Tybalt, Mariella, and Vidalia stepped out of the gulch.

  Both women clung to Tybalt, and an air of satisfaction hung around all three. Mariella’s fingers were interlaced with Tybalt’s as if they had just been on a romantic outing, while Vidalia had her arm looped around Tybalt’s on the other side and wagged her tail as she walked, occasionally looking up at Tybalt’s face with a sultry expression as if thinking about the next encounter.

  “Are the three of you finished, um, breeding?” Kistana asked. She was standing at the entrance of the gulch alongside the two mummies, and she turned to look at Tybalt, Vidalia and Mariella as they emerged.

  The catgirl wore as close to a neutral expression as she could, but her cute features were slightly twisted in a look of mild discomfort. Her cheeks were slightly pink, as if she was embarrassed by what she’d heard. Tybalt felt a little bit bad. She was clearly innocent.

  She will have to get used to that, though.

  “We weren’t—” began Mariella, reddening.

  “You don’t need to lie,” Kistana interrupted. “There is nothing shameful. His Holiness selected you as his mates. By copulating with him, you help ensure the future of his line.”

  Mariella buried her face in Tybalt’s chest, almost paralyzed by embarrassment.

  “Copulating… um, I…”

  “Nothing we did in there was for procreation,” Tybalt said, looking the catgirl in the eye as his left hand reached up and stroked Mariella’s hair. “It was more… recreation and bonding.”

  “Yeah, but you are eventually going to breed us,” Vidalia said, looking amused at Mariella’s reddened face still hidden in Tybalt’s chest. “We’ll try to make sure it’s as recreational as possible, but you’re not getting out of it.”

  “Who said I wanted to?” Tybalt replied, giving Vidalia a raised eyebrow. He turned back to Kistana. “Anyway, most of the time, people engage in sexual activities for those reasons I gave rather than expecting a baby.”

  “That is… not what I was taught,” the catgirl murmured. “Or what I have heard of.”

  “Then I feel sorry for the women of the cat tribe,” the necromancer replied bluntly.

  Time to introduce the concept of recreational sex, I guess. Not something I signed up to do, but you don’t always choose what you’re called on to accomplish. At least I feel well equipped for the job.

  “Yeah, Tybalt takes good care of us,” Vidalia said, reaching around to squeeze his waist fondly and smacking her tail against his ass in an obviously non-accidental way.

  “Well, it was no concern of mine,” Kistana mumbled, quietly embarrassed. “Perhaps I’ve misunderstood.”

  “Why would it be no concern of yours?” Mariella asked, poking her head out from Tybalt’s chest and frowning.

  “Isn’t it obvious enough?” the catgirl asked, visibly irritated.

  “Our ways aren’t your ways,” Tybalt said in a slightly stern voice. “Please remember that, and don’t assume that what’s obvious to you is obvious to us if we ask questions. We’re not stupid, but many of your customs are unusual to us.”

  “Um, my apologies, my lord,” Kistana said, deflating. “Can we please forget about it? I should really focus on escorting you home, anyway. Not ungratefully airing out every grievance I ever conceived against the people who raised me.” She pointed up at the sky. “Sunset comes more quickly than you expect at this time of year, and I prefer for Your Holiness not to be out of shelter in the darkness if it’s not absolutely necessary. If my preferences as your bodyguard matter at all.”

  I can tell this is going to come up again, Tybalt thought. Whatever this thing is that she wants us to forget about.

  “Very well,” he said. “But you don’t need to call me that. Either ‘Your Holiness’ or ‘my lord.’ Just Tybalt is just fine, especially when we’re on our own. Maybe Lord Tybalt in front of others. Everyone in the beastfolk tribes has been calling me ‘Lord Necromancer,’ but maybe we’ll get along better if you’re less formal. I’m not an Elder, and I’m not actually ruler of a territory, which is how you get to be called a lord where I grew up. I’m in the place I’m in now, because Lord Mudo put me there. He decided to entrust me with the High Priest role and two classes. It’s not because I’m of high birth.”

  “I have at least twice heard the human woman call you ‘my lord,’” Kistana said, creasing her forehead. “Even if you don’t feel you have properly earned the title of ‘Your Holiness’ yet…”

  “She’s not doing it because it’s a proper form of address for me,” Tybalt said. “Where we’re from, I’m not lord of anything. Mariella calls me that because—”

  “Tybalt!” Mariella whined a little and buried her face in his chest again so that Kistana could not see how flushed she was. “Come on…”

  “She calls me that because it pleases her to do so,” Tybalt finished, unable to keep himself from an amused smile.

  Mariella groaned quietly into Tybalt’s pectorals.

  “Uh huh,” Kistana said skeptically. “And… you said you have two classes?”

  “Defiant necromancer and pestilence mage,” Tybalt said.

  The two mummies stirred for the first time in response to what Tybalt said.

  “Lord Mudo has become exceptionally generous recently,” William sent through the telepathic bond.

  This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

  “I think our god is getting a bit desperate,” Edgard sent at the same time.

  “Perhaps,” Tybalt replied to both. “I don’t pretend to fully understand Lord Mudo’s ways.”

  “Pestilence, huh?” the catgirl said, wrinkling her nose.

  “Whatever power brings our enemies despair,” Vidalia said.

  That seemed to shift Kistana’s thinking on the subject. Her lips curled in a tiny smile that vanished in an instant, and she nodded.

  “Disease is a great source of despair,” the catgirl said in a quiet, slightly pensive voice. Perhaps that was just Tybalt reading into her feelings. “Anyway, we should go.”

  The necromancer nodded, and the group started walking again. The mummies, Kistana, and Mariella were definitely capable of keeping him from any harm that might happen past sunset, but there was no reason to take pointless risks with their safety.

