Tybalt felt it as the ancient corpse in front of him consumed his energy.

  That’s… a lot. You’re a thirsty one.

  It was nothing he couldn’t handle, but he hadn’t felt this way since he raised Hieron and Baldwin. Sweat beaded on his brow, and he started to breathe a little more heavily. What sort of undead was this going to be?

  The mana drain continued for longer than Tybalt remembered having ever experienced before, and he had to cover a yawn as it finally stopped.

  He opened his status in time to confirm that his mana had dipped by almost half before his power began to recover.

  All that in thirty seconds to a minute… Interesting. Even though I already have so much more mana than I started with? More than Mariella at this point, surely. This undead had better be strong. It might be the most expensive one I’ve ever created.

  I didn’t get a level from it this time, though. I’m going to miss that.

  A low growl rumbled from the bandaged body beneath Tybalt’s hands as the new undead began to stir. It was almost matched by a rumble from his stomach. He was suddenly hungry. The necromancer ignored that and rose from his crouched position, issuing silent orders as he moved.

  I am your master, and you are to obey me fully and never seek to do me any harm…

  He had his initial commands down to a science by this point.

  The figure rose to a sitting position, and Tybalt smiled. The crowd all around him let loose low murmurs.

  “Forgive me,” said Andric from just behind him. “I… I value Lord Necromancer perhaps as much as anyone here… with the possible exception of our seer. But what exactly was this test meant to prove? We knew he was a necromancer before he undertook to raise this body, and—”

  “You fail to understand the significance of the specific body he raised,” Elder Olaf replied dismissively. “This man was a Beastking. He is sworn never to move if not by the command of the one spoken of in prophecy. Curses are inscribed onto the inside of the bandages to the effect of that oath, using mystic runes, a powerful restriction. A normal necromancer would have failed. The body would lie there still, unaffected by his power. Yet look at the mummy now.”

  The bandaged undead that Tybalt had raised suddenly leaped up to its full height, slightly shorter than Tybalt but broad-shouldered and still taller than the average beastman. It raised both arms over its head in a gesture of defiant strength.

  Tybalt saw reddish mana swirl around the body. Like that catgirl.

  At close range, the power gave him an ominous feeling.

  But it’s under my control. It’s fine. He couldn’t sense even a trace of the kind of resistance that someone like Baldwin might wish to put up, and it wasn’t as if this thing was a vampire or a lich, the two strongest willed forms of undead. He couldn’t say why the power felt so dangerous.

  Tybalt resisted the urge to look over at Kistana. He wondered if she would recognize something of herself in this mummy. The appearance of their energy being identical couldn’t be a coincidence.

  “This man is the one spoken of in prophecy!” boomed Elder Olaf. “All hail the chosen of Lord Mudo! All hail the High Priest! All hail the future king!” The Elder fell to his knees and then kowtowed.

  An instant later, all of the other catfolk responded in kind.

  They knelt and groveled before Tybalt, leaving only the fox beastfolk, the harpy, and Mariella standing, the fire mage visibly confused.

  The necromancer felt a swell of pride that he didn’t feel he had fully earned.

  But it certainly wasn’t unpleasant. He stood up a little straighter. He had to at least be regal for these people.

  So this is why Vidalia didn’t bother giving me any hints, Tybalt thought. She knew I’d enjoy experiencing this for myself, with no warning. That girl is a bit scary in terms of how well she knows me. Or she didn’t check the details of this future too closely, because she knew things would work out one way or another.

  “This isn’t some sort of trick…?” Andric whispered.

  Tybalt looked at him and shook his head.

  Then the foxman joined the others on the ground, pulling the harpy down along with him. They knelt and pressed their foreheads into the sand.

  “Thank you for coming, Lord Necromancer,” Andric said in a voice so low Tybalt had to strain to catch it. “Please deliver us.”

  The necromancer’s eyes widened. He hadn’t realized how seriously Andric in particular would take this. The catfolk, he understood. They were known fanatics.

  “Please deliver us,” the foxman had said. Deliverance from what or to what wasn’t clear.

  What seemed certain was that the necromancer had just inspired a moment of religious devotion from the beastfolk. He wasn’t quite certain what he should do with this opportunity.

  Vidalia said they’d basically fall into line and just do whatever I said once they knew who I was, right? So, I guess, it’s time to start giving orders.

