“We hardly have room to object,” said Elder Michael, giving Tybalt what the necromancer would have described as a slightly unpleasant smile. “Who could refuse to welcome a hero? I only hope he will consider choosing a bride from among our tribe, in addition to his human wife, to solidify his ties to the beastfolk.”

  “Is that an objection?” Isak asked, sounding a little impatient. “Or just an observation? Are you suggesting we impose a condition—”

  “No, no, of course not,” said Elder Michael, waving his hands with an annoyed expression. “Far be it from me to suggest such a thing. A man must have a free hand in such affairs. I have no objection.”

  “Hearing no actual objections, then, we approve your adoption into the fox tribe,” Eldest Isak said, clicking his tongue quietly. “Lord Necromancer, please learn our ways. You do not have to learn beasttongue—” There was a quiet grumble from Elder Vladmir at this, but Isak continued speaking over it—“but there are rules that apply to everyone, which we hope and expect you will try to live up to. We know you are new here, and you are a hero as well as the High Priest of our god, so we will certainly give you latitude.”

  “Thank you,” Tybalt said, giving the Council a little bow of his head.

  I hope this was the right call, he thought. Vidalia had seemed certain, but the way Elder Elswyth was looking at him gave Tybalt second thoughts. Does she have some plans to exploit me? Besides what Vidalia mentioned?

  “Now that this formality is over with, dear son,” said Elswyth, looking at Tybalt as though they were actually related, “I would normally get down on the ground and bow before you, as High Priest of Lord Mudo, but I hope that given our family ties, you will forgive me for not doing so. These old knees don’t bend as easily as they once did.” She let out a low, almost croaking chuckle, which a couple of other elders and some in the crowd joined.

  “That doesn’t seem necessary,” Tybalt replied, smiling.

  She nodded. “I formally request that you reestablish the priesthood of Lord Mudo. It has been a century since we had clergy with the power to heal, and it has made our skirmishes with the Kingdom more costly than they had to be. Only a priest can make a priest, so all we have now are shamans like myself.”

  There was a murmur from the crowd at this—surprise, excitement, expectation, all mingled together.

  Tybalt didn’t disappoint them.

  “It would be my pleasure,” he said.

  “Do we have volunteers?” she asked loudly.

  Instantly, a dozen people from within the crowd raised their hands.

  She planned this in advance, and she wasn’t subtle about it, Tybalt thought. The volunteers had all been positioned right next to each other in a line. She probably gathered her handpicked people before she heard that I woke up. Interestingly, they were all foxmen. No other beastfolk tribes were represented, and there were no women. Those have to be deliberate choices on Elswyth’s part.

  “That is wonderful,” Tybalt said. “I’ll speak with each of the volunteers after the meeting, and I’ll also continue to take new volunteers from all of the tribes. My first choice would, of course, be Elder Elswyth, if she wishes to be made a priestess.”

  The old woman smiled. “I am too old to embark on this adventure, honored son. But thank you for your kind words.”

  He nodded and returned the smile. As I expected.

  “Um, Lord Necromancer,” said Eldest Isak, giving him a weak look that attempted to be pleased but fell more into pleading, “It’s shameless, considering that you have just agreed to establish our new corps of priests, but the Council broadly also had a request we wished to make in the event that you decided to stay with us. We spoke to our sister Councils for two of the other three tribes.”

  There’s the cat tribe being left out again, Tybalt thought. I guess I should be glad about that. Their only influence will be me. I’m basically their Chief… until I’m ready to take a higher role.

  “What is the request?” he asked.

  “As I said, it’s shameless, but… you are a necromancer. We rarely have individuals with classes born into the beastfolk tribes, let alone such a powerful class as yours. It is widely believed that proximity to one who is a magic wielder can foster the development of magical skills and even increase the likelihood that a youth will earn a class when they turn thirteen years old. Therefore, our request—and the request of the other tribes—is that, once you and your companion are married, you take a dozen orphan children from families that have a history of magical talent and foster them. Many of our young people lose their parents in these times of conflict, and it would be wondrous if we could turn that loss to something less horrible.” The old man swallowed. “I know it’s asking a great deal, but we will support you—”

  “It would be an honor,” Tybalt said, cutting him off. “How could I ever refuse my new family such a heartfelt request?”

