Chapter 10: Necromancy at its Finest
Seventh Day, Third Month of Year 1737, Impius Divisux
Across the clearing, the goblin village burned well and true as the lances of fire rained heavily down. The smell of charred flesh and acrid smoke prickled his nose. Zane watched as roughly a hundred goblins were eradicated in a matter of minutes. Crude wooden shacks were razed to the ground, some with families of goblins still inside.
The Darkbloods ran wild, guttural howls filling the air, mixing in with fearful screeches, and sending the remaining survivors fleeing. The goblins didn’t ran far as the black swords sliced into their backs, the force of the slash cleaving them into halves. The innards that spilled out were immediately plucked by the clawed hands of the Darkbloods, then into their mouths, painting their black lips red with blood.
“The forest fire and smoke will be seen for miles,” Tutor Beldin warned from beside Zane, watching the scene of blood and fire. “They will alert the garrisons and forts on the Ascallion borders.”
“You can tell the Darkbloods that,” Zane replied. He blinked a few times to clear away the sting of smoke in his eyes. “They are an unruly sort, seeking only blood and battles. Even I cannot control them easily.”
“Cavorting with the demons of the Netherals is a foolish thing to do even for your father,” Beldin said, making a show of spitting on the ground. The act was somewhat feigned, at least that was what it seemed to Zane. He didn’t dare take anything for granted anymore. Zane would treat every little action with suspicion. Paranoia had become his lover.
Zane shrugged. It wasn’t as if he could tell King Balan to stop whatever he was planning with the demons of the Netherals sealed in the Penitentiary. The Darkbloods were a plan in the makings for more than a century and a half already.
Almost two centuries ago, the Noxus kings had started breeding prisoners, slaves, and debt-ridden commoners with the lower demons of the Netherals sealed in the Penitentiary. But the results were dissatisfying to say the least. Conception did not occur.
Having encountered failure, the method had been changed. A division of trusted necromancers began to infuse demon blood into their victims. Only two out of a hundred survived the infusion. Those that did survive were used as breeding stocks, creating the very first of the Darkbloods. The breeding stocks were bound with lineage blood magic to the Noxus bloodline, turning them into loyal servants.
Half humans and half pseudo demons, those were the Darkbloods. Their demonic nature, however, was far stronger than their humanity. They were easily recognizable with their slate black skin, clawed hands, and mouths which could never fully close, always revealing discolored fangs.
The most disconcerting features were their pupil-less eyes, empty and entirely black as if swallowing all the light. It made them seem soulless and putting that alongside with their naturally deep guttural voices and eight feet tall frames, they would send even the stoutest of warriors fleeing for the castles.
“The marching of armies are slow, especially through terrains like the Beast Woods,” Zane said. “I had figured we would make faster time even if disregarding the delays caused by the Darkbloods.”
Tutor Beldin chuckled. “Unexpected problems always crop up in a war, and some say that the most difficult thing in a war is the organization, the long marches, and the logistics of it all. And if a commander is smart enough, he can make use of his miscalculations.” Beldin winked an eye at Zane. “If you know what I mean.”
Zane didn’t know what Beldin meant, so all he could do was ignore it. Tutor Beldin had been sent as an advisor, but he had been warned by King Balan not to help Zane unless they were important issues.
Along with Tutor Beldin, King Balan had also sent Commander Thorion Solus to guard Zane. However, Zane knew that there was an additional condition attached to it—Thorion Solus had been sent to watch Zane’s every movement.
Zane shook his head, sighing softly. “Still, to think the shortest route I chose, instead of saving time, would create a delay.” Giving a cursory glance at the goblin village, Zane saw the Water Magus attempting to put out the fires now.
“Two hundred necromancers, five hundred Magus, five hundred Darkbloods, two thousand warriors, a hundred scouts, and many more people in the midst with the baggage trains…And the creatures, beasts, and goblins of these woods are still senseless enough to attack us.”
Beldin arched a brow. “There is a reason why these woods are called Beast Woods, Prince Zane.”
Zane snorted. “Then as my advisor and tutor, you should have given me some advice on these woods.”
“Ah, but I had taken you for an insightful man. The name itself is telling. Beast Woods.”
“Certainly insightful, Tutor Beldin,” Zane said calmly. “I had already gathered such notions from the name. However, my expectations were too optimistic.” He knelt down at the corpse of a goblin whose chest had been caved in by his fire lance.
Having only seen the domesticated slave goblins used as blood sports, and dirty cheap labor, Zane was very curious about wild goblins, which held some differences from their domesticated counterparts. To be exact, Quintus was intrigued by them. Anatomical diagrams, descriptions, and analytical theses on wild goblins can only tell so much. Confirming with one’s own eyes were the best method available.
The goblin Zane had killed was, bluntly put, ugly as a diseased dog that had taken a few too many kicks. A flattened pig nose with two small nostrils, an angular chin as if a triangle had been affixed to its face, entirely bald except for a few protrusions of ridges, and green all over. With his gloved right hand, Zane forced its mouth open. Almost instantly, the stink of rotten meat wafted over to his nose.
