Hungry Necromancer

It's been an amusing time.

In fact, it's been so good that I am essentially the Marquess myself. I've wound her my finger so tightly that if I told her the only way to save her skin and win this war was to hand over her ride to oversee the battle herself…she would. 

She would because she can't bear the thought of losing the faith of her family and falling to the levels of disgrace that I have. But she doesn't see that she's lost everything to me already, a man she once held prisoner.

As it goes I've yet to truly punish her for the act but that time will come, after we win. She sits with a pleasant smile graced on her lips, cushioned by silk and silvery pillows stuffed with the softest feathers.

It's all over her face, the pride of premature success. Her hands calmly keep busy knitting a sweater, the swats of chill, breezy air that have come from the Aste's direction tell of a coming winter. 

But I know better, both about the war and the weather. Our overwhelming numbers and skill, especially with the skill of Mages, have secured our pace on the offensive, according to the first reports. 

The bastard Necromage has basically fed his people up to me, the beast that will devour them whole, but either he's been killed off by one of his other enemies or he's anticipated a loss and fled the scene of battle.

There isn't any sign of him, or his Elven Mage either. This is what disturbs me now. Not having all my enemies accounted for when the massacre begins strips the satisfaction of having a massacre in the first place.

He could be out there, plotting something, observing me and gathering more of his…undead forces. I'm brave enough to face him but I'm not foolish enough to let him have any more time to grow stronger. 

If the past has anything to say about Mage's like him it's that they are capable of upending the world, of bringing down gods. Which brings me to the weather.

They arrived not too long after I sent for the mercenary forces that fight his peasant army now. They're tall and pale skinned, so pale in fact that shaking their hands leaves an imprint on them, their hands are cold enough to sting after a few seconds holding it. And when they arrived they arrived with a drastic change in the weather.

Snow.

Although winter isn't due for another six months I'm not bothered the least bit about it. Rather what disturbs me is what they said. At first, I thought it was for the same mission to preach their Goddess to the Marquess as they did to me when I was Mayor of Aste. I never let them in, embracing a Goddess other than Anera? Even I'm not stupid enough to try it.

But then they said the Necromage, Lord Ash, was an ally of theirs and that he readies himself to go against me, but had come to help me defeat him. 

Clerics carrying out betrayals is not something I often see or hear of, but here it was, an ally of the vagrant that stole Aste away from me. They went on to tell me about his blatant blasphemy against their Goddess and cited several reasons why he would betray their will.

The most shocking to hear is that he's christened himself a Deity and begun spreading his non-existent religion throughout Aste, proof of the madness of foul dark magic. Necromancy. 

Of course practicing such would run you mad, but a mad Necromancer is not what anyone on the planet wants. Least of all one that has it in his mind to become a Deity.

'If he's left to run free he'd stagnate their Goddess' growth on the continent and in time, swallow everyone up in an army of undead.'

They reiterated that I am not their only choice and confessed that it's unlikely he'd let himself get killed by anyone at either of our disposal at the moment. So they offered me a deal, aid against him provided that when I win, I spread their faith and wide as possible.

'They want to turn me into their weapon in this…crusade.'

A difficult deal to make considering that when I win this war, I'd be a noble lord in a Kingdom controlled by an opposing Goddess, or at least, according to them only the Synagogue.

I'd be a target of so much aggression, serving and usurping the Duke would not be easy. I could be punished instead of rewarded actually, stripped of my wealth, kicked out of the family and my children…disinherited. 

What's at stake is high, but the clerics too have thought of that. They promise that when the King or the Synagogue hear about a victory against the Necromage's forces, they'd be too embarrassed to admit they've been too busy, distracted by other pointless matters.

The Synagogue especially would have to answer in court why the problem of a Necromage hasn't been rooted out, why there even is a problem of a Necromage. The clerics spoke well, convincingly even that I'm beginning to trust their word that when it all comes out they will be there to place pressure on every point.

Spread sympathetic news of my situation, make me and Frozia out to be glorious in fending off the Necromage when prayers and pleas for help to Anera and the King were ignored.

They even posited a question that's begun to ring in my ears, "Should I fall over and die when my God and King won't save me? Should I lay flat and let the enemy of the glorious Kingdom waltz in? An enemy that has wrecked the world once before?"

"Huh?" The Marquess mutters, shifting in her pillows and knitting a new coat.

We're camped in the fields, sitting in the midst of the mercenary forces we hired along with around a hundred of the March's own levies and her elite guard, soon becoming mine.

Not too far away from here are the gates of Autue, where the battle rages, "Nothing, I'm just thinking about the war."

Her brows furrow at this, her concentration deepening, "How? Why I mean. You've heard the report, we got them good. Those Mages were a good decision, although last minute."

The three Mages that approached asking to be hired had come to our doorstep after getting word that I'd hired mercenaries. It bore no demerit to hire them as well and spare ourselves the cost of our elite. Although the trio could serve as fief holders at their B-rank.

"That's all well and good but there aren't any reports of him yet, he's the one whose death will end all of this. If he dies at our hands then…I've explained this before."

"Don't growl at me, all I'm saying is that if he isn't there and the army he's gathered is being defeated then when he does show up he has nothing but dead bodies."

"Nothing but dead bodies? He's a Necromnage! God do you even hear-"

"Ow! Ugh, look, don't worry about it. Didn't you say we turned one of his allies? Those snow people?"

"Yes, they've blessed the mercenaries' weapons and converted the few that were interested…whatever good that'll do."

"Great, that means we have two deities on our side."

"No, Anera hasn't-"

"She is with us in all." She says sternly, shutting me up.

I grunt and get off my butt, tired of watching her knit, "However you want to spin it, but his absence makes me uneasy. If he escapes then all we have to show for it are a bunch of dead peasants, a massacre of Mayors and-"

"Lord!" A soldier bursts through our tents curtains, nearly spilling over the table of leftovers. He's stained with fresh blood and has his plated armour scorched and dented. 

"You…you're from the battlefield." Dread fills me and I know his report will not be a good one, "What has happened!"

He spills to the ground, gasping for air and likely on the verge of death.

"Answer him!" the Marquess screams, stood up from her cushions and gripping her dress dearly.

The man gasps and swallows but speaks, "He…he's here and he's brought monsters."

"Monsters?"

"Demon like beasts, two black demons of the night, they're killing everything they touch. Just like him. And the fire, a snake…no, a dragon! A werebear too." The man fully collapses at my feet, too tired to hold himself up any longer, "And he's turned the dead against us…the more we kill, the more enemies we have."

"No…no…This can't be happening!" The Marquess screams, tearing her dress and tussling her hair.

"Did you say…dragon?" I huff, "He's got…a dragon?"

The man nods, still panting.

"And he's raised…an army of dead."

"I have seen both my friends and men I've killed today come after me in mad sprints, broken and…wrong in their limbs. They have claws…all of them and they're all hungry for our lives…is this…a Necromage Lord?"

Unable to stand any longer I drop back into my seat and sigh, "Yes…it is."