Defiant Necromancer (Book 2 stubbed)

“Bury the stone tablets the cat tribe made for me, Edgard,” Tybalt sent as he walked off with the watchmen. “All around where we killed the enemy. Then try to gather the dead bodies into as tight of a space as you can around where the tablets are.”

“Yes, master. Do I need to do anything to preserve them? Would you like them buried under a layer of sand?”

“I’ll be back out soon, one way or another. The corpses shouldn’t have time to bake in the sun too much. But try to keep body parts that belong to the same bodies close together. I’ll want to perform some repairs as needed on the corpses. The decapitated camels can still be usable if I reattach the heads.”

The tablets Edgard was to bury contained the runes for Mass Generate Undead, a skill that Tybalt had used while in his lich form but had yet to acquire through the system. It was bothersome to need runes to perform magic that ought to be part of his bread and butter skills, but at least he had a mummy who could freely move through the earth to place the tablets where they were needed.

Tybalt’s own losses were somewhere in the single digits, but there were hundreds of bandits for him to turn into loyal undead.

The necromancer gently brushed off the beastfolk - and the members of his own entourage - who wanted to accompany him, besides Kistana.

“The rest of you are in charge out here while I deal with the Mayor,” he said in a tone of quiet authority. Then he conveyed the same wish to Edgard and the other intelligent undead.

He and the catgirl followed the watchmen into the town, where the leader politely asked him to wait.

Tybalt noted the slight distrust from the watchmen; the gate closed behind him and Kistana.

They’re wise to be cautious, he thought with mild amusement. You have to beware of strangers bearing gifts, even if the gift is the salvation of your home.

“We’ll arrange your meeting,” said Miron politely.

Tybalt nodded, and the head watchman walked away, leaving Tybalt and Kistana with the other watchmen. The watchmen clutched their spears tightly as if worried that the necromancer and his companion might try something violent all of a sudden.

Unfortunately, there’s nothing you could do if Kistana and I decided to get squirrelly, Tybalt assessed. This town would have fallen to the bandits in a matter of a few hours without our intervention. Which means it’s hardly equipped to fight Kistana off, even if I told her to solo this place. He could see large holes and cracks in the wall where the catapults had already done serious damage.

After several minutes of standing in place, Miron returned with a few expensively clothed men.

“We’ll take you to see Lord Mayor now,” Miron said. “Um, just you, not the catgirl.”

“She goes where I go,” Tybalt replied tranquilly. “That’s non-negotiable.” He lowered his voice. “Please don’t make me humiliate or kill your guardsmen. I really don’t want to do that.”

The necromancer saw, in his peripheral vision, that Kistana had broken into a smile.

Miron swallowed and forced a smile of his own. “Of course. I wouldn’t want you or your lady to be uncomfortable. We’ll be happy to accommodate you.”

He and the others led Tybalt and Kistana down the town’s main street until they reached an opulent-looking building draped in silks and expensive carpeting.

I guess this is the place.

The necromancer and the catgirl followed the men inside, to a room full of cushions.

They spare no expense on comfort, but not enough money for a real defense. Interesting.

“Please wait here,” said one of the men in extravagant clothing.

Tybalt sat down without a word in the largest chair in the room. Even that was more cushioned than he was accustomed to.

Kistana hovered uneasily by his side while the others filed out of the room.

As soon as the two were alone, Tybalt pulled the catgirl down into the chair next to his. She was a little below him in elevation, but he leaned down and kissed her on the lips.

“Mm, I should stay focused on our surroundings, my - I mean, Tybalt. We may be attacked at any moment. These people clearly distrust us.”

“They would probably like to do us some harm if they could, but I think you can relax.”

The catgirl looked uncomfortable at those words but then appeared to make an effort to act naturally.

A serving woman dressed in gauzy veils that concealed little of her form entered, carrying a platter of fruits. Grapes, pears, dates.

Do those fruits grow here?

“For my lord’s - um, and my lady’s - enjoyment,” the woman said, bowing low to extend her offerings to Tybalt and Kistana. It was probably inadvertent that Tybalt could see every detail of her breasts as she leaned in. Probably.

Kistana reached for a pear, but the necromancer gently grabbed her hand before it could make contact.

“Thank you,” Tybalt said. “But I think it would be rude for us to eat without our host.”

“We wouldn’t poison our saviors,” said a male voice. A pear-shaped male figure wearing more expensive silks than any of the other men Tybalt had seen - to the point of looking gaudy - appeared in the doorway. “If that was what you were concerned about.”

“It wouldn’t likely kill me,” the necromancer lied. “But it would be very painful… for whoever made the attempt.”

