"No, no, no," Tommy said, tone ever-so-clearly laced with exasperation. "For the love of collard greens, Isaac. Money is what we're after—not their souls."
Isaac bore a look of supreme confusion. "My Lord Bones, I am afraid I don't understand. Why would you require talons when you possess the power to crush nations beneath your heel?"
Talons—that was the main currency of this stunning, backwater world he found himself in. He and Isaac had been discussing the importance of it for the better part of an hour now, but the old man just couldn't grasp it.
"Because I'm not going to go around slinging fireballs and sucking souls anymore. We're conquering the world peacefully, not through violence, remember? And to conquer the world peacefully, we'll need money."
He still seemed confused.
"Alright, let me try another example," Tommy suggested. "Imagine there's a farming village that doesn't have enough grain to meet the quota their lord established"—he stopped himself—"that's how things work, right? Lords and ladies at the top, peasants at the bottom?"
Isaac nodded. "Yes, my lord. The layfolk pay tribute to their lords through labor and taxes."
"Right. So, this farming village doesn't have enough grain to meet its quota," he restated. "But a traveling merchant comes by and happens to have just enough to help them meet it. How much does he sell it for?"
"Five talons, my lord," Isaac guessed after a moment of thought.
"Isaac, where in the name of applesauce did you get a specific number?" Tommy asked, doing his best to school his frustration. "The answer was more than it's worth. He'll sell it for more than it's worth because the villagers will be willing to pay whatever price he asks so they can fulfill their quota. Get it?"
"Because they need to meet their quota, the demand for grain is high," Isaac spoke like a timid child, fearful of being scolded.
Tommy motioned for him to continue.
"The merchant's supply of grain is also high, so he can fulfill their demand."
"Exactly. And he'll charge an exorbitant amount for the grain because the demand is so high. They either accept his offer or face the consequences of not meeting their quota. It's an ultimatum."
It was as though a lightbulb flashed over Isaac's head.
"I understand now," he said with a smile.
Thank every god imaginable. That took way too long. Was he a bad teacher, or was the guy just not cut out for economics?
"So, we're going to start selling grain?"
Oh, for the love of—
"No, that was just an example of supply and demand. We're going to be selling something far more valuable," Tommy corrected him.
"What will we be selling, my lord?"
"You tell me," Tommy ordered. "If I'm not going to use my bone knights for violence, what else could I use them for?"
Isaac furrowed his brow and thought for a few moments. "Labor," he answered.
Tommy pointed a finger gun at him. "Exactly. Thanks to the plague you told me about, the demand for laborers is high. We have the supply to fill it."
That was the plan. Nearly a hundred undead warriors who never grew tired? To heck with fighting—they were made to work! There were just a couple of problems that needed to be addressed.
First was their appearance. Even centuries after the War of the Damned, people were wary of the undead. Letting them go to work with their bones showing wasn't exactly an option. He'd need a powerful illusion spell to cover them up.
The second problem was finding a place for them to work. A mine or a farm would be the best bet; inner-city jobs seemed too risky.
"Isaac, I need you to find me a spell—one that will allow me to change the appearance of myself and the bone knights."
"The greater false image spell is what you're seeking, my lord," Isaac said. "It's a long-lasting illusion that can only be dispelled by a skilled magic caster."
Great. One problem solved.
"Then all that's left is to find them a place to work. Any ideas?"
"There are a great number of coal and iron mines in the mountains east of Newhorn. Perhaps we should check there."
"We'll visit them first thing in the morning, then. Go and get some sleep."
"Yes, my lord. Thank you."
Tommy felt as energetic as a bunny on amphetamines, so he decided to stay up. His new body likely didn't need sleep anyhow, so lying down would be a waste of time. He shambled to the front line of his motionless, undead horde and aimed his right palm at one of the knights.
"Greater false image."
An explosion of blue light lit the dark air, accompanied by the faint noise of rattled wind chimes. The bone knight now stood a few inches shorter and wore the skin of a wildly unattractive man. Chubby face, big gut, beady eyes, twirly mustache—
Actually, the mustache was pretty cool. Everything else about the guy, though? Not so hot. Still, the spell worked perfectly. Now to do it another hundred times.
