"What is it, Rita?"
The woman cleared her throat and straightened her shirt before speaking.
"Master Fenn, you see, I'm not the only Dark mage in this county. I have three siblings; we all inherited the talent from our grandmother, and all studied her notes. But we constantly had to be on the move, so templars didn't catch us…"
Aleric narrowed his eyes. He felt that he knew where this was going.
"But a week ago, my siblings were thrown into prison in Tronvill! Not even for Dark magic—for selling herbal remedies without a license!" Rita shook her fist, then made a pleading expression again. "Master Fenn, it's only a matter of time until someone discovers that my siblings are Dark mages. Please, save them, and we all will serve you loyally to the best of our abilities!"
Samuel quietly cursed.
He couldn't believe he was so blind when he was alive! At least, this didn't matter anymore. He was more concerned that the witch might try to trick his master. Samuel might have forgiven her lack of femininity, her Dark magic use… But not this clear attempt to trick Aleric into extra favors.
But Aleric himself smiled.
"Tronvill, huh? Did you come here just to ask for my help, Rita?" he asked.
"I… Well... It's so that my siblings and I could all serve you! More subordinates is better, after all!"
"Hmph. Luckily for you, I was going to Tronvill either way. Until we get there, you might show in practice that you and your siblings will be worth my protection, since I will have to stretch my supplies for you, too."
"Yes, yes! Trust me, I will be useful."
Aleric nodded and waved his free hand. A mental order to resume marching flew over the entire army. A second later, it resumed moving with sounds of a hundred unsteady footsteps.
"You can ride one of the free horses, or sit in a cart, Rita," Aleric said, walking ahead himself. He wanted to stretch his legs before breakfast. "We won't be making stops."
Samuel forcefully marched past Rita, almost brushing her with a steel-plated shoulder. She gasped, then ran up to walk alongside Aleric.
"You said that you can curse and kill people with magic. What spells are those? Tell me more about them," Aleric ordered Rita.
"Yes, Master Fenn. Well, there are only three spells that I know, really. The first is the simplest…"
Rita raised her hand and concentrated. A flash of green energy ran over her fingers.
"The Pain spell," Aleric said before she could even release the energy. "It's really barely a spell… What are the other two?"
Rita released the magic and let out a breath of relief.
"The second is a spell to make lasting undead puppets, Master Morr. You must know this one, too…"
"I do."
"And the third lets me sap the strength out of someone! It's like they are sick with a bad cold; they might actually catch one. I can even do that without seeing a person if I have a drop of their blood or a hair. Except, my mana lets me curse someone only for a few minutes… My grandma called this the Lesser Curse of Weakness."
"This one, I don't know. You will teach it to me," Aleric declared. "Might even start now."
"Oh… Of course."
The spell was as simple as other first rank spells Aleric knew so far. As soon as he memorized the short incantation, he could cast it.
Which he did, aiming for a crow sitting on a tree over the road.
A thin thread of Dark magic appeared, tying Aleric to the crow. It let out a caw, then flew to another branch, not looking too inconvenienced.
With each passing second, the spell took a tiny amount of Aleric's mana. He felt that he had enough to make the spell last for several hours if he wanted to—but trying to pour more at once immediately destabilized the magic and ended the spell.
"This is near-useless," Aleric concluded, lowering the Spine Staff. "Unless I come up with a stronger version…"
"Perhaps I will be able to assist? Although I know nothing about the school of Curses," Spine Staff said.
Rita gasped.
"It talks!"
Aleric glanced at her and decided to ignore that.
"Rita, I want you to obey Samuel's orders. There's a lot of work in this army for people with some intelligence and a pair of not rotting hands. He will find you something to do until I need your magic."
"Him? But he's a former templar, isn't he?" Rita asked. "How can he be… Anything of importance, actually!"
"Samuel is not a templar anymore. And I trust him much more than I trust you." Aleric said threateningly. "This is MY army. Soon, it will be MY kingdom. I decide who rules and who obeys."
"Yes, of course, Master Morr…"
Rita bowed her head and slunk away to the former justicar. His armor was still dented in many places, but was now clean and shone in the sun.
Aleric sent Samuel a mental order to make sure that at least one sentient undead was making sure that Rita didn't try to do anything funny. Then he looked at the road ahead.
Tronvill was close. Besides the countless future undead, there surely was going to be a forge. Not only Samuel's armor, but a lot of other weapons and armor required fixing.
'I will need to make undead servants out of the smiths and their apprentices.'
The army continued to march without adventures for the rest of the day. When Aleric and Rita grew tired of walking, they sat in carts or on undead horses. To eat, Aleric ordered short breaks.
The sky was turning dark when Aleric saw a sprawl of houses ahead. Several columns of smoke were coming from chimneys.
He smiled at the sight. Even if the townsfolk of Tronvill knew about Aleric's appearance, there were enough people brave or foolish enough to stay inside.
It was time to reap what he didn't sow.