Valkyrie's Shadow #1-100
Author: Aeridinae Lunaris
Date: 2021-07-22T00:00:00+00:00
Publisher: anonymous

Table Of Contents

- Table Of Contents -
Birthright: Prelude, Part 1
Birthright: Prelude, Part 2
Birthright: Act 1, Chapter 1
Birthright: Act 1, Chapter 2
Birthright: Act 1, Chapter 3
Birthright: Act 1, Chapter 4
Birthright: Act 1, Chapter 5
Birthright: Act 1, Chapter 6
Birthright: Act 1, Chapter 7
Birthright: Act 1, Chapter 8
Birthright: Act 1, Chapter 9
Birthright: Act 1, Chapter 10
Birthright: Act 1, Chapter 11
Birthright: Act 1, Chapter 12
Birthright: Act 1, Chapter 13
Birthright: Act 1, Chapter 14
Birthright: Act 1, Chapter 15
Birthright: Act 1, Chapter 16
Birthright: Act 2, Chapter 1
Birthright: Act 2, Chapter 2
Birthright: Act 2, Chapter 3
Birthright: Act 2, Chapter 4
Birthright: Act 2, Chapter 5
Birthright: Act 2, Chapter 6
Birthright: Act 2, Chapter 7
Birthright: Act 2, Chapter 8
Birthright: Act 2, Chapter 9
Birthright: Act 2, Chapter 10
Birthright: Act 2, Chapter 11
Birthright: Act 2, Chapter 12
Birthright: Act 2, Chapter 13
Birthright: Act 2, Chapter 14
Birthright: Act 2, Chapter 15
Birthright: Act 2, Chapter 16
Birthright: Act 2, Chapter 17
Birthright: Act 2, Chapter 18
Birthright: Act 2, Chapter 19
Birthright: Act 2, Chapter 20
Birthright: Act 2, Chapter 21
Birthright: Act 2, Chapter 22
Birthright: Act 2, Chapter 23
Birthright: Act 2, Chapter 24
Birthright: Act 2, Chapter 25
Birthright: Act 3, Chapter 1
Birthright: Act 3, Chapter 2
Birthright: Act 3, Chapter 3
Birthright: Act 3, Chapter 4
Birthright: Act 3, Chapter 5
Birthright: Act 3, Chapter 6
Birthright: Act 3, Chapter 7
Birthright: Act 3, Chapter 8
Birthright: Act 3, Chapter 9
Birthright: Act 3, Chapter 10
Birthright: Act 3, Chapter 11
Birthright: Act 3, Chapter 12
Birthright: Act 3, Chapter 13
Birthright: Act 3, Chapter 14
Birthright: Act 3, Chapter 15
Birthright: Act 3, Chapter 16
Birthright: Act 3, Chapter 17
Birthright: Act 3, Chapter 18
Birthright: Act 3, Chapter 19
Birthright: Act 3, Chapter 20
Birthright: Act 3, Chapter 21
Birthright: Act 3, Chapter 22
Birthright: Act 4, Chapter 1
Birthright: Act 4, Chapter 2
Birthright: Act 4, Chapter 3
Birthright: Act 4, Chapter 4
Birthright: Act 4, Chapter 5
Birthright: Act 4, Chapter 6
Birthright: Act 4, Chapter 7
Birthright: Act 4, Chapter 8
Birthright: Act 4, Chapter 9
Birthright: Act 4, Chapter 10
Birthright: Act 4, Chapter 11
Birthright: Act 4, Chapter 12
Birthright: Act 4, Chapter 13
Birthright: Act 4, Chapter 14
Birthright: Act 4, Chapter 15
Birthright: Act 4, Chapter 16
Birthright: Act 4, Chapter 17
Birthright: Act 4, Chapter 18
Birthright: Act 4, Chapter 19
Birthright: Act 4, Chapter 20
Birthright: Act 4, Chapter 21
Birthright: Act 4, Chapter 22
Birthright: Act 4, Chapter 23
Birthright: Act 4, Chapter 24
Birthright: Act 4, Chapter 25
Birthright: Act 5, Chapter 1
Birthright: Act 5, Chapter 2
Birthright: Act 5, Chapter 3
Birthright: Act 5, Chapter 4
Birthright: Act 5, Chapter 5
Birthright: Act 5, Chapter 6
Birthright: Act 5, Chapter 7
Birthright: Act 5, Chapter 8
Birthright: Act 5, Chapter 9
Birthright: Act 5, Chapter 10
Birthright: Act 5, Chapter 11

Birthright: Prelude, Part 1

Prelude

“Haaahhh~”

A prodigious sigh arose from behind him. It was a sound filled with equal parts annoyance, frustration and fatigue – as if one’s soul had been stretched thin and would dissipate like their misted breath in the frigid spring air. The drawn-out expression prompted the man to shift his body to look towards his companion: a woman seated astride a handsome mount that trotted after his own.

She was dressed plainly, in a clean set of traveller’s garments; wrapped in a brown cloak that tumbled past her horse’s flanks. Silky black hair – which somehow maintained its gleaming lustre despite long days of riding on rough country roads – was tied up in a loose ponytail that lightly streamed back and forth in the morning breeze. In her hands, she grasped an unfurled roll of parchment; her face was painted with an expression of irritation.

It gave an edge to her cold beauty, which – much to his own bemusement – had become something of a commodity in itself amongst some of the locals. Had he not known better, he might have assumed that it was the content of the parchment that was the source of her vexation...but he possessed a copy of it as well.

It was a map: a rough copy prepared from one that was found filed away in the civil offices of E-Rantel, detailing the southern regions of its duchy.

He had seen the original himself – its aged vellum cracked and yellowed despite careful attempts at preservation over the years: a meticulous survey done generations ago when the Kingdom of Re-Estize was near the height of its prosperity.

Laid upon it was a burgeoning frontier in the midst of expansion. The primal woodlands of the wilderness had been cleared away to make room for farms and pastures. Aristocratic manors spotted the fiefs on the map, carefully positioned on a network of well-travelled earthen roads. A multitude of hamlets and villages had sprouted up around them, filled with hopeful immigrants from the more populated regions of the Kingdom and beyond – pioneers cultivating the land to build a future of their own.

It was a map that spoke of a bright future. It was a time where order ruled and enterprising Adventurers tamed the wild borderlands surrounding the fledgling town that would grow to become E-Rantel, forging the way for settlement and industry. The House of Vaiself put its full support behind the expansion, investing heavily in both manpower and materials. When suitable lands were cleared, new titles were bestowed on those of appropriate merit, and so this cycle continued until the duchy had expanded all the way into the foothills of the border ranges to the south.

It was a map made generations ago; yet now, barely a trace of the scenery depicted by its features could be found in their surroundings. But it was not the feeling of betrayed expectations, he knew, that drew the heavy sigh from the woman behind him.

If she was aware of his gaze, she did not show any sign of it. She simply continued to scowl at the map as if her glare could ignite the thin piece of paper and scatter its ashes to the wind. Most likely, he mused, she was imagining the inhabitants: Humans, toiling in their simple fields and pastures; milling about in their meagre hamlets and villages. Tens of thousands of Humans squirming across the face of her map like a writhing infestation that threatened to crawl off the parchment, onto her fingers and up her arm.

He suppressed a smirk as he turned back around to face forward, though no one could have possibly seen it under the pitch-black metal of his fully-enclosed helm. While he did not exactly empathize with her feelings, as a fellow Doppelganger he understood the root of them.

The vast majority of their species nurtured a natural disdain of those not of their own, bordering on a malignant, almost xenophobic hatred. While their place as denizens of Nazarick meant that they got along well enough with fellow servants of the Supreme Beings, it also meant that outsiders earned a double serving of both a Doppelganger's natural ire and the sense that accompanied their existence as wretched, misbegotten creatures: unblessed by the touch of their Creators.

Personally, he did not lend himself much to these feelings, but he was still plagued by a mild irritation of a different sort that steadily grew as their journey progressed further.

To curb the inevitable wave of citizens fleeing at the news of Re-Estize’s catastrophic defeat on the Katze Plains, they had been immediately dispatched as Momon and Nabe: the Adamantite adventurers of Darkness. Their objective was to calm the rural population with their presence in an effort to stem the tide of refugees from crossing the borders.

When they had departed on their mission, gently rolling fields lay fallow through the winter, undisturbed after the autumn harvest. The roads leading west were well worn and everywhere evidence could be seen of rural products having been readied for delivery to the winter markets. Much of it had already disappeared, carried away by the desperate tide.

It had seemed like a straightforward task at first; the groundwork for their mission had been laid out by the magnificent foresight of their Master. The fame of Darkness had spread far and wide; their reputation beyond any conceivable reproach. The labourers that still remained around the villages unbent themselves from their labours to cheer and wave as they passed. Wherever they stopped, men and women would gather about them with hope and excitement; whenever they spoke, everyone would give their full attention and support.

Many of the wealthiest families in the fiefs that straddled the paved highway leading westward towards the Kingdom seemed to have already gotten wind of recent events and had fled the duchy out of fear, so they spent little time with the accompanying formalities as they visited the towns, villages and hundreds of hamlets spread out over vast stretches of rural land.

However, as their journey turned southwards and the days and weeks passed, the farmlands grew more sparse...as did the people supposedly tending to them. Fields and pastures transformed into grassland and meadows dotted with small groves of aspen and other poplars. Eventually, the lands along the roads could no longer be recognized as anything resembling fields and patches of young forest grew more prevalent. The wide, open roads had become little more than shadowed footpaths with sunlight filtering down through gaps in the thick web of branches overhead. At this point in their journey, these roads could just as easily have been mistaken for old animal trails amongst the dense undergrowth but for the fact that they were unnaturally straight.

The route that they currently travelled was marked on the map as part of a network of trails wide enough for wagons and carts, crisscrossing the landscape and linking the myriad farming communities leading through to the southern frontier. In reality, however, it had become more and more dilapidated and overgrown the further they travelled.

If not for the Aura, who had ranged across the area with her own detachment weeks previous and later explained that the map was indeed correct – that the wilderness had simply reclaimed the land over time – he might have written it off as a whimsical fancy concocted by some blustering bureaucrat trapped behind a desk in the city. Even his Creator, who now styled himself Ainz Ooal Gown, marveled at the land's ability to restore itself to its natural state.

“Momon-san.”

A soft, dispassionate voice from behind roused him from his recollections. He raised his head to scan the surroundings ahead of them. Slightly off the path at the crest of the ridge that they were currently scaling, not ten paces into the forest, a small building stood overgrown and shadowed by creeping vines. It appeared to have sunk into the ground somewhat, or perhaps layers of humus had built up around it over the years.

“I see it, Nabe,” he slowed his mount to a stop as his companion followed suit. “What did they find?”

As if on cue, a figure materialized out of the dimly-lit undergrowth nearby to Narberal. It was one of the many Hanzos deployed alongside them, combing the terrain ahead as both an escort and a reconnaissance force for their mission. Narberal leaned forward to receive its report with thanks – without their tireless work, covering the entire region would have taken ages.

“It’s an old sentry post,” she stated flatly. “Abandoned years ago.”

“Umu,” he nodded, urging his mount forward once again.

They had come across similar sights all along their journey once they had left the immediate vicinity of E-Rantel. Though some places had been abandoned in fear by their inhabitants and those that ruled over them upon hearing of the Kingdom’s defeat at the hands of the Undead Sorcerer King, most recounted a tale that was decades in the making.

The region had seen great growth in the past, but at some point it had begun to stagnate for reasons unknown to the current population. Though she would probably not admit it personally, this concerned the Guardian Overseer and Albedo had gone to great lengths to pore over past tax and census records in an effort to discover the cause. She could only infer that when the region had grown to a certain size, the resources and manpower used to expand the Kingdom’s territory had to be diverted towards policing and maintaining the land and it’s influx of immigrants.

Over a stack of old archival tomes, she explained how after the first generation of settlers passed their lands on to their descendants, their burdens began to pile up at an ever accelerating rate. Expenditures for security against monsters, Demihumans and bandits grew until they could no longer be maintained by taxation. The militia could only man the largest of population centres and adventurers could only be afforded as a stopgap measure against the most apparent and dire of threats. Roads became wrought with hazards and commerce slowed to a crawl as the dangers increased. With the land no longer safe and prosperous, immigration had ground to a halt. Over the years, outlying settlements were abandoned in turn until only nature was left to reclaim what had been taken from it.

“Those inferior lifeforms should have never crawled out of their holes,” Albedo’s words dripped with equal parts venom and disdain. “No matter what they may aspire to, worms will always be worms: destined to squirm beneath the ground.”

This slow and steady decay continued until the present day, where they bore witness to the dismal end of the tale. As both the Guardian and curator of Nazarick’s treasury, it both shocked and appalled him that the Kingdom could let its territory and possessions reach such a decrepit state. What had initially been irritation slowly rose to anger within him at the sight of every abandoned farm and village; every rusted plough and collapsed cottage. He continued to fume as he looked upon the painstakingly laid out network of run-down roads choked by vegetation with their aged sentry towers fallen into disrepair and ruin.

At one point he had imagined the Great Tomb of Nazarick in such a state and it filled him with such fury that even Narberal, who was often teased for being oblivious by her sisters, could feel the rage emanating from him and surreptitiously scurried further down the trail – though she never knew exactly why.

Shortly thereafter, he reined in his feelings on the matter so Narberal would stop shying away from him, though they still simmered beneath the surface somewhere. He consoled himself with the fact that this land was now under the dominion of Ainz Ooal Gown, and under his Master’s guidance and protection it would soon be vaulted beyond its former glory and fashioned into something suitable enough to be called a possession of the Supreme Beings.

“Furthermore,” Narberal continued, “the settlement at the end of the trail still seems to be intact and occupied.”

Pandora’s Actor, who had fallen to brooding at the first piece of news, looked once again to the crest of the ridge with interest.

“Hoh…” this was unexpected, indeed. “So at the end of all these ruined farmsteads and forgotten paths, something still stands? Let us see what manner of people can endure where all others have failed.”

Articles both valuable and remarkable were of keen interest to Pandora’s Actor. Like his creator, he was a collector; the idea that something unprecedented lay just beyond the next hill was a tantalizing thought with the otherwise unremarkable journey that they had made. Though nothing in this world that he had witnessed so far could hope to compare to what lay within the vaults of Nazarick, to discover articles both exotic and rare – to catalogue and ascertain their value – was a pleasure in and of itself.

Birthright: Prelude, Part 2

As it turned out, nothing turned up to greet them as they crested the top of the ridge. No pastoral vistas; no bustling town arrayed before them on the other side. What they found on the other side was actually the edge of a deep gully, and only the frayed ends of a broken rope bridge remained on their side of the gap. Far below, hidden by the trees and brush laid bare by the brief passing of winter, he heard the trickling of water and little else but wind through the branches. No sign of the old road remained far away on the opposite side, but a rough path branched from the opening of the trail down a rocky course before disappearing into the trees below.

Pandora’s Actor debated whether he should simply leap across and try to find the remains of the road, as the Hanzos did not specify which route had led to their discovery. After a moment, he decided to descend down the rocky trail that seemed to have at least seen recent use. Swinging off of his mount, he unsummoned it as he landed lightly on his feet.

“Let’s head down,” he said. “Did the Hanzo report anything else about what lies ahead?”

Narberal shook her head as she followed suit, dismissing her own steed and taking a moment to straighten out her attire.

Pandora’s Actor turned his attention towards the trail again after receiving her negative response. Perhaps he should have had the Hanzo report to him directly; at least it would have been able to offer its thoughts to him so he would have a better idea of what lay ahead. Then again, hierarchy was important – he did not wish to deprive Narberal of her cherished role in their duty.

In the end, he felt that it was fine as long as he did not lose the trail and leapt down several dozen metres at a time. The manner by which he alighted on outcroppings of rock on the way to the bottom of the gully was greatly at odds with the apparent weight of his full plate armour and twin greatswords. Narberal cast Fly on herself and floated down after him. Within a few breaths, he landed with a shallow splash in the creek that he had heard from far above.

The rugged trail followed alongside the clear rush of water downstream, where daylight filled an opening in the distance. Narberal had gone ahead and her silhouette could be seen floating over the water where the creek left the trees, body slowly pivoting in midair as she surveyed her surroundings.

He joined her a minute later, casually striding out from under the branches and into the open air. The stream’s course continued a short distance before cascading sharply down a series of falls until it joined with a broad river. The trail that they had been following crossed the creek a few metres before the first dropoff. Some old, mismatched planks were laid across the shallows there to provide footing for travellers, held in place by large stones.

Now clear of obscuring forest, the trail offered a commanding vantage over the vista that lay before them. The river below cut deeply through the foot of the Southern Border Ranges, carving sheer, rugged cliffs several hundred metres high that towered over the far shore. Entering from between the cliffs to the southwest, it rounded a small, rocky hill at the head of the valley, flowing northwards until it passed where they currently stood. The river disappeared into a steep canyon to continue its journey towards the fertile lowlands.

A thick veil of morning mist shrouded the bottom of most of the wide vale that stretched up the river’s course, with only the crown of the distant hill visible in the far end. The forested slopes on the western side of the valley were not as imposing as the cliffs along the far shore, but still rose steeply enough to be considered impassable to the average Human. Beyond the river vale, the wilderness ranges rose in stark relief to the layer of fog over the valley floor, laced with fresh spring snows.

It was not surprising that Narberal had stopped to look around at this point – there was a wealth of information to take in instantly upon leaving the trees. Combined with the exposed nature of the trail, it was a perfect location to lay an ambush for the unprepared. Yet beyond the tumult of the falls and the rush of the wind that whistled past them on its way south through the valley, no challenge appeared.

His companion appeared to be unwilling to stand down from her vigil so he took the lead instead, following the narrow path down into the fog. It led the rest of the way down to the valley floor, where it joined with the riverbank. Though the trail they had been following saw signs of recent use, there was no trace of tracks leading through the wet sand.

The mist slowly dissipated as the morning advanced, though not yet to the point where he could see much beyond their immediate surroundings. The sound of the river current and the odor of damp vegetation filled his senses. The moisture hanging heavily in the air seemed to cling to his cloak and work its way into the joints of his armour. He did not particularly mind the conditions, but he couldn't imagine humans wanting to live in such an environment.

As he pondered this, Narberal soundlessly floated down beside him, wordlessly ending her enchantment. She shook her head as he looked to her questioningly.

“Only the hill ahead stands out in this fog,” she said. “I could make out little else.”

Her face held a neutral expression as she spoke. Even when with other denizens of Nazarick, she was ever succinct in her dialogue. He motioned for her to lead the way and followed her up along the shore of the river.

As their destination loomed into view, they slowed their rapid pace to take in the features of the rocky mound that rose before them.

The settlement reported by the Hanzo was little more than what it sounded. A bare handful of what were unmistakably hovels constructed of soil, wooden panels and loose stone were built into narrow terraces cut from the hillside. There were few proper buildings that could be seen: aside from the crude manor built halfway up the ascent, which also seemed to be built into the hill like the rest of the homes that could be seen, there was another that looked to be a small warehouse below it. An unremarkable stone shrine stood at the top of the hill and a simple pathway laced haphazardly with rocks of various sizes wove its way down from the shrine, through the buildings and onwards towards the pebbled beaches of the riverbank below.

From the manor halfway up the hill, a wisp of blue-grey smoke rose lazily into the air. Pandora’s Actor spotted a person’s face in the window looking straight down at them, but before he could raise his hand in greeting, it vanished behind thin curtains.

“Tsk.” Narberal clicked her tongue in annoyance to his side – the first-hand confirmation of the settlement being inhabited had visibly soured her mood.

As the pair approached the point where the path from the settlement disappeared into coarse sand, the door of the manor swung inwards. From their vantage at the bottom of the hill, they could see the head of a spear appear from the shadow of the doorway. Before it could clear the entrance, however, it jerked unexpectedly and fell to the floor with a clatter. He pondered whether Momon would have stepped forward to assist this apparently troubled individual, but, unable to see what he was dealing with, he decided to stay beside Narberal at the edge of the village.

Eventually, the spear rose again, its head wobbling in the air as it was lifted back up. It finally left the doorway, carried by what appeared to be a giant bolt of fabric. Any remaining semblance of tension slowly turned into impatience as the caricature took several minutes to descend the path down to where they stood.

As it turned out, the curious figure was the same person that they had seen in the manor window upon their arrival: an adolescent human girl who could be no older than her mid-teens. Perhaps older? Unlike the concretely-defined existences created by the Supreme Beings, these strange peoples were so variable that he and the others often found it difficult to discern their qualities from outward appearance alone.

She was wearing a gambeson that was most certainly meant for a much larger man, which resulted in the thick, padded layers giving her the odd appearance he had noted as she made her way down. Its hem hung down past her knees and the absence of a belt caused the entire weight of the suit to hang heavily upon her shoulders. Loose strands of dark chestnut hair poked out from under a simple leather cap that was strapped onto her head. The girl slowed to an unsteady stop before them; the panicked trek down the hillside in the ill-fitting and oversized equipment having taken its toll on her slender frame.

However, as her gaze passed over them, the spear came up. Raised to her shoulder, the blade of her polearm was leveled directly at them.

To his side, Narberal bristled at the action and Pandora’s Actor quickly raised his hands in a disarming manner.

“We are Momon and Nabe of Darkness,” he announced in a calm and confident tone. “You may have heard of us.”

The fame of Darkness had spread far and wide; many people throughout this land could even recognize them on sight. But far out on the isolated frontier of what was formerly the Kingdom of Re-Estize, it was possible that they were entirely unheard of. In that case, they were simply a pair of dangerously armed and imposing strangers that had suddenly appeared out of the mist with no prior invitation or warning.

Seeing that the girl did not lower her guard, he cleared his throat and shifted into a less aggressive stance to continue.

“As you may know,” he said, “this duchy has come under the dominion of the Sorcerous Kingdom as a result of the battle at Katze Plains. We have come to deliver a missive from the capital to all landed nobles of E-Rantel. Is Bar…”

The voice of Momon trailed off in the midst of his delivery. Pandora’s Actor sensed that something was off.

Throughout what he gauged to be a relaxed and casual introduction, the waves of alarm and fear coming off of the girl had not subsided. He quickly reviewed the scenario in his mind, seeking out faults in his own performance. Then, with a start, he realized that he had let down his guard.

As he had shifted his body, the girl had maintained her crude stance. Yet the head of the spear did not follow him – the much larger and more threatening in appearance between the two Adventurers – as he moved. It remained leveled at the source of her fear.

At Narberal.

Als tiger gestartet und als bettvorleger gelandet!

The idiom came to his mind unbidden and it took substantial effort to not blurt it out aloud.

When he had initially received his role as Momon, he believed it to be the perfect opportunity to employ his skills in the service of his creator – the perfect casting. Thrust onto a stage where he was showered with the praise and adoration of the citizens, he had employed his natural abilities as a Doppelganger to draw from the hopes and expectations of the people. By doing so, he was able to enhance his performance and drive the already legendary image of The Dark Warrior to ever greater heights. It was a simple task by his own estimation, yet at the same time supremely gratifying to fulfil a role that he had been seemingly born for.

As they entered lands that were increasingly abandoned, however, he had lapsed in the use of these powers with no audience to witness his performance. The result of this misstep was that an irregularity had slowly approached them in plain view, coming within striking range without him even being aware of the threat that she represented. He counted it fortunate that the witnesses to his mortifying oversight were few.

Resolving to salvage this unacceptable development, he immediately reached into the mind of the girl standing before them to skim her thoughts with his abilities. While he believed that there was little chance this young human presented any direct physical threat to either Narberal or himself, there was still the matter of what was causing her distress and how it could lead to affect some imperceptible future.

It did not take long to recognize the initial sensation; he had felt this fear before. Just a few days ago, after weeks of practice on the field, he had teleported back to E-Rantel to play his part in his Master’s triumphal entry into the city. It was the same emotion that rode through the Human onlookers when the Sorcerer King first entered E-Rantel. A fear born of horror; a terror that either paralyzed one where they stood, or drove them to act. To fight; flee – do anything to survive. A primal fear reserved for the monsters and inhuman enemies that lurked beyond the safety of their cities and villages.

Yet Narberal did not hold such an appearance. By Human measure, she was a woman whose sharp manner and exotic features exuded a cold beauty that drew the admiration and envy of all who encountered her.

Pandora’s Actor frowned at the incongruity as he navigated the waves of the girl’s overpowering emotions back into her mind until he could finally look out from her thoughts. Normally, it would be a challenge to read anything beyond surface thoughts, but in her distressed state the girl was laying her mind bare to psionic intrusion: the undisciplined mind of a low level individual, broadcasting her fear-ridden thoughts to any who would care to peruse them.

His field of vision lowered; he saw the haft of a spear and the gloved hand that held it fearfully directed at its target. Ragged, heavy breathing caused the tarnished blade to rise and fall unsteadily. Beyond his own figure, standing slightly to the side, the weapon was pointed directly at his companion.

Above the simple traveller’s garb covered by the plain-looking brown cloak was a smooth, pale visage that looked directly back at her with empty eyes. Despite being devoid of features, a withering aura of hostility could be felt coming from her. After lingering for a moment, he noticed what should have been Narberal's Human appearance faintly superimposed over her natural face. A quick note of Narberal’s hand showed that she still had her Ring of Non-Detection equipped…

Pandora’s Actor withdrew from the girl’s thoughts and gathered his own. Enchantments that allowed the recipient to pierce through illusions, defeat magical concealment and even see through abilities that changed one’s form were not unheard of – many casters within Nazarick were capable of the spell which replicated the effects of this sense. As part of his preparations in assuming the role of Momon, he had pored over the information collected since their arrival in this strange new world for any threats that could foil his guise.

Amongst the Humans of this world that they knew of, there were scant few. The closest, according to the reports, was a Cleric based hundreds of kilometres away in the royal capital of Re-Estize. Even then, the frightened girl standing before them did not match her description. No matter which way he looked at her, this young girl in ill-fitting armour had neither the bearing of a bold Adventurer, nor the vestments of a distinguished member of a priesthood, nor the appearance of a powerful – by the standards of this world – mage.

If anything, this girl resembled nothing more than an ordinary Human: one they could have encountered anywhere along their travels. It was a thought that sent a cold tendril of anxiety down his back over what could have been.

There were many mysteries in this world that they had suddenly found themselves in; things unheard of in Yggdrasil. This girl appeared to be one of them: something the Humans in the surrounding regions referred to as a 'Talent Holder'. They were exceedingly uncommon and usually never completely identical to one another. In fact, an individual that manifested such an ability was not guaranteed that it would ever be applicable in their ordinary lives. She may even have gone her entire life without realizing her own Talent; Re-Estize as a nation was, to be nice about it, not very advanced in terms of magic – her daily interactions would not have had her see very much more than her fellow Humans.

However, that would no longer be the case. The machinations of his Master would soon give rise to a nation of unprecedented mystical might; a nation filled with a multitude of peoples that would quickly render her Talent self-apparent. That this girl ended up with an ability that she could make immediate practical use out of meant that she was a proverbial diamond in the rough. Whether she could be used to forward his Master’s goals, however, was yet to be seen.

A rare item indeed, thought Pandora’s Actor as he raised a gauntleted hand to his helmet.

Birthright: Act 1, Chapter 1

(Author's Note: In Kugane Maruyama's Overlord, the 'Genius' modifier is indicative of high aptitude in a particular class and its associated skillsets. Though certain characters may appear to be broadly proficient as a result, this modifier has no direct relation to intellect by our current measures.)

Class Highlight: Noble Fighter

From the brash tales of bawdy musicians in seedy taverns to the sweeping epics of eloquent minstrels in the highest imperial courts, the annals of history sing the tales of storied nobles who wield both pen and sword with equal proficiency. They rule wisely from their high courts and lead grand armies on the field; performing legendary acts of valour in service of king and country.

The Noble Fighter is a living manifestation of this history, frequently appearing as nations rise and necessity drives their leaders to become directly involved in the security and direction of its nascent territories. As a variant of the Fighter class, they forego the general freedom that is usually associated with a Fighter’s non-combat skillset, instead specializing in the disciplines that revolve around leadership and administration while retaining the Fighter class’ personal martial prowess.

As feudal societies achieve a greater measure of security, stability and prosperity, Noble Fighters become increasingly scarce. However, while aristocrats of pure civilian focus become more prolific as nations develop to maturity, Noble Fighters may still be found where duty or necessity demands their presence. Scions with no realistic prospect of inheritance may seek a martial path, aspiring to serve as a member of a noble retinue, professional army or knightly order while retaining their aristocratic ties. Regions with strong military traditions or fiefs wherein noble houses are expected to guard the realm against foreign threats will also tend to produce Noble Fighters from within the ranks of their ruling elite.

Contrary to the flowery image painted by romantic tales, Noble Fighters are not necessarily benevolent. They are exemplars of militant aristocracy, striving to uphold a well-rounded portfolio of effective governance, leadership and martial proficiency expressed through actions that may range throughout the moral spectrum.

Chapter 1

The sound of a distant bell arose from below, its sharp toll rolling up from the riverbank and washing over the buildings of the village on the hill. They were of simple construction: affairs of sod and stone visibly overgrown by creeping vines and layers of thick, green moss. Little but their humble faces peeked out from the weathered terraces cut deep into the rocky slopes by generations long gone; such was their appearance that even a lowly farmhand from the fertile lowlands might have scoffed.

The inhabitants of the village were well accustomed to their homes, however, and would have politely ignored such derision as they were generally satisfied with their current arrangement. The hill stood near the head of a long valley with high slopes that were nearly impassable by Human measure. A large river ran its course around the hill and northwards through to the narrow gorge beyond while a vast and marshy floodplain filled most of the valley floor. Approaches by land were treacherous in addition to being highly vulnerable and difficult to conceal. Even lacking the walls one might find around larger towns and cities, the layered terraces of the village stood as effective ramparts against all but the most determined of savage and lawless raiders.

A more militant mind might have noted all these qualities and inferred that the settlement was built with defence in mind; they would have been exactly right. Warden’s Vale lay in the shadow of the Southern Border Ranges, at the far southwestern reaches of the Duchy of E-Rantel. It was the seat of House Zahradnik, one of the noble lineages that guarded the frontiers of the Kingdom of Re-Estize. Beyond the Vale lay an increasingly vast wilderness: populated by Demihuman tribes, monsters and worse.

It was an island of relative safety in a land otherwise hostile to Human habitation. The homes nestled in the hill were well-insulated and offered warmth in the highlands where the deep winter months were often visited by biting cold and blankets of snow. Through generations of stubborn vigilance, the hardy frontiersmen had carved out a permanent presence that was now left mostly uncontested by their neighbors – simply put, they had proven that they were more trouble than they were worth.

Roughly halfway up the hill, a single dwelling stood distinct from the rest. The lord’s manor possessed the same simple construction as the other homes built around it, save for a large extension constructed out of well-worn wood which jutted out conspicuously onto the widened terrace that it was built on. This space served as the main hall of the manor: the office of the Barony.

Its thin wooden walls did very little to dampen the sound coming from below and the hall was soon filled with the bell’s lonely peal where only the scratching of quill on parchment could be heard just moments before. The slim hand which was guiding the quill rose at the sound, arresting the instrument’s flowing dance and raising it over its simple stage as dark ink dried below. After several moments of silence, the bell repeated its urgent call for attention and the grey goose quill was carefully set aside.

Ludmila raised her head with a slight furrow on her brow, turning to look out of the window that spilled light over the well-worn wooden desk. The bell was used for a handful of purposes: calling the faithful to religious services, an alarm for fire and flood, rallying the villagers against external threats and for communication along the river. Though the distinct pattern was recognizable as the last of these, she still scanned the immediate surroundings in the yard and village before directing her vision further beyond.

It was a clear afternoon – rare for late winter on the edge of the border ranges. The sun was well past its zenith, approaching the western ridge that overlooked the valley wherein the settlement lay; casting long shadows over its soggy flats. In the distance where the river disappeared into the gorge to the north, a billowing sail caught the light of the afternoon sun; immediately drawing the attention of any observer that happened to look in its direction.

It was a familiar sight, yet entirely unexpected. There were only two ports on the river and the single vessel that currently operated between them was the one owned and operated by their own village. As the winds blowing southwards up the valley coaxed the ship upstream, the bell’s call remained unanswered; each pause and repetition only served to punctuate a growing sense of unease.

Rising from her seat, she cleaned her ink-stained fingers on a damp rag tied to a corner of the desk before picking up the simple leather-bound ledger she had been working out of. She blew lightly on its open pages in an effort to help the ink dry as she made her way to a cabinet at the back of the hall, the keyring on her belt jingling as she padded across the stone floor. After carefully putting away her work and securing the lock on the cabinet, she snatched a plain, unembroidered shawl that was draped over a chair in the dining area. Ludmila retraced her way back through the hall towards the manor entrance, her steps slowing slightly as she focused on wrapping the cloth securely about her head and shoulders.

The frigid air carried by the winds of winter greeted her as she opened the door and made her way onto the narrow lane leading from her home. Though the layered fabrics of her dress blocked out most of the cold, wisps of air still occasionally seeped through to nibble at her skin. With the ship steadily making its way up the river to the pier, she paid it little mind. It had barely been a fortnight since the vessel had last left; bearing away Baron Zahradnik and many of the men of the village: a levy raised to defend the Kingdom of Re-Estize against an uncharacteristically late challenge presented this year by the Baharuth Empire.

In truth, it had long since become an annual occurrence so there was very little fuss surrounding it. By all accounts, the two sides would meet with their armies on the cursed fields of the Katze Plains and skirmish halfheartedly before withdrawing. This would continue over the course of several weeks before honour was satisfied and both sides struck their camps to return home. The Empire always seemed focused on conserving the fighting strength of its Legions and refused to commit to a pitched battle. Similarly, the forces of the Kingdom had no reason to go on the offence – and no reason to deplete the levies formed out of their everyday pool of labour – so casualties were relatively light for both sides. Most years, the seasoned men of the frontier village would return with barely a scratch.

The great houses of Re-Estize would use the campaign season to posture and jockey for prestige and influence, but to the nobles of Re-Estize who did not attend the Royal Court, it was generally an annoyance that drew manpower away during the harvest season while disrupting the productivity and flow of goods throughout the realm. With the call to arms being so late this year, however, the fields had long since been cleared and it was received as an almost welcome distraction for the men. They would otherwise likely be driving their families crazy while being cooped up around their homes as the cold, short winter days wore on. Still, they were not expected back for at least a full month after their departure, perhaps even two.

Ludmila made her way past the cozy abodes of the villagers and down the rugged lane towards the riverbank. The main passage that wound through the village was laid with uneven stones of various sizes, hauled up from the shore. It was something that had happened over time as the villagers acted to make the often muddy slope of the trail easier to scale, resulting in a makeshift cobblestone path. Wooden planks in various stages of wear served as simple steps over its steepest portions.

She mulled over the possibilities that could result in an early return, but couldn’t come up with anything that made any real sense given what she knew. Many of the villagers had come out of their homes by now, curiously looking out towards the approaching vessel. In this isolated valley on the Kingdom’s southern border, life was mostly slow and uneventful so this sort of occurrence was what amounted to a major event. Some followed after her as she passed by while others simply stood about gathered with their neighbors in small groups as they spectated from a distance.

By the time she reached the base of the hill, there was a modest crowd of people already waiting for the boat’s arrival. Nearly all were women related to the men that had been drafted as part of the levy and most looked on anxiously with the same confused atmosphere that had followed Ludmila on her way down the terraced path. Though they were mostly dressed in a similar fashion to herself, all made room as she approached, nodding respectfully in silent recognition.

At the spot along the shore where the pier extended out into the river there was a large brass bell that hung on its wooden frame; well worn through countless years of service but still carefully maintained. It was from here that the periodic signalling that had urged her to step away from her work and investigate had issued forth. A girl several years younger than her stood under it with her hand gripping the sally: she recognized her as the younger sister of one of the men who regularly served as part of the fief’s patrols – the girl had taken up sentry duty in her brother’s absence.

Ludmila stood a short distance away as the girl repeated the signal. There was a long pause as the operator waited once again for a response...

Nothing.

The furrow on Ludmila’s brow appeared once again – if one of her brothers had been there to look at her face, he would have probably teased her about getting wrinkles before twenty. However, there were few who knew how to navigate ships on the river and all of them should have known how to communicate along it. This lack of a response filled her with disquieting notions: images of a ship concealing bandits or Demihuman raiders began to form in her mind. Though she had never heard of such a thing happening before in this area of Re-Estize, she was at a complete loss as to what was going on and her imagination began to formulate fantastical scenarios with the unknowns presented.

After failing to solicit a response from the approaching vessel yet again, the girl looked to Ludmila. The worried expression on her face seemed to ask whether she had improperly sounded, since the approaching vessel had never answered. Ludmila could only smile slightly while placing a hand over the girl’s shoulder reassuringly as she gently guided her away from the edge of the water with the ship looming ever closer.

By now, she could clearly make out the details and the murmur that rose from the common folk around her mirrored her own thoughts. The ship was now irrefutably recognizable as the one that belonged to the village. It was a nameless craft of shallow draught that had seen decades of use: its billowing sail and wooden construction were a patchwork of repairs and improvements that marked the tale of its long service to the Barony.

Aside from a man working the rudder to guide the vessel upriver, no one else could be seen. When the ship had departed earlier in the winter, it carried just over three dozen passengers – which was around three quarters of the seasoned men available. They were all in good spirits and sat tall amongst the equipment and supplies that would follow them to war. Their distinct absence on the ship created a collective sense of unease that steadily grew over the gathering on the shore.

At Ludmila’s direction, two stout, middle-aged housewives tied up their layered skirts and waded into the shallows to draw the vessel in as it neared the pier. It was only when it came close enough for them to peer over and inside that she saw there were more people on board. Four other men were inside: two were sitting curled up with their arms around their knees while the other two lay sprawled on the bottom of the bare wooden deck like puppets whose strings had been cut. All seemed to be awake – or at least their eyes were open – but they did not appear to be aware of their surroundings.

The strange scene stretched on, with the onlookers unsure what to make of it. Finally, a woman leaned forward, extending a tentative hand towards the nearest person curled up in the boat. She was the mother of the young man: mustering the courage to reach out to her child...but before she could touch him, a rogue wave caused the boat to bump up against the pier with a slosh and a thump.

He started suddenly, jumping up while shouting incoherently, clawing at the edge of the boat for a handhold before scrabbling onto the damp earth of the pier. Ludmila and several others, startled at his sudden movement, collectively stepped back out of caution at the irregular behaviour. Not a moment later, he began moving again...but rather than rising to his feet, he was hunched over, his fingers nearly brushing the ground. She briefly made eye contact with him before he lunged forward, shoving her out of the way. Ludmila's arms flailed out as she staggered and struggled to maintain her balance until hands reached out to steady her from behind.

By the time she turned to angrily call out to the man, he had already made his way partway up the hill, scaling the slope on all fours on a mad crawl towards his home. His worried mother followed after him, though nowhere near fast enough to keep up with his frenzied pace. Ludmila's anger subsided as quickly as it had risen upon witnessing this bizarre scene, recalling the man's gaze just a moment earlier: rather than a person, his sunken, bloodshot eyes had looked at her as if she was some obstacle, like a branch in an overgrown trail to be pushed aside.

Expelling a deep breath, Ludmila tamped down on her emotions as she turned back to the ship, hoping to make sense of the strange event unfolding before her. The girl who had been signaling with the bell had dropped down to the deck of the ship and was trying to rouse the second man curled up in the boat – her brother. The two other men that lay catatonic on the deck had not stirred even after the disturbance, but the man working the rudder had vanished during the commotion. Ludmila scanned the vessel from bow to stern: there was no sign of any belongings being brought along, neither was there any recent damage that suggested that they had been attacked. The undisturbed emptiness of the ship led her to the conclusion that they had departed in a hurry, with no time to load fresh supplies or even wait for their fellow villagers.

As time wore on, the small crowd watching from the shore dispersed, carrying the uneasy atmosphere with them. Ludmila gave instructions for the two men on the deck to be carried out and tended to while a few villagers still remained, then stepped down onto the boat beside the girl and her brother. With her sister's worried urging, the man's previously empty gaze had turned somewhat lucid again and Ludmila reached out to help him to his feet.

As she and the man’s sister guided his unsteady steps off of the pier and onto the path into the village, Ludmila decided to try and find out what was going on.

“Milivoj, what happened? Where is everyone else? Where is the Baron?”

With the guardsman in his clearly shaken state, she kept her phrases as clear and simple as possible.

If he had heard her, he gave no sign of it. The soles of his boots scraped against the wooden planks laid on the path between the pier and the village proper as he shuffled forward. The man's still-bleak gaze remained downcast, even after she released his arm. A part of her wanted to shake him to get his attention but he had such a frail, unstable appearance that she thought he would fly apart mentally like the other man if she did.

Before long, they had reached the home of Milivoj and his sister. After taking her brother inside, the young girl curtseyed awkwardly to Ludmila before quietly closing the door. Left standing alone on the path, she turned around to look out over the village. The evening sun had dipped below the ridge of the valley, shrouding the hill in gloom.

Normally, people would be finishing their day’s work around this time, lingering outside to socialize and relax. Witnessing the disturbing scene that evening, however, everyone had withdrawn into their homes instead. Ludmila let out a sigh as she started walking back to the manor. Life out in the rural regions of the Kingdom revolved around the daytime hours and she would probably not be able to see anyone until the morning. Well, not that anyone seemed to be in the mood or condition to speak.

The freezing chill of the evening made the fading indigo sky seem even more crisp than usual. Turning her head upwards, Ludmila watched silently as the brightest stars made their appearance overhead. The tension that had suddenly built up over the course of less than an hour slowly seeped away from her as she took in the sight, yet the unsettling feeling deep in the pit of her stomach remained. Feeling drained in both mind and body, she walked back up the path to the manor with disquieting fears whispering from the dark corners of her mind. Slowly making her way up through the terraces of the village, she decided that it would be best to retire early for the night. Hopefully the men that had returned would be well enough the following morning to tell her of what had happened at Katze.

Birthright: Act 1, Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Before dawn, the pier was empty once again.

Ludmila sighed – something she felt was beginning to happen far too often – as she stood inside the shadowed wooden door frame of an emptied home. After a fitful night plagued by worries, she had risen from her bed an hour before sunrise to finish her preparations and tasks for the morning. In doing so, she hoped to head out early to find out more from the men that had arrived the previous evening as their families prepared for the day.

Instead, she was greeted by the conspicuous sight of the empty pier upon leaving the manor. There was no sign of the ship down the river and, after rushing down to the shore, she noted no broken ropes nor signs of damage to the moorings that would indicate that the ship had been swept away somehow.

It was only after she trudged back up to the village and looked around that she was able to piece together what had occurred: two of the returned men had stolen away some time during the night, taking their families with them. The first abandoned home she had come across was that of the man who barreled through her when the ship had bumped up against the pier. The second, in which she currently stood, belonged to the man handling the rudder that had slipped away during that same commotion. With the village as short-handed as it was, there was no watch posted at the harbour overnight and no one had noticed their departure.

Peering into the living space, Ludmila took a mental inventory of the interior. The home was stripped of bedding and clothing; the shelves and cooking area similarly bare. Clearly, the family had left with no intention of ever returning. Stepping back out into the path, she brooded over the increasingly dire situation that cast its shadow over the fief.

The river was the village’s lifeline to the interior of the duchy, so losing the vessel that was their main method of transport was a crippling blow. Over the recent generations, the borderlands of the Kingdom of Re-Estize had become a resurgent wilderness, turning Warden’s Vale into an isolated outpost of the Duchy of E-Rantel. The overland route leading north through the old roads and regrowth back to the western highway which led to the city would take heavily laden travellers nearly two weeks on foot with very limited capacity for cargo. The route also carried with it a high risk of being attacked by wild animals, wandering monsters and the occasional loose group of bandits or Demihumans. Fashioning a new vessel suited for transporting the barony’s goods would similarly be impossible with what they had on hand.

With the bounty of nature all around them the people never suffered any shortfalls of food, but they still needed to trade in the city markets for tools, parts and other necessities that were crafted elsewhere. The city in turn would be lacking in the produce and resources – timber, furs, hides and other raw goods harvested in the south – that they would exchange in turn. Though the production of their mostly undeveloped fief was tiny compared to the vast farmlands and forests managed in the interior, it still served as a small link in a chain of logistics that could be adversely affected by their missing contributions.

Not only would it cause uncertainty and hardship for others that depended on their trade; it would also create political ill-will against them for the instability that their failure to deliver would cause. Ludmila looked back outside, searching for signs that the others had become aware of what had occurred overnight and its implications.

Occasionally a villager would come up the path, carrying water drawn from further upriver, out of sight of the harbour. They were all simply focusing on their morning routines, preparing for another busy day. By the afternoon, however, it would be common knowledge and the topic of every discussion. Ludmila wondered what she should say when that happened.

“Mistress, the priest was looking for you.”

A young woman coming down the hill with an empty pair of buckets latched onto a carrying pole called out to her. Ludmila turned her head to look up in the direction of the voice. The woman's arm was stretched out to point further up the path, hand gesturing loosely.

“Did he say what it was about?” Ludmila asked.

In reply, the woman simply dropped her gesturing arm and shrugged. With the morning’s chores pressing her, she did not seem to express any interest beyond making sure Ludmila was aware that someone was looking for her. Her pace did not slow as she rounded the hill on her way to the river bank.

As Ludmila made her way back up further into the village, she shared a similar exchange with three other tenants on the same errand, but learned nothing new. This was how information travelled amongst the common folk who had no pages or couriers: tidbits being passed from person to person until it was seemingly no longer relevant. Whether it actually reached its intended – or unintended – recipient was something to be seriously considered in larger towns and cities, but in small villages it was a fairly effective way to spread word without interfering with the peoples’ daily lives.

Ludmila found the priest standing outside his home near the top of the hill. One of the elders of the village, he had a thin, weathered appearance that spoke of his service as minister to the village for multiple generations. Aside from the icon of the Six Great Gods that he wore around his neck, there was no real way to distinguish his plain-clothes appearance from any other old man in the village.

Wisps of white hair trailed loosely in the air as the old priest turned his head in Ludmila’s direction. He made no move to meet or greet her – an agent of the gods did not answer to mortals, after all. She came forward with the customary greeting, lowering her head as she curtsied.

“I hope the day finds you well, Priest Bohdan.”

Awaiting his response, she did not straighten herself. The aged priest extended a shaky hand, placing it firmly on Ludmila's lowered head.

“Blessings of The Six be upon you, Childe.”

She felt a wave of warmth as the priest’s Blessing washed over her. Proper supplication before a divine agent was answered with a gift from the gods. As far as his congregation was concerned, the spell allowed one to perform their daily tasks with slightly greater proficiency as well as tending to avert minor accidents and injuries for a short period of time. Though mostly a ritual exchange, it still held a bit of practical value for the people.

With the incidents as of late, Ludmila felt she would need any help she could get…but when she raised her head to face the priest, she only saw more trouble painted on his face.

“You sent word for me,” she said. “What’s the matter?”

Ludmila went straight to the problem at hand, but Bohdan seemed hesitant to respond.

“The men that were carried in yesterday,” he told her. “They passed away during the night.”

“What!”

The exclamation came out sounding something like a squawk. Looking around to see if her outburst had drawn any attention, Ludmila lowered her voice.

“How?”

“Of...dehydration,” the priest replied. “I could not discern any other cause.”

“Do you mean to tell me that men travelling on a river died of thirst?” Ludmila was incredulous.

“They did not go peacefully,” Bohdan replied gravely. “Their eyes were wide open the entire time, but they seemed to be staring…elsewhere. They moaned weakly through the night, thrashing at their surroundings until cuts and bruises covered their bodies and their fingers bled raw. We had to restrain the men to keep them from harming themselves further, but they still kept screaming in hoarse whispers until their throats cracked and bled and they could scream no more.”

The priest paused to swallow as he gave his report, a haunted expression on his face.

“In all my years I have not seen the like,” he said. “Just what happened to these men?”

That’s what I would like to know. Ludmila thought to herself.

What could disturb grown men to such an extent that they would die of thirst while travelling on a pristine river?

Resolving herself, Ludmila stepped into the building to see what had happened with her own eyes. She wrinkled her nose as the pungent odor of herbal tinctures and soiled cloth greeted her. The priest’s Acolyte was watching over the bodies, sharing the same grim expression as her mentor. The corpses of the two men lay sprawled on their cots, woven straps binding limbs still rigid in death. Bloodied fingers formed into grasping talons around wherever they could find purchase, leaving shallow marks and dark red smears on the surrounding furniture. One man lay on his back, face covered by a clean linen cloth. The other had somehow become tangled in his beddings and bindings, face hanging out with a ghastly expression over the edge of the covers that he lay upon.

Ludmila knelt to inspect the man. Even in death, his eyes were still wide open, his pallid skin only lending to his horrified visage. She couldn’t help but compare expressions between the corpse and its tender.

Reaching out, she pulled a wooden cup from under the cot. It had rolled along the floor, leaving a trail of clear liquid near her feet. Moistened towels were scattered about as well – the priest and his Acolyte had most likely tried to help the man take liquids, only to be met with violent resistance.

Placing the cup on a nearby counter, she turned to face the two defeated-looking caretakers.

“Could you make anything out in their delirium?”

“Nothing,” Bohdan replied.

He kept glancing back and forth between the bodies and the doorway, as did his assistant. The night’s vigil had left them plainly ill at ease, and they stayed well away from the apparent source of their anxiety. Ludmila breathed a sigh yet again. There was no sense in lingering and nothing further could be learned here. The priest and his Acolyte stood aside respectfully as she passed them on the way out, but were almost stepping into her heels in their haste to leave as well.

Most of the villagers were out and about by now, many were in or around their homes working on winter crafts, mending clothing or trying to fix odds and ends. There was less daylight in the winter months, so the majority of the activity was concentrated into the seven or eight hours of good light that reached their place in the valley.

Further afield, there were dozens foraging outside of the village. Though none dared enter the nearby forests with recent events casting a pall of uncertainty over the settlement, they were still comfortable enough to harvest the various plants that grew abundantly over the marshy valley floor. Watercress, Arrowheads, Mannagrass and various reeds and rushes carpeted the terrain, but there were never enough hands to even remotely harvest it all.

They also managed a flock of hundreds of grey geese, which dotted the vast feeding grounds, providing fowl and fresh eggs for the village on a regular basis. As well, there were a handful of men and women casting nets into the river for fish, eel, molluscs and crustaceans. With the seasonal conflict being so late this year, the winter markets would also experience the same delay and the village was using this time to increase the quantity of their exports.

Not that it could be delivered in a timely manner without their ship. The thought again made Ludmila keenly aware of the slowly-building mental pressure that had been accumulating since the previous evening. Giving her head a shake, she brought her thoughts back to the task at hand. With two dead and two missing, there was only one man left out of those who had returned.

She was well acquainted with the man; her own brothers being of a close age with him, and he was often seen together with them during their childhood. Even now, he usually served as a sentry for the manor and had a place on the regular border patrols. Since she was familiar with the man she had meant to see him first, but the events of the morning had simply swept her along powerlessly like some leaf in the current. He also had been the only one to walk away from the pier in a somewhat normal fashion, so she had hopes of getting some real information out of him.