  To his side, Vidalia finally knelt as well, though she did so with a knowing twinkle in her eye.

  “All hail the future king,” she said in a low, steady voice. Tybalt could hear the disguised lust, but he doubted others would notice it.

  Mariella looked tempted to join everyone else on her knees by sheer weight of peer pressure, but Tybalt lightly shook his head at her. She wasn’t a follower of the Death God, after all. Not yet. She was his lover. It would feel a little strange to make her kneel here.

  “Elder Olaf, rise and hear me,” Tybalt said, mostly because it was strange to talk to the backs of people’s heads.

  The older catman immediately rose to one knee.

  “Your Holiness,” he said, visibly emotional. “Anything I have, everything I am, is at your disposal. The whole village is. Should you wish for food, drink, shelter, women, servants… you have only to take what is already rightfully yours.”

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  Tybalt found that offer disturbing but very convenient.

  “I wish to raise the remaining occupants of the Valley of Martyrs,” he said. “We must have a defense against the Kingdom.”

  Andric visibly clenched his fists in his kowtowing position, his body language tense with what Tybalt guessed was excitement. For the man who had wanted to fight the Kingdom the most, this must be a dream come true. To actually have the power to do it would be a radical change to the status quo.

  A low cheer rose from all sides.

  “At last!” came a voice from some unidentified place.

  “The prophecy!” shouted another.

  “Of course, and our morticians will assist you in any way they can,” Elder Olaf said, speaking over the crowd. “Anything else? Supplies? Labor? Women? Any of our families would be honored to give you their daughters’ hands. Please give us orders, sire. Anything you wish.”

  “I will consider carefully how I might best make use of the cat tribe,” Tybalt replied. “The top priority is defense at the moment, but rest assured, I will learn more of your strengths and how to employ you in the defense of your people. I will say… that the isolation of the cat tribe is at an end. I know you have waited long for a leader to break your seclusion. You have distanced yourselves from your cousins, the foxes, the ibex, and the harpies. You have kept your bloodlines… pure… in order to ensure you did not lose access to the powers your ancestors possessed.

  Elder Olaf nodded in agreement and waited for Tybalt to continue..

  “That era… is at an end. From now on, none of the generation of catfolk now living will marry within the cat tribe unless I grant permission. You must marry outside of the tribe, among my other followers, in order to spread the strengths of your blood to the tribes that have weakened.”

  That will put a positive spin on it.

  There were murmurs of surprise, but Tybalt heard not a single note of disobedience from the gathered catfolk. They were too fanatical to disobey the chosen representative of their god, even if he overturned their core traditions on the same day that he arrived.

  Thank goodness. He had known he was taking a bit of a risk by making that pronouncement. But he would not lead a band of people who insisted on marrying brother to sister or, at best, cousin to cousin, in order to keep their ancestry “pure” and preserve their descent from a strong ancestor. That way lay madness and slow deterioration. And incest disgusted him as much as it did Vidalia.

  “As for myself, I am not looking for wives right now,” the necromancer continued. “There is too much to be done to expand the circle of people in my personal life. However, I will take Kistana, the woman who escorted us here, as my bodyguard.”

  Vidalia noticeably deflated and then perked back up over the course of that last sentence, while Tybalt heard a little squeak of surprise that he guessed came from the catgirl herself.

  Vidalia probably thought I wanted to take Kistana some other way at first.

  The idea wasn’t unthinkable—even a brief interaction with the catgirl where he’d barely gotten a good look at her had told him she was pretty, albeit a little cold with strangers—but a promise was a promise. He had said he wasn’t going to accept any wives if they were offered to him here.

  He needed people to stand by his side and be personally loyal to him more than he needed more prospective wives, anyway. Kistana had gotten the drop on Tybalt and the others, using the environment to her advantage, and she would be very effective at providing long range defense with that insane bow she wielded. There would be some situations where the undead would not be useful.

  “That girl?” Elder Olaf said uncertainly. “Please reconsider… She is disobedient, she lacks discipline, we punish her for defiance every other week, surely we could find you a better—”

  “I will discipline her myself if I find it necessary, Elder,” Tybalt said with a note of warning in his voice.

  That’s quite enough disparagement. From the way he interacted with her earlier, I’m guessing she gets a lot of shit from these people.

