Darion looked over the farmland and found himself thinking about his undead.
It made sense to think about it. He had knights sitting in his inventory, just waiting around between uses.
They were tied to him, never got tired, didn't need food or rest or pay, and they could follow instructions.
The farmland needed workers. Workers were something he had plenty of, theoretically, as long as he had enough graves to dig up.
At first, the logic seemed simple. But the more he thought about it, the more complicated it got.
The undead worked because of preserved combat instinct. That was the core of what made them functional. It was not intelligence, not adaptability, but the deep physical memory of what they had spent their lives doing.
