The Necromancer's Servant

The general went out to take a break.

The day after being rejected by Asa, he temporarily entrusted the affairs of the troops to Asa, stating that he wanted to take a breather. Asa had initially worried that he might lose control and do something reckless, but he finally felt relieved. Yet, there was still an underlying sense that something was off.

Because after that night, the expression on the general's face appeared remarkably calm, completely devoid of the passionate emotions from the previous day. Even his usual aura of authority and intimidation seemed to have vanished, replaced instead by the placid demeanor one would expect from an elderly man.

The stark contrast in emotions displayed by an elderly individual was unsettling. Asa had not feared the general's furious killing intent, but now, seeing that peaceful and tranquil face, he felt a chill run down his spine.

When a person loses their temper and control, it is not that significant; emotional outbursts only drown out reason, which is not difficult to handle. The real fear arises when all that emotional power is channeled inward, when all impulses return to calm, merging into reason and character.

However, by all accounts, the situation had indeed stabilized. Asa had already informed every commander in the troops about the imperial decree. It was impossible for the general to forcibly mobilize the troops now. Perhaps that calmness indicated a resignation to reality.

He hoped so. Asa waited anxiously in Bracada.

Three days later, the general finally returned, bringing with him more than twenty individuals. They looked like ordinary villagers, ranging from an elderly man nearing his seventies to strong young adults. After settling them in the town hall, the general summoned the mid-level commanders of the troops and quietly instructed them on some matters. Many of these commanders had been under the general's command for decades, and these minor tasks were still within their purview.

Then the general arranged a lavish banquet to honor all the priests in the troops, including the priest commander. This banquet not only met the church's strict dietary requirements for the priests but was also bountiful. The general stated that he wanted to thank the priests for their long-standing spiritual guidance for the soldiers and encouraged everyone to enjoy the meal.

According to tradition, it was quite troublesome for priests to eat; they had to pray first, then eat slowly, and only after finishing did they pray again before leaving the table. Although not everyone strictly followed these cumbersome rituals, in this large gathering of hundreds with the priest commander present, it was naturally not something that could be taken lightly. So, the hundreds of priests prayed together, as if participating in a grand ritual, before they began their meal.

"What are you up to?" The priest commander, the head of the priests, did not pray. He sat in the top position, impatiently asking the general sitting next to him.

The general smiled calmly, like a well-mannered host: "I simply wanted to invite everyone to enjoy a good meal. Don't worry; I wouldn't dare tamper with the priests' food."

Asa sighed, a bit helplessly saying, "Consider this just a favor for me. Please don't do anything else. Can you just quietly wait here for Duke Murak to arrive?"

The general said nothing, merely smiling quietly. Asa felt a chill down his back. That face, which had previously been a blend of various intense emotions, suddenly seemed eerie in its gentleness.

"Why isn't the priest commander eating?" The general smiled faintly, gesturing towards the delicious food on the table.

Asa shook his head, sighed, and pulled over a plate of food, stuffing it into his mouth while mumbling, "Of course I'm going to eat. Why shouldn't I? I have nothing against food."

The food was delightful. The priests below chewed gracefully and elegantly, while occasionally glancing at their commander, who was eating ravenously like a bandit, though they dared not imitate him.

Before long, Asa's plate was empty. He seemed quite satisfied as he let out a contented burp, stood up, and walked outside.

The general asked, "Where are you going, priest commander?"

"I ate too much, need to take a dump." This noble clergyman left without looking back.

The streets of Bracada were eerily quiet; even though it was midday, there were no soldiers moving about, creating a strangely desolate atmosphere. Asa wandered around, wanting to see what the general was really up to.

Passing by an inn, Asa heard voices coming from inside. He quietly peered in through the door.

Only the unique hall of the Bracada Inn could accommodate two to three hundred soldiers sitting together. These soldiers were all quite young, in their teens and twenties, with no older veterans in sight, presumably specially dispatched from the troops. They were gathered around an old man, listening intently to his words.

