Chapter 347: Reclamation

The room remained tense. The twelve men who currently controlled Harrowhold stared at Daroin as though he had just insulted them inside their own home.

A few of them laughed. One man stood up, swaying slightly from the wine, and gestured toward the heavy wooden doors.

"You should leave before we decide to make you regret coming here."

Darion looked at the twelve men. Then at Marrick. Then back at them. He wasn’t particularly impressed. These were the men who had been enjoying themselves while the territory they supposedly governed struggled under their control. And now they were arrogant enough to threaten him without even knowing who he was.

Darion sighed. "Alright."

One of the men smirked, leaning heavily on the table. "Alright what?"

Darion answered calmly. "You had your chance."

Darion raised one hand.

Green necromantic energy suddenly erupted across the room, illuminating the drunken faces of the governors in a sickly, terrifying glow. The twelve men froze. One of them took a step backward, his chair scraping loudly against the stone floor.

"What—?"

BOOM!

Undead warriors materialized throughout the room. They appeared behind the governors. Beside the doors. Between the tables. Around Darion and Marrick.

The men stared at them in disbelief. They had seen Darion walk into the room with no visible army. Now the room was suddenly filled with armed, silent undead. One governor’s face went pale as a ghost.

"Necromancer..." he whispered.

Darion didn’t answer. He simply gave the command. "Kill them."

The undead moved.

The first governor barely had time to draw his sword. An undead knight closed the distance and knocked the weapon aside with a deafening CLANG! Another governor tried to escape through the side of the room, but an undead blocked him. He turned, only to find another undead already behind him.

The room erupted into absolute chaos. Chairs overturned. Tables were shoved aside, spilling wine and food across the stone. Cups and bottles crashed onto the floor, shattering into a thousand pieces. The governors screamed and desperately tried to defend themselves.

But they were twelve men who had spent their time drinking and enjoying themselves rather than preparing for a fight. Against trained undead warriors, they stood no chance.

One man swung his sword wildly at an undead knight. The blade struck its rusted armor and glanced off harmlessly. The undead barely reacted. The governor’s eyes widened in pure terror. Before he could swing again, the undead grabbed him by the collar and threw him across the room like a ragdoll.

Another governor attempted to attack Darion directly. Marrick instinctively stepped backward. Darion didn’t even move. An undead intercepted the man, a brutal strike sending him crashing into a heavy oak table, breaking it in half.

Darion watched calmly. Within moments, the resistance collapsed. One after another, the twelve governors were killed. The room fell silent. The only sounds left were the heavy breathing of the surviving Harrowhold warriors and the soft footsteps of the undead.

Darion looked around. It was over.

He looked at the bodies. Something about the whole situation bothered him. There were only twelve men. And they were clearly terrible rulers. So why hadn’t the warriors of Harrowhold simply overthrown them?

Darion looked toward the armed men gathered around the room. Many of them were now staring at him. He realized the answer. This world didn’t work the way Earth did. Power wasn’t simply about having a group of armed men who could decide to overthrow whoever they disliked.

They needed a legitimate ruler. They needed someone with authority. Someone who could actually take responsibility for the territory afterward. And Harrowhold’s actual ruler had been captured. Without that ruler, the warriors had effectively been left under the authority of whoever currently controlled the castle.

Going against their new rulers would have meant more problems from an already ’more powerful than them Vrethka.’

Darion understood. ’So they were basically stuck.’ He looked at the warriors again. Their expressions were changing. They were no longer afraid of the governors. They were looking at Darion.

One of the Harrowhold warriors stepped forward. He dropped to one knee. "Thank you."

Darion looked at him.

The warrior lowered his head. "You saved us."

Another warrior followed. "We thought we would be trapped under them forever."

Others began speaking. Some thanked Darion for killing the governors. Others explained how the men had taken control after Harrowhold’s ruler was captured. They had been forced to follow orders because there was nobody else to lead them.

Darion raised a hand.

The room quieted.

Darion turned toward Marrick. Marrick stood there almost frozen. The weight of what was happening finally began to sink in.

Darion addressed the warriors. "This man is Marrick." The warriors looked at him. "He is the rightful king of Harrowhold."

Marrick’s expression changed.

Darion continued. "From this moment onward, he will govern this territory." He paused. "You will answer to him."

The warriors exchanged glances. No one objected.

Darion added that Marrick was not simply being handed the throne without responsibility. "He was taken from this land. He was imprisoned. And he has returned." Darion looked toward Marrick. "Now he gets to decide what happens to Harrowhold."

Several warriors kneeled. Then more followed.

Marrick looked overwhelmed.

Once the situation was settled, Darion decided he needed to return to Vrethka. He didn’t want to remain away for too long. Vrethka was still newly conquered. There were matters there that needed his attention. He also needed to eventually bring Garren over and establish a proper system of administration.

Darion turned to Marrick. "I’ll be back."

Marrick nodded. "Alright."

Darion started to walk away. Then...

"M’lord?"

Darion stopped. He turned around. "Yes?"

Marrick hesitated. He looked almost embarrassed by what he was about to ask. "Can I..." He paused. "...hug you?"

Darion blinked. He hadn’t expected that. He shrugged. "Sure."

Marrick immediately walked over and hugged him. Darion stood there for a moment, slightly surprised. Then he gave Marrick a brief pat on the back.

"I’ll be back soon," Darion said. "Then we’ll actually sit down and discuss everything properly."

Marrick pulled away and nodded. "Okay."

Darion gave him one final look. "Take care of your kingdom."

Marrick nodded. "I will."

Darion left the building. He summoned no undead this time. The warriors had already seen what he was capable of. There was no reason to intimidate them further. Once outside, he reached the location where he left the horse. Edric Vorne was still there, waiting beside it. He returned it to his inventory.

Darion climbed onto the horse. Before leaving, he looked back toward Harrowhold. Marrick was now standing inside the castle, surrounded by the warriors who had accepted him. A king once again had a kingdom.

Darion turned the horse around. Vrethka was waiting. He rode away from Harrowhold, leaving Marrick to begin his reign.