After his killing spree, Mark went about compiling his loot, and counting his gains.
Surprisingly, there were quite a few coins. What would a society that traded in teeth as a currency need coins for? Curious, Mark had questioned one of the goblin's before completing his slaughter.
The goblin in turn laughed in gibberish. But from what Mark could gather from its broken speech, they collected coins because 1) they were shiny, and 2) because they could deny their eternal enemies, the dwarves, from their precious gold.
Mark determined that goblins were, as a race, spiteful little shits.
But their hatred was his gain.
Altogether, Mark scrounged up 8 marks, 664 shillings, and too many pennies worth counting. There were even a few rubies and sapphires (critical components to enchanting) amongst the 'shinies.' Video games hadn't led him astray. Pillaging, raiding, and taxes were the way to make it big.
Unlike games, the average beastman or goblin didn't really carry coins on hand. However, these strongholds were virtual goldmines of wealth!
Before he left the exterior of the Dwarf Hold, he had goblin zombies wash the tools, weapons and armor in the snow. They weren't the best cleaners, but unlimited stamina was no joke when it came to repeated motions.
Stripping the dead bodies was also a laboriously tedious affair. It was a smelly one too. For one, half the corpses were dried out husks of smattered blood. His vampiric blasts were a little too effective at killing the enemy.
Fortunately, his goblin zombies, stupid as they were, could at least remove gear, and sort it into a pile by type.
Helmets were stacked with helmets, swords with swords, Soul Gems with Soul Gems, spider poison with spider poison, etc.
It took a few hours, but Mark was satisfied with the results.
Before long, he was the proud owner of almost a hundred petty Soul Gems, as well as over a dozen finely crafted dwarven picks, hammers, shields and axes. He even assembled three hodgepodge dwarf warrior armor sets.
God knew how old the equipment was, but none of it had rusted. Bullshit fantasy dwarf metallurgy was the only plausible explanation. In retrospect, his enchanted axe made from modern techniques wasn't looking so impressive anymore.
Pity. Seemed he wouldn't be able to do the generic isekai spiel, and wax lyrical about how everything from Earth was better than this medieval fantasy hell hole.
However, possibly the biggest haul was a runic warrior set! It was missing a boot, and both gauntlets, but the chest piece and helmet were still intact. Hell, the armor did its job! Mark recalled that when he tried to blast the bastard who wore the set, his magic seemed to deal significantly less damage. In the end, he had to finish the little goblin bastard with his claws.
It likely wouldn't be worth the time, but if he could find the specific clan that this armor belonged to, he could probably sell it for practically extortionate prices! Dwarves were rather fanatical when it came to their ancestors and their possessions after all.
They were the kind of greedy race that might loan a magic weapon to a rich family for 200 years, then collect massive interest. If there was anyone who had money on this planet, forget dragons, kings or emperors, dwarves were the true gold magnets!
Mark had also considered selling the set to a noble for their children, but on second thought, the armor weighed over a hundred pounds, no way a human kid could wear something like this!
He would see about disenchanting one piece, (the remaining boot) and see if he could find a buyer for the rest. Magic resistant armor would sell for quite the pretty penny!
Hopefully he wouldn't blow the table up after getting the enchanting feature down.
Additionally, he hoped runic weapons could be disenchanted. They were, afterall completely different from a traditional enchanted weapon.
Loot sufficiently packed, Mark made his way down the snowy slopes of the Middle Mountains.
Fortunately the goblins had some sleds laying around. Otherwise he would've had to make multiple trips. He didn't grab every valuable, however, what was left was of no real interest to him. Mostly it was bone weapons, and other shitty goblin crafted things. Mark figured he could grab the leftover loot when he came back to explore the mysterious rune door if he was in desperate need of cash.
It was a mostly uneventful journey home. He almost lost one cart down a steep ravine, but caught it before it could go over the edge.
Invigorated from a successful journey, Mark happily arrived at his destination.
Standing about a mile out from Esk, it was almost dawn. Mark could spot the sun jist on the edges of the horizon. He knew he would have to move quickly if he didn't want to be spotted by the many hunters that patrolled these lands.
Mark raised a hand, and lifted tons of dirt with his telekinesis.
Very soon, a square hole appeared. It was wide enough to fit three men standing abreast.
