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It was raised in a relatively quick matter; the construction quotas for the slaves had to be increased, and the labour itself had to be augmented with raised carrion, for undead skeletons could work longer and harder, as long as the task wasn't too complex. Your living slaves would do the more complicated tasks like the vaulting and intricate details that required finesse and precision. This fortress would in many ways be a prototype, serving as both your first overlord's tower in millennia and the nexus of your administration and military. The walls were thick, the sandstone a dark brown yellow. The windows were small and the halls cool, the dungeons cooler still. There would be more of these if you were to both control the desert and wage war upon your neighbours; you would need fortresses to double as depots, water stations, and strategic outposts.
It wasn't finished by any metric; you had ordered there be luxurious quartz mosaics and other such opulent decorations to be added, for your subject would be kept in line doublefold if they kept you in both dread and awe. But you moved the laboratories, smithies and other facilities within its walls. You didn't like prying eyes, not even those who were most loyal to you.
You looked down into the courtyard, where slaves were pulling in a marble statue of their snake god, to greet those who came through the main gates.
The warbands had returned in triumph, the desert ore fields were at your command, and a garrison was being installed near the most productive mines. The routes to and fro were also cleared and would be kept clear for the foreseeable future. You thus gifted the captains of these hosts a scimitar each, for the carrot will come before the stick with success.
As for your own bandits and criminal agents, the drug run was a success, but the markets were drying up, and they had to sell at lower prices than usual. (+1 Wealth) A paltry sum, one which would pale once the new product was refined, of that you were certain.
