Hungry Necromancer - Chapter 253

It’s nice hearing from Kaylin again, quite nice really, I also had no idea my comm ring could do that. Project their image onto a surface, letting me see them like a projector of sorts. Interesting magic.

As much as I’m enthused at the thought of hearing from Kaylin, a previous companion, she only calls when there’s a problem. As it is I’m glad it wasn’t terrible news from the forming frontlines.

‘Huh, I wonder how Aren is doing.’

Humming at the reminiscent thoughts of bribing the man to let me into Aste I turn back to the mess of religion that the city is slowly becoming. For a moment I wonder whether I should stop, I’ve pushed the people of the land quite far as is. Forced them to accept their Mayor is usurped, massacred their horde of nobility and imprisoned the few that remain, throned a new Mayor, an elf for that matter.

And now I’m giving them a new religion. It may be a lot to chew all at once.

Shrugging the thought off I remind myself of the facts, and the facts are I don’t have time to wait or be patient. I can’t have these people worshiping the wrong Deities, especially when I’m involved. I’d have pushed for the worship of Frozia but she’s already got a strong grip on the land.

Her priests are migrating between Frozia and Aste, bringing their tomes and their ways to set up temples to the frozen Goddess. While the God of Undead and Unrighteous souls may still be a made up Deity, it’s one that has to siphon worship and faith away from the Goddess of Winter before she becomes all too powerful.

‘I could have given the prayers to Lotar.’

Yes, I could. I have once in fact, Demme and their people worship the Wolf alongside myself. But Lotar, patron or not, is a rival to power. I may indeed be getting ahead of myself on this whole Deity thing, but I know if I keep it up the rewards I’ll reap will be worth it. This is one of the only methods to push Frozia away, to stand up to her.

Anything less than becoming a God myself is a delusion.

Though I wonder if I’m on the right track, Lotar has observed enough to comment on my activities by now, to laugh at my foolishness or growl at my guts. He’s done neither. To be fair I suppose he’s quite tied up battling Phien and keeping his minions about me in check.

Phien. Another Deity that wouldn’t mind seeing me dead. It won’t be long though, not long before I can combat the Beta warriors, a bit further, a bit more testing and more Necromancy, more [Spirit Manipulation] and I’ll be safe.

Staring up into the clustered skies I sigh and pull myself up to my feet and walk towards the power I need. There’s a large bonfire alight at the centre of the spiralling gathering of Spirits. There are benches on the sides, more like long, uncut logs of wood but they work well as chairs for Spirits too fussed to fly about in the air.

Shifting through to the centre I stare up, through the eye of the storm of over a hundred flying Spirits, all wondering how and why they’ve been resurrected. As their chatter starts to die out I resolve to clear the fundamental misunderstanding of their new lives.

“None of you are alive!” I yell, my hands gloved with the same enchanted gloves that boost the sound of my voice, “None of you exist physically without me. At a whim, at a thought I can extinguish all of you from physical existence because you are here by my power!”

Looking at them, their faces hold troubled looks, some frightful, especially the children. But fear can’t be beyond death, this much they should handle, this much they can receive.

“My name is Asher! But you can call me Lord Ash, I am a Necromancer and I have summoned all hundred and forty-seven of you for a single question, a single request to the dead of the city I rule!”

Even more murmurs, but that’s alright, this is a choice after all.

Pointing to the pile of enchanted weapons that circle around the bonfire I yell, “I need warriors! No, not warriors, I need an army of undying men, women and yes, even children. You all have lived in the fugue state of unrest for as long as three centuries and as short as a single month, I have released you all from the paralysis the Goddess Anera punished you with and now all I ask is that you aid me in my wars.”

“Wars?” A woman calls, set in a long household dress she stands, “What do you mean wars? You want us to fight and die for you?”

I turn to her and nod, “Fight? Yes, die? Well you can try my friend, but you will find that there is no dying twice.”

The final revelation brings even more uproar, deafening me for a moment until I raise out an open palm in the air and clasp it shut. Immediately all their mouths snap shut and silence reigns.

Still holding their lips shut, I declare, “As you can see, I am a man of my word, I can indeed control everyone of you here, force you to do whatever I wish. But I don’t want to do that. For the sake of the Kingdom, the safe, prospering new Kingdom where everyone is included I ask you to join me. Already I have twenty of you ready to stand by me, tonight is the last moment to decide, to pick a weapon and bow.”

Releasing their lips I straighten my clothes and spread out my hands, awaiting the first, hopefully of many.

“A-and! And you promise to keep us physical!?” A man screams over the endless chattering and discussion. His question is one many have been whispering to themselves so silence falls.

Looking around, at their faces then back at him hovering in the air. A blacksmith or something by the tough brown apron over him, “No, I cannot keep you all physical at all moments of the day, and you do not have to follow wherever I go, I’ve freed you from Anera and now you can explore the world eternally.

“What I do promise is that the most loyal Spirits will be fully resurrected the moment I gain the power to do so. And to be loyal, do not struggle when I call on you, do not fight back against my pull, don’t make me put in more effort to raise your arms than needed.”

Again they descend into murmuring and chattering, but through all the chaos of their confused chittering the blacksmith man descends, he passes right by me and picks up a large warhammer from the pile.

Heaving it he drifts an inch above the ground until he’s before me, then he kneels, head bowed and warhammer raised, “My weapon is yours to call on whenever, Lord Ash.”

A satisfied grin stretches across my lips at this, and I gaze about the Summoned Spirits, their mouths ajar and their faces strewn with hesitation and doubt but some are inspired.

Another set of men fall out of the sky, heading to the pile of weapons and I glance down at the warhammer wielding blacksmith, “What is your name?”

His head is bowed still he answers, “Eldwin, milord.”

“Well then, Eldwin, you’re the first of many.”