A Guide to Kingdom Building ( Me Reincarnated 365 x)

Tarsuria, Year of Severus, 18, I.R., the 63rd day of Spring, The Ardantean Strait

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The night just became merrier after the bombardiers celebrated with Commander Crovar's fleet.  The smell of roasted pork filled the air masking the stench of salt and blood lingering on the air. Ghwynmyr sipped his ale, sitting next to Urfaal and the rest of the bombardiers.

They were talking merrily, exchanging stories and jokes that most of the dwarven bombardiers found nostalgic. The rugged dwarves drank and ate with gusto along with their human brothers-in-arms. It was weird, yet a heartwarming moment for everyone involved. It was one of those peculiar moments were everyone sang, laughed and ate shoulder to shoulder, not counting their race nor rank.

Ghwynmyr looked at his other bombardiers laughing along side humans and recalled the good times he had with a human he was very fond of. He grinned and mumbled a wishful prayer for his kind friend, hoping he was well and alive, before chugging down the last contents of his ale.

"You seem to be too somber for tonight, do you?" Commander Crovar jabbed at Ghwynmyr.

Ghwynmyr chuckled. "Me just haffa wee recollection bout somethin' lad." He reached out his mug to Commander Crovar.

The young commander nodded, took his cup and poured him ale. "Here you go, old fellow! Another one!" He offered the cup back to him.

"My thanks, lad." Ghwynmyr raised his glass and drank it.

Commander Crovar moved closer to him, just enough for him to whisper. "He is safe, somewhere…"

Ghwynmyr scoffed. "Saying dat doesn't make it less worried fer'em."

"My men—" Commander Crovar tried to explain.

"Just knowing he's alive tis fine wit me." He took a glimpse at Urfaal. "Tis fine with us."

"I knew that night shouldn't have happened." The young commander answered.

"Which one? The guld'n light? Or dat scapegoatin' played on us?" Ghwynmyr took a sip from his cup.

"Would it matter if I say both?" Commander Crovar answered. "Arteria doesn't have the best record when it comes to subtlety and recognition." He sighed.

"Apparently, dat includes race and rank as well." Ghwynmyr clicked his tongue.

"Well, that's fucking Arteria for you." Commander Crovar said loudly.

Ghwynmyr immediately grabbed his arm and yanked him closer. "What're yah doin? Why ya shoutin it out loud?!"

"Nonesense!" Commander Crovar guffawed. "One way or another, my crew have been screwed up by this fucked up system…hick…"

"Yah drunk, lad." Ghwynmyr patted his back.

"Almost…but not quite." Commander Crovar smiled. "Wrap it up, boys! Tomorrow is a big day!"

The men cheered and raised their cups before ending the short, yet fun affair. As the rest of their crew went back to their ships, the bombardiers decided to camp at the island's jungle.

The night went deeper and deeper as they slept soundly under the stars. The cold sea breeze blew gently over them prickling their skin. Ghwynmyr doesn't hate the cold, but he found no love for it either. He woke up from another sea breeze. He stood up tingling as he looked for the nearest bush for him to devoid himself of last night's ale. He walked a few paces away until he found a good bush to pour his pee on.

After he finished, he went back to his bed when suddenly he heard rustling sounds coming from the bushes a few footlings away from him. He immediately rushed back to the camp and tried alerting his comrades.

When something came out from the bushes and tackled him to the ground. Ghwynmyr tumbled on the ground with the thing riding on him. The being was incredibly strong, it pinned him on the ground holding him by the wrist.

The darkness of the night didn't hinder Ghwynmyr from seeing his attacker, it was Arterian. The Principalian red vest over a silver mail and eagle logo at the center of the chest was without a doubt from their side of the war. However, something was different with it. It stank of death and decay.

Ghwynmyr could feel its cold, wet hands pressing harder on his wrist slowly shattering it.  He tried fighting back, but the monster was too strong. The creature leaned its head near his face, and it confirmed his suspicions. The creature had dead dull eyes and its face drooped from the long period of decay. Its teeth were slightly elongated as its gums retracted to its bone. Froth dripped from its mouth and the stench of death exhausted from its breath.

It has been such a long time since Ghwynmyr had seen these monstrosities. He recalled fighting the likes of it during the Battle of the Green Valleys when he was still once a rebel. It was an abhorrent creation said to have been created from the twisted mind of Siminus from the Crimson Legion, the Necromaton.

However, this Necromaton was different. It was far stronger and had more fluid movement compared to the ones he faced before. As the undead knight was about to bite his face off, a shadow suddenly came rushing in and kicked the Necromaton's head off its green rotting neck.

The headless body felt limped over him. Ghwynmyr immediately pushed the body off of him and hurriedly stood up. He looked up and to thank his savior and saw a confused Urfaal.

"D-did I just kicked his head off?" Urfaal's voice trembled. "Oh no! I killed a Arterian knight! Shit!"

"Lad, tis already dead." Ghwynmyr answered in relief.

"Yes! I just killed it!" The beastman was panicking. "Oh my!"

"Oy! Oy!" Ghwynmyr snapped his fingers. "Tis man WAS already dead!" He pointed at the corpse.

"Yes, I killed—" Urfaal pointed at the corpse when suddenly the lifeless body moved and stood up.

Ghwynmyr and Urfaal looked at each other, their eyes wide open in shock as the body rushed towards them, arms flailing. The beastman didn't waste his time and punched its undead body so hard, it exploded.

The chunk of dented armor fell on the ground along with vile rotten flesh and dark bodily fluids.

"What the…hell was that?!" Urfaal backed away.

"Yeah," Ghwynmyr took a deep breath. "What the hell wuzzat?! Dem shud've died when yah get 'em headless!"

"Why didn't it die when I did?!" Urfaal asked.

Ghwynmyr couldn't find any answer to that, and he also knew that it wasn't the only Necromaton there. He had a hunch that the shores might be filled with that already and it was only just a matter of time for them to get a full-blown attack from the undead.

"Warn 'em others!" He ordered his friend as he approached the dented armor.

He looked around and found a stick to poke the undead's armor with. He poked the chest piece and an aehterium ore rolled.

"Wut'z goin' on?" Ghwynmyr heard the bushes rattle once again.