On the way down to his home, Ludmila looked anxiously for signs of activity in his family’s home. For a tense moment, she thought that he, too, may have fled, but the thin wisp of smoke that rose from his family's home dispelled those fears.

Rapping her knuckles lightly on the thick wooden door, Ludmila announced herself.

“Milivoj, it’s me.”

It didn't take long for the door to open in response.

The tall man appeared, almost entirely filling the doorway. He still had a haggard appearance: dusty brown hair unkempt; face unshaven, tired and worn, but at least some color had returned to him. Through a space between Milivoj and the doorframe, she spotted his sister putting away breakfast. They seemed to be having a late morning, but she could hardly fault them for that after seeing what happened to the other men. For now, she was simply thankful that there was someone left to speak of what had occurred.

Milivoj seemed to sense what she had in mind, shifting uncomfortably and unable to meet her gaze. Ludmila opened with a courtesy, regardless.

“Are you well enough to speak for a while?”

After a short silence, Milivoj closed his hazel eyes and exhaled heavily. Stepping out of the doorway, he rested his back against the stony wall and slid down until he sat on the ground, nodding in acquiescence.

Milivoj’s defeated actions gave Ludmila pause. The entire situation since the previous evening had left her with an unstable feeling, like she was trying to cross thin ice; the people and world around her threatening to break apart with every step she took towards finding the answer to this mystery.

She looked for a place where she could sit, but ultimately decided to step back down onto the path to speak with him face to face. Upon turning around, she was surprised to find that Bohdan had followed her. The presence of the knowledgeable elder was welcome, however, so she paid him no mind as she started to question the waiting guard.

“What happened?”

As the words left her mouth, Ludmila felt that they were wholly inadequate. She wished she could reach out and snatch them out of the air so she could start over again, but Milivoj still flinched as if he had been struck. The big man was already sitting flat against the wall, but he seemed to sink into the stone as he deflated upon being called to recount his experience. His words came out in a hollow voice, unlike the boisterous man of mere weeks ago.

"We...lost?” He gave a short, weak laugh, but Ludmila failed to detect any humor in his words. “Everyone – everything. All is lost. We are lost.”

Birthright: Act 1, Chapter 3

Chapter 3

At the gloomy outburst, Ludmila furrowed her brow in confusion and felt a hint of distaste well up within her. Frontiersmen were a subdued and practical lot – the men and women of Warden’s Vale were not prone to bouts of melodrama like some unskilled tavern bard.

“Lost? How?” She pressed Milivoj, “You should have barely arrived.”

For years now, the Kingdom of Re-Estize and the Baharuth Empire regularly held a large skirmish around the autumn harvest season. Neither side would purposely commit to pitched battle and the outcome was similarly indecisive. The casualties inflicted could barely be called damage: so tiny they were, compared to the nation’s population of over nine million. Each year, the great houses would play their games, and their vassals would try to figure out how to deal with all the logistical shortfalls it would cause.

In line with the rather late declaration of war by the Empire, the King had raised his banners over a month previous. Since it was an expected occurrence by this point, Baron Zahradnik had already long prepared his quota of men and supplies and left that same week. Going by Milivoj's statement and the unexpected return of the men, this outcome should have occurred only a handful of days after their arrival at E-Rantel – barely enough time to finish setting up their camps and preparing for the initial skirmishes.

Ludmila couldn't accept this claim. With both sides putting minimal effort into the battle, it should have been a standoff that played out over many weeks – well into late winter, perhaps even spring. That should have been the point, after all: the longer the Empire lingered at Katze, the longer the Kingdom’s levies would be prevented from participating in the regular activities of the season. The Autumn harvest had long been completed by the time the call to arms had been sent forth, so it seemed that the Empire had chosen to both stifle the busy winter trade and delay the spring planting season.

It represented an aggressive shift in the Empire’s strategy: delaying the bustling winter markets in the region would have meant supplies would not reach the fiefs that needed them. The planting season – if postponed for long enough – would require that crops and livestock be organized in a drastically different fashion to account for lost weeks of growth, if they could be at all. To Ludmila, this sudden move to throw the Kingdom off balance indicated that the Empire was about to change the way they waged war some time in the near future, but the idea that they would face such a drastically different result in the same year was beyond her ability to imagine.

“Milivoj, answer Mistress Ludmila’s question,” Bohdan spoke gently to the man, trying to coax him to speak further.

The priest leaned forward, laying his hands on the haunted-looking man. Ludmila did not hear any spells being cast, but Milivoj seemed to visibly gather himself and started to speak again in a clear and regular tone.

What followed was the account of a nightmare. It could be only that.

Milivoj’s eyes regained their focus as he finished his recollection, looking between Ludmila and Bohdan as he ended his account. He seemed oddly calm, as if sharing his memories had distanced him from his experience somehow. Ludmila shifted uncomfortably. There were so many points where she thought she should have questioned, but it was all so fantastical and horrifying that she had refrained from doing so as the young man spoke. Even now, she was at a loss as to how to proceed.

The tale was long, and the use of divine magic to eliminate Milivoj’s fear and force lucidity upon his mind resulted in an eerie, distant account that spared them none of its gruesome details. Some of those, she could not even begin to understand...or perhaps words were simply insufficient to do so. Tens of thousands of men, falling to the ground dead as if a giant scythe had swept through them like so much grain. Colossal globes of liquid darkness that rained over the field, birthing colossal, nightmarish creatures that could only be described in loose relation to more common things. The appearance of an Undead caster who possessed the might to control those unfathomable monsters.

She couldn’t even guess at how many lives had been lost in the carnage. It was beyond the comprehension of a teenage girl living out on the edge of civilization with a scion’s education and limited experience outside the borders of their isolated fief. Beyond what any of them knew. Even those villagers who had spent decades defending the border against the myriad of Demihumans and monsters from the wilderness had never recounted anything so bizarre, horrifying and deadly.

But…Bohdan might know. The venerable priest had lived long and seen much, undergoing his training as an Acolyte in the Theocracy. A mentor and friend who had long served the barony and its people with his divine magic and generations of wisdom. Ludmila turned to see if she could lean on his knowledge and experience, but her words caught in her throat as when she saw the ghastly expression painted on his worn face.

“...spare us.”

The elderly priest was the first to break the silence that followed, with words barely audible as they passed his pale, thin lips.

“May Surshana spare us,” his voice rose as he invoked the grace of the god of death. “The army of the Kingdom, destroyed. The Empire, fighting on the side of abominable horrors and evil Undead!”

His quivering voice continued to rise and Bohdan turned to face her. The feverish gleam in his eyes was so intense that she felt herself take a step back.

“Mistress Ludmila,” he said, “we must leave.”

Ludmila’s mouth opened and closed, and she looked back and forth between the two men. Motioning for the priest to hold, she turned to Milivoj, who remained leaning on the wall of his home.

“Milivoj, please get some rest,” she touched him gently on the shoulder. “I’m sorry for asking you to remember all of that.”

Nodding in appreciation as she helped him from the wall, the young man turned to disappear back into the tiny earthen home, closing the door softly behind him. She wasn’t sure how much longer the enchantment cast upon him had left, but she suspected that she had just condemned the man to the state that they had discovered him in yesterday, despite appearances.

Stepping back onto the village path, she found the priest pacing back and forth on the narrow road, muttering to himself. Seeing her approach, he repeated his words.

“Mistress Ludmila,” Bohdan said quietly, “we must leave.”

“What do you mean by ‘leave’?” His unexplained insistence was beginning to wear at her patience. “You are the village priest. This is the seat of House Zahradnik. We can’t just simply ‘leave’ this place.”

“No!” His shout punctuated the morning air, then his voice returned to its normal volume, “No. Do you not understand, Childe? The Royal Army has been routed and broken. E-Rantel was being abandoned! The Empire, with their new unholy allies, will sweep over these lands – employing the very devastation they have wrought. When they come, those horrors will shatter our minds and bodies just like those men that returned home. The Undead show no mercy to anyone! Only death at the hands of this great evil awaits us if we stay.”

“But the Baron–”

“The Baron and his sons are unaccounted for,” he continued to press her. “This is a decision that you must make on his behalf. They would be powerless against what comes anyways: all of us would be. Everyone must leave – not just you and I – every man, woman and child must flee this place before it’s too late.”

Ludmila felt that the lingering dread that had hung over them since the previous day had, for the old priest, manifested into the same fear that came from the men in the boat. Ludmila swatted away the same feeling creeping out of the corners of her own mind as she tried to calm Bohdan.

“Perhaps it will not come to that,” she said. “It would be reasonable for the Kingdom to concede some territory in light of such a defeat, so it would not make sense for the Empire to cause such wanton devastation in their future holdings.”

Normally, when clashes happened between rulers, a decisive defeat would result in the concession of titles. The nobles managing the lands within those titles would owe their fealty to a new liege lord and continue to administer their fiefs under a set of obligations similar to the ones they had before. While she understood that recent changes had occurred within the highest levels of the Empire’s administration, it’s territories were by and large run the same way as the Kingdom’s: through a hierarchy of aristocrats and capable proxies who managed their respective territories.

Practically speaking, it meant very little to the common citizen, and for the nobles it would mostly mean that their taxes flowed to a different lord. No action would be taken against them as long as they administered well, upheld their end of the noble contract and observed the laws of the realm. In their case, E-Rantel and its surrounding duchy – being the claim which provided the casus belli for the annual confrontation – would be ceded, but life for the people would remain mostly unchanged.

Bohdan remained unconvinced, shaking his head.

“The risk is too great. Never in all my years have I even remotely heard of such a thing. This is no normal war…”

There was a short pause as the priest collected his thoughts, seemingly inspired by something. Ludmila waited patiently while scanning their surroundings: so far, no one had taken note of the discussion.

“This sort of magic that Milivoj described...it is far beyond that of even great heroes. I have heard that the Empire has a legendary magic caster – Fluder Paradyne. Only one such as he could have possibly done such a thing.”

Ludmila plied her memory, trying to recall what she knew of magic. When her family paid their infrequent visits to the duchy's capital of E-Rantel, she would associate with the other noble ladies that were in the city. The informal discourse of luncheons, afternoon viewings and evening events would cover topics ranging from frivolous to fruitful. As a young girl following her mother, she had soaked up everything like a sponge as children did. In recent years, while she still enjoyed the same topics as other young noblewomen, she was increasingly drawn to more practical subjects that would help her manage her family’s demesne.

Regardless, discussions on magic were cursory at best. They were either related to divine magic – dealing with the state of the land or the well-being of the population – or a fanciful spice added to titillating tales of adventure spun by minstrels hired for their entertainment. Even then, she was probably more knowledgeable than her peers in this area. In his twilight years, Bohdan had become capable of casting divine magic of the third tier, so she was more familiar as to its use in a fief than most of the other ladies of the regional nobility. If he himself held this legendary caster in such estimation, she could hardly refute him.

Bohdan’s continued ruminations jarred her from her thoughts.

“What…what if the Undead caster that Milivoj saw riding that aberration was Fluder Paradyne? It is said that he has lived for an unnaturally long time – I do actually recall his name being spoken of even when I was a boy studying in the Theocracy. Perhaps he has given himself over to evil magics to become an Elder Lich? But that would mean the Empire has fallen in league with the enemies of the living: Fluder Paradyne has been both mentor and advisor to generations of Emperors…”

Ludmila didn’t know what an Elder Lich was, but the rest did sound genuinely dire. The Baharuth Empire was once a part of Re-Estize, and had broken away a decade before the founding of House Zahradnik. If Fluder Paradyne had been present, manipulating the courts of the Empire ever since the schism, it could be possible that the belligerence of the Empire was the result of his influence and long in the making.

Bohdan had served as a trusted member of the Baron's council since the time of her great grandfather – a faithful servant of the gods and of the people that had come to rely upon him. There was no reason to believe he wasn’t acting with the best interests of the barony in mind.

“Then what do you propose we do?” Ludmila asked.

“If we flee west to the rest of the Kingdom,” Bohdan answered, “the horrors of the Empire will surely run us down along the way. The Kingdom will be doomed, anyways. We must go south, through the upper reaches. We can escape to the Theocracy – by the power of The Six, the Theocracy will be able to stop this abomination.”

“This plan is heedless.” Ludmila’s response was immediate. “You propose that we follow the river up its course to the southwest until we can find a place that is shallow enough to ford, after which we would need to turn southeast through the passes until we reach the Slane Theocracy. That is at least two hundred kilometres of savage wilderness between Warden’s Vale and the border of the Theocracy, then another hundred kilometres to its nearest city.”

Rather than the gently rolling fields of the pastoral heartlands that someone unfamiliar with the region might be given to imagine, the southern reaches of Re-Estize were bordered by an ancient mountain range which was populated by a plethora of inhuman tribes. The regions further to the south were a windswept plateau dominated by shrublands, rocky moors and sparse woodland, but the area nearest to their territory and much of the Kingdom's southern border was an imposing barrier range dense with primal forest. Though nowhere near the height of the towering, snow-capped Azerlisia range to the north, the southern ranges were still high enough that their heights lay bare, their rugged peaks standing in stark relief to the deep valleys cutting through them.

“Leading the entire village through that will take two weeks at the least,” Ludmila told him, “maybe a month if we encounter significant delays. Being caught and exposed to a late winter storm in the passes would surely be catastrophic. There are also the Demihuman tribes and monsters that are in the area. They might not come after Warden’s Vale very often, but they would not pass up the opportunity to attack a vulnerable caravan of refugees if it suits them. I cannot approve of this reckless course of action.”

Birthright: Act 1, Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Despite her words, Bohdan had not lost any of his momentum and the priest continued to press his case. Seeing this, Ludmila motioned for him to follow, and together they walked back up the village lane to speak inside the manor hall. Pulling off her scarf, she went to the kitchen area at the back of her family’s home to bring out two wooden cups filled with cool water. Ludmila moistened her throat before picking up where they had left off.

“You understand why I consider your plan unacceptable, yes?”

“Mistress Ludmila,” Bohdan smiled reassuringly at her worries, “I understand the root of your concerns, but I think you are underestimating the people. Perhaps you’ve been influenced by other nobles on these matters, but surely you understand that frontiersmen are not the same as the folk of the interior.”

The wise priest was right, as usual. When she was still a child, she had gauged everyone by the same measure, believing everyone was the same in regards to what they were broadly capable of. As the years went by, however, she came to understand that this was simply not true. Because the Baron only brought his family to E-Rantel once or twice a year, the difference in physical ability displayed between visits was plainly apparent. Through friendly sparring and training between them, it became clear that the gap in ability between her brothers and the other noble scions of the duchy only grew wider with every season. By the time they approached marriageable age, they were looked up to as reliable cornerstones in matters of martial prowess.

Even amongst the noblewomen, she could feel through simple interactions that she was a bit stronger, faster and more resilient than the other ladies of the ducal nobility. She wasn’t sure if it was something to be particularly proud about, but it was a fact all the same. Since she could now often keep up with her brothers in their training and participated in wilderness patrols with few issues; Ludmila suspected that she would also be able to best the young noblemen of the ducal court in combat as well.

When inevitably approached by his children as to why this was, their father said it was due to a difference in heritage. The settlers of the borderlands were often descended from Adventurers, and the original Frontier Nobles were powerful Adventurers that had claimed the lands as their own by expanding and taming the borders of Re-Estize. Through maintaining these bloodlines and honing their strength against the dangers of the vast wilderness beyond, they were always notably superior to their peers in the more peaceful regions of the Kingdom – at least when it came to martial matters. Ludmila had at least one close friend from the inland territories who could fly circles around her in other subjects.

The common people of their village were much the same, to a certain extent. In addition to being farmers, woodsmen, hunters and tradesmen, they were also Fighters and Rangers. By necessity, everyone was trained from a young age and involved in patrolling the border and defending the fief from the myriad threats that faced them. This militant culture resulted in a population that was generally stronger in combat than the citizens that lived in the interior, who focused primarily on their domestic tasks. Small Demihuman tribes could not muster a force to intercept a caravan full of frontiersmen without a good chance of being instead destroyed themselves.

They may have looked the same as every other Human, but as Bohdan had reminded her, they were not the same as those from the Kingdom’s heartlands. Despite this, Ludmila still had other doubts. Bohdan, however, pushed forward.

“Besides, what other choice have we?” He said, “We will not outrun the Empire’s forces if we flee west, and certain death lies to the north at E-Rantel. We cannot cross the river eastwards and scale the sheer cliffs on the other side to reach the main highway between E-Rantel and the Theocracy, so we can only go south.”

Ludmila bit her lip. Truthfully, there seemed to be no good options. Instead, she reached for a compromise.

“If the capitulation of the Kingdom is the objective of the Empire, then they should be moving westwards towards the Royal Capital to take advantage of their momentum and secure a quick victory. There’s a good chance that they would ignore an out-of-the-way border territory like ours. We can put together a raft and set a watch down the river closer to the city. If they dispatch forces south, the Rangers we send can sail back up the river faster than any soldiers can travel by land. If the Empire heads to the Kingdom’s heartlands, they can report back as well to give us some peace of mind. We can wait for the terms of settlement without having our spring activities interrupted.”

It was a proposal she was confident that the Baron would have approved. The frontiers of Re-Estize were sparsely populated and poorly developed; they presented next to no major military threat, especially when the levy had already been raised and there was relatively little remaining in terms of manpower that could be mobilized. Despite the loss at Katze, the vast and wealthy interior and coastal territories in the west still had upwards to four million adult men.

The Empire would have to strike quickly at the heart of the Kingdom after successfully completing the siege of E-Rantel before a response could be mustered, or face a number of challenges. The personal retinues of the great nobles and various mercenary companies would become involved as well, representing an even greater threat. Such an attack was considered an impossibility under normal circumstances: while the Empire’s Legions were a standing army of well-trained soldiers, they had nowhere near the numbers to occupy all of the territories that lay between. Even a successful siege of E-Rantel was questionable, as relief would presumably arrive before the walls could be breached.

In her mind, given the Empire’s tendency to preserve the strength of their Legions, their most reasonable course at this point was to pursue concessions after quickly scoring a series decisive victories. Once terms had been settled, the territories in question would be sorted out in a diplomatic manner. In other words, rather than pointlessly taking such a monumental risk in crossing the wilderness before the shadow of an unrealized fear, she thought that they should only evacuate the villagers when it was proven to be a threat.

Bohdan remained stubbornly unconvinced, however. His wisps of white hair waved lazily about as he shook his head vehemently.

“The legions of the damned care not for the customs of the living,” he said. “They will hunt us with an untiring, unrelenting hatred no matter how many or how few we may be. The sooner we leave, the greater our chances of avoiding a terrible fate at their hands.”

“The Legions?” Ludmila raised an eyebrow, “Though admittedly powerful, Milivoj only saw one Undead being riding on those beasts. How did we arrive at Legions?”

“Milivoj saw only one, yes,” Bohdan said. “But that doesn't mean there aren’t more – there are always more. The fact that the Imperial Legions were so far away and did not advance during the battle is already suspect. Perhaps they wished to conceal their true nature so as to not alert the population at large. A single feat of legendary might is far removed from the day to day reality of the people, but stories of being destroyed by endless waves of the Undead would definitely warn them away far in advance of their arrival.”

Ludmila took a moment to digest his words. In addition to the national catastrophe of the army being destroyed, the mounting irregularities put events beyond her scope of knowledge and experience as the Baron’s proxy – she was barely piecing things together in her mind as they went. When Lord Zahradnik left with his men less than a month ago, she had been expected as the remaining member of the House to keep the daily affairs of the fief in order and at most deal with minor issues here and there.

Not in her wildest imaginations did she expect that the regular routines of the season would come to this. Never mind navigating a safe route through the fiasco, she still struggled to even develop a clear picture of their situation.

“E-Rantel sits at a major trade hub between Baharuth, Re-Estize and the Slane Theocracy,” she noted. “News from the Empire of such a thing would have travelled far in advance by way of merchants and wayfarers…never mind that: refugees would be swarming over the borders. Nations of millions do not simply fall to the Undead overnight.”

“Ah, but that is where you are wrong, Mistress Ludmila.”

Bohdan immediately jumped onto the tail of her statement, raising a gnarled finger beside his head.

“Excuse me?” Ludmila blinked, “What are you talking about?”

She could not keep the puzzled expression off of her face. Noble children were usually taught the history of the region to one degree or another and she definitely did not recall anything like this being a part of it. Bohdan served in the role of tutor to House Zahradnik in several subjects, so her confusion was clearly evident to the priest.

“It is a tale from before the history of Re-Estize – from so long ago that I did not consider it essential for a young noble’s education in these times.”

He bowed his aged head in apology, though Ludmila also thought it was a reasonable decision. Bohdan settled into a more relaxed posture, putting his hands into his sleeves in front of him.

“During my training as an Acolyte in the Theocracy,” he told her, “before I came to be a missionary here, it was something that was taught. Keep in mind that this is from a century ago; the events and memory of the Thirteen Heroes were still very much a recent thing in the hearts and minds of the people.

Before the chaos that came with the advent of the Demon Gods, a group of faraway nations lost contact with their neighbors all at once. The investigations from the surrounding countries that were sent shortly after all reported the same dreadful findings: each kingdom, to a man, had been transformed somehow into Undead. Kingdoms much like our own, inhabited by millions, turned into a necropolis before anyone realized what had occurred. It is said that the dreaded Vampire Lord, Landfall, was also discovered there. Many of the more...ardent...adherents of Surshana amongst my peers firmly believed that the events were connected: a great ritual cast by an evil, ambitious individual to obtain immortality as one of the Undead.”

It was a tale told in tones reminiscent of better times; when Ludmila and her brothers sat in the hall of the manor listening to the old priest relate the histories of the world. A part of her took comfort in the familiar feeling, but her mind also worked to continue to stitch together what her tutor had shared with her own working knowledge.

While she had not specifically known of the event that Bohdan had just disclosed, tales surrounding the Thirteen Heroes spun by the bards and minstrels of the realm were still quite widespread and well received. She had heard the story of Landfall several times from different performers while visiting E-Rantel over the years. In one version, he was an unspeakably evil noble, whose atrocious actions against even his own people eventually led to his rise as a Vampire. In another, he was an ancient horror that lurked in the shadows of cities and villages, preying on the people indiscriminately to quench his insatiable thirst for blood.

In both tales, the Vampire Lord had brought about the ruin of entire nations through his actions, earning him the moniker ‘Landfall’. It was not until the Thirteen Heroes confronted him that he was defeated and his reign of terror was brought to an end. There was a third version of the tale that suggested that he still lurked somewhere amongst the people, continuing to prey on the young women drawn helplessly by his charms, and that history would once again repeat itself some day.

This last version was somehow the most popular amongst the women of the court. For her part, Ludmila could not understand how anyone could feel that way about a creature that considered them food. By and large, however, the tale of Landfall was still an enthralling one: valiant heroes overcoming their vile adversary. Now that it was being applied directly to their own situation, however, it went from fantastical to nightmarish.

“Do you mean to say that this Fluder Paradyne has performed such a ritual to become an…Elder Lich?” Ludmila frowned as she voiced the unfamiliar term. “And that the Empire has similarly fallen to the Undead?”

Bohdan nodded in affirmation.

“The precedent exists,” he said, “and based on Milivoj’s account, I find it not unlikely that this is what has occurred.”

This time, unlike the tales of the past, there were no legendary heroes to save them. Apparently, the only legendary figure of their time was the subject in question. The irony would have probably made her laugh helplessly if she wasn’t preoccupied with the survival of the demesne and it’s people. With a sigh, she finally relented.

“Very well,” she said. “I will organize the evacuation. Please let the people know.”

Bohdan nodded and bowed in gratitude.

“Thank you, Mistress Ludmila. You have made the right choice.”

Birthright: Act 1, Chapter 5

Chapter 5

The sound of the bell rolling up from the pier could once again be heard through the walls of the manor. Seated at her desk in the hall, Ludmila did not bother raising her head as before.

After they had parted ways, Bohdan doddered back up to his abode, calling out for his Acolyte all the while. She came running down from the shrine at the crown of the hill moments later to see what had the aged priest so excited. Taking his arm in hers, she guided him back to his home while he went on about the important work ahead of them.

When they reappeared some time later, he was adorned in the vestments of his station: a white cloth cassock stitched with the religious symbology of the Six Great Gods. Lines of cerulean and sienna coloured the folded hem of his collar and scapular, representing the gods of Water and Earth to whom his and the majority of the village’s worship was primarily devoted to. The grime on his skin had been carefully scrubbed away and even the chaotic wisps of his hair had been inexplicably tamed. He strode back down the lane with his Acolyte in tow, who had similarly put on her formal attire. She wore the humble grey robes of an Acolyte, with sienna and white along the edges of her collar: she was an adherent of Earth and Life.

By the looks of it, she still had not fully grasped what had ignited the spirit of her mentor. Their solemn procession down to the riverbank had already drawn the eyes of several villagers, however, so she simply followed his lead with a serious expression on her face.

The pair had made their way down to the pier and used the bell to call for the attention of the people. Considering that he had renewed the enchantments on Milivoj many times earlier that day, the voice might not have been magically amplified. Perhaps the Acolyte was maintaining an enchantment on him instead, but it was still a rare thing to see all the same. Priests in the service of smaller towns and villages never knew when their spells would be required to aid in an emergency, so they were usually quite sparing when it came to mana usage since the numbers of temple staff in these settlements tended to be low.

It was now over a week since then and, as Ludmila continued her work in the manor hall, her quill paused once again to hear his voice drift all the way up the hillside from the riverbank. The change that had come over her old tutor was nothing short of remarkable. Bohdan was well over a century old, having come to the barony as a young missionary in her great grandfather’s time. Merely a month previous, when the village saw the Baron off with his men, many wondered if Bohdan would survive the remainder of winter to see their lord’s return.

Now, he hardly appeared to be the man that was bent and shriveled with age, waiting out the end of his days. The fire in his voice and purpose in his actions made him emanate the aura of a bright and optimistic youth bringing the word of the gods to a world starving for their touch. Such was his fervour that the new life and energy that he projected was tangibly influencing those around him.

The villagers, drawn by the peal of the bell and the old Cleric’s message, were initially shocked by the decision but quickly shifted from their regular activities to begin preparations for the journey. In hindsight, she decided that her initial opposition to his advice would have been futile if it had come to open disagreement. The trust in the holy man who had served the village for four generations was far greater than in the teenage girl who occasionally acted as the baron’s proxy while the lord was absent. She had neither the influence nor the personal power to convince them to stay; they would have most likely ignored her decision and ransacked the village stores before fleeing with the priest.

Realizing that her wandering thoughts had caused her hands to become idle, Ludmila shook her head and refocused on the task laid out before her. The village ledger once again lay open on the desk; a small stack of paper on hand beside it. The crumpled, coarse-grained sheets had been conjured by the Acolyte around the same time the levy had departed and left under a stack of wooden blocks for days to press them flat so they could be written on properly. The ledger was usually brought out to update the village inventories as they were made use of or replenished, but the work today was far more involved and time consuming than simple deposits and withdrawals.

The village’s warehouse was filled with products meant for the winter markets in E-Rantel, but now the decision had been made to seek refuge in the Theocracy. In preparation for the migration, she had the villagers sort out their own households as well as spend the days gathering extra provisions in the fields and forests around them. Between the slow travel time upriver by the broken men of the village and the time that they had spent preparing, she estimated that the defeat at Katze had been over three weeks previous. Since travel by land would actually be faster than slowly crawling upstream without proper sailing, it seemed that the monstrosities described in the battle had not been continually deployed. If that had actually occurred, the armies of the Undead would have broken down the walls of the city and overrun the entire countryside before anyone knew what was happening.

Based on what they had brought with them for the previous year’s skirmish, the size of the Empire’s Legions meant it would probably require over two weeks to storm E-Rantel, then possibly another week to redeploy for their next advance over the countryside. With the time it would take to ready the village for their journey, she had sent four Rangers inland immediately after the decision to evacuate had been decided upon. She only dared send them to check on the farming villages in the closest baronies, instructing them to fan out and investigate the surrounding countryside nearby. As each had returned over the course of the last day, however, they all reported the same thing: the villages had been abandoned; there was no sign of Human life to be found in any of the areas that they had covered.

Ludmila decided that it was approaching the point where the siege might conclude since the Kingdom did not appear to be sending relief, so she shifted away from consolidating the barony’s resources. Her task now was to reorganize the stores and ensure that each family received adequate provisions for the weeks ahead.

Food was actually the least of her concerns, as the warehouse had been piled high with the timing of the annual conflict and the resulting delay in the winter markets. There were barrels of nuts and preserved fruits gathered from the surrounding forest. Arrowhead tubers and dried Watercress were sorted in crates waiting to be taken away. Bags of grain were in abundance as well – Manna Grass was native to the marshy valley and it’s sweetness fetched high prices outside of the barony. There were several racks of dried fish and though they couldn’t bring the hundreds of geese raised in the valley along with them on their journey, several smaller flocks had been gathered. The villagers would eat well with such an abundant surplus, far better than they usually would in the late winter and spring. At least they would have some small comfort in these troubled times.

Outside of food, however, there were still many necessities lacking – mostly goods that were due to be replaced in the winter trade. Nails, rivets, rope and blades; assorted tools and certain fabrics were all in short supply. Hopefully what was left would hold out on the journey to the Theocracy. The most valuable goods, such as furs, leatherwork and spare medicines, would be traded in the city that they arrived in for coinage. With this, they would hopefully be able to afford shelter while she petitioned for aid and found a place for her people in the foreign land.

Though it had only been a day since the decision to finally leave was made, her work was quickly progressing. Rather than becoming weary as the hours dragged on, the clear target for her efforts allowed her to focus and continue working tirelessly. The challenges it presented were enjoyable to her, despite the nature of the crisis that the village had found itself in, and the flow of quill on paper continued almost ceaselessly through the morning.

Almost. Ludmila’s hand stopped as an ugly blot of ink appeared on the page. The nib of her quill had worn down after a few hours of use, tip splitting far up the shaft of the feather and rendering it unusable. Tossing it into a basket alongside a half dozen other such broken quills, she reached for a replacement from the satchel hanging on the wall to the side of her chair. Taking her knife from her belt, she quickly cut a satisfactory nib in the new quill before lopping off the top of the feather so it wouldn’t interfere with her writing by continually brushing into her face.

The scribing of ink on parchment continued it’s relentless march.

Several minutes passed before the sound of boots coming up the lane to the manor could be heard and a shadow fell across the doorway. Ludmila had picked out several villagers to act as assistants to carry out her instructions. They traversed the village, going between the warehouse and the manor to piece together the orders she had written out for each household’s provisions. When an order was fully completed, they would carry it away to be delivered to the home it had been put together for. Over the course of the previous afternoon and the following morning, twenty-seven out of the village’s thirty households had received their portions. Each time, the team of assistants would return to pick up the sheet on her desk that detailed the next order.

The tread of boots approached her desk and a shadow fell across the periphery of her vision. Without looking up, Ludmila held out the next order with her left hand while continuing to work with her right.

“It’s time for lunch, Mistress Ludmila.”

She looked up from the desk at the sound of the unexpected voice. Bohdan’s Acolyte stood before her, holding a wooden tray with a steaming bowl and a portion of bread twisted and baked into a ring. It was a common meal for the village, which was surrounded by nature’s bounty; they had so many natural ingredients available nearby that one could always make a hearty stew to be eaten every day.

“Leave it in the kitchen please, Sophia,” Ludmila said. “I want to make sure these last few families are taken care of.”

With only three orders left to complete, she felt that this portion of her duties should be finished as soon as possible rather than break everyone’s rhythm to eat a meal when they were almost done.

“You need to take care of your health as well, Mistress,” the Acolyte protested. “You’ve been working nonstop since before the dawn.”

Sophia Dolynavec was of an age with Ludmila, and had a compassionate disposition that matched her gentle image. Her regard for the care of her fellow villagers had led to her being taken in as Bohdan’s disciple around the age of ten. The young woman’s passion for the people and dedication to her role had contributed significantly to her growth as a divine caster and a minister to the people; she was already capable of casting second-tier spells.

As she approached adulthood, she aspired to complete her training as a priestess in the Slane Theocracy before returning to Warden’s Vale, where she would continue her service. Bohdan was quite pleased that he had been blessed with such a capable successor, reassuring his often fretful disciple that someone of her calibre would be welcomed with open arms in the institutes of the Theocracy. Ludmila supposed that she would now get an early start on that education.

“The Rangers will be doing most of the work for the next few weeks,” Ludmila replied. “I will have plenty of time to relax then.”

Both of them knew that this was probably not the case. Ludmila’s industrious nature would likely have her find something to do along the journey south, but Sophia knew better than to try and harry her over it.

“At least eat it while it’s still warm,” she said. “The meal will lose flavour if it goes cold.”

With her last appeal, the Acolyte left the tray on an open space at the edge of the desk and turned away, exiting the manor and disappearing up the path.

Glancing sidelong at the steaming bowl of stew which filled the hall with its enticing aroma as she continued tabulating supplies, Ludmila finally gave in to its temptation after confirming that the figures on her latest order were accurate. She reached out and broke the ring of bread up into smaller pieces, dropping them into the stew and bringing the bowl to herself. Her father would have probably scolded her for eating in such a sloppy way, but it was better than wasting time nibbling at her meal with so many more important matters to attend to. She scooped up a thoroughly soaked piece of bread with the spoon and quickly shoved it in her mouth before any drops could spill across the desk.

“Mistress Ludmila, we’re ready for the next household…” A man entered the door, but his voice trailed off as he witnessed the young noblewoman stuff her face with a wooden spoon.

“Mmomph mmph mrh mm!”

Ludmila scowled at the villager’s wide-eyed, uncomprehending expression. Fishing up the order she had held out previously, she waggled it in his direction until he stepped forward to receive it and retreated from the hall.

They would depart by the afternoon.

Birthright: Act 1, Chapter 6

Chapter 6

The sun was beginning to cross into the west when the last of the supplies were organized and sent on their way. As the completion of her task drew closer, she thought she could feel the tension of the village rise in the air. It was equal parts excitement and uncertainty; resolve and trepidation. Though most of the adults in the village undertook patrols in the surrounding woodlands regularly, not many of those present had actually travelled beyond the borders of the barony itself.

With all her assistants having returned home to tend to their own families, Ludmila was once again left to the emptiness of the family manor. Closing the village ledger, she rose from her desk, looking to the wall near the door. Lined up neatly against it was a row of baggage lightly packed for the journey: her family’s clothing and personal effects sorted away in the spare moments of time that she had to herself. Despite her dearly held hopes, however, no sail had appeared on the river, nor did anyone else arrive over land. With the priority now to escape the Kingdom as quickly as was reasonable, there was no longer time left to wait. She placed the ledger in her pack before making one last round of the makeshift manor, but with as little personal activity as it had seen, there was not much to tidy or secure. She drew the thick curtains over the windows, heading out the door after shouldering her baggage. If her family returned after their departure, they would see their things prepared for them with a note detailing what had occurred and hopefully follow south after them.

Over the past few days, the winds brought with them laden clouds that kept the skies overcast. A light dusting of snow had sporadically fallen throughout this time, but the temperatures at the bottom of the valley were not cold enough to keep what reached the ground from melting away. Things had cleared up a bit over the morning, but winter weather in the foothills of the border ranges was unpredictable at best – Ludmila feared that the subdued grey skies were a sign of inclement weather to come as they crossed over the main pass into the Theocracy.

The way around the hillside to the southern trail was filled with villagers looking around one last time before slowly filtering away. Before sunrise, Ludmila had dispatched several Rangers to begin scouting the way up the river to make sure that they would be informed of any problems well ahead of time. An hour had passed since she gave the go-ahead for the villagers to begin leaving, after the reports came back indicating that the route appeared to be clear and safe. Before the first families had left, she instructed them to keep their pace slow so that the entire village would eventually catch up before crossing the border and they could rely on their numbers to discourage opportunistic predators and savage tribes from attacking.

Seeing the other villagers with their own loved ones facing the coming days together made her feel both lonely and envious of their company. However, time did not stand still for any one person, so all she could do was carry on and see to the task at hand. Ludmila checked after those that left, making sure their homes had been secured properly and nothing important was left behind. As the main body of villagers disappeared around the bend, she scaled the path to the shrine that lay at the crest of the hill.

Bohdan and Sophia were within the open structure hewn from local granite, kneeling in supplication. Throughout the morning, they had prayed for journey mercies; for the souls of the villagers and the future that lay ahead of them. Unwilling to infringe on the sanctity of the shrine as they conducted their rituals, Ludmila respectfully waited slightly below until they were completed. The sound of boots on the gravel of the hilltop marked the pair as they came down.

“We’re all ready to go, then?” Bohdan said in a lively voice.

The village priest was in his continued high spirits, speaking loudly into the wind. He and his disciple were already garbed for travel, heavy mantles treated for inclement weather clasped at their necks. Under the dark coverings, portions of their priestly vestments occasionally peeked out as they made their way down the hill.

“The main groups have just finished leaving,” she replied. “There are only a few stragglers lingering now.”

They paused in front of the Bohdan’s dwelling immediately below the shrine so Sophia could bring out their baggage. His Acolyte had combined their packs, insisting on carrying the village elder’s things for him. Still, the heavy load seemed to have no visible effect on her as she walked back out to join them. Looking down the hill, Ludmila guessed that the remaining villagers below must have seen them start to come down; they no longer lingered and were making their way around the hill, following after the rest. The three slowly walked down in silence – they had been labouring over their preparations for over a week, but now that the journey was upon them, there was seemingly little to say.

Ludmila’s steps came to a halt after crossing the long breakwater of piled stones that led to the head of the valley trail. Ahead, people could be seen following the rocky footpath which was slick with rivulets of water from the morning’s snowfall. They walked alone or in pairs, some guiding their animals along, working their way around the bend in the steep gorge that their path followed alongside the river.

Noticing her stop at the edge of the village, Bohdan, who was bringing up the rear, turned and called out to her over the murmuring of the current below.

“That should have been the last of them, my lady. Let’s be on our way.”

The old man kept looking past her and over the village beyond as if some previously unseen threat might suddenly appear. He seemed to have lost none of his energy after his efforts so far and was eager to be off. Whether it was from his renewed sense of purpose, the return to his homeland or the darkness that loomed to the north, she was not sure.

Ludmila followed his gaze back over the motley collection of dwellings on the hill. The overcast skies had cleared up even more, leaving a patchwork of light and shadow over the earth as the dark grey clouds swept forward into the wilderness. Like Bohdan, she ended up looking past the village as well – though for another reason entirely. She still hoped for a sail on the horizon, or the figures of men walking up the sandbar leading to the village. Her heart yearned for a sign that her family was safe; that they would return perhaps bruised and battered but ultimately everything would eventually return to normal again.

“Lady Zahradnik?”

Awaiting several lengths down the trail, Bohdan called to her again questioningly as she continued to linger. Ludmila turned back to respond to his repeated calls but faltered as the true weight of his words struck her.

Lady Zahradnik.

No one had ever addressed her by her father’s title before, and it was something she had never expected to ever hear in her life. That he had done so meant that Bohdan had given up on the Baron and her brothers…perhaps the villagers had done so as well. The realization was an unexpected blow, leaving her reeling mentally.

“I can’t go.”

The words came unbidden.

Bohdan’s mouth worked soundlessly even as she stood shocked by her own words. Her feelings, willfully suppressed for the last few days in the need to focus on her tasks, were suddenly given voice as her mind was forcefully dislodged from the flow of events.

“I haven’t given up on my family yet,” Ludmila said. “I…I should wait for them just in case they need help – you saw how the men were that made it back. If they don’t show up, I’ll head to the capital and find them.”

The village priest shuffled back down the trail to stand before her. His aged brow was set with worry over her words as he tightly gripped his staff.

“Surely you don’t mean this, my lady!” His voice was heavy with concern, “You heard Milivoj’s story. E-Rantel must be under siege by now, if it hasn’t already fallen. Going there would be suicidal! You need to survive, for the sake of your House. The Theocracy will rise to fight this evil and reclaim the fallen lands of both the Kingdom and the Empire.”

“The Theocracy has had plenty of time to take action,” she replied. “If they haven’t by now, I doubt that they ever will.”

The Slane Theocracy was the most powerful nation in the region and the seat of the Six Great Gods’ faith. Nearly all the Humans of the surrounding lands – including those of the Kingdom and the Empire – had old ties to the ancient country. However, in all this time there was no sign of their mobilization or even the deployment of scouts coming through the area. The last time a party from the Theocracy had come out of the southern trail was late last spring, on some unknown errand.

“You must keep faith, my lady,” Bohdan said.

“I will keep faith,” Ludmila told him. “In my family, and in our obligations to land and liege.”

With the momentum of the last several days broken, Ludmila reestablished herself, angry that she had been swept away powerlessly by the recent events like so much flotsam in the current. Her duties were paramount.

Seeing her change in attitude, Bohdan frowned.

“And what of your duty to your people?” He said, “You’ve set them on this course – will you not see your decision through and lead them to safety?”

In response, Ludmila eased the satchel off of her shoulder, opening it on the ground. After a moment, she rose with the weathered leather binder that was the village ledger in her slender hands.

“I believe you to be the most suited for this task, Bohdan,” she replied. “After all, the Theocracy is your home, and you would be a venerable priest returning after a century of devoted work – a champion of the faith. You’ve served the people for generations; they trust you more than anyone else.”

Ludmila pressed the ledger to Bohdan's chest, urging him to take it.

“These are the accounts prepared for the journey; I’m afraid this is the only useful thing I’ve left for our people. A displaced noble from foreign lands would be nothing more than a burden to them. Beyond these borders to the south, House Zahradnik has no rights or power, no connections or wealth. I would just be another desperate refugee with scarce little to contribute…honestly, I don’t think I could stomach that.”

She tried to steel her expression, but ended up smiling mirthlessly in the silence that followed instead. Upon seeing this, the old priest cast his gaze downwards, turning the leather binder over in his hands. The stillness grew long between them until the priest raised his head again and looked her in the eye.

“That expression…is something I have not seen in a very long time.”

Bohdan's visage grew wistful as he continued to hold her gaze.

“Believe it or not,” he said, “I was a zealous young priest, once: raised in the heart of the Theocracy far to the south.”

Ludmila thought he was about to use some allegory to dissuade her from her course at first, yet something in the old priest's tone suggested otherwise. She waited silently to hear what he had to say.

“Upon the completion of my training,” he continued, “I had many opportunities – there was a great energy in that time a century ago, as if some momentous event was upon us, you see. Recruiters would come to the colleges, vying with one another for promising Acolytes. They all presented themselves as the best choice, the right choice; those that would do the most good in the future to come. However, nothing captured my heart more than the tale of the young realms to the north: seeds of humanity that had grown from their humble beginnings, blossoming in full.

To join the brave pioneers that were expanding the frontiers of our kind: that was my calling. I wanted nothing more than to lend my services to those on the front lines of humanity, and so I walked further and further out from the fledgeling town that was E-Rantel, beyond the busy country roads and bustling farms of lands already tamed.”

Bohdan looked past her again, to Warden’s Vale and the landscape that stretched beyond.

“Eventually, I found myself in this place, at the edge of the savage wilderness. It was here that I met your great grandfather.”

The old priest’s lips turned up in a tight smile, reminiscing over memories that he seemed to still remember clearly to this day.

“He was distant, but polite – a small village on the frontier wouldn’t refuse a priest, after all – and he granted me permission to begin my ministry here. As the weeks and months passed, I grew quite enamoured of the man and I saw that his people felt the same way as well. He was an Adamantite Adventurer. A fierce commander. Prudent in his rule and even-handed in judgement, he was everything a city dweller like myself had envisioned when we thought of the brave pioneers of humanity.

But what set him above even that image was how he carried himself when not even those qualities would avail him. When great threats arose from the frontier, when bandit lords and war came to our lands, he would simply smile grimly without complaint…and uphold his duty. He would return victorious every time, without fail; until the Zahradnik Barony became known as Warden’s Vale.”

Bohdan sighed at the memory of times long past. He turned his head back to face Ludmila with a tear in his eye; perhaps in lament over a promising future lost. Whether it was for the past or the present, she could not tell.

“As generations passed, I still sometimes saw that same grim expression on his descendants when their fortunes turned and the unfairness of the world bore down upon them…and now you stand before me, the very image of those who came before. The winds of ruin and death threaten to come howling from the north, yet you smile all the same.”

He paused and sniffed; his lips twitched up briefly, but just as briefly fell again. A quaver entered his voice when he resumed speaking.

“I do not know if you will become like Lord Andrei, my lady – but I know better than to think that I can stop you.”

Bohdan’s heavy mantle parted, and he reached out to rest his gnarled hand on her head, as he had done so many times before. She did not feel any magic in the gesture as he spoke – it was simply a heartfelt prayer; a final farewell.

“May all the gods watch over you, and bless you in your journey, Ludmila Zahradnik.”

Class Highlight: Acolyte

As Civilization spreads its light over lands wrested from the wilds and tamed by the hands of its people, powerful institutions rise to serve as pillars of support for their societies. Their many agents, spread throughout the lands, will occasionally discover promising individuals who answer a call beyond that of their everyday lives and these men and women are encouraged to enter their hallowed halls. The most esteemed of orders may even receive regular applicants who petition to become candidates to walk the sacred ways.

Just as Paladin Orders induct Squires to join their ranks, the Acolyte is the path of the supplicant who seeks a life of the cloth in civilized realms. From students attending the halls of shining colleges in vast theocracies, to humble disciples aiding the local village priest, Acolytes explore what it is to be an agent of divinity – to be a representative of the gods; whether it is in service to the downtrodden, or in pitched combat against enemies of the faith. This career path may be entirely academic, buried in the practical realities of front line civilian work, or even life-threatening in the case of those who rise through service in tumultuous battlefronts. However, they are generally encouraged to experience the full breadth of what being in service to the faith entails throughout their tenure.

Through this sampling of life as a member of the clergy, Acolytes develop an understanding of their personal calling and how it fits within the complicated framework of their theology, working to become increasingly proficient in the paths that answer it. Upon ordainment, the Acolyte will have a well defined vision of their own future, and their levels are converted into the appropriate Cleric-related job classes that lead to its fulfilment.

Birthright: Act 1, Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Ludmila did not want to get up.

Huddled in the small nest of blankets that she had gathered about herself before drifting off to sleep the previous evening, she lay on the floor propped up against a satchel half-filled with winter provisions. Only her head poked out of the covers; her eyes were still closed, but an annoyed look crossed her face. The ravens gathering outside had, for some time, been rudely informing her of the coming dawn: cawing between themselves and hopping all over the thin roof of the manor hall, creating a clamour that she could not doze through. The logs in the fireplace before her had burned away during the night and the stone floor no longer radiated any warmth.

What day was it? How long was it since she had been left alone in Warden’s Vale? Her memory sharpened as wakefulness asserted itself.

After returning to the village, Ludmila had scrounged around to both prepare for the coming days and distract herself from her worries, looking for anything useful that might help with her lonely vigil. The warehouse still contained a fair number of crates and unpacked goods, left behind on account of being too heavy or unwieldy to transport without a wagon. The shelves were lined with valuable timber and extra staples, mostly. She found an old militia uniform, meant for a man much larger than herself, stuffed in a corner beside an old spear that she had also carried into the manor.

Without administrative matters to handle or outstanding issues to address, life had greyed out into a mostly uninteresting blur of daily routines. She would perform a few minor chores, then occasionally make her rounds with spear in hand. She had plenty of time to practice with the weapon or spend her free time rereading her small collection of old books, but life had in general become insufferably dreary.

Though spring had already officially begun in Re-Estize, the weather in the southern highlands had taken a turn for the worse. The air cooled sharply and, though it did not snow, she spent most of her days bundled up at her desk to stay warm and conserve her energy, looking out to the north from the manor window. Throughout her idle watchfulness, the ship never returned, nor did anyone appear on the sandy path that followed the river.

She had also become keenly aware of just how much she hated being alone. For all of her life, there had always been other people around – whether they be her family or just the vague presence of the neighboring villagers – and she never realized the lack of these things would have such a telling effect on her. It had gotten to the point where she even thought of the wildlife that came to visit the now curiously inactive Human settlement as welcome guests to help stave off her loneliness.

As the birds outside continued their play over and around the manor, Ludmila shifted to look towards the heavily curtained window on the other side of the hall and instantly regretted her action. A tendril of frigid morning air slipped into the blankets and licked at her calves. She fished around with her toes in an attempt to close the breach in her defences, but it only caused more cold air to flow in. With her precious warmth being rapidly stolen away, she gave up and jumped out from the blanket with an irritated shout.

Not two steps into making her way towards the militia outfit airing out over a chair nearby, gooseflesh was raised all over her body. The thin linen shift that she was accustomed to sleeping in offered little protection against the freezing spring morning. Usually, one of the early risers in the family would have the fire going by the time she left her bed. Sophia had come to do this while her family was away. Despite several mornings in a row experiencing this, it was difficult to break her long standing habits.

Ludmila put on the oversized militia gambeson to insulate against the cold, her fingers shaking with the chill as they quickly worked the straps of the coat. As it was tailored for a taller individual, it did not fit very well. She had to fold the sleeves to free her hands and the hem of the suit hung past her knees. Even if she could find a belt for it, the loops at its waist hung part way down her thighs. She was half frozen by the time she was done, and the cold coarse fabric seemed to enhance her misery as it brushed over her skin.

The desire for warmth drove her forward. Returning to the fireplace and taking a pair of tongs hanging from a peg on the wall nearby, she sifted through the ashes, searching the charred remains until she located a dimly glowing ember. After clearing debris away from the space under the pot hanging over the ashes, she placed it on the floor of the fireplace, then grabbed a handful of shavings from the tinderbox. After placing the shavings and several split logs over the ember, she coaxed the fire back to life. It sparked and caught on the shavings, eagerly spreading to the fuel that she had offered.

Satisfied that the new flames would not die out, she worked the iron ladle out of the pot, using it to break up the layer of ice and oil that had formed over the surface of the stew. As she was loath to go outside and draw water in the freezing weather, all that was left was to wait for breakfast. After neatly folding the blankets strewn the floor and putting them away, she sat down to bask in the warmth of the fire. Hugging her knees, her eyes unfocused as she brooded in the shadows of the manor.

It was only after she had settled down again that she realized that it was unnaturally quiet. The ravens had gone silent, leaving only the chill winds and the distant sounds of the river in the air if one strained to hear. The idea that someone might be approaching the village caused her to jump back to her feet. Making her way to the window, she drew the curtain aside cautiously to take a look around.

Her eyes were instantly drawn to the base of the hill, where a dark figure strode out of the morning mist. The spark of hope that came to life within her faded as she made out his appearance – the man was heavily armed and armoured with a full helm that prevented her from seeing his face: he was clearly not anyone that she was familiar with. He slowed his pace and raised his head to face towards her. She quickly backed away from the window, and the curtains fell as she withdrew.

In a rush to prepare, she headed to where the remainder of the militia outfit lay draped over the chair. She hopped up and down as she pulled on the long woolen pants, tightening the cord at her waist as she moved to the entrance of the house. The metal-shod boots that she had found with the uniform were far too large for her, so she used her own. After pulling them on and tying the outfit’s leather cap to her head, she stuffed the overly long legs of the pants into her boots to keep them from tripping her up. A pair of hardened leather gloves came last – they were stiff and uncomfortable, but it was better than nothing.

