Valkyrie's Shadow

Before the Storm: Act 9, Chapter 2

Chapter 2

“Liam, I don’t know any greasy Nobles with four chins.”

“Huh?”

“I don’t!”

Liam did his best to keep his face from screwing up in confusion at Lady Beaumont’s sudden outburst. What was she getting at?

“Maybe it was a fat Merchant,” Claire offered. “They just ride their wagons from town to town and make money, yeah? Some of ‘em dress up all fancy and stay at the nicest places with the richest food, so he might’ve mistook one for a Noble.”

Why they were discussing Reed’s made-up scenario was beyond him. The guy had never been to the capital, so, logically, he had never seen a greasy Noble with four chins at some fancy hotel there.

“Don’t you have a mountain work to do, my lady?” Liam asked, “I don’t think we should be wasting time on idle gossip.”

“I’ve taken care of everything that I can,” Lady Beaumont answered. “The rest will have to wait until we settle our business in the city.”

He peeked through a crack in the tarp shielding the Countess’ quarters from the outdoors, frowning up at the weather that they had been sailing into for the past four days. Winter had fully set in over Re-Estize, bestowing its blessing of misery upon the hapless Humans below. Little could be heard over the sheets of rain cutting into the river and even less could be seen, but, according to the captain, they would arrive at their destination early that evening.

“Are you going to be able to get your cargo over the pass with all this rain, Lady Beaumont?” Liam asked, “Caravaneers don’t like travelling in conditions like this.”

“I can’t imagine that I couldn’t,” the young noblewoman replied. “The harvest is well over in the uplands so there should be plenty of wagons for hire. We’ll have just to wait for a break in the weather to make the final leg of our journey. House Beamont’s records indicate that this is what we’ve always done.”

Liam hoped she was right. If he got stuck in some seedy town in the Azerlisia Marches all winter, he would be catching up on schoolwork for the next year.

“If you have some free time now,” Liam said, “then why not teach Claire how to read and write? It’d be weird to have a Maid who doesn’t know how.”

“I already know how to read and write!” Claire protested.

“Not to the standard expected of a household retinue,” Liam said.

The Maid pouted, crossing her arms under her breasts. Most people in Re-Estize were much like her when it came to literacy. They knew their letters and numbers, how to write their names, and recognised a set of words important to everyday life. It was pretty much the bare minimum required to avoid getting cheated by other people so long as records were kept simple. Anything more was considered a luxury.

Claire rose to her feet, a smile creeping onto her face.

“Liam,” she called out to him sweetly, “you know how to read, right? I’d just love it if you could–”

Countess Beaumont reached out and yanked the Maid back down onto her cushion.

“I’ll teach her,” she said. “Liam, could you please give us some time alone?”

He wasted no time making his exit, pulling the hood of his mantle over his head as he stepped out into the rain. A crewman keeping watch over the river nodded silently to him as he made his way over.

“How long to High Harbour?” Liam asked.

“Not long,” the man answered. “Three; four hours at most.”

“I’ve never been there before,” Liam said, “what’s it like?”

“Like any other port on the river,” the man shrugged. “The people are a different story, though. They act all snooty ‘cause they’re the closest town to the city on this side of the pass.”

“What about the pass? Is it hard to cross?”

The sailor snorted.

“It’s barely a pass. Water flows one way or the other from there and there’s nothing else special about it.”

“I see.”

Liam’s maps were meant for Merchants, so he figured that he was missing something. Those types of maps weren’t very detailed, after all. Apparently, there wasn’t much detail to add in the first place.

“Say, that magic item you got – the one that warms up the air. Was it hard to get?”

“Not really,” Liam replied. “A bunch were being sold at a shop in my village.”

“…your village has a magic item shop?”

“Uh, it’s more like…”

He frowned as he tried to think of a way to describe how buying stuff in Warden’s Vale worked. Never mind not usually having magic item shops, most villages didn’t have shops at all. When it came to towns and cities, a ‘shop’ was usually the storefront of a workshop that had a sampling of goods on display. Buying anything more complicated than nails, stockings, or sausages involved the customer making a custom order.

In Warden’s Vale, every artisan was an employee of one of House Zahradnik’s chartered companies. Those companies, in turn, had outlets in the village which were constantly stocked with goods that people could purchase right away. Adjustments to things like clothing were done upon purchase.