During his stay in town, Mark had put his dirt slaying skills to task. As a result, he now had a secret tunnel leading from the castle's cellar to a few locations outside of Esk.
He figured that there would be times when he needed to move illicit goods, or transport his undead. It would be a bad look to say the least if he was seen walking around with goblins, beastmen, or the obviously undead.
Following behind Mark were ten zombified giant spiders. Tied around them were some rope so that they could carry ten sleds full of loot.
The largest spider of course was the greater spider. It carried the heaviest items. Namely the weapons, or pieces of armor Mark had seized.
Before entering the tunnel with the zombies and sleds, Mark buried the greater spider outside since it was too large to fit inside.
He brought in the remaining sleds and zombies before moving another large patch of dirt to cover up the entrance.
Traveling through the dark tunnel, Mark finally came to the end. Standing in guard were two stone form gargoyles.
Mark did some more telekinesis, and moved the dirt blocking the passageway.
Entering the castle cellar, Mark struggled to find space for his new loot. While this was the biggest haul since destroying the beastman camp, he hadn't been idle in this month since he transmigrated. Weapons, armors, and chests of coins stuffed the cellar near capacity.
A few more quick applications of telekinesis, and Mark packed the castle cellar to the brim with chests, and goods.
Leaving the spiders in the tunnel, Mark sealed the entrance, and invisibly made his way upstairs.
He changed out of his armor outside his chambers.
Entering his room, he saw the sleeping form of Lilliana. Her skin was smooth, and without blemish. The gentle rise of her bountiful chest drew Mark's unblinking gaze.
His pants felt extremely confining when looking at such a beautiful woman.
Stepping to the bedside, Mark poked her on her cheek. His finger had a tiny ticklish sensation, she was that soft.
Her little elf ears twitched, and her eyes snapped open.
Brown met pink as she slowly rubbed the corner of her eyes.
She sneezed in the morning light, causing her nose and eyebrows to cutesy scrunch up.
Mark felt a twang in his heart as he took in her radiant pale figure.
Mark grinned, assured that his 'cook it slow' methodology was paying off.
A week ago, he had insisted she stay over after the feedings. Although he was often out at night, he still spent an hour with her before she fell asleep. And he did his best to arrive when she woke up.
After she finished sneezing, she threw a pillow at him.
"That was uncalled for." Mark said, amusement coloring his voice.
Lilliana huffed and plopped her head back on the bedding, staring up at the ceiling.
Mark sat down next to her, and wrapped her hand in his.
She looked up, and rolled her eyes.
But she didn't fight it.
Like that, they enjoyed the sunrise, and the sound of birds chirping away.
It was at times like these that Mark wished he had a music player to set the mood.
After fifteen minutes had passed, Lilliana squeezed Mark's hand, and moved to change into her black habit.
Leaving the bed, Lilliana wore a big shirt, and nothing else. Her long legs were like cream, her perky ass swayed mesmerizingly.
Mark pursed his lips, and held himself back from pursuing her.
'Cook it slow.' He repeated to himself in a mantra.
Hercules had gone through his labors, what was a little time and effort to taste a future reward? He was an adult, not a child. Mark understood what it meant to invest in the future, and not pursue immediate gains.
Lilliana moved behind a screen, and quickly slipped on her black robes.
While he was unquestionably a pervert, and had seen her naked many times, Mark believed in personal space.
Before long, she left the screen, and began to walk toward the corridor.
"We're going to Hergig soon." Mark said as he followed behind her.
Lilliana paused, and said "okay" then kept moving forward.
Mark sighed. He wanted her to ask him for what, or why. But speaking with the pale priestess of Morr was challenging. It seemed the only way he ever got a reaction from the demur lady was when he teased her.
Mark caught up to Lilliana, and picked her up in a princess carry. His hands conveniently roamed for a moment before he found a secure holding place.
"Ah!" Lilliana cried out at the sudden move.
Brown and pink once more met.
Mark grinned wildly at her as she once more rolled her eyes.
"Keep that lewd smirk to yourself." Lilliana harrumphed, and turned her head away.
Mark's face froze in astonishment, before the grin came back in full force.
"Why Little One, I didn't know you knew the meaning of the word! All those side eyed glances, why I thought I was just imagining them!" Mark said loudly.
