Prompt: A Powerful sorcerer known as the Soul Harvester has recently died, and now his unfathomable collection of souls has become a hivemind army without a sorcerer to control them.
Prompt Source: user Jamano-Eridzander; subreddit “Writing Prompts”
"And you have the impression that...somehow... I am the man for the job?"
The man in the chair raised one eyebrow in fairly clear skepticism. He wasn't, precisely, the sort of person called in to handle something like this. At least not by folks above the board.
"I'm not even a sorcerer," he pointed out, mostly for the pleasure of watching the government official squirm.
"No, you're-- you're uniquely qualified," the man bit out.
The man in the chair resisted the urge to laugh. He could have just finished what he was going to say- the man knew very well he was 'worse' in the eyes of so many fools.
"My magic is very specifically aligned. How, precisely, am I uniquely qualified to bring a sorcerous hivemind under control? The dead do not have passion."
"It's exactly the same as you already do and pretend you're not," the official finally snapped, gripping the table hard enough to gouge the wood.
The man in the chair leaned forward, and grinned a cruel grin.
"And what incentive do I have, then, for taking charge of this hivemind, when my own kingdom is already a hivemind on which I spend much of my waking hours directing? What will you offer me to do you this service?"
Hundreds of familiar minds touched his and slipped away again once discerning the source of his mixed anger and anticipation; just another Tuesday for a King whose magic touched every corner of his lands and then halfway further into his neighbors'.
"I hate you, you disgusting, vile, violating son of a cur!"
That was almost disappointingly fast. Usually the negotiators they sent him were a bit more fun.
"If I had applied my magic to you, you'd know," the monarch replied, voice gone low and cold. "Keep your accusations to yourself, and make the offer they sent you to make, or I will take both hivemind and wipe out your tiny little nation like a scorpion nest in my palace."
"Full submission to your monarchy," he growled. "If they are left to run rampant without orders they will destroy us anyway. We'll be-- a territory answering to you."
"No," the King rejected that out of hand. "I do not want territories. I will take your nation's agreement to respect our laws and that any slaves that enter my country from yours become free citizens the moment they cross the border."
The negotiator (he hadn't even introduced himself) looked shocked for a moment, then hardened his expression and simply nodded.
"I'll draw it up...your Majesty."
"And I will take possession of your hivemind," the King agreed, and without having to leave his seat, he simply closed his eyes and extended his senses until he found a soul in his lands- wandering, lost, empty empty empty thousands of bodies with no thoughts no hope no dreams nothing at all but the interwoven web stretching for six countries.
He slid into that emptiness with the seamless practice of feeling everyone in his lands for going on thirty years and pressed one single order into the center of the web of minds:
You are Rosalians now. Come home.
"Done," he reported to the official, then without waiting for him to comment, he rose to seek out his twin and his guards.
They had over a hundred thousand new citizens on the way. Incorporeal or not, he wanted his people warned and a welcoming committee ready to receive them. His newest citizens were certainly going to outlast their mortal ruler and many of his people besides; he could think of two dozen ways to secure the country against the slavers' return, civil wars, and protecting his bloodline for generations, and that was just off the top of his head!
His brother and Spymaster would be able to triple that before kaf.
Rosalia was never going to stop being a world power now.
Not bad for a filthy street brat, if he did say so himself!
