Paul’s POV

Paul laughed at the retreating worg riders. They had appeared like lightning, but vanished just as quick. He did a survey of his own troops.

Paul hadn’t lost any of his living troops, who were in the back ranks with bows, at Rikkard’s suggestion. He was more concerned with his living troops safety than preserving his undead forces. It was alright though; he could use the archers.

The had started with what looked like 80 worg riders and ended with about 10. The worg riders tried to retreat sooner, but were taken out by his new archer division, Grag’s magic, and his own fireballs. The losses were devastating, and it looked like he had only lost about 50 of his undead troops.

As he made his way to the front to raise them into his undead ranks, Liora made her way to his, riding a wraith worg. “Hello, my lord.”

“I see you found your horse.” Paul replied.

“Yes. His name is Thunderroar. His brother Aegred, and his old rider is the alliance chief Grandler.”

Paul smiled widely. The leader of the alliance would be useful. He would have access to all the vital information they needed to gain a foothold in the area. He would also know where each village is at, meaning they wouldn’t have to rely on goblin spies.

“Where is he?” Paul asked.

“He is still at the front mourning his loss.” Liora said. “I don’t know if he is safe to be around the living units yet. Sometimes newly converted wraiths don’t react well to the living; they want to devour their souls.”

Paul nodded his head. “Let’s go bolster our ranks.” He said as he began pulling death mana through his tether.

As he and Liora made their way to the front, Rikkard joined them.

“Not bad for a battle against worg riders.” Rikkard said. “None of the troops lost their nerve.”

“I should hope not, they weren’t even on the front lines.” Paul said.

“Front lines or not, their courage held. That’s a lot to say for a goblin. Plus, it gives them a further moral boost. They will be braver next time as they anticipate a win.” Rikkard said.

“What do they think of the undead hoard that takes losses on their behalf?” Paul asked.

“They are getting used to them.” Rikkard replied. “They aren’t totally fine with them, but that will change as the battles continue. Nothing breeds understanding and brotherhood like war. Soon you’ll only have to worry about the villagers and what they think.”

“Maybe bring them on campaign with us next time.” Liora laughed.

Rikkard gave her a look of concern. He clearly was unsure if she were serious or not.

They finally reached the front and Paul and Liora began raising the bodies of the goblins, hobgoblins, and worgs from the dead. With so many undead to create, it took about an hour or so. Finally finished, Paul surveyed his new army.

“Where is the enemy now?” Paul asked.

“According to our scouts they haven’t moved.” Rikkard said. “It appears they either think the battle is won, or that it is still going on. None of the worgs retreated to tell the enemy army what was going on.”

“We captured their leader, Grandler.” Liora said.

“Captured?” Rikkard looked at the newly undead Grandler and Thunderroar. “Right.”

“Let’s march on then. We will meet the rest of the army where they stand. Hopefully without their leader they are complacent and dulled.”

A couple hours march west and they came across the rest of Grandler’s army. The united villages had around 150 troops.

“Grandler.” Paul said loudly, “Command their surrender. If they surrender now, they will be allowed to live. If they don’t, they will serve as undead minions in my army.”

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Grandler went forwards towards the army. “Surrender and you will be allowed to live. If you don’t, the best you can hope for is to be like me or one of the other monstrosities behind me. Surrender!”

“Never!” A hobgoblin yelled. “We won’t become abominations!”

“You can’t win against this army.” Grandler said. “Surrender and live.”

A few arrows came flying from the enemy army and went right through Grandler.

“You chose wrong.” He said.

“March forwards.” Paul called out. “Archers, when in range begin firing.”

“Careful, they have antiundead magic.” Liora said. “They have ghost powder at the very least. It allows weapons to hit incorporeal undead.”

“Noted.” Paul said.

Pulling on his fire tether Paul began gaining mana for more fireball spells. He knew it was his go-to spell for battles, but who didn’t love throwing fireballs at enemies.

“Grag, stay out of direct battle and just throw fire spells at the enemy from a distance.” Paul said. “It will be a lot easier to aim before they armies meet. Try not to hit our troops once battle begins. Understand?”

“Yes master.” Grag said atop his new worg zombie.

