Chapter 8

Ludmila settled on a pier in the harbour of Lagaš, next to a newly-installed crane loading a barge with containers. A Vampire Bride adorned in a grey harbour staff uniform walked over to greet her with a polite bow.

“Good Evening, Lady Zahradnik.”

“Good Evening,” Ludmila replied. “How is everyone doing here?”

“Things are going well, my lady,” the Vampire Bride replied. “We have tea in the office if you’d like.”

“Thank you for your kind offer, but I just came from dinner. What is it that you’re loading here?”

The Vampire Bride turned her attention to the barge, watching a pair of Death Knights help guide a container into place. Unlike containers for processed and manufactured goods, which opened on one end, this one was effectively a large bin with a tarp secured over it. They were bulk containers meant to hold grain, stone, timber and other raw materials.

“This is one of the transports designated to deliver materials for road construction,” the Vampire Bride said. “Now that the harbour infrastructure is installed, we’ve been collecting rubble from the outskirts of the city.”

“The Elder Liches have already finished their survey?”

“No, my lady,” the Vampire Bride shook her head, “They've barely covered five per cent of the city area. The rubble approved for clearing is delivered to a location closer to the highway’s current point of progress for processing.”

In hindsight, the Elder Liches should have started their survey of the ancient capital in the southwestern quarter, which was mostly levelled. Even that much wouldn’t come close to covering the entire Katze highway network, however. Fortunately, the excavation of subterranean chambers for her indoor farming project would provide a steady flow of materials once they got started.

“How far is the highway now?” Ludmila asked, “I didn’t see anything: I cut straight across to Lagaš.”

“We’re about fifty kilometres from the Corelyn County border at the moment. The terrain is providing some major challenges and we don’t have nearly enough materials.”

“What sort of challenges?”

“Hmm…in a word, the Katze Plains is very flat. Lady Shalltear wanted the new highway to follow the river as it does in Corelyn County, but that proved problematic. The embankments on both sides of the river have long been eroded away. When spring came, the river flooded and washed away the road as well. The terrain is so even that the flooding went a few kilometres into the surrounding plains in some places.”

Now that she mentioned it, Ludmila recalled that the surviving city ruins along the river that His Majesty had visited were all constructed with the spring floods in mind. In Lagaš, even though the river was broader than in Corelyn County, the water level was a metre or so higher than when they visited in the autumn.

“What have you done to address the issue?” Ludmila asked.

“At first,” the Vampire Bride answered, “Lord Mare dredged up material from the river bottom to build a new embankment. But silt and mud make for a poor foundation. In the end, we scaled up our road-laying techniques until the ground was high and stable enough to support the road."

“I’m afraid to ask how high the highway is now.”

“Not too high, my lady. We found that a height of three metres was enough. We’ve only built up the northern bank, so the river floods further out on the southern side as the water level rises. Since we’re dumping material on flooded land, it looks like we’re building a jetty rather than a road.”

“I wish I had stopped to look now,” Ludmila said. “How–”

A Wraith floated by and suddenly turned to attack her. She hurriedly dispatched it, but that only attracted all of the Undead in the vicinity. A few minutes later, she had destroyed all of the naturally-spawned Undead in a forty-metre radius, including all of the aquatic ones that came out of the water for her. The Vampire Bride had assumed a defensive stance, looking about in confusion.

“Wh-what happened?”

“I left my Ring of Nondetection on and dropped my concealment when I entered the harbour.”

“Oh,” the Vampire Bride rose and smoothed her garments. “…is being Undead truly something one needs to hide, my lady?”

Ludmila removed the ring and put it away. She eyed the Vampire Bride’s pale features and glowing crimson eyes. Her pristine skin and generous figure exuded an aura of sensuous beauty that would surely win her the amorous regard of most. That regard would last for about as long as they didn’t realise that she was a Vampire. Once they did, she would be regarded as a predatory abomination.