This old man was one of the villagers the general had brought back, with a simple face marked by deep lines, a hunched back, and hands hanging almost to his knees—typical of a lifelong farmer worn down by toil. Now, he was recounting to the soldiers: "... I saw a human skin hanging from a tree, without a face, but I recognized whose it was. I recognized the scar on the leg; I had personally bandaged that wound. At that moment, those ogres had my sister pinned on a stone altar. An ogre dressed like a priest danced, then used a stone knife to cut open my sister's belly. She kept crying out, trying to move, but several ogres were holding her down. I watched as her blood flowed across the stone altar; she was still crying and struggling... That priest tore her heart out, holding it in his hand while continuing to dance, then placed it on their altar. That was my sister…" Tears streamed down the old man's face, and his body trembled; the power of that memory remained undiminished by the passing years.

The young soldiers began to stir, their blood boiling, igniting anger and indignation in their hearts, creating sparks of shared rage. If an orc had appeared before them at that moment, they would have torn it to pieces.

"Fortunately, the villagers hired a group of mercenaries during the chaos, allowing me to escape. But the scene I witnessed that day is something I can never forget... Every year, someone from our village is captured and eaten by those beasts, until the general led his troops here and killed all those damned beasts, allowing us to live in peace. We are truly grateful to the general... General Sanders is a great benefactor to our common people, the greatest general of the Empire." The old man continued to tremble as he spoke.

The spirits of the two to three hundred young listeners resonated completely with this old man. Young hearts are especially easily stirred, and these events are enough to move anyone with a shred of humanity.

"But now I hear that the general has been dismissed. Although I don't understand state affairs, I only know that the general is a benefactor to our common people, just like you warriors, both fighting for us, good people. But those officials and nobles only use our hard-earned money to indulge themselves. Why should they have the power to dismiss a good man like General Sanders?" The old farmer expressed his simple feelings with straightforward logic. "I also heard that those remaining orcs have built a city in the wasteland, and have colluded with the nobles to get the Empire to sign a peace treaty, demanding to be recognized as independent. Is there any justice in this? Do our deceased loved ones simply count for nothing? Since I heard this news, I haven't slept well for a single night. I only hate myself for being too old to wield a sword. Otherwise, even if I had to do it alone, I would charge into that orc city. Even if I died and got eaten by those beasts, I would at least stab one of them with my sword, using my flesh to poison them…" The old man's voice and body trembled even more violently with emotion. This was not a pre-prepared speech; no rehearsed words could enable such a simple person to express such powerful sentiments. It was an outpouring of genuine emotion, shaking the hearts of every listener. These young soldiers, innocent and straightforward, could fully grasp the power of these feelings, their faces overshadowed by passionate rage.

Asa stood by the door, feeling a layer of goosebumps; he could roughly guess what the general was planning.

"Alright, time's up, everyone. Let's go; the general has something to say to us." A captain among the soldiers led them to stand up and walk outside, and Asa quickly stepped aside.

Groups of soldiers began to emerge from the various inns, all young, and they were likely going in batches to hear the speeches from the individuals the general had brought back. No other commanders or leaders emerged to interfere; the general's prestige among his subordinates could not be dismissed by mere official documents.

The soldiers ignored Asa as they followed those who had presumably received prior instructions from the general, heading towards the outskirts of the city.

Asa followed them to a small hill outside the city, where the general had already been standing for some time. The priests were probably still slowly eating inside, enjoying the delicious food, and the general certainly had a way to keep them at ease.

Waiting for all the soldiers to gather, the general began to shout at these righteous and indignant young men with a powerful voice: "Men of Einfast, great warriors of the Empire! You all know that I am no longer the commander of the army. Because of the nobles' conspiracies and the dirty political deals, this great war, originally meant to avenge our people, is about to be aborted. I tell you, I could return and enjoy a comfortable retirement with the salary the court gives me, for I am no longer a general. But I will not do that. Absolutely not!" The general roared. "Because I am still a warrior," he seemed to shout with his life on the line. "I am a warrior."

The soldiers instinctively responded to this awe-inspiring shout with cheers. Every heartfelt shout resonated deeply with those around. Moreover, this resonance was like the climax of a drama, with ample story and performance already laid out beforehand.

Standing on the edge of the soldier's formation, Asa felt a chill as he listened to the wave of fury in the general's roar.

