V3Ch104-No Rest

“There’s no rest in store for any of us,” Tybalt said, looking his war council members eye to eye, one at a time. “Not right now. We have to move on to the capital.”

It was the next morning, but there was no time to delay planning the Grand Beastfolk Army’s next moves.

All of the necromancer’s wives were there, of course, and the Beastkings, key beastfolk officers, and Aoife. The main additions were the three top surviving officers from the high elf contingent that had fought for Tybalt in the Battle of the Charnel Fortress. They had earned their position as close advisors after the high elves’ impressive showing in the battle itself. And there was Samara, of course, the only one there who looked like she wasn’t certain of her place.

“Some of you will already know about all of the various predictions and visions of the future we’ve been relying on to steer our war effort,” Tybalt began.

The necromancer quickly went over the status quo, from the lamia’s prediction that he and the others had now fully fulfilled, to Vidalia’s latest dreams, to the cryptic ramblings of the spirits he had consulted - though he was a little vague on the sources of his intelligence.

He didn’t want anyone to know he was getting most of his mystical advice from women who were in some state of undress or sexual intercourse with him. More than that, Vidalia wanted to maintain some level of mystery around how her own powers worked.

“Your Majesty, if I may,” said Commander Shalott.

“You may,” the necromancer replied, smiling genially. Shalott had distinguished himself in the battle, based on the reports of the beastfolk who had witnessed his deeds once events spilled out into the desert. The necromancer would take him as seriously as those contributions merited.

“I know we must move on the capital quickly, as your, er, insight into the future emphasizes.”

Tybalt nodded.

“But what are we going to do with all of these prisoners?” the high elf asked a little nervously. “Will you, er, perform your arts on them?”

Tybalt had to hide his slight amusement at the man’s discomfort. Colin had seemingly killed two birds with one stone in selecting those he sent to Tybalt in fulfillment of his obligation. On the one hand, the High Elf King was keeping his word by sending real and valuable support. On the other, he was also clearly disposing of some of those among his officer corps who were less comfortable with the undead. That might be of long term benefit to Colin and theoretically could hamper Tybalt.

But the necromancer had a feeling it wouldn’t be an issue.

“I promised Hailgrim that they would be treated with the honor due to prisoners of war,” he replied in an even tone. “Please understand, as a sovereign, I do not break my word lightly.”

“Of course, I didn’t mean to—”

“I’m sending them to Whadesgart, under guard of some of my highest level undead,” Tybalt continued. “That should be enough to prevent the remnants of Caracalla’s army from escaping, and with my powers, I can summon the undead back after the prisoners are safely delivered and placed under house arrest by the Mayor. I’ll keep back Mischa, the swamp mage. As Samara, my paladin, informs me, she and Black Hailgrim are close companions. She will be an excellent hostage for his good behavior. And she could be useful in other respects.”

Samara’s eyes widened, and Tybalt realized the paladin had some misapprehension about what he’d just said.

Not useful in that way, the necromancer thought. I already have my work cut out for me, keeping up with the women I’m actually in relationships with. I can’t start randomly seducing every attractive woman who happens to be in my presence.

He had other plans for Mischa.

Mariella started talking next, either not having picked up on whatever Samara was thinking or simply not concerned about it.

“The greatest challenge I can see ahead of us is the remaining stretch of desert,” she said. She crouched and, with the tip of one finger, began drawing a crude map of the territory separating the former site of Fort Hadrian and Enh. “Not all of our troops are undead, and I understand that the barbaric horde of ogres we’ve sent ahead of us will have left nothing but scorched earth behind them.” She spoke the last words with a sigh of resignation. “I don’t know how we can keep an army this size supplied with food and water.” She finished the drawing and stood back up, her large pregnancy bump wobbling slightly as she rose.

“Your Majesty, the high elves are highly competent in engineering projects,” said one of the other officers, Commander Loren. He puffed out his chest with pride as he continued, “A squad of our finest engineers will reroute a river for you to water your army. If Queen Dero teleports them ahead of the rest and gives them a few days, the water problem will be easily solved.”

“The majority of your force is undead, anyway,” Victoria said confidently. “Can’t Whadesgart supply the rest of the food we need? It’s only a day away from here.”

“It can, for a time,” Tybalt said. “But the further we march, the more stretched out our supply lines will be.”

“There’s no choice about that, probably, until we find some alternative,” Mariella said, frowning as she considered the problem.

“Might I suggest something, Tybalt?”

Of all those gathered around, the necromancer was somehow surprised to hear from Aoife.

“Please,” he said.

“I recall that when I flew across the sea to get here, the coastline of Niet was quite long. Is it, perhaps, possible to march close to the sea through much of the route to the capital?” She looked a little nervous. “That is, couldn’t some of the men fish for the rest of your army each day? Lighter supplies could be harvested or transported via the supply route Mariella suggested, but the protein that tends to spoil across long distances and weigh more could be taken more directly from the ocean.” She blinked and waited for the others to give their input.

“Great idea, Aoife,” Kistana said instantly, beaming.

“It should work geographically,” said Liora a moment later. “And my father could also ship some supplies in if we remain close to the coast. We maintain a small merchant fleet… and it would also give him the opportunity to give you the additional troops he promised, husband.” The last words were spoken softly, with the vampire’s eyes downcast, but Tybalt and Dero exchanged a quick look. The high elf officers shot each other more uncomfortable glances, noticing the same thing the necromancer and the dark elf had. This was the first sign of Liora taking sides in any kind of dispute between her husband and her father since the marriage, and she already seemed to be on Tybalt’s side.

“That seems to settle it,” the necromancer said, smiling.

