Daughter of Death - A Necromantic LitRPG

“Oi.”

A young man caught a haze of his own thoughts was suddenly returned to the living world. Next to him was another soldier, offering a crumpled sheet of parchment in one gloved hand. Taking the notice with interest, he gave the poor handwriting a once-over, squinting his eyes to see through the darkness.

“Caravan…” He muttered, “What is this?”

“Some of our lads are planning to desert.” His comrade replied, “They’ve got wagons and enough supplies to see them on their way to the Dwarven Mountains. If you fancy going with them, then find yourself a quill and pen your name before midday tomorrow.”

“Desertion?” His tone was worried and disappointed, “Why?”

“‘Why’, he asks…” The older soldier’s armour jostled as he readjusted his footing, “Tonberg’s done for, lad. Plague, undead, tyranny - you name it. It’s too much for some souls to bear, and they want out. Happened when the Order attacked, and it’s happening now. A bad omen.”

“There won’t be anyone to protect the civilians if every guard deserts!” He exclaimed.

“-And what makes you think any soldier cares about protecting civilians, hm?” The guard didn’t seem at all bothered by the morbidity of his own words, “It’s always been about wages. Wages and influence. Men war, fight, and die… but few of them do it for glory. Most are in it for their own sakes, and if the tides turn…”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about…”

“You’re holding all the evidence you need to create your own conclusions, son. I’m just trying to be realistic.” He continued, “Leaving all this behind… it’s about more than plain selfishness. Some folk will do ridiculous things just to keep on living, even if they’re only buying themselves a few more weeks…”

The young man didn’t want to surrender himself to realism. To him, Tonberg was still a jewel - a beacon of hope in a darkening world worth risking one’s life to protect. Like all would-be heroes, he was trapped in a delusion of his own making, prepared to declare himself a martyr for just causes but liable to reveal his true cowardice in the final moments of his life.

He crumpled the parchment up and tossed it into a nearby puddle, causing a reflection of the distant moon to ripple. For a moment, he was mesmerised by the sight, but furrowed his brow when he noticed the water continuing to shiver even as its ripples subsided. The hazy reflection of the sky exploded into noise with a deliberate rhythm.

“What…?” He blinked.

As he honed his senses, a distant chorus sprang from beyond the district perimeter. As the seconds passed by, it only became more pronounced - a distinct thumping against the cobblestone road which only seemed to grow louder by the minute. Eventually, the old soldier noticed it as well, turning his attention to the crumbling ruins of the eastern district just down the road.

“What in the Wyrm’s name…?” He spoke under his breath, as if wary of catching the attention of some gargantuan beast.

It was obvious what the sound was at that point - the pounding of countless feet against stone, capturing the district in a storm of noise and vibrations. The young soldier’s heart threatened to beat out of his chest. He stared towards the source of the sound with dreaded expectation, greaves glued to the earth and spear trembling in his grasp.

The horde could be heard before it could be seen. Pitiful, wailing moans of the recently deceased caused the lights of terraced homes to flicker on, silhouettes dancing like manic fireflies in a cruel display of panic. Then, beneath the warm light of a wrought-iron lamp, half-decayed faces contorted in expressions of horror emerged from the darkness one-by-one.

“By the Gods…” The old soldier placed a reliable hand on his comrade’s shoulder, “Listen to me, boy. Turn yourself around and run for the castle as fast as your legs can carry you. Tell them to bring the whole bleeding army.”

“That’s…” Too many breaths at once clogged the young man’s throat, “What is this… I thought the necromancers-”

“Go now, lad! There’s no time to waste!” A forceful shove to his back finally separated his feet from the ground, “-And don’t mince your words, either! Tell those bastards at the castle that we’ve got an entire army of undead prowling the northern district! Go!”

There was no time to argue - or, indeed, to worry about what exactly the young man’s comrade was planning to do in his absence. The only truth he knew in that moment was speed. Speed and fear. His dreams of standing strong against a tide of undead disintegrated without so much as a thought made to preserve them. Within a matter of seconds, he was gone - vanishing into the night, leaving only the tired soldier and his creaking joints in the street.

“Wyrm save us…” He allowed one final glance towards the horde before rushing towards the entrance of a nearby home, banging on the door, “Oi! Oi! The necromancers are coming! Get out of the district while you still can!”

“Oh dear…” Drayya’s tone didn’t sound particularly bothered, “Seems we’ve been spotted.”

“Well, we knew this was going to happen.” Lieze replied, “We’d better split up now. There’s no telling how quickly the city will respond to our attack. We’ll use this main road as the staging ground for the conquest.”

“Leave it to me. I don’t plan on allowing any of these civilians a chance to escape.” Drayya replied, “I will move to the west, where the guards are most likely to amass. Marché will need to keep an eye out for any ambushes. We could be flanked from quite a few angles with all these alleyways about.”

“I’ll turn them to our advantage.” Lieze assured, “Good luck, and remember - if things don’t go according to plan, guarantee your own escape no matter the cost. We can’t afford to lose a single necromancer.”

With a dependable nod, Drayya gathered her cultists and thralls before departing. The single soldier risking his life to save what few civilians he could was forced to retreat as panicked screams began to spread through the street. Lieze turned towards the 5 cultists assigned to her group.

