Defiant Necromancer (Book 2 stubbed)

Tybalt worked.

While the army of the beastfolk, the undead, and the high elves advanced south, they didn’t need the necromancer to directly command anything. Frankly, many of those in his army were probably better tacticians than he was, though none of them could replicate his ability to control the undead like they were appendages of his body.

Still, he did not expect them to run into any trouble. That meant it was incumbent on him to spend his time wisely and not simply sit back, watching his troops march and resting on his laurels.

He spent every morning raising new mummies in the Valley of Martyrs. The families of kings were first on his agenda - many of them had the same classes as the Beastkings themselves - followed by any renowned warriors and those who held useful classes.

The cat tribe that had managed the mummification process and protected the Valley for generations had also kept meticulous records that aided Tybalt in finding the correct bodies.

His only companion for the moment was his wife and former bodyguard, Kistana.

Well, he thought of it as her being his former bodyguard. In practice, she had insisted on accompanying him here when he teleported to the Valley each day, and Tybalt suspected it was because she didn’t quite trust him to protect himself.

Old habits died hard. A woman sworn to serve and obey her tribe, now sworn to serve and protect Tybalt… and subsequently bound to him by affection and matrimony.

“You don’t have to come with me, kitten,” he said gently.

It was a new nickname he was trying out, considering he’d heard the other girls call Kistana “kitty” and “kitty cat” more than once.

The catgirl’s fuzzy orange-red ears twitched, she reddened slightly at the word “kitten,” and then she shook her head sharply.

“You say that, but if I leave you alone, next thing I know, you’ll start a fight with a dragon or something. It always seems to happen when I’m out of commission or far away.”

She stood over Tybalt protectively as he knelt over another fresh mummy, recounting her warped version of past events as she looked from side to side, watchful for anything that might threaten her husband.

“That’s not how things happened at all!” the necromancer replied slightly indignantly. “First off, both times, the dragons started it. Second, you’re only out of commission at the time, because you keep insisting on trying to protect me from dragons and giant falling boulders and the gods only know what next!” He saw her frown slightly at that and added, “Not that I mind. Your devotion is very sweet. Just… you are pregnant now, and… If I did wind up in danger, I’d be more worried about you and our baby than about myself.”

The catgirl was showing now, her bump obvious even in the relatively loose and modest clothing she preferred for most occasions.

“Then take Aoife with you, if you don’t want to risk me,” Kistana said carefully. “She is motivated to protect you, too. She’s the only one of your inner circle who I’m confident can do a better job of it than me or Dero.”

The dragon was honor bound to fight for Tybalt now that he had defeated her in a fight, per her words, but Tybalt could not help chuckling to himself.

“If I actually needed protecting, I’d probably ask Dero, but you all forget how well I can defend myself. I won against Ragga and Aoife, remember?”

He made sure to mention Ragga, since the fight with the ogress had been a formal duel, while his much shorter bout with Aoife had taken place after the dragon was weakened from fighting Kistana.

“Why Dero?” Kistana asked pointedly. “Why not Aoife?”

“I’ve never really spent much time alone with Aoife,” Tybalt said after a moment, a little taken aback by this line of questioning. “And I trust that she would try her best to protect me if I asked. Maybe not as motivated as you or Dero, though.” He chuckled a little.

“Maybe, maybe not,” the catgirl replied, giving Tybalt a meaningful look. “You should give her a try sometime. I think she’s got her own reasons. If it was her strength you were worried about, I’d point out that she gets stronger every day. She’s growing faster than any of us, except maybe you, considering your power is your army.”

“I guess you have a point,” he said doubtfully.

It wasn’t her strength I was expressing doubt about, though. Is Kistana implying Aoife has some feelings toward me beyond that draconic instinct that the weaker should submit to the stronger?

If Kistana was doing that, Tybalt did not know why she chose to be so vague. Sometimes, halfway communicating something was worse than not saying it at all.

Then again, Kistana isn’t Vidalia. She doesn’t have any particular reason to try to pair me with other women… Maybe she’s reluctantly pushing it, because she thinks Aoife can’t talk to me herself.

“You could at least talk to her,” the catgirl said.

Yeah, she’s definitely hinting something. I’ll have to give this more thought. I wonder when Aoife and Kistana got so close. Maybe it’s from training together so often.

The two were frequent sparring partners.