Ludmila was dimly aware of how ridiculous she must have looked, but didn’t spare any thought for it. She unbolted the door and pulled it open, reaching out for the spear propped up against the wall near the doorframe. It was two-and-a-half metres in length, and she needed to tilt the polearm forward to get it through the door. As she did so, the base of the spear bumped into something behind her, and the impact jarred it out of her gloved grip. The weapon fell with a noisome clatter. With an exasperated breath, she leaned forward to pick it back up again and headed out the door.

The manor was built on the broad central terrace that generations long past had cut into the hill. It was too high to simply jump down from, so she followed the long and winding village path down to reach the man standing outside the entrance of the settlement. On the way down, she noticed that a second figure had appeared and quickened her pace, not knowing how many more would come behind them. The militia armour weighed heavily over her shoulders, jostling her awkwardly as she made her way down and she felt slightly winded as she finally made it to the base of the hill to approach the strangers.

As Ludmila came closer, anxiety washed over her as she saw what she was up against as he loomed ever larger. Sheathed in jet-black plate armour, a man stood as tall as the haft of the spear that she carried. The two massive blades crossed over his shoulders could not rightly be called greatswords – they were nearly as wide and tall as she was. Their weight must have been such that when swung, her own weapon would splinter from the impact if she tried to deflect the blow. She was at a loss on how to confront him; there was probably nothing she could do to resist if he had come as an adversary. The man seemed to be sizing her up in return, but she was unable to discern his intentions through the closed visor of his helmet.

Ludmila turned her gaze from the imposing armoured figure, scanning around for the second person she had noticed on the way down. Her heart leapt into her throat when she found her, and the spear came up in her panic.

The woman had no face – or rather, the woman had an empty face.

Over the shorter, feminine figure in traveller’s garb was a smooth, pale head devoid of features: save for a pair of empty eyes and a round, lipless mouth. The woman emitted an aura of hostility that made Ludmila brace herself for an imminent attack.

To the side, she heard a man’s voice, but she couldn’t turn her attention away from the woman with the empty face. After a moment she noticed the ghostly image of a second face superimposed over the empty one: its sharp, exotic features scowling at her: expressing what the other could not. Ludmila blinked several times, yet her vision did not change. Though what appeared before her seemed alien and unfamiliar, she somehow instinctively knew that the pale, featureless face was real and the sharp human one was some other appearance. She continued to maintain her stance, spearhead leveled at the woman not three metres away from her. The woman did not make any movement; she only directed her vehement glare against her in return.

The man’s voice sounded once again to their side. Clearing his throat, he raised his voice to break their silent standoff.

“Nabe, ensure the area is secure,” he said. “Report back if you find anything.”

With a curt affirmative and a softly spoken word, she slowly rose into the air. Ludmila tracked her ascent until Nabe suddenly shot over her shoulder. By the time Ludmila pivoted around and located her again, she was flying past the village and rounding the hill.

The deep voice of the armoured man prompted Ludmila to turn her attention back to him.

“Now then,” he said. “Allow me to introduce myself once again.”

Up to this point he had his hand raised to his helmet, posing as if he could cradle his chin thoughtfully through the black metal. The man now straightened his posture, pressing gauntleted fingers to his chest.

“My name is Momon,” his words were half declaration, half bold introduction. “My companion that just flew off to inspect the surrounding area was Nabe. Together, we are the Adamantite Adventurer team Darkness. Have you perhaps heard of us?”

Ludmila mulled over his statement as he spoke. This far out on the frontier, little beyond official business of the realm ever arrived.

As far as she knew, of the Adamantite adventurers of the Kingdom of Re-Estize, there was the acclaimed Red Drop and Blue Rose – a recent entry composed solely of women. Both of these Adamantite teams were based to the northwest, far beyond the Duchy of E-Rantel. Blue Rose had made the Royal Capital their home, while Red Drop worked even further afield between the Kingdom of Re-Estize and the Argland Confederation.

She had never heard of Darkness, but she supposed that it didn’t matter. As he introduced himself, Momon used his thumb to hold out a small tag made of some dark metal which clasped a chain that hung over his armour. Though she had never seen the precious metal herself, she thought it must be proof of his identity. Adventurers lived and died by their reputations, so she couldn’t imagine one pretending to be something that they were not.

Ludmila silently shook her head in reply to his question.

“Is that so…”

Releasing the tag, he resumed speaking.

“At any rate, we’ve been sent by the administration in E-Rantel to deliver a missive to those holding titles within its borders,” Momon gestured in a somewhat exaggerated manner as he spoke; he seemed to be accustomed to retaining the attention of an audience. “The records in the capital have Baron Zahradnik registered as the lord of this holding. Is it possible for you to lead us to him?”

Ludmila had not yet found an answer to his next question herself, so silence hung in the air for a short while before she fashioned her response.

“Baron Zahradnik has not yet returned from E-Rantel,” she replied softly and swallowed after she began. “Only a handful of men came home, around three weeks ago. Dozens went with him when the King called for his banners. We…I have not seen or heard anything since.”

Momon’s posture relaxed somewhat as he received her answer, his voice softening into a more comforting tone.

“...I see. My condolences if you have lost anyone in the recent conflict. Did the Baron leave any sons to inherit after him?”

There was a rush of heat as she bristled over the stranger’s immediate conclusion over her father’s fate, but Ludmila kept her voice measured and she shook her head again.

“My brothers did not return either,” she said.

“Your brothers...?”

“Baron Zahradnik is my lord father.”

Following her reply, Momon straightened and once again brought a gauntleted hand to his chin.

“By the succession laws of Re-Estize, that would make you Baroness, would it not?”

Ludmila knew this to be the case, but the thought only stoked the bitter feelings growing in her heart. As if sensing that the conversation had taken a sour turn, Momon went straight to the point.

“In that case, the order has been issued: all landed nobles of the duchy are to present themselves at E-Rantel to pay their respects to their new sovereign, the Sorcerer King. There are several administrative tasks to perform following this, but I’ll leave those details to the officials in the capital. Please prepare for the journey: we should depart by the afternoon.”

Sorcerer King? Not the Emperor?

The unfamiliar title raised several questions in Ludmila’s mind, but the Adventurer seemed to have nothing further to say. Having received the order, Ludmila lifted her spear and turned back towards the settlement; an intangible sense of duty nudging at her to comply. However, as she stepped forward to ascend the hill back to her home, Momon spoke once again.

“By the way, Baroness Zahradnik,” his voice sounded clearly from behind her, “you seem to have taken issue with my companion. Is there something I should know?”

The unexpected question froze Ludmila in her tracks. She wondered how she should respond. Did he know? Was it a secret? Momon spoke of her as a companion…perhaps they were lovers. Recalling the woman’s unsettling visage, she shook that thought quickly from her mind. Maybe this ‘Nabe’ was deceiving him? It was impossible for Ludmila to tell from their brief encounter.

Making up her mind, she drew a deep breath and released it. She turned back around to face the man in black armour.

“Your companion – Nabe. She was dressed in traveler’s garb, but her head…it was as pale and smooth as a goose’s egg. She had no hair, no nose: only a pair of empty eyes and a round, lipless mouth.”

Ludmila watched Momon carefully as she spoke, but she could sense no reaction to her description.

In the stillness that followed, Ludmila thought she could feel Momon’s gaze through the visor of his helm. Leather creaked as her hands tightened their grip on her spear with his silence stretching on. The Adamantite Adventurer’s massive figure loomed over her like some dark spectre; it was as if she was being judged, and her execution by one of the ludicrously huge blades on Momon’s back was imminent.

Then, all at once, the feeling subsided.

“Is that so…” Momon’s voice trailed off quietly as he turned away from her, looking up towards the sombre skies.

Birthright: Act 1, Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Having returned to the manor to prepare for the journey to E-Rantel, Ludmila took an inventory of her surroundings. The activity of the past few days had cleared away most of the loose odds and ends in her family’s home as she neatly organized what little that remained in her boredom. The stew lazily simmering over the cooking fire filled the hall with its appetizing aroma, but now there was no time to sit down to savour a meal.

She looked over the row of baggage lined against the wall which had been prepared for the flight to the Theocracy. Though they had been packed for an exodus, the contents were in truth not much different than what they would have brought with them for their trip to E-Rantel for the winter markets. They all contained an adult’s share of food and sundries, as well as a few sets of clothing and a handful of personal articles. Looking down at their contents, divided up over the floor, she decided to take some spare changes of clothing for her father and brothers just in case she found them in the city. She quickly consolidated everything into two larger packs that she could carry, leaving the excess supplies meant for weeks of travel. Throwing one over her shoulder and carrying the other in her arms, Ludmila waddled back out the door.

As she carefully picked her way back down through the trail to the bottom of the hill, her mind turned to the other cargo that would usually be brought with them on a trip to the city. Taxes were delivered as a lump sum during her family’s winter visit; the village warehouse was still one-thirds full with the year’s production, out of which the majority of their taxes could be drawn out of the proceeds from sales to the wholesalers in the city. Unfortunately, the bulky remainder of the village’s goods was something that required the efforts of many to bring down to the pier for delivery. Ludmila certainly could not carry it all down on her own.

She wondered if she could convince Momon to help. His language suggested he wanted to be on his way as soon as possible, so his assistance as a powerful Adventurer would surely speed things along. Upon arriving back at the entrance of the settlement, she found that Nabe had returned from her flight.

The female adventurer still had her two appearances; the Human face had an impatient expression on it. The pair looked towards her as she approached, eyeing the baggage that she had overburdened herself with. She carefully laid her things down on the driest patch of gravel she could find, and Momon spoke.

“The journey should not be a long one…but just how much did you plan on bringing with you?”

Ludmila bit her lip, trying to devise some sort of acceptable reasoning that she could enlist his help with. Momon, it would seem, had read the situation before she could even broach the subject.

“My personal belongings are only one of these bags,” she explained. “The rest are products from the barony and some extra things just in case. During the winter, we sell them in the city; the proceeds go towards paying our taxes and purchasing supplies that cannot be acquired here. There is not as much this year because of what happened, but it will all go to waste if it is not delivered…”

Her voice trailed off uncomfortably. She had been piecing her case together in her head as she made her way down the hill, but his sudden prompting had caused most of it to spill out in what felt like an unconvincing babble. Nabe’s eyebrows drew together and the impatient expression transformed into an inconvenienced one.

Subjected to her glower, Ludmila quickly picked up where she had trailed off.

“Again, there isn’t much!” She continued hurriedly and gestured towards the river, “I’m not sure what you’ve arrived in, but even a smaller ship should be able to carry it all.”

The two adventurers exchanged looks before turning their heads back to stare at her blankly. It was only when Ludmila turned her head towards the shore that she realized what the problem was. Her arm was extended towards the jetty of piled stone that extended a short distance into the river. The makeshift harbour it created was where travellers would moor their boats or bring them ashore if they were small enough…but it appeared that her visitors had not used one in the first place. The morning’s mist had been obscuring the pier, so she had mistakenly assumed that they had come by way of the river.

After seeing this, she looked over to the Adventurers again.

“Don’t tell me...you travelled all the way here on foot?”

This complicated matters greatly. The bridge that the old road ran over had broken down in decades past, and since travel over water was so much easier, the routes that led to the farmlands of the interior were not maintained as they had been an unnecessary expense – not that they could afford to, anyways. Delivering the fief’s goods, and thus it’s taxes, went from a simple task to an impossible one upon this realization. Arms hanging despondently at her sides, she imagined the three of them limping all the way to E-Rantel with what little they could carry; her body already felt like it wanted to scream out in protest at the thought.

Her mind made invariably futile efforts at solutions as she stood at a loss. Momon stepped forward, effortlessly picking up both of her bags from the ground and tucking them under one arm.

“Your worries are unfounded,” His confident words caused her to look up at him in confusion. “Take me to the rest of your cargo.”

In her continued bewilderment, Ludmila led Momon back up the hill to the warehouse. Along the way, she kept looking back at him, growing ever more embarrassed by her situation. The Adamantite-class Adventurer’s appearance stood in stark contrast to the humble construction of the village. If it was enchanted, his armour alone was probably worth more than the entire settlement; she cringed internally every time the squishing sound of his footfalls on the muddy path could be heard over the wind. She had a great deal of pride in her home, but at the same time an Adventurer of Momon’s standing cast a long shadow over their surroundings.

When they reached the door, Ludmila produced a set of keys and turned the old, tarnished lock that held the crossbar in place. The building was sealed tight to prevent vermin and moisture from entering so, when she pulled open the warehouse door, the odor of preserved meats, dried fruit and aromatic timber wafted over them. Ludmila scraped the mud off of her boots before entering, looking around to ensure everything was where she remembered it was. Momon stepped in after her and set down the bags he had carried back up the hill. He scanned the interior, looking over the shelves, crates and barrels.

“These over here, then?” Momon pointed to the crates stacked up on the floor.

“Everything in the building, actually,” Ludmila replied sheepishly. “Save for the items in this corner here.”

She motioned towards the corner of the warehouse near the door. There was a rack of venison jerky and a barrel of dried fruit, along with a small number of parts and supplies needed to maintain the buildings of the village. A few nets hung on the front wall that could be cast into the river for fish. Though the warehouse was nowhere as full as it should have been, she felt keenly aware of just how much it was to transport without a ship.

If Momon had any opinions on the matter, however, he did not express them. The Adventurer simply stood in place, arms crossed as he examined the contents of the warehouse arrayed before him. The awkward silence continued for several minutes, at which point Ludmila felt compelled to apologize for the hassle and for treating him like some sort of common labourer. He had been commissioned to deliver important orders to the lords of the realm, not to act as some sort of cargo hauler.

As she was about to give voice to her thoughts, something at the edge of her vision caught her attention. In an empty space near the back wall of the warehouse, a hole silently opened in the air.

“Momon!” She shouted out in startled warning.

Momon held up his armoured gauntlet, as if to stave away her alarm.

“I’ve arranged transport for your goods,” he said. “This corridor leads to a warehouse, where they will be securely stored until you are available to manage them on the other end.”

With his brief explanation out of the way, he began moving through the building, methodically making his way down the aisle and casually tossing everything into the hole in the air. Any doubts she had about the man being able to wield the giant blades at his back vanished as he effortlessly snatched crates and barrels with a single hand – grown men would usually work in pairs to move them – even great trunks of timber were tossed over his shoulder with a flick of his wrist, straight into the hole in the air. He never even turned to see if his aim was true as he quickly cleared out the shelves. She thought she heard children’s voices coming out of the hole, crying out in panicked complaint as the stream of cargo flew through the air and disappeared.

Ludmila shut her eyes tightly, pinching the bridge of her nose. It was barely midday, yet the events of the morning must have been wearing her thin. Before she realized it the warehouse had been emptied of everything, save for the corner she had indicated earlier. Seeing this, Momon turned back towards her and stepped forward. The thought of being unceremoniously flung over his shoulder into the hole after the rest of her goods filled her mind, and she involuntarily stepped backwards.

“Was there anything else you wished to send?” Momon asked as he came to a stop in front of her.

Ludmila shook her head and braced herself for an undignified flight. Instead, Momon walked out of the door, addressing her as she left.

“In that case,” he said, “we should get going. Join us when you are ready to leave.”

The hole in the air closed as soundlessly as it had opened, leaving Ludmila standing alone in the emptied warehouse. Caught off balance with the sudden acceleration of her schedule, she stumbled out of the building in her hurry to not delay the Adventurers any further, quickly making her way back home.

Back in the manor, she fished out the set of clothing she had prepared to wear for her eventual trip to E-Rantel. She had expected to depart when the spring weather had finally settled down, so she spent a few futile minutes trying to straighten creases in the fabric and brush away the lint. They were plain and simple garments that she thought suitable for travel on the dusty roads of the countryside: a short sleeved kirtle made of layered, blue-grey linen worn over a white smock and tan woolen hose. A heavy mantle treated for inclement weather covered her body while her hair was tied up and pinned in place under a grey scarf which protected her head and shoulders from the elements. She took one last pass over her outfit before deciding that it would have to do and pulled her boots back on, walking out of the manor door and securing the door behind her.

Momon had long since rejoined Nabe at the bottom of the path. He had one of Ludmila’s bags slung over his shoulder, while the other lay on the gravel where she had placed it earlier. She walked over and picked it up: it was the lighter of the two, containing several of her changes of clothing and other necessities for the stay in the city. After testing its weight over her shoulder one last time, she moved to join the two Adventurers waiting beyond the threshold of the settlement.

As she made her way towards them, a wave of trepidation swept over her. She turned once more to look back over the village amidst the anxiety that roiled within her. Behind her, she heard Nabe sigh in exasperation at the additional delay.

“Is something the matter?” Momon called out upon seeing her falter.

“That’s…it’s just that…”

Ludmila struggled to express what she was feeling. She took a deep breath and tried again, turning back to face the two Adventurers.

“Ever since it was settled,” she said, “this place has always had people defending it. This village; these lands are the lands of House Zahradnik. My lands. My responsibility. It is my duty to protect its people and guard its borders. Yet even as this is my duty, I leave it empty and undefended.”

She swept gaze over the valley. Since the arrival of the two Adventurers, the day had lifted away most of the morning’s mist. Her eyes traced over the empty buildings of the village on the hill and the empty harbour below. Beyond the marshy floodplain that ran along the river, long rows of empty terraced fields scaled the lower slopes of the valley. As the seasons passed, there would be no one to work them and the fief would fall to ruin soon after. The last territory of the southern frontier, lost at the end of generations of decline.

The sight of it all opened a crack in Ludmila’s stoic composure, and the frustrated helplessness that was building up inside her since news of the doom at Katze had reached the village began to leak out.

“I need to fix this,” she spoke quietly to the pair of Adventurers awaiting her, “but where do I even start? My people are gone; I don’t even know if my family is alive or not. I’m not a powerful Adventurer like my ancestors, nor do I have wealth and connections like the nobles of the interior. How can I even call myself a noble as my lands lay destitute and crumbling to ruin? Even my new liege will lose his confidence upon seeing such a hopeless failure of a vassal and cast me away in disgust!”

Ludmila’s resistance gave in to self-pity and frustration. Her voice broke, and tears came unbidden. Amidst restrained sobs, she hid her face behind sleeves turning bitter with moisture. From a corner of her mind a fragment of her pride protested, demanding that she maintain her dignity, but it was drowned out and washed away by the flood of fear and uncertainty that had steadily built up over the days and weeks.

It took several minutes before she could collect herself but, when she finally stifled her tears, it felt like something had changed. Neither Adventurer had interrupted her, but their tangible sense of aloofness had seemingly vanished. When she looked up, they still remained standing where they had been, with the pair facing her. She expected her embarrassing display to have drawn even more scorn from Nabe, but her Human face no longer held its sharp expression and had become as unreadable as the one beneath it. Momon’s posture had visibly changed. Arms hanging at his sides, the air of brash confidence no longer emanated from him – even his grand crimson cloak seemed to hang limply in the wind.

Surely they were aghast with disappointment – they were just polite enough not to say anything about her pitiful outburst. These Adamantite Adventurers had come to the former frontier of Re-Estize in search of the brave nobles that stood as a shield between humanity’s intrepid pioneers and the savage wilds beyond. Instead they found a girl, an adult who might more rightfully be called a child, wallowing in the empty shell of a run-down village. Her immature display had probably worn away what little had remained of their expectations. Coloured with shame, she looked to the ground, unable to face them.

The crunch of metal on gravel barely registered in her mind. The dark sabatons of Momon appeared in her downcast gaze as the Adventurer came back to stand before her. She wondered whether he had come to chastise her for her unseemly behaviour or just simply drag her away. Instead, he spoke.

“You may not believe me when I say this,” Momon said gently, “but we can empathize with your feelings. Rest assured, Baroness Zahradnik: this realm belongs to the Sorcerer King, now. He is not so petty as to callously forsake his servants for their flaws and failures.”

Had he not been standing in front of her, Ludmila would not have believed it was the same man that she had been speaking with earlier that morning. The bravado and sense of showmanship had all but disappeared, replaced by a quiet sincerity that more than anything before made her want to trust in his words. She lifted her head to look up at him, and the towering figure leaned forward.

“Let us be on our way, my lady,” Momon extended a gauntleted hand, “and perhaps you can tell us what happened here while we journey."

Stepping forward across the threshold of the village, Ludmila placed her hand in his.

Birthright: Act 1, Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Their path led them north, following the river, using an old raised trail that was little more than a sandbar accompanying the river as it bent northwards. Ludmila had released Momon’s hand shortly after regaining most of her composure, feeling that it would probably interfere with his work as her escort. Besides, it would take over a week to reach E-Rantel using the land routes and the idea that she would be daintily led around by the hand for the entire way felt awkward, to say the least. Instead, she fell in line a few metres behind him, their steps retracing the trail in the wet sand that he had left on his approach to the village. Nabe had flown off somewhere again as soon as they had departed, and there was no sign of her in the skies as they made their way along the riverbank.

Although Momon previously expressed his curiosity over just how she had been discovered in her sorry state, the pair silently continued on with the sounds of life in the marsh and the river current as their only accompaniment. She wasn’t sure if he was being considerate of her recent episode or if he simply wanted her to keep up with his rapid pace and discuss things after they made camp, but she appreciated the opportunity to sort herself out in the meanwhile.

The sun, heavily obscured by overcast skies, had already dipped below the western ridge of the valley by the time they approached the northern end. Here, the river cut ever deeper until the valley had become a deep gorge which could no longer be followed along its shores. The trail turned uphill at this point, following a large stream that fed into the river over a series of cascades. Ludmila turned to look over her home from the crest of the falls. A gloomy shadow had fallen across the valley as light waned and dark clouds rolled in overhead. The end of winter would often be accompanied by its final gasps – bouts of snowfall that made access to the highland valley nearly impossible over the hills until warmer weather finally set in.

With a sigh, she hoped that she could secure a way back by way of the river when she returned from the capital. She prayed that Bohdan, too, would be able to cross the high passes into the Theocracy safely with the villagers: they should have come close to that point in their journey already, if they had not already entered it.

When she turned back to the trail leading into the narrow gully, Momon stood a short distance away, patiently observing their surroundings.

“I apologize for having you wait on me,” Ludmila said as she approached him.

Rather than continuing on their way, Momon turned to stand and face her. Ludmila slowed in confusion before stopping in front of him.

“The top of the trail is several hundred metres above us,” he answered the unspoken question forming on her face. “If you don't mind, I would like to save us some time.”

“I do not mind,” Ludmila’s confusion only increased after he spoke, “but what do you mean?”

Momon fixed the satchel that he was carrying for her securely over one shoulder.

“...well, it would be faster to demonstrate,” he said. “Please hold your bag in front of you.”

Unslinging her own satchel off of her shoulder, she held it in front of her using both arms.

“Like thi–eyh?!”

Ludmila had no time to react as she was swept off her feet, finding herself suddenly cradled in Momon’s arms. Before she could utter anything further in her surprise, he launched himself from the trail and exploded through the tangle of branches overhead. Her breath caught in her throat and her mind whirled as it tried to make sense out of what was going on. The scenery blurred as they made their rapid ascent, briefly coming into focus whenever he alighted on the ground – only to become a blur again as he made another leap half a heartbeat later, throwing her senses into chaos. Not a minute passed before she found herself being gently set back down onto her feet, far above where they had started.

She wavered unsteadily for a moment before her legs gave out and she fell onto her back, staring dizzily at the sky. It took her several seconds to remember how to breathe.

“Umu,” Momon let out a satisfied sound.

Is that even a word? She wondered as the Adamantite Adventurer stepped away from where she lay.

Ludmila vaguely heard a woman’s voice in the direction that Momon had walked off in. Turning her head to look through the dead grass, she saw Nabe conversing with Momon and realized this was the first time she had actually heard her converse. With her heart still trying to explode out of her ears, however, she couldn’t make out what they were saying.

Some distance beyond where they stood, there were a pair of fine mounts. They must have left them here to descend into the gully, but it seemed like a terribly risky decision to leave horses in the wilderness like this. Her baggage was already strapped onto them by the time she found her feet again and wobbled over. Taking in the sight of the mount nearest to her, something seemed decidedly odd. Beyond the appearance of a beautiful stallion, the jet-black warhorse did not seem to react to her presence. Or breathe. As she edged closer to inspect the strange beast, she couldn’t feel any body heat, either.

“These are golem horses,” Momon said, “summoned mounts, just in case you were wondering.”

Momon stepped in behind her while Nabe lifted herself onto the horse before her in a single graceful motion.

“You’ll ride with Nabe, Baroness. We’ll be able to make good time from here.”

Momon helped Ludmila up into her seat behind Nabe, who seemed to pay no attention to them. After ensuring his charge was securely in place and comfortable, he strode over to his own horse. The two Adventurers urged their mounts up the remainder of the trail towards the forest and Ludmila readjusted her disheveled scarf and mantle as they assumed a brisk trot until the trail joined the old road where it stopped at the broken bridge. Here, the trot accelerated into a gallop, and together the golem horses sped through the undergrowth.

With Nabe so close, Ludmila couldn't help but gawk at the sight in front of her. The long, lustrous ponytail moved slightly as they rode, yet beneath that, she saw that the back of her head was as bald and featureless as her face: she didn’t even seem to have ears. Just as Ludmila was about to reach out to try to lightly touch what she saw, Momon cleared his throat to the side.

She quickly withdrew her hand. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea.

“I take it from what you said earlier,” Momon said, “things are not as they once were in Re-Estize?”

The dark warrior had brought his mount alongside Nabe's, close enough that his voice could be heard clearly through the headwind. Ludmila shook her head in response to his query.

“I cannot speak for the other territories,” she said, “but our fief has always been small. It has never been empty like this, however.”

Despite their rapid progress along the forest trail, it was not difficult to converse. The strange horse golems moved with a smooth, unnatural gait – more stable than any wagon or carriage in her limited experience.

“Then the cause must be…”

“Katze, yes,” she said.

She did not cherish the memory, but felt obliged to share her story with the man who had shown her so much patience.

“My lord father departed with his levy over a month ago,” she said, settling more comfortably onto the saddle, “after the King called for his banners to face the Empire for the annual skirmish. Usually, after a few weeks on the field, our men would return without incident.”

Momon remained silent as she related her account and even Nabe appeared to be paying attention, turning her head slightly.

“Any noble familiar with the workings of their own demesne had by now figured out that this meant that the Empire simply wanted to harass us without losing too many of their own forces,” Ludmila continued. “Their objective in previous years was to tie up our labour and interfere with the activities surrounding the autumn harvest season.”

“You knew this,” Momon interjected, “yet you played into their scheme?”

“It is not a matter of being played: an army at your border cannot be ignored,” Ludmila shrugged. “If their goal was to hamper our seasonal activities…then without opposition, they could move on to raze our fields or worse – these standoffs do come after a formal declaration of war, after all. Even the strongest retinues of Re-Estize cannot hope to match the might of the Imperial Legions, so our best course of action was to pool our forces into an army just large enough to threaten them with unacceptable losses should they be ignored. E-Rantel stands over the lowlands that mark the easiest route into the Kingdom, so the stage for the confrontation would naturally be in the nearby Katze Plains.”

Now that their discussion revolved around matters familiar to her, Ludmila spoke more fluently, mechanically drawing from her personal knowledge, education and experience.

“What of raids, then?” Momon asked, “With all your forces concentrated in one area, wouldn’t it be a simple matter to send detached forces to attack your undefended lands rather than face off against a mass of levied troops?”

Ludmila frowned. At this point, it felt very much like she was being tested. Reminding herself that she was speaking not to another noble, but a strong and free-willed Adventurer, she responded in a carefully modulated tone.

“Why, it would result in chaos,” she replied. “No one wants that.”

She paused for a moment to find words to describe the scenario to him.

“The Empire could certainly do what you say, but it would have escalated the conflict and pushed it in an undesirable direction. The Kingdom would respond in kind – there would be roving bands of soldiers everywhere. The Empire’s Legions are primarily composed of heavy cavalry supporting the main body of heavy infantry, all at least trained to a moderate degree with experienced officers set over them. The downside to this is the cost of maintaining an outstanding professional military – it is such that each Legion is relatively small.”

This was how her father had related the disposition of troops every year, at least. It had been a question from several years ago, asking why the Empire did not do exactly as Momon suggested.

“The levy mustered for this annual skirmish is composed of mostly unseasoned tenants and scutage in the form of mercenary companies,” Ludmila continued her explanation, “depending on the resources of each individual lord. If the skirmish escalated into a full conflict, the levy would expand to a far greater size and noble retinues would be called into war. In fact, since the elite of the Kingdom’s retinues are heavily invested in light cavalry, the Empire is actually at a disadvantage trying to both contain the levy and outmaneuver the retinues if they were deployed. The war would spiral out of control: trade would slow to a crawl, other parties would be drawn into the conflict and both sides would receive a senseless amount of damage to their lands.

Ultimately, however, no raid by the Empire can get past E-Rantel anyways. Any sortie into our territory by an army past that point would be intercepted by a response that has a much shorter distance to travel – castles and other fortified positions exist for this very reason. It would amount to a foolish move, and no one that rises to a position of leadership would be such a fool for very long and expect to retain their position. The goal of territorial conflict is to force concessions, not pointlessly devastate the very lands that one is trying to take.”

Ludmila paused to take a flask of water from her bag strapped to the side of the horse. As she took a sip to clear her dry throat, Momon asked an unexpected question.

“Are you really a teenage girl?”

A fit of coughing gripped her, and she turned her head away from Nabe’s back while nearly dropping her flask. She would have been pondering over whether to be offended or not, had she not been fighting for breath.

“What do you mean by this?” She finally managed politely through teary eyes.

“Hmm...how should I say this,” Momon paused in consideration. “Most young women around your age seem to be interested in...other things. They certainly haven’t spoken of state and military affairs as you do.”

Nabe sniffed dismissively at his words and Ludmila pondered them, absently looking out at the dense undergrowth of the forest while she wiped her face with a handkerchief.

“If circumstances were different and a famous person I was familiar with came and spoke with me, I might have acted in a different manner…” Ludmila's voice trailed off as she recalled the previous year's visit to the duchy capital. “Commoner girls lead much simpler lives and would certainly have the freedom to act in a more frivolous way. Nobles, regardless of gender, should at least have the basic knowledge required to administer their own realm. After all, no one wants to see a legacy generations in the making squandered by an indulgent wastrel of an heir, and a lady that cannot assist in the management of her husband’s fief is at a disadvantage when measured against one who can.”

Ludmila wondered why she was made to answer these strange questions – it was as if the Adventurer had a ridiculously fantastical image of the aristocracy, akin to that of the tales spun by Bards in cheap taverns deriding fantastically foolish nobles. While not all noble families had the more militant mindset of a frontier house like her own, achieving a position of power and maintaining it was a monumental task filled with duties that took up most of the daily lives of a noble and their vassals. Gross mismanagement could result in their liege citing violations of duty as just cause to strip them of their titles and grant them to another...or keep them for himself. No noble house wished for generations of their work to be seized in such a manner. Even if one’s liege was oblivious to what was going on, the ruin wrought by negligence would still find them sooner or later.

Momon continued his questions, however, seemingly unconvinced.

“Then what of the Royal Court?” He asked.

“The Royal Court?”

“Yes,” he nodded. “I’ve heard it said that, in the time leading up to the events at Katze, the Great Houses of Re-Estize treated the affair as a trivial event. It’s also claimed that they were more concerned with matters of prestige and used the prolonged debate over the conflict as a means of maneuvering for their own internal power struggles. With the Imperial Army threatening the Kingdom’s borders, it hardly seems like the time and place for such behaviour.”

Ludmila bristled at the words trivial event, but she held her tongue against the provocation. Certainly, the whole affair had been catastrophic for House Zahradnik, but beyond that…

“It should be as you have heard,” she said.

“Do you mean to say that this behaviour should be pardoned?” The Adventurer’s tone held a hint of incredulity.

The young noblewoman pursed her lips as she thought of a way to express what she understood.

“Any noble that reviews their accounts should have been aware of the continual shortfalls produced by the hampering of the autumn season – even if they were not aware of the specific details, they would definitely feel their purses shrinking. However, there was nothing the King’s vassals could do directly that would change the slowly unveiling outcome of the Empire’s strategy. As wealthy or as powerful as any one of the Great Houses may be, they are individually not powerful enough to confront the Empire on their own. Lashing out impulsively at the Empire alone as a single lord in some delusion of grandeur would only result in their complete annihilation by the Imperial Legions, weakening the combined military strength of Re-Estize.

The situation was untenable, but in the end it was only the leadership of the King that could rally the nobles and put an end to the predations of the Empire. A minor house like my own is not privy to whether the full might of the Kingdom was enough to put an end to the Empire’s schemes, but ultimate authority lies with the throne. It is the King’s decision to make, and the Great Houses are his vassals to lead in decisive action. It should be noted that despite all of their jockeying for prestige, the Great Houses mobilized when the decision was made. This is not something that can be done at the drop of a hat – it takes upwards to a year for a large territory to fully prepare and mobilize a levy, meaning that they had already committed to the Kingdom’s defence preemptively and were simply awaiting the resolution for war.

If the King will not lead, his nobles will not follow. Without clear leadership, it is only natural that the aristocracy continues to uphold their end of the noble contract and ensure that the interests of their respective fiefs are put forward – whether they be presented directly to the Royal Court or through diplomacy with other nobles and influential parties. The King’s vassals will simply continue to carry out their regular duties until directed otherwise.”

Momon moved his gauntleted hand below his helmet again; he couldn’t actually stroke his chin in contemplation through the plate armour, but Ludmila supposed it served the purpose of showing that he was deep in thought.

“So even knowing the results in the end,” he said, “you still hold to your reasoning.”

Ludmila narrowed her eyes. She had heard this juvenile rationale before from the more unreasonable members of her social circle.

“‘Knowing the results’ is a whimsical fancy when judging past decisions,” she replied testily. “There is only what one knows at the time that decisions are made.”

She paused for a moment to correct her tone, not wanting to pointlessly antagonize her escort.

“If the testimony I received was to be believed, then there was nothing Re-Estize could have done against this catastrophe. The losses go far beyond any sort of reasonable expectations based on past conflicts. In previous years, my lord father would take little more than a few dozen men with him, and return with the same number. It has always been an affair full of symbolic pageantry rather than pitched battle: a show of power and wealth – not only between the Kingdom and the Empire, but between the noble houses as well. If someone had claimed that nearly everyone would be lost, they would most likely be dismissed out of hand as delusional…or considered a coward.”

Birthright: Act 1, Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Following her statement, the trio rode on in silence. Was Momon taking the time to review their exchange, or had he become disinterested in the discussion? Being perpetually encased in that black armour didn’t help with any attempted reading of him. She peered into the overgrown tangle of the forest and wondered how he could ride at such a blistering pace through the neglected road – marred by all manner of hazards – with his visor down.

The forest thinned out, and intermittent meadows filled with shrubs and tall grass appeared along the road. The sky remained overcast in the hour or so it had taken for the golem horses to make their way through the woods. The road showed little sign of improvement: the unpaved clay was a patchwork of grass and exposed rocks, with puddles of mud filling the dips and trenches over its eroded course. Ludmila knew to expect this deterioration at the fringes of the inner territories, but directly witnessing the sheer amount of wildland well inside the duchy’s borders was still astonishing.

Not a half hour later, Momon broke the silence between them, guiding his mount closer once again to speak to her. To Ludmila’s relief, he appeared to harbour no ill will over their previous discussion.

“When we received this request,” he said, “we were given several maps to help us navigate the countryside. Beyond the immediate area around E-Rantel, however, the map for the regions south of the western highway was highly inaccurate.”

Reaching into a saddlebag, he produced a roll of crisp parchment and offered it to her. Ludmila received the map and unfurled it, using Nabe’s back as a windbreak while Momon continued to speak.

“We would have dismissed it as a fabrication had we not personally seen the remains of many of the features it had marked down. Finding your village after crisscrossing so much of the area was quite a surprise, considering all of the abandoned territories we encountered beforehand.”

Indeed, the map was old. As Ludmila held it in front of her and examined the details, she recognized it as a land survey that the Kingdom used for administrative and tax purposes. There was a similar map in her home, and this appeared to be the original: unaltered with the passing of many generations.

“This is...a very old map,” she said. “How did you come by it?”

“The mayor of E-Rantel fled the city with his administrative staff – along with many of the local nobles,” Momon replied. “Before they left, they took with them or destroyed any documents that might have been used against Re-Estize in the future. This map is the best that the new administration could find in the aftermath: it was stored in the corner of an old archive, which I suppose is how it was missed. Is anything on the map familiar to you? I noticed that the Zahradnik Barony is marked on it.”

Using Warden’s Vale as a point of reference, she traced the road north, attempting to discern their location. The forest that they were riding through was once the land of another Baron, which had been carefully managed for lumber, game and forage. On the map, a small village was placed near the edge of the woodlands. They had come across the occasional old, sunken homestead in the meadows that they rode through, but she couldn't tell whether any of those had been a part of the settlement marked on old survey.

Ludmila shook her head in response.

“Aside from our barony and the duchy capital, no,” she said. “The river as well, of course. Even the borders of many fiefs have changed since this map was made.”

“Speaking of which,” Momon asked, “what is that river near your village called? It seemed to have no name on the map. I found it strange with it being so large.”

Ludmila looked back at the map. The only place that the river appeared to be marked was as it passed by her home. There was a large valley marked to the south of E-Rantel as well. Perhaps it had not been fully explored at the time it was drawn.

“It’s the Katze River,” she said.

“The Katze River…” Momon said thoughtfully, “the same river that passes some distance south of E-Rantel into the haunted plains beyond?”

“Yes, the very same.”

“I see. This is why your territory continues to exist to this day.”

Ludmila nodded. Despite being an Adventurer whose expertise should lie elsewhere, he seemed to be intelligent enough to immediately make this particular connection.

After its founding, the Kingdom of Re-Estize quickly expanded from its heartlands far to the west. There were two major rivers in its eastern territories: the first flowed down from the great ranges of the Azerlisia Mountains, through the Great Forest of Tob, then onwards into the idyllic heartlands of the Kingdom past E-Libera. The second came out of the border ranges to the south, forming in a high wilderness basin before flowing through Warden’s Vale; eventually running its course past E-Rantel before disappearing into the Katze Plains beyond. The Katze River was the only large waterway in the duchy, thus E-Rantel mostly relied on a network of rural roads to service its landlocked territories.

A river was basically a free road that required relatively little effort to transport cargo compared to overland routes. As times grew harder, other fiefs buckled under the cost of maintaining infrastructure and protecting their merchant traffic. It was her family’s ambition to reclaim these lost lands and add them to their own holdings as Warden’s Vale developed, but even with the advantage that the river conferred, their barony barely managed to stay afloat financially.

“That doesn’t explain how this area ended up in such a state, though,” Momon said, gesturing to the landscape beyond them. “The map seems to suggest that all of this used to be a prosperous land.”

Ludmila thought on how to answer. Considering the two Adventurers appeared to be foreigners, she thought it prudent to ensure that they understood the history of the region.

“House Vaiself claimed these lands when Re-Estize was still expanding, then offered titles to those who could tame and hold it. Wealthy families – both of new cadet branches and merchant stock – quickly took advantage of this, claiming the areas closest to the main routes of travel and trade. Over time, successful Adventurers would settle the fringes to retire and establish a legacy for their families. With a dwindling number of landless scions available in such a short period of time, the King extended his offer to them as well.”

“So your family was descended from past Adventurers,” Momon inferred from her recital.

“House Zahradnik was founded by an Adventurer, yes,” she nodded. “He was a Ranger who fell in love with the pristine valley nestled in the highlands. He took the name of our house with the dream that our family’s home would one day become a verdant jewel, far from the crowded cities that our ancestors came from. With powerful Adventurers serving as Frontier Lords, the borders were quickly secured; the monsters and Demihuman tribes driven away. For his service, Andrei Zahradnik was granted his title of Baron and the royal family encouraged migration from the west to help grow his fledgling fief and those of others like him.”

Ludmila glanced towards Momon. She had lost herself in her own recounting of history, which she had learned alongside her siblings. Rather than appearing uninterested like her brothers had been, however, the dark warrior seemed to be listening intently. Taking advantage of her silence, he asked a question.

“The Kingdom of the past seems to have been far more progressive than what it has become today,” he said. “This would explain the promising picture portrayed on the map…but with a powerful legacy, how could this reversal in development happen so quickly? The sight you see around you right now isn’t that much different than many of the places that Nabe and I travelled through before arriving at your territory.”

The trio had passed out of what could properly be called a woodland. All around, the land was fallow and had grown wild after decades of neglect. Small groves of Aspen and Birch dotted the gently rolling landscape. Ludmila returned her gaze to Momon.

“Not all families are as fortunate as House Aindra.” Ludmila replied, referring to the famous noble house that had produced powerful Adventurers over consecutive generations, “While we are, on average, notably stronger than the people inland, children born to powerful Adventurers are not guaranteed to inherit the full strength of their parents. Of the succeeding generation after the first, out of all the southern Frontier Nobles, not a single man or woman had the individual power of their parents. Once in a while a generation will produce a scion that could come close to comparing to their founders, but it is unrealistic to expect a consistent line of strong descendants.”

The seemingly capricious Adventurer bloodlines of the Frontier Lords had, over the generations, become regarded as a curse of sorts by nearly all of the border houses. Without the same wealth, influence or connections of the merchants and nobles that had settled the interior had access to, the Adventurers-turned-Aristocrats had relied on personal strength to secure their lands and protect their people, as well as subsidize their fiefs through guild commissions. When succeeding generations had proven incapable of following in their founders’ footsteps, resources needed for development would be set aside for security instead – to hire Adventurers to assist in clearing their lands of bandits and monsters alike.

This irony of this was not lost on the Frontier Lords, and it weighed bitterly on their hearts. Ladies would be ashamed that they were unable to produce promising heirs, the question of their fidelity floating in malicious whispers beyond their hearing. Lords were left feeling inadequate and undeserving of their station, ever in the shadow cast by their ancestors. Left mired by their inheritance, they were chained down by the obligations and the duties that came with their titles even more so than their tenants were to the land.

Of her own immediate family, neither of her brothers displayed any outstanding qualities; nor did their mother or father – her parents were both Gold-ranked. Her maternal grandfather was said to be about as strong as a Platinum-ranked adventurer. No one that she was aware of in her ancestry came even close to matching the first Lord Zahradnik, who was an Adamantite-rank Ranger in his own right.

“I see,” Momon replied: as an Adventurer, he should have been well aware of this. “So the Frontier Lords leveraged their personal strength to offset the remoteness and undeveloped nature of their fiefs, but a generation was not enough time to secure enough wealth to sufficiently develop their lands. Then, as security broke down, the lands that depended on their protection were caught up in their problems as well.”

Once again, the Adamantite Adventurer displayed his expertise in matters beyond simple adventuring. Ludmila nodded in response to his words.

“It is as you say,” she said. “Once the borderlands lost their strong, unified resistance to the threats of the frontier, Demihumans and monsters started to encroach upon the lands on a regular basis. The Frontier Lords have been on the back foot ever since, until nearly all of the territories along the border ranges became too hostile for Humans to inhabit.”

Momon returned to the original topic from when they had left her home, seemingly satisfied that his understanding of the state of the southern frontier was adequate.

“That doesn’t explain why your territory was abandoned, though,” he said. “Your barony has held for over a century with its highly defensible position and access to the Katze River. This change seems to have occurred recently as well…what happened?”

“They fled south to the Theocracy about a week before you arrived,” Ludmila answered. “When we heard about what had happened at Katze, the decision was made to evacuate the village before the Empire could move on from E-Rantel. I dispatched Rangers to investigate the farmlands beyond this area: they all reported that the lands had been similarly abandoned.”

Their journey had brought them out to a fork in the muddy trail. There was what appeared to be the remains of a sign, but the placard had long since fallen off and only the aged, wooden pole it had been attached to remained. The pair of Adventurers slowed their mounts and stopped at the split in their path.

“That seems to be an all too common tale recently.” Momon’s voice seemed even, but there seemed to be something else to his words. “Tell me, Baroness. Was it your desire that they evacuate to the Theocracy?”

The conversation had taken an odd turn, but Ludmila answered anyway.

“I thought it best to wait until we were certain that there were forces coming to attack the village,” she said, “but I did not feel that the people would have done so, even if I had ordered it. The tale that the survivors returned with was so surreal and horrifying that a few villagers had already fled on their own – our ship was stolen the same night that they arrived. The least I thought I could do was ensure that everyone could make it safely through the wilderness which, at the same time, would minimize the damage to the village . Even so, I was secretly hoping that my lord father would return during our preparations and resolve the situation. In the end, however, they left...and I stayed.”

For a long moment, the air between them was only filled with the winds blowing across the plains from the north.

“So despite your wishes, your vassals abandoned you – they left their liege alone to save themselves.”

The sudden change in his tone was jarring. No – his steady tone remained the same, but the atmosphere that had surrounded their conversation developed a dark undercurrent of simmering anger. She felt Nabe go rigid in front of her. The woman raised a gloved hand to cover her mouth, but Ludmila could not see her expression from behind. Turning to stare at Momon, she couldn’t understand what was going on. It was as if her response had meant something else entirely to the two Adamantite Adventurers, and she alone remained ignorant of it. Ludmila was left shifting uncomfortably as the oppressive silence dragged on.

There was a sound of metal plates shifting against one another as Momon dismounted and the golem horse vanished into thin air. He walked over to Nabe’s mount, stopping near to where Ludmila was seated behind her.

“You mentioned that the other border territories were long abandoned?”

Momon held his hand out to her as he once again resumed speaking. The feeling about him had lightened considerably, but the grim aftertaste of what she had felt before still lingered in her mind.

“For several decades now, yes,” Ludmila replied.

She looked to the horizon, then back to Momon’s offered hand. Were they stopping here to camp overnight? The skies were clearing in the north, and the sun would still be out for a couple of hours yet.

“Then our work is done,” he told her. “We will travel directly to E-Rantel from here.”

Momon prompted Ludmila once again with his outstretched hand and assisted her off of the tall mount. Ludmila took her pack and waited beside him as Nabe dismounted and her horse vanished like its twin. The young noblewoman looked around them for a hole in the air, recalling the way her cargo was delivered earlier in the day.

“Nabe will be teleporting us to the city,” Momon explained. “You may feel some disorientation, but please try to relax.”

Momon adjusted the position of her other bag as Nabe stepped forward. She reached out with her hands and lightly laid them on Ludmila and Momon’s arms.

“「 Greater Teleportation 」.”

The air seemed to shift as Nabe completed casting her spell. The wide open meadows of the countryside were replaced by a large but secluded urban garden. Rows of buildings around them cast their shadows over the ground as the evening sun sank towards the city walls. The three of them were standing inside a large gazebo and, after looking around carefully, Ludmila saw that the buildings were the lavish guest houses of the city: she was in the administrative district of E-Rantel. To her left, the Royal Villa loomed over the surrounding area.

One by one, they stepped out of the gazebo onto the pavement of the garden lane, and Momon returned Ludmila’s other bag to her.

“This is where we must part ways,” he said. “Nabe and I need to report our findings to the central administration. I believe several guest houses have been prepared to receive the nobles that have come to answer their summons.”

They started to head in their separate directions, then Ludmila heard Momon’s voice behind her.

“By the way, Baroness Zahradnik,” his calm voice floated over her shoulder.

“Yes?” Ludmila stopped to look around at Momon again.

“I believe it would be prudent to limit the number of people that know about your Talent.”

“Talent?” Both Ludmila and Nabe asked after Momon curiously.

“Ah...I neglected to mention it to you, Nabe,” Momon said offhandedly. “Baroness Zahradnik has Truesight.”

Nabe’s eyes widened in shock, head turning to quickly look back and forth between the two. Then, all at once, the air was filled with overwhelming murderous intent.

“「Maximize Magic – Shocking Grasp」!”

Roiling arcs of azure current formed around Nabe’s outstretched arm, rolling down towards her hand as she shot forward with blinding speed towards the startled young noble.

Before Nabe could reach her, Momon’s arm came across Ludmila's vision. She saw the electricity jump to the dark warrior with a sharp crackling sound. Even though Nabe’s hand had impacted solidly with the full momentum of her body behind it, his arm did not budge. In the brief silence that followed, Momon’s crimson cloak floated back down to the ground after his sudden movement.

“Momon!” Nabe shouted in surprise after realizing that her spell had been thwarted.

“It’s fine, Nabe,” he told her calmly. “Leave her be.”

After a tense moment, Nabe finally withdrew her arm and relaxed from her aggressive stance. Momon turned to Ludmila.

“As you can see,” he said, “some people may react quite poorly to the realization that you have this ability. As a noble of the Sorcerous Kingdom, please refrain from causing panic amongst the citizenry with your gift.”

With his last cautionary note, Momon turned away to walk towards the Royal Villa with Nabe. As the pair receded into the distance, she saw Momon touch the nape of Nabe’s neck with his index finger. There was the sharp snick of static, and his partner jumped and stumbled forward with a squeak. Rubbing the back of her neck, she shot a hurt look at Momon, then directed a glare towards Ludmila who had been watching from a distance. Picking up her pace, Nabe walked far ahead of Momon and disappeared into the villa entrance.

Birthright: Act 1, Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Ludmila stood alone on the cobblestones after the doors of the Royal Villa closed behind Momon. The violent lesson that had accompanied his words left an unforgettable impression, but she still pondered the rest of what was said. She recalled Nabe’s inhuman form and thought that this ‘Sorcerer King’ perhaps ruled over many beings like her, or those even more bizarre. With this in mind, she could not help but peer about the empty district…but it seemed to be just that: empty.

Momon had informed her that she had a Talent – Truesight? – and thinking back on the day’s events, she supposed that it must be true. Beyond being able to see Nabe’s true appearance, however, she had no idea what exactly it did. Her entire life had been spent in the duchy’s lands surrounded by other Humans so there was nothing really out of the ordinary to notice, not even during her previous visits to E-Rantel. The world around her looked much the same as always. She had no recollection of anyone in her family having any sort of Talent, and her studies were similarly lacking when it came to the many mysteries of the world that had no impact on her generally mundane life.

She decided that there was no point in standing around agonizing over it. Uncertain about when she would be summoned to present herself before the Royal Court, Ludmila started making her way towards a certain area within the guest houses that occupied half of the central district. Arranged in a rough circuit lining the innermost wall of the city, the luxurious buildings were meant to offer hospitality to visiting aristocrats and dignitaries, as well as to provide permanent residences for the duchy’s nobles that preferred to conduct their affairs out of E-Rantel.

Ludmila’s family stayed in this part of the city during their usual winter visit. It was her lord father’s single major expenditure for the year: used both as a window to show his children the standards that wealthier nobles enjoyed, and a way to provide them with the most exposure to the other members of nobility to make connections with others in their limited time away from the border. The latter part was something that none of her family ever seemed to succeed in.

She easily oriented herself once she identified a few familiar landmarks. The street that encircled the entire district was normally quiet unless someone was hosting their guests outdoors, but the eerie atmosphere that hung in the air was decidedly unnatural. There were no servants going about their tasks, no sign of officials or dignitaries travelling to and fro on business. The lanes and buildings had been scoured clean; yards and gardens left perfectly groomed. The immaculate, polished appearance of her surroundings combined with the deathly silence gave everything a sterile feeling: much like that of a well-kept cemetery.