  “As you command, sire,” the Elder said after a moment.

  Tybalt looked down and found Kistana still kneeling, but subtly looking his way.

  Apparently in response to his proposal that she become his bodyguard, the girl’s red aura had fluctuated radically again. Something was definitely wrong with her.

  Tybalt thought he had a good general idea of her situation, but he would need to figure it out once they were away from her tribe.

  When his eyes landed on her, the catgirl suddenly averted her gaze. She had been looking up at him cautiously, her eyes confused and a little frightened, as he spoke. She quickly shifted her face to a cold, neutral expression. But he thought he’d caught a hint of excitement?

  I’ve been chosen, me! She had to have been thinking something like that. Pride was warring with the fear of the unknown and anxiety at the prospect that he would decide he had made a mistake. And she was probably a little worried that Tybalt would be a crueler leader than Elder Olaf.

  She awkwardly rose from the bow and moved in Tybalt’s direction without raising her head.

  “Your Holiness, I swear you will not regret choosing me,” she said as she drew close, speaking in a formal tone. “I will die for your cause if necessary.”

  “I would rather see you kill for it,” Tybalt replied, smiling down at her.

  The girl reddened slightly under his gaze, then simply lowered her head in acknowledgement.

  Tybalt patted her head once.

  “Rise, Kistana. You’re going to be my bodyguard, so there will be no more kneeling for you in future. You have to be alert to potential threats at all times.” He raised his voice. “For that matter, all of you may rise now. There is much to be done, and none of it can be done with my followers on their knees.”

  The catfolk began standing back up. Vidalia and Mariella both stepped closer to Tybalt, the latter seemingly self-conscious about being the only other human present. Kistana rose and positioned herself just behind the trio, eyes looking over her own tribe as she moved as if she suspected someone might attempt to assassinate Tybalt at any moment, and she was ready to handle it.

  I feel safer already.

  “First things first,” Tybalt said, projecting to be heard by all around. “As discussed with Elder Olaf, I will want to raise the dead here to form our greater defense force. I want those who are most expert in these preserved bodies to select the strongest out of those you have here, so I can prioritize raising them.” A few catfolk began moving in obedience to his commands as he spoke. “Second, I want all those who have classes to separate themselves from the group as a whole. The classholders will each explain their class and associated abilities to me so that I can assess your best use in future defense efforts.

  “Third, as I mentioned before, all of the unpaired catfolk will soon be mixing with the other beastfolk, both socially and to decide your future life partnerships. I don’t want you to begin doing that today; I will send word when I’m ready for you to start changing your behavior noticeably. But I think it will be a culture shock, so you should begin preparing yourselves mentally to meet and reunify with the other beastfolk. I know you have lived in isolation, and I respect your reasons for doing so. But the time of sealing yourselves off is over. Be prepared for an era of great change and upheaval, and have faith that it will come to a positive end.”

  There was murmuring, but again, the catfolk seemed to accept Tybalt’s commands as if they were pronouncements from Lord Mudo himself rather than the whims of a twenty-one-year-old with no real connection to their tribe.

  Blind obedience is the best case scenario for them, honestly, Tybalt thought. If they doubted me instead, they would be genuinely worse off.

  There were differing reactions from a few others, of course, as he noticed by turning his head slightly to take in the expressions of those closest to him.

  Elder Olaf seemed content, apparently entirely submissive to Tybalt’s will now that the necromancer’s identity was confirmed.

  Vidalia wore a smug smile. Everything was going according to her plan.

  Mariella seemed cautiously pleased in response to Tybalt and Vidalia’s confidence.

  Kistana still seemed surprised to have been chosen as bodyguard and wore a small frown with a trace of skepticism in it, as if she had begun to wonder if Tybalt might have conned his way through the Elder’s trial after all. But when Tybalt’s eyes fell on her, she disciplined her expression to a blank look again.

  The harpy guarded her emotions well so that Tybalt could not read her face.

  But Andric looked the most pleased of all, like someone had given him a gift. When he and Tybalt’s eyes met, the foxman gave him a warm smile of approval. Andric had wanted the beastfolk to defend themselves properly, and he had probably been here to try talking the catfolk into joining him in that endeavor. Now Tybalt had done everything to accomplish that goal.

  Hopefully he maintains those good feelings when he learns we’re both pursuing the same women…