“Like…?”

“Never mind,” Liam said. “They just happened to be on sale while I was around. Why do you ask?”

“They’re mighty handy, so I was thinking I’d like one of my own. Are they expensive?”

“The one we’re using right now was going for two gold trade coins.”

“Two–! Even city folk can’t afford that…”

“It’s not as expensive as it seems,” Liam said. “Just think of all the money people spend on firewood to stay warm every year. The magic item basically pays for itself after a few winters.”

“Doesn’t it run out?”

“Not that I know of…”

Despite the clear advantages of the magic item, the sailor still bore a conflicted expression while he digested what Liam had shared with him.

“If someone goes and steals it,” the man asked, “will it curse the thief? Make their hand shrivel up and fall off or something?

Liam furrowed his brow.

“Um…no?”

“Then it ain’t worth it. Some official or thug will make off with the thing before it pays itself off.”

He supposed that was the long and short of it. His teachers in E-Rantel and the Artificers in Warden’s Vale always talked up the benefits of magic items whenever they became the topic of discussion, but the reality was that magic items were valuable and valuables got stolen. Policing had to be good enough that people didn’t have to worry about their stuff being stolen and Re-Estize was far from that sort of place. Not even Nobles were safe. High-class establishments could get away with using magic items because they had powerful patrons who ensured that whatever amounted to local security forces took good care of them.

Liam left the sailor to his conclusion, wandering towards the bow where Reed and several of his men stood with their backs against a wall of crates. There wasn’t enough room in the makeshift shelters that had been cobbled together to take advantage of the Heating Hoop, so most of the men took turns hiding from the rain.

“How long ‘till you get back inside?” Liam asked as he approached them.

“We just came out,” Reed said. “Honestly, it’s not so bad out here.”

“Yeah?”

The woodsman nodded.

“Yeah. We figured out a neat little trick. So long as we keep our mantles closed and our hoods up, we basically make little tents that your magic item can heat up the inside of. Now that no one’s had a bath for half a week, it’s probably nicer out here like this than in the cabins.”

“That’s a good point,” Liam said.

Liam’s brooch had an Endure Elements effect, so he didn’t think much about how uncomfortable the weather was. Reed and his men, on the other hand, had every incentive to experiment with the effects of the Heating Hoop and the trip gave them plenty of time to do so. He wondered how much he was missing out on by relying on magic items all the time.

“The crew says we’re almost at High Harbour,” Liam said. “Think we’ll have any trouble there?”

“Aside from restless escorts picking stupid fights, no. That’ll get worse the longer this rain holds us up.”

“I thought the Eight Fingers escorted the caravans around here.”

“Things get mixed up a bit past High Harbour. Re-Blumrushur always has two or three Mercenary Companies hanging around and they’re always sniffing around for odd jobs. Oh, you should keep Lady Beaumont out of sight just in case. Town’s bound to be crowded and every girl starts looking like a tart when that happens.”

“I guess we won’t be able to find an inn,” Liam sighed.

“It’s been rainin’ for days, so I doubt it. Lucky we already got our setup figured out, eh?”

“Will it be safe outside?”

“With as many eyes as we have, safe enough. This ain’t Lady Beaumont’s land, though, so I’m more worried about our supplies runnin’ out.”

It can’t rain for that long, can it?

They had packed enough food to last the entire trip to the city, but that only assumed minor delays. With the Countess’ financial situation as it was, Liam was providing all of the coin and he wasn’t confident that his purse would survive feeding her entire retinue as it was.

The rain was coming down even harder when they arrived at High Harbour. An empty berth awaited them, populated by a handful of figures undaunted by the inclement weather. Liam’s gaze went through the men hawking covered baskets of food and drink to settle on a thoroughly drenched boy about the same age as himself.

“Hey mister,” the boy said, “do you need wagons for your cargo?”

His question wasn’t directed at Liam but at Reed, who stood at the centre of attention of his men. The woodsman looked a bit taken aback at being seen as the one in charge.

Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

“That’s, uh…how many wagons do ya have, kid?”

“As many as ya need,” the boy replied.

I guess he’s just like I was.

