Chapter 42: Side Story 5 – The Fruits of One’s Labors

"These past two and a half years have gone by as if it was a dream for me. Even today, standing where I am, in triumph and celebration, I could scarcely believe that despite all odds, we had succeeded. We are no longer a group of rebels, but a legitimate nation of our own now.

 

Of course much credit had to be given to the Bone Lord's "Support", as he had apparently negotiated with our former overlords, to leave the rebellion to the forces within the region affected and no more, else he would throw his hand in more directly. Without that caveat, all of us would be nothing more than buried corpses, or worse, reanimated one back in the service of our former masters.

 

Instead, with his help we had stoked the fires of the rebellion until it engulfed both this region and the neighboring region. Village after village joined our cause after we showed them results in the form of the heads of the necromancers we had slain in our way, and much like our own their long oppressed souls rose up in anger and refused to cower any more.

 

Aoife… had passed herself off as a wandering assassin for hire from Ptolodecca, which helped disguise the handiwork of her pets as her own, and allowed her to be accepted more easily by our people. Only the few of us from that first night knew of her true nature, and we were not stupid enough to ever speak of it.

 

With her aid, the battles we fought were more chores than true battles, to put down directionless zombies and thralls running on their final orders, as she efficiently took out their controllers with the help of her pets. Lives were still lost, but they were few, and the triumphs we gained, just bolstered everyone to fight on and not let their sacrifice go to waste.

 

By the time we came to a halt and consolidated our gains, we were in possession of roughly one tenth of Antemeian land and one fifth of Junora, and it was there that we decided to raise our own country, named Vitalica after Vitalis, the deity of Life itself.

 

It still amuses me to name the country after a deity we had only begun to worship since the rebellion - in fact Aoife was the one who gave the idea since it would be good for morale to have another rallying cry - and even more absurd that everyone had chosen to raise a Theocracy in her worship on this land, with me as pope.

 

I just take the fact that so far there had been no smiting coming my way as the deity's approval, or that they just didn't really care either way." - Diary of Theodin Fiachna, First Pope of the Theocracy of Vitalica, circa 2 VA.

Ruins of Fiachnalis Village, formerly South-Western Junora, now central Vitalica, second day of the fourth week of the ninth month, year 2 VA.

 

As he looked at the ruins of his former village - it had been sacked shortly after the start of the rebellion, as they had evacuated for a different village and fought as guerillas for a while after that fateful night - and the new construction that took place where it once stood, Theodin felt glad that he had buried his daughter in the woods instead of the local cemetery, which had been ransacked, with the dead bodies exhumed by the angered necromancers.

 

Plans were underway to clear the woods and build a new cemetery around where he had buried his little Aideen, as the new city they planned for their capital - named La Fiachna after their old village no less - would be a far larger place than the old village had been.

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In the distance he saw how both his sons flirted with Aoife as they helped build a large house intended to be their own residence. He had never expected it, but over the years, the young necromancer had gotten quite close to his sons, and now the twin brothers were vying with one another to be the one she chose.

 

He shook his head at the absurdity of the thought, which would have never even crossed his mind as little as three years ago. But then again, three years ago he was a serf who acted as a village head, and now, he stood as the freshly ordained leader of a nascent nation.

 

Of the small group of twelve that had met with Aoife on that fateful night years ago, eight survived the battles they had been through. Since that time they had also secretly shared the news with a few others, most of whom took the news with bafflement and reluctance, while a few seemed downright appalled by it.

 

Despite the sincerity she had shown them over these years, just the fact that she too, was a necromancer was enough to make some people balk at her presence. Theodin and his sons still tried to find a solution to this problem, but had not found any as of yet.

 

He sighed, and shook his head at the vagaries of youth, while he himself returned to supervising the construction of the grand chapel, which the people had insisted on building as soon as possible.

 

The future now lay before him, with all its unknown possibilities, and Theodin Fiachna, intended to grab them as they arrived. He dreamed of a nation where everybody can be happy together… perhaps even the necromancers as well.

 

Aoife had said that her master had interest in maintaining friendly relations, but that they would have to maintain their connection a relative secret for the time being. He understood why. Many of his people had just escaped the yoke of necromancers, and to openly cavort with another, would have been beyond bad publicity for the time being. Maybe as the years go by he might one day be able to come clean about how they came to be, about the aid they had received.

 

But for now, that is but a matter of consideration, as more immediate matters, like rebuilding their homes, take priority for them.

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