After following the street over its circular route for several minutes, she reached the building that was her destination: a large, single-story structure that served as a sort of clubhouse for both the district’s residents and it’s visitors. She thought that she would be able to find some of the staff servicing the district here and have them direct her to available accommodations. The stone path leading through the yard to the building was unattended, so she had to juggle her bags around in order to open the ornately fashioned entrance. The door whispered open on oiled hinges, and Ludmila slipped in on one side. Thankfully, the inner entrance of the landing was propped open, so she did not need to awkwardly maneuver herself in between to open the second set of doors. She stepped forward over onto the lush, crimson carpet to the front desk, setting her bags on the floor as she waited for the reception staff.

The motion in the foyer caused several of those inside to turn in her direction, which then prompted others to also face her way as well. Ludmila scanned the people that occupied the lounge just inside the clubhouse; she recognized many as nobles or members of noble families that held titles in the duchy.

As she looked over the group to identify each in turn, a familiar woman’s voice spoke from behind her.

“...Ludmila?”

It was tentative at first, but when Ludmila turned around to face the person who called her out to her, it overflowed with relieved certainty.

“Ludmila, it is you!”

A young woman close to her own age had come from the hallway leading to the more private areas of the building. She stepped forward excitedly, initially holding up her long cobalt skirts to run to her, until she remembered herself partway and assumed a more dignified pace.

“It has been a while, Clara.”

Ludmila smiled politely and made a warm greeting in return. Seeing the familiar face fanned the embers of her own hopes.

Clara was the daughter of Baron Corelyn, her name styled in the manner of the western nobility. House Corelyn administered the only other port on the Katze River, which lay several hours down the rise from where E-Rantel overlooked the surrounding lands. As trading partners, House Corelyn maintained a close relationship with House Zahradnik – Clara was betrothed to Ludmila’s eldest brother. She had a cheerful disposition which shone as brightly as the waves of her golden hair, and he had received the engagement happily. However, Ludmila saw no sign of her brother amongst the other nobles in the lounge.

“Lord Zahradnik and your brothers, are they well?” Clara took Ludmila’s hands in hers as she asked after her family.

Ludmila’s smile froze at the question. Because of Clara’s relationship to her brother she was about to ask the very same thing, but Clara’s question left her own hanging unspoken. Her close friend did not miss her reaction, and her warm hands grew as cold as Ludmila’s own.

“...but after the chaos,” Clara’s voice shook, “your ship was gone from the harbour – we thought that surely this meant they had returned home.”

Ludmila shook her head.

“The ship returned,” she replied, “but with only a handful of men. My lord father and my brothers were not amongst them. A part of why I came here was to see if I could find anyone.”

The exclusive location made it the natural place for nobles to gather in large groups, as was the case before her. She had hopes that even if her family wasn’t here, there would at least be someone with information on their whereabouts…or knew their fate. Encountering a familiar face had immediately raised her hopes, but they were dashed as surely as Clara's crestfallen expression. The almond eyes that she always remembered sparkling with life welled with tears, and Ludmila had to look away to avoid following suit.

There were maids spaced out evenly in the room, presumably to attend to the needs of their guests, but none came forward to the aid of the young noblewoman who had begun quietly sobbing. If anything, they seemed blissfully unaware of their responsibilities. The others in the lounge stood about murmuring to one another while observing the exchange – sound carried quite clearly by design in the open spaces of the clubhouse – they were probably digesting the new information. With some consternation, Ludmila searched for a place where she could take Clara that wouldn’t disturb the other guests.

A tired sigh turned her attention towards the lounge again as a figure rose from one of the chairs.

“Really, have you all forgotten how to conduct yourselves?”

A stern voice seemed to push aside the conversation from the younger nobles around her. She was a severe looking woman with steel grey hair that hung over her shoulder in a large braid, dressed in a conservative russet gown with little in the way of highlights or flourishes. Radiating the air of a noble matron who brooked little nonsense, Ludmila recognized her as Dowager Countess Vilette Jezne. Her deceased husband’s title had passed on to her son who had long since married, but she was still active and influential amongst the ladies of the ducal court.

As she made her way towards the pair in the foyer from the lounge, she continued in a reprimand that seemed to be addressing everyone within earshot.

“With everything that’s happened,” she said, “the last thing we need is you lot continuing to mope around like a bunch of invalids. Just how long must this go on for?”

While she spoke, the sharp clicking of heels from a different hallway could be heard that drew everyone’s attention away from her.

Another maid had emerged from the corridor that Clara had appeared from. She was quite tall – a bit taller than Ludmila – with a measured stride exuding confidence and grace. Pale, almost translucent skin emphasized a picturesque beauty that made her wonder if this woman was not actually some impossibly fine statue carved from the purest marble. The generous curves of her figure amply filled out the lines of her outfit, but unlike many young women who would surely flaunt such an advantage, she held a strictly formal posture while her immaculate uniform retained its crisp and conservative appearance. Light from the entryway gave a rich sheen to her jet black hair, which was made up into a tall bun. The glow of the evening glimmered off of the black frames of her spectacles as she stepped forward.

As the nobles in the room stood entranced by the beautiful maid, she walked up to the pair at the front desk and lightly placed her hand around Clara’s shoulder.

“Baroness Corelyn, you must stay strong,” the maid gently admonished the sniffling noblewoman. “Come, let’s find you a place to rest.”

She slowly led Clara away from the gaze of the onlookers in the lounge, speaking in soothing tones. Ludmila suddenly realized that Clara had also been addressed by her father’s title – her father and brothers must have gone missing as well.

Up until that point, Ludmila thought the maid bore some sort of similarity to the guise of Nabe of Darkness, but her care for the distraught Lady Corelyn gave her a much warmer impression – much like what Ludmila imagined an older sister might feel. She was so captivating that even the previously unresponsive maids that were supposed to be attending the room were paying close attention to her.

“Hmph,” a grunt from the side caused Ludmila to start. “At least someone has their head on straight.”

Vilette Jezne spoke as the maid slowly led Baroness Corelyn out of the building. She had walked the rest of the way from the lounge area while the scene between Clara and the maid had drawn everyone else’s attention – Ludmila suspected that the old noblewoman had purposely moved close before speaking to startle her.

“I always thought that you were one of the more grounded kids in the batch,” the aged woman told her, “but it seems like you’re just about as helpless as the rest.”

Though Ludmila did not particularly enjoy being the target of the Dowager Countess’ criticisms, she felt slightly relieved that the old woman seemed none the worse for wear. The irritable matron was actually a driving force amongst the noblewomen of the duchy, often haranguing even married ladies over their behaviour and actions, or lack thereof. Given the situation that they had now all found themselves in, having Vilette Jezne around was a greatly reassuring thing.

“And what about you, hm?” Vilette Jezne went on, “How long are you going to stand in the doorway like some sort of lost page?”

Her voice shot over Ludmila's shoulder, stabbing into its unsuspecting target. Ludmila turned at the sound of a boy gasping as the words found their mark.

He was perhaps twelve years of age…no, maybe not even that. Dressed in the finery of a noble that hung loosely in several places, it seemed that he still had yet to fully grow into his clothing. By his general appearance and lack of visible attendants, he had neither the care nor attention of any servants. What looked to be a failed attempt at taming his sandy hair topped off the unkempt, rascally image. In a more normal situation, his insecure appearance and nervous manner might have tickled some urge to tease or protect him by a gaggle of older girls, but for the time being Ludmila snatched his arm and led him to the lounge where the other nobles awaited before the ornery old lady could lash out at him again.

Several long couches, as well as an assortment of plush chairs, were loosely organized in a circle around the centre of the open space. A huge, midnight blue rug lay over most of the floor, cushioning the steps of those who traversed the room. Standing in groups between three or four people, the nobles in attendance had divided themselves up in a conspicuous manner that Ludmila could not quite put her finger on. Before she could ponder the arrangement for long, Vilette Jezne had made her way to the centre of the room, clapping her hands to gain everyone’s attention.

“This is as many as we’re bound to get, I suppose.” She began after enough heads had turned to face her, “It is high time we get our affairs in order.”

Birthright: Act 1, Chapter 12

Chapter 12

With Vilette Jezne’s words, the casual atmosphere of the room turned weighty. There was a loose rustling over the air as chatter dispersed and the various nobles around the lounge settled into their seats, readying themselves for the business at hand. When the motion around the room ceased and all heads turned towards her, she continued.

“I trust that, by now, everyone is familiar with the terms of E-Rantel’s annexation?”

As her gaze slowly swept over the nobles in attendance, she was met with many nods and other affirmative gestures. Ludmila had not seen these terms, but remained silent as she did not wish to interrupt the proceedings. Perhaps the following discussion would clue her in on what they were.

“I share in the opinion that they are generous indeed,” Vilette Jezne said as she finished looking over the assembly, “His Majesty has decided that the laws of Re-Estize are to be retained. This includes the Crown Laws, as well as the ducal laws set forth by Lord Rettenmeier on behalf of our former liege where they are applicable. As such, we have also retained our titles, rights and obligations as nobles of this realm. The laws of Re-Estize protect nobles from unjust actions by other parties, including His Majesty himself, and so too are we similarly protected by these laws that have been adopted by the Sorcerous Kingdom.”

Ludmila nodded to herself, quietly absorbing the content of the noble matron’s address. That the legal framework of Re-Estize had been kept intact was in line with what Momon suggested when they had first met. It meant that rather than uproot what had been established in favour of his own methods, the Sorcerer King saw fit to build upon the existing legal and administrative systems.

“His Majesty’s representative, Lady Albedo, has also maintained that the appointment of executive offices remains the sole right of the Crown. The legislative branches of the government shall similarly remain unchanged – the royal, regional and local courts will function in a manner similar to how we’ve conducted our affairs in the past.”

If the few remaining nobles standing in the clubhouse lounge represented all that remained of the aristocracy, Ludmila felt that the old arrangement would be somewhat superfluous. The upper and lower courts of Re-Estize were attended by a noble’s vassals, as well as any foreign petitioners, and at each level functioned in a similar manner. The Royal Court was attended to by the King’s vassals, who represented the interests of their own courts. The courts of the King’s vassals, in turn, would be attended to by their own vassals, who held their own courts. In this way, only the issues which impacted the realm as a whole – such as war and large scale disasters – would filter up to the royal court. Disputes between farmers, matters of maintenance and local justice would not make it past the nobles who ruled directly over the land, or their appointed proxies.

Since E-Rantel was a duchy belonging to King Ramposa III, and was appointed a Royal Provost in the form of Lord Rettenmeier, the King had been their representative in the Royal Court of Re-Estize. Now, however, the regional court of E-Rantel was the Royal Court. Ludmila wondered if that meant that they simply planned to just keep the Royal Court as a council of appointed advisors and ministers. Either that, or the Sorcerous Kingdom had further plans for expansion and the creation of new titles…

“More relevant to recent events,” Vilette Jezne’s voice carried on, “as the Sorcerous Kingdom has a powerful standing military, the need for levies should be next to nonexistent. As with everything else, the laws surrounding them have remained unchanged; I believe this to have been left in place for only the most dire of emergencies. The highest court of justice will remain as it is, reporting to the Crown. Details on how local laws are enacted and justice is enforced remains under deliberation for the time being: if nothing changes, it should remain the jurisdiction of the local administration.”

At the last, voices from around the room began to murmur. After many consecutive years of having their manpower tied up for months due to the annual confrontation with the Empire, it was a welcome piece of news that they would no longer be expected to raise armies to fight for the King short of an emergency. The statement on local authority raised all sorts of questions, however.

“Does that mean we can no longer create laws that address the issues unique to our fiefs?” A noblewoman’s voice arose from Ludmila’s left, “If we are still allowed to do so, but lose our right to enforce those laws, are we to depend on His Majesty to act on our behalf?”

The low murmur rose as the nobles around the room discussed the points presented. It was indeed something to consider. Different fiefs had different industries and regulations associated with those industries, so it was concerning that the disparate territories might not be able to create local laws to address their specific needs. It would also be extremely odd for a minor noble to wait for the sovereign to enforce laws in their own small territories when it could just as easily be accomplished with the retainers or militia on hand.

Vilette Jezne cleared her throat, and the lounge settled down once again.

“I believe that these details are a matter to be brought up in the future once the regular proceedings of the courts have resumed. In similar vein to our concerns over local laws, the…Guardian Overseer has also expressed that amendments to the Crown Laws are not beyond consideration, and that new laws will be created to meet the country’s needs as the nature of our Sorcerous Kingdom is unlike that of the Human society which we have been raised in.

Once again, I must remind you that these terms are already beyond our best expectations, and that we should count ourselves fortunate. If this duchy had been annexed by the Empire, they would have torn apart whatever did not suit them to establish their own order, regardless of preexisting laws and vassal arrangements. Do not mistake this generosity for tolerance, however: the fate of Count Fassett should be proof enough that the Royal Court will not suffer fools.”

As the aged noblewoman continued to speak, Ludmila felt increasingly out of touch. What happened to Count Fassett? What in the world was a Guardian Overseer? It seemed to be some sort of official position within the Royal Court, an unfamiliar title that begged description.

Count Fassett ruled over the lands on the western border of the duchy, straddling the main highway leading to the rest of the Kingdom. This made him one of the most prominent nobles in the territory, and he took advantage of his station in many ways. Her father had mentioned that he was a fairly aggressive man that leveraged the incomes and advantageous position of his territory to influence local politics, but the Royal Provost, Lord Mayor Panasolei Greuze Day Rettenmeier, had always kept his political aggression well in hand.

At the thought of the rotund man, she recalled that he and the administrative staff of the city had fled. Even if the nobles could get their territories up and running again, how was the central administration to function without clerks and accountants? Finding educated people that were qualified for these positions was not something that could be done in a matter of weeks. Unfortunately, Vilette Jezne was not so accommodating to her ignorance as to answer her unspoken question, moving directly onto her next order of business.

“In the meantime,” Count Jezne told them, “I believe that we should answer the Sorcerer King’s trust in our capabilities by restoring productivity to the territories. Though…I suppose our first order of business should be to sort out the damage done to our houses and reorder the ranks.”

She looked around and let out a derisive noise.

“The lot of you look like some peasants at market about to start fighting over the day’s scraps. Nothing will get done until you fix this.”

Ludmila, already feeling a bit lost as the noble matron jumped between topics already familiar to the rest, stared blankly until the last piece fell into place with the aged woman’s barb. She looked around the lobby again and finally understood why she initially thought the arrangement of attendees seemed off. The few noblemen in attendance were mostly too young. Everyone else was either a daughter of a landed noble or the wife or mother of one.

Her mind went back to Milivoj's testimony. Though she had acted on the news and evacuated her people, Ludmila held onto the hope that she would eventually find her own family in the city. In hindsight, she should have known that the horrific events detailed in the account of the traumatized villager would have exacted a toll on everyone that had been at Katze.

Vilette Jezne was no longer simply the Dowager Countess Jezne: her entire family had probably perished and the title had fallen back to her – Countess Jezne would now need to find some distant relation or adopt a suitable successor, as she was well past childbearing age. Ludmila looked at each of the attendees: faces, names, houses; reconstructing the web of the new political reality of the realm.

Most of the women present she had seen before on previous visits to the capital; either through interactions between houses or at the various social events and venues that had served as a pleasant backdrop to the dealings of the ladies of the nobility. The young girls and women now in attendance were the eldest unmarried daughters of each house. The older women were the wives or mothers of noble houses with no qualified successors.

As for Countess Jezne’s scornful remark about fighting for scraps, there was a tremendous problem. The number of eligible consorts in the realm had become disproportionately small compared to the single, childless noblewomen that had suddenly inherited all at once. She now understood the nature of the strange groups of nobles arranged about the lobby: each had one or two boys in it, pressed in on all sides by women who were now in competition over a scarce resource.

She looked to the lordling that she had brought in with her from the front desk: he was still timidly hovering around her. Several ladies nearby were sizing him up like a tender morsel, but none would dare directly challenge a Frontier Noble. Looking around, she saw that a Countess had even gone so far as to claim the twin sons of one of her own baronies.

It’s not like I marked this kid for myself or anything...

He wasn’t too far off from her own age, actually. She stole a glance at the boy again: he was probably three or four years younger.

The sigil of one of the inner houses was embroidered onto his oversized coat. The inner nobles were the members of the aristocracy that held titles close enough to E-Rantel to base their primary residence in the city or close to it. They tended to have the most developed fiefs and owned most of the industries around the city, as well as have the greatest access to trade and various connections…

The boy put on something of a hunted look – as if he had suddenly realized his current place of refuge might have not been as safe as he had initially thought. Ludmila was too busy calculating to notice, though, idly tapping her chin with her index finger.

“Baroness Zahradnik.”

The cogs in her mind froze at the sound of a familiar voice behind her. She turned to see the tall, beautiful maid that had led the weeping Baroness Corelyn to a room waiting a respectful distance away.

“Yes?” Ludmila.

“Your presence is required in the council chamber,” the maid told her, “by order of the Royal Court.”

The summons had come sooner than expected, but in an entirely unexpected fashion. Using a maid to deliver a royal summons was entirely unheard of by any nation in the region. Ludmila glanced out of the corners of her eyes to gauge the reactions of the other nobles, but they only stood by quietly: watching her in turn.

Ludmila had not yet moved into a residence, nor had she changed from her travelling clothes. However, she could not delay the audience. If this maid was delivering the will of the Royal Court, then she also represented the authority of the Sorcerer King. This being the case, there was only one answer. Quickly arranging her common appearance as best as she could, she lowered herself in a deep curtsey before the maid.

“I am at His Majesty’s service.”

The maid smiled gently and turned to walk towards the exit of the clubhouse. Ludmila followed her out of the clubhouse, taking one last look back at the lounge: three other noblewomen had already converged on the boy that she had left to their predations, and the gathering of nobles had gone on to discuss other matters. With the summons taking precedence over the nobles’ session, she hoped that she wouldn’t fall even further behind.

Birthright: Act 1, Chapter 13

Chapter 13

The measured tread of metal sabatons echoed through the empty halls of E-Rantel’s Royal Villa. Remaining equipped in Momon’s armour, Pandora’s Actor strode past the displays of exquisite art and luxurious furniture without even so much as a disinterested glance: he had already come down these halls on multiple occasions, and there was nothing new or interesting of note in the first place. The magical lighting lining the walls had been kept purposely dim and reflected weakly off of his dark armour and the polished marble floors. After catching up with Narberal, his mind became preoccupied with other things as he made his way through the corridors – none of their details went much beyond a simple registration of his surroundings.

Albedo, the Guardian Overseer, insisted on convening at least twice a week. Out on the field, he and Narberal needed to regularly interrupt their journey and return to E-Rantel via teleportation magic to attend. The meetings had originally been twice per day, until several of the other NPCs had appealed for changes; the frequent interruptions interfered with their personal duties and assigned tasks. In truth, Albedo’s obsessive perfectionism when it came to administrative matters would have probably had them constantly conferring with one another if she could somehow make it possible.

Though Pandora’s Actor was well aware of her nature, he could still hardly fault her. Before the advent of their Master’s new realm, information regarding the state of the lands surrounding Nazarick had been treated as little more than a tiny part of the threat assessment taken of the regions nearby when they had initially arrived. However, now that Nazarick had come into its ownership, its denizens – Albedo and himself in particular – felt compelled to learn more of its history and peoples to discover the means to most effectively influence and govern them. The Guardian Overseer had taken to the task of overseeing the administration of the newly acquired territory as a natural extension of her role in the Great Tomb of Nazarick.

Unlike Nazarick, however, this world was an alien place and Albedo lacked the tools and resources that she needed to perform what she considered her duties. She had neither the information to run the Sorcerous Kingdom to her exacting standards, nor the means to collect that information at a level of detail which would satisfy her. There were no automated systems or status screens that would quickly deliver accurate and comprehensive data to one’s fingertips so, with the expectations of their Master on her shoulders, she could hardly be held accountable for not being able to act with much confidence. It wouldn’t be a stretch to say that, in his immediate role as Momon, he was also in the best position to acquire a feel for the territory and assist her. Unfortunately, to their vexed frustration, they had worked tirelessly to achieve only a simple, incomplete picture regarding the state of the realm since it’s annexation.

The cooperation of the remaining nobles in the territory had been their best hope for a smooth transition, but the aristocracy was still reeling from the results of Katze Plains. As their own lands were being directly contested, every fief had answered fully when King Ramposa III called his banners; by the end of the massacre, every fief had suffered catastrophic losses. Those that survived had fled or otherwise disappeared, leaving a confused group of aristocrats that had no previous expectations of inheritance and thus no thorough preparations to assume the management of their titles. While many were still the recipients of a noble’s education, it was simply no substitute for long years of being groomed for the role.

Unlike Baroness Zahradnik, whom they had just returned with, it would be fair to say that none of the other nobles were in any condition to manage their lands; the past week was simply insufficient for them to come to terms with their new reality. It was as if the girl had been cut from an entirely different cloth and, going by her account of history, this was actually the case: the resilient nature of her frontier heritage and strong bloodline had allowed her to land on her feet, so to speak – or at least maintain function to a workable degree.

As he mused over the unexpected gem that they had discovered, the two doppelgangers reached the doors to the audience chamber. Though nearly five metres high, the thick Ironwood offered little resistance as he made his entrance. He crossed the threshold, walked through the short antechamber and into the main space, where a feminine voice greeted him from the shadows beyond.

“Thank you for your hard work, Momon.”

Seated behind the desk at the head of the room was the Guardian Overseer. Despite working without rest for weeks, she maintained her pristine smile and spotless appearance: the diaphanous dress of pure white that was her main article of clothing remained spotless and unwrinkled; her black hair and feathered wings well-groomed. The Demon’s amber eyes followed them as they made their way into the chamber. If she had any feelings of stress or fatigue, not a hint of it could be sensed out of the austere image that she projected.

The large audience hall had been converted into a council chamber shortly after their acquisition of E-Rantel. Albedo’s desk was placed to the right of the throne on its raised dais – they were still debating over what would be an appropriate replacement for the shabby wooden one that the previous ruler used. Two rows of tables, lined with short benches facing inwards, had been placed on low platforms along the walls. The arrangement gave all who attended a clear view of the large rectangular table that occupied the centre of the room. Tall windows occupied one wall from floor to ceiling, but thick drapes had been drawn tightly over them, completely preventing any light from creeping inside. As with the halls on the way through the Royal Villa, the magical lighting here was kept purposely dim: save for a spotlight that spilled over the centre of the chamber.

It appeared that several of the others were already present: Sebas was seated at the table to Albedo's right; seated across the chamber from Sebas were Cocytus and Shalltear, with Entoma behind them. Narberal had taken to the wall behind Sebas, and she had already donned her uniform as a member of the Pleiades. Pandora’s Actor elected to stay in Momon’s armour and moved to tastefully complete the balance in the room, taking a seat on the bench beside Sebas’ own.

Demiurge was attending to his projects far to the southwest in the Abelion Hills and only appeared at their meetings occasionally. This also meant that Aura and Mare would be watching over Nazarick while the other guardians were present here. Their Master, Ainz Ooal Gown, had withdrawn from the public eye: shutting himself away for some purpose beyond their understanding.

After Pandora’s Actor settled into his seat, Albedo broke the silence.

“Report.”

“The city and it’s people remain at peace.”

“No unexpected developments. At. The. Lake.”

“Absolutely nothing new~”

A vein popped up on Albedo's temple as the last response was punctuated by a bored yawn. Her slitted, glowing eyes stabbed in the direction of Pandora’s Actor – the annoyance at the lack of anything useful from the others was clearly evident. Folding his gauntleted hands over the table, he leaned back on his seat and looked at each of the assembled members in turn before settling on his presentation.

“We completed our sweep of the southwestern region of the Duchy,” his bold voice filled the chamber. “Development of the lands has deteriorated as much as the preliminary reports by Aura suggested. Little remains of the Human expansion indicated by the records we discovered left in the city; it wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that the lands have become mostly feral beyond the main arteries of trade. Though it’s regrettable that we’re unable to take advantage of past developments, this also means we’ll have a free hand in reshaping the region to suit our Master’s purposes.”

Keeping his report simple, he laid out a cue for Albedo’s usual lament, one that she had expressed in one form or another recently.

“And how do you propose we do this?” Her fuming was barely contained, “There are barely enough farmers to help direct the cultivation of the lands nearest to the city – if we can even get them to stop cowering and start working. These nobles are similarly useless: I had some tiny expectation of their being able to handle at least minor administrative tasks, but they're all still preoccupied with wailing into each other’s skirts!”

Albedo was furious when they first discovered just how perilous the condition of E-Rantel had become after the occupation of the duchy. While the losses from the Battle of Katze Plains were factored in, the state of its inhabitants was beyond their expectations. Before the territory was formally handed over, over half the population had fled – nearly all of this number from the rural areas. Every one of the surviving nobles that was present to witness the one-sided massacre had uprooted themselves as well, leaving a hodgepodge of widows and orphans to inherit the shambles of the aftermath.

Most of the citizens of the urban areas had nowhere to go, so they remained to fearfully await their fate. With Momon being dispatched to the rural territories to keep everything from falling apart entirely, the city folk lost their sense of safety and hid themselves away in their homes: only briefly appearing once in a while to secure provisions. Though their fears were unfounded – that there was no grim fate that awaited them at the hands of some sort of Undead abomination – it did not remedy the fact that nothing was happening. E-Rantel served as the duchy capital and a major hub of inland trade, but with no active rural populations to service and commerce suddenly nonexistent, the city’s economy was effectively frozen. Pandora’s Actor had initially played this tug-of-war between keeping the people of the city confident enough to leave their homes and going out into the territories to do the same but, in the end, decided that the city would have to wait since it could not serve its primary function anyways until the territories were returned to normal.

Albedo had originally expressed a great amount of anticipation: the prospect of having new lands to administer was a means to advertise her quality to their Master, but it quickly turned into helpless frustration when it was apparent that the duchy had effectively broken down. Still, though, she had figuratively rolled up her sleeves and dug in for the long battle to get things up and running again. This was certainly admirable, but the fact of the matter was that she could not do everything herself.

“Ah, on that note, we did find someone of value while we were out there,” Pandora’s Actor slid smoothly into the wake of her exasperation, “there was still one frontier holding that was still populated.”

Frowning at the realization that she had been used as a segue, Albedo snatched a large sheet of paper out from between the piles of books and documents on her desk: it was the same map of the duchy that he and Narberal both had, with amendments made to it as new information from their travels became available.

“Which territory?” She said as she placed the map before her.

“Zahradnik,” he replied. “Guardian of the upper reaches of the Katze River, on the southwestern border with the wilderness.”

Albedo’s eyes flashed towards him as though in reprimand for his applying the term Guardian to such a lowly creature. However, Warden’s Vale was the gateway between the Duchy of E-Rantel and the vast wilderness beyond, so the purpose of this noble house was clearly to be the first line of defence against invaders. As her eyes scanned the map and applied the new information to the overall portrait in her mind, he knew that the strategic value of this location would further reinforce the notion of a role that they were all well acquainted with.

“So you believe that this Baron will be useful?” She asked.

“Baroness, actually. I–”

“Another orphaned girl, you mean?” Albedo rolled her eyes as she cut him short, “We have more than enough of those useless sops weeping their days away in the city already.”

“On the contrary,” Pandora’s Actor raised a hand to stay her disdain, “she appears to have several years of experience administering her own fief already. If I may say so myself, she is far more competent than her age would suggest – though her worldview appears to be mostly limited to matters pertaining to her immediate duties. In addition, she comes from a strong Adventurer bloodline and possesses one of the so-called Talents that these natives have. Her value is far greater than the average citizen here.”

“I’ve had my fill of those so-called Talents,” Albedo sneered. “You were present yourself the last time they were demonstrated, I believe. It had better not be something utterly pointless like that vermin with the ability to divine one’s undergarments.”

Their Master was present at the demonstration as well, and Albedo had been mortified. Pandora’s Actor wondered if the man with the ‘Legendary Talent’ was still alive.

“I suppose that, in a way, they are somewhat similar…” he mused.

There was a sharp expulsion of frozen air from Cocytus, who was sitting across from him, and a snick sound as the pen Albedo had been using to take notes snapped in half.

“The girl has what appears to be Truesight,” Pandora’s Actor said lightly.

The already quiet room grew quieter still. The air seemed to grow ever colder, and Albedo loomed malevolent over her desk – as if she could use her glare to pin Pandora’s Actor to his seat.

Truesight was an ability that existed in Yggdrasil as well. While he was not absolutely certain that the girl’s Talent was exactly the same, what he had seen of it seemed close enough as to not matter. Truesight granted its wielder a powerful visual perception that foiled any and all forms of mystical and supernatural deception arrayed before it. This meant that anything from simple magical illusions to high-tier spells like Perfect Unknowable were powerless against her ability. Attacks that attempted to fool the target into believing that they were being injured, drowned or subjected to various debilitating effects would similarly be rendered useless if what was projected onto them did not match the reality that they saw. The true form of shapeshifters such as Doppelgangers, as well as all other similarly disguised Heteromorphs, were instantly laid bare.

The effects of this sense were emulated by the mid-tier spell True Seeing and was part of the repertoire of many of Nazarick’s casters; its utility for the role played by its wielders abundantly clear. As a spell, it could be countered or nullified by magical effects that protected against divination – such as Narberal’s Ring of Non-Detection – but if it was simply a part of one’s natural perception, there was no passive supernatural countermeasure against an ability that effortlessly defeated such countermeasures. Indeed, every floor of Nazarick had at least a handful of patrols that combined Truesight with high natural perception to defeat attempts by invaders to sneak by undetected through a combination of various means.

Baroness Zahradnik was much like one of these sentries: though nowhere near as powerful in combat, she could call to attention anything magically concealed or supernaturally altered and potentially create an endless amount of problems.

“Pandora’s Actor, you…”

“Hm? Ah, of course I was wearing Momon’s full plate armor, so she doesn’t know,” He chuckled. “It’s quite humbling to realize that Ainz-sama took my then-future role into consideration from the outset of this persona.”

The tension in the room lessened visibly.

“Baroness Zahradnik saw Narberal, though,” he added nonchalantly.

All of the heads in the room immediately snapped around to face Narberal. Ever since the young noblewoman had been brought up as a topic of discussion, the battle maid had been trying to inconspicuously blend into the shadowed wall. She glanced back and forth nervously, unsure how to respond.

Albedo spoke first, however.

“I find it difficult to believe that you of all people do not understand the ramifications of this.”

“Indeed,” he nodded gravely. “It is because of who I am that I understand perhaps better than anyone else.”

The cavalier tone of Pandora’s Actor became deadly serious as he parried the Guardian Overseer’s accusatory statement. The uncharacteristic shift caused all eyes in the room to once again be riveted onto him.

While he had had some interactions with the other members of Nazarick, by and large most only knew Pandora’s Actor to be the mysterious NPC that defended and managed the Guild Treasury. While they also knew that he possessed the same degree of intellect as Demiurge and Albedo, most did not treat him as seriously due to his relatively carefree and quirky attitude – he was an existence that was merely a fact and not much else. As he emerged from the shadows and received more responsibilities, however, he had come to understand one more thing: that his being the creation of Momonga – Ainz Ooal Gown – subtly influenced the way the others weighed and measured his words and actions.

Upon broaching the subject of Baroness Zahradnik, the die was cast and he now brought his considerable abilities to bear. For the first time, the other NPCs understood what it meant when Pandora’s Actor took the stage. With a single sentence hanging in the air, the shadow of his presence emanated intangible tendrils into the silence that latched onto the hearts and minds of his audience and refused to let go. Their postures straightened; tongues stilled. They were pressed into the backs of their chairs by his sheer force of personality and simply watched and waited, holding their breaths; awaiting the next line of his performance.

Birthright: Act 1, Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Pandora’s Actor had thrown himself wholeheartedly into his assignment as liaison to the citizens of the Sorcerous Kingdom. The days and weeks passed, his experiences accumulated and, in his guise as Momon, he had been provided the opportunity to learn a great many things about the people over whom their Master ruled, as well as his fellow denizens of Nazarick who assisted in that rule.

The vast majority of the natives that had come under Nazarick’s dominion were Humans: formerly of the Kingdom of Re-Estize. There were also varied populations of nonhumans that lived to the north in the Great Forest of Tob. The relatively small and simple tribes of the Demihumans and scattered Heteromorphs were relatively easy to manage – they had mostly straightforward traditions, respected strength, and as long as that strength led to provision and security, falling in line was a matter of course.

The hundreds of thousands of Humans living in the Duchy of E-Rantel, however, were another matter altogether. A complex snarl of politics, culture and commerce came with their civilization and reshaping their society would not be as simple as a decisive conquest and the promise of continued existence. Even as Momon, who was a heroic figure who had won their trust and acclaim, his reassurances and bravado came second to their uncertainty and fear. The task was uniquely challenging to the denizens of Nazarick, whose whole existence previously revolved around maintaining and defending the home of the Supreme Beings – either they would keep unwelcome guests out, or they would die trying.

Even with the overwhelming might of their new sovereign made plain to see, the Humans could still not be coaxed out of their fearful state and, with the restrictions their Master had placed on the denizens of Nazarick, unjustified measures against them were not an option. Beyond cleaning up the city and clearing out bandits and other harmful elements from the lands, little progress had been made with the Humans as a whole. Carne Village, which had seen the personal intervention of Ainz Ooal Gown and his servants on multiple occasions was the sole exception, but they were a single point of data where many thousands more were required – not to mention it was not so much a Human village than a Demihuman town, now.

If the King will not lead, his nobles will not follow.

Baroness Zahradnik’s matter-of-fact statement from their discussion on the way back from the border had struck him in its profound simplicity. She had perhaps handed him a piece of the far greater puzzle that had been confounding the NPCs of Nazarick ever since their arrival in this strange new world.

Their Master had gone to great lengths to perform seemingly menial tasks and went about establishing ploys so simple that they made many believe there was some other scheme in play. Rather than ordering a swift and easy conquest of the laughably weak peoples that inhabited the region, every scenario had numerous conditions – a plethora of stipulations which left his servants in a quandary: at times even having them experience the bitter taste of failure. They had been purposely placed in roles that they were ill-equipped to face and Ainz Ooal Gown only spoke at length about their actions and experiences after the fact. Even in the face of what the NPCs themselves considered unacceptable, he ultimately offered forgiveness and personally shouldered all of the responsibility.

The NPCs had been left in a mentally tentative state after each episode, their pride often kicked out from under them; perception and expectation overturned in equal measure. But...had Ainz Ooal Gown actually been acting to lead them? Was everything up to this point a series of exercises devised by their Master to prepare them for the challenges ahead?

And, if this was true, was their lack of progress and resulting inaction as his subordinates essentially the same as vassals failing to follow after their King?

Pandora’s Actor considered the discussion that had accompanied the young noblewoman’s statement; it did indeed basically describe their current situation. As the noble houses of Re-Estize simply continued to function independently without recognizable guidance from King Ramposa III, the denizens of Nazarick within the Sorcerous Kingdom even now continued their regular modes of operation. Undead sentinels stood silent vigil at every street corner; those assigned to maintenance kept the city orderly and clean. Even Albedo, eminently qualified to serve as the central executive of the realm, sat impotently behind a desk waiting for work to do; for information to analyze and act upon. They were all simply holding to their respective duties, waiting for invaders to defend against or preparing for future problems that they were better suited to deal with. It was as if they had all collectively considered the Sorcerous Kingdom to be a much larger version of Nazarick, but clearly this approach was not working.

If everything Ainz Ooal Gown had done so far pointed in the direction that he wished for his servants to go, then they were all unknowingly failing him by not taking his example and lessons to heart. If all his carefully laid efforts went to waste, how would he react? Would he keep trying, or would he simply give up and abandon them like the other Supreme Beings?

Pandora’s Actor’s heart quaked at the mere shadow of that thought.

In the end, he concluded that the situation had become untenable and he would need to set things into motion to prevent that most dreaded of ends. The fact that the pieces that were required to enact his plan had come together all at once made him feel that his role was part of some unknowable grand design; his Creator once again its masterful architect. With this reassuring thought, he leaned back into his chair, crossing his arms while he resumed speaking.

“I had the opportunity to speak at length with the young lady about a great many matters before our return,” he said, “and I believe we stand to gain by enlisting her cooperation.”

Contrary to the dramatic stand he had taken just before, his voice returned to its carefully modulated tone. With the invisible pressure released from the room, Albedo quickly recovered and immediately responded.

“How can you be so sure of this?” Her voice was laced with disbelief, “A casual afternoon chat on the road is hardly–”

She immediately swallowed her words as Pandora’s Actor raised his left hand, tapping a finger against his temple.

“Of course I can be sure,” he replied. “I am a Doppelganger, after all – the greatest of my kind in Nazarick. The Baroness had no means to resist my power to read her thoughts as she spoke…never mind that, she didn’t even realize that her mind was being read; her responses carefully measured.”

Seeing the Guardian Overseer’s eyes narrow as she sought to find a crack in his defences, he pressed his attack.

“It has been nearly a week since we were fully entrusted with the stewardship of our Master’s new realm. A week with no progress towards restoring nominal operations in this territory. You should know more than any of us what is ultimately required to have the citizens of this nation take the first steps towards their new lives as subjects of the Sorcerous Kingdom. You bemoan the dysfunctional nature of its aristocracy – who serve as its administrative machinery beyond the city walls – and how they are useless in the wake of their recent losses.

I have identified an asset in the form of this individual that can be employed to help begin the process that has eluded us thus far, yet you continue to wallow in your embittered frustrations. Demiurge has stated that the ultimate goal of our Master is World Domination, and we all know that we have taken but a tiny first step towards the future our Master has envisioned. For the time being, Ainz-sama has minimized his interactions with us, keeping mostly to himself…but sooner or later, he will take action again.

When that time comes, what accomplishments will we have to display to him in the span he has graciously allotted to us? When he proceeds onwards and reveals to us the next stage of his plans, what will your response be?

‘Ainz-sama, wait! Please give us more time!’?”

The last, plaintive line was delivered in Albedo’s own voice, and she visibly recoiled. Her eyes widened, and her fingers unconsciously moved to press against her lips – as if she could prevent more shameful words from leaving a mouth that was not even her own. The other NPCs turned their attention to the Guardian Overseer with worried expressions; without exception, their greatest fear was to fail in their service to the last of the Supreme Beings that remained with them. This, in addition to the relentless advance by Pandora’s Actor, had mercilessly driven her into a corner.

With her pride on the line and little room to maneuver, she turned to the only avenue that would enact the ends that she sought.

“Very well, then,” she said. “Let us decide the fate of Baroness Zahradnik.”

With the subject framed in the manner that it was by Pandora’s Actor, Albedo could not arbitrarily decide to remove what she perceived as an unnecessary complication without losing face in front of the others. Instead, she decided to leverage the opinions of those seated around the audience chamber. In short, it had become a vote.

Hidden behind the dark metal visor, the corners of Momon’s mouth turned upwards. In truth, the commands of the Guardian Overseer could not normally be opposed by the denizens of Nazarick – she had been created to hold authority over them, after all – but by exploiting her pride, he had achieved his objective.

Sebas was the first to speak, rising to present his views.

“I believe there is much to be gained by working with the citizens of this nation,” he said in a stiff, formal voice. “In my own travels, I have seen that these Humans can range widely in character…but to preemptively remove one without investigating their potential would be to squander the fruits of Ainz-sama’s efforts.”

His response was to be expected, given his benevolent nature. With nothing more to say, he once again took his seat.

“These Humans have bowed, yet they still do not serve. No leniency should be granted to threats from their kind, no matter how insignificant.”

Cocytus’ stern response once again tied the vote. In his own rule, over the region surrounding the Great Lake, he had been forbidden from using fear as a motivator, but it was still a rather straightforward power relationship – his view on the matter was equally so.

All eyes turned to the final Guardian seated in the hall.

“It should be fine to see if she proves useful,” Shalltear’s voice chimed lightly through the chamber, “should it not, de-arinsuka?”

The triumphant smile that was slowly forming on Albedo’s face vanished. She had obviously expected a ruthless response from the most powerful of the Floor Guardians. Seeing her reaction, Shalltear Bloodfallen quickly continued to speak.

“Securing the entire area and its borders barely took our forces a day,” she reasoned. “Beyond that, we’ve basically just been sitting around, arinsu. We should have something to show for our time when Ainz-sama moves again. If this Human is a way to do this, then we should use her.”

“A Human with Truesight is too great of a liability,” Albedo said. “She would pose a risk on so many levels that I don’t even want to consider what she could inadvertently unravel with her ability.”

“Then I shall take personal responsibility for this child,” Shalltear replied. “If she causes any major problems, I can just immediately dispose of her.”

“You?” Albedo responded suspiciously as her eyes narrowed, clearly skeptical of the Vampire’s uncharacteristic interest.

“Yes,” Shalltear confirmed. “Besides, Ainz-sama may still be interested in the unique and strange abilities used by the people of this world. If she is of a strong bloodline, she may be able to perform those ‘Martial Arts’ as well at some point, yes? I believe I was tasked to collect these sorts.”

“...shame.” Albedo’s low voice was barely audible.

“Hm?”

“Have you no shame?” The Demon’s words rose in volume, until they lashed out in accusation, “You, who has not produced any of your own results. Desperately clinging to past duties in some reprehensible, selfish desire to absolve yourself of your own failure!”

The NPCs around the chamber collectively flinched. Though the event in question had occurred many months ago, its fearful spectre still lurked in the dark corners of each one of their thoughts. Shalltear’s fatal blunder had been dealt with personally by Ainz Ooal Gown. Though he had absolved her of guilt and personally held himself accountable, Albedo’s assault had shaken even the most stalwart of those in the room. The word failure struck like the sound of a gavel landing before a soul condemned.

While the others shifted uncomfortably in their seats, Shalltear’s entire profile crumbled – her veil of relaxed composure falling away all at once. Cringing away from the Guardian Overseer’s reprimand, her face became tearful, cheeks flushed; mouth working silently in shock. Her slim, delicate hands rose; making motions as if to touch her face or cradle her head, but she seemed so disgusted with herself that she could not bear to do so.

“I…” her voice choked as she struggled to find the words to defend herself. “I’m–”

Pandora’s Actor held out his palms in a placating gesture as he spoke in a calm voice to intercede on behalf of the Guardian who was wrestling with her own shame and self-loathing.

“Mah – don’t be like this, Albedo,” he said in mollifying tones. “Frustrations have understandably mounted over the lack of progress with the Humans, but again you have my reassurances that Baroness Zahradnik will be of tangible benefit in at least a few areas. She has a character that appears to value duty and order above all else: she will carry out her noble obligations to both land and liege, regardless of who it may be. If we place her safely under Shalltear’s authority, I believe the young noblewoman will be able to serve faithfully even as she adjusts to her new reality.”

He had expectations for additional fruit to be borne out of this arrangement, but kept those thoughts to himself out of fear of altering the momentum of the discussion. There would be the chance to nurture future outcomes at a later point in time; for now he needed to ensure that the current resolution made it out of the door of the council chamber. He messaged Yuri Alpha – whom he had preemptively stationed to be nearby to the young noblewoman after their arrival – to retrieve Baroness Zahradnik.

“Very well then,” Albedo spoke once again; her voice had regained its calm, imperious tone. “If that is what you wish for, then we’ll see just how far you can go with this Human.”

Turning towards Shalltear, who was still drying her tears, the Guardian Overseer spoke down from the raised dais.

“Shalltear Bloodfallen,” she declared, “responsibility for Baroness Zahradnik lies solely with you. Any assistance she requires: be it in regards to resources, labour or advice in her civil duties, rests squarely upon your shoulders. Similarly, any problems that arise from your new charge will reflect equally on you. Pray that she does nothing to bring shame to the name of the Supreme One.”

The Guardian Overseer had probably chosen to wash her hands clean of the entire affair, preferring to withdraw from the discussion rather than pursue the matter and fall into whatever other traps Pandora’s Actor had laid out in advance. Shalltear, cast adrift with her new acquisition, sat deep in thought while biting her thumb. One could almost imagine the steam rising off of her head as she attempted to figure out what to do with the young noblewoman she had yet to even meet.

“We’ve wasted enough time on this,” Albedo had returned entirely to the pristine, unruffled appearance from the beginning of the meeting, “let us proceed on to other matters.”

Birthright: Act 1, Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Gathering the documents that lay scattered in a loose pile before her, Albedo mentally reviewed the events of the day’s meeting. Beyond the matter of Baroness Zahradnik, it had been much the same as the ones that had preceded it. Shalltear, having mostly regained her composure, excused herself from the chamber as soon as the session had run out of topics to cover: effectively adjourning the gathering. With the collected articles arranged to her satisfaction, Albedo lightly tapped the papers on the desk to align them before slipping them into a dark folder and placing them into her inventory. She did not rise to leave; instead watching as the others slowly left the chamber through various means. After Shalltear left through the main doors, Cocytus teleported away with Entoma while Pandora’s Actor and Sebas were discussing something as they left through the service entrance.

Following Momon’s figure with her gaze until he disappeared around the curtain obscuring the side door, she thought back to Pandora’s Actor’s unexpected actions. Not only had Albedo been caught completely unaware, she had been completely defenceless against his motion to create a place for a seemingly problematic Human noblewoman. With how smoothly the entire discourse had gone in his favour, she suspected that he had carefully calculated the trajectory of the discussion long before the subject was even broached. As the one who was created to oversee and manage the Great Tomb of Nazarick, she did not enjoy the fact that matters had been wrested out of her control. In her mind, this was a right reserved for her Master alone.

Previously, her experiences with the Doppelganger had been limited to their brief introduction in the Guild Treasury and a few other interactions. Despite his usually flamboyant and exaggerated character, she held the vague understanding that Momonga-sama’s creation possessed an intellect that rivaled both that of Demiurge and her own, though in what manner she had not been even remotely aware of until now. It was reassuring to have another eminently capable individual to serve with, yet at the same time he would be an implacable thorn in her side should he ever choose to oppose her. Fortunately, she had come to this realization before any attempt to incorporate him into her side project.

He had laid out a compelling case to allow the Baroness’ continued existence and Albedo’s pride as a supremely capable administrator would not allow her to deny any of his observations regarding the state of E-Rantel and its duchy. Shortly after the Baharuth Emperor’s audience in Nazarick and the plans to annex E-Rantel through the seasonal conflict between the two nations had been laid out, Albedo had started her own preparations for the inevitable outcome. Through the weeks leading up to the conflict, she had made a great study of the city and its surrounding lands in order to ensure a seamless transition to Nazarick’s rule. She had even taken it upon herself to requisition and personally train suitable Undead servitors to act as assistants for the initial phases of the takeover.

All of her advance effort had seemingly been for naught, however, as many of the surviving nobles and the officials who served under Lord Rettenmeier had fled to Re-Estize while the formalities of the annexation were still being observed. So complete was their loyalty to the man – who at the time had served as the city’s Mayor and Ramposa’s Provost in the duchy at large – that when he had returned to his own territories in the west, all of his administrative staff in the city had chosen to follow him rather than stay to continue their service in E-Rantel. As loyal vassals of Momonga-sama themselves, the act of solidarity by Rettenmeier and his associates in loyalty to their own liege had earned them the tiniest modicum of respect by the NPCs, but there was no denying the problems they had caused in their wake.

The result was that the Sorcerous Kingdom had inherited a district of hastily abandoned government buildings, destroyed archives and the shattered remains of E-Rantel’s aristocracy. She had predicted that it would take several weeks for the Elder Liches to learn how to adapt their training to these vacant offices, but it turned out that they would not even get a chance to do that: trade had ceased entirely, the remaining nobles were still recovering from their bereavement and it was not even known whether those that were left were capable of running their own fiefs. With no data available, and none being collected and filed to process, no projections could be made and no amendments to laws or new policies could be responsibly enacted; thus the entire administrative framework of the Sorcerous Kingdom had run into an unyielding wall from day one.

Their only saving grace was that the vast stores of E-Rantel, filled with supplies originally meant for the armies of Re-Estize, would serve as a lifeline for the city’s population for several months. However, If regular operations and commerce could not be restored by that point, the citizens would run out of vital supplies. While it was possible to use Dagda’s Cauldron to supplement food to an extent, it did not solve any of the other shortages, and went against the idea that the duchy was supposed to be a productive source of income for Nazarick. It was a small thing to provide some food to a single village or town, like they had done with Carne Village and the consolidated Lizardman tribes, but feeding the hundreds of thousands of Humans remaining in the duchy of E-Rantel was another matter entirely.

One might argue that Pandora’s Actor had made a rather unfair argument in light of the circumstances, but Albedo also knew that his points were irrevocably true. Excuses had no place in Nazarick, and E-Rantel’s continued state of paralysis was absolutely unacceptable. The arrangement orchestrated by the Doppelganger was acceptable for the time being; she would stay apprised of the Baroness’ activities and take advantage of any developments that occurred as a result of them. She did not even care overly much that any of the noble’s accomplishments might be accredited to Shalltear – it was imperative that the Sorcerous Kingdom achieve a semblance of function as quickly as possible.

And if Baroness Zahradnik met with too much success, Albedo could always act to suppress her.

Satisfied that the situation was well in hand, the Guardian Overseer looked up from her thoughts to see that nearly all of the NPCs had vacated the chamber. The sole occupant other than herself was Narberal, still standing along the wall where she had attended the entire council session.

While all of Nazarick’s creations were unified in their purpose to serve the Supreme Beings, the months that had passed in this new world had seen the rise of several ‘factions’ from within its ranks. Rather than any particular agenda, they had formed out of the general attitudes carried by the various denizens of the Great Tomb of Nazarick. There were three main groups: two were led by Albedo and Shalltear, which could be loosely categorized by whether their members saw outsiders as either vermin or food. Those who saw vermin as food, such as Entoma, did not belong to either side. Their members also supported their respective heads in the ongoing bid for Momonga’s attentions.

The final group consisted of those denizens that had a more benevolent outlook towards outsiders. It actually had a fair number of prominent members, though none of them held active roles in the direct leadership of Nazarick. In addition, many of the other NPCs: Demiurge, Cocytus, Aura and Mare, to name a handful, either purposely stayed out of these divisions or remained blithely unaware of them.

The Pleiades – the formation of battle maids who included Yuri Alpha, Narberal Gamma and Entoma Vassilisa Zeta as a part of their number – were divided in their support for each group, but Narberal was firmly in Albedo’s camp. After taking one last look around the empty room, Albedo focused her attention on Narberal.

“Truesight is the nemesis of Doppelgangers,” Albedo’s voice was soft, but still carried clearly across the room to where Narberal stood. “I’m surprised you didn’t dispose of her immediately.”

Narberal’s lips drew into a thin line. Though Albedo had taken a conversational tone with the battle maid, the Doppelganger battle maid bowed in apology before speaking.

“As soon as I found out,” she said, “I attacked with enough force to kill her several times over…but Pandora’s Actor intercepted my spell.”

“Where was this?”

“…in the gardens near the front of the Royal Villa,” Narberal replied. “We had just stepped off the gazebo cordoned off for teleportation when he informed me of her Talent.”

“I see.”

Albedo tapped a finger idly on her desk. Once again, she was made to realize that Pandora’s Actor had already been several steps ahead of her by the time he made his entrance to the council chamber.

