CHAPTER 12 Raise, Resurrect,Revive

Keith

"She's been down there for two hours already, hasn't she?" Keith massaged his temple. It had taken most of the afternoon to organize immigration for his kingdom's four new healers—and to dispose of the fifth. He had six major bases throughout the forest, so all five would have been preferable, but Keith only needed three; they could split their craft between two locations each.

After he moved their families and all their worldly possessions here, of course.

The fifth healer had been appalled and told the others that they were sacrificing their families to the Dark Lord for gold in return. Their social security was bought on the lives of their loved ones.

But Keith didn't need their lives. Chloe might, though she preferred bodies already decomposed into bones over working with the recently deceased. At that point, it was a simple [Revive] and have a good day.

He still made her [Raise] his fallen minions after it was too late to properly [Revive] them. Sure, a zombie couldn't have children or grow old, but they could do pretty much everything else. At least they could after Chloe bound the wayward soul back to its body. Chloe had told him she thought it was a waste of mana, but to not do so would be a waste of resources.

Besides, if they died for him, then it was his responsibility to take care of their families and their last will and their replacement … and it was just a headache. Better to bring them back.

Raise. Resurrect. Revive, like he always said.

"Yesss, Master. I've just come from checking." Tulith curtsied. No one, including Tulith, was allowed in this area of the castle without a direct summon. But since he wasn't building attention-demanding constructs that required all his concentration to not explode, and he had a houseguest to keep track of, Tulith had been granted special permission to come here and report on Henrietta in the afternoon.

So far, his multitude of examinations on the princess had left a glaring but so far unsolvable problem for Keith. Henrietta, for all her assurance that she was only an eighteen-year-old Sword Master and surely no match for him … could punch him into oblivion if she had the mindset to do so.

And there was the problem.

She didn't have the mindset. So, while she was perfectly capable, she didn't think it was possible, and had thus walked right through his guards.

Usually, Keith didn't need to bother doing anything himself. His constructs protected his minions, and his minions relayed him news. He would get a report, and the body of any assassin sent into the Dark Enchanted Forest would simply be found lying at the crossroad into the kingdom of Drendil. Or whichever kingdom their character sheet said they were from.

There might be a few more killers disposed of and deposited in Drendil than originated from there, but if they had kingdom of origin, then Drendil could deal with them. He enjoyed reading their complaints more than he would admit.

This time, not so.

His highly trained, bloodthirsty crew of gore-crazy lizardkin guards had trusted the golems and let this assassin barge into his lands, into his castle, and even into his inner sanctum.

And there was no way he could devise a construct to [Sense Motive] a traumatized princess looking to get murdered.

Although maybe …

"Tulith, go tell Rufus it's time to wrap up for today." Keith rummaged through his shelves and found a mostly empty container of hens-teeth jelly. Next, he unearthed three sticks of cinnamon and a bottle of dragon's blood. "I know he's been working a lot, but tell him I have one last order of business to discuss before he's done for the day—Wait, actually, I'll be busy. I'll send him a note instead."

She waited while Keith scribbled out the plan for Rufus and his new [Construct Creation]. If it worked, Rufus would be getting more visitors.

Keith waved the paper so the ink could dry faster, and then handed it to the maid. "Give this to Rufus when you retrieve Princess Henrietta."

"Yesss, Master." Tulith went to do as instructed, leaving Keith alone with a new enchantment to figure out.

"Why does everything need to be learned by trial and error?" he groaned, not for the first time. "Why can't we just share our dark discoveries like reasonable people?"

He knew spells to inspire someone to take their own life. Spells for depression and anxiety and violence. His dark tomes were filled with blood magics and poison for the soul.

How hard could it be to craft a spell that would sense these things? He also needed to include an order that anyone caught in the new spell would be taken alive and thrown in the dungeon.

Rufus could sort them out.

With newfound vigor, Keith got to mixing ink and crafting mana circles until one came out with his desired effect.

He neglected to plan for the fact that this was not his usual afternoon, and he would have interruptions very soon.