  Seriously, how could I refuse to take a bunch of little people who will help me perform manual labor? I’m sure I’ll get much more necromancy done with those tiny hands assisting me in gathering dead things.

  The air was still for a moment, and then the crowd erupted into cheers. Even the Council of Elders looked shocked at how quickly Tybalt had agreed to give them what they wanted. A few of them were visibly troubled.

  He could feel it, the dynamics in the Council that Vidalia had mentioned before, when they were discussing this. The Elders’ fear of losing influence, especially if a popular young leader were to steal their thunder. And their reluctance to be in his debt.

  “We have a strong culture of gift-giving and reciprocity,” she had said. “They already owe you a great and terrible debt that can never be fully repaid, and everyone knows it. Let them owe you more. Refuse them no request. Give them more than they ask for. They won’t ask you for anything beyond what you’re capable of.”

  His generosity, and the fact that this conversation was happening in public, only made the current situation more uncomfortable for them.

  “In fact,” the necromancer went on, speaking loudly until the crowd lowered their voices, “if the Council is willing to approve it, and the other tribes too, I would be willing to train every able-bodied adult in these mountains in mana manipulation. It’s how the Kingdom trains each of its soldiers to be able to somewhat counter those with classes, and even if it’s only of limited effectiveness, it’s better than nothing. Not all individuals have talent, but those who do can be molded into strong fighters even as adults. It will be important for us to be at our best when the Kingdom attacks again. I would be happy to take command of that process, if the existing War Chief, the great hero of the village, does not mind sharing his role to some degree with me.”

  Chief Mihalic was the first to speak.

  “We’re hardly in a position to refuse you, Lord Necromancer,” he said, looking as if he’d just swallowed a frog.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  That’s what I’m counting on, Tybalt thought.

  “I would be happy to work with you, Lord Necromancer.” That was Andric’s voice, Tybalt recognized.

  The necromancer turned to look at the other man, who was positioned at the edge of the crowd. Andric seemed genuinely pleased, and Tybalt returned his expression of happiness.

  I really hope the two of us can get along. Vidalia wasn’t sure either way. But if I have the choice, I’d prefer an ally over an enemy, every time.

  The Eldest shook his head and smiled. “Do we even need to vote on this decision? If there are no objections, we can name Lord Necromancer our second War Chief by acclamation.”

  There were no objections.

  “As a final matter, Lord Necromancer, we wish to present you with all of the remains from the skirmish in the village,” said Eldest Isak. “We collected and preserved all of them, including our own dead, for your use.”

  At the Eldest’s words, Tybalt heard a set of wheels begin turning. He looked back at the other end of the village and saw a pair of large, strongly built foxmen pulling a cart full of bodies and body parts. There had to be more than two dozen people’s remains in there, though it was hard to put a finger on an exact number.

  I think I saw those two when we fought the squad, right?

  He walked over and couldn’t contain his excitement at what he saw in the cart. In addition to the many mostly intact bodies, there were also many severed limbs and a few scattered bones. The unmatched pieces would give him a good reason to experiment with Fleshcrafting creatures into existence, which was not normally an efficient use of his time.

  I never thought I’d be so happy to see a pile of dead bodies in my life.

  Before he delved too much into inspecting the bodies, he made sure to turn back to the Council and yell, “Thank you!”

  They looked pleased with themselves, as if they thought they had started to make a dent in the psychic debt they owed him.

  He added, “I will use these undead to help keep you safe. Perhaps I can even save some of them so that the children I’ll be training can help me turn them.”

  A little bit of that relief seemed to drain out of the Elders’ faces. No, they were not decreasing the intangible debt. If anything, it was continuing to increase.

  “I took special care of this one, Lord Necromancer,” came Andric’s voice. From the sound of it, he must have moved over to the edge of the village in anticipation of this moment.

  Tybalt turned to see the foxman carrying over a very familiar-looking body that had been apart from the others and grinning.

  Commander Volusia. The necromancer smiled as he looked Andric in the eyes. I genuinely hope we do get along, despite our competing interests.

  Vidalia had mentioned a possible future where Andric would have concealed Volusia’s body somewhere that Tybalt would not easily be able to find it, but things didn’t seem to be going down that sort of route. It was encouraging.

  Tybalt thought he could also tell from the way that the Council reacted to him that none of them knew about his visits to the Valley of Martyrs, which meant Andric had kept the secret.

  All signs were positive.