Lilliana turned back, and glared at Mark. "Shut up!" Her ears began to turn a slight pink.
Mark stared, practically drunk by her beauty.
She noticed his rapt attention, and seemed to turn one shade redder.
"Oh Little One, how you pull at my heartstrings." Mark quickly reached up a hand, and flicked her tiny nose.
In the process of lifting his hand, they almost toppled over.
"Woah there! Maybe she's not so little!" Mark guffawed.
Lilliana frowned, and struggled to break free. It proved Futile, so she biit Mark shallowly on the shoulder in protest.
Mark laughed the entire way to the dining hall.
It wasn't a particularly large hall. There was a table wide enough to seat no more than twelve people.
Plopping her down, Mark took in the empty setting. There were no paintings, no musicians, and no fancy food. The only decoration was a large banner with his symbol, the black rose.
The entire castle had less than a handful of staff. A cook, his apprentice, a stablehand, steward, groundskeeper, and two maids.
Mark didn't have any bannermen or trusted aids. He was technically in charge of the town militia, yet he wasn't particularly close with any of them. As a knight dedicated to Morr, and outsider, Mark was like an island.
Looking at Lilliana butter some bread, he wasn't quite alone.
Mark found himself sighing. He was accumulating money at an astonishing rate. The amount of gold and silver he had on hand would be enough to see him enjoy a humble retirement back on Earth. Or invest in a bigger home.
But here, his wealth was just sitting there. Unused.
His banner flapped when a gentle breeze entered the room.
Mark slammed his fist down in realization, rattling the silverware, and startling Lilliana.
He had it! He claimed to be from an Order of knights. But. He was the only knight! This little castle in the middle of nowhere was so drab and boring without modern technology. Why didn't he use this newfound wealth to kit out a new military force?!
Hell, Mark was a vampire. Should he find any men or women skilled enough, he could make anyone super human.
Mark was broken out of his fugue, and was rejoicing in his new found purpose when a slender finger poked him in the side.
"Don't pound the table." Lilliana said quietly between bites.
Looking down in realization, Mark sheepishly realized he had cracked a silver platter.
Lilliana didn't raise her voice at all, but Mark felt sufficiently chastened. It was one thing to slam a fist on the table, but sometimes he let his strength get the best of him.
"Mhm. Sorry."
"As long as you're aware."
"Right. Anyway. Pack your things. I have to speak with Trader Jerrick and Huntmaster Derrick to wrangle up a little convoy." Mark leaned down, hesitated for a fraction of a second, then pecked Lilliana on the cheek and strode away.
"Dummy." Mark heard the little lass whisper as he walked out the doorway.
When he left the room, he caught the steward, and ordered him to make arrangements for Trader Jerrick to meet him at the newly constructed barracks.
Before he headed out to the meeting Mark had some work he wanted to complete in tje cellar and wanted to take inventory of some items.
On his way, he bummed into a few tables.
The corridors of the castle were still full of a few dozen tables. He had donated a few, but he held onto the majority in reserve.
He was still antsy with his current enchanting table, and didn't know if it would fail on him at any time. Additionally, he eventually wanted to give alchemy a go. However, that was long down the line.
Mark only had so much time, and testing concoctions sounded far less interesting to him then testing the limits of his necromancy, hemomancy and even enchanting. He considered himself a novice in all three schools, adding a fourth seemed like a burden.
Alchemy was a guaranteed strength enhancement. However. The fact remained. Every time he reaped a life with his vampiric drain, he gained a miniscule increase. This was a proven path to power.
On the other hand, while the gateway to infinite enchant X alchemy fusion was tempting, it seemed like a pipe dream.
He couldn't pull 'increase enchanting' out of his ass. Unlike his natural affinity with life drain, other enchantments would take time to study, or would be something he would have to steal.
Enchanting X alchemy research would be something he would have to put on the back burner. It was something he would explore with his immortal lifespan. Alchemy afterall, was more science then magic in many cases. It wasn't something Mark wanted to rush blindly into at the cost of his hemomancy and other confirmed abilities.
Making a quick trip to the cellar before setting out, Mark found himself in an adjacent room.
After shifting a wall of dirt, Mark came upon his enchanting table.