"Greater false image, greater false image, greater false image."
It only took a few minutes to transform the rest of the knights into mundane-looking men—men being the keyword. The world was, more than likely, a little sexist, so women working in the mines might not be allowed. Best to err on the side of caution.
"Looking good, looking good," he remarked, checking out his tiny army.
What a productive first day. He found his way into the body of a long-dead necromancer, learned how to cast magic, went gravedigging with some new cultist friends, then created a small, undead army. Who could ask for more?
He snatched Isaac's spellbook from beside his tent and headed off into the nearby forest.
For six hours, he worked through the book, focusing on transmutation spells. Some of them seemed abusable, others not so much, and most were downright useless. Enhance caterpillar? Why did that even exist?
When the sun replaced the moon, Tommy returned to camp to find his disciples cooking breakfast—beans and corn. Delicious.
Isaac stopped shoveling his bowl of mush when he took notice of him. He threw himself to his knees in reverence. "Good morning, Lord Bones. I see you've cast illusion spells on the knights. Truly incredible."
"Please rise, Isaac. There is no need for you to bow before me. We are friends, are we not?"
Isaac's eyes widened. "Friends, my lord?"
"You brought me back from the underworld, after all. One could say I owe you and the others a great debt."
"You jest," Isaac exclaimed. "You are the greatest magic caster in history. Why, it is an honor just to be in your presence. It is we who owe you a debt."
Tommy shook his skull. "I disagree. You have done me a great service and I will see your efforts repaid."
Isaac seemed taken by his words, his eyes betraying an eagerness to be rewarded for the resurrection.
It seemed only fitting that he found a way to repay his disciples. They brought him to a beautiful new world in which he was practically a god. It was a step up from being a box salesman, for sure.
"If it is your will," Isaac conceded.
"I'd like for you to travel with me to the mines. I see no point in bringing anyone else. The others can stay here and watch over the knights."
"I would be honored to accompany you. I shall pack my bag at once."
Tommy nodded, then made his way over to the other disciples.
They sat upon logs by the campfire, digging into their food without utensils, like pigs guzzling slop from a trough. Upon seeing him, they set their bowls in the grass and moved to bow.
"Please, please—you need not lower yourselves. Carry on with your breakfast," said Tommy, raising his hand to stop them. "Isaac and I will be gone for a few days. We move for the mountains east of Newhorn."
"Might I ask why, my lord?" came Alice's voice, sweet and soft.
"To find a place for our new army to work. They will provide us with a stable income of talons," he explained.
"Talons, my lord? Why would one as great as you need talons?" asked Luca, a look of pure bewilderment upon his youthful face.
No. He refused to explain this again. Even if the kid got it faster than old Isaac did, it would still be a phenomenal waste of time.
"I've explained it to Isaac. Upon our return, you may ask him."
"Yes, my lord. I apologize if my question caused offense," Luca said, confusion replaced with fear.
Man, these guys were really on edge all the time. Though, he supposed he would be as well if he were facing an undead necromancer whose soul was allegedly dragged from the depths of the underworld.
"It caused no offense whatsoever, Luca. Be at ease."
Luca was not, in fact, at ease. If anything, he stiffened further at his forgiveness, perhaps expecting it to be a cruel joke.
"I am prepared to leave, my lord," said Isaac, knapsack on his back, sword at his hip.
Wait, he had a sword? Well, that made sense, actually, given the guy only had a couple of cups' worth of mana. He couldn't rely on spells alone to ensure his safety.
"Then let's go. Do you know of any spells that might hasten our arrival?"
"Conjure animal could provide us with horses, I believe," Isaac answered.
Conjure animal existed in Pelindor? That was fantastic news! Ideas soared through his head, ways to make use of it. Taxi services, animal fighting rings, petting zoos—the list went on. He stockpiled them all for later.
"Conjure animal."
A burst of green light, a loud neigh, and boom—there stood a horse. It was rather silly, actually. The big equine just appeared out of thin air as though it were copied and pasted into the world.
"Conjure animal," he said, conjuring a second horse for Isaac. "Now, let us depart."
Job-hunting for an undead army was sure to be fun.