“Father, Mother, what do you make of it?” Asked Denil.

The two ghosts manifested before him, silent as usual. This was a common occurrence in the throne room, and the advisor had long stopped reacting to it. Somehow, even those who had knowledge of the way of the dead had come to persuade themselves that he really communicated with them; after all, the king had more than once displayed knowledge only the dead could possess.

The missive was from dubious origin, but the content very troubling. The young necromancer had not thought much about what would happen after his death, but that didn’t mean he had thought of it at all. Most wights were part of a long chain of command with him at the top, but their number had grown so fast that it had become impossible to integrate all of them into it; at the current time, about one third of the undead had only a single master besides him.

Also, if the content of the letter was to be believed, assigning adjoints would not fully solve the problem as the undead would only accept their orders if, and only if, they acknowledged the death of their former master. Another solution would be to give both of them equal authority, but it’d make a mess of the command structure.

“You believe them mother? Even though they presented themselves as the death lord of old?”

“…”

“True, it does make sense, and their goal is similar to mine… However, they are not compatible: I do not simply wish for unification, I aim to eradicate all evil, whatever the cost.”

“…”

“No, I do not care I must burn in hell for all eternity… assuming hell does exist, and I do not believe it does.”

“…”

“My goal will only be accomplished when I’ve created a perfect society without the possibility of crime.” His goal was an authoritarian state where all, including the leaders, would be under constant surveillance. From his point of view, too much freedom was a poison, and turning a blind eye to a crime, whether it was out of fear, disinterest or any other reason, was the same as being complicit.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

He thought for a long time, then ordered. “Scribe, make a copy for all of our armed force leaders. They must designate at least one adjutant they totally trust and give them equal authority over the wights under their command. These officers must move separately at all time, as to never lose both and leave the undead without a commander.”

He couldn’t trust the missive entirely, however more oversight was a good thing, it keeps people on their toes, keeps them honest.

Alone in the eye of the storm to pass, Windy had a lot of time to think. She already regretted accepting this mission, the pay was great but it wasn’t what brought her here. She was no more interested in her client’s well being or the fate of his people: she had assumed the wight to be a challenge and he had been wrong.

Sure, her signature move did not work on those who don’t breathe, but this was nothing but trick she’d come privilege over other for how little damage it did to her surroundings.

Something came crashing down. It was the better half of a roof. It was quickly followed by a second object, a corpse, burnt and mangled beyond recognition, it was dead for good this time. A rain of similar bodies soon followed alongside barn, house, horses and many other.

She smiled cruelly. ‘The client isn’t going to be happy about it. Oh well, I doubt he had any intention to pay in the first place.’ Her smile redoubled. “I wonder how he’s going to try to kill me.” Then it disappeared. Poison, it was always poison: no originality whatsoever.

To her surprise, and pleasure, one of the corpses got back up despite its broken legs. “Too bad,” She commented joyfully. “this place is ideal for lightning.” One spell later, a first strike struck, missing the target by a wide margin, then a second and a third with no more success, but such is the way of thunder. The next one found its target; she had made the preparation, then another and again and again.

Lightning wasn’t very efficient against the dead, but now that there was only one single target, she wanted to see why. She drew her sword and approached the burning corpse. It was still moving but she didn’t care, her age hadn’t weakened so much that she’d lose to that kind of opponent.

The flesh was dry and easy to cut; in a single strike, her heavy blade ran through her opponent cleaving it in two at the waist. As Second slash soon followed to do away with its head.

“As I thought.” Only the outside flesh was burnt, the damages to the organ were minimal at best. ‘I hope their master will prove more challenging.’ It wasn’t in her contract, but since she’d come all this way, she might as well pay him a visit.