17. Necromancer
"Yes, it seems the royal decree has finally arrived."
"Indeed, my lord Count. Here it is."
"Good. Now get out."
In the count's office, Soboro Baekjak took the bundle of papers from his subordinate knight. The herald delivering the decree bowed deeply at the count's command and promptly left the room.
"Let's see..."
Opening it up revealed pages densely packed with text. Stripping away the flowery rhetoric, the core content boiled down to this:
The lands of Soboro Territory, currently divided roughly equally between Count Soboro Baekjak and Lady Behena, shall be formally granted as follows:
— Each party retains half of the territory they currently hold as their sovereign domain.
— Count Soboro Baekjak shall retain his title of Count.
— Lady Behena shall be elevated to the inheritable rank of Viscountess.
"Hmmm..."
But the count scowled in irritation as he read it, clearly displeased. And rightly so. This civil war had been his victory from the start. He'd backed Behena to the brink. Capturing her would have ended it all. He was moments away from seizing that cute, insolent niece of his and breaking her into his personal sex slave.
Yet it had all evaporated like a midsummer night's dream, mocking him. Just when victory was in hand, Ian and his party appeared out of nowhere. Those women ruined everything. Where the hell had he found such monsters? War machines in their own right, their few clashes had utterly reversed the tide.
And now, even with Ian—their glaring weakness—kidnapped and in custody, he had to grovel like this, negotiating under their watchful eyes. From the count's perspective, how could he not be pissed?
"Goddamn it..."
"Why the long face again, my lord Count? You look terrifying."
A soft feminine voice from the side. The count startled for a moment, then barked in disgust upon recognizing Carol.
"Goddamn it, Carol! I told you not to barge into my office using your magic!"
"Oh, come on, what's the big deal? So why the sour expression?"
"It's nothing. More importantly, is everything I asked for ready?"
He inquired about the preparations he'd requested earlier. Carol shrugged nonchalantly.
"Of course. It was nothing."
"...Good."
The count nodded. Recalling what he'd tasked her with, Carol probed further.
"So, care to explain now? Why'd you have me prep another Corpse Carnival? Isn't the war over? Or are we doing a zombie victory parade?"
"Hah, nonsense. Who said it's over?"
The count snorted arrogantly, brimming with confidence. Carol tilted her head skeptically. The enemy had three overwhelming Platinum-rank adventurers. On their side, only Regina could even match them—and barely. Including herself, they might stall for time, but winning? No chance, even one-on-one.
Regina takes one. She takes one. That leaves one untouched. A total mismatch. So what the hell was the count thinking?
"Then what? You gonna tell me? Our clan's not sending more necromancers. I'll bail if it gets dicey."
"Don't worry. I've got it all figured out."
Heh heh heh... The count's lecherous laughter filled the room. It was almost time. Things had been infuriating so far, but soon they'd change.
'That insolent Behena bitch, of course...'
He pictured the women from Ian's party, locked in the tower. Annoying as hell, but their beauty was top-tier.
"Kuh huh huh..."
Carol shook her head at the sound.
"Yeah, yeah, have your fun."
Late morning. My only tasks till noon were breakfast and sleep, so I slept in long enough to feel utterly refreshed—no fatigue left at all. Not that two weeks of this had built any up anyway.
The small window let in scant light, and the weather was mild—not too cold, not too hot. Aside from the dry air making my throat scratchy, it was perfect. Well, that was easy enough to fix... just spritz water around before bed. Around when Regina's "visits" wrapped up at dawn.
What time was it?
"No clue..."
No clock in the room. I could only guess roughly by feel.
"Sigh. Time for food."
Stretching, I sat up on the bed's edge and eyed the table in the corner. Stale soup, three or four hunks of bread, and a salt-cured ham chunk about the size of my fist.
"Yaaawn."
Yawning wide, I grabbed the nearby knife and fork like a pro, slicing into the ham first.
"What do they call this ham again...?"
Salami or something? Nah, salami. Wait, but am I not a kidnapping victim here? They cool giving me a blade?
I pondered briefly, then shrugged it off. Without mana, what threat was a butter knife? Sure, if I had mana maybe, but no mana means it's useless. Might nick skin if I pressed hard, but nothing serious.
"Tch."
Slicing ham, I tore bread by hand, stuffing the gap. Grabbed the soup bowl and slurped it down. Spoon was there, but too much hassle for cold slop.
"Tch, soup's bland again today."
Probably to balance the salty ham. Quick sandwich assembled—bread, ham, bite. Salty meaty savor mixed with rye's tangy nuttiness. Devoured the lot, then chucked the dishes aside and... didn't flop back into bed. Sat in the chair for some meditation-lite.
No books, not even scrap paper. Only option: bodyweight exercises. Wanted to dive in, but post-meal workouts aren't smart. Just digesting for now.
"So goddamn boring."
My go-to phrase since arriving. Once digestion hit, light stretches into full routine: 100 push-ups, 100 sit-ups, 100 squats. No running—skipped. My bald-guy workout special, customized.
That's when—
Thud thud. Door knock, then creak as it opened. Two knights stood there.
"Come out."
"Huh? What? Communication time already?"
No, still early. Routine half-done. Comm time was post-workout, with wait time. Even sleeping in, it wasn't time yet.
"Last night, the royal decree arrived."
"Huh? So then..."
"Yes. People have come to fetch you."
The knight's curt nod. Whatever—my chest swelled with excitement. Release day! This hellish boredom-fest was finally over!
"Fuck yeah! Lead the way—hurry!"
"...Follow."
They shot me baffled looks at my urging but led on. I bounced after them eagerly. Soon I'd see Cheong-ah, Bella, Dina in the flesh. Crystal ball chats barely cut it—god, I'd missed them. Sleepless nights fantasizing. First thing: kiss 'em senseless.
Entrance hall. There—familiar trio. Red Evil mercs, Behena, her soldiers around, but who cared? Only Cheong-ah, Bella, Dina in my eyes.
God, I'd missed them...!
"Darling!"
"Husband!"
"Yeonja!"
Spotting me, they beamed. My grin split ear-to-ear.
"Cheong-ah! Bella! Dina!"
I shoved past the knights flanking ahead, arms wide, charging. They rushed me, faces lit with joy—that's when—
"D-Darling...! Behind you!"
"Eh?"
Cheong-ah's startled cry. Shraaaash...!
Blazing pain scorched my back. I tumbled forward, rolling.
"Urk...!"
What the fuck?! One of the escort knights who'd just led me—sword drawn, dripping thick red blood.
...My blood.
"You fucking bastards...!"
Bella's furious roar.
"I shan't let you escape!"
Dina's thudding footsteps closed fast. Then—
Rooooar...!
Massive cheers as soldiers and knights swarmed, encircling Behena and the Red Evils. Even a toddler could see it.
A trap. We'd walked right in.