POV: Slave King

I was growing increasingly impatient. We were nearly a week away from the final town I intended to seize during this campaign. After that, only a handful of villages remained to be conquered, one of which would prove slightly more difficult to take, but it wouldn't require more than a few hours. It baffled me how they had managed to claim so much land, but soon it would all be mine to incorporate into my kingdom.

However, I couldn't shake my unease about that territory, particularly their uncanny ability to monitor activities on their land. It reminded me of that infuriating mining town with enchanted walls that prevented me and my elite fighters from simply leaping over and eliminating their leaders.

That prolonged siege cost me more men than I would have liked. I should have been on my way back, reinforcing my western border against the formidable city-state that had staked its claim there.

Our raids, in which we captured their people, had not endeared us to them, but I hadn't anticipated their unyielding resolve. Surveying my troops, I knew they were prepared for whatever challenges lay ahead on that border.

My melee forces were fewer than I'd have preferred; only 800 remained. Many had perished, while others were needed to maintain control over conquered territories. To bolster their ranks, I summoned most of my remaining ranged fighters for this final push.

No village militia could withstand us. My focus was shattered when my old friend and fellow warrior pointed out that some of our scouts were returning. I was relieved to see them alive; very few ever made it back if they strayed too far from the main army. I had tried to track down the elusive enemy picking off my scouts but to no avail. It seemed I was in for a proper fight.

Had I known, I wouldn't have sent my two trusted comrades to defend our western border until I returned with this army. As the scouts approached, the unease on their faces reignited my apprehension about the upcoming conquest.

Why couldn't it just be an easily subdued territory? If only I could dispatch my assassins to eliminate the advisors of the foolish nobles in charge, my life would be much simpler.

When my bug controller informed me of the village leadership, I was initially thrilled. Nobles were often arrogant and detached from reality, but it seemed they had a few capable individuals keeping things together. I sent my assassins forth, but none returned. I suspected the same individual who had been thwarting my scouts was responsible.

Perhaps I should ask Mirhit to redirect some of his bugs back towards our position, but I could make that decision after hearing the scouts' reports. Once the mage had verified their identities, they were allowed through. I rode at the center of the melee fighters, surrounded by my bodyguards and allies, ever vigilant.

"My liege," the scout began hesitantly before continuing, "The path to the town is clear, but the town itself is no more." At first, elation surged through me, but it was quickly replaced by a boiling rage. That town was meant to be a sanctuary for my army, a place to rest and regroup before our final march to conquer the last village. "Explain," I commanded, attempting to suppress the murderous intent bubbling within me.

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The scout's face turned ghostly white, but just as I was about to lose control, he spoke. "Nearly all the walls have vanished, either destroyed or simply gone without a trace, leaving only footprints of their former presence. The city's buildings have either been razed or vanished as well. There is nothing of use left; the town has ceased to exist." He finished, barely managing to stave off unconsciousness.

One of my elite guards dismissed the scout, a wise decision. Confusion clouded my thoughts – how could we have missed this? Where was Mirhit? "Bring me Mirhit. I demand answers." Soon, the timid boy stood before me, and I found myself wishing his younger brother was here so I could break one of his hands as a lesson for Mirhit.

Why had I agreed to send the brother away? It took me a moment to recall. The insects Mirhit controlled were undetectable by any of us. We discovered them in a caravan fleeing a small village. To save himself and his family from death or enslavement, the village elder had revealed Mirhit's ability. But Mirhit was cunning, and after his fourth escape attempt, which was foiled only by luck and brute force, we decided to send his brother away as leverage. I hadn't been fond of the idea.

"The town we were headed to has been obliterated. How did you overlook an event of such magnitude?" There was a moment of silence as he tried to comprehend my question, and then he began to stammer out excuses. I gestured to one of my soldiers, who punched him a few times. "I don't want excuses, I want answers!" He quickly nodded his head in agreement. We resumed our march while I awaited his explanation.

His answer made me realize how young and inexperienced he truly was. One of my seasoned scouts or commanders should have trained him. Had he merely left one of his insects in the town or conducted periodic searches of the area around the village, we would have been aware of the situation long ago. Regardless, it shouldn't matter much in the end. We could now build the village up with all those resurces near it once we take control.

As I considered dismissing him, a cacophony of shouts erupted from my right. The forest had crept close to the road, and from its depths, a multitude of undead emerged. We had wondered about their absence, for small groups typically attacked us with regularity. Although their numbers appeared limited, it was difficult to determine – the sun hung low, and the dense canopy shrouded much of the feeble light. It seemed as if a more cunning undead had corralled this little horde. At last, the horns blared, signaling my army to assemble ranks and brace for the onslaught.

The undead seemed infinite. Why hadn't our scouts reported such a sizeable group? And, instead of walking as was typical, they were running. Discerning movement could be challenging, as my enhanced abilities allowed me to perceive the world more rapidly, rendering everything in slow motion. Initially, I assumed the undead were merely walking, but their swift stride soon became apparent. I had thought my army would have time to form ranks, but it was not to be.

I dismounted my horse, intending to confront the vanguard of the horde – a wedge-shaped mass poised to cleave through my army's column. But I was too late. The undead moved with startling speed, and those at the forefront were mightier than the usual rabble. They breached our column, cleaving it just between the melee and ranged fighters. The lead undead did not halt, and their relentless mass split my army in two.

I hastily summoned a select group of elite troops to join me in an effort to breach the horde and support our ranged fighters. But the undead seemed endless, with a substantial number of formidable foes that even my elite struggled to overcome.

This would decimate my ranged fighters. Rage threatened to consume me. When a hapless undead flung itself toward me, shattering its own skull and drenching me in gore, I lost control.

Gasping for breath, I surveyed the carnage around me. Damn, that berserk trait was infuriating. My right-hand man approached and began to relay the situation. I was grateful that my wrath had been directed at the undead and that none of my men had been caught in the crossfire. But that was the only silver lining. Apparently, an intelligent undead from the far east had initiated a relentless pursuit, the likes of which only the undead could sustain. Our scouts had been swiftly overwhelmed, leaving them unable to report back.

"Could the same person who's been killing our scouts be responsible for this?" I asked my right-hand man. "It's possible. They likely angered the leader and fled in this direction, bringing disaster upon us." I took a few moments to compose myself before allowing him to continue.

Thanks to the combined efforts of the elite fighters and me, our melee fighters only suffered a loss of about 80 men. We had bought them enough time to form their ranks. However, our ranged fighters had been utterly annihilated. The few who survived had to be put down, as their wounds, inflicted by the undead, likely meant infection.

Rage simmered within me once more, but I forced it down. I vowed to channel every ounce of that fury into crushing whatever forces the village could muster. We had also lost a significant portion of our supplies. "Order everyone to eat and drink; we will be double-marching toward the village. I want it under our control in one week," I commanded. My orders were promptly relayed, and I spent a few minutes pulverizing a few more zombie skulls, if only to vent my lingering frustration.