They moved on to other issues.

Then Tybalt’s subordinates began putting the plan into action.

***

As the Grand Beastfolk Army marched on, a squad of elves worked to reroute a river, and hundreds of soldiers devoted their days to fishing, Tybalt worked on projects of his own.

“Are these truly necessary, necromancer?” asked Mischa the swamp mage, frowning down at the shackles she wore. “Did Samara not vouch for me?”

Former Beastking Ethelstan glared at her.

“This is your king, ungrateful—”

“I deeply appreciate your willing assistance, Mischa,” Tybalt said evenly, cutting Ethelstan off. “It will make it much easier to trust you in the future and eventually let you go. And Samara did vouch for you. But at the same time, it’s best not to strain a new relationship by leaning too heavily on trust. You and I don’t have that established trust now, and the chains help me to know that I don’t need to watch you at all times while you work. Once you prove you’re as good as Samara’s words about you, you will earn your freedom.”

She sighed. “Very well. I suppose, the sooner I perform this task you asked of me, the sooner you’ll know that you can trust me?”

The necromancer nodded, and she shook her head. Mana gathered around Mischa’s hands, a large quantity comparable to what she had been throwing around in the battle before. Then it rushed out and struck the base of the mountain.

It was just a corner of it, but in an instant, Mischa’s power had turned a large chunk of the base of the mountain to sludge.

Ethelstan executed his part of the plan next. His Pillars of Earth, emerging from deeper within the mountain, pushed the softened soil out of the way.

The larger structure of the mountain shook, and then a part of it collapsed.

Tybalt had to grab the other two and quickly Teleport to the opposite end of the mountain. It was a relatively short distance, but still annoying just because of how much mana the swamp mage had.

“We’ll do it a little more carefully now that we’ve proved it sort of works,” the necromancer observed as he listened to the sounds of rocks still falling from the avalanche taking place on the other side. “Move smaller chunks at a time. But I think that you can get the mountain out of the way before our army reaches Enh. Ethelstan, you’ll take your part in turns with Edgard and Alfred. Mischa—” He grinned and placed a hand on one of her shoulders—“we’re expecting a lot out of you. This excavation depends on your magic.”

“Right,” the swamp mage said, deflating visibly. “It’s thanks to me that you’ll have access to a dragon’s corpse.”

“It’s thanks to you that I have a reason to treat Hailgrim and my other prisoners from the Kingdom so well,” Tybalt replied gently. “And to not destroy the Hero. Just remind yourself of that, anytime you feel like you’re betraying something. You’re not a traitor. You’re being loyal to the people who really matter to you.”

She wrinkled her nose at his words but nodded.

“Let’s begin, then,” Mischa said.

***

Tybalt stepped away from Mariella, both of them breathing heavily, his seed leaking out of her already.

“That was nice,” the fire mage said. Her legs were shaking pleasantly.

He nodded. “I always enjoy our quality time together.” He turned to Vidalia, who lay beside Mariella. “But I also hope that Vidalia is correct. The others are starting to get jealous that I've been spending every night with you two the last few days.”

The foxgirl shrugged. “I just told you what the best available advice from wise old wives would suggest.”

“Translation: it’s your fault for believing it,” Mariella said, chuckling. “Come back over here.”

Tybalt lay down between the two women, and they both pressed themselves against him and gave him a very pleasant good night kiss, pressing their mouths against his neck, his lips, each other’s mouths, working their way down his shoulders.

It was almost like they wanted another round.

But that couldn’t be. The last couple of weeks, they had spent a lot of time talking about how tired they were, how sore, how close they must be to giving birth.

That was the rationale for why they were getting extra time with the necromancer.

Supposedly, intimacy could help bring on labor more quickly.

Tybalt was skeptical. He suspected this “wisdom” from old wives was just a bunch of lusty women conspiring to obtain more attention at a stage in their marriages when they didn’t feel as attractive.

He wasn’t complaining, though. Not as Mariella’s fingers stroked his manhood back to life, nor even as Vidalia began grinding her hot, wet opening against his leg.

A second time was almost certainly not necessary even by the standards of the old wives.

But he would rise to the occasion.

***

Tybalt was working on his other project, besides moving a mountain, the next morning.

He had returned to the Valley of Martyrs, accompanied only by former Beastking Rufus of the line of huntsmasters. The necromancer was visiting this place every day, despite the fact that teleporting all the way back there was energy intensive, because after raising the dead from the Battle of the Charnel Fortress, this was his only good source of additional dead bodies.

He was working toward the goal of raising all of the mummies in the Valley, though he knew that would take more time than he actually had.

Even with his increased efficiency and mana reserves from practice and levels, he was limited to around a hundred mummies per day, in part because he had started with the more important ones. Royal family members who had never sat on the throne for one reason or another, great warriors, anyone who might give his army a little more of an edge against the Kingdom.

He was giving his standard instructions to a warrior called Vuk when a voice filled his mind.

“Your majesty, it’s about your wives,” said Robert, one of the huntsmaster line of Beastkings. The one Tybalt had left protecting Mariella and Vidalia.

“What is it, Robert?” Tybalt asked. He kept his inner voice calm. Robert had sounded calm. Whatever the news was, it was probably fine.

“Both Queen Mariella and Queen Vidalia report they have entered labor.”

The necromancer’s heart skipped a beat.

Both of them?! Well, we did everything possible to bring it on. And even if we hadn’t, it’s time… Still, it feels too soon. I mean, they’ve been pregnant for months, this isn’t premature, it’s just… I don’t know if I’m ready. I have to be, but…

He shook his head. He didn’t have time for this.

“I’m on my way.”