Narberal’s appearance as an Adventurer left her reliant on her shapeshifting ability – in combination with the Ring of Non-Detection – to conceal her true nature, so Pandora’s Actor must have immediately perceived the Human’s reaction to the Doppelganger’s inhuman appearance. But rather than informing Narberal, whose single racial level in Doppelganger meant that she had no ability to sense the thoughts of those around her, he had purposely withheld the information while continuing to test Baroness Zahradnik’s character and discern her value to the Sorcerous Kingdom.

It was only after they had arrived in the central courtyard of E-Rantel that her Talent was disclosed to Narberal, who had in turn reacted appropriately to end the threat. By standing in defence of the Baroness, Pandora’s Actor had demonstrated to her the dangers of revealing her ability, wordlessly declared to anyone that might be watching that she was under his protection and reminded the denizens of Nazarick that potential threats could still be lurking right under their noses, reinforcing their vigilance.

The fact that he had done so without even waiting for the outcome of the council meeting was particularly irksome: it suggested that he had plotted out the course of events and that the result was inevitable. His scheme was annoyingly well-crafted – perhaps he had acted on some secret impetus from their Master.

Albedo sighed; there was no use in wasting energy thinking about it. Instead, she inquired further as to the Baroness’ circumstances.

“Human aristocrats do not exist without people to lord over,” she said. “Was anyone else present to witness this…episode in her territory?”

Narberal shook her head in response.

“She was alone in her home when we arrived,” she replied. “The village and surroundings were empty. The Baroness informed us that the commoners had fled south to the Slane Theocracy upon hearing about the rout at Katze Plains, abandoning their liege.”

The maid’s lips thinned in disgust as the last of the words left her mouth. Albedo blinked as the words registered in her head. They had abandoned their master? The reprehensible thought caused bile to rise in her throat.

Stepping out from behind her desk, Albedo made her way down to the central area of the council chamber, where the large oak table filled most of the floor. A giant map of the lands surrounding E-Rantel, far superior to those which they had procured from the remains of the city archive, was spread out over most of its surface. Albedo circled around it until she stood over the southwestern corner, tracing her fingers from where Warden’s Vale lay, through the wilderness and over the border of the Theocracy along the fastest probable route.

Nearly half of the population of Humans amongst the rural population of the Duchy of E-Rantel had fled after news of their Kingdom’s catastrophic defeat at Katze; waves of fear and panic swept across the lands, often emptying rural communities wholesale. Since the people had mostly fled west to Re-Estize, Nazarick’s hands had been tied as their Master’s orders forbade them from applying forceful methods to the regions held by neighboring nations. Deploying Momon to try and curb the massive outflow of refugees had been their most effective course of action, but even as he sped from village to village to assuage the fears of the citizens, more had slipped across the border like so many grains of sand through their fingers.

Fleeing south, however, was a different story entirely. The eastern extremes of the Abelion Wilderness occupied the space between the southwestern border of the Sorcerous Kingdom and the northern border of the Slane Theocracy. The wildlands were unclaimed by any nation, with next to no development and occupied only by small pockets of Demihuman tribes. A simple calculation led to the conclusion that a refugee caravan filled with Humans of all ages could not possibly have crossed the wilderness yet – even if they had started their journey shortly after receiving news of the Kingdom’s defeat.

“There is no forgiveness for betrayal,” Albedo’s icy decree required no interpretation.

With a sharp affirmative and a respectful bow, Narberal Gamma strode to the main exit of the council chamber, the sound of her armoured heels echoing in grim cadence.

The pristine smile returned to Albedo’s lips: perhaps there was some satisfaction to be had at the end of this, after all.

Birthright: Act 1, Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Bohdan shivered as the cold northern winds buffeted the procession of villagers making their way across the wilderness. It was eight hours since they had broken camp, with the caravan finally finding a suitable ford to cross the river’s rushing waters a few days previous. All things considered, their journey was progressing well. The supplies organized by Baroness Zahradnik had even accounted for possible delays in their journey, so the people were well provisioned, well fed and in high spirits despite the situation that drove them forward.

They were now scaling the main pass that rose out of the upper reaches, which would lead back down into the lands of the Slane Theocracy on the other side. The last snows of winter had left a white blanket over the higher elevations of the surrounding peaks – even halfway up the pass, a crust of unmelted ice still caked the ground. A few of the village’s Rangers were blazing the trail up ahead, but the going was now much slower than when they had been following the river along the floor of the basin.

The old Cleric paused at the side of the newly recleared trail, leaning against a boulder to catch his breath. Though his newfound purpose had filled him with the will to see this duty through, his elderly frame complained with every step of the ascent. He raised his free hand and smiled warmly to the families passing him who – reassured by the priest they had known for all their lives – smiled and waved in return as they continued to trudge resolutely up the slope.

Looking down to the northwest, there were still a dozen families following behind. On the horizon, the afternoon sun had dipped to the edge of the opposite side of the valley, bathing the hillside in its fiery light as it fought to melt away the stubborn remnants of winter. Camp would need to be made before the summit of the pass and the transit would continue the next day. It would be a cold night, but nothing beyond the tolerance of the resilient villagers.

With the border perhaps not two or three nights away, he had been mentally reviewing what he remembered of his youth in the Theocracy. The customs and behaviours of his homeland seemed a lifetime ago, and he supposed that it was. He had lived for close to a century as the missionary to Warden’s Vale, and he felt far more a frontiersman than the young man of his hazy memories: born and raised in the distant cities to the south.

Lorel Dale Reis. I am Lorel Dale Reis.

Even the recollection of his own name seemed foreign. Bohdan was a name he had adopted to help him fit in with the hardy pioneers of the Re-Estize’s frontier; the name he had used for the vast majority of his life. Though it would be difficult to become accustomed to his birth name again, he needed every advantage he could obtain to find a new place for the villagers-turned-refugees.

He supposed that most would be able to find work easily as sentries for towns and villages – frontier folk were quite well-trained when it came to being able to fight and survive in the wilds of the borderlands. Though they considered themselves humble farmers and woodsmen, they were distinct from the common folk of the more peaceful inland territories. By the age of thirty, their time patrolling the frontier and experience in dealing with minor incursions of bandits, Demihumans and monsters would make them superior to hardened members of the average city militia. It was also due to this robust lifestyle that they weathered the yearly confrontation with the Empire far better than the inexperienced levies of other nobles, developing a notable martial identity in the eyes of the other commoners of the Kingdom that stood beside them.

As his thoughts wandered, he eventually realized that he had rested for too long and the last few families were about to catch up. Gripping the staff that he had brought along with him from the village, he pulled himself back up. After dusting off the scapular draped over his priestly robes, he stepped back onto the path. He paused to take one more look down the trail for stragglers…and froze.

Bohdan thought he saw something pass in front of the setting sun. He shielded his vision against the glare, trying to decide what it was. In his advanced age, he prided himself on his exceptional sense of eyesight, which had not faded in the slightest over the years. Continuing to peer to the west, he tried to spot whatever had caught his attention.

As he looked to the horizon, a flash of incandescent blue light exploded on the trail not fifty metres below him; the crackle of electricity caused him to duck instinctively. Crouched on the ground, he saw a dark figure skim over the treetops like a swallow darting through the skies. His gaze followed after it: the figure reached the head of the column roughly two hundred metres ahead, dropping another scintillating sphere of electricity into the midst of those at the front of the group.

Caught unawares, the villagers had no time to react, nor to scream as they were struck down from above. Before cries of alarm from those that witnessed what had occurred were raised, the flying assailant disappeared over the treetops without a sound. With chaos rising from behind and in front, the procession ground to a halt. A few of the villagers readied their bows, understanding they were being attacked, but they were unable to locate the caster that had ambushed them from the sky. Others rushed forward to see what they could do for those that had been bombarded by the spheres of lightning.

A moan not three metres away jarred Bohdan from his stunned silence. Looking down, he saw a woman horribly burned by electricity from the first explosion, but still barely alive. Crawling forward on all fours, he laid his hands on her and cast a spell.

“「Middle Cure Wounds」!”

Divine power flowed through his touch, glowing softly as it mended the heavy injuries that the woman had suffered. He considered how many had been hit by the first two attacks, coming to the grim realization that he did not have enough mana to heal everyone. Scanning the path and its trail of charred and steaming corpses, he scuttled from body to body, trying to reach anyone he could save before they succumbed from their injuries.

A fresh cry of alarm from the head of the trail stole away his attention.

“There! Southwest: up the trail!”

“「Lightning」.”

The voice of a woman echoed off the mountainside, followed by a crackling bolt which arced down and surged through the hapless villagers. In the midst of reacting to the opening assault, they were still arranged single and double file following the trail and the spell cut them down mercilessly. Without even pausing to survey her handiwork, the unknown caster flew off again, gaining altitude before once again vanishing over the treetops. Several villagers that had not been in the line of fire released arrows at the retreating figure from their longbows, but the missiles fell woefully short of their target.

As the survivors restlessly scanned the skies overhead, Bohdan scrambled forward, shouting to gain the attention of the others.

“We can’t stay on the trail! Get into the trees! Find cover!”

The remaining villagers began to duck into the thickly forested slope alongside the trail, but the caster once again appeared over the treeline. Bohdan saw an arm stretch out, pointing at one of the villagers that was still running off the trail after the others.

“「Maximize Magic – Chain Dragon Lightning」!”

A tremendous bolt of lightning – as thick as a tree trunk – lanced out from the caster’s hand and struck the fleeing villager. The poor man was instantly reduced to ash, but the spell did not stop there. The arc of electricity coursed around the trees, leaping from target to target as the villagers’ attempts to hide were proven to be in utter vain. An eerie silence rose from where there had been panicked rustling in the undergrowth seconds before.

Bohdan scrambled around throughout the attack trying to find survivors to heal, but every time their attacker reappeared, the overwhelming force of the spells leveled against them created even more casualties. Most of the villagers now lay dead, strewn over the trail. He would follow the cries of the few injured that somehow survived the devastating assaults, but every time he reached one villager and healed them, a dozen others would die. His continuous healing drained away his mana at an unsustainable rate, yet he doggedly continued to try to save who he could. However, at the last spell that their attacker had cast, he stopped.

Up until this point, he had at least recognized the spells being wielded as arcane magic of the third tier: Fly, Electrosphere, Lightning. This last one, however, he had never even heard of in over the century of his life. He could even identify fifth tier spells – just how powerful was this spellcaster? For what reason had this individual, who was surely as formidable as the legends of old, come out into the middle of the wilderness to sow such senseless devastation upon a caravan of civilian refugees?

As his soul screamed out at the injustice, the dark figure once again appeared over the trail. This time, she came to a stop roughly near the middle of the trail of carnage and Bohdan finally got a closer look at her. She was dressed in what looked to be a maid uniform, save for several sections of armour that overlaid various parts of her outfit. Black hair trailed in a flowing ponytail behind her as she surveyed the suffering she had wrought.

Standing out in the open on the trail, Bohdan leaned on his staff, wondering why he had not yet been struck down – surely she had noticed him scurrying below trying to heal the injured. She abruptly rose further in the air, and the sudden movement caused something to stir below her. Bohdan looked to the forest floor directly beneath the caster flying overhead and realized what was there.

After the first few attacks landed, the villagers had rearranged themselves the same way they would have during a raid on their homes – those capable of fighting fanning out defensively around those who could not. In the middle of the trail, the youngest had gathered at the safest spot in their formation. When Bohdan shouted out to escape into the forest, they had moved as well. From the copse of trees that the caster was now floating over, Sophia's distraught face looked out at him – she had gathered the children to hide in a portion of thick undergrowth.

A look of abject horror crept onto Bohdan’s face as he looked back up to the caster in the maid uniform. This time, she was looking back directly at him, lips parted in a malevolent smile. There was no doubt in his mind that she knew what lay below her.

No!

The old Cleric’s feet drove him forward of their own volition.

“No…” His shaky, tired voice called up hoarsely.

The maid continued her slow ascent, spreading her arms wide.

“No! No, no, no, no, NO! Oh gods, please NO!!!”

Bohdan cried out desperately from the depths of his heart, but she remained indifferent to his pleas.

An arrow shot up through the undergrowth, bouncing harmlessly off of her armoured skirts. The remaining villagers hiding in the trees had also heard Bohdan’s hoarse shouting; soon picking up on the source of the Cleric’s distress. Several more arrows came up through the trees, pelting the maid with no more effect than the first. Others shouted defiantly, trying to distract her from the helpless children below.

To each, she answered with a bolt of electricity: tracking every voice; every arrow back to its owner and frying them where they stood. After several moments of ghastly silence, she seemed satisfied that her ploy had revealed all of the remaining villagers and held out her hand, palm facing upwards.

“「Maximize Magic - Electrosphere」.”

The terrible orb of electricity once again formed over her hand. Slowly turning her palm over, she let her spell fall to the ground below.

Heartbroken, Bohdan fell to his knees and turned his head away, unable to bear witness to the result…but no matter where he turned to look, the bodies of his congregation lay sprawled in death. The acrid odor of charred meat and ashes filled the air. He felt tears flowing freely down his weathered cheeks, but he lacked the will or strength to sob.

A shadow crossed over him, and Bohdan looked up weakly. The caster had finally landed; before him stood the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes upon. The impression was lost on him, though – after so much death and devastation, he had become numb to such things. In the cold beauty and sharp expression that many would surely stir the hearts of many to awe and admiration, he only saw a heartless killer with a ruthlessly callous glint in her eyes.

As she took a step towards the Cleric, a woman suddenly burst out of the bushes behind her; long dagger in hand. She had appeared at a run, launching herself forward in a rage over their attacker’s senseless cruelty. Her furious shout rose as she closed with the target of her vengeance. Bohdan’s breath caught in his throat, daring to hope – arcane casters often had poor close combat ability, foregoing martial training for magical study.

The maid, however, showed no sign of surprise: calmly sidestepping the woman’s charge and kicking her feet out from under her as she hurtled by. The villager stumbled and fell forward with a grunt at Bohdan’s feet, blade flying from her hands. As she attempted to recover, the maid’s armoured heel pressed into her back, forcing her into the ground again. Bohdan knew the woman – a seasoned Ranger in her prime – but she was struggling with all her might to rise to no avail.

With a smooth, practiced motion, the maid raised her hand and a long, bladed staff materialized in her grasp. She swiftly jabbed down into the back of the woman’s neck, blade severing her spine and appearing out of her throat. The struggling ceased, replaced by a feeble, gurgling noise as the Ranger lay powerless on the rocky trail. With her would-be ambusher neutralized, the maid turned her attention back to Bohdan.

Coming to a stop before him, she reached out with an armoured gauntlet to grasp his shoulder. Mana spent; spirit shattered, Bohdan remained on his knees, unable to act upon his grief.

The maid opened her mouth to cast a spell.

My Lord, I am so sorry…

Bohdan reached out in mournful remorse to the spirit of the Frontier Noble that had seized his imagination and crystalized his conviction, a distant lifetime ago.

“「Maximize Magic – Shocking Grasp」.”

Tendrils of writhing electricity coursed down the caster’s arm, through her grip and into the defeated Cleric. His body jolted at the shock, and started to steam. Withered flesh began to char at the extremities, rolling up his legs and arms. The burns rapidly reached his torso; the portion of his shoulder held up by the woman broke away. The rest of his body collapsed to the ground in a pile of charcoal and ash.

In the stillness that followed only the cold northern winds continued to blow, sweeping over the caravan of charred corpses. Narberal Gamma closed her first and the remains of Bohdan’s shoulder crumbled, filtering through her fingers into the air. Her gaze turned up the pass to follow the ashes as the wind carried them up and over the ridge and into the lands beyond.

“Your gods mean nothing to me, insect.”

Character Dossier: Lorel Dale Reis

Lorel Dale Reis, or Bohdan – as he was known locally to the inhabitants of Warden’s Vale – was born in the southern cities of the Slane Theocracy 119 years before the founding of the Sorcerous Kingdom. The second son of a common warehouse clerk and a seamstress, he was brought up in a meagre household, destined to follow in his father’s footsteps as an apprentice.

His fate was changed when a shift occurred in the policies of the Slane Theocracy as its leadership began preparations for the next wave of Players: directing their various institutions to expand recruitment, education and training. Bohdan was swept up as his generation was readied for what may have come. Joining the ranks of the priesthood as an Acolyte, Lorel experienced a curriculum that not only included the Theocracy’s stringent training, but also studied events related to Player waves – notably those of the Eight Greed Kings, the Thirteen Heroes and the Six Great Gods of the Slane Theocracy. The vast majority of this generation never realized what they were being prepared for.

Though his tenure as an Acolyte was meant to gird him for those coming times, he ultimately found his calling elsewhere. To the north, the call of a burgeoning Human civilization pulled the young Lorel away from his homeland to answer the growing need for priests and missionaries to both aid the growth of Human realms and spread the faith of the Six Great Gods. At the age of 18, in his search for a place to serve humanity, he encountered Andrei Zahradnik. The intrepid Ranger captured both his admiration and respect, and Lorel would settle in Warden’s Vale, serving the Barony faithfully as its priest for four generations.

After receiving news of the Re-Estize's defeat at the Battle of Katze Plains, Bohdan headed the flight of the residents of Warden’s Vale, meaning to lead them to the safety of the Slane Theocracy. He, along with those who followed him, vanished some time later in the wilderness while en route to their destination.

Birthright: Act 2, Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Ludmila’s anxiety mounted as she was led out of the clubhouse and over the swept garden lanes towards the Royal Villa. The waning light of the evening cast a fiery orange glow onto their surroundings as the shadows of the district lengthened over the pristine grounds surrounding the palatial building. Her guide continued to maintain her perfect posture even as she moved ahead: back was held straight and hands arranged primly in front of her. The maid’s hips did not sway, nor did her head bob as her measured gait carried her forward. Even her light adornment – a simple azure bow with a matching sash fixed into a cummerbund – did not infringe upon the image that she projected: that of a perfect and proper attendant.

Though she lived in the rough and wild borderlands of the frontier and knew little beyond basic aristocratic conduct, the maid’s composure was such that Ludmila felt compelled to emulate the elements of her own form to match. As she did so, it invariably drew other comparisons between the maid and herself, which in turn fed into her growing anxiety. In figure and form; in grace and manner, Ludmila seemed to fall conspicuously short on every front. She knew that the royal family of Re-Estize practiced a custom which employed young, unmarried noblewomen from prominent families as maids in Valentia Palace, but she imagined that the woman gliding across the cobblestones before her would easily overshadow any of them.

It was said that the dignity and skill of a retainer reflected upon that of their master, both on the battlefield and in the court. If such an attendant served the Sorcerer King or even one of his vassals – no, especially if they did – then from what impossible heights of majesty did the Sorcerer King reign? She started to become lightheaded as her sense of self continued to shrink, and after they passed into the entrance of the Royal Villa, she finally felt the need to speak out.

“Hold–please, wait!”

The maid responded immediately, slowing as she made a seamless turn to face her. Even this simple action seemed almost too graceful to be possible.

This isn’t fair! Ludmila cried out despairingly in her mind. She felt unbelievably rustic in the face of her conduct.

For a moment, the maid examined her with an unreadable expression before smoothly spreading her skirts in a deep curtsey.

“This one goes by the name of Yuri Alpha,” her calm, mellow voice floated up in reply, “my most sincere apologies for not introducing myself earlier, Baroness Zahradnik.”

Yuri Alpha rose with a warm smile.

“How may I be of service?”

That the maid had misinterpreted her mixed expression put a slight crack in her perfect image, but Ludmila’s distraught sensibilities lingered.

“I cannot present myself to the Sorcerer King,” she said.

The taller woman coolly arched an eyebrow.

“Do you mean to say that you are refusing the summons of the Royal Court?”

Ludmila’s mouth fell open for a moment before she attempted to explain herself.

“I mean to say that I am not in a presentable state,” she said. “The clothes I am wearing are meant for travel on the open roads, my boots are soiled – I need some time to fix my improper appearance.”

She had covered quite some distance as she travelled with Momon, and she wasn’t about to present herself to her King in a dusty kirtle and muddy boots. Her hair had been under her scarf for hours and she didn’t even want to know what it had turned into along the way. Her mind went back to Countess Jezne and her reprimand – indeed, she had been the only noble in the room dressed in such a way; clearly unready to attend to official business.

Her bags had been taken away from the front desk of the clubhouse by a pair of maids that were instructed to deliver them to her accommodations, so she wasn’t sure where they had disappeared to. Once again, she had been swept along by events and left in a confused and miserable state.

“His Majesty is currently attending to business elsewhere,” said Yuri Alpha. “It is the King’s Council that will receive you on his behalf.”

The information was surprising, but Ludmila still dug in with the little bit of pride she had left.

“As they are acting on his behalf, then I must still conduct myself in the appropriate manner. I will not dishonour House Zahradnik by showing such disrespect to my new sovereign.”

Yuri Alpha remained silent, as if to weigh her words. A hand came up as she lightly adjusted the rims of her spectacles. As they shifted, Ludmila realized that there was no reflection of the light coming from the entrance to the Villa – the maid’s eyewear had no lenses.

“Very well,” Yuri Alpha said, “but as your presence was requested as soon as reasonable, we cannot spare more than a few minutes to ensure there is nothing untoward.”

It did not take long to find a well-furnished drawing room where Ludmila located a mirrored cabinet placed along a wall while Yuri Alpha drew open the drapes. She gingerly removed her scarf, but discovered to her relief that her hair had not become an entirely unruly mess after hours of travel. As she started to slowly comb her fingers through it, a small brush appeared over her shoulder – Yuri Alpha had come to stand behind her.

Ludmila received the comb with an expression of gratitude and started to brush her hair as Yuri Alpha worked to remove the bits of her journey that had stuck to her outfit. They worked in silence until Yuri Alpha rose, which prompted Ludmila to return the brush. Checking over herself one last time in the mirror, she felt like she was about to go fetch water from the river rather than attending an official audience with the King. The moist green odours from the woodland trails still clung to her – hopefully she wouldn’t be standing too close to anyone…

They returned to the hallway and resumed walking to the council chamber deep within the villa, and Ludmila looked to the grand friezes that lined the walls while she pondered how she should present herself. While the Zahradnik Barony was an independent fief under the Duchy of E-Rantel, Lord Rettenmeier had governed as Royal Provost while holding his position as Mayor of the city. He had a personality that belied his corpulent appearance, and the descriptions of his interactions with Baron Zahradnik – who shared the same straightforward and pragmatic personality – had spoken nothing of the pomp and circumstance that befitted a meeting with a sovereign.

Ludmila sighed as she faced forward again. They turned the final corner leading to the audience chamber, and Yuri Alpha led her to a row of seats placed along the wall opposite to the massive Ironwood doors that marked the entrance to their destination.

“Please have a seat, Baroness Zahradnik,” Yuri Alpha turned briefly to speak to her, “I shall enter and inform the Council of your arrival.”

Ludmila nodded in understanding, then settled herself on the nearest chair. The entire row seemed to be made up of the same low-backed hardwood stools with equally hard wooden seats – it was as if someone was saying don’t get too comfortable to those that waited on their appointments. Having been either on her feet or riding for most of the day, however, the opportunity to rest was welcome.

Yuri Alpha closed the council chamber door behind her, and Ludmila looked down the hall both ways before stretching, trying to relieve the tension that had wound up both her mind and body. As she did so, an unfamiliar woman’s voice could be heard in muffled tones through the door. It seemed to be the only voice coming through the door, actually. It droned on for several minutes before pausing, picking up again after a short silence, repeating the cycle over and over again. She imagined this is what she herself might sound like when she relayed instructions, outlined numbers and made recommendations in Warden’s Vale – even her own family looked for ways to escape after being subjected to too much of it at once. Unlike her family, however, she did not think any of the King’s Councilors would come bursting out into the hall in a desperate attempt to flee.

After what she thought must have been at least forty minutes, the woman’s voice stopped entirely after slowly losing its momentum over time. Ludmila rose from her seat and stepped nearer to the doors, anticipating her summons. She stood by patiently, ears straining for the approach of someone inside to come out and announce her entrance. The first sound she heard, however, was the rustle of cloth and the sound of vague movement, followed by a lilting, feminine voice that chimed from within.

“Well, if that’s all there is, I suppose I should find this Baroness Zahradnik.”

After a short pause, Ludmila heard the light tapping of heels slowly approaching the doorway at a deliberate and measured pace. The heavy ironwood doors silently swung inwards to allow a figure to drift out of the chamber and into the hall. Ludmila quickly checked her posture and made ready her greeting but was spared barely a glance; bright, crimson eyes briefly flashing over her from behind an exquisitely crafted fan. The figure turned without missing a step, the hem of her black gown swaying lightly over the polished marble floor as she made her way down the hallway.

Ludmila stood, mouth agape, her greeting left unspoken as she was passed by in a flash without a single word. She barely turned her head to observe the woman who had passed her when a wave of murderous ire billowed out from the still-open door. Terror froze her in place until her instincts compelled her legs to send her scurrying down the hall. She dared not turn her head to look into the room as she darted by, instead following after the woman who had long since disappeared around the corner that led out to the main hallway of the building.

It was only after the exit of the Royal Villa came into view that Ludmila slowed, struggling to control her panicked breathing. Amidst the wild pounding of her heart, she looked toward where the woman had continued forward – she had paid no mind to Ludmila’s flight down the hallway. Through the clear crystal of the inner doors, she spotted her standing in the vestibule of the building. Two other women had appeared from somewhere to stand beside her. Their sensuous curves were silhouetted by the light of the evening beyond the entrance, ivory figures draped in alabaster cloth.

One stepped forward to open the door as the fan in the first woman’s hand snapped shut and disappeared into her sleeve. At the end of the motion, the handle of a parasol appeared over her wrist. Ludmila blinked; the accessory had mysteriously appeared out of thin air without so much as a word or gesture, causing her to wonder if she had lapsed from fatigue after her long journey. The remaining attendant paid no mind to this unexplained phenomena, however: bending at the waist with her arms held out before her. Ignoring the offer of assistance, her mistress left the vestibule, opening her parasol with a smooth motion and bringing it to rest over her right shoulder before proceeding down the lane through the villa gardens.

The door whispered softly to a close as the two attendants assumed their places, following behind on either side of their mistress. Ludmila stepped forward to place her hands on the handles of the inner doors, then stopped. As her thoughts freed themselves of the haze of terror, she realized that while events had brought her to this point, she had no idea what she was to do now. The session of the Royal Court had apparently ended, but she was never brought in to present herself. No one had come to retrieve her, and the person that seemed to be looking for her had just walked away without a word. Was she to remain in the Royal Villa until whatever business she was brought in for was concluded? Should she continue following after the lady who had just left? Feeling completely lost, she wished Yuri Alpha or Momon would appear to explain what was going on to her.

“I suppose if woodlice become overly large, they cannot creep under doors.”

Just as she thought to look for Momon, cold and scornful words prodded her from behind.

She turned with a start, finding that Nabe had at some point come into the hallway behind her. She stepped towards the vestibule where Ludmila stood with her right hand still grasping the door, coming to a stop behind her. Long accustomed to her inhuman appearance, Ludmila removed her hand from the door and faced the Adamantite Adventurer. Empty eyes looked upon her from a featureless face, but the beautiful visage superimposed over it wore an expression that mirrored the tone of the words that came before. It occurred to her that this was the first time that Nabe had spoken to her directly, but her desire to clear her own confusion spared her no time to ponder how she had been addressed.

“Momon, where–”

Ludmila started to ask after Nabe’s partner, but was cut off abruptly.

“Momon has left to attend to business elsewhere,” Nabe said. “There is no reason for you to linger here.”

A finger tapped impatiently on the Adventurer’s hip. Nabe looked at her expectantly, as if she might conveniently vanish at the end of her sentence.

“What about the summons?” Ludmila asked, “The court seemed like it was adjourning…am I to follow the lady that just left, then? It sounded like she was looking for me…”

She still did not understand what was going on, so her words simply spilled out in the direction of the Adventurer as she asked weakly for guidance. Nabe succinctly provided an answer; the disinclined tone made it seem more like she was simply trying to get her out of the way.

“Lady Shalltear has claimed you in accordance to orders she has previously received from the Sorcerer King,” she said. “You are now hers – the Guardian Overseer has left your matters in Lady Shalltear’s hands.”

“Lady Shalltear? The King?”

Ludmila felt that the answer left even more questions, but as she parroted the Adventurer’s words, the tapping finger stopped and Nabe’s cold gaze turned into a glare.

“Woodlice should not be blocking doorways. Move.”

Nabe’s tone did not change, but Ludmila had the feeling that she would be swept out of the villa entrance like some unwelcome insect if she stayed to continue her queries. She turned and opened the doorway, stepping out into the evening air. The sun had crossed below the inner walls of E-Rantel, and the tall lamps of the central district now cast their light over the empty streets. As she walked through the gardens and down the path that led out of the front of the Royal Villa, the clink of metal on stone sounded from behind.

Ludmila turned her head to glance over her shoulder, and saw that Nabe was following behind. Passing under another lamp, the glint of light over some polished surface drew her attention to the fact that Nabe was not in the travelling garments that she had seen the Adventurer in earlier in the day. Nabe was dressed in a pitch black dress with some white frills lining its hems, but its many plated segments denied the notion that she might be simply going out to enjoy some part of the city. Ludmila had never seen an mage equipped in such armour before, but she had no doubts that the Adventurer was equipped for combat.

“Your armour…did something happen?” Ludmila attempted to start a conversation with the Adventurer.

To her surprise, Nabe responded.

“The Guardian Overseer has requested that I deal with an issue in the southwest.”

Ludmila’s pace slowed somewhat as she thought on Nabe’s words. Did she mean out on the frontier? From what she saw, the way back from Warden’s Vale had very little in the way of anything that suggested internal threats like bandits or roaming monsters. She raised her head from her thoughts as the Adventurer walked past her.

“If it’s something on the border…” Ludmila said, “is there anything I can do to aid you? I know the lay of the land around my barony fairly well, as well as the surrounding areas. If there’s some information you would like–”

“Lady Albedo has provided me with everything I require,” Nabe curtly cut her off.

Veering to the right, the Adventurer stepped onto the path leading to the gazebo where they had arrived earlier in the evening.

Ludmila stopped to watch as the mage stepped onto the raised floor of the structure. With Warden’s Vale abandoned, any incursion from the frontier would be met with no resistance, and Adamantite Adventurers were beyond the means of her family to hire. She could do little to repay the favour granted by Lady Albedo – the Guardian Overseer? – but, in her current situation, she could at least express her gratitude.

“Thank you for your assistance,” Ludmila bowed her head slightly in Nabe’s direction as the mage made preparations to depart.

Nabe turned to look back at her with a strange expression on her human visage. Several seconds passed before her face relaxed a bit.

“Lady Shalltear is not one to be kept waiting,” the Adventurer told her. “It is inadvisable to court her displeasure.”

With the parting word of caution, Nabe whispered a spell and vanished.

Birthright: Act 2, Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Left alone with her thoughts in the empty garden, Ludmila scanned the surrounding district. Though not much time had passed, she could not spot the figure of Lady Shalltear or her attendants anywhere. With little to achieve by standing around, she searched through the areas nearest to the main street, her head turning back and forth as she walked. Eventually, she stood in front of an imposing gatehouse that marked where the main promenade led south into the rest of the city and, with a tired sigh, she stepped across its threshold to take a look beyond the wall.

The layout of E-Rantel was suited to its nature as a fortress city. Though protected by three massive curtain walls, the arrangement of the streets was such that any invaders that did make it into the walls encountered a somewhat confusing urban labyrinth. There were no strongholds that were designed to resist hostile forces in each section following a breach, but there were also no clear and direct paths to anywhere important. Even the main thoroughfares followed winding routes through the buildings of the city on their way to the next set of gates. The nature of certain industrial areas within the main section of the city could be identified by sight and smell, but there were no clear written markings or directions to assist outsiders with navigation within or between the various parts of the city. To those unfamiliar with its ways, most of the city’s layout would appear a random mix of shophouses, apartments, inns, warehouses and all manner of institutions such as temples, guilds and artistic venues.

Outsiders themselves, her family would hire a wagon that would take them to the various warehouses where they would sell their goods to wholesalers, who would in turn make their living by reselling their inventory as the markets demanded. She recalled her younger self staring out from their hard seats as they wound their way through the veritable maze of streets, buildings and plazas. Even now, as her gaze followed the main road down the slope from the gate, she was under no illusion that she wouldn’t quickly become lost the further she went from the Central District’s entrance.

Lady Shalltear and her attendants should have stood distinct from any of the city folk, so she had thought to inquire after their passing with any citizens she could find nearby. However, it turned out that the streets beyond the inner walls were just as empty as those within them. Streetlamps, less ornate than those in the Central District, shone with the same intensity nonetheless: brightening the empty thoroughfares of the city which lay in still and eerie silence. E-Rantel was a major trading hub as well as a staging ground for mercenaries and Adventurers that worked jobs maintaining the nearby Katze Plains, providing escort to merchants and keeping the highways and roads of the surrounding countryside clear of threats. Even with the sudden and unexpected annexation, this work did not conveniently wait for anyone and the city should have at least had a certain amount of life in the streets. It was an odd sight that she would have normally given more thought towards, had her own business not been so pressing.

“Where could Lady Shalltear have gone?”

Frustration caused her to finally voice her thoughts aloud into the evening air. Without any leads to go by, she decided to turn back and see if there was any way that the administrative offices in the central district could help her locate the mysterious woman.

The groan of metal coming from the direction of the gate caused her to slow mid-turn. Where the gate behind her should have come into her field of view, instead was a murky reflection of herself looking back at her. She faced a wall of dark, polished metal twice her size, gleaming in the twilight.

The sound continued as the wall of metal shifted slightly. A movement out of the corner of her eye caught her attention – an arm covered in vambraces of similar material, draped in a tattered sleeve, was stretched out from behind what she now realized was a massive tower shield. The arm ended in a wicked gauntlet curled into a fist, and a single clawed finger protruded from it. As her gaze followed down the arm and eventually in the direction indicated by the finger, she realized that it was probably the answer to the question she had voiced to no one in particular.

From her vantage below, she could only see the crest of a shining helm behind the top of the tower shield. The tall guard made no further moves and the cloak of its purple robe fluttered in the evening breeze, making a sound similar to that of a large banner. After standing awkwardly for a moment, Ludmila silently nodded her head in towards the shield in thanks before heading in the direction indicated.

Assuming a brisk pace, it wasn’t long before she spotted Lady Shalltear’s dark parasol. The pale figures of her attendants could be seen still flanking her as she strolled off casually barely two blocks ahead. It turned out that she had actually not gone far at all, but the erratic layout of E-Rantel was simply obscuring her line of sight. Breathing a sigh of relief, she slowed her pace and mulled over how to present herself and the issues that faced her family’s demesne.

As she calmed down and ordered her thoughts, the monumental task that lay before Ludmila formed a growing list of problems in her head. She maintained a vague sense of Lady Shalltear a few dozen paces out in front of her, but for the most part she had focused herself inwards in order to sort everything out.

The most pressing issue was that Warden’s Vale currently had a population of one: herself. Without labour, there would be no production, no revenues; stagnancy and decay would soon follow. The normal means by which rural territories secured immigrants – through petitioning the city administration or checking with the temples for hopeful settlers, refugees and the homeless – would not work for frontier fiefs. One could not simply be a Farmer or any other singular civilian profession: if the population was not accustomed to life bordering the wilderness and incapable of holding their own against the threats that lay around them, they would not survive for very long. The weak would simply become food for predators, and becoming known as a place to find easy meals only invited more unwanted guests.

Though the Sorcerous Kingdom – according to Countess Jezne – had a standing army, Ludmila was not certain if they possessed the ability to uphold the borders and maintain constant readiness against potential attacks from the wilderness. All it would take was an hour or two and the entire village could be ransacked by a tribe of Demihumans if it lacked ready defenders. Warden’s Vale had established itself as an entrenched Human territory in the eyes of their savage neighbors, but there only needed to be a curious scout or a desperate hunter to find that the village was now open to invasion. The thought did not sit well with her at all, especially considering that Nabe had already departed to deal with some sort of issue in the area, and it was something she wanted to remedy as quickly as possible.

The other problems revolved around logistics, such as building a new vessel to transport the village’s goods and refurbishing old infrastructure, as well as making sure all of her legal affairs were in order. She also needed to ensure that her understanding of the law was still in line with that of the new administration’s. In addition, she needed to figure out where her village’s goods disappeared to and hire a wagon to transport and sell them…but all these things would not avail her any if she did not resolve the first problem.

The only recourse that came immediately to Ludmila’s mind was the courtier that she had ultimately followed after. Her proud bearing and lavish attire gave off the air of one accustomed to high society and, according to Nabe, she had a connection to the Sorcerer King. Ludmila was not sure if she was actually a noble, but at the least she had risen to a position where her value warranted her attendance in the Royal Court. If she was a powerful noble, the resources she might be willing to bring to bear would make all of Ludmila’s worries seem needless in the end.

Resolving herself, Ludmila picked up her pace to catch up with the small procession ahead. Her lonely shadows projecting onto the buildings lining the street made her keenly aware of how much the city had changed from her past memories. The wooden-framed structures with their walls of wattle and daub were sometimes five or six stories tall and even a small city block could house several times the population of her entire fief. This normally meant that street life should be boisterous as labourers parted with their wages in the evening, so the contrast with the reality she was currently experiencing created a dissonant sensation.

Every door was shut; every window shuttered. The occasional wisps of smoke she could see rising from chimneys indicated that they were indeed occupied, and that the residents were burning fuel to keep warm in the chill of early spring. She could not make much sense of it. Ludmila understood that the events of Katze were certainly terrifying, but E-Rantel itself did not look like it had been damaged. The streets were unnaturally clean and there was no sign of any looting or arson that one might think would come hand in hand with a violent siege and occupation. For all of its changes, the city still needed to run. Food, fuel and rent would need to be paid for somehow, and the various organizations and businesses in the city still needed to operate to keep trade and production flowing.

As she advanced, she saw that Lady Shalltear and her attendants had crossed into a large plaza, passing one of the many militia posts placed around the city. There was a sentry posted that was vaguely similar in appearance to the one that had given her directions earlier: it had the same dark armour, but with veins of bright crimson running through it and it didn’t appear to have the same cloak or robe. Rather than a bright, shining helm, this sentry wore one that was as dark as the rest of its armour. The armour itself had dozens of wicked spikes protruding from it which made her curious about the rest of its appearance but, much like the previous guard, she could not see over the massive wall of dark metal that was its tower shield to take a look at the person behind.

The sentinel stood motionless as she crossed in front of it, and the flutter of leathery wings from above drew her attention. Perched on the lamppost that came out over the street from the militia post, an Imp peered down at her with shining eyes. The bright light from the enchanted lamp that hung from the post was reflected off of its copper skin and cast a large shadow of the winged creature on the tall building looming over the guardhouse. She continued to look up at it as she passed under the lamp, and it grinned down in return like some sort of sinister gargoyle come to life. Ludmila had only seen and heard of them from books and the tales of performers, yet their descriptions had matched so closely that she was instantly able to identify it. The creature itself was rather small, so she felt more wary than threatened at its appearance.

Ludmila pondered her relatively calm reaction at the reportedly evil being, and her head turned back down to look into the window where the post’s officer usually presided from. With how quiet the city was, she thought it may have not warranted being manned, but a ragged figure stirring inside proved otherwise. A desiccated hand appeared at the counter, and the figure leaned forward into clear view. She followed the flowing black fabric of its robes until her eyes came to a stop at its face. Two points of angry crimson light flared back at her – it was a dead man’s face, weathered by the passing of untold ages. Its flesh had dried and pulled back his thin lips in a ghastly sneer as he stared down at her from the guardhouse window.

She let out a startled cry as she immediately fell away, tumbling onto the flagstones of the pavement. She scrambled back to her feet and fled into the plaza. Rows of stands and benches filled the space – it was a place which would usually have hundreds of merchants displaying their wares and many times the number of citizens, travellers and other folk perusing the vast selection of goods. But like the street that she had dashed out of, it was silent and empty, the evening wind blowing across what should have been a vibrant centre of city life with a lonely moan. Neither sound nor movement could be heard following, but she dared not turn to look over her shoulder as she bolted forward.

With the shift in how she profiled her surroundings, she began to notice other things as well. The Undead she had encountered at the militia post was not the only one. Several similar figures in black robes flew over the plaza, vanishing over the rooftops and out of sight while others appeared shortly after, heading in different directions. In each corner of the plaza, there was a similar guardhouse and the one that she was quickly closing in on seemed to have the same arrangement: a tall, dark sentinel with a tower shield and an Imp perched on its lamppost. Nothing had reacted to her panic, but she made a wide circle around the guardhouse as she followed after Lady Shalltear and her attendants, who seemed to be entirely unruffled as they had passed. Slightly incensed at the sight and the fact that she seemed to be the only person reacting to everything, Ludmila brushed off her skirts and took a closer look at the street that they followed. As she continued to examine her surroundings, she thought back to her encounter at the first militia post, recalling every detail.

Several minutes passed before their winding route led to another small plaza. She walked directly up to the militia post ahead and steeled herself. If a citizen had seen her, she thought that they might have shouted out in warning or terror. Perhaps they would have marveled at her foolishness and awaited the inevitable, gruesome result. But when she stepped directly in front of the sentinel and its grimly gleaming tower shield, Ludmila did not sense that she had any spectators.

As she reviewed her journey through the streets of the city, she reoriented her perception. Even with the Undead present, E-Rantel was undamaged and of the slaughter of its citizens, there was no sign. The sentinels had not reacted to her presence and nothing had chased her when she fled in panic. The only time she had gotten any sort of response was when she received directions from the guard at the gatehouse. She looked up past her reflection in the shield to the crest of the helmet peeking above it. The Imp sitting on the lamppost was looking down at her, but she decidedly ignored its grinning leer. Poking her head around the shield, she took a close look at the sentinel from the side.

Eyes that glowed with angry crimson light glared back down at her, but the sentinel did not stir beyond its notice. As Ludmila registered the features behind the open face of its helm, she had no doubt that this sentinel was Undead. She suspected that every one of the dark, armoured warriors she had walked by were also Undead, but their behaviour was unlike any Undead she had seen before.

Occasionally, the wilderness tribes in the upper reaches would have conflicts between themselves, and the dead bodies resulting from their battles would be washed downstream. These corpses would occasionally result in Undead like Skeletons and Zombies that pulled themselves out of the water, drawn to the abundant life in Warden’s Vale. They would immediately chase after the hundreds of geese wandering around the marshy floodplain, which created an endless, annoying racket until a handful of villagers showed up to put an end to it.

Since she couldn’t even sense how strong they actually were, these Undead were far more powerful than the Skeletons and Zombies that occasionally popped up in the barony…but they seemed to care nothing for the living beyond observing them. While they did not exactly seem to be inclined to interact with her like Human militia might, they were sentries all the same. Ludmila turned and stepped away from the sentinel, walking past the guardhouse. Looking into the window, she saw there was the same type of Undead that had startled her witless before staring back at her. She held its gaze as she passed the guardhouse, satisfied with the result.

While it appeared that death stood in the streets and flew in the skies overhead, the truth was that the city of E-Rantel had been laid siege to by the spectre of their own fear.

Ludmila continued on her way down the street where Lady Shalltear had gone, no longer paying any mind to the Undead standing watch over the city.

Duty cared not for fear, and time awaited no one.

Birthright: Act 2, Chapter 3

Chapter 3

By the point Ludmila caught up with Lady Shalltear again, they were crossing another, smaller plaza on the western side of the city. The evening light cast itself between the spaces in the streets and buildings, painting their path with its fading glow. The dark folds of Lady Shalltear’s gown swirled in contrast to the pale white figures of her attendants; its luxuriously rich fabric seemed to eagerly devour what remained of the day. Her parasol still lay over her shoulder, twirling idly on occasion and obscuring Ludmila’s view.

Though she roughly knew what she needed, Ludmila still struggled to find the appropriate words to convey her plight to Lady Shalltear. After settling herself with the presence of the Undead, other worries arose: worries that if she slighted her in some small way, even unknowingly, she would doom her demesne to ruin. Thus, she continued to follow silently after her as she worked up what little she knew of dealing with high nobility and deciding what forms of etiquette would be appropriate to observe.

She followed them out of the plaza, along the large road as it meandered through the buildings. It continued to feel unnaturally empty; no one looked out of the shuttered buildings on either side on the road to watch their procession. At each intersection, the dark sentinels stood tall beneath the streetlamps, in silent challenge to any opposition.

As far as they had travelled, Ludmila wondered if their journey would simply continue in its winding circuit around the rest of the city and have them arrive at the northern entrance to the central district. She found herself drawing closer to the trio ahead of her as she thought of their journey continuing past that, entering the less reputable and poverty stricken areas of the city, before noticing that the group ahead of her had slowed their pace. Looking to the gatehouse at the wall that set the poorest sections of E-Rantel apart from the rest, she saw two more of the same dark sentinels standing on either side of a closed gate. A heavy wooden bar lay across it; she realized that the pauper’s quarter had been closed off. No signs of activity could be heard over the wall and Ludmila wondered why it was so, and if the residents still remained within.

Her question would remain unanswered as the entourage turned a few blocks before the gate, into an alley between a pair of prominent buildings: a large inn that appeared to be meant for all manner of guests with a tavern on its ground floor, and a warehouse belonging to the Merchant Guild on the other. Unlike the main streets, the smaller lanes and alleys of the city were not paved and had damp sections left over from the wet winter season of the lowlands. The stretch nearest to the street was a loading area for the warehouse and many wooden planks of varying lengths were laid over places where wagon wheels had worn muddy ruts into the alley. Looking into several of the open loading bays as they passed, she saw that the building appeared to have been vacated: nothing but scraps of paper and a few discarded crates strewn about the warehouse floor. The inn opposite to it was shuttered and locked away like many of the other buildings in the city that she had seen along the way.

As they moved beyond the warehouse, the height of the surrounding buildings grew shorter, but the alley tapered to a width that could only accommodate pedestrians. In front, Lady Shalltear and her attendants walked single file: the alabaster-clad women coming before and after their mistress. Ludmila slipped in behind them, not wanting to stray too far in the lonely passage. The lane was no longer as straight as it had been nearer to the main street and angled one way or another as they advanced. Their path now seemed more like a narrow canyon than a city alley; the soil under their feet remaining damp and muddy with the pittance of sunlight it probably saw in a day.

She focused on her footing as they made their way down the alley, stepping around puddles and potholes that intermittently appeared along the way. A short while later, Ludmila felt wisps of the cold spring breeze filtering down between the crowded buildings. Faint hints of woodsmoke were carried along with it, and she raised her gaze to look far ahead at the first signs of life she had seen in the capital since her brief visit to the Royal Villa.

Shadows cast by the flickering orange flames of an unseen fire danced on the alley wall. Any details were still too distant to make out, but the smoke-tinged air carried with it the distinct smells of Human habitation: the aroma of food being cooked and the odours of sweat and worn fabrics. As she approached, the surroundings grew brighter and the faint murmur of voices carried through the haze of cook fires: over which hung large, cast-iron cauldrons. Overhead, she noted open windows where people of various ages could occasionally be seen inside. Many curiously looked down at the small group that had come in from the main streets.

It was a short distance before the alley opened up into a small courtyard nestled deep within the packed buildings. Tall braziers had been placed at the corners of a crudely cobbled square and several men and women stood about them, speaking amongst themselves in low tones. Despite signs of having been cleaned up recently, there was no hiding the age of the buildings that surrounded the open space. Yellow and brown watermarks stained the walls. Patches of whitewash and old clay plaster could be seen all along them. This tiny pocket deep in the bowels of the city seemed to have been forgotten by time: a throwback to an age when the city was still young; the streets and buildings less grandiose. Even the materials used to construct the buildings and the layout of the yard seemed fashioned in an entirely different style to the main thoroughfares of the cosmopolitan city that they had left behind along with its paved roads. Perhaps only those that lived nearby even realized that the hidden plaza existed.

A middle-aged man bearing an unmarked load over his shoulder crossed in front of them, bending slightly in respect to the group as he passed by. His gaze lingered on the women but his pace did not slow as he vanished into the narrow alley to wherever his destination lay. Going by the reaction of the people who noticed them, it was not the first time they had seen Lady Shalltear and her attendants in this secluded little pocket of the city which was well out of sight and away from the Undead sentinels.

The way the people carried themselves and interacted amongst one another marked them plainly as common folk, but they did not have the fresh appearance of villagers in more rural areas like Warden’s Vale. Though they appeared to have done what they could to maintain their appearance, many had worn clothing marked with the grime, soot and sweat of city life. These were the citizens that worked in the alleys and buildings behind the pristine storefronts, guild offices and warehouses of E-Rantel – the hands and feet and backs supporting the city’s twin pillars of commerce and industry.

As Lady Shalltear made her way towards the centre of the plaza, Ludmila looked for a place where she could quietly observe its people without getting in the way. Two women standing under one brazier took note of their passage and after a quick exchange, one of them hurried off into the short doorway of a nearby building. The remaining woman turned to approach one of Lady Shalltear’s attendants. Standing in an unoccupied space behind the group, Ludmila could not make out what the woman was saying as she bowed her head, but the low, plaintive tone made it seem like a petition of some sort. The attendant remained silent and made no motions as she heard the woman out.

With the sound of the woman’s voice in the background, Lady Shalltear and her remaining attendant made their way to a small pile of crates where another attendant with a slightly different hairstyle stood with a clipboard in hand. Their mistress stopped and turned to survey the surroundings, looking back towards the way they had come and the small groups of people going about their evening. The other attendant had moved forward to meet the woman standing at the crates, who began to speak at length with the clipboard held in front of her, gesturing at intervals with some sort of pen in her other hand. The mannerisms of a warehouse clerk were at odds with her fine appearance, and Ludmila observed bemusedly from the side as the two conferred quietly between themselves.

The return of the first attendant caused Ludmila to turn her attention back to where Lady Shalltear stood near the middle of the yard. She continued to stand with her back turned to her as she listened to what the attendant had to say. Four long shadows extended from her figure, cast by the braziers in each corner, dancing across the ground as the fires flickered and crackled around her. The parasol had disappeared somewhere and the long fan had returned to her left hand. After receiving a slight nod from her mistress, the attendant in turn looked to where the petitioner stood and motioned for her to approach.

The woman walked to the building where her companion now stood supporting a third girl in the doorway, and together they helped her come forward to the lady clad in shadowed silks awaiting in the middle of the courtyard. As the trio came fully into view, recognition caused a memory from a year past to jump out at her: a startled and pained yelp from one of her brothers as their father pulled his ear sharply to turn his gaze away from some gaudily dressed and painted women standing at a street corner. It was evening as they were returning to the central district, on an empty wagon through the streets of the city, and her father – who was preoccupied with scolding his sons – did not notice that his daughter was examining their appearance as well. The two women supporting the third, though not nearly as brightly dressed as those from her memory, were most likely prostitutes.

