Chapter 341: Wasted Corspes

Darion and Marrick left the burning grounds behind, the heat of the funeral pyre still lingering on their clothes and in their lungs. The warriors remained behind, kneeling in the dirt, watching the flames consume the bodies of their fallen comrades. The crackle of the fire slowly faded as Darion put distance between himself and the open ground.

He walked several steps before suddenly stopping dead in his tracks.

He looked back toward the burning corpses.

A thought hit him like a physical blow.

’I could have used them.’

Darion’s expression changed as he realized exactly what he had just done. The system’s rule had always been clear: he couldn’t revive people who weren’t under his command or serving beneath him. Those dead warriors had belonged to Vrethka. They had fought for Dross. They had died as enemies.

But now?

Vrethka belonged to him. They had already acknowledged his rule. They had dropped their weapons. They had knelt. They had accepted him as their new lord. Which meant, technically, those warriors fell under his authority before they died. They were his subjects, even if only for a few minutes.

Darion stared back at the roaring pyre. ’Damn it.’

He mentally calculated how many corpses he had just allowed to go to waste. Hundreds of them. Five hundred and five, to be exact. Most were trained warriors. Even if not all of them could have become useful undead, there was an enormous amount of potential sitting right there.

His knight inventory was currently at 143. He was still short by more than a hundred corpses from being filled. Those bodies could have pushed him significantly closer to his maximum capacity of 250. He had just watched a literal fortune in necromantic material burn to ash.

"What a waste of effort," Darion sighed, running a hand down his face.

Marrick noticed his strange expression, the way the new lord was glaring at the fire as if it had personally offended him, but he didn’t dare ask immediately. He just stood there awkwardly, waiting.

Darion considered whether there was anything he could do about it now. Unfortunately, the bodies were already burning. The fuel had been poured, the fire was roaring, and the people had gathered for the funeral. There was no point trying to stop it now. Doing so would be a massive sign of disrespect that would undo every bit of the goodwill his speech had just built.

He eventually let out another sigh. ’Well... I’ll probably visit their graveyard or something.’

The thought gave him a possible future solution. If the dead were eventually buried together in a mass grave, or if their ashes were interred somewhere, he could return later.

He didn’t know exactly how the system would treat them after cremation and burial, but it was worth checking.

But meh, what would he use ashes for? And since Vrethka burnt their there won’t exactly be a graveyard?

At the very least, he now knew something incredibly important for the future: conquering territory also meant gaining access to the dead who once fought there. He just needed to remember to claim them before lighting the match.

As Darion continued walking, another thought entered his mind. He glanced around Vrethka. The settlement had just survived a brutal battle. Dross was dead. Hundreds of warriors were dead. The surviving warriors had accepted Darion’s rule, but the new order was still extremely fragile.

More importantly, Darion remembered the map he found earlier. The mark connected to the Kulidii still bothered him. Vrethka had been preparing to seek out the mysterious being because its magic could neutralize Necromancer abilities. Darion had stopped them before they could do it, but he had no idea whether someone might still attempt to contact the Kulidii now.

He looked toward the settlement. ’What if someone goes looking for it while I’m gone for Harrowhold with Marrick?’ The thought made him pause. Leaving Vrethka unattended wasn’t exactly ideal.

But he also had another problem: Harrowhold. Marrick was supposed to become king there. And the longer they waited, the more time the current governors and officials had to realize what happened in Vrethka. If Darion allowed them to prepare, they could gather soldiers, barricade the castle, or even flee with important resources.

Darion wanted the transition to happen before anyone had time to organize serious resistance. He decided he couldn’t afford to wait.

Darion turned toward one of the surviving warriors, the seemingly highest-ranking battle warrior still present. The warrior immediately straightened, his posture rigid. "My lord?"

Darion told him he’d be leaving for a short while. "I’ll be back very soon."

The warrior bowed deeply. "We will await your return, my lord."

Darion gave him a final look before heading toward the stables. He didn’t bother making a huge speech or explaining every detail. The man seemed capable enough to keep the warriors organized while Darion was gone.

Darion chose one of the fastest horses available in Vrethka. He didn’t need a full escort. His undead could be summoned whenever necessary, and speed mattered more right now. He grabbed a water flask before mounting.

Marrick stood nearby, looking somewhat confused. Darion gestured behind him. "Get on."

Marrick hesitated. "...With you?"

Darion looked at him, deadpan. "Unless you know how to fly."

Marrick quickly climbed onto the horse behind him. The moment Marrick settled in, Darion kicked the horse forward. "Hyah!"

The horse launched into motion. Marrick nearly lost his balance immediately. He instinctively reached out, then stopped himself. His hands hovered awkwardly in the air. He wanted to grab Darion for support. But then he remembered exactly who Darion was.

The man who had just conquered Vrethka. The Necromancer who commanded hundreds of undead. The man who had killed Dross and Caef without hesitation.

Marrick swallowed hard. ’I can’t just grab him.’

Another bump nearly threw him from the saddle. Marrick hurriedly shifted closer but still refused to properly hold Darion.

Darion noticed the awkward movement from behind him. "If you fall, I’m not going back for you."

Marrick immediately straightened. "I won’t fall, my lord."

Darion smirked slightly. "Good."

The horse accelerated. Wind tore past them as Vrethka rapidly disappeared behind them. Darion kept his eyes fixed ahead. His thoughts were already on the next objective. Harrowhold.

He wasn’t planning to spend days negotiating with governors who may not even accept Marrick. Marrick was the rightful king in Darion’s eyes, and Darion intended to put him on that throne as quickly as possible. If resistance appeared, Darion would deal with it. If the governors surrendered, even better. Either way, Harrowhold was about to experience a change in leadership.

Darion tightened his grip on the reins and pushed the horse faster. "We’re taking Harrowhold."

Marrick said nothing. He simply held on as tightly as he could without actually grabbing Darion. In the distance, the road stretched toward Harrowhold. And Darion had no intention of slowing down.