He took out some bundles of arrows and bullets, then got to work. One Petty Soul Gem disappeared to enchant one piece of ammunition.
This was something he had done earlier, but now was expediting the process. He enchanted ammo in preparation for an extended leave.
Now that he had such a large haul of Petty Soul Gems, it seemed like the perfect time to top up his reserves.
Mark enchanted paralysis onto the arrows, and life drain on the bullets. He deliberately refrained from enchanting any weapons because he didn't fully trust anyone else to wield them. It was in his opinion, a waste of resources, but one he didn't regret in the slightest.
Glancing at the dwarven made boot in hand, Mark hesitated, and placed it to the side. He didn't feel like blowing up his only working enchanting table on an experiment.
He decided to practice his disenchanting skill when he returned from Hergig.
A placing the hundred plus enchanted ammunition into a crate, Mark nodded in satisfaction.
It was time to head into town.
Dressed in casual attire, armed with his dirk, and carrying his money pouch, Mark was all set to go to town.
With a spring in his step, Mark left the inner courtyard, and made way to the stable. He didn't particularly enjoy riding a horse, he was a landlubber at heart, however, he had an image to maintain.
The horse was saddled, and ready to go. Mark nodded at the stablehand, and mounted the beast.
Before he set out the stable hand approached him with an apprehensive look on his face.
"Mi'lord, the demigryph egg, she has been rocking. I'm no expert, sir. But I be thinkin she'll hatch in no more than a week or uh two!" The man looked down, and refused to meet Mark's face as he nervously twisted his gloves.
"Carry on the good work. Notify me if the egg hatches, and prepare it for transport." Mark thanked the man by tossing him a penny, then set off.
He had intended to sell the egg in a larger market, like Altdorf. But it seemed he would have to settle for Hergig. While not ideal, he could visit Altdorf on another occasion. The sudden influx of cash would help him with his goal.
For now, he could hold on to five sets of dwarven weapons, and the gauntlets/boots.
He didn't foresee recruiting any large numbers of men anytime soon. He would focus on loyalty, and training elites. The remaining equipment would go toward his war chest. A knight had more costs than armor and weapons. And an Order was more than simply knights.
Many people bustled around Esk while Mark clippoty clopped by. Most of the destruction had been repaired, barring a few exceptions. Mark could still hear people gossip about the "Assault on Esk," but it didn't seem to weigh heavily on most townspeople.
And if it did, those people most affected kept it to themselves or their priests.
Mark received many friendly nods, smiles and waves during his journey. Only a month had passed, but their reaction to him was in stark contrast to when he first arrived.
Thankfully Esk was full of mostly good people.
As the Lord of the land, he only had to preside over a few cases since taking the office. Three thefts, and a case of wages unpaid. Resolving the issues were a pain, but it wasn't anything more than upjumped office politics as far as Mark was concerned.
Trotting toward the barracks, Mark saw the men drill with their bayonets. The fight on the hill proved their close combat skills were lacking, and Darren had been fiercely drilling with them every day.
"Go Hans, go! He's on 167! Three more thrusts, and he'll beat Johans record!" The men cheered as Hans tiredly shoved his bayonet into a straw filled dummy.
Sweat dripped down his forehead in torrents, and his muscular arms struggled to move forward.
The men were in a competition to test their stamina. This competition fostered even more intense training, and was something Mark had set up with a cash reward.
The average man could put his all into combat for 6 to 12 minutes. After that, exhaustion rapidly set in. By upping their cardio, Mark hopes they would make for more effective soldiers in the field.
"Get it Hans!" Mark shouted.
He saw the man stiffen up, and loom his way.
"Your time is almost up, go forward!" Mark shouted commandingly.
"Huahhh!" The tired man lost his brief paralysis and shouted.
"178, he did go even further than Johan!"
"Hans!"
"Hans!"
"Hans!"
The men laughed and cheered for the sweaty man. They dragged him up from the floor, and tossed him in the air.
Mark smiled at the festivities. Every man had to surpass the last by more than 5 if they wanted to win. Hans had set the bar much higher than expected.
"A hero deserves his reward!" Mark said, silencing the crowd.
Somewhere along the line, someone shoved Hans forward so that he was standing face first with Mark's mare.