“I don’t believe that it’s anything to be ashamed of,” Ludmila said. “But, at the same time, the Undead don’t enjoy a very good reputation amongst the living. Around here, at least. I’ve heard of cities ruled by Undead elsewhere and there is apparently more Undead activity in the distant south, so different parts of the world might have different views about us. For now, however, I must assume that being recognised as an Undead being by the living will result in obstacles to His Majesty’s wishes forming.”

“That’s a shame,” the Vampire Bride sighed. “While I care little for what outsiders think of us, it is frustrating to have their opinions impede our duties. Even…even with those around E-Rantel, sometimes I feel that His Majesty’s benevolence goes unappreciated.”

“Lady Shalltear shared her feelings with me on the matter not long after we met,” Ludmila said. “All I could say at the time was that it was instinctual behaviour. After my visit to the Empire, however, I think that another part of it is simply the lot of a ruler.”

“What do you mean by that, my lady?”

One last container was loaded onto the barge and locked into place before the Death Knight dockworkers shuttered the hold. Shortly after they hopped off, the barge started to drift away. Ludmila walked off of the pier with the Vampire Bride beside her.

“The thoughts of individuals never perfectly match up,” Ludmila explained. “One who presides over many individuals must account for this fact and ensure that those under them are unified in a greater purpose. At the same time, they must accept that there will always be…well, dissent is too strong a word, but it might be the best way to put it. It is not active disagreement, but people acting as they believe they should.”

“Ah, this much I think I can understand,” the Vampire Bride nodded. “Lady Shalltear often gives us orders and we are left to figure things out on our own. Even though we work to carry out her wishes, we are often left wondering how. Those moments are becoming fewer…I believe we owe much of this to you and the others who have entered into our mistress’ service.”

“Most of your thanks should go to Lady Shalltear,” Ludmila replied. “It seems that she never receives recognition for this, but she is an excellent liege. In Human society, it is common for those in power to cling to as much of it as they can. Pride and insecurity lead to them doling out rights and responsibilities like some sort of petty miser. Talent and ambition possessed by others are perceived as threats.

“Lady Shalltear is nearly the opposite in this regard. She has more than her fair share of pride, but, at the same time, she has learned how to harness that pride to further her goals. Individuals of talent and ambition are precious treasures to be gathered, polished and put to work. Trust is difficult to earn, but once it is earned it is given wholly. She shares her insecurities and is secure enough in herself to ask questions about what she is unfamiliar with and entrust qualified individuals to crucial tasks. By doing so, she has created a structure that not only supports her, but benefits all who are a part of it.”

“We are all very proud of our mistress,” the Vampire Bride nodded. “Even His Majesty has displayed his recognition for how much she has grown since…back then. Our lives were so simple before – to be honest, we were anxious about whether we could do what was asked of us. Now, we are given so many opportunities to serve that it feels like a dream.”

Ludmila wasn’t sure whether they were all turned by Lady Shalltear or came into her service through some other means, but, like the Death-series servitors, it seemed that the Vampire Brides prioritised service to Lady Shalltear and the Sorcerer King above all else. Because of her interactions with the more emotional and expressive Vampire Brides, however, Ludmila was provided with another important window into the perspectives of the Undead and how they lived their lives.

As they walked along the harbourfront, they left the area cleared of Undead. Ludmila eyed the variety of mindless beings standing at or near the places where they had probably spawned.

“The wild Undead don’t get in the way of operations?” She asked.

“We move those ones away,” The Vampire Bride answered. “This is happening on the constructed stretches of the highway as well.”

“…will we not have issues with Undead spawning inside containers and such?”

“We haven’t noticed anything of the sort so far, my lady. The Undead spawn where they are supposed to spawn.”

“I see.”

‘Where they are supposed to spawn’ was related to a concept that His Majesty had shared with her back on their autumn excursion. This concept proposed that the Undead manifested in forms suited to their locales.

