The rest of the day continued to be downright bizarre.

  There were goblins. There were bears. There were zombie trolls from the Blue Mountains dungeon. There were yetis… hell, even giant ants and that bone dragon. Plus all kinds of skeletons from forest creatures. And somehow, they all lived in peace and harmony.

  Vincent rubbed his eyes several times, seriously wondering if he was asleep.

  From Ronan, well, he kind of expected it. You could expect anything from Ronan. But from Bianca… Was his sweet betrothed really taking in starving goblins like someone taking in a stray puppy? And building them an underground settlement practically with her own hands. Ronan had made sure to tell him about the stone bricks.

  In any case, the female goblins fed him, their chief introduced himself, and Ronan spent the rest of the day handling settlement tasks and bringing Vincent along to show him what he did.

  “As soon as Bianca gets here, we need to talk,” the prince repeated. “I don’t want you to think I approve of this, or that I’m volunteering to help you.”

  Because Ronan had included him from the very first moment, as if Vincent were someone who, in the future, might also take on those organizational and leadership tasks.

  In truth, Vincent was playing along not just to hear what Bianca had to say before making any decisions, but also because he recognized Ronan’s military value. Ronan was a man capable of facing an entire army and winning. Hell, even of winning without being there at all. That was why his father, the king, had asked him to win Ronan over as either an ally or a valuable vassal to the kingdom.

  Of course, to him Ronan was first and foremost a friend; that didn’t change the deep respect he had for him.

  When it was time to sleep, he lay down on some furs in the main cave, near his friend and a campfire. He’d just fallen asleep when Ronan woke him, both with his voice and light taps on his shoulder.

  “Vincent, can you arm yourself?”

  Vincent opened his eyes and found the necromancer standing beside him, looking at the pile he’d made a few hours earlier with his armor and weapons.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Gear up fast. They are attacking Clearhaven.”

  “What?

  That was the border village with the small teleportation portal. Where those kids were.

  He rushed to put on his plate armor and grab his sword and shield.

  “Hold on tight. We are going fast,” Ronan told him once he was ready and outside the cave, where two skeleton stags awaited them, along with three wolves with white fur and glassy yellow eyes.

  Vincent didn’t even have time to remember why those wolves looked familiar. The moment he mounted the stag, it leaped forward and broke into a wild gallop, weaving between trees and jumping whenever needed to avoid obstacles.

  “Ronan, do you want me to arrive in any shape to fight?” Vincent shouted.

  But Ronan didn’t hear him, so he concentrated on staying on and keeping the rising nausea from taking over.

  Within minutes, they reached the human settlement. From the edge of the forest, where the stags slowed to a stop, the two friends looked out over the village

  Or what was left of it.

  The wooden palisade still stood in some sections, but large stretches had been torn away or reduced to splinters. The gate, broken in two, hung crookedly from a single hinge. The corpses of the two guards who had been watching it lay on the ground, one of them missing an arm.

  Inside, several houses were burning, sending columns of dark smoke into the sky.

  Vincent froze for a moment while Ronan dismounted. He was horrified. He had seen death in dungeons, almost always creatures, rarely humans, and never on this scale. It was a massacre.

  Corpses were scattered across the ground: fallen farmers with tools still clutched in their hands, soldiers from the detachment with broken shields and useless spears. Some bodies bore clear signs of desperate struggle. Others had fallen while trying to flee. The earth itself was churned up, trampled, and stained by violence. Among the dead, the few green-skinned bodies made it clear to Vincent that the enemy were orcs.

  There was still the sound of fighting, steel clashing against steel. There had to be survivors.

  Vincent snapped out of it and dismounted.

  “They are holding out at the town hall. The remaining soldiers are protecting it,” Ronan told him as he started moving in that direction, the three wolves flanking him.

  Vincent assumed Ronan’s undead were the ones who had alerted him to the attack and were now feeding him information.

  Then a deep roar echoed from deeper inside the village.

  If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  “There.”

  With a simple gesture and that single word, Ronan sent his wolves toward the sound of fighting. At the same time, he broke into a run. Vincent followed.

  They pushed through corpses—some of them orcs—and burning buildings until they reached one of the houses near the portal square. There, a group of green-skinned creatures dressed in studded leather and armed with swords, spears, and axes were fighting something smaller.

  Vincent couldn’t quite see what it was at first.

  Then he got closer.

  It was the dog. The one Ronan had left with that family.

  Its skeletal body was covered in damage. Chunks of ribs were missing, and one of its hind legs was broken. Even so, it held its ground, growling ferociously. Every time one of the orcs advanced, the dog lunged without hesitation, biting ankles and sinking its fangs in with suicidal determination.

  Its movements had a speed and strength unheard of, even for Ronan’s skeletal creatures.

  Then one of the orcs struck it with the back of his weapon. The dog was sent flying into the ground and still got back up, limping, placing itself once more between the monsters and whoever was inside the house. Probably the children.

  It didn’t back down

  “Mike,” Ronan murmured as a dark flare began forming in his hands.

  He didn’t make it in time. Vincent, sword raised, didn’t either

  The axe of one of the orcs struck the dog in the back. Missing a leg and unable to dodge properly, it couldn’t avoid the blow meant for its head. What followed was a stomp, aimed straight at its skull.

  It never landed.

  Before that, the dog exploded.