Fassett Town wasn’t a river port, but it still had plenty of traffic thanks to the royal highway. Arranging transport for people going in and out of the Duchy was one of the many odd jobs that kids like himself could try their hand at. The boy on the pier likely wasn’t an employee of any particular company of caravaneers. Instead, he worked to match the needs of incoming freight with his knowledge of local caravan operators and introduced his mark to the right people for a fee. The fact that he didn’t have any competition suggested that he also had connections to the local gang – or was just a part of it – which would get rid of any other kids who tried moving in on the boy’s ‘turf’ for a cut of his earnings.

“What’s the rate?” Reed asked.

“Two silver per wagon per day,” the boy answered.

“That’s absurd!”

Countess Beaumont’s head popped out from her chambers, bearing an incredulous expression.

So much for keeping her hidden…

“Who’re you?” The boy asked.

Reed gave the boy a swat.

“That’s none of your business,” the woodsman growled.

“Your quoted rates are half again as expensive as they were last year,” Lady Beaumont said. “There should be a limit to your rampant profiteering, young man.”

“I ain’t prof…prof–doin’ that!” The boy protested, “Haven’t ya heard? There’s been a bad harvest up north.”

“What! Explain yourself!”

In response to the Countess’ demand, the boy held out his palm. Liam’s lip twitched as the young noblewoman begrudgingly instructed Claire to hand the boy two copper coins.

“The winter rains came early, m’lady,” the boy said as he pocketed his gains. “Everythin’ from Re-Blumrushur on north got soaked before the harvest. The Nobles’ve shut their granaries and the price of bread keeps goin’ up.”

Everyone’s expression immediately turned grim. The boy’s words spelt nothing less than disaster. The quality of the harvest would be poorer than usual and the wet crops would be far more labour-intensive to harvest for the already labour-strapped country. Much of what they managed to store would be lost to mould and rot. In other words, famine was all but guaranteed for the Kingdom of Re-Estize before the end of winter.

“I see,” Lady Beaumont said quietly. “Mister Reed, please go ahead and make our transport arrangements.”

“Yes, my lady.”

Liam followed the young noblewoman back into her cabin. She sank into her seat in silence, a furrow marring her unblemished brow.

“How much does this change for us, my lady?” Liam asked.

“I’m still trying to envision the full extent of the damage,” the Countess answered. “If the price of hiring a wagon has already gone up by this degree, then the harvest in the north must be especially bad. Visiting Re-Blumrushur may be far more dangerous than we expected.”

“Why?”

“Wh-Why?” Lady Beaumont’s eyelashes fluttered in confusion, “You heard that boy, yes? The Nobles have shut their granaries. That means they’re anticipating a famine and prioritising the survival of their fiefs. While this is objectively the correct course of action, it means that the city folk will be subsisting on rats and tree bark before long.”

“What about us?” Claire asked, “I don’t fancy munching on pine needles all winter myself.”

“It’s difficult to say,” the Countess bit her lip. “We have no grain harvest to withhold in the first place, but we’ve always supplemented our food supplies through foraging and hunting. Since Liam helped us thin out the wilderness threats along our border, organising hunting parties should further improve our situation. That will only go so far, however. Imported food will still make up about half of what we need to survive.”

Beaumont County was similar to Warden’s Vale in the sense that they were heavily forested territories, but Beaumont County had way more people. He sometimes overheard people in E-Rantel offer scathing commentary about Lady Zahradnik’s rule and how she mismanaged her fief by not bringing in as many people as possible to develop the land, but the disaster looming over Re-Estize was the unspoken counterargument. According to Lady Zahradnik, Warden’s Vale had never known famine and she intended to keep it that way. By contrast, the Duchy of E-Rantel and Re-Estize as a whole teetered back and forth between plenty and scarcity, which undermined progress and allowed behaviours induced by instability and lawlessness to entrench themselves in society.

Of course, the Sorcerous Kingdom didn’t have the same problems that Re-Estize did. Lawlessness was not an issue and magic could be used to create ideal conditions for agrarian industry. To many, the fact that Lady Zahradnik stood firm on her house’s past development policies only served as proof of her incompetence. Overall, she wasn’t very well-regarded in E-Rantel, considered little better than the violent, savage tribes that populated the wilderness along her border.

But is living like this any better?

