Isaac reckoned it was best to wait until nightfall to rob graves, so they made their way to the Black Tongue's campsite a couple of miles northwest of the mausoleum. It was an hour's walk, made two hours thanks to Tommy's perpetual sea legs and his stiff refusal to be carried. By the time they arrived, the sun was still a few hours from setting, and the cultists were due a short break.
Tommy stood in front of an old oak tree, booklet of black magic in his left hand. "Godless flames," he whispered, right palm facing forward.
A stream of purple flames shot from his hand like water from a hose, meeting the tree's bark in a brilliant show of light. In mere seconds, the great hunk of bark and wood was enveloped by the strange-colored fire then reduced to a pile of smoking ash.
The cultists sitting behind him clapped at his performance, awe written upon their faces. Isaac seemed particularly impressed judging by his face-splitting grin.
"Lord Bones," came one of the cultists—a man with sunken cheeks and sallow skin. "Could I trouble you with a question?"
Isaac's grin shifted into a severe frown. "Do not speak to Lord Bones unless spoken to, you—"
"Please, it's quite alright, Isaac," Tommy said, holding a hand up. "You are all my disciples. As such, you are permitted to speak to me whenever you'd like to."
The young man seemed relieved. He gulped his saliva and carried on: "My brothers and I are curious about the dark blade spell. History books say that in the Battle of Midwinter, you slew hundreds of men with it, fighting shoulder-to-shoulder with your dark legions. Is it true?"
"It was a bold move—one that inspired fear in my enemy's hearts," Tommy bluffed.
"Can you show us?" he begged.
"Of course." He outstretched his arm and curled his fingers, praying it would work. "Dark blade."
A sword appeared in his hand, accompanied by purple faux sparks and the noise of screeching metal. It was colossal, fit to be wielded by two hands rather than one. Dark magic formed every part of it, rendering it wholly black from pommel to point.
The cultists gasped and inched forward to get a closer look.
It felt nice being an all-powerful magic skeleton, he'd admit. The whole not-having-skin thing was a downside, but it was an acceptable loss. Oh, that and he'd, more than likely, never get to see his friends or family again. That was bad too. Still a good trade for magic powers.
He held the blade low for the cultists to see, allowing them a few minutes of appraising before he dispelled it. "Did the history books speak of any other spells I made use of?"
"They say you conjured a giant hand to destroy a cliff your enemies were camping on!"
"And that you resurrected fallen enemy commanders just to kill them again in front of their own men!"
Yeesh, that's brutal. First the Mana Purge, now this. Why were these people following him if they thought he did this stuff? Their morality had to be at least a little cockeyed.
"What about the names of these spells?" Tommy pressed.
The name of a spell seemed to be the most important part. Without knowing it, the spell was just an abstract—practically useless. Was it like that for everyone, or was he special?
"Well, most books purposefully omit the names of dark spells to keep mages from seeking to learn how to cast them," answered a dark-skinned man with a scruffy beard.
Seeking to learn how to cast them. That meant the name itself wasn't the sole requirement for casting a spell; a magic caster still needed to learn how it worked.
Tommy turned to Isaac. "How long would it take you to learn how to cast dark blade?"
"If I had a good teacher or a detailed book, I'd say no more than a month," Isaac replied. "I am sure I wouldn't have enough mana to cast it, though."
So, why didn't he need to learn spells? Was it because his body was already familiar with them? That seemed the only logical explanation as of yet. No point in looking a gift horse in the mouth, though.
"We still have a few hours before nightfall. You should all get some rest," Tommy ordered.
"Yes, Lord Bones," they chorused.
It was a delightful few hours of trying out spells before the moon showed itself. He wagered he now had over fifty new ones in his arsenal, their names memorized like flash cards. The most useful of them all was a transmutation spell called mold earth. It worked exactly as it did in Dungeons and Dragons, so digging up graves would prove easy.
"Are you ready to depart, my lord?" asked Isaac.
"Only a few of us need to go. Can you select three others to accompany us?"
"Of course. I know three fit for the task," he said with a smile. "Luca, Alice, and Finn—you will be accompanying Lord Bones and me on this trip. I need not stress how important it is that we remain undetected."