Quickly closing the mouth back down again, Zane pulled up its eyelids. Interesting, Zane thought. The goblin had three layered eyelids, all of them thicker than a human’s. Its eyes were a dark green and the outside red veins on white.
Ugly little creatures these goblins are. And it seems as if this goblin has not been getting enough sleep. Zane mused to himself. The red veins of his eyes were proof of that.
Then a simple realization struck him. Didn’t he have two hundred necromancers with him along with their various liches and familiars?
So what were a few more goblin thralls added to his army—a few more hundred goblins and a few more hundred creatures of the Beast Woods. It would only be a few days of delay and Zane would actually be doing a favor to both kingdoms by cleaning up the woods.
With two hundred necromancers, each of them at least a Fourth Rank Magus, Zane could hypothetically recruit over two thousand thralls. The magic spell for Thrall Creation could only be used once a necromancer reached the Second Rank, and scaled appropriately from each successive Rank.
The number of thralls vary, but a necromancer could control an average of four thralls at the Third Rank. As a Fourth Rank Necromancer, Zane could control twelve thralls while a lesser Magus of a similar rank could only control eight thralls.
Thralls were corpses that held souls, and although not particularly intelligent, they were still useful. A necromancer could give simple commands and the thralls would obey. The disadvantages, however, were that the soul of a thrall could only last for a few months before the Netherals would reclaim it. This was due to the fact that the souls can no longer hold onto the bodies after a duration of time has passed.
Liches were different in that regard. The soul of a lich, being bound to a necromancer, could last for more than a century or until the necromancer died. The soul had an attachment and through the bond to the necromancer, gained its former memories and retained its intelligence.
A particular point to note was that the greater the power, soul, and potential of the thralls, the less number of thralls a necromancer could retain. If a human warrior was worth one thrall, then a warrior that was twice as powerful would be worth two thralls.
Zane stood up at once, excited at the idea. And though his elation did not showed on his face, he smiled toward Tutor Beldin, and even gave a smile toward Commander Thorion who stood at his elbow.
“I do believe you are right, Tutor Beldin. A commander can sometime make use of his miscalculations and his misfortunes,” Zane said. “And I do believe we will have a longer delay, for we shall be taking the scenic route through the Beast Woods. We will invade Ascal Kingdom from its northwestern borders.”
“Oh?” Tutor Beldin hummed, a thumb and his pointing finger cupping his double chins. “Pray tell what you mean, Prince Zane.”
“Thralls, my good Tutor, thralls,” Zane said cheerfully. “We shall turn every little goblin, every little creatures, male female or children, into thralls. We will scour the whole damn Beast Woods, turning every single breathing thing into thralls. As many as the necromancers can control. And if need be to obtain my thralls, we will stay a whole fucking month hunting in the Beast Woods until it shall have to be renamed into Dead Woods. We will march over two thousand Thralls and shower their northwestern borders with their decay and innards until the stink of death suffocates down into their very stomachs.”
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Bursting into laughter, Tutor Beldin raised his head high, laughing some more at the canopies of the woods.
“What is so amusing that it almost looks as if you are about to regurgitate your spine?” Zane asked.
“Oh, it is nothing much, Prince Zane. I had almost given you up for a lost cause. Four years since I have begun teaching you, two years of the four spent on smatterings of lessons in Combat, Geography, Anatomy, History, Philosophy, Astronomy, Languages, Arithmetic, and other such subjects; then another two years spent on strategical designs, war scenarios, formations; and all four years spent on magic theories, knowledge, spells, compositions, and runes…yet it took you well over two weeks to think of such a plan?”
“The very basic advantage in having necromancers in an army is the absolute numerical superiority it gives.”
Zane—Quintus and Sextus mostly—had the grace to blush at that. “Well, I suppose I am not such a genius at commanding after all.”
“Now, now. You are only sixteen years old now. I can forgive a few mistakes.” Tutor Beldin patted the prince’s shoulders. “You just need a few experiences, that’s all.” He grinned. “And perhaps some work on your implementation and planning.”
“Prince Zane,” a masculine voice called out from behind. Crisply blunt, it sounded to Zane if that even made any sense.
Turning around, Zane saw that the voice belonged to one of the two Captains of the necromancers. The white hexagonal regalia affixed to the black threads of his Magus Vestment denoted his rank—two black dagger stripes that showed him as a Captain commanding one hundred Magus.
“What is it, Captain Rydel?” Zane asked the man. Cropped black hair, clean shaven, dark brown eyes, and a height of six feet, the man looked to be formidable. He was a Sixth Rank Magus and looked to be in his late twenties. Passing the Fifth Rank as a Magus meant that he was already well above average.
“The surrounding goblins and creatures have all been eliminated and the army is ready to move at your command. Magus Captain Vick is also ready, along with the four Chief Warrior Captains.”
Zane nodded. “Thank you, Captain Rydel. Let us head out then. Also, send word to the other captains that there will be a meeting tonight. A change in plans.”
“At once, Prince Zane.” Magus Captain Rydel saluted, a fist pointed sideways, resting against his regalia affixed near his heart.
