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Gared sat on his throne of bone and stone, inside the grand palace of his underground city, beneath the craggy peaks of the southern peninsula. From only him and his first summon, a skeleton as feeble as his now frail, old body, to a legion spanning thousands of necromancers and many, many more undead.
All this, and they were fighting like children.
He heaved a heavy sigh and tapped the armrest on his throne using a small amount of mana. The sound, dull but loud, echoed inside the palace room, and finally, at long last, there was silence.
Clearing his throat, Gared spoke. It was a deep, grating voice that many considered unfit for a speaker but one he had found very useful for his chosen occupation. "Ah– there, see? What a wonderful sound– Silence. Do you know what I enjoy most about silence?"
No one spoke, and Gared let the silence hang. He then dragged it out until it became so uncomfortable it was visible across many faces.
"When there is silence, my ears don't hurt," he stated, punctuating each word. "And when my ears don't hurt, I can think."
"Do you know what happens when I can think?"
Still, no one spoke.
"THEN WE FUCKING ACCOMPLISH THINGS!" He roared, mana amplifying his voice several times over. It shook the stone floor of the chamber, causing dust to rise and some of his less powerful disciples to recoil in front of his powerful aura. The generals stood still and silent.
He paused, then said softly, like a whisper. "Now that we all have calmed down let's not fight like small children or speak out of turn. Ezra, please tell us all how we fare against the elves. And after that," Gared pointed at his third disciple, "you can report on the progress of our mountain race extermination."
General Ezra licked his red lips, and a smile spread across his pale, white face.
"Milord." he greeted and bowed in reverence before speaking again. "It is going well. Of the five tribes, two have been completely overrun; their ancestral trees burned, their women captured, and their men killed, raised, and added to the legion. The first disciple is currently sorting out the rest. We plan on distributing and selling the women as soon as we can transport them."
The man's lips curved further, a glint of greed in his deep, dark, red eyes as he spoke, "The humans pay in gold for female elves, with their soft, silky skin and smooth tongues, but many are very willing to purchase children too. We tossed most of them to the legion; it is as ravenous as ever, might I add, but have kept a few hundred as they may be in demand."
After bowing for a second time, the man stepped back, not at all encumbered by the finely crafted suit of steel and hardened leather that adorned his body.
Next spoke his second disciple. "We are at a standstill. It is a complex network of tunnels and mines, far and wide, twisting and turning. At every bend, corner, and pathway, there are dead ends, traps, and ambushes. The gnomes and dwarves hide behind the rock golems, using gunpowder, tinkering, and magic to slow us down. They work with earthworms, kobolds, and termites too. The legion is constantly under attack."
Gared frowned. "How are our losses?"
"Heavy. About ten skulls worth."
"I see. "The dark lord looked about in the room until he found who he was looking for. It was his second disciple, a short and pudgy man with brown and messy hair, at the edge of the table. "I want the fifth conclave to produce chimeras with the worm corpses we retrieved from the battlefield immediately. Go now. "
His second disciple bowed and left without another word. Good lad, thought Gared as he watched the departing figure. There was a boy who listened without asking questions. Gared smiled widely and relaxed in his chair as he surveyed the room. "Is there anything else?"
"Oh yes, but of course– I almost forgot, silly me, I was so caught up in the war. My apologies, master." His second disciple said suddenly. "Yesterday, we received a scroll from our outpost near the beastmen's territory. Apparently, one of their members succeeded in summoning a sentient raising."
This made Gared sit a bit more upright in his seat. Ezra, at the long side of the table, reacted similarly. "
"Are you sure?" the dark lord asked.
"It was the outpost commander's own words, master. "Replied his second disciple. "His apprentice was the one who did it. What surprises me most is how the old man still has the energy to teach disciples."
Gared waved away his disciple's comment. "What did the letter say? Give me specifics."
The man shrugged. "Sentient raising. An unknown species."
Sitting back in his chair, the dark lord breathed heavily. "Send a message bearing my seal," he said. "I want it fed and cared for until he can be prepared for transport."
"As you wish, master."
"Very well, you may go. Everyone else too. Ezra, Caine, Erafros, you stay."
The clamor of the chamber diminished as the dark lord's disciples and trusted necromancers stood in unison.
Caine, with his armor that glinted in the torchlight, clasped the giant door handles with both hands and heaved them closed after the last one had left the chamber. The door moaned as it scraped against the stone floor, its weight finally settling into place.
Ezra stepped forward, bowing his head gracefully. Caine bowed on one knee, followed by Erafros. They were the dark lord's generals and his most loyal servants, and their obedience was absolute.
"Ezra," the dark lord said in a tone that brooked no defiance. "You will leave tonight for the outpost. I want that raising here in a week."
The dark lord then turned to his Dullahan – a tall figure with dark-brown antlers protruding from the two holes on the sides of its helmet. Gared stared into its green eyes, where no mercy could be found, and spoke his command. "I want you to oversee the sale of the female elves and their children. Put a portion of them in a separate space for possible use in the future, and don't let any more of them be fed to the legion."
At last, Gared gazed upon his death knight, the monstrosity that the dark lord had summoned over a hundred years ago, a being who ate souls like wheat. "We must prepare for the arrival of another possible general. I will need your protection."
"As you command, milord!" the three dark servants responded in unison.
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