  A blast of dark mana Vincent couldn’t see, but whose effects were unmistakable. Of the five orcs trying to finish it off, the three closest were torn apart, their remains slamming violently against the wooden walls. The other two were left alive, though badly wounded.

  Mike wasn’t a living being, but Vincent felt a surge of rage at having arrived too late. Its loyalty was no different from that of any dog he’d known at the palace. If anything, it was even greater.

  With a flare of darkness, Ronan struck one of the remaining orcs. Vincent cut down the other, catching him off guard. They finished them quickly, and Ronan pushed the house door open.

  Nothing remained of the dog but shattered bone fragments.

  Inside were the boy, his mother, and several other children. There was no sign of the father or any other adult.

  “Mike?” the boy asked through tears.

  Not seeing it through the doorway, he wrenched himself free from his mother’s arms and ran toward the entrance, searching for it.

  He froze on the spot when he saw the shattered remnants of its bones.

  Vincent’s heart clenched. They had given the boy a guardian and a friend, and now he would have to live with the sacrifice Mike had made for him.

  The mother was still in shock, unable to process that the skeleton dog, Ronan, and Vincent had just saved their lives.

  The boy cried inconsolably.

  “Do not worry. Mike is fine,” Ronan said gently as he approached and placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder, guiding him back

  “Come with me,” he ordered his canine companion, channeling more mana to fully restore its bones.

  The soul, of course, he anchored back to the body.

  When the boy saw it happen, he hugged the dog crying in relief.

  “Look, Mom. Mike’s okay,” he said.

  The woman stood up from where she’d been sitting on the floor, clutching the children.

  “Thank you so much,” she told Ronan.

  “Mike will protect you until we return. Vincent.”

  “Yes.”

  They left the house, closing the door behind them, and hurried toward the town hall. Their help was no longer needed.

  “That dog… did it have something special?” Vincent asked as they walked.

  “He was a very good boy. Very affectionate.”

  Vincent was about to reply, but they ran into an orc and had to stop. The prince blocked its strike with his shield while the necromancer cast a spell, extending his fingers toward the enemy. The orc froze as life drained from him, his skin shriveling into something like parchment.

  They left the corpse behind and continued until they reached the stone town hall.

  There were wolves. A lot of wolves.

  Not the three massive ones Ronan had brought, but at least three dozen more of a more natural size, with glowing blue eyes.

  “They are alphas from the Blue Mountains dungeon,” Vincent murmured in awe as he realized it.

  Ronan’s power had grown considerably. A bone dragon. Alpha wolves that retained their abilities and spells even after death.

  Only a handful of soldiers were still alive. They were finishing off the remaining orcs the wolves had brought down.

  “Well done,” Ronan addressed his creatures. “Check that there are no living enemies left in the village or its surroundings.”

  The wolves scattered instantly in all directions.

  “Thank you for your help, Ronan,” one of the soldiers said, approaching him. He seemed to know him.

  He extended a hand, and Ronan shook it.

  “Do you have a healer for the wounded?” Vincent asked.

  “Inside,” the soldier said, pointing toward the town hall.

  “We need to help the wounded. And notify my father.”

  “Your father?

  “I am Vincent Draycott.”

  “Your Highness,” the soldier snapped to attention, followed by the others who had survived and defended the civilians sheltering inside.

  “Vincent,” Ronan said, stopping him. “Inform them, but help will not be necessary. You and I are going to deal with those orcs. I know where their settlement is. It is beyond this kingdom’s border.”

  “You and I…?” Vincent began, startled.

  Of course. Him, Ronan, and his entire battalion of undead. That’d be more than enough.

  “Your Highness?” the soldier asked.

  “Yes. Send someone through the portal to inform them. Say the threat has already been eliminated. I’ll give a full report when I return.”

  “Yes, Your Highness.

  As the soldiers moved to tend to the wounded and the wolves finished off the last of the orcs, Vincent walked with Ronan back toward the house with the children.

  “How many orcs are there?” he asked.

  “Do not worry about that. They will not pose any threat. Bianca and I were aware of their presence. What I did not expect was for them to attack a human village.

  “Where are they?”

  “In the mountain pass connecting your kingdom with Daertyle. In no man’s land.

  “Isn’t the access steep and snowy? They’ll have an easy time ambushing us.

  Vincent knew the geography of his kingdom and its borders well. It was going to be a difficult battle. Still, Ronan seemed unconcerned.

  “Or so they will think.”

  Vincent shrugged. He’d see soon enough.

  For now, Ronan knocked on the door with his knuckles so as not to frighten anyone. The dog barked happily in response.

  Ronan stepped inside and petted his undead friend’s head as the dog wagged its bony tail.

  “You did very well,” he told him. “As a reward, do you want to remain as bone, or would you prefer zombie flesh?”

  Mike barked excitedly at the second option. Ronan carefully separated his soul and stored it away as the bones collapsed to the floor. From a small pool of darkness, a zombie hound with brown fur emerged, almost indistinguishable from a living dog except for its glassy eyes.

  “Mike!” the boy cried, half scared and half joyful, running forward to hug him

  Moments later, the father burst in, reuniting with his family and showering the necromancer, the prince, and the hound with gratitude.

  Vincent thought the dog had earned a permanent place in that family’s hearts… and Ronan the affection of the entire village.