“To account for her reckless nature, I’ve assigned 2 of our 4 Briarknights to Drayya’s group.” She explained, “We can survive small skirmishes, but our true objective is to divert the enemy’s attention away from Drayya while she ploughs through the district.”

Lieze’s group was composed of 145 thralls in total - 70 under her command and the remaining 75 split between her 5 subordinates. With a combination of Gravewalkers and Flesh Elementals, they were suited to hit-and-run tactics, as opposed to Drayya and Marché’s groups which had to contend with the glacial pace of their Rot Behemoths.

“The defending force will amass in the west to prepare for a counterattack…” She placed a hand to her chin, “Moreover, any reinforcement from the southern districts will naturally assume that the east is still occupied, meaning they’ll take the long way around…”

The plan was obvious: lay an ambush somewhere with strategic significance. Where in particular that ‘somewhere’ was, however, remained to be seen. The main highway connecting the northern district to its sisters was the most likely place for soldiers to gather, especially spellcasters, who would be forced to seek open or elevated areas.

“There’s no need to complicate our strategy.” Nodding to herself, she turned towards her subordinates, “We’re descending into the sewers. Once we emerge behind enemy lines - preferably in an alleyway of some description - we’ll cause some chaos to draw the enemy’s ire before escaping.”

“Uh-” One of the cultists raised his hand, “I don’t mean to question your authority, my lady. But… wouldn’t such a strategy only work once or twice before the royalists catch on?”

“Them catching onto it is precisely what we desire.” She replied confidently.

“It… it is…?” He paused, “May I ask why?”

“After a number of ambushes, it will become obvious that we’re using the sewers to outmanoeuvre patrols aboveground.” She explained, “If we can read the enemy’s intentions and cease our activities as soon as they catch wind, they’ll waste time and manpower assigning guards to alleyways and the like, further splintering their cohesion.”

Divide and conquer - this was the strategy which had effortlessly earned Sokalar dominion over the Sovereign Cities. Soldiers were neither omnipotent nor particularly intelligent. Fracturing their command structure and busying the battlefield with unorthodox problems would slowly chip away at both manpower and morale.

“...I understand.” The cultist nodded, “We will follow your lead, my lady.”

Twin shadows leapt through the midnight air like rabid beasts, sundering armour and flesh with the ease of tearing paper. Drayya’s Briarknights were more than talented combatants - their very existence struck fear into the hearts of whoever opposed them. Of particular note was the thrall created from Helmach’s corpse, which leapt and parried and struck with the ferocity of a lightning strike and the grace of a swallow in flight.

“Sorcerers!” A voice which struggled for control over the chaos bellowed from the rear, “Vanquish these monstrosities with holy light! Let the Dragon be your eyes!”

Seconds later, a volley of golden javelins flew over the heads of the frontliners, scorching the cobblestone road as they landed. A few managed to sink into the flesh of the Briarknights, but the main force of Gravewalkers, Flesh Elementals, and Rot Behemoths remained unharmed thanks to the distance between the two.

“Fools. Spellcasters only have so much mana to spare.” Drayya muttered, one hand lazily supporting her chin, “Focusing on only a few thralls at a time… have these soldiers encountered the undead before?”

She observed the battle from a nearby rooftop, where no royalist dared to divert their attention. From that position, she had a full understanding of the enemy’s formation and all the time in the world to plan around it. The guards had formed their defensive line hastily, placing spearmen in front with knights standing at the ready behind. Sorcerers had been placed at the rear - including 3 Dragon Cardinals who seemed to be launching the majority of the magical volleys.

“Hah… what a pain.” She sighed, “Pushing into a wall of spears is too wasteful. Lieze would kill me if I lost those Briarknights. We can’t risk retreating in case we lose territory…. it’s a battle of attrition. One that’s only going to get worse as more royalists turn up.”

With that said, she couldn’t complain. One of her subordinates had detached from the horde’s rear to begin invading the homes of Tonberg’s civilians. She watched with glee as shadows dancing behind windows were overwhelmed by twitching, flesh-hungry abominations, ready to be raised again as yet more fodder for the cult’s crusade.

“Any second now…” Drayya’s ears perked up as a strange, metallic sound captured the district, “There.”

Behind the tight formation of royalists, a manhole had been knocked clean from its mold, landing with an unbearable screech as a pair of rotting hands emerged from the labyrinth beneath. Drayya observed with bated breath as Gravewalkers lifted themselves out of the sewers at an unbearably slow pace.

“What!?” From the centre of the formation, a captain of the guard turned to face the commotion, “An attack from the rear! Knights - retreat to the rear! Sorcerers - fall back to my position!”

“There’s no time to waste!” Taking advantage of the chaos, Drayya leaped to her feet and slid down the rooftop, “The spearmen have been caught off-guard! Use this opportunity to crush them!”

Countless eyes peered up to witness her order - most of them unfriendly.

“The rooftop!?” The guard captain exclaimed, “Sorcerers! Take that necromancer down immediately!”

-But his demand had come too late to be of any use. Without a care, Drayya leapt from the rooftop into the shifting mass of her thralls, activating [Levitation] at the last second to turn her fatal fall into a pleasant descent.

“Lieze is attacking from the rear!” She shouted to her subordinates, “This is the best chance to overwhelm their frontliners! Send the Flesh Elementals forward to support our Briarknights!”