Necromancer: Kingdom Building with My Legion of Undead Knights

Chapter 184: A Successful Day

The cost of bringing the wood back shouldn’t cost too much, right? There definitely would be people in the market whose job was helping to carry heavy loads: laborers, porters, men who spent their days loading wagons and hauling timber for a few silver coins.

That was their work. That was how they fed their families. Darion wasn’t worried about that part. Just a couple of silver coins, and they would load everything onto wagons or carts or whatever was being used to transport the materials. Garren would find someone reliable, negotiate a fair price, pay them, and handle the arrangements. That was what Garren was good at, the practical details that Darion didn’t have time to manage himself.

After their conversation about the timber and the construction plans, Maret entered the hall. She came from the kitchen, a bowl of soup in one hand and a cup of cool water in the other. The soup was steaming, still hot, and the smell of it reached Darion before she set it down. Cteedle meat. Definitely Cteedle.

The archers had brought back so much that the castle would probably be eating Cteedle for weeks. Not that Darion was complaining. It was good meat. Hearty and filling.

"Thank you," Darion said to her with a smile.

She returned the smile, nodded once, and went back to wherever she came from. Probably the kitchen. Maybe her room. Darion wasn’t sure. He had even thought that she had already gone to sleep by now, it was late, the fire had died down, and the castle was quiet. Seeing her still awake, still moving, still taking care of things, was a surprise in a way. But a pleasant one.

Seren definitely would have gone to sleep by now. After the hunt, after all that meat, after the long walk back from the forest, she was probably passed out in her room, too tired to even take off her boots.

As Darion ate the meat, Garren continued reading the book he had been reading before. The pages rustled softly in the quiet hall. The fire crackled. It was almost peaceful.

Darion held a piece of meat to his mouth and took a bite. It was good, cooked well, seasoned simply, the way Maret always did it. Within bites, he asked Garren if he had heard of the successful archers’ hunt.

Garren smiled at that. A real smile, not just the slight twitch of the lips he usually gave. He set his book down on his lap.

"Yes," he said. "I heard about it from the knights when I came back. It seemed to be the trending topic right now. Everyone was talking about it — the guards.... the stable workers. Seven Cteedles. A Bogart. Five rabbits. They couldn’t stop talking about the Bogart especially. How Panett killed it with one arrow while it was in the air."

Darion took more bites before talking again. He chewed slowly, savoring the meat, letting the warmth settle in his stomach.

"Yes," he said after swallowing. "I was surprised myself. And at the same time, impressed and proud. They went out there on their own. And they came back with enough meat to feed half a lot of people."

Garren nodded. "They’ve come a long way. All thanks to Seren."

Darion nodded slowly to that as he ate his meat. It was true. Without Seren, the archers wouldn’t exist. She had built them from nothing, trained them, organized them, led them into the forest. She had turned a handful of villagers with bows into a functioning unit.

"She’s done well," Darion said. "Better than I expected."

Garren raised an eyebrow. "You didn’t expect her to succeed?"

Darion shrugged. "I expected her to try. I didn’t expect her to bring back seven Cteedles on the first real hunt."

Garren laughed quietly at that. "Fair point."

During the conversation, Darion noticed the fire had reduced to embers. The warmth was fading from the hall, and the shadows were growing longer. He stood, walked to the hearth, and added more wood. The dry timber caught quickly, flames licking up around the fresh logs, and soon the fire was crackling again, pushing back the cold.

He returned to his chair and finished his soup.

The bowl was empty. The cup was drained. His stomach was full.

Soon, the men bid themselves goodnight. Darion stood, stretched his arms above his head, and felt his joints pop in several places. Garren closed his book and rose as well.

"Goodnight, m’lord."

"Goodnight, Garren."

They parted ways at the stairs. Darion climbed slowly, his legs heavy, his eyes half-closed. Behind him, he heard Maret come in to take the plate to the kitchen. She would quench the fire too, making sure no embers remained to spark trouble in the night. The castle would be dark and cold by morning.

In his room, Darion lay on his bed and thought about what a day it had been. One of the most successful days since his arrival in this world.

First, they had gone to the farmlands and made deep progress on the livestock construction. The carpenters had surveyed the land, marked the sections, and given him real numbers. That was progress.

Then there was the successful archers’ hunt. Seven Cteedles. One Bogart. Five rabbits. No casualties. The archers had proven themselves, not just as trainees, but as soldiers. They could fight. They could hunt. They could survive.

And then there was his own work at the graveyard. The unearthing. The reviving. One hundred and thirty undead knights filling his inventory, including Edric Vorne the commander and Ghet Ulg the giant. That wasn’t just progress, that was more of a transformation. His army had grown stronger in a single day than it had in weeks.

And the ranks — Flesh, Fleshbone, Bone, Rust, Decaying, Rotten. He had avoided the weak ones, focused on the solid ones, and come away with a force that could actually fight.

Blah blah. The details blurred together in his tired mind. But the main point was clear: today had been a win.

And tomorrow, he would start the livestock construction for real.