The knights erupted in cheers again, their voices even louder this time. They had heard the promise, and they believed it.

Darion smiled. ”Enjoy the rest of the day,” he said. ”There will be a feast tonight.”

The knights cheered again, their voices rising to the sky. They had earned this moment, and they were going to enjoy it.

---

Darion stood at the edge of the field, watching the knights disperse. They were talking among themselves, their voices low. They were happy.

Seren approached him, her face thoughtful.

”That was a good speech,” she said. ”They needed to hear that.”

Darion nodded.

Garren approached from the other side, his face calm. ”The feast will be ready by this evening,” he said. ”Maret and Aldra are already preparing.”

Darion smiled. ”Good.”

——

Night:

The castle courtyard was alive with activity. Torches flickered along the walls, their flames casting warm orange light across the gathering crowd.

Tables had been set up in neat rows, their surfaces covered with food, roasted meat from the stores, fresh bread still warm from the oven, wheels of cheese, and pitchers of ale and water.

The smell of cooking food filled the air, mixing with the sounds of laughter and conversation.

Maret and Aldra moved between the tables their hands carrying platters of food. They had been working all day, preparing for the feast, and their efforts were paying off.

The food was plentiful, the ale was flowing, and the mood was light and celebratory.

The knights had gathered first, their faces with glee.

They had been talking among themselves, their voices low, their laughter carrying across the courtyard.

They were happy, and it showed.

The archers had joined them, their bows set aside, their faces relaxed. Seren sat with them, her voice animated as she told stories about the hunt, about the Yuimons and the Horned Olfs and the chase through the desert.

The servants moved among the crowd, their steps quick, their hands full. They had been working hard, and they were enjoying the celebration as much as anyone.

Even the stable workers had joined.

The mood was light and celebratory. People laughed and talked, sharing stories of things that had happened, of battles won and challenges overcome. The past months had been hard, but they had survived, and they were celebrating that survival.

Darion and Garren sat together at a table near the edge of the courtyard, away from the main crowd. The noise of the feast was a distant hum, the laughter and chatter fading into the background. They had plates of food in front of them, but they weren’t eating. They were talking.

”The castle repairs,” Darion began. ”We need to start thinking about them.”

Garren nodded. ”The main structure is still good. But there’s a lot of work to do. The walls in some rooms are cracked. The ceilings have water stains and the floors are uneven.”

Darion nodded. ”The beds are the first thing at this point. I haven’t been sleeping well on that lumpy mattress, and I’m sure it’s not comfortable for Seren or you either.”

Garren agreed. ”We’ll need carpenters for the beds and furniture. And a mason for the stonework... walls, ceilings, fireplaces and structural repairs.”

They had discussed this before, the need for a master mason to handle the castle’s structural issues.

There were masons in the region, but the good ones were often employed by larger territories. They might need to travel to find one.

Darion made a decision. ”You’ll leave the next morning with six well-armed knights to find a master mason and bring him back to Percvale.”

Garren nodded. ”I’ll prepare the men.”

Darion looked across the courtyard, his eyes scanning the crowd. The feast was still going strong, the laughter and chatter rising to the sky.

He saw Seren sitting with the archers, her face bright with laughter. He saw the knights, their faces flushed with ale and good food. He saw the servants, their steps quick, their hands full.

He watched for a moment, feeling a quiet pride settle over him. They had come a long way. The barony was growing, the people were happy, and the future was bright.

Seren caught his eye and waved. He waved back, a small smile on his face.

Darion and Garren ate little, just enough to be polite, staying away from the main crowd and having a serious rebuilding discussion.

It was late when they finally retired to their rooms. The courtyard had emptied, the torches flickering low, the silence settling over the castle like a blanket.

Darion lay on his lumpy mattress and slept.

Morning came, the sun was just beginning to rise over the horizon, casting long golden rays across the courtyard.

Garren and six knights stood beside their horses, their armor polished, their packs filled with supplies for the journey. They were well-armed and well-supplied, ready for whatever they might encounter on the road. The horses shifted restlessly, their breath misting in the cold air.

Darion stood at the edge of the courtyard, his arms crossed, his face calm. He had been up since before dawn, watching the preparations, making sure everything was in order.

He walked over to Garren, his steps steady. ”Remember,” he said, ”look for a master mason who can handle the scale of the work. The castle needs structural repairs:walls, ceilings, fireplaces. Find someone who knows what they’re doing.”

Garren nodded. ”I know what to look for.”

Darion paused, his eyes meeting Garren’s. ”And be careful. The road is dangerous.”

Garren nodded again. ”I will.”

He mounted his horse. The other knights followed, their boots finding the stirrups, their hands gripping the reins.

Darion stepped back, watching them go. ”Good luck,” he said.

Garren nodded. ”We’ll be back soon.”

He urged his horse forward, and the six knights followed. They rode through the castle gate, their hooves echoing against the cobblestones. The sound faded as they disappeared into the morning mist.