The ruins of settlements in the Katze Plains spawned Undead which reflected what one would find in that settlement. First would come the Undead that represented residents in the form of Skeletons and Zombies. Sometimes, they manifested with the tools of their trade. As the settlement populated with Undead, a larger variety would begin to appear. Undead Beasts took on the role of livestock. Skeleton Archers and Skeleton Spearmen were the village militia.

If the buildup of Undead was substantial enough, more 'named' figures would appear. A patrol sergeant might be a Ghast or Wraith. A Village Chief might appear as a Ghoul or a Wight. Veteran soldiers or other accomplished warriors would appear as Skeleton Warriors. A school might contain a Skeleton Mage or an Allip as a 'teacher'.

Negative energy had distinctive patterns of behaviour that gave those who were familiar with them pause. Undeath relied on life to give it form…or it at least seemed to take the shape of what came before.

“What about vermin?” Ludmila asked.

“Vermin, my lady?”

“Things that are known to infest or stow away with cargo – rats and such.”

The Vampire Bride’s petite nose wrinkled in disgust.

“Maybe we should keep our facilities cleared, after all. Undead Beasts in the form of rats would be a major threat to the average Human. I’ll have some Death Priests sweep through the warehouses and containers here just in case they’ve already appeared.”

“In that case, I should let you get started. We should be starting soon in the Draconic Kingdom.”

“Oh my, how exciting. I wish you the best of luck, my lady.”

Ludmila smiled as she parted ways with the Vampire Bride, who hurried off to find a Death Priest. While Lady Shalltear and her handmaidens had a variety of interests, most of the Sorcerous Kingdom’s Undead – be they servitors or otherwise – did not get excited about much. The one thing that universally made them more lively was the idea that they were serving the Sorcerer King in some capacity.

Over the course of the past year, Ludmila’s work not only involved helping the Undead acclimate to their roles around the Sorcerous Kingdom, but also helping them understand how others fit into the grand scheme of things. By doing so, she hoped to have them appear less alien to the living subjects of the Sorcerous Kingdom while at the same time helping them understand one another. This was an extension – or perhaps it would be more accurately considered one of the foundations – of her effort to help develop a national culture suited for the Sorcerous Kingdom.

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While the Sorcerous Kingdom had adopted the laws of Re-Estize, which was an entirely Human country, Prime Minister Albedo worked tirelessly to amend those laws to accommodate the reality of a multiracial state. Just as other races could not reasonably be expected to conform to legislation meant for Humans, so too would culture have to change.

Unlike legislation and criminal codes, which could be enforced through raw power, culture was not so simple. Furthermore, there was a disturbing trend amongst the Sorcerous Kingdom’s subjects that did not bode well for its cultural development.

The problem was delivered via two major vectors. First was the fact that the vast majority of the Sorcerous Kingdom’s citizens came from a life of subsistence, which included direct competition over resources. That life had come to an abrupt end with the unprecedented agricultural output and absolute power brought about with the advent of the new state.

For the most part, the general opinion of life in the Sorcerous Kingdom was an amalgamation of ‘we aren’t starving’, ‘no one is trying to eat us’ and ‘nothing will threaten our lives’. The seemingly idyllic conditions were hardly anything to complain about, but it presented a point that was first brought up with her by Moren Boer nearly a year previous. They had everything they needed, but they did not have what they needed for when they had everything they needed.

Back then, it was in reference to the proposal that he made on behalf of his colleagues in Zurrernorn, but Ludmila thought it was a good way to consider the future in general. As with Humans, one could not simply expect a member of any race to be content just because they were no longer struggling to survive.

This reality had not hit the Sorcerous Kingdom yet because the majority of its citizens were just starting to digest their new circumstances. The initial sentiment was security was all that mattered, but they would soon discover that this was not the case. With the time that they had, Ludmila and several others were attempting to preempt the problem or at least facilitate what would come next.

Except it was an unbelievably complex problem to approach. If one asked a member from each race dwelling in the Sorcerous Kingdom what was ‘good’ or ‘desirable’ or even ‘entertaining’, one would receive just as many answers. There was no single, convenient solution. Both Ludmila and Florine asserted that the solution did not even come from a single source: a piece of the answer had to be provided by each race and culture.

