Karnak, Monarch of Death-Chapter 183: Our Neighborhood Archlich (3)

After concluding the meeting with Erantel, the group settled down at Karnak’s usual inn in Derath City. Well, everyone except for Alius. He was destined to return to the temple and face a thorough scolding.

The most influential faith in Derath City was the Church of Hatoba, and Alius was none other than the top inquisitor responsible for the entire region. And, of all times, this disaster had to break out while he was absent.

Karnak and Varos clicked their tongues.

—Tsk, tsk. Poor Alius.

—His timing was just unfortunate.

Serati sent a telepathic message while leaning against the bed in her room across the hall.

—By the way, are you really planning to act as bait?

Karnak's answer came through the wall.

—It makes things easier.

Currently, the group was split into male and female quarters. Yet, communication was no issue at all. That was the beauty of telepathic magic. As long as they were within range, walls and obstacles meant nothing. Thanks to that, Serati could hold a private conversation while keeping an eye on Lapicel, who was fast asleep on the bed beside her.

Karnak continued.

—They're after me. Whether I play the bait or not, the result won't change.

Judging from Maloka's actions, Erantel and Theoderic would soon realize it too. Even if Karnak tried to step back, they would still push him into a bait role. If that was inevitable, it was better to take the initiative and control the strategy himself.

—I have to rescue the people too. It'll be much easier if I'm the one leading the operation.

Leven joined the conversation.

—I have to say, I didn't expect the part about the townspeople.

When they first heard that the Zestrad Barony had been taken over by an archlich, most imagined the worst. They pictured a land shrouded in dark clouds, exuding toxic fumes. Rotting earth would be crawling with nothing but the undead. It was a living nightmare where no trace of the living remained.

Naturally, everyone assumed the people of Zestrad had long since been slaughtered and raised as undead. But after scouting, they found that the reality was a little different. There were no ominous dark clouds and no festering land. Most of the people were still alive. Oddly enough, they had been left alone.

This was the part that particularly frustrated Erantel and Theoderic. It was fortunate that the townspeople were safe, but the enemy's intentions were completely unclear.

—Did they spare them just to use them as hostages?

At Leven's question, Varos shook his head.

—That's not the only reason.

Karnak spoke in a relaxed tone.

—That's a common misunderstanding among those who don't understand necromancy, but...

Both he and Varos had already anticipated Maloka's behavior. Having once managed an empire of the dead, there was nothing surprising about it.

—Undead aren't necessarily more efficient than the living.

***

A graceful two-story mansion stood atop a gentle hill, backed by the forest. It was once the longtime residence of the Zestrad family, but it was now occupied by sinister outsiders. A group entered the mansion, and the barony’s maids greeted them with bowed heads.

"We-welcome back."

Despite days of repetition, their voices still trembled. No matter how much time passed, it was impossible to grow accustomed to the sight of a grotesque skeletal figure draped in robes walking past them.

The grotesque skeletal figure, archlich Maloka, entered the mansion in silence. For a lich like him, the maids' hospitality was utterly meaningless. But it was a different story for the necromancers following behind him.

"Food! Is the food ready?"

"I'm starving!"

At their shouting, the head maid responded with a calm demeanor. Unlike with the archlich, they were at least dealing with living people. They had already adjusted to their presence, somewhat.

"The food’s ready. Please proceed to the dining hall."

It had been over two weeks since the Cult of the Black God seized control of Zestrad. The day they arrived had been sheer despair. The land had been swallowed by wicked shadows and the walking dead.

The people could only hope for a quick death in face of the hell’s army. But for some reason, the cultists didn't touch them. Or rather, they worked them hard, but their demands were not what one might expect.

They wanted noble-level meals served at every meal, pristine robes washed and pressed, luxurious rooms within the mansion prepared for their use... In the end, their job was just to manage the mansion and serve food. But this was already their usual work.

Lately, since Karnak had been absent for so long, they had simply been cooking for themselves. The necromancers’ demands were, in a way, only natural. Even necromancers, as human as they were, would still want to eat well and wear clean clothes. However, some of their demands were incomprehensible.

"What is this?!"

"The starch on the robes isn't thick enough!"

"The collar isn't stiff enough. Press it properly!"

"Ugh, useless fools."

From the maids' perspective, every black robe looked the same, yet the necromancers constantly grumbled about minor differences. However, they had no idea what made one robe any different from another.