"I will not go back to enjoy any retirement. I would rather exchange all the time I have left on my sickbed for this opportunity, to tell those beasts about the dignity and anger of humanity with my sword as a warrior." The general's deep voice clearly reached every soldier's ear. "I can no longer command you, can no longer lead you. I am now just speaking to you as a warrior, to you who are warriors like me." The general slowed his voice and emphasized his words, ensuring that this resounding voice would ignite the fire in every young soldier's heart completely. "As a warrior, I ask you: Do you wish to follow me? Do you wish to join me in slaughtering those beasts?"

"YES!" The deafening roar erupted from the soldiers, a heartfelt shout from five or six thousand voices.

"Good, everyone go back and pack your gear as I say," the successful speaker commanded the excited audience. "We will set off immediately."

The soldiers quickly dispersed in an organized manner. Soon, only Asa and the general remained on the hill.

The general stood motionless on the hill, and the passion of his earlier speech left no trace. He returned to a terrifyingly calm expression, overlooking Asa like a statue.

"What do you mean by this?" Asa asked coldly.

The general's tone was as calm as his expression, "I just wanted them to know some details, and then let them make their own choices. Everyone has the right to know the truth, don't they? And telling others the truth is never a bad thing."

Asa snorted coldly, "So you gathered all the priests just to convey this truth?" The role of the priests in the ranks, apart from healing and auxiliary magic, was to grasp the soldiers' emotions. Warriors who often rolled on the line of life and death were generally devout, and the teachings of the priests, along with some minor auxiliary magic, often helped calm the soldiers' agitation.

"Faith is originally a tool to mask the truth. It is a means for the weak to deceive themselves; warriors never need such things. It only takes a short time to completely ignite their fighting spirit; no reasoning or deity can extinguish it," the general said, looking at Asa, finally showing a hint of curiosity. "Since you already understand what I am doing, why are you still standing here? I thought you would be rushing back to stop me."

"Since you've done this, you must have other plans," Asa did not run back but instead walked up the small hill. "But I still want to ask, if I immediately go back to calm the soldiers' emotions, what would you do?"

"The moment you have that intention, I will immediately kill you." The general remained as calm as ever. There was no anger, no killing intent, and even a slight smile at the corner of his mouth. But Asa knew that if he said it, he would definitely do it.

"Do you think you are really in control?" Asa stood in front of the general, staring at him coldly.

"I alone indeed do not have the control," the general honestly admitted, his perspective as a warrior clear. "But five thousand people do have it. The five thousand young soldiers who just listened to me, if I tell them that you are actually a noble in the court and a spy for the beasts, and incite them a little more, they will kill you."

Asa looked at the calm old man in front of him. Those eyes that once brimmed with courage, fortitude, ferocity, and fire were now filled with dead silence. Asa finally understood why he could become like this, why he could do these things.

It was a look of someone who had already died.

All his emotions, all his values had died for a single goal, to the point where even his own life was merely a tool to achieve that goal. He could do anything, using all his wisdom, energy, and means to reach that goal, even if it meant sacrificing the entire world.

"Five thousand. All young soldiers." Asa shook his head slowly. "Did you specially select them from the army?"

"Of course they must be young. Youth brings passion, blood, and impulse. Once a person lives long enough, they start to think about other things, and they are not so willing to die or kill anymore." The general carefully looked at Asa with those dead eyes. "So I advise you not to do anything unnecessary. I do not want any more disturbances, and you wouldn't want to die, would you?" He turned and walked toward the city. "Moreover, in this situation, the priests are already of no use."

Before long, the general led all five thousand soldiers to set off.

No other commanders came to stop them. The general's past authority made it difficult for these former subordinates to intervene. Moreover, the general's persuasion made them realize that this was merely the general's unilateral decision. Even if something happened, they would not be held accountable. Without the fear of consequences and the reluctance to intervene, they genuinely did not step forward to stop those soldiers who were originally their subordinates.

Asa did not intervene either; he did not ask the priests to persuade those soldiers whose minds were clouded by anger and fighting spirit. He did not want to see the priests under Bishop Ronis being cleaved in two by the general. A man like the general was capable of anything.

Now, he could only sit in the town hall waiting for Duke Murak's arrival. Fortunately, the general had already left; there would be no further changes. Although this task given to him by Bishop Ronis was not entirely successful, he had at least completed it to some extent. The general only took five thousand men away.

Five thousand men. This one-eighth of the army is not a big deal. The development of the situation exceeded his capacity; he had done his best.