At its core, however, was the idea that it needed to serve as a unifying force for every citizen of the Sorcerous Kingdom. One that went beyond basic needs or absolute power. This in turn led to the idea of a national spirit in the form of shared values and central ideologies.

Even a novice in politics understood that the vast majority of people did not follow a sense of shared values and ideologies, but what represented those values and ideologies to them. People did not follow a cause – they followed the embodiment of that cause. In the Sorcerous Kingdom, the ultimate embodiment of that cause was the Sorcerer King.

Following leaders was natural to most of what Ludmila termed ‘social races’ and also applied to beings capable of understanding social constructs. This led to the second vector through which the ongoing problem was being delivered: few understood what was embodied by the Sorcerer King beyond the idea that his power ensured their survival and enforced order.

In short, the Sorcerous Kingdom was a colossal mass of unrealised and undirected potential. This was more than a bit disturbing since it meant they could end up going in any direction and that direction would herald unsolicited precedents for the nation’s character.

The first step to ensuring that the Sorcerous Kingdom’s character didn’t blow around like a leaf in the wind was finding common points to anchor it to. To Ludmila, one of the major and obvious cornerstones were the Sorcerer King’s vassals and servitors. Their unfailing, undying devotion to the Sorcerer King could serve as a guidepost for the citizenry.

Before it could be used as such, however, connections to the citizenry had to be made. As with Lady Shalltear’s Vampire Brides, they were issued instructions but often struggled to carry them out in ways that required a certain level of understanding. A wider sense of cause and effect was entirely absent in a newly-created Undead servitor; tangible and intangible collateral damage occurred as a result.

To solve this, Ludmila decided to use the empathy inherent to all Undead servitors as one of the starting points for cultural development. This was not the empathy of Humans or even living things, of course, but empathy tied to their sense of devotion to the Sorcerer King.

For instance, if a Death Knight damaged a Farmer’s property while fulfilling some other duty, the Farmer might complain about a loss of livelihood. This complaint would not get the Farmer anywhere. The Death Knight would not care and the local Undead administrator would simply advise them to repair or replace their losses. No reparations or apologies would be made unless they were prescribed, and those would simply be carried out as a cold and sterile procedure.

An effective appeal framed the event in terms of how it affected one’s contribution to the Sorcerer King’s nation. The results would then become horrifying to the Death Knight because damage to the Farmer’s livelihood led to a loss of productivity. That loss of productivity led to a loss in tax revenues and was ultimately detrimental to the Sorcerous Kingdom. Ensuring that the Death-series servitors understood how the activities of the citizenry fulfilled the wishes of their master ensured that they did nothing to alienate the citizenry and instead be embraced by its communities.

These associations also cultivated a form of respect. Those who served the Sorcerer King were admirable people; it was just a matter of knowing in what capacity they served so that all might better serve His Majesty as a whole.

It was this concept that she thought would serve as a powerful anchor for the culture that developed in the Sorcerous Kingdom and thus the character of its people. The Sorcerer King desired a nation that served as a beacon of harmony and prosperity for all the world to see – His Majesty would be the embodiment of the ideals and values that went into such a nation: the cause that every citizen of the Sorcerous Kingdom ultimately served.

The tread of bony feet sounded through the mist before a set of the Royal Army’s Elder Liches came into view. Behind them was a column of Red Skeleton Warriors. They stopped their patrol in front of her, offering a salute.

“Good evening,” Ludmila returned their salute.

“Good evening, Lady Zahradnik,” the Elder Lich in the lead said.

“Any luck?” She asked.

“Unfortunately not,” the Elder Lich answered with a sigh. “Of the Undead observed to spawn in the city, Skeletal Dragons are the rarest amongst mindless Undead.”