Liam peered through the pouring rain at the waterlogged streets of High Harbour. Like any town, the vast majority of its residents formed the dregs of society: those consigned to vagrancy because they had no land or business to inherit. Only a handful that came to the towns and cities found any measure of success. Those who failed weren’t wanted in the first place and conveniently forgotten. Magic and land were limited, so Liam could only assume that the Sorcerous Kingdom would eventually end up the same way if it continued growing the way it was.

“My lady,” Reed’s voice leaked through from outside with the rain, “We’re done arranging for transport.”

“Thank you, Mister Reed,” Lady Beaumont said. “Were you able to hire a carriage, as well?”

“I wasn’t sure whether we needed one,” Reed replied. “It’s bound to be an uncomfortable ride.”

“You’re right,” the young noblewoman nodded. “It would be better for us to travel as we have. We can hire a carriage in the city.”

“Very good, my lady. I’ll let you know when your wagon’s ready.”

“Have you seen Olin?” Liam asked.

“He slinked off into the city with his men while I was dealin’ with that kid,” Reed said. “Probably up to the usual.”

“Alright.”

The barge shifted slightly as Reed’s men began to offload cargo. Claire and the Countess moved to put their things away before their shelter was dismantled around them.

“Liam,” the young noblewoman asked, “what did Mister Reed mean by ‘the usual’?”

“That depends on the situation,” Liam answered. “In this case, he’s gone to refill his purse by collecting syndicate dues from the local gang and using their base to house and feed his men. If he finds any promising people, he’ll recruit them for his division.”

“Some of that sounds like what Nobles do,” Lady Beaumont said.

“Yes and no,” Liam told her. “All organisations need resources and people, and the rules of a gang are a lot different from the laws of a fief. I guess the Eight Fingers are more like an evil thieves’ guild that got huge than they are like a noble house.”

“Is there such a thing as a good thieves’ guild?”

“Actually, yes,” Liam said. “There are a bunch of them who serve Queen Oriculus by regulating the Draconic Kingdom’s underworld. You don’t have to worry about Olin and his goons being so nice, though.”

“Your knowledge of this sort of thing is quite extensive,” Lady Beaumont said.

“I grew up in a town like this one,” Liam said. “It wasn’t on a river, but it was on the Royal Highway. The Count who ruled there was a real crook. I guess he was a lot like what people say Marquis Blumrush is like. His fief and subjects were just a way to gain more land, power, and influence and he didn’t care how it happened.”

“What was the name of this Count?”

“Fassett.”

Lady Beaumont frowned slightly upon hearing the name.

“If I recall correctly, Fassett County is on the western border of the Duchy of E-Rantel.”

“It was,” Liam told her. “It isn’t anymore.”

“Wh-What happened?”

“Count Fassett was executed not long after E-Rantel was annexed,” Liam said. “His kids proved to be no different from him, so House Fassett was purged and Fassett Town was destroyed.”

The young noblewoman paled upon hearing the fate of Liam’s hometown and its ruler.

“Does that mean Lady Albedo eventually intends to do the same here? B-But we’ve barely been able to do anything and we haven’t received any missives regarding our current activities…”

“If you don’t mind my asking, Lady Beaumont,” Liam said, “what had you decide that Lady Albedo is behind what’s been happening?”

As far as his information was concerned, the new faction of Nobles in Re-Estize was supposed to be filled with idiots and incompetents so wrapped up in themselves that they were far out of touch with reality. It had come as a surprise to him that the Countess operated under the assumption that the Sorcerous Kingdom was the true power behind everything right when they first met, but he figured that it was just a lucky guess. Now that she had proven that she was, in reality, not as stupid as the reports suggested, he was curious how she had arrived at her conclusion.

“There was a party hosted in the capital,” Lady Beaumont said. “I wasn’t there myself, but a few of my acquaintances in the capital duchy were more than happy to brag about it. At any rate, it was one of those functions where people go to see and be seen…but it seems that the entire affair was quite unnatural.”

“How so?” Liam asked.

“It lacked the flow and custom that is supposed to come with that kind of event,” the Countess answered. “The Eight Fingers essentially gathered a large group of disassociated houses and the Prime Minister of a foreign kingdom randomly showed up for no apparent reason. Everything about the party was both strange and unprecedented.”

“What should have happened, then?”

“Well, if one were to break the party up into its basic components, it’s clear that the Eight Fingers organised what they believed such a function should be. But it was all wrong. First of all, the Prime Minister of another country shouldn’t be lowering herself to appear before a hodgepodge collection of local aristocrats. The difference in rank is far too extreme and nothing good can happen in such an environment.