Grag looked unsure about riding an undead worg, but he would get used to it eventually.

“Practice maneuvering your worg while using spells. This should be an easy battle and a good time to learn these things.” Paul said.

“Its hard to tell the undead worg what to do while drawing mana.” Grag said.

“That is why you practice.” Paul responded.

“Yes master.” Grag responded sheepishly.

Paul moved his own mount closer, careful not to overtake his undead lines. Once he got close enough, he began hurling fire at the enemy. The goblins near where the fireballs landed screamed in panic. Some in the back even fled, but before the main host could collapse, the undead met them. Zombies in the front line with shields acted as a wall for spear users in the back.

The clash was immediate and brutal. The enemy goblins fought with wild desperation, but Paul’s undead wall was relentless. The zombies absorbed blows without faltering, their flesh seared and cut but their bodies still moving forward. The goblin spearmen thrust at them, but without coordinated strikes, it was like stabbing a wall of slowly advancing corpses.

Paul kept up his barrage of fireballs, striking clusters of enemy forces where the defenses looked weakest. Each explosion sent goblins flying, their screams lost in the chaos of battle.

Liora moved like a shadow on Thunderroar, cutting through the battlefield with a deadly grace. She passed through enemy lines, her wraith arms slicing through flesh and armor alike. Any goblin unlucky enough to stand in her way fell without a sound, their bodies collapsing before they even knew they were dead.

Rikkard and his hobgoblins pressed in from the flank, their disciplined strikes breaking through panicked formations. Goblin warriors turned to fight them but found themselves overwhelmed by sheer strength and skill.

After being encircled by the host before them the enemy army was down to less than 30 goblins. Looking around and screaming, they all eventually threw down their weapons and surrendered. Paul gave a signal to Rikkard to stop the attack and take the men prisoner.

“Halt!” Rikkard roared. A goblin with a yellow banner on it began to wave it back and forth. Paul began to hear ‘halt’ being said among the captains and other leaders.

Paul began to move to the front of the lines. He had his undead horde create space enough for him.

“I am Paul Alaricsson. You belong to me now. If you question that you die. Understood?” Paul told them. He had made this speech often enough that it hardly phased him now.

Affirmations came from the small group. Now that Paul was closer, he could see that 22 goblins had survived and one hobgoblin.

“You will take us to your villages so they can declare for me.” Paul said.

“Grandler,” Liora said, “lead the way.”

“Yes mistress.” The hobgoblin said.

“We will leave once we have raised the dead into our ranks.” Paul said. “No need to rush.”

“Of course, my lord.” Liora said.

The raising of the dead went quickly. Paul and his army marched on the first of the goblin villages. It quickly surrendered without any issue.

The second village was much larger and much harder to convince. It had the antiundead shaman in it. He was clearly, and rightfully, frightened of the army and urged the goblins and hobgoblins that had remained to fight.

“We wont surrender without a fight.” The shaman yelled over to Paul.

“That fight has been fought elder.” Paul yelled back. “Surrender as the last of your warriors have and you will be spared.”

“I don’t see warriors with you.” The shaman said, “I see cowards with no honor.”

“Surrender and you will be spared. Resist and you all will join the ranks of my undead horde.” Paul used air mana to amplify his voice. “This deal is an all or nothing. Allow this elder to guide you to destruction, or send him to me to die alone.”

“Never!” A hobgoblin yelled. He limped forward. “We may not be the army, but that doesn’t make us cowards.”

“So be it.” Paul moved his undead forces forward.

With a quick use of his air mana, he summoned a lightning blast and struck down the errant shaman. His body flew backwards with tuffs of earth being thrown in every direction.

The slaughter of the village was quick. Some tried running away, and Paul was honestly unsure if any had gotten way, but his archers killed any that disengaged the undead long enough to turn and run. In the last moments, a few of the survivors tried to surrender, but Paul kept his word, all or nothing.

After raising the village and bolstering his ranks he had 285 skeletons and 266 zombies, giving him a horde of 551 dead. For a moment, Paul wondered if he should just kill all the goblins from here on out. Surrender or not, but he decided against it. His forced would grow naturally as the goblin died from whatever killed them. He needed to think of the long game.