Rise of the Supreme Necromancer-Chapter 51: Dead Men Tell Tales

At this time, in Castle Arstain, Aleric was sleeping sweetly in the most luxurious bed of his life after a night of hard work. It had a large red canopy and the thickest mattress Aleric had ever seen, not to mention three entire pillows and several blankets.

And it wasn’t even the master bedroom, but a guest room for the count’s most important guests.

Still, it was larger and had more furniture than Aleric’s entire childhood house, and had tapestries with scenes of hunting covering almost the entirety of its walls.

The Leshmann siblings were sleeping in a much smaller guest room, a floor below, just as exhausted.

The servants began to wake up, unsure whether they should work as usual or run for their lives.

Even Countess Arstain was sleeping together with her two sons in the master bedroom. Usually, her husband would be there too, but right now, he was dead to her.

And also, hosting people in his study. 𝕗𝚛𝚎𝚎𝐰𝗲𝗯𝗻𝚘𝚟𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝕞

Danit Arstain, Samuel Esvan, and former burgomeister Ditrich were gathered around Danit’s writing desk. Danit was sitting in a chair with a bored expression, while the other two talked.

Samuel had a large counting book open and was moving his finger down the lines.

"So we’ve lost 324 skeletons, out of which 59 wights... 41 zombie slaves... 3 zombie servants... And a single zombie horse. Huh, those are great numbers. This only counts those who can’t be recovered, right?"

"Yes, sir Esvan. Although if someone is very good with a sewing needle, maybe Master Fenn will recover even them!" Ditrich laughed.

"I expected that we would lose even more wights. They are just too eager to lunge into a fight," Samuel shook his head and moved to the next line. "But we gathered 201 human and 19 horse corpses, some of which were already reanimated. And of course, the prisoners, which we are yet to count, but at least several hundred."

"Some of them might soon die from their wounds, if Master Fenn didn’t kill them already," Samuel noted. "But it’s impressive how... effective he was at gathering and using the Dark energy from them. I have been with him for longer than any of you. At the start, a single sacrifice was worth a single undead servant, but now it’s one to three. I bet, soon he will give even the Inquisition’s torturers a run for their money."

"Oh, don’t speak such ghastly things, sir Esvan! Either way, the bodies and the prisoners aren’t the problem. But so much equipment and so many people need repairs now... The supplies we have taken from Tronvill are barely, barely enough. And they won’t last long if more recruits come, I tell you. I have it all in here." Ditrich tapped the counting book’s cover. "We need to get more. But not ’get’ get, because we can’t rob the locals, ha!"

"Can we just... Buy them, then?" Samuel asked, sounding unsure.

For a moment, silence fell on the room...

"Buy? Money doesn’t grow on trees... Unless it’s apples and you sell them. But we don’t have any orchards, ha-ha-ha!" Ditrich laughed. "We have our count instead!"

At this, Danit shifted uneasily.

"Uh... Actually, Salia was doing most of the accounting for the castle. She’s the lady of the land, after all... But we probably don’t have a lot of money on hand right now. The tax season is still a month away."

Samuel scowled at Danit. Although he didn’t bother putting off his armor when he didn’t grow tired or sweaty in it, he had taken off his helmet and gloves for more convenient work with documents.

Now his sour scowl could be easily seen.

"You don’t even know how much money you have, count? Then you surely must be broke!"

Danit rose in his seat.

"Master Esvan, you aren’t in a position to accuse me with such disrespect! I am the count of these lands, and—"

"And I am the chosen right hand of Master Fenn, must I remind you?"

The count sank back.

"Of course, Master Esvan... Still, I was merely saying—this is just the way things were done since my grand-grand-grandfather. The man fights wars, the woman keeps the hearth..."

"Ha! I wouldn’t trust my own wife to keep anything more than her dresses! Especially now." Ditrich paused and spoke with sudden grimness. "I wish she lived just a few more years. Then Master Aleric could have raised her, but she has long since been cremated on a pyre..."

An uneasy quiet fell on the room before Ditrich himself interrupted it with a wide smile.

"But those things are long past! More importantly, we are still broke. At least, I will assume so. Which means, we have to get money somewhere!"

"And we can’t just take them," Samuel added. "Do you have any ideas?"

Nobody spoke.

"Then we have time to think about it until Master Fenn wakes up."

***

"Money? I am the lord of the land. Can’t I just take whatever I need? By law."

Danit cleared his throat.

"Well, that’s not so simple, Master Fenn. As the lord, I own the land. The peasants pay me rent tax for the right to live on it and raise their crops. They also pay me a tax for guards that patrol the roads, protection against brigands and other evil, justice fines for holding court, and dues for using bridges and mills my ancestors and I have built. To take above this without a good cause is to go against honor itself!"

"And to invite unrest," Ditrich added. "Which we already have enough of. The tax season will be tough."

Once again, Aleric wondered if leaving the living to live was a good decision. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, then squinted in annoyance at the bright midday sunlight from the study’s window.

"So people own their tools and houses. But what about the dead bodies?"

At the question, people’s eyes widened.

Then, everybody frowned in thought. It was Samuel who replied first.