23. The Child Who Looks at the Dead
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“Judging from the course of history, Emerald, the ancient green dragon of the southern forests, should be performing his blood sacrifice by now.”
Erian gazed toward the Emerald Mountains, lost in thought as he watched the lush green peaks veiled in mist.
“In the original course of history, the victims of Emerald’s ritual were the kobolds and goblins who had once served beneath him.”
“Now, I imagine he has replaced them with the three great orc clans that came seeking refuge.”
Erian knew that, following the original timeline, ten years from now the ancient dragon Emerald and his half-dragon legion would invade Eldoren’s territory.
That dragon lord would destroy and conquer nearly every surface settlement, slaughtering hundreds of thousands of human beings.
Yet the mage aristocrats in the floating city high above the heavens would continue to feast on fine wine and delicacies, utterly indifferent to the fall of the surface world and the deaths of its common people.
Some of the archmages would even enter into trade with the dragon lord, sharing with his half-dragon soldiers their own “advanced experience” in hunting and slaughtering the surface population.
These self-proclaimed noble mage aristocrats would savor the last glimmer of the Empire’s twilight during their banquets, raising cups and exchanging laughter, enjoying the final twenty years before the gates of the Abyss opened…
But now, history had long since strayed from its appointed path.
The green dragon Emerald had granted Eldoren ten years.
To a dragon, ten years was merely a long dream.
To humankind, however, it was the span of half a generation.
It was the entire length of youth, from tender childhood to the age of standing alone.
That amount of time would be enough for the first vast generation of mages from surface-dwelling commoner families to be born and grow to maturity within Eldoren!
…
During the period after driving away the orc tribes, Erian did not remain idle.
First, he led the mages in expelling more than a dozen goblin and kobold settlements within Eldoren that had repeatedly harassed human villages. These short, hideous monsters were driven into distant lands, ensuring the safety of Eldoren’s surface world once and for all.
At the same time, Erian instructed the mages to gather the countless orc corpses scattered across the mountains and plains. They selected those that remained relatively intact, piled them together, and buried them in deep pits for future use.
The remains of strong, robust humanoids, in astonishing numbers…
These were the richest spoils Eldoren had gained from the war to purge the orcs.
Collecting tens of thousands of corpses was, of course, an arduous undertaking.
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But the work itself could also be carried out by vast numbers of undead!
Every day, the villagers of the surface world witnessed the same scene:
Hundreds of orc skeletons and orc zombies marched past from the distant wilderness, dragging those lifeless corpses behind them. They dug deep pits and cast the remains inside.
Whenever this happened, villagers enjoying a lull in their farmwork and curious children would come running out to watch, filled with excitement.
It was proof of humanity’s victory!
On this particular day, Joseph, the magic teacher of Rolling Stone Village, brought the children from the school to gather outside the village gate and watch another “undead march”—
The dead who could move, carrying the dead who could not, proceeding onward along the road.
The children may have thought it was merely a spontaneous outing, but Joseph understood that watching the undead at work was an educational assignment issued by his superiors.
Though he did not know why the floating city had arranged such a task.
“Come to think of it, children, are you frightened by so many corpses?”
Teacher Joseph adjusted his gold-rimmed spectacles and looked kindly at the tender young boys and girls behind him.
“What is there to be afraid of?” Little Gret scratched his head and asked in puzzlement.
“When those vicious orcs were alive, I was certainly afraid of them!”
“But now that the orcs are dead, we ought to be happy.”
“That’s right.” Little Gret’s sister, Hilka, spoke excitedly as well.
“When Gret and I were still very young, our uncle was killed by those savage orcs. Even now, remembering it is terrifying!”
“But now all those hateful orcs are dead.”
“Even after dying, they still have to work for human mages and atone for the crimes they committed before!”
Teacher Joseph smiled with satisfaction. He suddenly began to understand why the authorities had assigned this lesson.
“Yes. Humanity won. We won. Eldoren won. This is the mark of our victory.”
For one brief moment, Joseph suddenly realized something he had previously overlooked—
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The mage aristocrats of Eldoren’s floating city had spent a century in peaceful surroundings, far removed from the noise and bloodshed of the surface. For the common people below, however, death and corpses were an everyday occurrence.
Most of the time, the bodies the children saw belonged to their own kind—to other human beings, to their relatives and neighbors.
If seeing the corpses of their fellow humans inspired a fearful sympathy, then when they saw the corpse of an orc—a creature utterly unlike a human being—the deep hatred humanity had accumulated toward orcs over the centuries, together with the immense pleasure brought by witnessing their deaths, would take the upper hand.
Joseph encouraged his students:
“My students, if one day the most outstanding among you not only becomes a mage, but surpasses me and reaches the rank of an intermediate mage…”
“Then you, too, will be able to command the undead and make the enemies who once tormented you serve you after death.”
The boys and girls grew excited at once, their eyes shining with eager anticipation.
“When I become a great mage, I’m going to turn those hateful goblins into skeletons and make them massage my back.”
“You’re one to talk! You pull my braids every day. When I become a powerful mage, I’ll dig up your grave and make you serve me tea and water.”
“Tch. Why would that matter? I’ll already be dead.”
“…”
Joseph simply smiled as he watched the boys and girls around him chatter back and forth, delighting in their dreams of the future.
That warm and harmonious scene appeared in the golden basin before Erian’s desk.
…
Inside the palace, Erian waved a hand and ended the scrying spell.
Ripples spread in widening circles across the basin, and the image faded away with them.
“Excellent. The time is ripe.”
“The people of Eldoren are gradually developing a positive view of necromancy and controlled undead!”
“We can begin the next, more important stage of the work.”
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