Slowly shuffling forward as they supported the girl between them, the three women came before Lady Shalltear, gazes cast downwards. After they helped the girl kneel before her, the first two respectfully backed away, bowing multiple times before stopping to stand quietly at the edge of the plaza. Wrapped in a short, worn blanket, the woman kneeling on the ground shivered in the chill of the early spring evening. She had a thin, ragged appearance and her skin was marred by cuts and bruises. There was a dark splotch where she had received an injury to her head over her left temple, and a deep cut caked her blonde hair with dried blood and glistened slightly as it continued to ooze. Her light blue eyes seemed to focus and unfocus unsteadily as she looked down at the hem of Lady Shalltear’s gown. The girl did not seem quite there. Ludmila looked at the gash over the side of the woman’s head again and decided she must have suffered some other, unseen injury from being struck.

The arrival of the injured woman had drawn the notice of several passers-by, who had been alarmed at her bloodied appearance as she was carefully led to the tiny plaza. As they stood to watch, others slowed down and stopped to see what was going on. Silence grew over the courtyard, and eventually only the occasional crackling of the braziers punctuated the still night air. Out of the corners of her vision, Ludmila could see the people scattered around the rough, cobblestoned yard watching the two figures in the centre of the plaza. The sudden quiet led to residents appearing in the windows overhead, looking down for the source of the uncharacteristic stillness in the air. Lady Shalltear stood silently at the centre of attention, as if waiting for the expectant energy in the air to rise further. Then, without word or flamboyant action, she stretched her hand out to the woman kneeling before her.

As she reached forward, Ludmila’s eyes grew wide as she noticed for the first time what had been obscured from her vision as she followed Lady Shalltear through the city. Where a slim, the delicate arm with beautiful porcelain skin glowed in the firelight also appeared pallid flesh stretched over a sinewy appendage. It extended far longer than that of a normal person’s, ending in a hand with elongated fingers tipped in what were far too long and sharp to be Human nails. As she cupped her chin, the woman showed no reaction to this monstrous sight and Ludmila understood that it was something that she alone was perceiving through her Talent.

Ludmila’s mind whirled, trying to understand what she was seeing. Lady Shalltear tipped the woman’s chin upwards to face her fully and, after a moment, her clear, feminine voice could be heard across the plaza.

“「Regenerate」.”

A bright, magical glow briefly pulsed over the woman and the bruises visible on her face and body faded away without a trace. The gash over her temple closed as the spell mended the cuts on her skin. The girl blinked as the pain that must have accompanied her injuries slowly subsided. Her jaw worked as if to speak, but the fingers grasping her chin maintained their firm hold.

Lady Shalltear’s voice sounded again.

“「Remove Disease」.”

A second, dimmer, glow issued over the woman – this time she froze in place, eyes looking up at Lady Shalltear. In the silence that followed, a tear rolled down one of the woman’s cheeks, then the other. All at once, she collapsed to the ground, sobbing quietly. By the third shuddering breath, her quiet, wracking sobs had grown to a wail that filled the night air. The woman tightly grasped the hem of Lady Shalltear's dress, pouring into it a life of desperation and anxiety; of fear and shame. At the edge of the plaza, the two women that had brought their companion forward were wiping tears away as well.

Though the weeping woman clinging to her dress was at least half again Lady Shalltear’s height, her small figure did not budge. Indeed, it seemed that she paid the weeping woman at her feet no mind at all, instead intent on once again observing her surroundings.

Birthright: Act 2, Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The events unfolding in the small back alley square had, by then, drawn a crowd of people. Some had come from the surrounding alleys, while many others occupied the windows looking down into the dimly lit area. They looked on in silence as the heartfelt sobs of the woman continued, seemingly unwilling to disturb the scene playing out before them.

From her place behind the impromptu stage, Ludmila silently digested the events leading up to the scene before her. Until that moment, she was unable to make very little sense of their course so far. The reason why this highborn lady, who had a direct connection to the King, would walk halfway around the city to some forgotten back alley on the border of the slums had been a complete mystery.

The revelation that Lady Shalltear was a divine caster shed some light on the questions that had continued to rise in Ludmila’s mind. It would not be uncharacteristic for a priest to come and minister to the people. Were her attendants clad in their fine, alabaster garments Acolytes? Their uniform appearance lent credence to this thought. The light, almost sheer cloth of her attendants’ garb could perhaps be found in much warmer regions of the world. The black gown and bolero of Lady Shalltear with its silver and carmine highlights, however, did not match the vestments of any faith she had ever encountered or read of.

What manner of priest is she? She wondered to herself.

“Cleric.”

Lady Shalltear’s voice snapped Ludmila out of her thoughts and she focused her attention on her.

“Cleric,” the correction came again, “not Priest.”

It was then that she realized that, at some point, she had voiced her thoughts aloud. Though the words had caused her to go silent once again, she couldn't hide the dubious expression that painted her face. Clerics were a part of the priesthood of every religion she knew of. Though they were often trained and specialized for the battlefield, they usually did not mind being called priests. Looking at the back of the slight figure before her, she could not imagine a woman so much smaller than herself standing at the forefront of pitched combat: bolstering her allies and delivering divine wrath upon her enemies.

“But surely you are here to minister to the people?” Ludmila asked.

This was the first time since they had encountered one another that Ludmila had Lady Shalltear’s attention, so she quickly brushed aside her doubts at the previous statement to press her with questions. As Bohdan had tended to the needs of her village, so too did the priesthoods of larger towns and cities serve their own populations. They gave spiritual guidance, performed charity and though they legally held no political power in Re-Estize, the Temples had a degree of cultural influence and certain rights concerning the use of divine magic.

She voiced her query, and Lady Shalltear's posture stiffened momentarily. A short silence ensued. The fan, which she had been waving lazily in front of her face, snapped shut. She turned smoothly with her head tilted slightly, the silken folds of her dress swirling around her.

Though Ludmila had mentally braced herself after seeing the Cleric laying hands on the battered and sick prostitute, she felt herself take in a sharp breath as what she now saw rooted her feet to the ground.

As with Nabe of Darkness, Lady Shalltear had two appearances.

The first was that of a peerless beauty – far beyond that of Nabe – something that Ludmila would not have believed possible were she not witnessing it herself. The Cleric’s luxurious silver hair had been tied up in an off-centre ponytail that spilled down the length of her back. Long, lazy ringlets fell about a delicate face of perfect frame; clear and bright crimson eyes turned up towards her beneath long, silver lashes. In vibrant contrast to pale skin reminiscent of a porcelain doll, her cheeks were flush with life while small, soft lips parted with the hint of an alluring smile.

It was a bewitching appearance that anyone would fall to; any feelings of jealousy or envy swept aside by adulation and longing. Wealth and power beyond all reason would be squandered to obtain even a moment of her favour. She was possessed of a legendary beauty that could topple nations and spark wars that set the world aflame, and the world would gladly become ashes for her sake. But even as Ludmila stood entranced by this vision, her Talent made her aware of a second, horrifying appearance that lurked beneath the first.

Like the arm she had seen previously, pallid flesh was stretched over a face that invoked a dark and primal fear from deep within her. Her mouth, parted in a ghastly smile, was impossibly wide with pale lips stretched thinly around it. All around the inside of her mouth lay row upon row of wickedly curved, needle-sharp teeth, much like the lampreys that would occasionally be found latched to sides of fish caught from the river. A long red tongue writhed sinuously within, running over the carpet of teeth like a fleshy rasp. Glowing crimson eyes shone from within their dark hollows, and Ludmila felt like nothing more than helpless prey. Even the lustrous silver strands that framed her face seemed about to move on their own.

As Ludmila stood transfixed by what she saw, Lady Shalltear seemed to be gauging her reaction. The corner of Lady Shalltear's mouth twitched, and when it seemed that nothing more would be forthcoming from the girl standing rigid before her, she straightened from her coy posture to speak.

“It is the Will of Ainz Ooal Gown, the Sorcerer King, that His domain stands as a beacon of prosperity and harmony for all the world to see.”

Lady Shalltear's answer was clearly not only for Ludmila and her soft, lilting voice chimed lightly across the square.

“By the grace of His Majesty, you are afforded protection as His citizens.”

The arm holding the closed fan swept out over the onlookers surrounding the square as she turned away from Ludmila with a grand gesture. Her feminine figure swayed seductively in the light of the braziers as she made her way back to the centre of the plaza. By this point Ludmila could see a throng of people gathered in their surroundings – even the rooftops had people looking down from them.

Lady Shalltear’s pace slowed as she came back to stand near the stacked crates again. The healed prostitute had collected herself and knelt with her companions. The Cleric’s gaze surveyed the surroundings before finally coming to rest on the wooden containers before her. Following that gaze, Ludmila saw that a meagre-looking plant had been laid on the corner of one of the boxes. With small flowers of white and yellow, she recognized it as one which commonly grew out of the cracks in the pavement and masonry of the city.

Producing a silken handkerchief, Lady Shalltear gently picked up the flower, placing it on the cloth to be folded within. Then, while holding the humble tribute in her left hand, she raised her right.

“「Gate」.”

A hole opened in the air behind where the boxes lay – it was similar to the one that had appeared in the warehouse in Warden’s Vale. Wide enough for several grown men to fit shoulder to shoulder and just as high, it hovered silently in inky darkness. The Acolyte with the pen and clipboard came to stand before Lady Shalltear.

“Pandora’s Actor will know what to do with this,” the Cleric said as she handed the wrapped flower over to her attendant, who had her palms held out to receive it.

Lady Shalltear’s hand motioned lazily at the crates in a dismissive gesture.

“Return these.”

As she turned away, another attendant came to pick up one of the crates. The hollow sound it made as it bumped against the others upon leaving the ground suggested that it was empty. Falling in line with the other Acolyte with the clipboard, they stepped forward into the hole in the air and disappeared.

After a moment, the Acolytes reappeared with identical crates, but they made a more solid noise as they were set down in place of the ones that had been carried away. Back and forth the attendants went, not seeming to tire or mind their burden. As the crowd looked on, the attendants eventually refilled the space formerly occupied by the empty crates, neatly arranging them behind Lady Shalltear.

“It is the Will of His Majesty that His people shall not want for shelter or provision,” the end of Lady Shalltear's sentence was punctuated with a thump as the last of the crates settled on the ground behind her. “It is His Will that His people are provided with the security and stability to thrive – regardless of their ability, occupation or station.”

As Lady Shalltear once again wove around the plaza, her swaying movements and graceful steps seemed almost a dance – more suited to the polished floors of a palace court than the dirt and puddles of the alley. The rich silks of her black ballroom gown swept over the ground and the sweet sound of her voice filled the square; those watching stood transfixed by the vision made manifest before them. It was as if they had found themselves transported into a song of legend and they were witnessing a noble of the highest calibre. Their cramped and dirty alley had been transformed into the grand courts of some far-flung empire, where the lady before them was delivering not a message to the riffraff of a city conquered, but a proclamation to the heads of great houses and rulers sitting on their thrones. In one hand she held healing and salvation; in the other she offered peace, prosperity and the hope for a greater future.

As she spoke, the attendants had all returned and opened the newly-arrived crates. They revealed food – staples, vegetables and cuts of meat. Others contained bolts of flax and linen, balls of wool yarn and spools of plain thread. Coal and charcoal could be seen filling others still; as well as logs of wood and kindling. A great plentitude of life's necessities were arrayed behind Lady Shalltear as she continued to speak, adding a simple to understand weight to her words.

“Those who strive to serve under His rule shall be rewarded in equal measure,” Lady Shalltear rested her hand on the shoulder of the woman she had tended to. “Those that would dare to bring harm to what is His shall be granted no quarter.”

She beckoned for an Acolyte to come forward with her free hand. Immediately, one of the gorgeous women clad in alabaster silks stepped before her and deeply bowed.

“The one that did this,” Lady Shalltear's voice could be heard clearly across the square as she issued instructions. “Find him, and bring him here.”

The woman raised her head, and Ludmila thought she saw a predatory gleam in her dark eyes before she turned away, walking straight towards the edge of the crowd on the opposite side of the square. It took a moment for the bystanders to realize that the last words they heard had been an order, but upon this realization a disturbance arose from the direction the woman was walking towards. The crowd turned their heads. A small opening formed in the wall of people: revealing a tall, lanky man with the appearance of a common labourer. He had already taken several steps, trying to shove through the crowd, but it was too late.

“「Hold Species」.”

The man froze completely mid-step, magically paralyzed by Lady Shalltear’s spell, his arms held out in front of him as he was trying to push his way through the wall of people in the way. Those around him did not even have enough time to register what had happened as the Acolyte scooped him up entirely, carrying the man like a hollow wooden mannequin back to her mistress with no more visible effort than she had shown when she delivered the filled crates.

Lady Shalltear nodded as she opened a new Gate. The man was still frozen as he was carried off to some unknown fate.

The spellbound feeling over the crowd had partially broken due the commotion, but the Cleric’s declaration still echoed in their minds. Lady Shalltear had rejected the notion that she was a priest, but what had transpired delivered a message more powerful than any sermon Ludmila had ever attended. As she looked around the plaza at the faces in the crowd, all those present had clearly been moved by her words.

No...rather than moved, something had taken root. Though Lady Shalltear’s unveiled appearance had tempered Ludmila’s reception somewhat in her own eyes, she still felt the lingering appeal of her words. A colder, more calculating part of her mind reared up in alarm – an ember had been instilled in the hearts of the people here, and from deep in the lowly alleys of E-Rantel, it would spread and perhaps set all its citizens aflame with the evening’s message. It was something many a noble both sought and feared at the same time, something that could become extraordinarily dangerous if it flew out of control.

As she watched the people slowly disperse, the attendants had taken up positions in the middle of the plaza, distributing the supplies to the queues that had formed after their mistress had retired from the stage. Charity was also a component of various faiths, but the sheer abundance before her would have beggared even the largest of city temples before long. As Ludmila watched them work, she felt a presence brush up near her.

“Baroness Zahradnik.”

Ludmila looked down at the familiar voice and her body jumped – most of that appeared below her was a yawning pit of needle-sharp teeth. She was only thankful that she didn’t cry out as well. Lady Shalltear’s slight stature certainly allowed her to move about without being noticed, if she wasn’t purposely drawing attention to herself. Ludmila had a great many things to ask of her, but everything she had thought of seemed to want to come out at the same time, resulting in her mouth opening wordlessly and not much else.

The Cleric in the black gown seemed amused by her reaction, and wrapped a hand lightly around Ludmila’s elbow.

“Let us speak privately elsewhere.”

Birthright: Act 2, Chapter 5

Chapter 5

The pair appeared at the same gazebo that Ludmila had arrived in alongside Momon and Nabe earlier that day. Night had fully fallen over E-Rantel, and the cool air was refreshing after being in the crowded atmosphere of the smoky alley plaza. The wide open space under the clear night sky had a relaxing effect on Ludmila as she stepped off the platform behind Lady Shalltear, who had let go of her arm after they had arrived.

“This gazebo appears to be quite popular,” Ludmila said casually while stretching.

As the words left her mouth, she realized the sort of sloppy appearance she was putting on – not to mention speaking out of turn with a member of the Royal Court. Her heart sunk as she brought a hand to her mouth at her own rude behaviour. All of her efforts to organize proper protocol her mind seemed to have been for naught.

“Hm? Ah, that place is the only spot where teleportation isn’t prevented here,” Lady Shalltear peered around the grounds as she responded to Ludmila’s words, not even bothering to turn around before speaking.

Ludmila blinked several times upon hearing this. While she had not even known of the existence of teleportation magic before today – never mind that it could be restricted – it didn’t seem like such a good idea to reveal security measures openly in public. Perhaps it wasn’t as important as she felt it was; Lady Shalltear’s voice had lost its formal tone, leaving only her light, lilting voice that seemed not too much different from a young woman around her own age. Ludmila wondered if it meant that she herself could relax and put formalities aside…or perhaps Lady Shalltear was graciously covering for Ludmila’s breach in protocol.

Deciding that it would be for the best to not to press her luck, Ludmila remained silent as she followed behind her, resolving her self once again to demonstrate the proper decorum. Lady Shalltear’s attendants had been left behind to distribute supplies to the crowd of people in the plaza, so they walked alone together through the empty streets of the central district. Several of the guest houses they passed had dim lighting that filtered through their windows, so it seemed that the nobles’ meeting had adjourned – she would have to find some way to catch up on everything.

They crossed several intersections, circling around partway behind the Royal Villa, before Lady Shalltear turned and headed into the yard of what looked to be an unoccupied guest house. Ludmila stopped at the gate to look up at the building: it was fashioned in line with the same themes as the rest of the homes in the central district. Unlike the wattle and daub construction of the buildings in the common area, these were sculpted primarily from limestone to match the aesthetic of the Royal Villa and the nearby administrative offices. Rather than a simple guest house, it was in reality a large manor – roughly ten times larger than the baronial manor in Warden’s Vale, its wooden hall included.

There was a letterbox with the number ‘04’ on it just inside the entrance of the yard, and the Lady Shalltear was tiptoeing to reach inside. Her tongue was pressed against her lip as she fished around blindly, finally pulling away with a large black iron key. Turning back to the street, she held it out to Ludmila.

“My lady, what–”

“These will be your accommodations in the city,” Lady Shalltear told her, “for as long as you require them. Well, they’re actually the quarters that were allocated to me since I’m often called to perform duties here, but I haven’t used this place at all. I can return to my own home rather quickly, as you might have surmised.”

Ludmila received the key, feeling its weight in her palm. The guest houses in the central district were quite expensive to rent out – it was actually much cheaper to frequent the merchant inns out in the common sections of the city, and nobles with little in the way of discretionary wealth often resorted to using them.

“Once I settle the Barony’s goods, my lady,” she lowered her head, “I will pay you back for the rent.”

“There’s no need for that,” Lady Shalltear waved her hand lazily. “It's free for me to use anyways.”

“Thank you for your generosity, Lady Shalltear.”

When she rose again, she found herself face to face with Lady Shalltear and it took all of her will to not jump back in alarm. If Lady Shalltear sensed what had almost happened, she gave no indication of being offended by it.

“Surely you didn't follow me halfway around E-Rantel just to gape at my face,” Lady Shalltear said, “If we would speak at length, it hardly seems appropriate for young ladies to be standing outside in the dead of night.”

She was right, and Ludmila had found herself once again committing a faux pas in the presence of a royal courtier. Fumbling with the key in embarrassment, she walked quickly through the front yard of the guest manor to its ornately carved door, turning the lock. With a soft click, it swung inwards, opening into a small foyer where she saw her bags had been deposited in plain view near the entrance. Breathing a sigh of relief at one less thing to worry about, she stepped inside and looked around for a lamp.

“What are you doing?” Lady Shalltear’s query floated in from outside the door.

Ludmila poked her head out of a closet further down the corridor.

“I am looking for a lamp, my lady,” she replied. “Or a lantern, or something similar to help light the house.”

“But you don’t actually need it, do you?”

Ludmila’s hands ceased their searching, and she stepped out of the closet again to look at Lady Shalltear with an uncomprehending expression on her face.

“Beings with Truesight do not need light to see,” Lady Shalltear answered the question on her face with the matter-of-fact statement.

Ludmila closed the box she had been rifling through, placing it back into the closet.

“You are aware of my Talent?” She said carefully.

“Of course,” Lady Shalltear replied. “Momon did mention it clearly in his report to the Guardian Overseer...well, since it is a Talent, he wasn’t sure whether it was exactly the same or not. Actually…”

Lady Shalltear stretched out her arm towards her, and an exquisite rod of clear crystal materialized in her grasp.

“「True Seeing」. Well…what do you see?”

Ludmila opened her eyes, having flinched when she felt the spell being abruptly cast on her. She turned her head to look around for a minute, finally bringing her gaze back to Lady Shalltear.

“Nothing," Ludmila said. "I mean, nothing has changed, my lady. Everything looks like it usually does.”

“And so you have it.” Lady Shalltear nodded as the rod vanished again, “Though there are some distinct differences between a spell that emulates Truesight and the sense of those that have it naturally, it should basically function in much the same manner.”

While they spoke, the scent of rain drifted in from outdoors. Looking beyond the yard outside, Ludmila saw tiny droplets starting to fall.

“Please come inside, my lady,” she motioned to her liege, who was still standing at the door. “It will not do for someone of your standing to become soaked outside.”

Lady Shalltear tentatively stepped into the manor and, when she found herself fully inside, smiled to herself for some reason.

Ludmila picked up her bags and carried them further into the manor, committing the layout to memory as she walked through its halls. She pondered over how her Talent worked. Ludmila had always thought the others in the village could see as well as she did, or perhaps she just had slightly better vision than the rest. Activity around the rural village revolved around the availability of daylight; even border patrols established camp in the evenings. Her assumption had been that it was simply how Humans behaved – working during the day and sleeping at night – and so she did the same. She had never realized that she had a Talent while she grew up in Warden’s Vale, but now that it had come to light, she had become more and more curious about its potential.

The manor was much larger than she had initially thought, with a large patio in the centre of the building around which the corridors leading to the manor's various chambers ran. A flight of stone steps ran up one side of the courtyard, presumably to the residents’ private rooms upstairs. Ludmila slowly walked around the open space of the ground floor, looking into each door as the pitter-patter of raindrops on the patio accompanied her steps. After going past several doors, she found what she had been looking for – the main hall of the manor – though it had been converted into something more along the lines of a large drawing room to entertain guests. She stepped inside and looked about the richly furnished space. Its drapes had been drawn closed and, though it had all the furnishings of a wealthy noble’s manor, the polished surfaces of its tables and shelves lay bare.

There was a pomf sound behind her; Ludmila turned to see that Lady Shalltear had followed her to the room and was now settling onto a long sofa positioned near the fireplace with its empty hearth. Seeing this, Ludmila moved to see if she could get a flame started.

“Now what are you doing?”

Lady Shalltear spoke from where she was reclining, stopping Ludmila over ten paces from the fireplace.

“I was going to start a fire to warm up the room, my lady,” Ludmila answered.

“Come here and sit down,” her liege’s tone brooked no argument.

Ludmila turned around and headed back to where Lady Shalltear was reclining. Selecting a large chair which was set to face the others, Ludmila placed her bags on the floor beside it. As she seated herself, she registered figures moving around them.

Four Skeletons, complete with arms and armour, materialized from the ground. Ludmila immediately rose in alarm but Lady Shalltear, lying across from her, made no move, nor did she seem to even care. Two of the Skeletons walked over to where the fireplace was. One walked back and forth from the rack of firewood nearby, piling logs in the fireplace while the other stood guard with the fire iron in hand for some reason. After a half dozen logs had been neatly arranged on the hearth, the Skeleton stopped and Lady Shalltear – still reclining on the couch – raised her arm, holding her palm out towards the ceiling.

“「Flame Strike」!”

With a tumultuous roar, a column of flame streaked down through the chimney and into the logs arranged the fireplace. The two Skeletons standing by the fireplace were simultaneously blown apart and incinerated as the flames struck the hearth and exploded; the fire iron was sent whistling end over end until it buried itself in the couch just above where Lady Shalltear was reclining.

Ludmila, already on edge when the Undead had mysteriously appeared, leapt over the arm of her couch at the sound and remained behind her cover against the flaming debris landing all over the room. After the chunks of wood and stone stopped raining down around them, she thought she heard an “oops” drift quietly over the sofa. Peeking over the armrest, Ludmila was fairly certain that the word did not come close to describing what had happened.

The large fireplace had crumbled apart below its mantelpiece and the polished stone floor in a three metre radius around the hearth was scorched and shattered. The remaining two Skeletons were running around frantically scooping up flaming bits of wood and tossing them into the pile of rubble that was once an extravagant showpiece of the hall. One stopped to try to beat out a fire that had caught on the drapes nearest to the disaster. As the flames licked their way up the fabric, the Skeleton gave up on its attempts and tore the entire thing down, tossing it over the flaming pile of what remained of the hearth. Ludmila wondered how many gold coins had just gone up in smoke.

She waved her hand in front of her face as she coughed, trying to clear away the traces of smoke lingering in the air before her. As she went to air out the room by opening the now-drapeless window, she heard Lady Shalltear speaking on the sofa.

“Yes! No! Yes, that was me. Wha–our fireplaces don’t do that…no, you don’t have to send anyone over, it’s fine...I said this is fine!”

Unable to stifle her curiosity, Ludmila turned around to look behind her but couldn’t see who Lady Shalltear was speaking to.

“That girl? You mean Baroness Zahradnik? She’s okay, she’s–”

Lady Shalltear stretched her neck to peek around the fire iron which remained impaled in the couch above her supine form.

“Alive. Of course she’s alive! ...you don’t have to sound so disappointed when I say that!”

Ludmila turned back around and checked herself over after she opened the windows. Aside from some splinters and soot stuck to her skirt, nothing appeared to be amiss. Outside, she could see several of the tall sentinels that she had encountered around the city gathered on the street in front of the manor, the crimson points of light in their eyes looking towards her. She tried waving them away like someone might have waved off a militia member looking into a disturbance, but they ignored her and continued to stand on the pavement being pelted by the rain.

She turned back just in time to see Lady Shalltear roll off the couch, brushing her dress off after getting up. Lady Shalltear eyed the fireplace poker embedded halfway into the couch with a frown, grasped the handle, and gave it a firm yank. The instrument came out in a single motion, but the prong had hooked onto the contents of the cushioned backrest, pulling out a long trail of stuffing behind it. With an expression that looked somewhere between displeasure and embarrassment, she flicked the wrought iron instrument in the direction of the destroyed fireplace, where it buried itself in the pile of flaming rubble all the way to its hilt.

The Cleric waved her right hand in a dismissive gesture, and the two remaining Skeletons dematerialized where they stood. She turned to face Ludmila, not quite looking her in the eye.

“Do you think there’s any tea in the kitchen?”

Birthright: Act 2, Chapter 6

Chapter 6

As it turned out, there was no tea in the kitchen.

Ludmila looked through the empty pantry for a few minutes before deciding that since there was no expectation of anyone living in the manor, it had just not been prepared for residents. In the end, she couldn’t even find any teacups, dishes or utensils anywhere either, so Ludmila ended up fishing out two wooden cups from her baggage. Now they were sitting across from one another over a kitchen counter, nursing their cups of river water which had been drawn before her departure from Warden’s Vale. Long minutes passed with the sound of rain filtering into the kitchen, and Ludmila quietly worried over whether her actions constituted as being a gracious host, or an insulting one.

Lady Shalltear broke the lull between them first, rubbing her nose and checking her fingers for soot.

“So…did you have any questions?" She asked, "Is there anything else that you require beyond accommodations in the city?”

Ludmila looked up from her cup of water. On the other side of the counter, both appearances seemed to be waiting expectantly.

“Then...do you know what my Talent actually does, my lady?” She asked, “The Adventurer Momon – of Darkness – seemed to recognize what it was, but we parted before I was able to ask.”

She decided to start with something that Lady Shalltear seemed to be familiar with rather than dumping a whole pile of her demesne-related problems onto her lap all at once. Due to the calamity in the hall, the air of tense formality between them had dissipated by a large degree. Ludmila thought it might be a good opportunity to develop an understanding of the powerful woman on a more personal level.

“Truesight is one of the most potent sensory abilities known,” Lady Shalltear said. “Since you were born with it, I suppose it’s use should come to you as naturally as any of your other senses. As you already know, it allows you to see through darkness, but not only the absence of light – it also sees through visual obscurement maintained through magical means.”

She extended her arm towards the doorway leading to the courtyard and cast a spell.

“「Darkness」.”

Inky blackness smothered the opening but, while Ludmila saw it appear, she simultaneously saw through it as clearly as if it was not there.

“Normally,” Lady Shalltear told her, “Humans will only see a wall of darkness in the doorway, but you should be able to see plainly through it.”

Ludmila nodded, and the Cleric continued her explanation.

“Truesight will foil all magical or supernatural forms of visual deception in your eyes, even if they aren’t explicitly targeted at you. Invisibility, optical illusions, shapeshifting – even the most subtle alterations of form by magic – will all be laid bare to your sight. They should appear to you just as I do right now.”

Lady Shalltear smiled, which was simultaneously dazzling and terrifying. Ludmila offered no overt reaction, and Lady Shalltear pouted a bit before speaking again.

“You are prudent to limit the awareness of others to your ability,” she said. “Vampires like myself don’t particularly care whether we are seen or not, unless it compromises some other purpose, but races whose natural advantages are linked to their ability to alter or conceal their forms would probably react to you as a threat.”

Recalling Nabe earlier in the evening, Ludmila was forced to agree. While Ludmila’s Talent seemed more wondrous as she learned about it, in the end she was only Human, and perception in the face of overwhelming violence would do little in light of her relative weakness.

“Since you’ve been born with Truesight as one of your natural senses, the usual magical means of defeating it will not work. Counter-divination spells, items that protect against scrying and anti-illusion magic, even the most powerful forms of visual deception reliant on magical or supernatural powers – those that your people would consider the realm of the gods – are powerless against your ability.”

Ludmila swallowed: her own Talent was beginning to scare her. She raised her cup to moisten her throat before asking a question.

“Then how do you fight Truesight, my lady?” She asked, “Is there anything I need to be careful of?”

“Why, of course.”

Lady Shalltear pointed a finger at her.

“「Blindness」.”

The noblewoman cried out in surprise as the world turned dark. The wooden cup fell out of Ludmila’s hands, but she didn’t hear it clatter to the table or the floor.

“If someone can rob you of your vision in ways that Truesight does not defeat,” Lady Shalltear told her, “then you become as blind as anyone else that has lost their sight. If a thought is planted in your mind that you cannot confirm with your own eyes – say a smell, or a sound – then, obviously, your ability will not save you: it is something that is bound to your vision, after all…it’s a bit unsatisfying how quickly you become calm, you know?

「Remove Blindness」.”

Ludmila apologized, wondering whether it was something to actually apologize over.

“I am sorry, my lady,” she said. “I was trying to pay attention to what you were saying.”

Blinking several times after her vision was restored, she realized that Lady Shalltear might have a bit of a sadistic streak...or at the least she seemed to enjoy teasing her. Ludmila located her cup, which had been placed to the side, and reached out to nurse it in her hands again as she continued listening.

“There should be some other things you should have put together by now,” Lady Shalltear continued. “Truesight doesn’t let you see through walls or clothing, so any sort of conjuration that produces something real will obscure your vision, even though they were originally created through magic. But while you may not be able to see the face behind someone’s mask or cloak or armour, mundane tricks that rely on light to deceive observers will probably not work on you, since you do not require light to see.”

Lady Shalltear produced a long, white silk glove from somewhere. As she pulled it over her hand, Ludmila furrowed her brow as Lady Shalltear's elongated fingers seemed to shorten and conform to the shape of the glove. The rest of her hand followed as she finished putting on the glove, with no sign of what Ludmila had witnessed before. Such an obvious thing did not actually occur to her: clothing and physical barriers were a normal part of her life and she did not really treat it as a special sort of exception in the short time that she had become aware of her Talent.

“Finally, just because you see the true form of others does not mean you can also always deny other guises they may assume.”

Lady Shalltear’s ungloved hand reached out to grasp her wrist. The grotesque appendage with its elongated fingers and wicked talons did not touch her – instead it was the delicate, carefully manicured hand that lightly rested its cool fingers on her skin.

“A polymorphed creature will interact with you according to its current physical form,” Lady Shalltear told her. “Just because you see that your enemy is a mouse turned into a bear doesn't mean it will not maul you. An Human Druid transformed into a Manticore will still injure you when it hurls its spikes – and the venom will affect you all the same. Similarly, the reverse is true. The hand around your wrist may appear to be a false form, but it is real all the same and the nails of my true form will not dig into your flesh as I do so.”

Ludmila made a mental note, and asked her next question after seeing that Lady Shalltear had completed her explanation.

“How can I combat the methods of defeating Truesight that you’ve described?” Ludmila asked.

Lady Shalltear released Ludmila’s wrist, brushing her cheek lightly with her fingers as she pondered.

“Hmm...well, there are various potions and items that will defend against or remedy these problems, though you will have to discover if they are sold locally here. As for those mundane things, I suppose it will be a test of your skills of perception.”

As she spoke the last, a gleam formed in her crimson eyes and her lips curved upwards in a slight smile.

“What?”

“I think I’m beginning to agree with what Momon said at the meeting today,” Lady Shalltear said.

Ludmila straightened herself, waiting to hear what had been said about her before the Royal Court.

“While you are Human and certainly react in Human ways,” Lady Shalltear said, “you are very different from most of your kind that I have witnessed. When presented with the things that they fear, most will avoid it: they will cower and hide, or they will run. A few – perhaps brave, foolish or mad – would thoughtlessly stand up to their fears...perhaps on behalf of another or for some intangible ideal. Not many would act as you do: in the face of things that you should fear, you do not seek a way to escape such an encounter. Instead you ask questions. Analyze. Plan. Even your polite manner of speech has faded away as your true nature unveils itself. In the end, you look to attack and defeat the very things that would defeat you. As weak as you are, you are like us, in various ways.

If Cocytus were here, I suppose he would go on about it being the way of a warrior or some such nonsense, but amongst all of the Humans I have come across, the only one that behaved as you do was not one of your pitiful warriors, or even those so-called Adventurers.”

“I do not know who Cocytus is, my lady,” Ludmila replied, “but I think that sounds about right…the way you describe it, it seems to very much be something like a warrior’s mindset. When you are what stands between your opponent and their objective, then you must do your utmost to prevail.”

“Well, it wasn’t,” Lady Shalltear said. “He was a merchant, if you can imagine that. To be sure he was startled when he arrived and found the city to be occupied by the Undead, but he recovered quickly and was quite infuriated that his business had been disrupted. He turned the city upside down looking for ways to keep his trade going, until Sebas finally came out to deal with him and sent him on his way. That merchant was quite the wonder – it made us curious why the rest of you Humans couldn’t just all do the same.”

Lady Shalltear pulled on a second silken glove and folded her hands on the counter before her. Her light, conversational voice took on a more serious tone.

“Momon has suggested that you might be able to solve some of the problems currently plaguing E-Rantel,” she said. “As you have seen tonight, the citizens cower in their homes – they will only come out when they need to, and when they see that Momon is in the city. That gor–ahem, the Guardian Overseer does not understand Humans, and only deigns to deal with them up to the point where she believes that useful ones can be...encouraged. She has a mind of order and duty, an endless stream of numbers and rules; a plethora of plots and schemes and mechanisms that drive the gears of what she envisions our Master’s realm to be. She believes that the citizens should feel safe when they are told that they are. That they should work when told to work; eat when they are told to eat, and die when they are told to die.”

“You...do not think the same, my lady?” Ludmila asked tentatively.

“If His Majesty declared this to be the case,” Lady Shalltear said simply, “then it must surely be so. But he has not. In fact, it's precisely the opposite. E-Rantel has been allowed to keep its laws and his vassals have been given free reign to administer as they see fit. This would mean that he trusts us to govern in accordance with his decisions with as much flexibility as is necessary, yes?”

Ludmila thought on her words. Countess Jezne had also said something along the lines of E-Rantel retaining it’s crown and ducal laws, but she had not heard anything about the King’s cabinet having a free hand over the nation. It was an unheard-of amount of freedom that she did not think any reigning sovereign would willingly tolerate. Lady Shalltear continued as Ludmila pondered the Sorcerer King’s decision.

“At any rate,” Lady Shalltear continued, “if there’s anything you can do to help get things moving again, or if there’s anything you need from me in order to do so, just let me know. If it gets us even one millimetre closer to fulfilling His Majesty’s desires, I'll be more than happy to do what I can to help. My specialty lies in battle, so the most I can probably do is to help ensure no one gets in the way of your work. Beyond that, I know little about taxes or industry or the citizens or whatever else that goes into all this.”

“Surely you can’t mean that, my lady,” Ludmila responded incredulously, “all those people in that alley…they were clearly moved by your words.”

Lady Shalltear tilted her head curiously.

“I-is that so? We deliver supplies to many parts of the city like that every day, though? I only decided to speak after you said you thought I was ministering to the people…and even then, I only repeated the Sorcerer King’s desires for his new realm.”

“If that’s all you truly think that you did,” Ludmila said, “then you must be gifted beyond belief. Hundreds of people were enthralled by your words and actions by the time you finished.”

The Vampire across the counter fidgeted with her wooden cup.

“Suppose what you say is true…” She drew out her words, “I didn’t exactly tell them to do anything. What do you think might have even come out of it?”

“I do not know,” Ludmila replied. “Maybe all the people needed was more reassurance. What follows might just come on its own.”

The ringing of a bell somewhere near the room interrupted their conversation. Ludmila turned her head at the sound, looking out the kitchen doorway. Large manors had offices that were normally staffed by hired or personal maids. Several bells would be in that office, which were activated from various parts of the house and used to signal the staff on duty. However, as the house was previously unoccupied, no such staff were in attendance.

The bell sounded again, coming through the corridors from the room across the courtyard. As Ludmila rose to answer, she felt a cool, silk-clad hand reach out and grasp her wrist.

“Wait.”

Ludmila looked back at Lady Shalltear, who had switched to low tones for some reason. Before she could ask for an explanation, she heard the sound of someone landing on the patio with a light splash. Soon after, footsteps came from somewhere out of sight, accompanied by the sound of the rain. The trepidation shown by Lady Shalltear created an ominous feeling as the sound approached.

“Baroness Zahradnik?”

Yuri Alpha’s voice echoed through the empty courtyard and through the halls.

“Baroness Zahradnik,” Yuri Alpha called again, “are you here? Are you alright?”

The maid’s tall figure came in front of the kitchen door and stopped.

“What in the world is...Baroness Zahradnik, are you inside?”

It occurred to Ludmila that Yuri Alpha could not see through the Darkness spell that covered the door.

“Yes?” She replied uneasily, “Yes, I’m here.”

“Oh, thank goodness,” the Royal Maid said. “Would you have happened to see Lady Shalltear?”

Ludmila turned to look back at her liege, who shook her head vehemently in reply.

“Lady Shalltear? She’s, uh…”

As Ludmila hesitated, Lady Shalltear slid off of her stool and onto her feet.

“「Greater Teleportation」! …dammit!”

During the commotion, Yuri Alpha dove into the darkened doorway, rolled over the tiles and rose to her feet with her fists held out before her in a fighting stance. Her eyes went from Ludmila, to Lady Shalltear, and then to the Vampire’s hand gripping Ludmila’s wrist. Following her gaze, Lady Shalltear quickly released her hold and hid her hand behind the counter. The maid narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

“Lady Shalltear, did you just try to teleport away with Lady Zahradnik?”

“Erk–”

“Why is the doorway shrouded in Darkness?” Yuri asked, “Just what were you trying to do to the girl in here?”

“T-there’s a good reason for all this, we–”

The Vampire tried to explain herself, but the maid had relaxed her posture and turned to speak gently to Ludmila.

“You’ll be alright, Lady Zahradnik,” Yuri Alpha said in soothing tones. “His Majesty desires that all of his subjects should live safely under his protection. It’s just that Lady Shalltear gets a little bit…excited sometimes.”

As Lady Shalltear sputtered, Yuri Alpha continued on in her comforting voice.

“Sitting in a pitch-dark kitchen drinking tepid water is not something a lady of your station should be doing, Baroness," she said. "I've brought a few maids along with me, as well as a pair of sentries for your lodgings. I'll have them bring your things to the solar and have a hot bath prepared. We'll have you changed into a fresh dress and there will be a warm meal delivered.”

Ludmila perked up at the offer. Thoroughly exhausted after being thrown from one unfamiliar situation to another throughout the day, it did sound very enticing. Lady Shalltear did not miss her reaction.

“What–are you turning on me for a hot bath?” Lady Shalltear exclaimed, “Traitor!”

Her brows furrowed for a moment, then her expression brightened again.

“Wait! I can give you all that as well…I think?”

“You will not be giving Baroness Zahradnik a bath,” Yuri Alpha said flatly.

“But–argh! Why am I the bad one here?”

“You’re not?” Yuri Alpha arched an eyebrow, “I received a curious report from one of the Death Knights returning from their patrol. Apparently a column of fire came down in the middle of a rainstorm, right into this very manor. I do sincerely hope nothing of His Majesty’s city was damaged.”

Lady Shalltear shrank behind the counter.

“How mysterious...I wonder how that happened…”

Yuri Alpha sniffed, adjusting her spectacle frames.

“Indeed. I’ll let in the maids now and have the Death Knights help clean up before they take on their sentry duties. We might need someone for the roof as well, seeing how easily I was able to enter.”

The maid made a precise turn and left the kitchen, heading towards the manor entrance. Ludmila looked back at the defeated Lady Shalltear, who had laid her cheek on the cold stone counter. Seeing her glance back in her direction, Lady Shalltear spoke in a deflated tone.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” She didn’t raise her head, “Go refresh yourself, I’ll…I’ll be waiting down here.”

Birthright: Act 2, Chapter 7

The Noble Household (Part I)

The noble household employs a myriad of servants and retainers: from iconic Butlers and Maids, to Men-at-Arms, Cooks, Groundskeepers and Pages(to name a few). These individuals that serve the aristocratic estate are far from the shallow imitations that occasionally appear to work on an intermittent basis, functioning as some part of common hospitality to create a transient atmosphere of wealth and luxury. Members of a noble household are retainers which often serve as close personal attendants of noble families in all matters mundane.

In a world where fending for oneself often entails risk of debilitating injury, death or worse, a stable life in honoured service under the protection of a powerful family is an enticing prospect for those without the means to make their own way – or those confident that their skills in stewardship can be put to use leveraging the wealth and influence of a noble master.

Yet as menial as the lowest of these positions may seem, those with hopeful prospects must pass stringent filters; only those who are deemed suitable will be invited to assume the positions of trust that expose one to the inner workings of a noble house and the private lives of their families. Freedmen may enter into the lowest ranks of household hierarchy, while those of noble blood may start in roles that suit their education and upbringing. However, only those possessed of experience and talent usually rise to the highest positions of authority.

A noble's household may be seen as the family of vassals that most closely surrounds the family that they serve. While individually not as prominent as their Lords and Ladies, they are collectively the most visible aspect of a Noble House. They carry within them the honor, will and pride of their houses, representing them in the many aspects of daily life in a demesne.

Vampiric Households are a dark mirror of the noble household: bound to their master – willingly or unwillingly – in eternal undead servitude.

Chapter 7

Ludmila hummed to herself whilst sitting in front of the large dresser mirror, slowly brushing out her hair with an old, reliable lacquered comb that had been in her possession since she was a girl. She wasn’t in a bad mood before, but the hot bath had put her into a much better one as surely as soaking in the warm water had lent the sensation of melting away the day’s stress and worries. Knowing that Lady Shalltear was already willing to assist her efforts to restore Warden’s Vale lightened the burdens weighing on her mind, and she now focused her thoughts on how one might best address the problems that she had seen and heard described in E-Rantel.

One of the maids brought in by Yuri Alpha hovered nervously somewhere to her side, holding a spare towel, while another was preparing her outfit for dinner. Judging by the sounds coming from below, there seemed to be a few others working around the manor. She glanced at the reflection of the maid waiting on her – it seemed like she had put at least some effort into maintaining her haggard appearance, but it felt mostly the same as the other residents that she had seen so far. The women were tired and frightened: long days in such a state had left them in a nervous and jumpy condition. When one of the Undead sentries provided by Yuri Alpha came stomping in with two barrels of steaming hot water, the both of them screamed and fled to cower in the furthest corner of the solar and stayed there. Ludmila ended up having the unique experience of instructing a Death Knight on how to draw a bath.

It was a long while after it had stomped back out of the room that the pair came out of hiding, and by then Ludmila was already half done on her own. Beyond that, the maids seemed very new at their jobs. In previous years, the city had similarly provided maids for visiting nobles who rented the guest houses and the current maids seemed to be quite unpracticed by comparison. Their movements seemed stiff and unsure; they seem to be constantly second guessing themselves as they worked. It was to the point that their insecurity was subtly affecting those around them, and Ludmila frowned as she had to mentally wave the feeling away. As Yuri Alpha had demonstrated earlier in the evening, confidence and form inspired the same in those around her, and so it seemed that the reverse was true as well.

Ludmila thought back to Vilette Jezne and her actions during the gathering of nobles. Perhaps her haranguing of the others was a different facet of the same idea: to provoke a sense of normalcy and routine that caused others to act out of habit. While she had no aspiration to become a crotchety old crab, Ludmila thought she might be able to achieve those same results in her own way. And so, she simply went about her preparations for dinner, methodically running down a mental checklist of her own routines as she moved about the room in her ongoing preparations. It did not take long until the two maids also started to move, trying to keep up with and eventually anticipating her actions. These maids had obviously undergone some sort of training, but they probably had no opportunity to put their training to work with the state of E-Rantel as it was.

She stood and waited in a fresh linen shift as the maids brought her dress to her. Though the hearth in the had been stocked and lit, the air in the room was still warming up. She suppressed a shiver as she mentally willed the maids to move faster. The dress had been purchased last winter, as a reward for her own hard work helping to organize the Barony that year. It was something she thought might suit both their brief appearances in E-Rantel as well as the few festive events at home. It had a pleated white cotton blouse, with long sleeves and black buttons which ran up and under the ruffled bow tie which spilled from the collar. A wide kidney belt fashioned from leather wrapped over the waist, separating the blouse from the long, three panel skirt made from linen dyed in forest green. An open bolero matched the skirt, decorated with buttons between the elbow and wrist. The dress was warm enough for winter in E-Rantel, and she only needed to wear a coat over it to be serviceable in the highlands.

It had been on display in the window of a boutique near the main plaza, and she spotted it while her family was on the way back from selling their goods at the various merchant warehouses in the outskirts – she immediately hopped off their moving wagon and bought it with over half of her earnings for the year. After she returned triumphantly with her spoils, her brothers had wailed upon hearing the cost of the entire outfit, as it was enough to buy half a suit of masterwork plate armour. Her father just seemed relieved that his only daughter was not just a tomboy after years of being raised in a household full of men.

As she was now helped into the dress by her maids, however, a vague sense of annoyance filled her as she saw that her ambitions of yesteryear had been somewhat misplaced. She had grown taller, causing the hem of her skirt to come two thirds of the way up to her knee. The pleated blouse did not fill out as much as she had hoped that it would, leaving it loose over her chest. Ludmila resisted the urge to sigh as the maids fussed over her appearance. When they were nearly finished, one finally spoke.

“Frontier Nobles really are amazing…”

Aemilia Luzi was the younger of the two maids, who had arrived and introduced themselves just before the Death Knight had come to deliver water for the bath. The girl was half a head shorter than Ludmila, with shoulder-length auburn hair and a face full of light freckles. Her emerald eyes glimmered as she continued.

“Even in a beautiful dress, you look like a gallant warrior at the same time. Everything about it suits you so well while making it seem like you could go to battle just like that. Even the hem of your skirt is raised so you can move around easily, when other ladies might have chosen a more reserved appearance.”

The excited maid made a motion with her right arm, as if she was swinging a sword, or perhaps clubbing someone with a rolling pin...or stabbing something with a fork? Ludmila could not tell.

“...how do you do it, my lady?” She asked.

Aemilia’s voice lost its excited tinge, turning subdued. Ludmila looked down at her dress, searching for any problems with the outfit. She didn’t notice anything wrong in the mirror, either.

“Do what?”

The maid’s work slowed, until her hands stopped moving entirely. She looked up to Ludmila with an expression that was a mixture of awe and uncertainty.

“How do you live your life like everything is normal?” She said, “I’ve heard some others talk about how they saw you walking outside this evening, all by yourself in the noble’s district like it was just a regular spring day. I thought that maybe that was an exaggerated rumor, but then that monster came into the room just now and you just continued on like nothing at all was strange.”

Ludmila opened her mouth, then closed it again, uncertain how to respond. She didn’t feel like she had done anything that anyone else couldn’t have. It wasn’t as if she never panicked, or did not feel fear or insecurity. Even her actions around the maids were just an experiment that she was not even sure would work or not, inspired by what she had experienced previously that day. She thought that a straightforward answer would be best.

“I don’t think I’ve done anything special,” she said, “and this is hardly normal for me. I was frightened at first, when I saw all of the Undead in the city, but then I realized that fear for its own sake was unreasonable. I simply decided that I had more important things to do; that I could not afford a life that had me jumping at every shadow. That the days and seasons would pass; that the world would continue to run outside of our borders. That in spite of all of my fears and uncertainty, I still needed to fulfil my duties to the land or my fief would fall to ruin.”

Aemilia’s eyes were sparkling again, but a dismissive sniff from Ludmila’s other arm indicated that the second maid did not see things the same way. Terah Ro'eh’s husky voice was about as incredulous as one could get without sounding outright disrespectful.

“You decided?” She said, “My lady, if we could all just get up one morning and decide to get back to life as usual, no one would be hiding in their homes now, would they?”

“She’s right,” Aemilia said reluctantly, “even the other nobles tried a day or two ago. A few of the ladies riled up one of the boys to show them how brave they were, so he marched out of the clubhouse with everyone following a safe distance away. He stormed right up to one of those Death Knights and soiled himself as soon as he came within a few strides, collapsing on the ground in a puddle. When the Undead monster turned to look our way, everyone screamed and ran all the way back to the clubhouse, leaving the poor nobleman lying on the street.”

Terah nodded at the other maid’s words, her black curls bouncing over the dusky skin of her cheeks.

“That’s right,” she said. “In the end, Miss Alpha had to carry him back to his manor. The poor kid was out cold. Mark my words: Frontier Nobles are made different, somehow. When times are good those other nobles might know how to boss people around, but all the boasting and bragging and talk of being brave captains and fierce fighters is like it never was when it comes down to it.”

Her attendant’s disdain for the rest of the nobility was alarming, to say the least. Ludmila felt a tugging obligation to at least salvage at least a little bit of her peers’ respect.

“Then what about Yuri Alpha?” Ludmila asked, “She doesn’t seem to mind everything that goes on. If anything, she seems to carry herself far better than I do.”

“You’re right, my lady,” Aemilia replied, “but...she’s one of the Royal Maids, you know? She’s probably had a long time getting used to all that, or maybe she’s not what she seems to be at all.”

Ludmila thought Yuri Alpha did not appear to be abnormal in any way, so she decided to follow up on the first idea.

“Then maybe all it takes is time,” she suggested. “The two of you seem to be gossiping quite bravely here, after all.”

The animated atmosphere instantly turned solemn as the two maids exchanged glances. Terah was the first to recover, glancing at Ludmila as she spoke.

“A little time then, my lady?” Terah said, “Maybe you’re right, but you still won’t catch me walking up to those Undead any time soon.”

“You...you won’t tell anyone about what we said before, will you, my lady?” Aemilia asked.

“Not this time, no,” Ludmila answered. “In the future, however, I will not defend you with falsehoods if you are caught slandering the Royal Household or His Majesty’s nobility.”

The two maids stood and stepped back, having completed her outfit. They curtseyed in unison as Ludmila stepped off of the dressing stool and headed out of the solar.

“Thank you, Lady Zahradnik.”

Birthright: Act 2, Chapter 8

Chapter 8

The night’s rain had ceased, and the courtyard patio glistened as Ludmila made her way back down the stairs to the main floor of the manor. The corridors were lit – as were the various rooms in use by the new members of the manor staff. She headed back towards the kitchen to see if Lady Shalltear was still there.

“Over here, Baroness,” she heard her liege call to her from off to the side.