The tan muscular man gulped, and looked up warily.
Mark laughed at this. The fact that a taller, more masculine looking man than him wore such a look was seemingly unfathomable to him a month ago.
"A hero's reward!" Mark held out ten silver shillings, and held them up in the bright morning sun for everyone to see.
The militiamen were paid a shilling a day.
This was ten days' pay Mark was handing out here!
"The men of Esk grow ever stronger! Never again!" Mark praised, then ended his speech with a hint of violence.
"Never again!" The cheering men adopted a solemn tone as they shouted back.
It had only been a month since they had lost hundreds to the vile beastmen. With a wound so fresh in their memories, Mark capitalized on their trauma to instill unity with hatred.
Mark focused on stimulating the men by appealing to their greed, pride, and sense of shame. He didn't want to return to a smoking ruin after all!
"Keep up the hard work! Now, I must have a word with your Deputy." Mark gestured for them to continue, then nodded at Darren.
Darren led him to his office.
As soon as they sat down and got comfortable, Jerrick walked in.
The half-dwarf's belly was wide, and he narrowly fit inside the narrow doorway.
"Aye heard you were looking for me Sir Mark?" Jerrick's voice came out sounding like an American miming a Scottish accent.
Mark nodded. "Gentlemen. I plan to temporarily travel to Hergig. My demigryph egg is close to hatching, and I have too much to sell. Ordinarily, I would hand this deal off to a trusted merchant." Mark inclined his head toward Jerrick. "However, such a large bounty requires I oversee it personally. Seeing as you two are most familiar with the roads and their dangers, I wanted your advice."
Jerrick pulled on his beard, but remained silent in thought.
"If you go to Hergig, bring the chimera with you." Darren broke the silence.
"What do you mean?" Mark tilted his head to the side in confusion.
"Legitimacy. You are not the properly conferred Lord of Esk. If you show up with such a beast, and gift it to the Elector Count, no one would deny you this posting." Darren finished his statement while furiously twirling his burly mustache.
"Aye, the men of Hochland are impressed with such feats. It is a good idea." Jerrick agreed.
Mark replied with a smile. "I'll take your advice to heart. Then what of you, Trader Jerrick?"
"You have two routes. Take the North Road, or sail south to Bergendorf, and take the Wolf's Road." Jerrick unfolded a map, and pointed out the geography.
Looking at the map, both paths would have Mark circumvent the majority of the Drakwald. However they were both circular, and would likely eat up a large amount of travel time.
"Which do you suggest?"
Instead of giving a direct answer, Jerrick listed the options. "The Wolf's Road is faster, safer, but more expensive. There are many tolls on this route, and you would travel downstream first. The North Road comparatively has less patrols, and is slightly longer, but it's a straight shot."
Mark sat in thought. The point of this expedition was to make money. And he wasn't afraid of danger.
"I'll take the North Road." Mark said firmly.
"Okay! I shall accompany you! You won't regret this!" Jerrick happily pulled out some documents for a contract to be signed.
Mark rubbed his brow at the price Jerrick was asking for, and began to negotiate.
Darren conveniently excused himself while the two men hashed out the details.
Hans happily pocketed the money he had won from the competition. He wolfishly grinned to himself. Goodbye Esk! He was a man with enough silver to move to a new town, and take himself a wife! No more shady magic, no more beautiful temptresses!"
No more-
"Hans, hello~~~ you awake?! You've just been recruited to escort Sir Mark and Priestess Lilliana to Hergig! You impressed the Black Rose with your big thrusts! He requested you by name! It's double pay! C'mon, we're going to be rich!" His squadmate gripped his forearm and dragged him along.
Hans's face was frozen in fright. He gloomily allowed himself to be dragged away.
There was no way he would risk running away when he had been called by name.
'Stupid! Stupid fucking idiot!' Hans raged in his mind. He wanted to pound his head against the dirt side road.
Greedy! He was to greedy, and didn't take his time! What were ten more coins?! Bah, he could've worked one more month!
And now…
Hans looked at his cheery comrade and shook his. That poor naive fool.
Didn't he know that they would meet extreme misfortune on this trip? Was everyone else blind?
"Tch." Hans kicked a rock, and marched toward his fate like a dead man.
AN: NSFW stuff next chap for sure.