“There is one more thing,” Kistana added in a low voice. The tip of her tail dropped into Tybalt’s lap and gently brushed against one thigh. “Another reason why I wanted to spend some time alone with you, besides the purely practical. With Lady Vidalia and Lady Mariella’s recent deliveries, I know you have not been, um, intimate with them. I know Lady Victoria, Lady Dero, and Lady Samara have filled in some of that gap…”

She left the rest unspoken and waited for his answer. She had given him enough to go on.

The catgirl was obviously wondering, What about me?

Unlike Dero, Samara, and Victoria, Kistana hadn’t simply snuck time alone with him on days when he was normally intimate with Mariella or Vidalia. The catgirl was still shy about those matters, despite her confidence on the battlefield and the growing respect and authority she held among the beastfolk. She respected the schedule that had been largely devised by Vidalia, though the schedule had yet to change to account for recent realities - pregnancy and childbirth - that radically altered the participants’ appetites and capacities.

Tybalt looked up at Kistana’s face, and she looked away. But the tip of her tail found what it was looking for between his legs. It was just a gentle touch, nothing too sensual. More like a reminder that she was there. Available. Wanting.

“You’re still so shy about these things,” he said, adopting a lightly teasing tone.

Kistana wasn’t confident enough to initiate with him when it wasn’t her day. Today was technically Vidalia’s. But even the ravenous foxgirl’s appetites had almost gone away for a time, as she had given birth just a week ago. The same was true for Mariella, having delivered Tybalt’s other son on the same day.

“My only experiences have been with my husband,” Kistana said in a slightly quavering voice. “It’s only natural… a maiden’s shyness… and with my tribe’s attitude toward these things…” A cute pink decorated her cheeks.

“Mariella’s only been with me, too, but she was still ready to, uh, take the initiative after one or two encounters,” Tybalt recalled. “Still, you’re making progress. I remember just a few months ago, you were pretending every encounter was for the purposes of making you pregnant. Or for my personal satisfaction, with nothing in it for you but the pleasure of pleasing me.”

“I started saying thank you,” Kistana replied, speaking in a much lower voice than usual that threatened to drive Tybalt up a wall. “That strongly implies that I wanted the things you were doing to me. Or, even if I started out only wanting to please my husband and lord, and bear your children, maybe you made me want more despite myself.”

She’s teasing me right back, he thought, enjoying himself more with each passing second. The tip of her tail still moved in his lap, just tickling him, not bold enough to do more without an obvious sign from him.

“Does it imply that?” Tybalt asked. “I thought you got that idea from Dero.”

The catgirl’s face shifted into something like a pout, and then she let out a little squeak of surprise. She bit her lower lip lightly and looked down at Tybalt’s hands. He had taken hold of her tail and was now stroking it and slowly winding it around his fist.

The necromancer sent a quick copy of the exact orders he usually gave to the mummy beside him as it began to rise from its slumber. The standard package now was to always obey him, advance his interests, never harm any living being without his express or implied permission, and obey his inner circle in order of the chain of command - with the necromancer and his wives at the top, of course.

This time, there was an additional order that this undead would report to Kistana and the huntsmaster Beastkings specifically, because the mummies Tybalt had raised today were all members of that family line.

Not as powerful as the Beastkings themselves, but powerful assets all the same, significantly stronger than a normal warrior, archer, or monk class.

The mummy silently bowed its head in acknowledgement, and the necromancer pulled his attention away again.

“I’m just saying, don’t be afraid to get what you need from me,” Tybalt said, rising and turning to face Kistana directly. “You know we’re having a family meeting tomorrow. I think it would be wise for us to revisit the schedule for the next month or so then. But Kistana… the more important thing for you is not to be afraid to be open with me about what you want and need. I know you want it. I know you like it. I knew it before you started that ‘thank you’ thing. I won’t pretend I don’t like it, but… it’s just communicating something we both already quietly knew.”

The catgirl gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. Maybe she didn’t quite trust herself to speak.

He gave an experimental tug on her tail. Almost gentle. Guiding her toward one of the cots the alchemists had slept on back when the catfolk village was not essentially abandoned.

“I’ve used up most of my mana for now,” Tybalt said. “We have some time before we can teleport back to the others… So why don’t you and I go and relax a little?”

Kistana’s smile spread rapidly across her face, but she restrained her actual words.

“Whatever pleases my husband, of course.”