“Secondly, the Nobles present barely had any connections between one another, if any. Usually, a function like that is hosted by a single faction and any outsiders invited have been carefully selected for specific purposes. Instead, the party in the capital was factionless, with the apparent purpose of inducing its guests to form new connections with one another. The problem is that it doesn’t work that way: relationships between aristocratic houses are established for practical purposes; not because we happen to breathe the same air for a few hours.”

Liam nodded at her explanation. That made sense. Not long ago, he might have thought like whoever organised the party in the capital, but he had quickly learned the realities of ‘high society’ since being rescued from Fassett Town. While they seemed powerful and wealthy to most, Nobles still had limited resources, military power, and children to marry off. A competent Noble used what they had at their disposal to ensure the stability and prosperity of their fiefs by forging strong alliances. A Noble who was everyone’s friend was little more than a fool.

“Then what do you think the party was for?”

“It’s clear that Her Excellency the Prime Minister had ulterior motives. The party was likely a front for backroom dealings with the Sorcerous Kingdom. I can only wonder what sort of deals the Nobles present secured.”

If that was the case, it hadn’t been included in his mission briefing. The Ministry of Transportation expected Liam’s assignment to gather intelligence representative of Re-Estize’s usual economic activity. No one was supposed to be doing anything out of the ordinary aside from those related to the experiment with Countess Beaumont.

“My lady,” Reed’s voice sounded from outside again, “we’ve set up your wagon and the guys want to move the rest of the cargo.”

“Come, Claire,” Lady Beaumont said, “let’s get our things moved over.”

The two girls donned their mantles and rushed over to the covered wagon at the foot of the pier. Liam shared a long look with Reed.

“Women,” the woodsman said.

With a shake of his head, Reed and two of his men trudged up the pier with Lady Beaumont’s bags in hand. Apparently, getting their ‘things moved over’ meant having the men do all the heavy lifting.

They made camp outside of the town’s walls and the rain ceased at some point during the night. The caravaneers declared that they would depart that same day and their wagons were already rolling up the mist-shrouded path up the pass before dawn.

Olin caught up to them before midday. The Eight Fingers executive marched his men right past the Countess’ wagons to take the lead. It looked like he had picked up a few more men and a lot more confidence. Liam went to join him as they approached the top of the admittedly flat-looking pass.

“Looks like it’ll be your time to shine soon,” Liam said.

The man responded with a noncommittal grunt. Liam eyed the windswept brush that covered the highland vista on either side of the road.

“Did you learn anything about what’s happening in the city?”

“No,” Olin replied.

Minutes turned into hours as they walked alongside one another in silence, leaving Liam with plenty of time to dwell on his experiences as of late. No matter how he thought about it, the discrepancy between his reports about the so-called ‘third faction’ and his time with one of its members thus far bothered him.

“Hey, Olin,” he said. “Are those Nobles in the new faction as dumb as they say?”

Olin replied with a derisive snort.

“Don’t let that little strumpet fool you,” he said. “They’re probably dumber than you’ve heard.”

“Lady Beaumont mentioned the party in the capital,” Liam said. “She saw through a lot of it.”

“Even if she did,” Olin said dismissively, “the others didn’t. You should’ve seen it yourself. They all thought they deserved to be there; that their mere existence had value.”

“That’s technically true,” Liam noted. “Even if they’ve recently inherited, a lord still represents the interests of their fief.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Olin spat. “Like I said, you should’ve seen it yourself. The lot of ‘em are self-important fools. They even thought that Lady Albedo came to them because they were worth more than the highlords of the realm.”

“Oh,” Liam said. “That is pretty dumb. Is it the same with the group in Re-Blumrushur? That sounds pretty annoying to deal with.”

“You’ll see for yourself,” Olin said. “Hopefully, you can convince Lady Albedo to let us get rid of at least half of ‘em.”

“Olin!”

On the road ahead, one of Olin’s men cantered his horse towards them. Liam and Olin looked up at the rider expectantly as he reined in his horse before them.

“Well?” Olin said, “Spit it out!”

“It’s Re-Blumrushur,” the man said as he pointed a gloved hand beyond the top of the pass. “The whole damn city’s on fire.”