The three stepped forward. "Yes, Master Isaac."
Luca was a boy of scant years and short stature, boasting a tan, handsome face and a thin mustache. To his side was Finn—a man with six feet of height and a lean physique, equipped with a nasty scar that stretched from jaw to left brow.
Tommy felt he had ogled Alice enough for today, so he kept his nonexistent eyes from her. "Can any of you use the mold earth spell?" he asked.
"They all can, my lord, as can I," said Isaac.
"Very impressive," Tommy praised. "I will cast greater invisibility upon each of us. We will exhume the bodies by molding the earth, then I will raise them as knights. Does everyone understand the plan?"
"Yes, Lord Bones," the four said.
"Then let us depart. Isaac, lead the way."
The Grand Cemetery of Newhorn was just over an hour's walk from the campsite. Due to fear of disease, it was built a great distance from the city itself, isolated near a spooky thicket and brook. Isaac reported that the recent plague resulted in a scarcity of cemetery workers, so their chance of being caught was negligible at best.
"Greater invisibility, greater invisibility, greater invisibility, greater invisibility," Tommy droned, casting the spell on himself and his three stooges. "Let's go."
The delinquent quartet elected to start at the back of the cemetery, scaling the short, rickety fence lining its perimeter.
"Mold earth," Tommy whispered, pointing a palm at a mossy tombstone.
Six feet' worth of dirt threw itself into a neat, rectangular pile in a matter of seconds, revealing a lanky skeleton with yellowed bones. It had been buried for quite some time, so nobody would miss it. Probably.
"Raise bone knight."
Black mist surrounded the skeleton's bones, dressing them in rusted chainmail and plate armor with the noise of soft clinking. A longsword sprung into existence in a sheathe at its hip with a quiet schwing and finally, a visored helmet was set around its skull.
Tommy smirked at the sight of it. Or, at least, he tried to.
"Bone knight—go wait in the forest. I'll come to retrieve you in a little bit."
The bone knight groaned and rose to its feet, then climbed out of the grave and made its way to the forest.
Hopefully, the little guy wouldn't go too far. He still needed to find him, after all.
His invisible goons had each exhumed a grave, so he went to each of them and rose the skeletons as bone knights.
"Raise bone knight, raise bone knight, raise bone knight," he whispered, rejoicing as his new minions crawled from their resting places. "I command you to find your brother in the forest. Hurry."
They moved with exceptional speed for mere skeletons. He wondered just how skilled with a blade they might be. Perhaps he could stage a mock fight between two of them; his cult would surely enjoy that.
The four of them spent over an hour in the cemetery, digging up graves and raising them as knights. By the time they had gained nearly a hundred new bony minions, Tommy felt as though a hundred buckets' worth of mana had been scooped from his reserves—a trivial amount, but still something to note.
How exactly did this body's previous inhabitant manage to collect so much mana in the first place? Could it have been from all the magic casters he slaughtered during the Mana Purge? Yet another question for later.
"Lord Bones, I am afraid we are out of mana," came Isaac's voice from beside him.
"I suppose that's enough for tonight, then. Let's find the bone knights and return to the campsite," Tommy said, dissolving the invisibility spells on each of them.
The bone knights hadn't moved too far in the forest, thankfully. Seeing nearly a hundred of them neatly lined up, ready to receive orders, was more than a little incredible. His first day in a new world, and he already had an undead army. His parents would be so proud.
"Bone knights," he boomed, his voice echoing through the woods. "Follow your master!"
The walk back to the campsite took nearly two hours as his companions were reduced to a slog from their overuse of magic. Contentment shined on their faces—a thing not missed by him; they seemed just as pleased as he was.
"Lord Bones, might I ask what your plan is? You mentioned before that you had no desire to conquer through violence. How might heavily armored, sword-wielding skeletons supply an alternative to that?" questioned Isaac.
It was a fair question, one that demanded a fair explanation. Luckily for Tommy, he already had a plan at the ready.
It was time to explain the basics of supply and demand to his loyal cult.