Necromancer: Kingdom Building with My Legion of Undead Knights

Darion didn’t know how soon Ghan would be back, if he was being honest.

The mason had left with a firm handshake and a pouch of coins, promising to return within the week with his crew and materials.

But promises were easy to make and just as easy to break.

Darion had learned that lesson many times over in this world. People said what they needed to say to get what they wanted, and sometimes they followed through, and sometimes they didn’t.

He thought about the timing. Garren had gone very early in the morning to find Ghan, leaving before the sun had even thought about rising.

He had returned in the evening with the mason. That meant wherever Garren had found him wasn’t too far from Percvale. The journey had taken most of a day, but it was manageable, doable within a single day’s travel.

That was actually good. A mason from far away wouldn’t have been ideal.

The distance would have made everything more complicated, more expensive and more risky.

The travel costs alone would have added a significant amount to the overall price, and that would have meant more gold leaving Darion’s treasury.

On top of that, a mason from far away would have been less invested in the project, less connected to the region, less likely to care about the quality of the work.

He would have done the job and left, never to be seen again. If something went wrong, if a wall cracked or a roof leaked, there would be no one to hold accountable.

A mason from nearby was different. He had a reputation to maintain. He lived in the region, worked in the region, and his future business depended on the quality of his work.

If he did a good job, word would spread, and more work would come his way. If he did a bad job, word would spread just as fast, and his reputation would suffer. There was accountability built into the proximity.

And beyond that, a nearby mason was more accessible. If there were issues, if something needed to be adjusted or fixed, he could be called back without much trouble.

There was no long journey, no weeks of waiting, no endless delays. It was simply easier and more sensible.

So yes, taking someone good and nearby was a solid choice.

Garren had done well. He had found a skilled mason who was close enough to make the logistics work and experienced enough to do the job right.

Darion thought about the payment he had made. Nine hundred gold coins. Half of the total. It was a significant amount, enough to make anyone think twice.

He had handed it over without hesitation, without bargaining, without even a moment’s pause. But now, in the quiet of the evening, the thought began to creep in.

What if Ghan ditched him?

What if he took the coins and never came back? It had happened before, in this world and in his previous one.

People took money and disappeared, leaving nothing behind but empty promises and broken trust.

Ghan seemed like a good man, legitimate and honest, but appearances could be deceiving. Darion had learned that lesson.

What if Ghan looked at Percvale and saw a barony that was still struggling, still recovering, still vulnerable?

What if he decided that the risk wasn’t worth it, that the job was too much, that the payment wasn’t enough?

What if he thought about the distance, the effort, the uncertainty, and simply decided to walk away?

Darion pushed the thoughts aside. Ghan had signed a paper agreement, sealed it with the crest of Percvale. That meant something.

In this world, a signed agreement with a noble’s seal was binding.

It was a legal document, enforceable by law. If Ghan broke the agreement, he would face consequences.

His reputation would be ruined, his business would suffer, and his name would be known across the region as someone who couldn’t be trusted.

Darion had done everything right. He had found a skilled mason, negotiated a fair price, signed a binding agreement, and made a substantial payment. He had followed the proper steps. Now he had to trust that the process would work.

Hopefully nothing would happen, and things would just go as planned. After a few days, or maybe even tomorrow, Ghan would return with his crew and materials, and the construction would begin.

Darion was super excited about that.

Almost two months he had been here, sleeping under this desolate looking building that looked like a haunted place for beggars.

The castle was old and worn, its walls cracked, its roofs leaking, its floors uneven. It wasn’t that bad, but it actually was, if you looked at it closely.

Even the smallest of baronies had castles that looked decent to the eye. They might not be grand or impressive, but they were at least functional, presentable and respectable.

Percvale’s castle was none of those things. It was a crumbling reminder of past neglect, a symbol of everything that had gone wrong over the years.

The previous Barons had done nothing to maintain it, had let it decay and fall apart. They had been too busy fighting, too busy squabbling, too busy squandering loans, too busy just trying to survive to worry about the condition of the building they lived in.

But Darion was different. He was building something new and lasting.

When the renovations were finished, the castle would be transformed.

The walls would be repaired, the leaks would be fixed, and the floors would be leveled. The rooms would be clean and comfortable, the ceilings would be high and dry, and the atmosphere would be welcoming.

Then Darion would move on to the smaller things.

The beds would be replaced with proper ones, with soft mattresses and warm blankets.

The curtains would be hung, the tables and chairs would be restored, and everything would be brought up to a standard that was worthy of a noble’s residence.

He would make sure that when he invited noble friends, they would be impressed rather than disappointed or disgusted.

He thought about how far he had come. He had been rejected, disowned, and sent to this place to die.

The Emperor of Valvanos had cast him aside, stripped him of his titles and his heritage, and condemned him to a life of obscurity and failure. Percvale was supposed to be his end, a forgotten barony where failed nobles went to rot.

But Darion had turned it around. He had awakened his Necromancer ability here, and had discovered powers he never knew he possessed.

And that was what was keeping him alive today. He thought about it often, the way his life had hinged on that single moment of awakening.

Without his Necromancer ability, he would have been just another failed noble, sent to a dying barony to rot.

He would have arrived in Percvale with nothing but a title and a handful of hopeless knights, and he would have died here, forgotten and alone.

He remembered that first day, the hunt that had changed everything.

He had gone into the forest alone, desperate to prove to his knights that hunting was possible, that Percvale wasn’t finished yet.

They had been too weak to follow him, too broken to believe in anything. He had walked into those trees with nothing but a sword and his undead knights.

He had only survived because of his undead knights.

They had scouted ahead, warning him of dangers he couldn’t see. They had fought beside him, their weapons raised, their bodies unyielding.

And when he had faced the Bogart, the creature that had terrified his knights for years, he had stood his ground and fought. He had won, not because he was stronger or faster, but because he had his undeads at his side.

His Necromancer ability had been with him in every battle, every victory, every moment of survival. It had helped him win the fight against Aldric, the king who had threatened to destroy Percvale.

Without his undeads, that war would have been lost. The invaders would have marched through Percvale, burning and killing, and there would have been nothing left to save.

And it had helped him acquire the coins from Valdenmoor.

”Steal” was the right word, but Darion would never call it that. He had taken what he needed to rebuild.

That gold had paid for everything. It had funded the farmland, the livestock, the stable workers. It had made the renovations possible. Without it, he would still be sleeping under a leaking roof, his knights still starving, his barony still dying.

So yes, his Necromancer ability was everything.

He had used it to build an army, to protect his people, to create something new from the ashes of the old. He was rebuilding Percvale so well, so completely, that it was almost impossible to believe.

And one day, he would cross paths with his former family again.

He would stand before them as the Baron of a thriving territory, a man who had succeeded against all odds.

He would look them in the eye and show them what they had thrown away. He would prove that their rejection had been their loss, not his.