Turning towards the sound of her voice, Ludmila spotted the edge of the black gown with its silver and carmine frills in a drawing room across the courtyard. She made her way around and into the room, coming upon Lady Shalltear who was nibbling on a scone. Seeing the food pass through the image of one mouth and into the other was odd, to say the least. Yuri Alpha was nowhere to be seen. Ludmila took a seat on a short sofa across the rosewood centre table from the Lady Shalltear, whose dangling feet were swinging idly under her skirts as she worked on her pastry.

A shallow splash in the courtyard turned their heads towards the entrance of the drawing room. Yuri Alpha had returned, with a covered dinner tray in hand. Shalltear’s sarcastic query met the maid as she entered the room.

“You’re not making a dynamic entrance like that every time you want to enter someone’s house, are you?”

“Of course not, Lady Shalltear,” Yuri replied. “I was simply repositioning one of the Hanzos from an empty manor nearby; the roof of this building should be better secured now.”

Yuri Alpha came over to lightly place the silver tray on the centre table.

“Please pardon my presumption, but I took the liberty of ordering your meal, Lady Zahradnik,” she said. “This should be popular amongst young people…at the least, Lady Aura seems to relish it.”

Yuri Alpha lifted the cover, and Ludmila leaned forward. An appetizing aroma was released into the room, but the food that lay arranged within was unfamiliar. There was something resembling a sandwich, while the rest of the plate was filled with golden strips. Bubbles rose out of the dark drink in the clear glass beside the plate. That it all seemed to maintain its neat placement was a mystery – especially considering the maid had jumped down from over two storeys into the courtyard.

“The sandwich is called a ‘hamburger’,” Yuri Alpha gestured with her hand as she described the meal, “I believe that potatoes are used in Imperial cuisine – those golden strips are called ‘fries’. The beverage is a sweet, fizzy drink called ‘cola’.”

Ludmila searched the tray for utensils, but there appeared to be none available to sample the exotic foods enticing her.

“This meal is usually eaten with one’s bare hands.” Yuri Alpha informed her.

Ludmila cast a look that begged askance at the maid, then she looked back to the meal, hesitantly fishing out one of the strips from the platter. While she had heard of potatoes before, she had never had the opportunity to try them.

The starchy food seemed to have been cut and fried in oil, then lightly salted. They had the same rough texture as arrowroot tubers from Warden’s Vale, but were decidedly less sweet and crispy. The method of preparation made them quite tasty, however – she wondered if she could do the same thing with the produce from her barony…though oil for frying was not a commonly available commodity in the highlands.

She reached out to bring the glass to her lips, then pulled her head back as the fumes from the drink burned the inside of her nose. After seeing no reaction from the two others, she gingerly took a sip. The sweet drink scoured her throat as she swallowed; she thought it was something that was definitely an acquired taste. The sandwich was a bit more regular – someone had taken minced meat of some sort and grilled it; there was a mixture of savoury sauces in the sandwich that complemented the smokey flavour of the meat. There were also both fresh and pickled vegetables inside, similar to ones she had tasted before. Having not eaten for most of the day, her ravenous appetite had her take all of five minutes to complete the meal while Lady Shalltear and Yuri Alpha looked on.

“I trust that you enjoyed the meal, Baroness?” Yuri Alpha asked as she retrieved the tray.

“It was very satisfying, thank you,” Ludmila replied. “Especially these fried potatoes…I think something similar could be done with produce from my demesne.”

She struggled not to burp as Yuri Alpha looked at her expectantly.

“You didn’t…feel anything?” Yuri Alpha said, “The sensation of becoming stronger, or perhaps more robust?”

“What do you mean?” Ludmila asked.

“The meal should have several beneficial effects upon consumption,” she explained, “though admittedly, Lady Aura does not particularly care about the effects: only the flavour.”

Ludmila shook her head, then eyed the half-emptied glass on the table. Did she have to finish the whole meal, including the drink? She had never eaten a meal that provided benefits immediately after consumption. The Sorcerous Kingdom surely had a variety of wondrous things she had never heard of before.

“That is quite curious,” the maid said. “I believe the other chefs will find this information of great interest.”

Yuri Alpha turned her attention to Lady Shalltear.

“If I may ask, Lady Shalltear,” she asked, “how were your scones?”

“One was the same, as usual,” Lady Shalltear replied. “The other tasted a bit strange…you should know as well as I that I won’t gain anything from eating them, though.”

“We can never be too certain here,” Yuri Alpha said, “and the chefs are being quite thorough in their investigations. There are still many recipes and local ingredients left to cover – any one of them could turn up with something unexpected.”

With a slight bow, Yuri Alpha left with the dinner tray, disappearing into the corridor.

Her hunger sated, Ludmila leaned back slightly into the sofa, looking across the table at Lady Shalltear, who had long since finished her scones.

“So…are you refreshed and ready to work now?” Lady Shalltear said, “There is much to be done ahead of us.”

She seemed eager to begin yet, when Ludmila looked around them, there were only crumbs from Lady Shalltear’s snack on her side of the table.

“I am still unsure what exactly you have in mind when you say that, my lady,” Ludmila said. “I have some experience in helping to manage my father’s demesne, but I do not know what His Majesty expects of me in my position as a minor noble.”

“Well, the discussion didn’t say anything in particular of what they wanted from you, just that you could provide assistance in getting things going again. Did your former liege always tell you what needed to be done?”

Now that she mentioned it, Ludmila realized that she may have overestimated the scope of what had been said earlier. The nobles of Re-Estize were by and large autonomous rulers within their own fiefs – only occasionally collaborating with others to tackle their common interests. Similarly, it was rare that they would be called to assist in their liege’s matters: only those exceptional enough to qualify as ministers and proxies were appointed to such important positions. Ludmila had only started to help manage her own family’s territory when she was twelve – mostly in limited capacity until recently – so what was required of her probably had to do with something within her limited experience.

“If it is something that has to do with my own demesne,” Ludmila thought it a good time to disclose her own situation, “then I will need to attend to several pressing issues that can only be addressed in E-Rantel. My territory is vacated, so I need to find new migrants that can survive life on the border. Then, based on the numbers that can be convinced to immigrate, I will need to purchase tools, parts and various necessities for living on the frontier. Momon sent my village’s goods…somewhere; I must track him down somehow and find out where they went. Depending on the prices I receive for those goods and how many I need to provide for, I might need a subsidy if there is a shortfall…”

Across from her, the Vampire’s bright, crimson eyes seemed to have gone dull. It reminded her of the times when she would speak to her family on these matters – as comprehension decreased, so did their attention span. It usually took her until she got to the strings of figures in her reports to achieve the same effect with her father and brothers, though.

Yuri Alpha cleared her throat to the side. While Ludmila spoke, she had been cleaning the table, taking away the remains of the meal and replacing the tablecloth. A tea set was laid out before them on the table, and the maid spoke as she poured out cups of fragrant red tea for them.

“I believe you will find the methods to apply for everything you need in the forms and reference materials that have been prepared for the local administration by Lady Albedo,” the maid said.

After placing an expensive-looking teacup with floral designs traced over it before Ludmila, Yuri Alpha produced a stack of books and folders from somewhere. As with Lady Shalltear’s parasol, they were seemingly taken out of thin air – Ludmila wondered if it was a magic item or spell common to the Sorcerous Kingdom. The maid gently placed the collection of items on the table but, even so, Ludmila could hear a light thump as the mass was released.

Lady Shalltear eyed the pile with the same look that a person might have given to something distasteful.

“I thought Albedo didn’t want anything to do with us,” she said.

“You should know as well as I that Lady Albedo has prepared extensively for this, Lady Shalltear,” Yuri Alpha replied. “These materials are made readily available to any who would take up related matters in the civil office anyways, so I thought it prudent to save time by picking them up in advance.”

As Yuri Alpha finished arranging the items on the table, Lady Shalltear shifted over on her seat. The maid rose to stand beside the sofa, and the Vampire patted the cushions in the space she had made for her, smiling up hopefully. Yuri Alpha pointedly turned her head away in refusal, choosing to remain standing to the side.

The brief exchange left Ludmila wondering what the relationship between them was. Even a maid in the service of royalty would be hard-pressed to evade the suggestions of a high noble – much less outright refuse them – as their reception could be perceived as a reflection of their master’s disposition towards said noble. The resulting interpretation of this behaviour could cause no end to the troubles between a host and their guest, and so those in noble employ would constantly need to be aware of the will of their master and perform in a manner appropriate to the expression of their many associations.

Though Lady Shalltear had a look of disappointment on her face, it seemed that she had treated the refusal as nothing more than a part of their regular interactions. The way in which Yuri Alpha pressed Lady Shalltear when she discovered the two in the kitchen was also at odds with how a maid would normally act towards a member of the Royal Court. Some might have construed His Majesty's disapproval or even ill-will in Yuri Alpha’s actions towards her.

Perhaps the elegant maid held some other position even as she served as part of the royal household. It was not uncommon for unmarried noble scions to enter in such service that suited their station and, going by the dignified atmosphere that always seemed to follow her, Ludmila would not be surprised if the maid was in reality a princess from some other part of the Sorcerous Kingdom. As she studied her face, Yuri Alpha betrayed no indication that could be seen as evidence of her speculations being correct – she simply looked back at Ludmila expectantly, patiently waiting for her to examine the various items that had been placed on the table.

Ludmila reached out to take the first folder from the stack in front of her. Within, she discovered what appeared to be forms, drafted in impeccable, uniform script. As she leafed through dozens of them, they all appeared to adhere to the same stringent standard. The clean lines and consistent handwriting over so many documents made the whole feel like an artform in itself – she had never seen the like in her life.

They were written to be clearly understandable, though she occasionally came across terms that were entirely foreign to her. Each form was made to assist in requesting articles that were needed in the various industries of the duchy, from the smiths, tailors and processing facilities in the city, to rural activities like farming, mining and logging. There were even those for warehouses, restaurants and various commercial services that were usually left on their own to sort themselves out.

“Amazing,” Ludmila remarked as she continued to flip through the documents. “Were these all drafted by a single person?”

“The Guardian Overseer created the templates for these, yes,” Yuri Alpha said. “Since then, the work to create copies of them has been handed to administrative assistants.”

Yuri Alpha leaned over from where she was standing, selecting a booklet among the items on the table and offering it to her.

“If there’s anything you don’t understand,” she said, “this is a glossary for terms that may not be familiar to the people of this region.”

Ludmila placed the booklet on her lap and reached for the next folder. The files within appeared to be for calculating and reporting taxes. The last folder contained requests for military assistance. Her eyes widened as she skimmed over the list and encountered Death Knight, Elder Lich and Soul Eater. Recalling that Bohdan had speculated that the legendary magic caster Fluder Paradyne may have become an Elder Lich, she wondered if all of the assets on the various forms were similar. Would all of the Sorcerous Kingdom’s nobles be allowed to field armies filled with creatures of legend? One could easily carve out their own nation with such overwhelming military might. Raising the folder with her left hand, she posed a question.

“These seem to state that we can request extended deployment of the Sorcerous Kingdom’s military forces…but there must be limitations?” Ludmila asked.

Yuri Alpha adjusted her spectacle frames, putting on a stern look.

“Requests for these deployments must be justifiable,” she said, “and for security measures only. Use of His Majesty’s forces in a belligerent manner on an international scale is prohibited by his servants. They are also issued with contingency orders for various events and outcomes, so understand that any attempt to wage war against friendly territories with them will not work and may result in fines or other disciplinary measures if warranted.”

“…of course,” Ludmila said. “I was just making sure that there were measures in place against abuse…I was not planning on conquering the Slane Theocracy any time soon.”

Lady Shalltear looked up with interest while Yuri Alpha furrowed her brow.

“It was a joke,” Ludmila replied hurriedly – perhaps being too serious led to her own brand of humor being taken seriously as well.

She shifted uncomfortably in the silence that followed, looking to what was left of the pile on the table. There were four large books – it would not be incorrect to call them tomes – and lifting one felt akin to picking up a block of heavy wood. Placing them side by side, she read the titles on their respective covers: Agriculture, Forestry & Extraction, Refining & Manufacture, Commerce & Hospitality. Reaching out with both hands, she pulled the book labeled Agriculture onto her lap.

Within, the pages had been divided into clear halves. One side had been partially filled, listing various agricultural products – both plant and animal as well as intermediate goods related to the industry. Each had its own section in the column, listing supplementary products, such as fertilizer, feed and tools. It came with recommendations for many, but as she leafed through the pages, Ludmila discovered that there were far more blank spaces in each section.

The other half of each page was a template meant to be filled in with results: crop and herd yields, as well as space for feedback on the information provided and special concerns. Ludmila already had a fairly clear idea as to what was being asked, but she reached over to lay open the three books on the table to confirm her thoughts. Like the one on her lap, they all displayed a similar format.

Each was a sort of makeshift almanac, but there was a lack of information to provide proper forecasts and recommendations. The Sorcerous Kingdom had retained the laws that governed the nation, but the civilian administration had undergone changes to the point where the whole would not be recognizable to what had come before. The new administration needed a bare minimum of functional industries in order to test its new methods and enact policy, but the apparatus had essentially been jammed with the sudden annexation of the duchy and the new realities that came with it.

“Do you understand what needs to be done?” Lady Shalltear asked after Ludmila looked back up at her.

“I do, my lady.” Ludmila said. “Well, believe I understand what is being asked by these, and I know what needs to be done to achieve what is being asked.”

Lady Shalltear and Yuri Alpha had been waiting patiently while Ludmila perused the contents of what had been set before her, and they brightened visibly upon hearing her words. Ludmila had no illusions that remedying the entire situation would be as simple, though.

“In order to return the duchy to normal,” she continued, “the people need to understand what the new normal is. With stability and certainty comes confidence; only then will the population come fully back to life. It is something that will take time, but someone has to start somewhere…”

As Ludmila leafed through the incomplete almanac on her lap, a sudden thought gripped her.

“Say, how is the city doing for food and supplies?” She asked.

“When this city was annexed,” Lady Shalltear responded, “the provisions that the Royal Army of Re-Estize had stored in the warehouse were abandoned, so they were seized by His Majesty’s forces.”

“How large was the levy this year?”

“One quarter million, roughly.”

Ludmila did a quick calculation in her head. While rural territories might be able forage or glean food from their surrounding fields and forests, the ability for the uncultivated lands to support the inland population would quickly diminish and they would still need to be supplemented with food until seasonal activities returned to normal. The city had no such option, relying on imports entirely. The needs of an army and the needs of the citizenry were vastly different, but food and fuel were still the same.

“One year,” Ludmila frowned.

Lady Shalltear and Yuri Alpha looked at her curiously.

“One year?” Lady Shalltear frowned back.

“The annual skirmish with the Empire usually lasts four or five weeks, not including the time to organize and station the levy,” Ludmila explained. “The Kingdom brings enough provisions to E-Rantel for roughly six months. This is enough to feed the city and army long enough for emergency relief to be mustered and arrive from the Kingdom in the event of a siege. With the city in the state that it is in, various tools and parts associated with city life will mostly not wear down since they aren’t in use, but the people still need to eat and stay warm. The excess food from the harvest in the inner territories would have probably gone towards this stockpile, so the duchy has a little over one year of food available. Even in the best case scenario, a late planting season will mean that the territories won’t have the same crops that they usually do. We will need to restore operations quickly to avoid this, or at least produce enough so that trade can make up for our shortfalls. If we do not, the duchy will starve next spring.”

Birthright: Act 2, Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Ludmila stirred to the sound of work being done downstairs. The drapes of her solar had been drawn tightly shut and the door to the hallway was closed, but the bustle of the maids on the ground floor preparing for the day still carried through from the open courtyard of the manor. She stretched herself under her covers and tried to rub the sleep out of her eyes.

It had been well past midnight when Lady Shalltear and Yuri Alpha left together. Upon hearing that Ludmila had an idea of what the various documents were asking for and what needed to be done, her new liege had wanted to start immediately. Yuri Alpha, however, reminded her that Humans tired out and it would be best to resume after a period of rest, so Lady Shalltear had hesitantly agreed to pick Ludmila up from the guest house in the morning.

She slipped out of bed and padded over to the window, parting the drapes slightly to look outside. Though the rains had stopped before she had retired for the night, the skies remained overcast and a grey pall was cast over the district. She was accustomed to rising after daybreak, but it was still dark enough that the streetlamps had been left on. Looking down to the front of the building, she saw the two Death Knights standing guard at the street entrance.

There was a light tapping at the door.

“Yes?”

“Baroness Zahradnik,” Aemilia’s voice sounded through the door, “you requested a morning call an hour after dawn.”

“I’m up," Ludmila replied. "Thank you, Luzi.”

Ludmila stepped back from the window, letting the curtains fall back down again as the maid opened the door. The courtyard was still being artificially lit in the morning gloom; the air carried with it the smells of woodsmoke and of breakfast being prepared. Aemilia closed the door behind her, then turned to curtsey.

“Good morning, Lady Zahradni–oh my, it’s pitch black in here!”

Ludmila watched as the maid groped about blindly – it seemed that yet another of the qualities of her Talent that Lady Shalltear had described the previous night was true. Humans could not normally see in the dark; she wondered how she could have thought otherwise for so long without realizing it. Before Aemilia could topple any of the furniture in the solar, Ludmila drew open the curtain again to dimly light the interior. The maid immediately straightened, walking about cautiously in the weak illumination.

“Oh, you should let me draw open the rest of the windows, my lady,” she said. “If I recall correctly, there was an appointment you needed to get ready for soon?”

“Yes,” Ludmila replied, “they said that one of the fellows posted outside the door would deliver word to them once I knew when I'd be ready. Is everyone else up? I should have one of the other maids let them know.”

“Terah chased the other two out of bed a couple of hours ago...um, I don’t think any of us will be able to approach the guards outside, my lady. I’m sorry.”

“That’s fine for now. I’ll inform them before breakfast.”

Ludmila sat down in front of the dresser mirror and looked around for her comb. The maids had unpacked her things the previous evening, but her personal belongings seemed rather meagre in comparison to the luxurious counter they were laid upon. Before she could reach out to pick it up, Aemilia swooped in and snatched it from the counter.

“Please let us take care of you, my lady,” her voice quavered a bit as she started to work on Ludmila’s appearance.

Aemilia appeared somewhat slow when it came to herself, but her maid was astonishingly quick when it came to her mistress. Resigning herself to the Aemilia’s attentions, she reached out to take one of the files left behind by Yuri Alpha. Before going to bed, Ludmila had sorted out the forms that she thought would be relevant to Warden’s Vale. Though she had referred many times to the reference booklet and the incomplete almanacs that had been included, there were several things that still eluded her comprehension.

The process by which everything was filled out was relatively straightforward. One needed to identify their fief’s products, cross reference them with the provided almanacs and fill out the relevant forms. Based on the area of the land being utilized and the projected yield, an applicant would then simply tabulate their needs and write them down. At least it would have been simple, if the references were fully completed. Of all the produce listed in the agricultural almanac, only a handful of the more common crops had been filled out completely – namely several types of grain and potatoes.

Warden’s Vale had several old terraces cut into the lower slopes of the valley near to the village – remnants of a time when the barony was still in a position to develop its lands. The hamlet constructed to house field workers had long since fallen into disrepair, and only the nearest portion was left in use. After re-clearing all of the old and fallow fields, they would have roughly four thousand acres to work with. She had referenced the material for Oats, which did well in the cool, moist weather of the highland valley. It was a straightforward calculation but, at this point, several questions arose.

The numbers did not make much sense to her. The final tabulation had resulted in eighty light units of labour and four heavy units of labour. But no matter how she could frame these numbers, there was no way eighty tenant Farmers and four teams of draft horses or oxen could work such a large amount of land. A team of draft horses with a wide plough could perhaps cover seven acres in a work day, and four teams would take around five months to till four thousand acres after weather conditions were accounted for. There was also the matter of keeping the land clear and harrowing the tillage…Farmers in the lowlands might have been able to accomplish this with their mild winter climate, but the highland soil would become cold and unworkable in those months.

Similarly, she could not picture eighty tenant Farmers being sufficient to maintain and harvest the entire area. At the end of each growing season, the harvest would not be fast enough with what she saw allotted. Perhaps the Sorcerous Kingdom employed magical tools to expedite farm work, but in none of the nations surrounding Re-Estize was this practiced. She would have to take up her concerns with the civil office – hopefully, they would be able to provide clarification.

Her difficulties grasping what methods were being employed made the other parts even harder. The majority of the products of Warden’s Vale were harvested from the marshy flats that covered the floodplain of the valley. Rather than being farmed, it would be more accurate to say that they were foraged as there was no work put into planting. The villagers only needed the knowledge and expertise, which was a part of a Ranger's training, to harvest the various plants that grew in the valley throughout the seasons. Until she knew what the realm was providing with these application forms, she could not rightly estimate what she needed to perform these tasks.

There were several other documents involving forestry, which met with the same problems. While the application for logging was fairly straightforward, foraging edible products, herbs for medicines and several luxuries such as spices, pigments and plants used for cosmetics had no such detail in the Almanac. At the end of it all, she was dismayed to find that only one third of the documents had been filled out sufficiently, while the rest simply had little to no material to cross reference. The entire system had the sense of being developed for some other place, and they were now attempting to implement it throughout the duchy. Even the terminology required a glossary for an applicant from Re-Estize to interpret.

“Your dress is ready, my lady,” Aemilia said quietly behind her.

Ludmila turned her head towards the sound of Aemilia’s voice. Her outfit from the previous evening had been cleaned up, ironed out and placed on a mannequin stand. The amount of care that the dress had been given by the maid made Ludmila feel slightly guilty for keeping it packed up at the bottom of her trunk for months at a time.

“Shouldn’t I have breakfast before putting it on?” Ludmila asked, “I don’t want it collecting crumbs and smelling like bacon after all the work you did.”

Aemilia made a face, then walked over to check through the tall chest of drawers where her clothing had been sorted into. It didn’t take long before she turned back – everything she had brought for herself shouldn’t have even filled one of the drawers, after all.

“Aside from this dress,” she said, “I found your outfit for travelling in the country, plus some smallclothes…don’t tell me you plan on walking around in your chemise?”

“Yes?”

“No. Nonononono,” the maid’s voice went up in scale by two notches, “one does not simply walk around a manor like that. It is absolutely improper for a noblewoman. Allow me to bring breakfast up to you here, my lady.”

“I don’t want this room smelling like food,” Ludmila told her. “No one seemed to mind my walking around the manor in the barony, anyways.”

Aemilia frowned at her claim, turning to face her with a tentative expression.

“And just who did you share your manor with, precisely?” She asked.

“With...my family?” She replied, “My father and brothers, and any villagers that came in to take care of things – usually patrolmen in training with duties assigned to them. The priest’s acolyte, as well.”

Aemilia’s eyebrows shot up to match the tone of her voice.

“There are limits to being brave, my lady,” she said. “Perhaps it’s something that you’ve become accustomed to from your childhood, but an eligible young lady such as yourself should not be displaying herself to men in such a brazen manner…don’t tell me you were planning on speaking with the Death Knights like that?”

Ludmila suspected that answering her maid’s question would not end well, so she shrugged slightly. Her attempt at evasion didn’t work.

“Absolutely not!” Aemilia was aghast, “Standing out in the street like that…not to mention speaking to those fearful Undead guards in nothing but a scant piece of cloth!”

“I don’t think the Undead really care for that sort of thing…”

Undead aside, Ludmila thought the sensibilities between Aemilia and herself were a bit too far removed from one another. Rural villages were composed of homes which were essentially large, shared spaces, so privacy was not really anywhere on the list of luxuries with that sort of lifestyle. Her ‘manor’ in Warden’s Vale was no different in this regard.

“Who’s to say? I’m no expert on the Undead, my lady, but who’s to say that there aren’t some lascivious ones out there?” The maid shuddered after the words left her mouth, “Well thanks for that thought, my lady.”

Ludmila wanted to point out that it had been entirely Aemilia’s own doing, but seeing that her maid had stopped accosting her over her appearance and lapsed into the gossipy tone that she carried after they first met, she counted it as a win of sorts. Setting her papers aside, she stood back up and the maid helped her into her dress.

“I'll need an attendant for the outing,” Ludmila said as Aemilia was making some final touches on her appearance. “Will you accompany me?”

“Of course, my lady!” Aemilia immediately brightened at the prospect, but her expression grew shadowed just as quickly. “Where are we going? The rest of us were busy making the place livable; all I could tell from your meeting yesterday evening was it had something to do with this monstrous pile of paperwork you have here.”

She motioned to the stack of books and file folders filled with documents. Ludmila pressed her lips into a thin line: she didn’t like the idea that others would listen in on official business like that, but she wasn’t sure what measures she could take against it in the future.

“Yes,” she said. “I need to turn in these forms to the civil office and meet with an official to clarify some things. In addition, I’ll need to deliver my fief’s goods to the merchant warehouses to sell. Then, there are some purchases to make based on what I can secure from the administration with these requests.”

The young maid, having already agreed to accompany her, now looked a bit cornered. She obviously knew something that Ludmila did not.

“What’s wrong?” Ludmila asked, “You seemed excited to accompany me at first.”

“That’s…well,” Aemilia licked her lips apprehensively, “the Sorcerous Kingdom has replaced the missing administrative staff with Undead, my lady. I’m not confident that I can stride boldly into a building full of them like you can.”

“Well, you can wait outside if you don’t feel up to it,” Ludmila said. “I wanted you to help out with some personal articles, mainly. I need to replace old clothing that I’ve grown out of as well as find new pieces for daily use.”

Aemilia perked up a bit at her words. Ludmila had laid out the prospect considering her maid’s attitude earlier about the lack of a wardrobe, and it seemed to have some effect.

“Alright, I’ll take another look at your things and figure out what you need while you have breakfast,” the maid made some last-minute checks on the dress, then stepped away. “We’re done here, my lady. Please enjoy your meal.”

Birthright: Act 2, Chapter 10

Chapter 10

After informing Terah that she would be having her breakfast in the drawing room, Ludmila walked down the main corridor to the entrance of the guest house. Judging by the appearance of the patio as she passed by the courtyard, the streets would still be damp and gloomy. She opened the front door and walked up to where the two Death Knights faced the street at the end of the lane by the letterbox.

Looking at all the spikes on their armour, it seemed a hazard to even attempt passage between the pair of towering sentinels. Standing behind them on the path leading from the door, she cleared her throat just loudly enough to be heard, and the one to her left turned to look in her direction. It did not move like a Human normally would, instead twisting its body around with the joints of its dark armour somehow allowing the uncomfortable looking action. The web of red veins that ran over the black plates made its armour seem more like a carapace, pulsing with malignant energy. Its baleful crimson gaze turned down to meet her own, much the same way as the one in the streets did the previous evening. Maybe they just looked that way all the time. She shifted to face her Undead footman.

“Inform Lady Shalltear that I will be ready to meet with her in an hour,” she said. “There will be a single maid from my household accompanying me.”

Without awaiting anything further, the Death Knight marched off. Its partner moved to occupy the position that had been left vacant, purposefully stepping over to the other side of the lane. It seemed that every one of them wielded their weapon on the right – the tower shield it held would have blocked its line of sight to the entrance it was guarding if it had stayed where it was. Not only were these Undead frightening and powerful in appearance, they seemed to display a measure of competence as well.

After looking into the letterbox and finding it empty, Ludmila returned into the guest house, closing the door behind her. Breakfast had already been set in the drawing room; it seemed that Yuri Alpha had left the ornate dinner tray with its polished cover behind to be reused. She was greeted by fresh bacon and fluffy white bread with a dish of butter on the side. It was very different from the village stew she was used to; there was a distinct lack of greens…and everything else. She wondered if it had anything to do with the supply situation in the city, or if it was just what her maids considered a regular breakfast. Her father had always insisted they prepare the same stew that he had become accustomed to – going so far as to bring all the ingredients along on the trip – so she had never experienced the local breakfast before.

After finishing her meal, Ludmila decided that her father had the right idea. While the light breakfast had a refined feeling which was complemented by the tea served by Terah, it felt insufficient for the active lifestyle that she was used to. She suspected that she might end up having lunch early to make up for it.

Terah spoke while coming forward to take the tray away.

“If you have a moment to spare, my lady,” she said, “the other two maids would like to make their introductions.”

“How are they?” Ludmila asked, “I’ve heard they’re still having difficulties adjusting to life here.”

Terah harrumphed dismissively.

“No more than Aemilia and I,” she said. “It’s no excuse to hide under your covers until you start growing mold. They sure as hell started working once I threatened to make them stand outside with the guards.”

The older maid coughed, smoothing out her rough tone.

“That is, they’ll be useful to you in short order my lady,” she said mildly. “Ever since we’ve entered your service, things have started to become, well, more normal. You had the gist of it yesterday, I think…all it’ll take is time. As more people resume their lives, the more others will be compelled to do so.”

Ludmila wasn’t sure if Terah meant the act that she had put on for them yesterday, their short discussion, or both. Even so, she took it as a sign that she was on the right track when it came to getting the people back on their feet.

“Show them in, then,” Ludmila told her. “I’ll be away for most of the day, so it’s probably best to do this while we have the chance.”

She rose from the couch as Terah motioned for her fellow maids to enter. They were of an age and height with Aemilia, perhaps slightly older. The two were remarkably similar to one another: both sported shoulder-length dark teal hair, with pale faces and paler expressions. Dull grey eyes peeked out from under their bangs at her, then shifted away when she looked at them directly. They seemed dangerously thin, even under their voluminous maid uniforms.

“You’re being rude to the Baroness, girls.”

They jumped at Terah’s words, curtseying before Ludmila. The older maid sighed.

“Please forgive them for their behaviour, Lady Zahradnik,” she apologized. “These two are the Linum sisters: the one on your left is Wiluvien, Lluluvien is her younger sister.”

“We are at your service, Baroness Zahradnik,” they greeted her in unison, albeit timidly.

As they rose, Wiluvien gasped as Ludmila reached out and cupped her cheek, tracing her fingers up her jawline before lifting her hair to reveal her ears.

“Elves?” Ludmila murmured absently. She had never seen them before, only recognizing their telltale features.

“H-half-Elves, my lady,” Lluluvien spoke as her older sister trembled under Ludmila's touch. “We’re sorry, my lady.”

“Why are you apologizing?” Ludmila frowned.

“I’m sorry, my lady. It’s…I’m sorry.”

Ludmila withdrew her hand from the quivering Wiluvien, casting a questioning look at Terah.

“Did something happen?” Ludmila asked.

Terah sucked in her lips as she appeared to think on how to answer. There was clearly something going on with the two sisters, but it seemed she was a bit reluctant to share what she knew.

“I’m not sure if you’ll want to hear this my lady,” the maid said.

“This whole buildup certainly seems to beg the question.”

There was a pause as Terah looked to the sisters, then back at her. Her mouth worked behind closed lips, as if she was still trying to work out what she would say.

“Speak,” Ludmila said sharply.

She was growing impatient. Some time had passed and she expected someone to arrive to retrieve her at any point.

“They were in the service of Count Fassett,” Terah said. “The two sought refuge within the city after the battle.”

“That doesn’t sound bad at all,” Ludmila said, “why would you deliberate so much over that?”

“They weren’t maids, my lady,” Terah replied, “…they were his bed slaves.”

“Slavery is illegal, Mrs. Ro’eh,” Ludmila’s voice was stern. “Both in Re-Estize and the Sorcerous Kingdom.”

Terah shrugged, as if Ludmila’s statement could simply roll off of her shoulders.

“I don’t know much about laws, my lady,” she said, “but that’s what they were. Count Fassett was a powerful man in the duchy – as long as he was discrete, no one could gainsay him.”

Ludmila narrowed her eyes at Terah’s words. Her father had been wary of the man and shared his thoughts with his children, but she never imagined that the Count went so far as to flaunt the Crown Laws – something did not seem right. She turned her attention back to the sisters.

“Are Mrs. Ro’eh’s words true?” She asked.

“...she speaks truly, my lady,” Lluluvien hesitantly answered for the both of them.

“How did you come to be where you are now?”

“Our mother was a slave as well,” Lluluvien replied. “We were born slaves.”

Ludmila blinked several times at the reply, but it wasn’t the answer she was seeking. She rephrased her question.

“What I meant was: what happened that led up to your seeking refuge here?”

The Half-Elf maid looked up fearfully at her, and Ludmila saw herself reflected in Lluluvien’s eyes. She didn’t think her face was that scary – why were they so frightened?

“T-the Count…he sent us out to the military district to entertain his men a few days before the battle,” Lluluvien explained. “We were still there when the survivors came rushing back to the city, fleeing for their lives. Seeing how much confusion and panic there was, we went and vanished into the city: to escape when we had the chance.”

Lluluvien swallowed, staring at something in her memory.

“Except that chance never came. This city is now ruled by the Undead and we thought there was no way for us to survive when we saw that there was no work to be had. We returned to the Count’s manor here in the central district when we found out he had returned to the city, hoping he would take us in again…but he disappeared that very same day, and no one knows what happened to him. His household wouldn’t let us in, either. Miss Alpha found us on the street near to the manor, and she offered us the chance to work as maids in the city.”

Though it was an act born of desperation, Ludmila found it remarkable that they had made their way to the middle of the city when the regular citizens would not even leave their homes out of fear of all the Undead stationed in the streets. With how frail and frightened they appeared to be before her, she would not have imagined that they could.

“Are we fired?”

Ludmila looked back to the source of the voice.

“I’m sorry, my lady,” Lluluvien said quietly. “Are we fired, my lady? Women such as us...we aren’t qualified to serve as maids, are we?”

Ludmila knew that they were correct. Women of their background would not be considered suitable as maids, even in the loose sense of the profession in the central district. While she did not expect any of the hired maids here could even measure up to true maids of noble households like Yuri Alpha, their disreputable history also disqualified them even as temporary hired help. If the royal maid had not personally taken them in, they wouldn’t have even warranted consideration for training.

She glanced to Terah, who stood stone-faced to the side – there would be no feedback from that front. It was a conundrum where the Linum sisters’ unasked-for circumstances ran counter to their will to create a future free of that past. If Ludmila was not in such a sensitive position, she would not have any issues with taking them with her to Warden’s Vale to create new lives there. Such as it was, however, having second-generation bed slaves in her employ was both inconceivable and improper. The scales of her judgement, unfortunately, leaned clearly to one side: against her personal feelings on the matter, and she sought some way to reach an agreeable outcome.

She turned to examples, searching for some pretense from the past or present, and eventually thought of the previous evening in the cramped alleys of the city. Lady Shalltear had reached out to tend to the battered and sick harlot, in plain view of a throng of bystanders. It had sent a powerful message to the people, herself included. Even the city temples that she knew of might have shown open disdain for the woman, perhaps only tending to her out of sight in order to avoid unwelcome speculation. Yet her new liege had done so in complete disregard to her station as a direct vassal of the Sorcerer King and to her office as a high-ranking member of the clergy. She was in a position of incredible political power but she cared nothing for appearances – only for the will of her sovereign.

If her benefactor was willing to interact with a prostitute, then Ludmila could not rightly turn down slaves trying to escape a similar fate.

“I would like to speak with Yuri Alpha about a few things,” she said, “but no, I do not intend on immediately dismissing you. We should also have a priest examine the two of you to ensure you are healthy after your ordeals.”

Wiluvien turned her face up to look incredulously at the words. Lluluvien brought her sister close as she turned tearful at Ludmila’s response.

“Yes, my lady!” They cried, “Thank you, my lady!”

The sisters kept bowing and thanking her – it was already feeling awkward after the first few seconds. Fortunately, the doorbell rang from the maids’ office. Terah turned and headed out to answer, leaving Ludmila with the two Half-Elven sisters who continued with their wholehearted show of gratitude.

“What’s the delay?”

Lady Shalltear’s voice sounded from the hall, and she entered the drawing room with a pair of her beautiful attendants at her heels. Ludmila turned and stepped forward, presenting herself respectfully.

“Good morning, Lady Shalltear,” she said. “Thank you for personally coming to retrieve me.”

The maids, realizing that their mistress was addressing her own superior, immediately followed suit. Wiluvien and Lluluvien had already been halfway to their knees thanking Ludmila, and ended up with their faces to the rug. Lady Shalltear leaned to the side to look around Ludmila at the maids prostrating on the floor.

“Training your servants is all well and good,” Lady Shalltear said lightly, “but didn’t we have an appointment?”

“That’s not what I was doing–actually if you don’t mind, my lady, could you check the health of these maids?” Ludmila asked, “They’ve been through a bit of a…a…thing.”

She faltered at the end of her request, unable to provide an appropriate euphemism for their circumstances.

“If that’s all that’s holding us up, I suppose. Hmm…”

Lady Shalltear circled around to look down at the nearly prone maid sisters.

“You may rise,” she said.

At her voice, the Linum sisters’ kneeling forms unfolded and they sat up. Looks of awe appeared on both of their faces as they laid eyes on her peerless beauty. Without Ludmila’s Talent inadvertently tempering their reactions with her hidden appearance, she supposed this sort of enthralled state was to be expected.

“Well, beyond being nervous and fatigued, she hasn’t sustained any damage to her body.” The Cleric said absently as she shifted her gaze from Wiluvien to Lluluvien, “This one is also uninjured, except…ew?”

Lady Shalltear turned back to Ludmila. Even her monstrous appearance lurking under the enchanting visage seemed to portray a bit of disgust, somehow.

“Where exactly have these girls been?” She asked.

“They were sent to serve as…company for one of the nobles’ men in the military district,” Ludmila answered, “in the days leading up to the battle that took place at Katze Plains.”

“Were they intimate with anyone after that?” Lady Shalltear continued her queries, “The last thing we need is a city full of disease on top of everything else.”

Ludmila looked to Wiluvien and Lluluvien. They shook their heads vehemently and Lluluvien spoke, flush with embarrassment.

“No, my lady–my ladies?” She said, “After all t-that, we wanted to avoid it as much as possible, but…how did you know?”

Lady Shalltear had not appeared to cast any spells, yet she was able to discern the state of their health at a glance. Now that Ludmila thought about it, Bohdan and Sophia were able to keep the village’s health in order as well, somehow. Growing up in a village with a priest was a bigger boon than she had realized – she supposed that in a city there would be many that did not benefit from the Temples, especially if they lived a life in the shadows, or simply could not afford it. A settlement without a priest would need to rely on a local druid or an apothecary of some sort.

Regardless, Lady Shalltear did not deign to answer, instead reaching out for the maid.

“「Remove Disease」.”

Just like the previous evening, Ludmila saw the faint glow of magic pass over Lluluvien.

“There,” the Cleric withdrew her hand. “Now, shall we get to work? We have a big day ahead of us.”

“Of course, my lady,” Ludmila lowered her head in gratitude. “Thank you for your assistance.”

Birthright: Act 2, Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Lady Shalltear’s attendants helped to carry out Ludmila’s small tower of books and folders – much to Aemilia’s visible relief – as they made their way out of the manor. The Death Knight that had been dispatched was back at its post and, between itself and it’s partner, had turned the exit of the manor lane into a spiky obstacle once again. Lady Shalltear led the procession, not caring to even slow as she approached the guards. The two sentinels parted and stood at attention as they passed through, heads held high behind their massive tower shields.

Ludmila felt a tug at the hem of her bolero – Aemilia nervously clutched at her, crowding in closely as they crossed the threshold onto the road. The heavy, metallic tread of sabatons over the street sounded from behind them as the two Death Knights fell into step behind them, and the group made their way briskly towards the offices near the front gate of the district. Several of the guest manors that they passed showed signs of activity within, their chimneys smoking as fires were maintained to keep their occupants warm on the cool spring morning. Though none had Death Knights stationed, none showed any of the usual chores being done by household staff outside.

Ludmila had to raise her voice slightly to be heard over the brisk wind that the clouds had followed. She hoped that it wouldn’t be perceived as her shouting at her liege.

“Lady Shalltear,” she asked, “would it be possible to have several of the other nobles accompany us?”

“Hm? That would be inadvisable,” her liege returned, “they don’t have the same…mental fortitude as you do. Well, you’ll see what I mean shortly.”

Ludmila turned her head to see if Aemilia had anything to say, but it seemed she was too busy jealousy looking over the other attendants. Their alabaster garments, seemingly designed for a much warmer climate, were composed of sheer, layered silks which were very flattering when it came to emphasizing their voluptuous appearance. They, on the other hand, seemed to pay no mind to the envious looks from the young maid, following after their mistress with silent steps.

The civil offices of E-Rantel occupied the blocks just inside the southern gatehouse of the district. They were constructed along the main promenade leading up to the Royal Villa, framing the palatial structure with their dignified masonry, alongside rows of blossoming trees along the street. The trees themselves cared not for who occupied the city, flowering in a grand display of pastel petals. If the day had been a bit brighter, she might have reminisced over the day when she had first been brought to the capital and rode into the avenue from the gate, marveling at its vibrant splendour while sitting in her mother’s lap.

The first office on the opposite side of the road was their destination: one that served to receive petitions and reports from nobles and other functionaries. Stately stone steps, in front of a stretch of pavement allocated for carriages to drop their passengers off onto the sidewalk, led up to the main entrance to the three storey building. There were usually a pair of city militia stationed at the bottom of the stairs, but like the guest houses in the district, the Death Knights that she saw posted throughout the city were notably absent. As their group ascended the steps, the two that had escorted them to the office took up these positions at the bottom of the stairs. At her arm, she heard Aemilia breathe a sigh of relief as they left the Undead footmen behind, stepping away to follow at a respectful distance.

The large doors at the top of the stairs were framed with oak and set with large panels of crystal glass. The face of the building had been fashioned in a similar manner, with large windows to allow light into the interior as well as to provide a view of the street for those that awaited within. Lady Shalltear’s attendants stepped forward to prop open the entrance, and the odors of parchment, ink and vellichor wafted over them as the doors swung open, revealing the darkened space within.

There were no queues of petitioners, nor any individuals awaiting appointments seated in the private alcoves that lined the walls. Lines of velvet rope strung between the metal posts that guided queues hung forlornly in the middle of the chamber, and the sturdy carpets on the floors leading up to the reception remained pristine – unmarred and unsoiled with the marked lack of visitors. A broad counter of polished maple was divided into several sections, each normally having a government official awaiting to service the next client. Aemilia had informed her that the Sorcerous Kingdom had dealt with the absence of administrative staff in the city by using Undead, and Ludmila now confirmed this with her own eyes.

At each of the eight sections of the reception counter, an Undead being awaited in still silence. Rather than the heavily armoured Death Knights, they were more akin to the ones that she had encountered posted inside the guardhouses of the city, robed in black with yellowed strips of cloth, inscribed some unknown language, hanging about their withered forms. As the door shut behind them, they all turned their heads towards the group – sixteen crimson points of light glaring upon them in the baleful manner that Ludmila had over the last day simply come to informally categorize in her mind as ‘Undead gaze’.

There was a heavy, thumping noise, accompanied by the flutter of papers and sound of falling books: the sound of her maid and the articles she was carrying hitting the carpet laid over the polished hardwood floor. Unlike the rest of the group, Aemilia had slowed down after the doors had closed as her eyes adjusted to the dim interior. When the maid regained her vision, she had immediately fainted under the combined stares of the Undead clerks. As Ludmila turned to tend to her fallen attendant, Lady Shalltear’s amused voice sounded from behind her.

“Ah, that’s it,” she said lightly. “The last noble that attempted to enter ended up the exact same way.”

“A more concise warning might have been appreciated, my lady,” Ludmila said as she knelt down beside her servant, checking for injuries.

Lady Shalltear sniffed dismissively.

“Perhaps,” she said. “Or perhaps I was seeing if your influence was strong enough to affect others to the point that this outcome wouldn’t occur.”

Ludmila carefully moved Aemilia to a cushioned chair nearby and, after taking a moment to make sure the maid was alright, she turned back to speak to her liege.

“My influence?” She asked, “What do you mean?”

Lady Shalltear tilted her head curiously at her.

“Your ability to influence those around you, of course,” she said. “This is something that we’ve already observed a handful of nobles demonstrating in our time here so far – whether they know that they’re doing it, I cannot say. Countess Jezne appears particularly proficient out of the ones here, able to stir even other nobles to action. Emperor Jircniv as well, if I recall correctly, was able to steel his escorts to a degree when he was granted an audience with His Majesty. Even walking out of your residence with that maid in tow is quite the achievement, all things considered…how many servants do you see running around in this district?”

Ludmila bit her lip as she thought it over, unconvinced.

“I do not feel that I have done anything outstanding, my lady,” she said. “People can be prompted to action by the actions and words of others from many backgrounds: it is not something reserved for nobles.”

“How curious…”

Lady Shalltear stepped forward, until there was barely a metre between them. She turned her gaze upward at Ludmila, as if trying to peer at something within her.

“M-my lady, what–”

“You Humans have Adventurers, yes?” Lady Shalltear asked, “When you see a party of them, don’t you look and think to yourself ‘this one’s the Fighter’ or ‘this one’s the Wizard’.”

“Well yes, but–”

“By the same token, your common folk have vocations of their own: Merchants and Cooks; Blacksmiths and Farmers. Do you not consider these vocations along similar lines? Can someone that has been a Noble for all their lives pick up a hammer and declare that they’re a Blacksmith? Can a Fighter one day decide that they want to be a Wizard the next?”

“Of course not, my lady,” Ludmila replied. “They would need to learn how – if they are even capable of doing so in the first place.”

“Then what is a Noble?” Lady Shalltear asked her, “What sets them apart from other Humans? What do they do that others do not seem to?”

“We…lead and administer, I suppose. We oversee our fiefs, upholding the oaths and obligations to our liege and to our vassals. The people look to us for direction and leadership; security and prosperity. It is our charge to realize this for our lands through the means available to us.”

“Has it ever occurred to you that those of other vocations cannot do these things as effectively,” Lady Shalltear said, “unless it is also something that they also happen to do?”

“Well, no,” Ludmila said. “I think anyone should be able to learn and perform the same administrative tasks that I am capable of, my lady.”

“So if you take someone under your wing and train them, what do they become?”

Ludmila looked around the reception hall, thinking on how to reply.

“It depends…” She said, “If it is to assist with my administrative tasks, perhaps a clerk or an accountant. If it is to help patrol the border or protect the demesne, a Fighter or a Ranger. If we are grooming someone for the role of a village or town leader without granting them land, they would simply be a village chief of a small fee or a provost that oversees and organizes towns, cities and their surroundings.”

“And if you teach them everything you know, do they become a Noble?” Lady Shalltear asked.

“Perhaps, if they earn extraordinary acclaim,” Ludmila said, “their liege will propose to have them married into their house, or grant them a title if the long term services of their family are deemed valuable enough. However, nobles are usually born as nobles. Even those who are granted titles, like my great-grandfather, retain the skills of their previous vocations and have to learn the responsibilities and skills of the nobility after that…it is said that he did not take very well to them and he preferred to do what he was good at, delegating the majority of his civil duties to administrative assistants.”

“Very good,” Lady Shalltear seemed satisfied with her answers and stepped back a short distance.

Ludmila’s eyes widened as a remarkable transformation occurred. In place of Lady Shalltear’s black ball gown were glistening segments of crimson plate, armouring her from head to toe. A demi lance appeared in her right hand: a weapon of peculiar design and construction that she had never seen before. Her shining silver hair trailed down from under her helmet between a pair of pure white wings. The equipment had the look of being suited for heavy cavalry, but for her short weapon and open-faced helm. Ludmila’s senses told her that this armor was not designed for mounted use, but for something that required even higher mobility and awareness. The sleek form of deadly beauty that Lady Shalltear presented caused any doubts that Ludmila had concerning her principle role as a combatant to dissipate as if they had been a fanciful delusion. The voice that issued forth had a quality beyond the one that echoed off of the walls of the alley, and Ludmila could only be still as Lady Shalltear spoke.

“I am a Vampire. I am a Cleric. I am a Knight and I am a Valkyrie. I guard the realm of the Sorcerer King against all that would defile it with their unwelcome presence. By His command, I will fight until all of His enemies lie slain or I fall carrying out His Supreme Will. There is no distance too far, no duty too great or small. I live and die for my Master, and it is both my pride and my pleasure to serve.”

The words of her declaration resounded through the empty reception hall of the office. Lady Shalltear was not very tall, but at that very moment her presence dwarfed all in attendance. Her eyes shone with a clear conviction that would sweep away any challengers to her claim – those eyes now turned to Ludmila, holding her attention hostage.

“All that I am capable of – all of my fighting prowess; the divine might I bring to bear; all of the awe and terror that I inspire; everything I love and desire – are because of who I am. I cannot be any less than this, and neither can you. So I will stop beating around the bush and ask, Ludmila Zahradnik: who are you?”

Arrested by Lady Shalltear’s noble bearing, Ludmila searched for an answer to her question. After what seemed like an eternity of silence, her liege closed her eyes and sighed. Ludmila blinked, and just as suddenly found Lady Shalltear once again attired in her black ballroom gown.

“Perhaps, like me,” she said, “you grasp things better by experiencing them directly. Let’s try this another way.”

Lady Shalltear looked past Ludmila to the maid passed out on the chair near the window behind her.

“Your servant,” she said. “Tell her to wake up.”

Ludmila looked askance at Lady Shalltear, then back to her maid when no explanation appeared to be forthcoming. She slowly walked over and knelt down beside Aemilia.

“Wake up, Luzi,” she said softly.

The maid’s shallow breathing continued uninterrupted; her eyelids remained still with no movement behind them. Ludmila turned her head back to look at the group watching her.

“You must do more than simply speak words,” Lady Shalltear said. “Think on how you were able to encourage your maids to follow your lead.”

Ludmila stood up, looking down at the young woman, thinking back on the previous evening when she had simply acted and the two maids cowering in her solar had eventually followed suit. Still a bit uncertain whether the feeling she had settled on was what Lady Shalltear was referring to, she tried again.

“Wake up, Aemilia.”

Though she had spoken just as softly as before, her words sliced through the air like an icy blade. More than simple words, it was akin to expression – carrying the tone of confidence, expectation and authority. Her will was carried into the air by her quiet words, heard clearly by all those around her.

Aemilia stirred, and her eyes fluttered open. She turned her head, still laying on the cushions, to face Ludmila.

“Lady Zahradnik, what–”

The maid’s eyes widened in terror as she looked around and found the Undead waiting at the counter still staring in her direction. Her eyes rolled up into her head, and she fainted again.

Ludmila felt a twinge of guilt as Aemilia collapsed back into her chair with a sigh. She looked to Lady Shalltear, who had stepped in beside her, arms crossed under her ample bosom.

“Again,” Lady Shalltear told her.

Ludmila licked her lips and cleared her throat. Stepping over to fully block her maid’s line of sight to the counter, she leaned down and spoke again.

“Wake up, Aemilia.”

Once more, her words cut through the silence, and the maid responded. As she woke fearfully, Ludmila cradled her maid’s cheek with her left hand and tilted her face towards her, keeping Aemilia’s emerald eyes focused on hers.

“Calm down, Aemilia,” Ludmila said, “I’m with you. The Undead here are not our enemies: you need not fear them so much.”

When her maid calmed down visibly, Ludmila stepped back, helping her to her feet. She continued to hold her hand as she stood aside, facing the interior of the office with her. The maid’s grip tightened as she wavered at the sight of the Undead at the reception counter, but this time she did not faint.

“I see that you’re a quick study; you should keep in mind what you’ve learned here,” Lady Shalltear smiled slightly. “You should also keep in mind that there are most likely more things that set you apart from the others – if I can piece this together with what little I know, I’m sure those around you have noted it as well. Not seeking to understand the extent of your own abilities is unforgivably foolish, and misplaced humility can bring as much harm as empty pride.”

