Necromancer Of The Black Bible (137)

Brandstein Castle.

Natasha was seated in the chair of the study at the very top.

She closed her eyes and was speaking with Damian.

-So the Spirit Cirrhnua will be incorporated into your forces.

[I see. Understood.]

-However….

[Yes, please speak.]

-You were originally traveling; will that be alright?

It was a question that hit the nail on the head.

Originally Natasha intended to take Verdin as her bodyguard and return to her hometown in the Principality of Tarnia.

But she had unintentionally become entangled in events and ended up here.

Natasha smiled broadly and replied.

[It doesn’t matter. I can see my father slowly when the time comes.]

-Tell me when you want to leave. I’ll send you right away.

[Thank you just for saying that. But I’ll stay here. This is interesting too.]

-That’s a relief. But don’t forget: my offer remains valid.

[Understood, Master.]

The conversation with Damian ended there.

‘Hometown…’

In truth, only half of her wanted to go.

The other half of her hesitated.

Her father’s circumstances and her betrothed’s situation—these things made her uncomfortable.

‘I can go slowly. After all, I’m an abandoned child.’

It was actually better now.

Because she could work on the foundation she had built.

‘Then I’ll take care of the backlog.’

She put on her black sunglasses again and diligently wrote something on the documents laid out on her desk.

They were, in fact, orders.

They were orders to maintain and govern Brandstein city, which she had occupied.

‘For now, I’ve sent all the living people out.’

Of the roughly one thousand soldiers defending the city, half had died.

The other half either fled or hid inside the city, and Natasha released them each time she found them.

She judged they would not be able to stay with her.

‘There’s more of a problem. Even if I let the soldiers go, there are many people remaining. About three thousand residents lived inside the town. About thirty thousand live outside it. Is letting all of them escape really the right choice?’

Natasha briefly imagined controlling them with some five thousand corpse soldiers, but she shook her head.

‘No matter how I think about it, it’s impossible.’

Humans fear the undead.

How could they not fear those who move despite being dead?

Such fear does not subside easily.

If she forced humans to stay by her side, who knows what they might do, seized by terror.

‘They might plot a rebellion or carry out sabotage from within.’

It’s better to let them go than leave them like that.

Unless the plan was to capture and kill them all.

Natasha paused her pen for a moment and fell into thought.

‘Wait. What if I killed them all?’

It was something she would never have considered when she was human.

How could she think of killing living humans—innocent people—all of them?

But Natasha was no longer human.

She had come to believe that death was merely part of life and a true beginning, so she looked at human death with a value of neutrality.

For her, killing the thirty thousand residents outright was a viable option worth deep consideration.

Above all, it would greatly strengthen her forces.

‘Hmm. What should I do?’

Natasha continued her thoughts.

Should she let the approximately thirty thousand residents live and send them away, or kill them all?

If she let them live and send them away, they could become the enemy’s army or their supply source.

But if she killed them and raise them as the undead, they’d become entirely her forces.

The more she thought about it, the more killing seemed more advantageous.

Yet strangely, she didn’t feel inclined to do it.

Clearly the benefit was greater, but a signal rang in her heart that it shouldn’t be done.

‘What is this?’

A feeling that you shouldn’t kill living humans for no reason.

When she focused on that feeling, it sounded like some kind of voice.

-You mustn’t do that.

-Life should not be treated that way.

-That is… wrong.

A voice so faint that you couldn’t hear it properly unless you concentrated.

She became curious about the identity of this voice coming from within herself.

At that moment the study door opened and Verdin appeared.

“Lady Natasha. Someone has come to the audience chamber.”

“Who?”

“Ten humans await as representatives of the village.”

“Ah, really?”

Natasha thought this was timely.

She needed to decide how to deal with them anyway.

‘I’ll just ask them.’

With that light thought, she went downstairs.

In the audience chamber there was a large chair, and in front of it stood ten people with pale expressions.

They glanced nervously at the undead soldiers standing on either side of the chair.

Natasha strode in, sat in the chair, and spoke immediately.

“Who are you?”

Then the eldest-looking man among them stepped forward and bowed.

He then answered in a clear voice.

“We have come here representing the people who live in the outskirts of Viscount Grovebern’s domain.”

“Hmm….”

Natasha crossed one leg and leaned back in the chair.

She stroked her chin and asked.

“So, what is your business?”

The elder hesitated for a moment.

The fear reflected in his eyes was palpable.

Natasha said to him.

“Do not worry; telling me what you want won’t get you killed, so speak up.”

“Well….”

The elder looked left and right, and when the villagers standing there nodded, he opened his mouth with difficulty.

“We ask that you do not drive us out.”

“What?”

Natasha couldn’t believe her ears.

They were asking not to be expelled.

Did they want to live alongside such terrifying undead?

At that moment, a large-built man standing beside the elder spoke.

“Exactly. Let us continue to live here. We’ll pay taxes. So please don’t drive us out.”

Natasha couldn’t help but be taken aback.

Undead are threatening to ordinary humans.

There are nearly six thousand such beings here.

And yet they want to continue living here?

‘What are their intentions?’

Could they already be agents of the Empire?