In the end, these so-called wicked necromancers didn't seem all that different from an ordinary occupying force. Their attitude toward the townspeople was much the same. Skeletons and zombies patrolled the land, but that was all. As long as people remained obedient, they weren't attacked.

Granted, food stores, weapons, and supplies had been heavily confiscated, making daily life more difficult. The stolen resources seemed to be sent to another branch of the Black God's cult. But such plundering wasn't unheard of in any typical territorial war. In the end, being spared was still something to be grateful for.

In some ways, the undead occupation was even better than a human one. In war, young women were often subjected to horrific violence. But with nothing but skeletons, corpses, and ghouls around, such horrors never occurred. At first, the maids had feared the necromancers occupying the Zestrad manor, as they were still living men.

Yet, to their surprise, the necromancers never laid a hand on them. Not out of any sense of righteousness or honor, but due to their own bizarre, twisted logic.

—How dare a pagan seek the blessing of Tesranach?

—If you wish to receive my seed, you’ll first have to prove yourself worthy and become a follower!

In their minds, bestowing their grace upon mere servants was beneath them. Of course, not all cultists of the Black God thought this way. These necromancers, however, were zealots among zealots. They were devout enough to earn recognition as high-ranking practitioners.

Even by cultist standards, their mindset was deranged. For the maids, it was an unexpected stroke of luck. Thus, despite their struggles, the people of Zestrad endured.Still, no one knew how long this situation would last.

The manor's aged butler, Tafel, let out a weary sigh. I wonder what has become of our lord...

He recalled what Maloka had said upon first occupying the estate.

—So, this is the home of this bastard named Karnak?

The old butler offered a silent prayer while picturing the long-absent master of the house. Alium, please watch over our lord.

***

Although they were separated by the inn's walls, Karnak leisurely continued his telepathic conversation.

—Undead soldiers are certainly efficient in many ways.

They required no food, never grew tired, never disobeyed orders, and never hesitated or fled from battle. They followed their commander's orders with perfect precision. In a way, they were the ideal soldiers.

So had Karnak filled his entire army with undead during his days as the Monarch of Death? Not quite.

—As I've said again and again, undead don't move for free.

The greater their number, the more necromantic power was required, exponentially so.

—Once an army reaches a certain scale, feeding living soldiers becomes the easier option.

Living soldiers only needed food. That was it. They didn't drain their commander's energy.

—Well, aside from the occasional morale issue, but that's another matter.

Undead soldiers, however, constantly required necromantic power. The burden on the commanding necromancer only increased over time. For that reason, the old Karnak had structured his army with a dual system of undead and dark monsters.

—And monsters, being alive, naturally consume food. So where do you think that food came from?

Leven stiffened, startled.

—You don't mean... human soldiers?

The mere thought of feeding monsters with human flesh sent a chill down his spine.

Karnak shook his head.

—Well, it's true that some creatures preyed on humans, but that was just their nature. I never ordered it.

However, his choice wasn’t due to any moral or ethical reasons.

—Who in their right mind would base their supply chain on eating the enemy?

Even if soldiers could eat their foes, they still needed a proper food supply. Without it, the army would collapse in no time. Someone had to prepare food for the monsters. But most monsters were limited to hunting and gathering for sustenance.

—It’s a hundred times better to just make them produce food and use that rather than deliberately killing people to feed them.

Moreover, an undead army wasn't entirely free from logistical needs. They might not need to eat or drink, but they still needed weapons in their hands, didn't they? The reason skeletons in dungeons wielded rusty swords wasn't because rust made them stronger. It was simply because they had been lying there for a long time.

—They’d break apart the moment they clashed. Well, maybe they'd pose a tetanus risk at best.

An undead army was still more effective when equipped with decent weapons, which meant someone had to forge those weapons.

—And isn't it just faster to use prisoners for that? You can't exactly have zombies or skeletons working as blacksmiths.

Serati was surprised.

—Oh? You can't?

After all, she had read adventure tales where wicked necromancers used corpses for all sorts of labor.

Karnak smirked.

—I mean, technically it’s possible. With enough practice, you could make them do it.

The problem was that it was far too much trouble. It was like controlling a puppet to forge weapons. But why would anyone go through such a hassle? It was much easier to just hire a living blacksmith.

—That’s why, when it comes to production, undead are far less efficient than the living.