The Necromancer

Epilogue

One Year Later

Accompanied by my council of advisors, I sat across the table from Lord Dervoth and read over the parchment with his request again. Half a dozen wagons of food aid to replenish the stores of his capital, seven of my Necromancer subjects to revive the blighted crops in his fields,  and a lease on four thousand undead workers to till his crops and work his mines until the population recovered. And last but not least, he asked that his son be considered for the annual revival ceremony. That was really the only sticking point; the list was getting pretty damn long. But we could surely find room to squeeze in one more.

"Before we start, Lord Dervoth, can I offer you some refreshment?"

He gave a nervous smile. "I... that would be nice, thank you."

"Can I offer you water? Perhaps wine? No, wait!" Before he could answer, I broke out in a grin and rang the little bell on the edge of the table. "I have a special treat, sent by a dear friend in Bermatora." I turned towards the door, behind which a servant should be preparing a pitcher. "Bring the peach juice!"

Amcerlizar's corpse bustled in, carrying the gleaming silver pitcher and five clean glasses. He wore a frilly pink dress that Professor Magdat had graciously given him; his robes were a bit too... bloodstained to keep around anymore. Lord Dervoth seemed both shocked and amused to see his nation's former tormentor now serving drinks, and dressed like a little girl. Amcerlizar set glasses on the table in front of me, Bess (my cleric advisor), Lamneras (my Treasury Minister), and Professor Magdat (she didn't have a formal role, but advised me on everything) and then poured the bright yellowish liquid into each one. I sipped mine and gave a refreshed sigh while Amcerlizar brought the final glass around to Lord Dervoth and filled it for him.

"Thank you, Amcerlizar. That will be all."

"Yes, Master," he grumbled back. I had at least succeeded in making him use that disgruntled tone; the same tone that I imagined a living Amcerlizar would use if he was forced to wait on me hand and foot every day. This was probably my favorite perk of being the Undead Heir. 

"Now!" I sipped at the delicious juice and smacked my lips. "Where were we, Lord Dervoth?" 

Bess nudged the paper in front of me. "The offer, Winston?"

Lord Dervoth cleared his throat. "I understand it's a lot to ask, your Grace." It took a moment to remember that he was referring to me. I insisted that everyone around the Palace simply refer to me as 'Winston' and not all of those silly titles that Amcerlizar had insisted on heaping upon himself. I even tried to train the minions to not call me 'Master,' though that effort failed spectacularly. Even after a year as the Undead Heir, I still wasn't used to all of the pomp and circumstance of ruling half a continent (though I had given back much of what Amcerlizar conquered).

"No, no," I told him as I slid the paper back. "Really no trouble."

"This is a fairly standard request,"  Professor Magdat reassured him with her dazzling smile. After all of the devastation of Amcerlizar's wars, there was plenty of suffering to go around in the neighboring kingdoms. Part of my treaty with the Paladins required me to make amends to my neighbors, though I would have done that regardless. I had no desire for endless war, and I'd found a better way of life anyway.

It turns out that the old adage is true: you catch a lot more flies with honey than vinegar. Instead of trying to conquer neighbors for no real reason, I'd instead started leasing out minions for various tasks. They're not particularly bright, but my time in that Defarlas crypt taught me that they can certainly swing an ax or use a shovel or harvest crops. The few living subjects in my lands were quickly growing accustomed to a life of luxury while skeletons toiled away night and day. My capital was now a mecca for craftsmen, and the other kingdoms had started to take notice. Lord Dervoth was not the first of my neighbors to negotiate such a deal, and he certainly wouldn't be the last.