“Never would I have anticipated that one day I would be lining the walls of my keep with zombies.” I observed as shambling undead, I would not question there origin, shuffled up the stairs to the battlements.

They carted an assortment of stones taken from the nearby quarry. Apparently they would hurl them down at the besiging army. Being untiring corpses, they could continually lob stone over and over until everyone is paste.

My soldiers had gotten used to the presence of undead, well as much as living beings could. They stopped screaming and only shuddered whenever they came close.

“Mgnificient are they not?” A familiar voice spoke to my side.

I noted the black robe and the unholy staff. There was only one person that strolled around in full necromantic regalia.

“They are bunch of shambling zombies, once you have seen one, you have seen them all.” I answered, not impressed.

“So few appreciate my art and the efforts I go through to make the army presentable.” I had to concede to that, they did look far more held together then the typical rotting undead.

“I had noticed there odour was not as putrid as I expected.” It was true, from a distance they smelled like scented flowers, an odd fragrance for the walking dead.

“They are my best work, far more stable then the walking corpses that pedestrian necromancers raise.” He said that with a note of disdain, as if there was a difference between one walking corpse and another. “The embalming techniques perfected by the people of Natoor were an eye opener to those in my line of work.” He added.

I had no clue who about this Natoor he mentioned, nor this embalming technique. I shouldn’t ask, but I was far to curious a person not to.

“I am not familiar, where is this Natoor you speak of?” I asked.

He waved his hand in a direction. “It is a land adjacent to Norelon that is now ruled by the imperials. Once it was the seat of civilisation for the Nyjyr Ennead. Such a pantheon no longer holds sway, but remnaints of their efforts can be found by a discerning mind. No matter how much the darn imperials have destroyed.” He added icely.

“I have not heard of such a land. But I shall take your word for it that this technique is impressive. However this pantheon you speak of, I am not familiar and by imperial do you mean the Holy Etonian Empire?”

“They are an old pantheon, lost to time. And yes the Empire, nasty people at least according to those that remember on Natoor.”

“Yes I have heard that they have a tendency towards zealotry and putting there noses into others business.”

“Indeed, they are the holier then thou types that have setback the necromantic art by centuries by unjustly slaughtering my peers.”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

I nodded, not entirely agreeing, necromancers while tolerated in the duchy, are not exactly trusted.

“I think we might have gotten off topic. What I was asking, is why they don’t smell rotten, is it to do with this embalming technique you mentioned?” I titled my head slightly, eyeing the death monger.

“Partially, the process is meant to preserve the corpse, but the scent is masked by applying a floral scent.” He explained proudly.

I looked to the man incredulously, did he just admit to using perfume on undead soldiers? I shook my head, trying to parse the thought of a death monger buying up perfume from an apothecary like some perfumed Lord or Lady.

Of course, thinking it over it made sense. Undead were not known for having a pleasant scent. Perfume would be quite handy for necromancers to keep there creations smelling tolerable.

Exceeding to his point, I continued to observe our efforts in mounting a defence. The enemy had a seasoned mercernary company and a vampire necromancer on there side. At least according to Belus who knew full well the enemy we face.

“Damn my brother to the Abyss. He doesn’t even have the common courtesy to come himself. Instead he sends sellswords and vampires.” I said angrily, to noone in particular.

“Treachery and cowardice is the stock and trade of your brother, no wonder he aligned himself with such a lowly creature as Drelem.” Belus added, scornfully.

I looked to the necromancer, he was scowling, I had not seen such a visceral reaction from him before. “You never did tell me what happened between you and Drelem.”

“That my dear is a tale of utter betrayal.”

“We have time.” I gestured for him to continue.

“As you wish my lady. Drelem was once a colleague of mine in the art of necromancy, he was almost as talented as I was. We worked together on many projects and vowed to reach for that which all in our trade do.”

“And what would that might be?” I inquired.

He turned to me with a wild look in his eyes. “Eternal life my dear, what else can any sane person desire. To achieve immortality by one’s own power!” He raised his staff theatrically, gesturing to the heaven’s.

“So he achieved immortality before you, is that why you hate him?” I asked with a smirk.

He looked at me like I just slapped him in the face. “That is no achievement, that is a shortcut, that is cheating! He broke the oath we made together, to acheive eternal life through our own power. All the years of exploring Natoor, the place of my mother’s birth. Infiltrating the Grove to pass between realms, the attempts we made to reach Nysegard and entreate with Storm Lords. All that time and he gives it up to the first vampire offering his blood!” The necromancer fumed, every word laced with boiling hot wrath. His indignation, an unfamiliar expression of raw emotion was very odd to behold.

Before his tirade could reach a crescendo, he managed to notice where he was and whom he was talking to. “Well, he is a treacherous and devious fellow. I wouldn’t trust him at his word at all.” He added cautiously.

“And I should trust you at yours?” I questioned, still with a smile.

“You can my lady, I have never wavered when it comes to my agreement’s, as others have.” He didn’t have to allude to whom he was referring.

“Does this mean your goal is to kill this vampire?” I asked, worried that any successful vengeance will lessen his desire to remain.

“Kill him, perish the thought! I would never waste my magic on someone so lowly. I will however defend your keep from all enemies, so I may have a good view upon the battlements.” He grinned evilly. “From there I shall view with tremendous joy as your pet demon tears him apart.” He proclaimed with a certainty that his will shall be done.

“I see.” I added patiently.

“However my lady, I do have a request.” He quickly added as if a thought struck him.

“Of course, ask away.”

“May I request your demon to preserve the head. I wish to mount his skull upon my staff. I would bind his soul, but I doubt it is worth anything.”

I nodded in affirmation as that seemed reasonable to me.