“My dear Immortals,” Tye spoke to the elite of his undead minions, as he gathered them in his laboratory, “As Hagen informed you, we have a problem, and it has only worsened since. We can expect an increase of adventurers trying to rout us, led by Avalon’s own princess. I gathered you so that we may discuss how to solve this problem.”

The Ankou waited a few minutes for his undead to speak up, taking the time to count them. Much to his annoyance, he realized that he had less than two dozen intelligent ones under his orders; while he had a steady supply of mindless workers, he had very few higher-level monsters to throw at invaders.

It was never a problem since they faced average parties of four to six, but now...

“Obviously, we kill them all,” Duke finally stated the simple solution, Spook mimicking a slashing throat motion with his claw for emphasis. “Three or three hundred, they will not pass. We have held against many, master; and we will continue to do so until your purpose is fulfilled.”

“They are the children of nobles,” Hagen replied. “The princess, if it isn’t obvious enough, is the King’s daughter.”

“It is a shame to spill noble blood, I agree,” Duke said with false regrets. “But alas, we cannot avoid this slaughter of innocents…”

“A slaughter is what will happen if we kill the princess,” Tye said. “The King will send his best knights, some of which, I must remind you, are way, way beyond our ability to confront. That Lancelot alone could take us all down.”

“I am surprised they didn’t order a strike already,” Hagen said. “You would figure the princess would send knights instead of dragging her feet into the mud.”

“They are young, children of summer,” Duke said mirthfully. “They think themselves immortal, invincible, promised to glory. I know. I was a young noble too. They never see death coming.”

“Then, chief, I say we evacuate the dungeon,” said Hagen.

“You want to run?” Duke asked, aghast at his cowardice.

“Temporarily,” the knight replied. “We sacrifice a few so their lust for battle is satisfied, spread through the tunnels and the forest of Brocéliande. The princess will not stay in the city forever; once she gets bored or the king summons her back to the capital, she will leave and the pressure will die out.”

A tactic worthy of a bandit; it had served Hagen well during his criminal days. But it would not do. “I cannot abandon the dungeon,” Tye said. “Alkahest is too rare and difficult to access. If the surface finds out about the deposit, they will condemn the area.”

No, that would considerably slow down his research, and it may take him decades to find another deposit of this size. If he found one.

“How long will it take our workers to extract all the Alkahest in the mines, if all non-fighters are assigned to the task?” Tye asked Hagen. “Including the deposits in the ruins below?”

“At least eight months.”

So long, and yet so short. “We will defend the dungeon until we have bled it dry,” Tye reached a decision, “Then we will relocate.”

“So we kill?” Duke asked, eager for bloodshed.

“Not all of them,” Tye said. “The princess, in particular, must be captured alive. You are not to murder her.”

“We should gain information on the other students, so we avoid killing brats too important to die,” Hagen said. “And reinforce security. We can best the average adventurers alright… but not ones as well-equipped as the royal family or the Academy.”

“Reinforce security? More traps?”

“That, and I’m saying you should look forward to recruiting new meat, chief.”

“Come back any time!” Tye told his latest client, as they passed through the door.

Following word of the princess’ announcement, the local adventurers had come to his shop all at once; most probably to curry royal favor by following her to battle. Even now, close to midday, he had ten of them examining his potion rows, trying to decide whether to take recovery elixirs, protective ointments, burning oil, or magical powders. Tye used what little time he could muster between two sales to write down a new gadget’s schematics.

He pondered Hagen’s words. Recruiting? He was a necromancer marked for death by the royal princess, who could he recruit? Certainly not mercenaries. Even bandits of ill-repute won’t die fighting nobles; they would continue doing business with the Ankou, but never die for him. The Calamity Cults, these fanatics worshipping the five disasters destined to destroy Nine Realms, may gladly assist him, but they would only increase royal pressure.

Which left only summons, monsters, creatures from the other Nine Realms, and whatever creatures he could make by himself. And while he had funds from both the shop and his own alchemy, they weren’t limitless. Maybe he should contact the dark elves of Svartalfheim, or forcefully subsume the creatures lurking in the deeper levels of the dungeon...

Tye was drawn out of his thoughts by a client reaching his counter. An earthlander, according to his strange, stern face, black hair, dark eyes; this one carried a bow as his [Sacred Weapon], and while handsome, clearly valued practical hunting clothing over armor. He looked like the kind who couldn’t take a joke.

“I’m looking for a product effective against the undead,” the young man said, skipping straight to business. “To coat arrows and weapons with.”

“Have you tried [Holy Water]?” Tye said, having his best soldiers magically protected against it. “Balder’s church doesn’t charge anything for it.”

“If it was effective, the undead would be gone a long time ago,” the earthlander replied with a grumpy look.

Smart one. “I have incendiary oil. Most undead are vulnerable to flames, especially since their body parts often move even after being cut off. Of course, using fire in narrow corridors has its downsides.”

“I don't want to be asphyxiated by smoke,” the young man replied.

“Then thankfully, I have potions of smokeless fire which you can coat your weapons with.” And whose flames were brighter than usual, making it easy for undead to pinpoint the adventurer’s location.

“Give me more details,” the man said. “I want a demonstration before I buy it.”

What a picky customer this one. Was he suspicious of Tye’s products? The necromancer marked that one as dangerous, before explaining the ins and outs of the potion. The client immediately zeroed in on the light problem, much to Tye’s silent frustration.

“Takeru, stop bothering my friend!”

The voice of Annie made Tye’s head perk up, his friend entering the shop with a bright smile on her face.

