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Home / War / Necromancer: Undead Lives Matter / CHAPTER 80
CHAPTER 80
Author: Alexis Zee
last update2026-10-17 21:52:48

“This one...” I said, pointing at the warrior I'd personally killed. “He kept mumbling something like matera, matera. Any idea what it means?”

“He was calling for his mother,” Estrid answered curtly.

I felt even worse.

Everyone has a mother and father, or had them once. Yet in moments of sheer terror and shock, for some reason, it's always their mother they call for. Somewhere deep inside every person, even the toughest veteran who's survived dozens of bloody battles, there's a last line of def
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  • CHAPTER 95

    And now, standing in the middle of this square, I was looking at people who needed nothing more than accordions in their hands to complete the childhood image burned into my brain.They were speaking a language I couldn't understand. Old Russian, perhaps, or something along those lines.“Who are these people?” I asked the necromancer walking beside me.“Venedi...” Astrid replied uncertainly. “Or Antes. Or Sclaveni. I couldn't tell you for sure. I'm not particularly knowledgeable about different peoples.”All right, time to dredge up those school history lessons.I'd definitely heard of the Venedi. The Antes? No fucking clue.But Sclaveni sounded almost identical to Slavs.That's it! They were Slavs.Not necessarily Russians, though. There had always been a hell of a lot of Slavs on this planet. Poles were Slavs, for instance. So were Czechs, Slovaks, Serbs, Croats, and Bosniaks.Culturally, however, they might as well have been Greeks as far as I was concerned.There was no point look

  • CHAPTER 94

    On the other hand, I could buy slaves and then effectively set them free, hoping they'd choose to keep working for me.But that was idiotic for an entirely different reason. It wouldn't solve the problem of slavery, and once freed, those people would have little reason to keep busting their backs for my benefit. Most would probably head straight back to wherever they'd been taken from.On the first bus out.Well, there wouldn't actually be any buses, but you get the idea.Anyway, I'd made up my mind. For now, we'd manage without slaves or servants. Once I'd repaired the house and got everything in order, we'd hire a couple of cooks and housekeepers to prepare meals and keep the place clean.There was a mountain of work ahead of me, and I couldn't afford to waste my time cooking and scrubbing floors.I also had plans for a radical overhaul of the heating system, provided I could find the right materials at the market. Fireplaces were horribly inefficient, and having one in nearly every

  • CHAPTER 93

    “Thirty-three,” I corrected her after doing the math in my head.Everyone stared at me in astonishment.Even Astrid looked at me as though she couldn't figure out what had just happened.“Are you being cheeky with me?” Alexios frowned.“I divided fourteen thousand by four hundred and twenty and got thirty-three point three repeating,” I explained.Judging by the way the strategos and his daughter exchanged glances, they hadn't understood all of it.“That's a lie,” the strategos declared confidently. “I don't like being lied to.”“But why?” I asked. “And what exactly is the lie?”“You can't just take numbers that large and divide them in your head,” Alexios Komnenos replied. “Even my daughter, who's a mathematical genius, can't divide numbers that quickly.”“Fine.” I nodded. “Let's run an experiment. Give me any two numbers.”“One million three hundred and fifty thousand divided by five hundred,” Anna said with a superior smile.All right, bring it on.“Two thousand seven hundred,” I a

  • CHAPTER 92

    “Come on,” I told Astrid.We turned and headed toward the center of the marching column, where the strategos's carriage was traveling with his daughter.As it turned out, Alexios regularly brought his daughter along on military campaigns so she could document everything in her biographical account of his life. The book didn't have an official title yet, but Anna had confided in me that she wanted to call it The Alexiad, modeled after the Iliad and the Odyssey.“Climb in,” Alexios called as he opened the carriage door.I hopped onto the step and climbed inside, followed by Astrid.It was worth mentioning that Alexios had already made a pass at Astrid. And not a subtle one, either. He'd been remarkably forward about it, even with another Alexios—namely, me—standing right there.Not that Astrid and I had anything going on between us, but it still felt a little awkward.Fortunately, Komnenos had received a very clear rejection and quickly backed off his advances toward the Nordic necroman

  • CHAPTER 91

    CHAPTER 91 (23)Russian Federation, Vladivostok, Fort No. 1, June 19, 2021A portable electric lamp illuminated Artillery Tower No. 3. Its light reached only as far as an old wooden workbench, behind which stood a man everyone in the Society called Behemoth.Behemoth was working on a personal project he'd undertaken on his own initiative: improving the Society's combat capabilities.The others preferred kidnapping random homeless people from the city and draining them to rejuvenate themselves. Their Mistress had given them what was arguably the most valuable spell of all. After just a week of draining life energy, the Maiden's hands had become roughly ten years younger.No one knew the Maiden's exact age, but Behemoth estimated she was somewhere between forty and fifty.Not that it mattered anymore.Behemoth himself hadn't undergone the draining procedure yet. He considered himself too young for it. At twenty-five, he was in the prime of his mental and physical abilities. There was no

  • CHAPTER 90

    But the most impressive feature was a massive double bed.At a table covered with parchment maps sat a woman of about thirty, dressed in an elegant, expensive gown.She was undeniably beautiful. Her brown eyes were expressive, medium-sized, and framed by long eyelashes. There was a sadness in her gaze. Her nose was straight, a textbook example of the Greek ideal. Her mouth was medium-sized, with richly red lips. A sharp chin complemented the contours of her face. Her skin was snow-white, without a single visible blemish. Her long hair fell in soft waves.It was difficult to estimate her height while she remained seated. Her build was average, and her breasts looked to be approximately a B cup. Objectively speaking, she was a beautiful woman, possessing a distinctive Mediterranean charm.If I'd encountered someone like her on the streets of Vladivostok, I'd have immediately become painfully self-conscious and never dared approach her, let alone strike up a conversation.Still, standing

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