Since the expansion of the Sorcerous Kingdom’s borders over the Katze Plains, the Elder Liches of the Royal Army had enacted a practice that they called ‘spawn camping’. The negative energy wasteland manifested a variety of Undead beings and the Elder Liches systematically patrolled the region in search of rare and useful ones.

“So much for convenient flying mounts,” Ludmila smirked. “How goes the rest of our ‘harvest’?”

“As ordered, we have divided our forces into the contingents you have prescribed. If you have come, does that mean our operation will begin soon?”

“Countess Corelyn will be meeting with Prime Minister Albedo in the morning,” Ludmila replied. “The situation has developed more rapidly than expected, so I expect that we will be authorised to begin within the day. How are things looking on the border?”

“At last report,” the Elder Lich replied, “little of note has occurred. The frontier along the Draconic Kingdom border has shown no signs of activity and those sent to monitor the Katze River Delta have not seen traffic or any signs of crossing to or from the Slane Theocracy. Patrols from Altamura similarly show no alterations in their schedule.”

Ludmila crossed her arms, frowning as the Elder Lich relayed what it knew. She thought it unlikely that the Slane Theocracy wouldn’t move if it knew what was going on. Even if the head of state was of draconic ancestry, the Draconic Kingdom had a Human population somewhere in the vicinity of seven million. To suddenly lapse in its centuries-long vigil protecting humanity in the region would be extraordinarily odd.

She understood that the war with the Elf Kingdom might be placing strain on the Theocracy’s military resources, but the Scriptures could still be dispatched to turn the tide in the Draconic Kingdom without needing to divert the army from their war effort.

What she was left with was the notion that the Beastman Kingdom was preventing any information from escaping while they secured the Draconic Kingdom. At the same time, she wasn’t sure how that was possible. It was unlikely that the Draconic Kingdom had an utter lack of magic casters.

Like every Human country aside from the Slane Theocracy, the Adventurer Guild operated within the Draconic Kingdom. All they had to do was pay an Adventurer caster to send a Message spell. Alternatively, since Message was considered untrustworthy, they could have someone fly over. The Draconic Kingdom should have temples of various faiths as well and they would surely be calling for help if the worst had come to pass.

“If you were to interdict an entire country,” Ludmila asked the Elder Liches, “how would you do it?”

The Elder Liches exchanged glances with one another. After several moments, the patrol leader spoke again.

“Unless the country is one-quarter the size of the Duchy of E-Rantel,” it said, “there is no practical way to maintain a blockade with the methods currently available to the Royal Army.”

“Is there any way to stop Message spells?”

“Not that we know of. However, one must be familiar with the recipient of a Message spell to contact them.”

They couldn’t be that insular, could they? As a former subject of Re-Estize, she probably didn’t have any right to be critical of another nation’s level of magical integration, but even Re-Estize had a handful of people in every city capable of magical communication.

“How could it have become like that?” Ludmila muttered.

“If I may ask, my lady, what is the situation in the Draconic Kingdom?”

“They’re almost entirely overrun,” Ludmila replied. “Our strategic objectives haven’t changed, but we’re going to be fighting a very different war than I expected.”

“This may be presumptuous,” the Elder Lich said, “but I do not believe defeat is possible with the assembled forces.”

“Perhaps not, but how we win is what is important here. We have a reputation to build. As far as the southeastern theatre is concerned, that reputation needs to be a good one. Have the others assemble south of the city.”

“At once, my lady.”

The Elder Liches saluted once more before continuing on their way and turning south at the nearest corner. Ludmila activated her hairpin and flew up between the tall spires of Lagaš. She idly watched the now-pristine limestone buildings go by below as she mulled over how she could approach their strategic issues.

With the majority of the Draconic Kingdom under Beastman occupation, the initial assumption that they would be fighting to break an enemy army’s advance and pushing them back out was no longer valid. Assuming every population centre had become a ‘farm’, her counteroffensive would now consist of thousands of smaller battles to root out the Beastmen and liberate the Draconic Kingdom’s territories.