All the adventurers present imitated the shopkeeper; for the princess walked right after her. The redhead girl that he almost killed in the dungeon followed her, attracting a few lustful gazes herself.

“Oh great, it’s Annie,” the man, ‘Takeru,’ complained, while all the adventurers swarmed to the princess’ side to lick her boots. “Look, I was just asking questions about gear.”

“It looked like you put him on a witch trial!” the young witch scolded the young man, before waving a hand at her favorite shopkeeper. “Hi, Tye!”

“Hello, Annie.” Tye smiled, quickly guessing from the mutual familiarity that they were classmates. “I see that you brought me clients, as promised. And a princess at that.”

“Sorry,” she apologized, even though she had no reason to. “Takeru is tightfisted and nitpicks everything.”

“Pff, I have high standards, that’s all,” the man replied. “Though I admit that the shop has an impressive collection of magical wares.”

“I assume you’re classmates?” Tye asked, both of them nodding. “So you’re an earthlander?”

“Japanese,” Takeru replied, Tye having heard of this strange island.

“He wanted to take the ‘steady path to saving the world’,” Annie said, making her colleague sulk. “So he enrolled for more than one year to round out his skills.”

Wise choice. Earthlanders picked up skills and leveled up unusually fast, compared to Midgard natives, and those who threw themselves into the fray rarely survived long. “Is it true you will stay longer in Lyonesse?” the shopkeeper asked, eager to see her more often.

“Yes, until we have beaten that scummy wizard at the dungeon’s bottom,” Annie said with a smirk. Tye forced himself to smile back.

“I am to blame for this.”

Having finally emerged from the cloud of admirers surrounding her, the princess approached the counter as if she owned the shop. “I am Gwenhyfar Völsung,” the noblewoman announced herself, the redhead following her like a trained pet. “First Princess of Avalon, but you may call me Gwen. The woman at my side is my dear cousin and lady-in-waiting, Morgane Sieglinde.”

“Annie spoke well of you,” the other girl said with a smile, putting her hand in her hair to reveal her perfect collar bone to the male onlookers. “Aren’t you the dashing one?”

“Thank you,” Tye responded, unimpressed. He had seen her type more than he could count, beautiful young maidens expecting the shopkeeper to give them a discount if they deigned to flirt with him. “Princess, you honor my shop by visiting. What can I do for you?”

“I am just visiting,” she said with a mirthless smile, her face an indecipherable wall. Every word that came out of her mouth seemed carefully prepared and rehearsed. “We have supplies aplenty, but Annie spoke very well of you.”

“Tye helped me enter the Academy,” the witch all but advertised for her friend’s shop. “He’s the one who gave me the [Arcane Crystals] I used for my entrance demonstration!”

“You are too kind,” the necromancer replied. “But the talent was yours alone. I only greased the wheel.”

“Thank you for your kindness towards her,” the princess said. “The Academy, no, the whole kingdom, desperately needs talent like dear Annie.”

Tye noticed the witch redden at the praise, before focusing back on the princess. “Your Highness, if I may not offend you by asking, what is your level?”

“Twenty.”

Ah! No wonder he crushed her! “Is it wise to risk your life clearing a dungeon so dangerous at your level?” Tye asked. “Certainly the kingdom has no shortage of knights or adventurers ready to fight for you.”

“It is my fault my classmate died,” she replied, her voice calm and poised. “We ventured into the dungeon at my behest. It is my responsibility to personally make up to him, and his still-living father, by bringing the murderer to justice.”

From what he had heard from their exchange in the dungeon, the fool brought his fate upon himself. Neither could Tye sense any righteous anger from her.

No. Nobody was that innocent and just. She played the image of a prim, proper princess of action, but Tye knew better. She must have had a dirty motive. Was it ego? Boredom? A political move? Teenage rebellion of some kind? The sooner he knew, the better he could make her leave.

Tye appraised her, but couldn’t get a reading on that maiden. She didn’t give up any information, didn’t seem particularly interested in making conversation. In fact, she seemed to be measuring Tye up with wariness, just as much as the necromancer was.

“Maybe we should buy free healing potions for everyone willing to help with the raid,” Morgane broke the awkward silence, the princess glancing at her.

“The raid?” Tye asked.

“We raid the dungeon tomorrow morning at dawn,” Takeru said with a shrug. “What a pain.”

Annie elbowed him. “Don’t worry Tye, the churches sent us support, as did the Academy’s local representative,” the witch reassured the shopkeeper. He was worried, but not for the reasons she thought.

“That is an excellent idea, Morgane,” the princess said, turning to the adventurers present. “Everyone, for those who will give us their strength, take what you want!”

The men applauded the royal’s generosity, the necromancer along with them. Tye did notice that this Morgane said we, and that the princess didn’t disagree. The girl clearly had influence on her so-called mistress.

There may be a weakness to exploit there.

“What is this?” Morgane asked, upon seeing the half-finished writing on the counter.

“It’s a new gadget design for a client,” Tye half-lied. “Annie knows how much I love to tinker.”

“It looks like an alchemy cauldron,” Morgane said. “I have seen a similar design in Calvert’s lab.”

Calvert? The kingdom’s archwizard and the Academy’s headmaster? Tye definitively promised himself to look into her background “It is indeed an alchemical gadget,” the necromancer admitted. “Albeit a mere prototype. For now, it only exists in my imagination.”

“Oooh, what can it do?” Annie asked, ever curious. “What is its name?”

“It’s a secret.”

For now, he was going with [Slime Factory]. As for what it did… well, they would see for themselves soon enough.