  The sun had set by the time they got back, and the family had eaten dinner without them, since Vidalia had told them to expect that she, Tybalt, and Mariella might be back late.

  But there were still leftovers for the four arrivals.

  They ate the food cold, while Tybalt quickly explained the new situation with Kistana to Uncle Edmund.

  The catgirl looked like she wanted to speak, but aside from a muttered “Thank you” directed at all the fox beastfolk—apparently for the food—she let Tybalt do the talking for her.

  Uncle Edmund was pleased that they had a new guest, especially from the tribe that mostly kept to themselves, and impressed that Tybalt had won their trust so quickly. But the foxman seemed a bit embarrassed that he had to request she share sleeping space with the twins. There would barely be room for the three women to turn around.

  “I’m all right sleeping outside,” Kistana said indifferently. “Catfolk are bred to be tough.”

  “You shouldn’t be sleeping outside unless I am, even if it is more crowded than we would prefer,” the necromancer interjected before Uncle Edmund could respond. He turned to the foxman. “And I apologize for the sudden burden on your hospitality. With your consent, I will ask a few of my undead to construct an addition onto your home. At the same time that I have a couple of them start laying the foundations for my own, so that I can be out of your hair soon.”

  “Thank you, Lord Necromancer,” said Uncle Edmund, bowing his head. He had been treating Tybalt with a lot of deference ever since the necromancer woke up, much to Vidalia’s quiet delight. It was undoubtedly partially the fact that Tybalt’s undead were providing the household with a regular supply of animals hunted from up the mountain, which had changed their diet from bare subsistence to something much richer. The other half of it was probably mainly Tybalt’s heroism in the village from days prior, with his generally good manners and respectful attitude making up the rest of the cause.

  “Yes, thank you,” Victoria said with a hint of a smile.

  The necromancer gave her a nod and returned her little smile before he turned back to Uncle Edmund.

  “By the way, is it all right if Mariella and I borrow Vidalia for a while after dinner?” Tybalt asked. “We have something we were discussing doing this morning. We would need her help.”

  He sensed the foxman’s hesitation before Uncle Edmund opened his mouth.

  “While you were asleep, Lord Necromancer, I know she tended to you night and day,” he began. “But there are codes of behavior, of, um, propriety, that we tend to follow in ordinary life—”

  “Sir, I swear on my life that I will do nothing inappropriate with her tonight,” Tybalt said firmly. “We will be in the same hut as you. If I break my word, do with me whatever you consider fitting.”

  “I didn’t mean to accuse you,” Uncle Edmund said mildly. “And I can tell whatever you need her for must be important…” He hemmed and hawed a bit before agreeing.

  The conversation moved on from there to plans for the next few days.

  After dinner, Tybalt excused himself from the others for a while to meditate and check on his other undead. It was already dark outside, and he knew he had limited time, so he acted efficiently.

  The new undead he had raised were chopping down trees in preparation for building Tybalt a house, or they were doing the simple, tedious work of keeping Tybalt’s prisoners from the mining outpost alive—feeding them just enough food, giving them just enough water, that they would be ready for the necromancer when he spent some more time experimenting with his craft. The others were training and hunting. Tybalt could feel his force slowly growing stronger with little direct involvement by him required.

  He gave more refined instructions to some of his creatures and then focused inward, on managing the energies that ran through his own body. His recovery had been slower than it otherwise would have been during his induced sleep, because his necromantic and pestilence powers fought his body’s natural healing and the concentrated health elixir at every turn. That tendency in his mana was something he still had to tame, little by little.

  After around an hour, Mariella and Vidalia found him for the evening’s activities.

  “Are you ready?” Mariella asked a little nervously. “We can wait to do it until later if you have more necromancer business to take care of.”

  “I’m ready,” Tybalt said, rising to his feet. “The two of you can lead the way.” He sensed Mariella’s nervousness and placed a reassuring hand on her hip. “This will work out for the best, even if we don’t get the outcome we like.”

  She turned, stood up on her tiptoes, and kissed him deeply for several seconds.

  “Thank you,” she said. “It probably won’t work out the way I want it to, but… I appreciate you helping me gather the courage to do what needs to be done.”

  The three of them entered the hut and moved past the others, to Tybalt and Mariella’s sleeping space.

  They all laid down together and closed their eyes, and Vidalia wrapped her arms around both Tybalt and Mariella.

  The necromancer didn’t know it at the moment when the foxgirl touched them with her power. He only recognized what had happened when he found himself in a wide open field.

  Ahead of him, he saw a small lake—barely more than a pond, really—and a family. There were two women standing on the shore, not far from himself, Mariella, and Vidalia. One of the women resembled an older version of Mariella. The other looked tougher but still feminine. The two were watching a gaggle of young children playing. And standing in the water, Tybalt saw a man, a boy who looked to be around eight years old, and a young teenaged version of Mariella.

  The trio were fishing with nets and small harpoons. They looked like they were having fun together.

  As Tybalt and adult Mariella watched this scene, they were holding hands. The necromancer’s attention was pulled back from the sight in front of him by his lover squeezing his hand.

  He turned to her and saw her eyes were filled with tears.

  “His happiest memory,” she said. “Dad used to say that day was his favorite memory to revisit. I guess he wasn’t lying. Now I’m going to spoil it.”

  “Hey, you’re going to be great,” Tybalt said. He squeezed Mariella’s hand back.

  “Probably a good idea to use this dream to introduce him to Tybalt,” Vidalia reminded her. “You’ll want to get lost down memory lane, but try to remember.” She smiled sympathetically. “For what it’s worth, he’s pretty good at dealing with parental figures, from my experience.”

  The necromancer smiled, leaned down, and kissed the two women in turn.

  “Good luck,” Tybalt said.

  Mariella let go of his hand and approached her father.