The Draconic Kingdom had been treated as a hunting preserve for all these years. With recent developments, its citizens had been turned into livestock. Now, the question was what would happen once the Sorcerous Kingdom’s forces entered the fray.

She had a sense that the Beastmen would first react by trying to defend their newly-acquired territory. They had gone through the effort of keeping everything intact and getting their new agricultural operations going, after all. The question was what the Draconic Kingdom’s citizens would do.

Once things started to go poorly for the Beastmen, would Humans go from literal fodder to battle fodder? Would they fight alongside the Beastmen in common cause against the Undead? If the Beastmen abandoned their holdings, would the Humans be taken with them? They might even beg to be brought along – many strange superstitions revolved around the Undead, such as having one’s soul stolen, so living as livestock was a preferable fate.

The captives might cooperate with their captors to fight against or escape from their liberators…

It was an utterly ridiculous scenario from Ludmila’s end, but entirely plausible. She couldn’t think of a way to prevent it from happening without also risking retaliation against the captive citizens. Perhaps the solution would come to her once she had more information.

Ludmila flew past the southern outskirts of the city, descending closer to the ground. The environment made it impossible to see more than a few dozen metres, but she imagined it would be difficult to miss the Royal Army’s forces. After flying for another kilometre, orderly ranks of Undead became visible in the mist.

She skimmed over them, looking for the head of the formation. After a minute or so, she found the front ranks, which were composed of Death-series servitors. Landing in front of a lone Elder Lich standing in front of the army, she exchanged a salute.

“Baroness Zahradnik,” the Elder Lich said. “This one is known as Saiko. I have been assigned to serve as your adjutant for the duration of this campaign.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Saiko,” Ludmila replied. “How are we looking?”

“Our exercises have found no issues with control, though many of the companies are as flimsy as one would expect. Each Elder Lich has procured their domination limit in locally-sourced Undead.”

“Were they able to find enough of the ones I wanted?”

“Yes, my lady,” the Elder Lich nodded. “Over the past few months, we have secured four hundred Red Skeleton Warriors, two thousand Skeleton Warriors, two hundred Blood Meat Hulks, four hundred Bone Vultures, four hundred Skeleton Mages, two thousand assorted Undead Beasts, six hundred Ghasts, one thousand Wraiths, two thousand Ghouls, one thousand Wights and ten thousand low-level Skeletons and Zombies.”

A total of twenty thousand Undead for one hundred Red Counterfeiters, which were level thirty-five Elder Liches. With the exception of Death Knights, created Undead could not create additional permanent Undead even if their naturally-spawned counterparts could. What they could do was use their Undead Domination Skills. There were level limits and numerical limits, but Red Skeleton Warriors – the strongest of the Undead collected – were well within the level limit.

There were proposals to employ dominated Undead in the Sorcerous Kingdom’s industries, but if an Elder Lich somehow died or otherwise lost control of them, a massacre would result. They would also have to be cautious that it didn’t happen while they were using dominated Undead forces in the Draconic Kingdom.

“What about our reserves?”

“They are increasingly infrequent the higher the level. Everything below Skeleton Warriors is effectively unlimited. There are less than one hundred Red Skeleton Warriors in reserve.”

“Did the experiments with Undead density produce any notable results?”

“Unfortunately not,” Saiko replied. “The Undead we’ve gathered were collected into these ranks over a small area, but the spawning patterns remain unchanged.”

It appeared that there was a flaw in the common idea that the accumulation of Undead led to the appearance of stronger Undead. Proof required further investigation, but Ludmila felt that what the Sorcerer King had shared with her was the actual truth. The ‘natural’ accumulation of negative energy and the resulting Undead led to a progression that reflected what had previously occupied the area. Furthermore, once that accumulation reached the limit of the local ‘theme’, an advanced negative energy ecology manifested, which introduced a chance of producing exotic Undead.

“Are our regular army squads ready as well?”

“Yes, my lady. Two cavalry squads and one infantry company await your command.”

“Good,” Ludmila nodded. “Then let’s get into position.”