  The future is ours to decide. I just have to try and approach him in a mature, emotionally intelligent way. Like I usually do.

  As Andric moved toward him, Tybalt quickly raised a few zombies from the dead miners—he intended to save the bodies of the soldiers for later—and instructed them with his usual litany of orders, plus the specific command to take the wagon and follow him to where he was staying.

  —

  The War Chief approached his new co-Chief bearing the burden of the Commander’s body proudly.

  He had performed basic preservation tasks on the corpse personally. Perhaps half of the fox, ibex, and harpy beastfolk had some knowledge of funerary arts, and Andric was among that number. For those who followed the Death God and believed that the beastfolk tribes’ martyrs would one day return to defend them, it was a matter of religious significance. In the summer and winter months, it was harder to transport bodies to the Valley of Martyrs, where the cat tribe, who had the most specialized knowledge of preservation, lived.

  It had felt a bit strange to preserve someone who had been such a vicious enemy in life. Normally, Andric thought of it as something they did to show respect to the dead.

  But he hoped this would be the beginning of a partnership between himself and Tybalt.

  Andric had begun to believe that he and the necromancer would work together amicably to benefit their now shared people, perhaps for many years to come.

  They had started off well, by killing Commander Volusia together.

  A part of Andric had been nervous about the necromancer, for reasons it was hard for him to label precisely.

  But after seeing the way Tybalt had used his power over the catfolk, entirely to build up the beastfolk’s defenses and correct some of the cat tribe’s cruel and perverse customs, Andric had decided to trust him.

  He set the cadaver down in front of Tybalt and awaited the necromancer’s reaction.

  “The body looks great,” Tybalt said after a moment with a curious note to his voice. “After a week, I would expect some bloating and discoloration.”

  “I took care of him myself,” Andric replied. “We know how to keep a corpse from rotting here.”

  The necromancer looked oddly uncomfortable.

  “Thank you,” he said after a moment.

  “It was my pleasure,” Andric said, his smile growing.

  He’s not used to someone else doing some of the work, the foxman thought.

  “Andric, I need to tell you something,” Tybalt said in a low voice, meant only for the foxman’s ears. He looked Andric in the eyes, and the foxman felt a little bit of cool nervousness in his gut.

  “Yes?” he said.

  “The two fox maidens who nursed me back to health alongside Mariella,” Tybalt said. “I intend to ask their uncle for the privilege of courting them. I… understand you were already doing that. So, out of respect, I wanted to let you know.”

  Andric’s mouth went dry, but after a moment, he managed to make himself respond.

  “The truth is, I had suspected,” he said. “In some part of my mind.”

  Tybalt raised an eyebrow.

  “You’re the man Vidalia has been dreaming about for years, right?” Andric asked.

  The necromancer searched his face with narrowed eyes.

  “Um, yeah,” Tybalt said after a moment, nodding. “She told me about that.”

  “So it was only natural that we would be in competition, then,” the foxman said.

  Even as he forced the smile to remain in place on his lips, he felt a hollow place forming inside himself.

  “Let the best man win,” Andric added. He extended his hand, and he and Tybalt shook.

  Andric felt his chances were grim, but there was nothing else that he could say. Telling Tybalt to stay away from Victoria and Vidalia would be presumptuous as well as stupid. Andric didn’t own them. Perhaps he had missed his chance to possess them.

  Is there any metric by which I have him beaten? With class levels, he’s probably stronger than me, even physically. He’s powerful, tall, heroic, and chosen by our god to protect our people. Why wouldn’t they want him? Maybe I’m better looking. But he is exotic in his appearance, and it isn’t as if either Victoria or Vidalia would be shallow enough to let looks be the deciding factor in any case. If I want to win… I’ll have to find a way to stand out.

  “May the best man win,” Tybalt agreed.

  After a moment, the necromancer picked up Commander Volusia’s body, and Andric watched him walk back to his women. His betrothed, his bodyguard, and now the twins he would be courting. All four of them were beautiful.

  It took a moment for Andric to realize he felt jealous.

  He stood there, trying not to stare, until a sharp pain broke him out of that state.

  “Ouch!”

  The zombies dragging the cart with the other bodies and body parts had run over his foot.

  He shook his head.

  Just focus on doing what you do best, Andric told himself. Lead. Unite people. Have faith. You’ll get the result you deserve.