"Uh… Well, a couple of days to fix everything with forges working day and night; as for replacements, a few hours to give them out, that's all. But this army will still be a bit rotten, master. Rotten, you get it?" Ditrich chuckled.
Samuel threw him an annoyed look, then turned to Aleric.
"Master Fenn, if any undead soldiers have free time, I can organize training drills. Even the dead can still learn how to hold a spear the right side forward and fight in formations. Of course, it will only work for undead servants."
"A good idea—IF anyone has free time. Before that, I have more tasks for those who can still hit a nail with a hammer without smashing their fingers. Our next target is Oakdale and its walls. Samuel, is there a way to cross them besides the battering ram? Like… a very long ladder?"
Samuel looked at Aleric with surprise.
Ladders and battering rams were such basics of sieges that even ordinary farmers knew about them from wartime stories. Despite being rational and sharp-minded, sometimes, his master seemed completely clueless about most ordinary things!
Somehow, this attribute only made Aleric more special in Samuel's eyes. Like a saint savant… A saint savant of Dark magic.
"Long ladders are often used for sieges, Master Fenn. It's dangerous and tiring to climb them, but the undead can't tire and won't die from falling off. If we make enough of them, it will help a lot. Also, it would be good to make extra wooden shields against arrows, and one large shield for you. There would be a lot of archers on the walls, as well as the surviving clerics. I assume you would want to be able to see the battlefield closer while still being safe."
Aleric smiled.
"How well you know me. Ditrich, you heard Samuel—get the people to work."
"Sure, sure, Master Fenn! I will listen to the dear former justicar's recommendations. Just as if he was alive, ah-ha-ha-ha!"
"In fact, I fear there might be more clerics than the three attached to Oakdale's temple," Samuel added, thinking. "There's a chapter house in the next province, only a couple of days of riding to Oakdale. If Count Arstain asked for their assistance, they could reach Oakdale in time to reinforce its defenders."
"There's nothing we can do about it… Except to anticipate more undead templars in my ranks." Aleric grinned. "So far, your former brothers had some of the best weapons and armor, even if it was a pain to kill you."
"Templars are also much better trained than most of the militia that Count Arstain will throw at you, master," Samuel said proudly, ignoring Ditrich. "Still, their possible addition to the enemy's numbers troubles me."
"Numbers? There are still countless dead in this place. Or did you think I plan to take Oakdale with only a thousand soldiers?" Aleric grinned. "There are generations of dead lying in the local graveyard… And with my current skill, I don't even need to dig them out before reanimating!"
***
Around this time, in the sky above Estairn, a pigeon was flying with a letter attached to its foot. The small bird didn't know the importance of its missive, only that it had to reach home. It also didn't know that since it left its aviary, the pigeon was being stalked.
A shadow fell over the little bird.
Alarmed, it flapped its wings furiously, trying to shake the unknown threat off its tail.
But its pursuer was much faster. Like the sky itself, a white raven thrice the pigeon's size swooped onto the bird, snatching it in its steel-tipped claws.
The pigeon's wings fluttered as the bird rasped out a few last breaths.
Meanwhile, the white raven let out a victorious caw and flew to the city below. She made a circle around the massive High Temple of Light, then turned and flew to another side of the city entirely.
There, the raven swooped toward an unremarkable one-story house, where her master was already waiting with an outstretched hand.
"Ca-caw!" the raven cried out, landing there and proudly presenting her trophy.
"Good work, Judi. Good girl, more dependable than half of my agents," said Garron Redain, taking the dead pigeon from his long-time pet and partner.
The raven Judi (short from Adjudicator) was from a magical breed created by elves and was smarter than ordinary ravens, who were already very smart. She understood the words "good work" very well, and cooed happily as she hopped to sit on Garron's shoulder.
The old man went inside the house to unwrap the intercepted letter in the privacy of his home. The pigeon itself was given to Judi to eat.
The letter read:
[To Justicar Revad Moorshine.
You have new orders. Immediately gather all your forces and march as soon as possible to assist Count Arstain in the defense of Oakdale. You are the closest, and I expect you to be there before it's too late. Beware, your enemy will be extremely powerful. Warn everybody you meet on your way to hide, for there's a necromancer near, searching for more servants.
Light be with you.
Praetor Felsh Ravindal.]
"That idiot…" Garron hissed after he finished reading. "Well, if I expected him to act smarter, I wouldn't have been watching his mail."
He knew a servant in the temple's Aviary, whose mother was saved from a vampire by Garron twenty years ago. The bird boy gladly told Garron all about who in the Temple sent the letters and to where.
The boy and his mother were a rare case, so Garron didn't tell him to steal any letters and possibly be caught. Instead, he sent Judi to do the work.
Garron knew that the praetor sent out his original call to arms. But when his agents told the inquisitor about the massacre in Tronvill...
Garron grew wary that the praetor might change his orders. And he was right.
'This chapter house can't have more than sixty people. The necromancer killed that many, and more, before. They won't change anything now! Only give him more meat,' Garron thought in frustration. 'Exactly when we should be saving our forces. Both the Praetor and the Count Arstain have too much sentimentality, and it will kill at least one of them!'
Garron's frustration was especially large because he already advised that Count Arstain should evacuate Oakdale. Then, perhaps the army of nearby counts could intercept the necromancer's hordes in the next province, and lives could be spared.
But Arstain's reply was, "This is my ancestral home, I can't just abandon it, no matter the danger!"
Garron suspected that Arstain would try to escape with his family if the necromancer began winning again.
With a weary sigh, Garron raised the letter in an outstretched hand and snapped his fingers. From a spark of Fire energy, a tongue of flame appeared on Garron's finger and set the letter aflame.
Justicar Moorshine would follow old orders and lead his people to Estairn's rally point, not to Oakdale.
As for Garron, he had more things to do. The necromancer clearly wasn't going to be stopped without Garron's help.