Necromancer: Kingdom Building with My Legion of Undead Knights

Darion decided to take the sword.

He would use it as his own, that was if it proved to be good. But it seemed solid and really long, so it should be.

The blade was well-balanced, its edge still sharp despite years of neglect. The hilt was wrapped in dark leather that had dried with age but still felt comfortable in his grip. He swung it once, testing the weight. It felt right.

He took it with him.

And it wasn’t like he fought that much. He didn’t fight, even. He would hold it, and when things got tough, he would give it to Ghet Ulg or Edric Vorne to do the job for him.

That was how things worked now. His undead knights were his weapons. He didn’t need to swing a sword when he had an army that could swing them for him.

Still, having a good sword at his side felt right. It was a symbol, a reminder of the power he had discovered in the hidden room. And it was a connection to Percvale’s past, to the people who had lived here before him.

He strapped the sword to his belt and walked out of the room.

The next day, work resumed on the castle. The workers were already moving, their tools clanging against the stone, their voices carrying through the halls.

Dust drifted through the air, thick and grey, coating everything in a fine layer of grime. The smell of fresh timber and stone dust filled the castle, mingling with the familiar scent of age and decay.

Darion ate breakfast quickly, his mind already turning to the book he had found. The journal. He had been waiting for the right moment to read it, to uncover its secrets. And now, with the morning light streaming through the great hall windows, he felt ready.

He took the book to his room, sat down in the only chair, and opened it.

He expected something shocking. Information that would make him learn about Percvale’s past. Secrets that had been buried for decades, waiting to be uncovered.

He had built up the mystery in his mind, imagining hidden truths and ancient conspiracies.

But what he saw were sketches. A hand gripping a sword. A figure moving through the motions of a basic swing. Footwork diagrams, showing how to position your feet for maximum balance and power.

Page after page of sword training instructions.

Darion almost smiled at his tomfoolery. He had expected something interesting. Some history.

Some magical spell book! Y’know, that was why he had allowed the mystery to linger and all that.

He had imagined finding something that would change everything, that would give him an edge, that would reveal some long-forgotten truth about Percvale.

Instead, he had found a training manual.

He flipped through the pages, scanning the sketches, the diagrams and the careful instructions.

The handwriting was neat, precise, the work of someone who had put a lot of effort into teaching the art of sword fighting. It was detailed, thorough, and completely useless to him.

This wouldn’t be useful for him.

For some reason, Darion did not see the urge to actually train. To become a good fighter. What was the point of having good fighting skills when you had powerful undeads to do that for you?

Actual fighting now just seemed like unnecessary stress.

He closed the book and set it aside. He would keep it, maybe. For some reason. A reminder of the hidden room, of the secrets that Percvale still held. But he wouldn’t train. He didn’t need to.

He stood up, stretched, and walked back to the construction site.

---

The work on the castle walls had been progressing steadily when the collapse happened.

Darion heard the noise before he saw it. He heard a low rumble that grew into a deafening crash, followed by shouts and the sound of falling stone. He ran toward the source of the sound, his heart pounding, his mind racing.

When he arrived, he found a section of the wall had collapsed. Stones lay scattered across the ground, some of them cracked and broken, others still intact but covered in dust and debris. Workers stood around the site, their faces pale, their tools hanging uselessly at their sides. Ghan was already there, his expression grim, his eyes scanning the damage.

”What happened?” Darion asked, his voice sharp.

Ghan turned to face him. ”The damage was worse than we expected. The mortar had rotted away completely, and the stones were barely holding together. We must have weakened it when we removed the loose stones. It was only a matter of time.”

Darion looked at the collapsed section, his mind already calculating the implications. The wall needed to be rebuilt, not just patched. New stones, new mortar, new labor?. It would take time. It would take extra money too.

”We need to build a new wall,” Ghan continued. ”Not just patch this section. The damage runs deeper than I initially thought. If we only patch it, it will collapse again, and the next time it might take part of the roof with it.”

Darion felt the weight of the decision pressing down on him. He had already invested so much in the renovation. The roofs, the walls, the floors. And now this. Another expense... another delay.

”Spend more gold,” he said. ”Or scale back the renovation?”

Ghan didn’t answer immediately. He looked at the collapsed wall, then back at Darion. ”A proper renovation will cost more. But it will last. If you only patch it, you’ll be fixing it again in a few years.”

Darion nodded slowly. He couldn’t just leave that place like that. It wasn’t an option. He had to do it right.

”Invest more,” he said. ”Build it properly. I’ll add more gold.”

Ghan nodded. ”I’ll send my men to bring the materials. We’ll need new stones, fresh mortar, and extra hands to speed up the work. It’ll take a few days.”

They settled on about 150 Gold extra.

Considering the rebuilding that would have to take place on the wall, it was pretty generous in a way.

Darion looked at the collapsed wall, at the workers already beginning to clear the debris, at the evidence of progress that had been set back by something beyond his control.

It was kind of frustrating.