“Which fruit do you favor?” asked the man, stepping closer.

Several armed men that Tybalt took to be bodyguards, along with the expensively dressed men from earlier and Miron from the town watch, moved into the room after him.

“Grapes,” Tybalt said.

The man Tybalt guessed was the town’s Mayor reached into the platter and carelessly grabbed a fistful of grapes. Then he began to eat them.

“Also a pear,” the necromancer said.

“You are very mistrustful,” the Mayor said. He dropped the remaining grapes in his hand back onto the plate, took a pear, and bit into it.

Tybalt nodded to Kistana, and she picked up a pear for herself. The necromancer himself made sure to take a few of the specific grapes the Mayor had dropped from his hand. He had clearly intended to eat all of those.

“I’m called Tybalt,” the necromancer said. “It’s nice to meet you, Lord Mayor.”

The Mayor nodded. “Likewise. We appreciate your timely assistance in fending off the bandits. It is unfortunate that we meet under rather disagreeable circumstances.” He glanced at Kistana with a dismissive air. “Does your concubine want anything besides the pear, by the way? We have some raw meat. I heard that beastfolk eat that sort of thing.”

“My bodyguard can speak for herself,” Tybalt replied, trying not to show his irritation.

“Right,” said the Mayor. He dropped into a chair a few feet in front of Tybalt and then looked at Kistana again, for longer this time.

“I like carrots,” said Kistana quietly. “Also fish. Not raw fish, though.”

“Of course.” He looked sideways at the serving girl. “Marina, could you go and fetch some smoked fish for our guests?” He turned back to Tybalt as the gauzily clad woman jiggled away. “Now, to business. I heard that you wanted us to, um, befriend your new Beastfolk Army? Who exactly is backing you? What is this a front for, really? Are the elves back in the Waste, or is this somehow an offshoot of the Empire? You don’t look like an elf, so- ”

“I am shortly to be crowned King of the beastfolk,” Tybalt replied quietly. “There is no power backing us… except that of a god. The God of Death, Mudo, who wishes to see the Kingdom’s current governing structure crumble.”

The temperature in the room dropped palpably.

“You can’t seriously expect us to go against Vika and Astara for an evil god and some pretender to a throne we’ve never heard of,” the Mayor said finally, in a firm and authoritative voice.

“It’s a shame you feel that way,” said Tybalt, trying manfully not to smile.

I hate to have to do this to you, Mayor whose name I don’t know and who keeps looking at my catgirl like she’s dirt. It really pains me. I hate unnecessary death. Oh, dear. Oh, well. Since this is the only path available to me…

“What did you expect?” asked the Mayor. He gave a quick look to his guards, and the men began subtly shifting their positions, moving toward Tybalt and Kistana’s side, adjusting their postures to be able to more quickly reach for their weapons.

I guess I expected intelligence. Sense. A human survival instinct. Alas… they were all tragically lacking.

“You’re not a warrior class, are you?” Tybalt asked calmly as he bit into a grape. The little squirt of juice in his mouth was quite pleasant. It was nice of the Mayor to show such hospitality to someone who was telling him to kneel. “Mm, that’s good.”

“Well, we try to be accommodating to our guests,” the fat man said sardonically. “As for whether I have a class and what it is, I don’t know why that’s relevant to- ”

Bonebreaker. Fleshcraft.

Tybalt lunged, and his hand ripped through the air quicker than most of those around could see. Then the Mayor’s head rested in the necromancer’s palm. The headless corpse tumbled out of his seat and onto the ground, spurting blood from the stump neck.

He probably had a class, but not a combat one, the necromancer thought. His neck was at least slightly tougher than the last guy I did that too. Or maybe he just built up neck muscles from having to hold up that fat head…

The necromancer lifted his feet, pulled a chair over the dead body, and then settled his boots onto the seat. He didn’t want to keep ruining his clothing every time he had some minor skirmish. Beside him, Kistana tucked her legs underneath her as well and continued eating her pear.

“So, who was second in command here?” Tybalt asked.

Another man, who thankfully didn’t look like he was related to the dead Mayor, raised his hand meekly.

“Nice to meet you, Lord Mayor,” the necromancer said, smiling. “Do you agree that you and your town now fall under the authority of the newly forged Beast Kingdom?”

“Of course, Your Majesty, and we’ll support you in any way we can.”

Good answer. I see not everyone here is missing their survival instinct.

“I hope you’ll live a very long time,” Tybalt said, smiling. He saw the shape of the serving girl in the doorway, carrying another platter. “Oh, is that the fish? I think we’ll stay here for dinner.”

The town of Humun opened its gates and greeted the Grand Beastfolk Army as liberators after that.