As Natasha watched them with a sharp gaze, a middle-aged woman standing to the elder’s left spoke up.

“Don’t misunderstand. We are not agents of anyone.”

“Then why do you want to remain here?”

If they were agents of the enemy, there would be more than enough reasons to suspect.

They could act as spies while living in the undead legion’s city, or play the role of rebels when a battle breaks out, and so on.

There were many deadly roles they could play.

Natasha rested her hand on the armrest and stroked the end of it with her long fingers.

The gesture seemed to reveal her displeasure.

The frightened middle-aged woman then spoke in a more trembling voice.

“W-we just want to live here. There’s nowhere else that will take us.”

“That’s right. We’re poor, so it’s hard for us to relocate to another area. It would take a considerable amount of money to move into another town.”

‘Money.’

Only then did Natasha understand.

If it was a money issue, it made sense.

‘Now that I think about it, even within the Principality of Tarnia you had to pay a tax to move elsewhere.’

This tax, usually called a migration tax, is quite heavy for commoners to bear.

It requires collecting four silver, roughly two years’ income, as the tax.

Whether commoners or tenant farmers, few can save four silver.

Most only earn just enough to get by day to day.

‘Money… so that’s part of it.’

Natasha’s mind began to turn rapidly.

Once money entered the equation, problems she couldn’t previously resolve presented themselves anew.

‘Certainly money is scarier than the undead. You can avoid the undead by not seeing them, but without money, it’s hard to survive even one day.’

Having sorted out her thoughts, Natasha spoke.

“Alright. I will grant your request. But there are conditions.”

At the word “conditions,” everyone’s expressions stiffened.

Natasha looked at each of their faces and began to speak.

“If you are to continue living here, we must take precautions against what we fear.”

Then the elder asked.

“What are you worried about?”

Natasha smiled faintly and answered.

“Betrayal.”

Natasha met the elder’s eyes and continued.

“I’m concerned that the reason you’re staying here might be to collude with the Empire to drive us out. I’m worried you might report the situation outside and, when war breaks out, strike us from behind or commit other acts of betrayal.”

“W-we will not betray you!”

“We won’t collude with the Empire!”

“That will never happen! We promise!”

But Natasha shook her head slightly and retorted.

“Who would believe promises from you alone? Isn’t that so?”

The villagers fell silent.

Because Natasha’s words were true.

No one, especially rulers, trust mere promises from villagers.

To make promises with a lord, collateral was always needed.

Collateral to guard against breach.

Those with property pledged it, but most without property offered their families as collateral.

The villagers glanced at each other, and soon the elder spoke.

“If we break our promise, you may kill us all.”

Natasha smiled faintly.

They had readily wagered what was most precious to them.

But she had a different calculation.

‘What you need to govern a domain isn’t this kind of desperation.’

Her father had once said this.

-The most important thing to govern a domain is hope.

-Hope??

-Yes. Hope. The hope that in this domain one can achieve all they desire. People who hold such hope will never leave the domain.

‘Not only will they not leave, they will develop the domain.’

Natasha looked at the elder and spoke.

“All right. I’ll remember that promise. And these are my conditions: I’ll halve the tax rate. If you need labor, request it. Our forces will help. Whether farming, hunting, or anything else, it doesn’t matter.”

At the sudden, radical offer, the elder and everyone else’s eyes widened.

“I-is that true?”

“You’ll lower the tax rate by half?”

“A-as for labor….”

Natasha gestured toward the undead soldiers standing by the pillars and answered.

“Them, of course. If you don’t like it, there’s nothing I can do.”

“No, no, no! We need them, immediately. It’s harvest season.”

Indeed.

The current season was autumn—the height of harvest time.

Although much labor was needed, Viscount Grovebern’s mobilization order had delayed the harvest.

If they waited a little longer, they might welcome the winter without properly harvesting their crops.

Having taken all this into account, Natasha’s eyes shone as she continued.

“What I said today will be announced this afternoon. It will be posted on the village bulletin board. So when you leave, those who require labor should apply in advance.”

The elder and the villagers began to consult with each other.

After finishing their murmured discussions, the elder stepped forward toward Natasha and asked cautiously.

“M-My Lady.”

“Yes. What is it now?”

“How should we apply?”

Natasha thought for a moment.

Come to think of it, there was no suitable person to entrust with this work.

Because the only ones here who could ‘think for themselves’ were Natasha herself and Verdin.

At that moment someone creaked open the audience chamber door and entered.

“Um….”

The woman who spoke cautiously was the Sylph Spirit-mage Laerin.

Laerin glanced around until her eyes met Natasha’s, and Natasha pointed to her and said,

“You should submit applications to that girl.”

Everyone turned to Laerin, who stared wide-eyed.

Natasha sprang up from the chair, approached her, and said.

“It’s simple. Just record which village needs how many laborers and when. You can write, right?”

“Ah, yes.”

Laerin nodded reflexively, and Natasha patted her shoulder and replied.

“Good. Then I’m counting on you.”

After that, Natasha hurried out the door.

Now Laerin was left alone in the audience chamber, having to listen to the villagers’ consultations without understanding the full context.