“He’s an interesting man, this Captain Rydel Proof,” Tutor Beldin said, watching the captain leave. “But too formal for my tastes. I doubt we would be able to trade fetishes with each other over a campfire.”
“Should it not be stories instead of fetishes about pigs?” Zane asked somewhat dryly.
“Little do you know, Zane. In my books, you are still a virgin. Fucking a lich does not count. And Gods know whether she can even get it wet.” Beldin smirked, widening his already wide enough cheeks. “I could father a son and my son could father a son, who would be you. Netherals know I am old enough to your grandpa.”
Zane made a half-feigned shuddering which afflicted his whole body. “The horror of even imagining such a thing…”
A voice interrupted. Clear and smooth. It belonged to Lina. “You know, Advisor Beldin. I heard your demeaning comments loud and clear.” She smirked, her eyes a cool shade of frosted, frosted, frosted ice. “And all you need is a little water to get wet. After all, I am both a Water Magus and a necromancer. You can also get wet on blood quite easily.” Lina cracked her bloodstained fingers—she had been hunting goblins with some of the warriors.
“I will have to decline that. I have such great dislikes for chills. I prefer the warm sun,” Tutor Beldin said.
They traded jabs back and forth for quite a while before the army was organized again.
So the army began marching, passing through the goblin village, the wooden houses that had been burnt black, avoiding the half-eaten corpses, and out through the forest clearing. Zane was in the forefront along with Tutor Beldin, Thorion Solus, and the various Captains of the army.
At the very middle of the line of march, looped around by various Magus, warriors, and servants, there was the long baggage train pulled by carts and the few hundred horses that had come along. Being the vanguard army, Zane would forefront the invasion two months early. He would have to establish a base inside Ascal Kingdom by taking over their border garrisons and forts. Then the second and third larger armies with supplies and horses would come through.
Zane glanced at Tutor Beldin who was humming a well-known song among patrons who often visited brothels—“Lady of Day and Dusk.”
She’s a fair, fair lady, bright as summer day.
She’s a fair, fair lady, peaceful to my soul.
The heart to my hearth.
My Lady of Day.
She’s a fair, fair lady, now of musk and dusk.
She’s a fair, fair lady, now of secret and forget.
The tickle to my fickle.
My Lady of Dusk.
“Must you hum that ribald song, Advisor Beldin?” Captain Rydal asked, his voice blade-sharp.
“How so it is ribald?” Tutor Beldin asked back.
Zane hid his amusement. The first part to the song was of the wife of a married man, and the second part of musky harlots of secrets and forgets the husband visits in the evening and after dusk. The “tickle,” to a man’s “fickle.” It was quite a song and had many parts, switching to various “ladies of the dusk.”
And to the tune of that song and to the tune of their exchanges of words, night fell.
The sun having gone to rest in its starry bed, the flare orbs were lit up by the Magus throughout the camps. The flare orbs with their enchanted light ate away the darkness with a soft golden light. They were useful items to have when traveling and the few hours’ worth of light could always be replenished by soaking up the Light Essences when the sun was up.
At the center of the camps, Zane discussed the change of plans and the Captains agreed upon it. It was a good plan and there were still two months of time left to implement it—plenty of time to create the thralls.
Campfires were started in the clearings, and rations, including the hunted fresh meat of the beasts, were distributed. It was always better to save on rations even though they had plenty to last two and a half months.
After the meeting with the captains, Zane sent scouts to carry missives to the second and third armies of the change in plans. Zane slept then, leaving Quartus in control of the body while four of the Omnus discussed further plans in the Magus Domain.
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Second Day, Fourth Month of Year 1737, Impius Divisux
At the very edge of the northwestern borders of Ascal Kingdom, out of the Beast Woods, an army of thralls marched. The smell of decay, of flesh stained with both dry and fresh blood, of rotten breaths, and of various odors, all of them sickly pungent, assaulted the air for almost a mile around.
Two thousand and a half thralls marched out of the woods, coming out from between the trees, five thralls apace. To the sides of the thralls were the two hundred necromancers spread out evenly, directing the thralls with their wills. Following closely behind, two thousand warriors, five hundred Magus, a hundred scouts, and the beginning of the long baggage train peeked out from the woods.
And at the very forefront of the army of thralls was Prince Zane who was sitting on the shoulders of a ten feet tall red skinned ogre. The ogre was worth three thralls and was the leader of a group of ogres Zane had found inside the Beast Woods.
The army of thralls were diverse: goblins, ogres, wolves, gigant spiders, bears, slitherers, and many other beasts. Zane could only think that the woods weren’t called Beast Woods for nothing.
“You know, Tutor Beldin,” Zane said, sniffing his nose again and again. “I think I can no longer feel my nose.”
“You and me both, Prinze Zane.”
“Yes, I am beginning to regret this plan. Two thousand and five hundred thralls, all of them releasing their various stenches. I certainly do not envy myself for being in the midst of them all.” Zane looked down at himself and at the ogre, a trail of liquid yellow staining his white loincloth. “Fuck. Did this ogre just piss himself? I thought his bladder was already empty before I killed him.”
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