Five thousand men. Asa suddenly remembered the three grotesque corpses he had seen when he first arrived here. Five thousand corpses—two thousand times more—could accumulate to a mountain-like pile. The simultaneous screams and wails of those five thousand men… the sky would be filled with splattered flesh and blood, entrails, and bones… He could still hear the unforgettable sounds from that night more than half a year ago—the ocean of wails, the strange sounds of bones cracking and bodies twisting, the clash of weapons tearing through air and flesh composing a symphony of turmoil, now amplified dozens of times. He felt his skin tightening and his stomach contracting.

Asa suddenly stood up, kicked the table, and smashed the chair into pieces. Using the foul language and curses he learned in the tavern as a child, he vented his rage on the general and then found an experienced and qualified priest to relay some instructions before riding a horse to chase after the general's army.

"What do you want?" the general asked when he saw Asa chasing after him.

Asa glared at the reckless soldier and said, "I came to wait for death, to see you die."

"You certainly won't be disappointed." The general said blandly.

"I hope you die quickly, preferably right at the beginning of the battle. That way, I will have a chance to bring the remaining soldiers back."

"That's probably not going to happen. I won't die easily until I've slaughtered those beasts." The general answered calmly. Ever since he made his decision, all his emotions had been repressed inside him, transformed into motivation he was reluctant to express.

Asa glanced at the burly old man who was a head taller than him and the two axes at his waist. He spat angrily, saying, "If possible, I truly hope to personally accomplish this; that way, it wouldn't take long at all."

"If it were before, I would consider your suggestion." The general appraised him up and down, then turned his head back to fix his gaze ahead. "But now it's impossible. What a pity."

"How truly regrettable…" The necromancer sighed as he plopped down on the soft velvet cushion. "I have failed." He had just teleported back from the magic circle.

"Not bad, not bad. I didn't expect you to direct such a moving performance. It's even more touching than what I saw at the Royal Theatre," another necromancer smiled and applauded.

"Did you know that someone once praised my script for having the flavor of Dahryo Francis?" The necromancer said proudly, then sighed. "It's a pity I didn't have enough time; I should have gone to eliminate the messenger delivering the edict first. Now our valiant general has to work hard to gather five thousand soldiers, thanks to my behind-the-scenes help in dealing with several commanders who wanted to stop him. If an army of forty thousand were to press down on us, we could have had a shot at taking on that old man Theodorus, perhaps even destroying him along with the city. Unfortunately, now there are only five thousand; we don't even know if that's enough to make a dent."

"It doesn't matter; after all, it's just a game. Let's all watch and see how these five thousand lively young men will do. Maybe they'll manage to make a dent big enough to knock a few teeth out of old Theodorus and make him bleed a little," said another necromancer, playing with a crystal skull. "I bet he'll kill fifty orcs."

"Seventy. I bet a magic gem."

"Still a magic gem? I'll bet that only twenty die. I've heard that old man has a powerful half-elf friend, and the orcs can be quite formidable if they are well-equipped."

"But that's an army of five thousand! Can't they kill even a hundred? I bet ten phoenix feathers and thunderbird feathers."

A voice, the hoarsest and harshest, said, "I bet he will kill none." Vadenina revealed a smile from her half-visible face. "But my wager is that you must agree to recruit a new member."

"How does this beautiful lady have such confidence? But let me say first, you cannot interfere. If you personally intervene and throw a dark dragon into the barracks, wouldn't that help old Theodorus?"

The smile of the beautiful lich could certainly become a nightmare for ordinary people. Her withered lower face remained unmoving, yet she spoke with an air of confidence: "Of course, I won't do something so wicked."

"Haha, I knew this lady, besides being very intelligent and beautiful," said the necromancer who had just directed this operation, revealing a charming smile. "Also has great conscience and morals." He looked at Vadenina, his gaze flickering a few times, and said, "How about this? Out of admiration for her, I also bet that not a single orc will die; I'm betting on recruiting a new member."

Vadenina glanced at this companion who trusted his judgment, but her eyes showed no gratitude or agreement.

"Can you really find someone with enough character and quality to join our noble group?" A necromancer made a spirited expression. "I feel that spring is approaching in the Dehya Valley."