Lady Shalltear turned, walking towards the front desk with her attendants following behind her. As Ludmila fell in line to her side again, she asked a question.

“How did you know about this…ability, my lady? Are you able to do this as well?”

“There are some things that you may find similar,” Lady Shalltear answered, “but my abilities in that area are not precisely related to your own. I do, however, have several acquaintances that have powers much like yours.”

“Thank you once again for your help,” Ludmila said.

“You can show your thanks by using your skills for the benefit of the Sorcerous Kingdom,” Lady Shalltear told her. “You have your own work ahead of you, and I believe you’ll be able to use these abilities to great effect in the future.”

They covered the space between the street windows and the front counter, and Lady Shalltear came to a stop. The Undead clerks had not moved the entire time beyond observing their progress through the building. Reaching out to a board where a row of small wooden plaques hung on brass pegs, she took the closest, which had been engraved with the number ‘1’.

She held it out to Ludmila.

“I believe your number is next, Baroness.”

Birthright: Act 2, Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Lady Shalltear’s attendants piled the books and files that they had carried all the way from the guest house – as well as those they retrieved from the floor after Aemilia had fainted – on the counter, quietly returning to their mistress’ side without a word or even hint of complaint. The Undead clerk they were placed in front of looked to the stack and back to them again, while the seven others turned their heads to watch the proceedings. Even if they had been human officials, Ludmila felt that all of this scrutiny would have felt fairly awkward.

Standing aside while the attendants dropped off her things at the desk, Ludmila asked a question.

“Lady Shalltear, what sort of Undead are these?”

“They’re Elder Liches,” Lady Shalltear answered.

“The same Elder Liches as the ones in the forms?”

“If the forms say ‘Elder Liches’, then I suppose that would be the case.”

It occurred to Ludmila that Lady Shalltear had not actually read all of the paperwork that she herself had spent hours poring through since the previous evening. Her liege did not miss the put-upon look that she gave her.

“W-we have plenty of them wandering about,” Lady Shalltear told her as she gestured about loosely with her left hand, “and they’re smart enough for the Guardian Overseer to have a small army of them trained to be ready for administrative tasks soon. Unfortunately, they haven’t had a chance to prove themselves, so they’ve understandably become quite restless – just look at how eager these ones are.”

In front of them, the crimson points of light in the hollows of the Elder Lich’s skull flared. It could have been angry, excited, happy or bored for all Ludmila could tell. Aemilia whimpered from behind, and Ludmila turned to speak to her.

“Luzi,” she said in soothing tones, “if you are still a bit uncomfortable around the Undead, you may rest in the waiting area with Lady Shalltear’s attendants while she and I attend to business.”

Lady Shalltear, face painted with the realization that her attempted deflection had failed, piped up in a surprised voice.

“Wait, why am I doing this as well?”

“A lady of your station should have an understanding of the inner workings of the realm, should she not?” Ludmila asked.

“I told you, I’m really only good for fighting…” Lady Shalltear looked down and brought the points of her fingers together.

“I do not believe that,” Ludmila said, “I think you are an excellent mentor, my lady. You have already helped me far beyond my expectations, including with things I never would have conceived of before – you are a font of wisdom, and you possess charisma that any noble would envy.”

“The Sorcerer King has other subordinates that are much smarter than me, you know?”

For some reason, Lady Shalltear seemed to not harbour much confidence in herself. Ludmila could not understand how such an amazing woman could have such a self-deprecating disposition.

“Those with the gift of intellect surely play a crucial role in the workings of a realm,” Ludmila agreed, “but it is wisdom that guides, and charisma that leads. When the peoples’ hearts are troubled; when souls in turmoil seek stability, they turn not to the sages with their inventions and ideas, but to trusted elders and dependable priests. When faith is kindled and loyalty inspired, it is more often achieved by the words of a great orator than it is the result of some clever scheme. It may be as you say and you cannot match the intellect of some of your peers but, personally, I think your other qualities more than make up for it.”

Both of Lady Shalltear’s appearances held equally complicated expressions upon hearing Ludmila’s words. Whatever her inner conflict was, however, it ended abruptly when she brought her palms up to slap her cheeks loudly.

“Ei! Fine, I’ll do it.” Her expression looked like she was preparing to go to battle rather than submitting paperwork, “I’ll have you explain things to me if I have any questions about this…”

“It would be an honor to serve, my lady,” Ludmila lowered her head.

Lady Shalltear turned to her attendants and waved them away. They, together with Aemilia, left to wait back near the front windows of the office. Ludmila watched as they seated themselves together in a small circle of chairs, facing one another.

“I have been wondering for a while now…your attendants, are they your Acolytes?” Ludmila asked, “Or perhaps is that how maids dress where you hail from?”

“They’re my Vampire Brides,” Lady Shalltear answered. “I have many of them under my authority, and they serve as my attendants in…various ways.”

Ludmila looked back towards the waiting area at Aemilia, who seemed to be trying to strike up a conversation with the silent attendants without much success.

“They are silent most of the time,” Ludmila noted. “Do they speak much on their own?”

“Why of course,” Lady Shalltear said. “They can be quite talkative. Out here, however, there’s usually not much reason for them to say anything.”

“…I see.”

Aemilia would be in for quite a shock if she inadvertently discovered that she was trying to chat with the very Undead that she was deathly afraid of. Ludmila hoped she would come back to a conscious servant when she finished with her work here.

The clerk’s withered face betrayed no sign of irritation or impatience at the continuous delays as the pair stepped up to the counter. Ludmila instinctively tested the air at the sight of its desiccated flesh but, rather than the stench of decaying corpses, there was a very faint trace of the cold, unsettling scent that was associated with the Undead. With so many of them in the city, she was surprised that she had not really detected this before now – it must have been the enclosed space of the office that allowed the odour to collect and linger in the air.

They seated themselves on the tall, cushioned stools that were lined up in front of the reception counter and Ludmila reached for the folder at the top of the pile laid upon it. Fishing out the application forms that were in various stages of completion, she skimmed through them one last time before pushing the first completed application forward over the counter.

A shriveled hand reached out and held the form upright as the Elder Lich briefly scanned the piece of paper. It then wordlessly held up the form beside its head. From above, there was a leathery flutter as an Imp swung down from its perch, swooping over their heads as it snatched the form and flew away deeper into the office.

The hand lowered to rest on the counter once again and the Elder Lich resumed staring at Ludmila.

“...that’s it?” She stared back blankly.

“I-I didn’t understand any of that,” Lady Shalltear said from beside her with a distraught look. “I told you I was only good for fighting. Maybe I should quit while I have some dignity left?”

Ludmila presented the next form. Only two had been completed, while the rest lacked various degrees of crucial information. The first was a request for agricultural labour for the old terraces where she planned to cultivate oats. This one was for harvesting timber.

Again, the process repeated itself. Though the first Imp had not returned yet, a second from the neighboring counter took the form away. The next form – for road construction – was nearly complete, but it required a director to oversee the labour. She laid the sheet on the counter between them.

“I would like to request a…technical advisor for road construction,” Ludmila said.

The Elder Lich lifted the sheet, scanning it in the same manner as the previous forms. This time, it set it back down on the counter before speaking in a deep voice that sounded like someone was rubbing two pieces of dried leather together.

“There are currently no technical advisors for this request available,” it said. “The current waiting time is…undefined.”

Ludmila blinked several times. She turned her head to look at Lady Shalltear, who seemed to be busy trying to read the upside-down form, then back at the clerk.

“Does that mean I have to find my own advisor?” She asked.

“All requests must be fulfilled through the central administration,” the Elder Lich replied. “Technical advisors must be trained and licensed for operations by the Department of Transportation and Logistics.”

“Oh, that’s me…I think?” Lady Shalltear spoke in what sounded like half a question beside Ludmila.

“The Minister of Transportation isn’t familiar with her Department’s own paperwork?” Ludmila asked.

Ludmila tried ignoring the fact that Lady Shalltear appeared to be surprised by her own realization that she was the Minister of Transportation. She wondered if the reason why the Elder Liches were all paying such close attention to them was that they thought they were being tested by a member of the King’s Cabinet.

“There’s so much of it, and it just came out at the beginning of the week,” Lady Shalltear said in an attempted defence, “besides, my Vampire Brides are capable of handling most of the paperwork.”

“Still…you are the department head, are you not, my lady?” Ludmila said, “Making sure that everything runs smoothly and that appropriate policies are passed in the Royal Court is a duty appointed to you by His Majesty, is it not?”

“Argh, I get it already! I’ll take a look at all this at night while you’re sleeping. Let’s just get on with the rest of what you have here.”

“Do you know of a technical advisor for this form, my lady?” Ludmila asked.

“Isn’t that part of what you’re supposed to be helping us out with?” Lady Shalltear answered, “Just find some and bring them to me; I’ll sign off on it.”

“The Elder Lich said they have to be trained and licensed first.”

“It will be on site training! We can use your request for it, then use the trained advisors to help recruit and train new advisors.”

Ludmila supposed she would have to find someone familiar with planning and directing road construction, as she had no such expertise. She took back the form for road work and pulled out the next.

“I have questions about this form–”

“The forms have been approved for official use by the Guardian Overseer,” the Elder Lich interrupted her. “Compliance is mandatory.”

The tone of finality in the clerk’s words gave Ludmila pause. Recalling that these clerks were in reality powerful Undead mages, she wondered if non-compliance resulted in a hapless petitioner being immolated in their seat. She resisted the urge to check the carpet for scorch marks as she rephrased her request.

“I require clarification on some of the fields within this form,” she said carefully.

Reaching under the counter, the Elder Lich pulled out a tome that looked identical to those that she had been provided by Yuri Alpha. It rapidly flipped through the pages, mechanically coming to a stop at exactly the right section. Ludmila leaned over to point out various parts of the page.

“As you can see,” she said, “there are no recommendations for this produce listed in the almanac. Many of the goods harvested in my fief grow in marshes and wetlands, and there are no similar references to use.”

“For fields not specified by reference materials,” the Elder Lich said, “collection of data is prescribed. State your request.”

“To begin with, I would like to know what these ‘units of labour’ mean. What is a ‘light unit’?”

“A light unit of labour is a single undead servitor, rated from level one to twenty.”

Undead? Level? In hindsight, Ludmila thought she shouldn’t have been surprised at the first revelation, but was completely oblivious about the rest.

“What is a…‘level’?” Her mouth worked slowly around the unfamiliar word.

“A level is a measure of your proficiency in a class,” Shalltear said from beside her, “I believe your Adventurers use something similar, but less concrete and subject to the reporter when estimating the strength of individuals.”

“What is a ‘class’, my lady?” Ludmila wasn’t sure she understood, “Does it have something to do with one’s vocation?”

“...not quite.” Lady Shalltear said, “A person may have classes outside of those related to their current vocation. Just think of it as getting better in what you’re doing, and growing in physical ability. In the case of a combatant, it also means that they gain access to more powerful spells and attacks. The civilian classes here may also have something along those lines related to their own matters.”

Lady Shalltear’s rough description made at least some sense to Ludmila, but she had never heard of natural growth and learning phrased in those exact terms. Adventurers recognized their own along similar terms and clear measures of power could be defined amongst practitioners of magic.

“I see,” she said. “Then what would an example of a ‘light unit of labour’ be?”

Lady Shalltear spun in her chair, facing the open chamber behind them, prompting Ludmila to turn as well. A line of Undead creatures materialized and rose before them. Ludmila had Skeletons or Zombies in mind, but there were quite a variety that she had not thought of or seen before.

“The Skeleton Warriors like the ones I summoned yesterday were level sixteen – there are different types as well, but I’m not sure exactly which kind you’d be getting for this sort of menial labour. Those humanoid Zombies…well, it’s probably a bad idea to use them. There are a few that I don’t think you’ll find much use out of, like the Vampire Bats and Incorporeal Undead.”

Shalltear made a waving motion, after which many of the Undead presented disintegrated into the air. There were several remaining: mostly Skeletons and a handful that had the appearance of animals.

“Undead Beasts are Zombie-types,” she continued, “but exhibit some of the qualities of the animals that they emulate. The cute puppy there that looks like a black wolf is level seven and may be used in much the same way as a hound...I’m unsure if those will be made available. The rest are anywhere between one to twenty, like the ones provided by the administration.”

“Is that one an Undead Beast, or a Skeleton?” Ludmila pointed to one of the only Undead summons remaining that looked like it could fly.

“That’s a Bone Vulture,” Lady Shalltear said, “it’s a Skeleton-type. The Vampire Brides that follow me around are in the low twenties…if you need one of them to help with something that requires intelligence, I can assign them to you directly.”

Having the various Undead displayed before her like they were varieties of livestock felt a bit surreal. Ludmila was long over feeling like a fish out of water, however. She turned back to the counter to look at her forms.

“Any combination of these Undead is available for request?” She asked the clerk.

“For industrial purposes, yes,” the Elder Lich answered. “Undead servitors that can spread disease, wither the living with negative energy and those that have no suitable applications in industry are prohibited.”

Ludmila ran some figures in her head based on the recommendations for the other goods she had submitted, filling out the remaining blank spaces on the forms. Lady Shalltear watched from beside her as she went from document to document.

“What about these ‘heavy units of labour’?” Ludmila asked.

“Death Knights are employed to operate larger pieces of equipment,” the Elder Lich told her, “as well as perform other types of heavy labour. Soul Eaters are used to transport goods – a vehicle is not included.”

Ludmila continued marking out the forms.

“What about these ‘special construction units’?”

“Golems for large-scale development projects,” the clerk responded. “The palisade constructed around Carne Village is an example of their use.”

There were hundreds of villages in the duchy, and Ludmila had never heard of this particular one before. Why a village would merit such fortifications, she had no idea. She continued working through the forms.

“Golems aren’t Undead, are they?” Ludmila asked.

“Golems are Golems,” the Elder Lich replied flatly.

“Constructs,” Lady Shalltear offered helpfully.

The horses used by Darkness were the only Golems Ludmila had ever seen, so she was curious what they looked like. She hardly thought it appropriate to request one for just that reason, however. She would have to wait until she had a need for them. Filling out the last of the industrial forms, she handed them in all at once. As the clerk went through her submissions, Ludmila turned to speak to Lady Shalltear.

“These Undead will fight if instructed to, my lady?” She asked, “Say…if the village is raided by Demihumans.”

“Of course,” Lady Shalltear answered. “Their original purpose is to fight according to their summoner’s will, after all.”

“What ‘level’ are Death Knights?”

“They’re level thirty-five – oh, they're actually stronger than a regular Death Knight since they're enhanced by His Majesty’s abilities.”

The numbers started to become ambiguous. Skeleton Warriors like the ones summoned by Lady Shalltear would rarely appear on the Barony’s shores when the wilderness tribes had particularly large conflicts upriver, but a solid patrol could work together to destroy one safely.

“Does that mean they are twice as strong as Skeleton Warriors?” She asked.

“Oh, no,” Lady Shalltear replied. “Double the level does not mean double the strength.”

“Then what is a Death Knight capable of?” Ludmila said, “In the past, some of the raids along the border have been very strong – especially if they involved some important rite for a prominent Demihuman warrior, or a desperate attack in hard times to secure resources.”

Lady Shalltear tapped her lip with a finger as she mulled over the question.

“Well, you requested five Death Knights,” she said at some length. “That should have been enough to kill everyone in the city of E-Rantel – under Re-Estize’s rule – within a day or two if there weren’t many strong Adventurer teams present to defend the walls. They’d be quite effective at cleaning out the city districts with their special ability.”

“Erm…I suppose that should be good enough then.”

“Perhaps,” Lady Shalltear said noncommittally, “I’ve no idea how strong your Demihumans are, but if your people have successfully kept them at bay, then I’d say that you’d be correct.”

Ludmila put away the military request forms. There shouldn’t be a need for excessive force. If she requested too many, she might come under suspicion for belligerent intentions.

“And what of me, my lady?” She finally asked, “What ‘level’ would you say I am?”

Lady Shalltear peered at her for a moment before answering.

“If Aura was here she might be able to give you a better estimate, but based on how tough you appear to be compared to various Adventurers and city militia…level three?”

Ludmila sighed. It seemed that every single member of her future workforce could soundly thrash her. She hoped that she would be able to manage them properly.

The Noble Household (Part II)

Those women serving in domestic matters within a household – colloquially termed ‘maids’ – cover a wide range of specialized roles with varying degrees of importance and authority.

Housekeepers are managers over the majority of the women serving in these domestic tasks, reporting directly to the lady of the house. They are responsible for hiring, development and promotion of those working under them and the overall condition and appearance of the manor. It is a senior position in the household retinue, and a Housekeeper is usually served by junior members of the staff.

A Lady’s Maid is a direct attendant of the lady of the house. They assist in managing their mistress’ wardrobe and appearance, as well as see to their various personal needs. Like the Housekeeper, it is a senior position in the household retinue and does not normally see to menial tasks that junior positions are responsible for. Though a Lady’s Maid also reports directly to the lady of the house, the Housekeeper holds authority over the rest of the female staff, and indirectly outranks her. A Lady’s Maid is not to be confused with a Lady-in-Waiting: a companion of noble birth who serves in a similar capacity.

Those most closely associated with the common perception of maids are the junior staff, each performing specific duties in their part of the manor. Maids who work ‘upstairs’ attend to tasks in the private areas of the manor. Those who work ‘downstairs’ tend to the common areas of the manor, usually on the main floor or storage areas. The grades delineating their positions in the household hierarchy is usually dependent on the nature of the work itself – those assigned to the most menial tasks tend to be the least respected and subjected to the worst conditions.

It should be noted that maids performing kitchen duties did not report to the Housekeeper, but to the Cook.

Birthright: Act 2, Chapter 13

Chapter 13

According to the Elder-Lich-turned-clerk, it would take half an hour to process their request. Ludmila was directed to one of the alcoves to wait to be called upon. It had enough room to seat four people on its cushioned benches, with a magical glass lantern that cast its light over the polished wooden table. With a sound resembling a light grunt, Ludmila set all of her things down, pushing it towards the wall. She waited for Lady Shalltear to be seated before taking her place across the table from her.

“Do you think things will go well, my lady?” A shadow of doubt still played across Ludmila’s mind after she had submitted her requests, “It seemed a bit too easy.”

“The clerk submitted your documents to be processed,” Lady Shalltear shrugged. “There are not many layers of bureaucracy to get through…there should be someone that double checks your documents, then another who organizes the orders. Like I said earlier, these Elder Liches are newly trained, but they are eager to prove themselves useful in their service to His Majesty. It would consider any errors on its first official job absolutely unacceptable.”

“So you do know how things work,” Ludmila said.

“I know bits and pieces here and there,” Lady Shalltear admitted, “I’ve been…placed on standby for the last little while, so between ensuring my territory is secure and seeing to the realm's logistical needs, I've had a lot of free time on my hands. I wander the city and the realm, watch what goes on and sometimes I do some things for myself, but I would much rather be serving His Majesty directly in some way.”

Lady Shalltear seemed a bit sullen as she spoke, and her downcast manner made Ludmila frown. Once again, her liege acted in a way which seemed very out of place with the quality of the woman who had graciously taken Ludmila under her wing.

“Well, I for one am appreciative of your time on my behalf, my lady,” Ludmila said in an attempt to pick up her spirits, but she didn't think the gratitude of a relative nobody counted for much.

“Hmph, spare me the flattery,” Lady Shalltear rested her cheek in hand. “The Royal Court has been working hard to carry out His Majesty’s Will. In His infinite wisdom, He has given us the time to fulfill His wishes, but that time will be over sooner or later. We must present to Him a thriving realm, and we dare not disappoint Him. You are simply a means to that end.”

“Then what is His Majesty’s Will?” Ludmila asked.

“You were there yesterday, were you not?” Her liege answered, “What I declared to the people in the city are His wishes for the Sorcerous Kingdom.”

“But surely that can’t be all?”

There was a long pause between them. Lady Shalltear traced a circle over the surface of the table as she thought on what to say.

“Well…His Majesty is truly unfathomable,” she replied, “so it is only what we have discerned from both His stated intentions and His actions. He desires a realm where all peoples can thrive and prosper. A nation that can shine as a testament to His mercy, wisdom and glory to the rest of the world. Lord Ainz has the power to turn these territories into a blasted and barren wasteland, yet He chose to grant a swift and decisive end to those who would oppose Him and presented a hopeful future to His new subjects. As His loyal vassals, we cannot understand – in our eyes, the Humans of this realm are repaying grace with spite.”

Ludmila felt a pang as Lady Shalltear lamented the current state of affairs. To have one’s goodwill and effort go unappreciated and perhaps even scorned was not something anyone could feel pleased over.

“I assure you that is not the case, my lady,” she said reassuringly. “You might not trust the people of the city when they say so directly, but you should not let this sentiment fester in the Royal Court without confirming whether it is true or not. Admittedly, I have only been here a short while, and I do not know everything that goes on in the city, but not once have I heard anyone – not the nobles, nor the common folk – speak in ways that I would consider spurning His Majesty’s goodwill.”

Lady Shalltear watched her carefully as she spoke, yet somewhere along the way, her expression started to sour.

“Is something the matter, my lady?” Ludmila spoke carefully as a scowl began to form on the Vampire’s face.

“Then why?” The question was delivered in a low voice, a growl from a beast about to pounce on its prey.

“I-it’s because–” she stammered as she watched Lady Shalltear’s appearance shift, the ethereal visage of delicate beauty melting away, leaving only the menacing image of her true form.

“WHY?!” The Vampire’s voice had turned into a rasping, malevolent hiss, filling the alcove.

Ludmila was about to glance beyond the secluded space to see if anyone was watching, but the crimson glare flared and her will was forcefully wrested away from her before she even knew what was happening. Dozens of rows of needle-like teeth came close, and the tinge of blood filled the air.

“Tell me!” Lady Shalltear’s voice came out as a sibilant whisper that slithered into Ludmila’s mind, “Tell me the truth. Tell me why these Humans continue to defy the Will of Lord Ainz!”

“They are not defying His Majesty’s will,” Ludmila felt her own voice come out in response, flat and emotionless, “they are only scared. It is only fear.”

“This is a lie! A lie! Fear? What is there to fear? Are His precious words not enough for you? Do you believe it to be deception? Tell me, is it hate? Do you hate Him? He, who has granted His infinite mercy to you – to us?!”

As the questions broke over Ludmila one after another, Lady Shalltear’s voice rose as her words turned into accusations. A tear rolled down the pallid flesh of her cheek at the last as she howled at her.

“I would strike you all down for your insolence, if not for His order to stay my hand. Turning this entire world into a sea of boiling blood would not nearly be enough to pay for your scorn!”

“It is not a lie," Ludmila said. "It is not distrust; it is not hate. It is fear…and we are only Human.”

For long moments, Ludmila was pinned in place by the Vampire’s gaze. She watched as the image of Lady Shalltear’s beautiful form eventually returned, superimposed over her true appearance. As she pulled back from leaning over the table and settled into the cushions of her seat, Ludmila felt herself being released from her liege’s mental hold. Across from her, Lady Shalltear was drying her tears with a handkerchief that she had pulled from a pocket inside her bolero. Several minutes passed in silence, before Lady Shalltear spoke tentatively.

“I...I...was just thinking about my Lord’s wishes,” she said, twiddling the silken handkerchief in her fingers. “About how nothing ever seems to go in the right direction…and I lost myself. You will forgive me.”

“You are forgiven,” Ludmila replied in a flat, emotionless tone.

The fingers stopped and she looked up at Ludmila, squeezing her eyes shut tightly and opening them again as her eyelids fluttered and her slitted pupils dilated. Realization that Ludmila had imitated a charmed voice dawned over her face.

“That’s not funny!”

Lady Shalltear tried suppressing a laugh, but failed; the effort resulting in something halfway between a laugh and sob. She sniffed, then blew her nose loudly into her handkerchief. Ludmila waited quietly, attempting to reassert her usual mental state before speaking.

“When we spoke yesterday,” she said, “you expressed the state of the citizens before I could even share my thoughts on it. You always speak of your service to His Majesty fondly, and I don’t think anyone could question your devotion when they hear you. If I found something that inspired such conviction in me, I think I might become furious as well if something like this happened.”

“I swear…if you keep up with that unwavering coolheadedness of yours,” Lady Shalltear said, “you’ll turn into a Golem one day.”

“…is that even possible?”

“No. Not like that, anyways.”

Ludmila wondered if Lady Shalltear was trying to get back at her for her prank. The thought brought her back to what had occurred between them.

“That ability that you used just now…” She asked, “Is that what it feels like every time I use my own on Luzi?”

“What, are you trying to make me feel guilty?” Lady Shalltear made a face, “No, that was an ability that Vampires possess. Our power to charm others has to do with the supernatural nature of our race. Your abilities have to do with your own race: Humans have a social caste that specializes in administration and leadership; so your Nobles have abilities related to their role in Human society. Demiurge – one of the most intelligent of His Majesty’s servants – speculates that every race with a ruling caste will have their own classes along the same vein as your Human aristocracy. He also speculates that races that have become overly reliant on the abilities of their ruling class can be easily disrupted by eliminating them at opportune moments, or better yet – by taking control of them in some form and having them lead in a manner that suits our objectives.”

Ludmila felt that talking about usurping those in leadership while sitting in a government office seemed terribly wrong, so she steered the conversation in a different direction while nervously looking towards the reception counter.

“Still, telling people to do something and having them act as a result of an ability,” Ludmila mused. “Even Countess Jezne only seemed to be able to encourage the nobles around her to collect themselves...if that was even her ability at work. I still can’t tell whether one has been persuaded to act through normal means or through the use of an ability.”

“Yes, that’s something interesting I noticed as well,” Lady Shalltear said. “What you did was not just subtly influencing others, but reinforcing them and ordering them into action. This is something that those with Commander classes do, but as of yet, we haven’t encountered any other Nobles that have demonstrated active command abilities. We know that Commanders exist amongst Humans at large – Carne Village reportedly has a Farmer girl with the ability to do so, but this arose out of a decidedly strange set of circumstances. Since Humans appear to have many classes that are unfamiliar to us, I think you may have something along those lines.”

Ludmila already knew how she was going to reply – it had been under her consideration for a while now.

“There is something you said earlier: to think about what people notice that I never considered truly special. More than a few have mentioned nobles from the frontier as being…beyond the rest of their peers – that we were made differently, somehow. My maids said something along these lines shortly after we were first introduced and they entered my household.”

“Oh?” Lady Shalltear straightened in her seat, “This is a promising lead. What did they say, exactly?”

“Aemilia said that I could brave the city streets when none of the other nobles were capable of doing so,” Ludmila made an account of her memories, “even after said nobles had worked up the courage to try. That I appeared like a gallant warrior, ready to fight at any time. Countess Jezne said she had expectations of me, though she never elaborated on what she meant. Bohdan – the village priest in Warden’s Vale – remarked that I shared a similar trait with my ancestors: the willingness to face danger with a resolute will and he, too, told me that the people of the frontier were different than those of the interior. My parents said many things as well, but all noble parents seem to teach their children that they are superior in some way…I never really considered it seriously until now.”

“So is it true?” Lady Shalltear asked, “Everything that they said about you.”

Ludmila shifted uncomfortably in her seat: frontiersmen were not ones to brazenly advertise themselves, and she was no exception.

“I think so, yes,” she replied. “There’s so much more now that you’ve brought it to my attention. My brothers were much better fighters than the other noble scions when they practiced together, and they almost always stood at the centre of a crowd. I can feel that I am stronger than other people as well: I can run a bit faster, last a bit longer, carry more and fight better. My parents could outfight any of the Rangers and Fighters in the village, and during the Battle of Katze Plains, my lord father was able to keep his men from breaking…right until the end.”

Ludmila swallowed after the last of those words left her mouth. She wasn’t sure when she had decided her family was lost, and now she felt absolutely terrible hearing herself say as much.

“Hmm…this is a lot to think about.” Lady Shalltear said solemnly, “If all these claims can be proven to be true, then it will be a matter of grave importance.”

“Surely you cannot mean that, my lady,” Ludmila said incredulously. “With so many powerful servants at His Majesty’s disposal, it hardly seems to matter.”

“You’re correct that at your level it makes a negligible impact in combat as an individual,” Lady Shalltear agreed, “but a Commander placed over a company of powerful soldiers should still make them that much stronger. I would also be negligent in my duties to think that the world would conveniently present weak opponents forever. I need to speak to Demiurge about this – no, Momon would be the closest to an expert that we have. He was even right about you yesterday during the council meeting…just how much of this has he planned out, I wonder?”

“You will be taking your leave then, my lady?” Ludmila asked.

“No. You Humans have your inconvenient need for sleep, and we’ve still other things to do before your day is over.” Lady Shalltear looked to the reception area, from where a figure approached, “I believe your paperwork has gone through.”

An Elder Lich had appeared from the office behind the counter, circled around the reception desk, and was now purposely walking their way. Its tattered robes of black silk shimmered as it walked by the windows and it held a long, gnarled staff in its right hand. The end of the staff touched the ground in time with its steps, but Ludmila could hear neither the tapping noise that should have accompanied the action, nor the sound of the Elder Lich’s footfalls.

It came to stand a few metres away, bowing to Lady Shalltear, then looked to Ludmila. It had the same stained strips of cloth lined with strange lettering like the other Elder Liches at the counter. In addition, it held a large, leather-bound tome pressed to its chest.

“Is it saying something, my lady?” Ludmila frowned, “I was watching it approach, but I did not hear anything at all.”

“Oh, that’s right.”

Lady Shalltear motioned for the Elder Lich to step forward. After a single stride, its footsteps could be heard – as could the sound of its staff tapping on the floor.

“The Humans that constructed this city are quite adept at building spaces for large numbers of citizens in close proximity,” her liege said. “These alcoves were designed to provide privacy without the need to construct additional rooms. We’ve revisited many of these concepts when we occupied the city and created additional security measures. We decided for a Silence spell to be maintained for these alcoves so that the office’s clients can discuss their personal business privately within.”

“The other nobles should be pleased with this consideration once they become accustomed to life in the city, my lady.” She looked up to the Elder Lich that was now standing beside the table, “So…were there any problems with my submitted requests?”

“No outstanding issues were identified,” it replied, and Ludmila let out a relieved sigh.

The Elder Lich had a markedly different voice than the one they had spoken to at the counter. It still had something of an abrasive and dry rasp, but the tone was distinctly female.

“Your request is being seen to,” it informed her, “and will be arriving shortly outside. This one has been ordered by the Guardian Overseer to accompany Baroness Zahradnik to her territory as an attaché.”

“An attaché?” Lady Shalltear peered suspiciously at the Elder Lich, “why would Albedo suddenly want to stick her big nose into something she didn’t want anything to do with just yesterday?”

“Lady Albedo has deemed it to be the most efficient manner by which to fine tune various mechanisms of administration and labour in their associated fields.” The Elder Lich replied dispassionately, “This has been mandated as standard practice when information is insufficient to publish suitable manuals.”

“Ugh, did she train you to speak like that too?” Lady Shalltear complained in a long-suffering tone, “The last thing I want to hear is hundreds of Elder Liches parroting that insufferable bi–ahem–the Guardian Overseer.”

The Elder Lich gave no response, which in turn appeared to worsen Lady Shalltear’s disposition.

“Where will the units from the request be delivered?” Ludmila hurriedly filled in the silence, “Will I be able to review them before they are deployed?”

“They are currently en route to the main avenue,” the Elder Lich answered. “You may review them in front of the civil office.”

As if on cue, Aemilia appeared in Ludmila’s line of sight, standing over five metres behind the Elder Lich. Her lips were moving as she made fretful motions with her hands, but the enchantment preventing sound from crossing the threshold of the alcove stopped the maid’s words from reaching her. Ludmila rose from her seat, stepping past the Elder Lich to leave the alcove.

“–ounded by Undead, my lady! Thousands of them!”

Aemilia’s panicked words met her as she stepped out of the alcove. Her auburn hair was jostled as she bounced anxiously on the balls of her feet.

“What do we do?” She said worriedly, “Are we under attack?”

Ludmila placed her hand on the maid’s shoulder to still her as she turned her head to look towards the window. The angle was poor, so she ended up walking out of the office entrance to take a look from the top of the stairs. Arrayed below were her requested workforce, but rather than a loose collection of various labourers, they were neatly organized like a company of professional soldiers.

On the road nearest to the sidewalk were forty Bone Vultures, arranged in a rectangle ten wide and four deep. Directly adjacent to their formation was another consisting of twenty Undead Beasts in the form of Boars: they were set five wide and four deep. Behind their lines were one hundred Skeletons armed with round shields and short spears that glistened when breaks in the mostly overcast skies allowed the sun to shine through. Like the Undead Beasts, they were arranged in groups of twenty. At the corner of each of the Skeleton formations, a Death Knight stood where a sergeant would normally be. The Death Knights still held their massive tower shields, but their blades were sheathed. Their weapon hands instead gripped tall banners upon which the vermillion standard of the Sorcerous Kingdom flew proudly in the spring breeze.

Ludmila supposed that if it were a company, then all they lacked was a captain. She stepped down to take a closer look, and as she arrived at the bottom of the stairs, the avenue was filled with a singular noise as the entire group stood to attention. Lady Shalltear appeared at Ludmila’s arm with her dark parasol open over her shoulder, speaking over the stiff breeze that scattered the spring blossoms into the air around them.

“Are they to your liking?” She asked her.

“The numbers check out, my lady,” Ludmila replied. “However, any spectators would think that I am about to go forth to conquer my enemies rather than conquering unruly fields.”

“You have enemies?” Lady Shalltear raised an eyebrow, “That’s hard to imagine considering how unflappable you seem to be.”

“Well, there are types that we are not particularly fond of, but not in the sense that most would consider enemies to be.” Ludmila thought to the wariness that her father held for Count Fassett, “Being Frontier Nobles, House Zahradnik stood apart from the squabbling that occurs in the interior. Our enemies have always ever been those that would infringe upon and act unlawfully within the realm of our liege.”

“If it had been any other of your kind standing here saying that,” Lady Shalltear said, “those words would have felt like lip service, I think.”

“Did I unconsciously use my ability on you, my lady?” Ludmila made to apologize.

“I doubt it,” her liege smiled slightly for some reason. “Undead are immune to mind-affecting spells and abilities.”

Birthright: Act 2, Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Lady Shalltear’s Vampire Brides, Aemilia and the Elder Lich joined them shortly after; each of the three attendants carrying a portion of the books and files that remained after Ludmila finished submitting her forms. Arranged before her was the manifestation of those forms, and Ludmila was now mentally going through the checklist of things that she wanted to have taken care of before the day was over.

The applications that she had filled were meant to provide only raw labour, so the fact that many of the Undead standing in front of her were armed was unexpected. Unfortunately, being armed did not really help with the task she had requisitioned them for. It was up to the applicant leasing the Undead labour to provide the appropriate equipment, though there were a few recommendations that came with them in the provided almanacs. In hindsight, procuring the Undead labour was probably the easier part of what she had to do: it was the exact opposite of what she had originally expected to go through to find new tenants. Though she would still need to find tenants to direct the Undead Labour, the number required was drastically reduced compared to what would have been required before. Ludmila thought that she could at least get things started while she waited for them, and see how things worked for herself. She turned to address Aemilia.

“Luzi, take these things back to the guest house,” she instructed her maid. “Actually, hand me the blue folder first – I’ll be needing that.”

“Yes, my lady,” Aemilia said as she handed over what had been requested.

“I hope you don’t mind my borrowing your servants, Lady Shalltear,” Ludmila said.

“It’s not a problem,” Lady Shalltear replied. “We’re trying to produce results as quickly as possible here.”

Ludmila turned to the Death Knights that had accompanied them.

“Escort Luzi back to the guest house,” she told the one standing on her left, “return with her when she has completed her task.”

Aemilia, who had already started to walk back to the house, overheard that a Death Knight would be coming with her. She darted along the road with the Vampire Brides, walking faster and faster over the cobblestones, but the Death Knight slowly closed in on them despite her efforts.

“I hope no one gets the wrong idea seeing that,” Ludmila remarked as she watched the Death Knight chase the women up the street.

“I thought the goal was to assuage the fears of the citizens, not feed them.”

Ludmila frowned and looked down towards Lady Shalltear, but the Vampire only looked on innocently. Ludmila turned to the Elder Lich.

“Well, I suppose we should get on with the next order of business,” she said. “Will these labourers stay here, or is there somewhere that they can assemble and wait for their equipment?”

“They were instructed to present themselves for inspection in front of the Civil Office,” the Elder Lich answered, “they are under the leaseholder’s authority upon delivery.”

Ludmila looked around absently as she thought of a place to have them wait – leaving them in the main avenue of the central district was probably something that would disrupt traffic if the city was even slightly busy.

“Are they permitted transit through the city on their own?” Ludmila asked.

“They will not be intercepted if they traverse the city in a non-disruptive manner,” the Elder Lich answered.

“Alright then…” She turned to her new labourers, “Head to the Military District, using the main roads. Assemble at the first available mustering field to the west of the south gate and await me there.”

The Bone Vultures all took wing at once, while the other groups of Undead marched away in formation. Ludmila watched with some satisfaction as the formation filed off under her orders.

“That was interesting,” Lady Shalltear noted from beside her. “You didn’t even raise your voice to issue your instructions, but they all heard you over the wind. Considering that you just realized you had these powers...when did you learn how to do that?”

“Just then, my lady.” Ludmila’s voice was a bit bemused as she answered, “I was actually going to raise my voice like those famous captains and generals in the tales that minstrels tell, but when I started speaking, I noticed that even the ones all the way in the back that shouldn’t have heard me had already reacted. So I just spoke normally. In regular circumstances, they should not have heard me, but this ability carried my voice to everyone.”

“Did you know if they would arrive at their destination?” Lady Shalltear said.

“Er…no?” Ludmila looked towards the receding labourers in alarm, “Wait, they won’t?”

“They will, in this case,” Lady Shalltear replied. “As long as they receive their orders, they will perform according to your intent…as long as it is something that they themselves are able to manage without more precise direction. In the worst case, the Death Knights with them will rally any lost Skeletons. You will probably need to show these labourers how to do some uncommon things at some point, since your territory seems to produce goods that are not commonly cultivated in Re-Estize.”

Ludmila breathed a sigh of relief. The last thing she needed was to have inadvertently commanded her newly acquired workforce to rampage through the city on the way to their destination.

“Well then,” she said. “I need to find where my goods have disappeared to now…”

“What happened to them?”

“Before I left Warden’s Vale, Momon threw everything into a hole much like the one that you used yesterday evening.”

“Ah, yes, that was me. Aura and Mare had quite the time catching all those things that suddenly came flying through,” Lady Shalltear smiled at the recollection. "Your goods are in the government warehouses; let’s be on our way.”

Lady Shalltear turned in the direction of the Royal Villa and walked off. Ludmila followed, and the Elder Lich followed after Ludmila. The day had brightened considerably since the morning, with the overcast skies breaking up to reveal the azure heights beyond. A brisk wind was sending the clouds southwards rapidly; she wondered if the rain of the previous night would arrive as snow in Warden’s Vale.

They continued around the Royal Villa and past the gazebo that was used as the location to teleport in and out of. The entrance to the city stores was a fortified and guarded gate tucked away on one side of the central district, where a ramp led down to the vast warehouses had been carved deep into the hill below. The city had furnished it with magical devices that enchanted the entire space with a Preservation effect, which would keep the tremendous volume of siege provisions stored within from spoiling. They passed between the two Death Knights standing guard at the top of the large ramp that led down into the cavernous areas below, steps echoing lightly off of the tunnel-like passage

After two turns, most of the light had been swallowed in darkness, and Ludmila found herself looking at row upon row of shelves that reached all the way to the ceiling, which was perhaps five metres above her head. They were supposed to be filled with the supplies that had been meant for the armies of Re-Estize, but after scanning their contents, she saw that the nearest portion of the warehouse was already being emptied and there were many bare spaces. After passing several aisles, Lady Shalltear stopped and turned to face an aisle to her right.

“The things on the bottom shelf there should be yours,” she pointed down the way a bit, “make sure nothing has…wandered off.”

Ludmila stepped towards where Lady Shalltear was pointing and quickly located the shelf that appeared to have the goods from the warehouse in Warden’s vale. They had taken up a significant portion of the storage space in her home village, but here they only occupied perhaps one third of the bottom shelf of a small fraction of the city warehouse. She felt rather tiny as she checked what she saw against one of the documents in the blue file folder to ensure that everything was in order.

“It looks like everything is here, my lady,” Ludmila called out, “are there problems with theft down here? The security in the city seems overwhelming.”

“I was just making sure,” Lady Shalltear said. “There are no issues with thieves, but samples are sometimes taken for analysis if we find something that might be interesting or different. What do you plan on doing with all this?”

“I need to have it loaded onto a wagon, and then search for someone that is available and willing to purchase these goods.”

“Well none of the ones in the warehouse are being used, so it shouldn’t be an issue. You,” Lady Shalltear addressed the Elder Lich, “submit a request for a wagon from here on behalf of Lady Zahradnik. We’ll pick you up at the civil office on the way out.”

The Elder Lich bowed silently, and walked away towards the entrance.

“I was not aware that they could do that, my lady,” Ludmila said as the tapping of its staff receded into the distance.

“Well, it’s supposed to be your administrative attaché, is it not? I’m pretty sure you Humans do the same thing – sending others that function under your authority.”

“That is correct, my lady,” Ludmila admitted. “I guess my family has just always done most things directly.”

The tread of a Death Knight and the light of a lantern coming from the entrance drew their attention. The four that had left to drop off Ludmila’s files had returned.

“Did you run into any trouble?” Ludmila looked between the members of the group as they arrived, “Actually, how did you even find us? I do not recall mentioning where we would be headed.”

“No, my lady,” Aemilia said, “Lady Shalltear’s attendants appeared to know where you went after we parted. Mrs. Ro’eh asked if you would be having lunch at the house.”

The maid’s question reminded Ludmila of the wholly inadequate breakfast from the morning.

“Hmm…what is she preparing?” She asked.

“She was not aware of any itinerary, my lady – only that you would be out for most of the day,” Aemilia replied, “so it’s a meal that can be packed if necessary.”

“That will be fine,” Ludmila nodded. “Head back to the house and let her know. While you are there, find my scarf and shawl and bring it with lunch – this wind keeps getting stronger. Wait for us in front of the civil office; you should see the Elder Lich waiting for us there as well.”

Aemilia’s head nodded at each instruction. When it seemed that there would be nothing more forthcoming, she curtseyed before them and turned to leave.

“Continue escorting Luzi.”

Ludmila told the Death Knight to maintain its orders, and Aemilia looked at her like she was about to cry.

“Do not run away from your escort this time,” Ludmila instructed her maid, “it looked like you were about to be murdered on the street just now.”

Aemilia’s mouth worked silently as she looked back and forth between her mistress and the Death Knight, her expression asking how she ended up being in the wrong somehow. When it was clear that she would receive no consolation, she sighed and slowly walked off.

“Despite claiming to be used to doing things directly,” Lady Shalltear noted, “you certainly don’t seem to mind running your new staff back and forth.”

“Luzi is aspiring to be my lady’s maid,” Ludmila explained, “but my household currently does not have a page, and the footmen would scare everyone else witless. She should understand this as well as I. Besides, her visibility in the streets in the company of the Death Knight contributes to the idea of safety that we are trying to promote amongst the citizens here, yes?”

“I see. Well,” Lady Shalltear looked over to direct her Vampire Brides, “let’s get these things off the shelf and ready to load on the wagon.”

From the depths of the warehouse, the sound of hooves on stone echoed through the aisles. As her inventory was arranged near the path that ran through the warehouse by Lady Shalltear’s attendants, a wagon drawn by a skeletal horse turned the far corner. Lurid light shone from within its bony frame, which was embraced with sickly yellow-green fog that shimmered and rippled like living flesh as it trotted forward.

The wagon appeared to have no driver, yet it rolled smoothly to a stop in front of them. The Vampire Brides immediately began to place the various articles onto the bed of the wagon in an orderly fashion. Taking in the details of the skeletal horse, Ludmila turned her head towards Lady Shalltear.

“Is this an Undead Beast as well?” She asked, “It seems quite different from the ones that you showed me earlier.”

“This is a Soul Eater,” Lady Shalltear replied. “They are level forty, so substantially more powerful than a simple Undead Beast.”

“This…horse is more powerful than a Death Knight?”

“They have very different sets of traits and abilities which makes them useful for different things, but yes: in rough terms, they are.”

Ludmila envisioned a teamster driving a cart pulled by beings that could destroy a city. What would happen if there was an accident?

“What happens if the cart breaks, or if there is some sort of mishap?”

“Hmm…that hasn’t happened yet,” Lady Shalltear tilted her head in thought, “but it’s strong enough to forcefully drag a broken cart loaded with goods around. I’m not sure if everything will stay on the wagon in that situation though; the wagon itself might break apart.”

Lady Shalltear hopped onto the driver’s bench as the Vampire Brides loaded the last of the goods. The two attendants took their seats at the back of the wagon bed, their pale legs dangling off the edge. Ludmila pulled herself onto the driver’s seat beside Lady Shalltear. The Soul Eater turned its head to look at her with a glowing eye socket.

“Let us pick up the others at the civil office first,” Ludmila said.

The Soul Eater turned its head back and began plodding forward. Ludmila looked over her goods worriedly as the wagon rolled up the ramp, but the shallow incline leading out of the warehouse was not steep enough to cause anything to slide out of the back of a loaded wagon bed. She watched the skeletal horse as it made its way up – pulling a freight wagon was something that normally required large teams of horses, yet this single Undead being did so effortlessly.

They found that the clouds had completely broken since they entered the underground warehouse, and the warmth of the sun was rapidly turning the day pleasant. Free of the need to carefully maneuver through the tight turns leading out of the warehouse, the Soul Eater picked its pace up to a brisk trot, and the noise of its hooves on the cobblestones made it seem like they were being pulled along by a regular horse – at least until one looked at the horse itself.

It took all of two minutes to reach their destination as they circled around the district, finally slowing to pull up in front of the civil office. The trio waiting by the stairs turned their heads at the sound of the wagon’s approach. Aemilia visibly jumped at the sight of the Soul Eater, and she seemed on the verge of panic until her eyes found Ludmila sitting in the front seat with Lady Shalltear. She spotted the other attendants sitting in the back of the wagon and circled around, handing her lunch basket to one of the Vampire Brides so she could pull herself up to join them.

Ludmila took a deep breath and released it in anticipation of what was to come. So far her day had been relatively straightforward with the help of Lady Shalltear and the smooth workings of the new administration. It had all been completed within a single morning: so quickly that the next group of tasks were already upon her before she could fully think through what needed to be done.

“Time for the annoying part,” she muttered to herself.

Birthright: Act 2, Chapter 15

Chapter 15

“You’ve been progressing steadily thus far,” Lady Shalltear picked up on Ludmila’s soft mutter, “why would the next part present any difficulties?”

“The next part involves finding the right people out of all of the citizens that are hiding in their homes,” Ludmila returned to her usual, clear voice, “and I am not quite sure how to accomplish this, my lady. Frontier Nobles are nobles, but we only share some very basic similarities with the nobles of the interior. You mentioned a little while ago about how you believe you are only good for fighting, but I am in something of the same situation as well. I have been trained in all of the things required to carry out House Zahradnik’s duties in defending the border – this would include logistics, organizing and leading armed patrols, as well as managing our small fief, but my skills in administration and commerce are nowhere near as substantial as someone like Baroness Corelyn. Our house does not have much in the way of connections, either.”

“Well what did you do last year, then?” Lady Shalltear asked.

“Our goods were sold to a wholesaler,” Ludmila answered, “merchants who have both the capital and storage to take in large quantities of goods and bide their time to turn a profit meeting the demands of the markets. That way, we would be able to return to our duties on the border within a couple of weeks, after dealing with some other noble functions. However, if the city is like this, not only will it be difficult to find such a merchant, but the markets will have slowed to nothing as well and the prices for everything may not be as projected.”

“So you have to ride around the entire city until you find someone?” Lady Shalltear frowned.

“Perhaps…perhaps not.” Ludmila turned to the Elder Lich, “Are there any markets that are still active in the city?”

“As of this morning, no open market areas have been reported in the city,” the Elder Lich replied. “Emergency supplies are currently being distributed by Lady Shalltear Bloodfallen and her staff in the interim.”

“What about guilds?”

“The Adventurer Guild and Mage Guild are maintaining limited operations.”

“How about the Merchant Guild?”

“There has been no reported activity from the Merchant Guild or any of its associated Trade Guilds in the past week.”

Ludmila bit her lip lightly as she thought about what she could do.

“How does the city procure goods when there is no commerce?” She asked.

The Elder Lich remained silent. Its fingers lightly tapped the leather-bound book that it held to its chest while it pondered her question. Lady Shalltear spoke, filling in for the perplexed attaché.

“The short answer is that we’re not, currently,” she said. “The government warehouse is slowly being depleted over time – you estimated that they would last one year, while the Guardian Overseer’s estimates are closer to two if rationing measures are enforced immediately. She expressed great confidence that E-Rantel would not need to resort to such a policy initially, but with the lack of progress in the past week I believe that she is beginning to consider it as an option.”

Ludmila grimaced. The siege-like nature of their situation felt ever more real with the idea that the people might begin to see their necessities limited.

“Will the city purchase goods while the markets are closed, my lady?”

“The Sorcerous Kingdom guarantees a minimum rate for basic materials,” Lady Shalltear said. “But...they would most likely not be favourable compared to regular market prices. The merchant I spoke of yesterday shouted ‘ridiculous!’ and stormed off, leaving Sebas standing alone in the street with only his good intentions to keep him company.”

“How was he able to trade in the city then?” Ludmila asked.

“I don’t think he did. The following council meeting, it was reported that he spent the day running all around the city’s markets and guilds with no apparent success. He left the city the next morning.”

Ludmila exhaled sharply. She had hoped that information from the lively merchant whom Lady Shalltear had mentioned would lead to a solution to her conundrum as well. With one avenue closed, she decided to pursue another, turning to the Elder Lich once more.

“Do you know where the nobles currently residing in the city are housed?”

The Elder Lich nodded silently.

“We will stop by the nobles’ clubhouse first, then,” Ludmila decided. “After that, we can find the remaining nobles that were not present there – the ones in the city should be in their respective manors here since they are supposedly too frightened to move around much more than that.”

As the wagon rolled forward, the two Death Knights fell in line to either side of the Wagon. The Elder Lich kept pace on the road at Ludmila’s side of the front seat. Lady Shalltear looked up at her from the side.

“You have an idea?”

“Perhaps, my lady,” Ludmila said. “My family was not as well-connected as the other nobles but, since everyone else here is staying put and not doing anything, I was thinking that we might be able to make use of their connections in exchange for a finder’s fee or perhaps a future favour. That is our best chance now, I think.”

It was not long until the wagon pulled up in front of the clubhouse. The ornate building did not show any signs of being occupied from the outside, though this was also the case for the previous evening.

“Luzi, come with me,” she called to her maid sitting behind. “Excuse us while we check if anyone is here first, my lady.”

Ludmila stepped down from the wagon as Lady Shalltear lazily waved her away. Aemilia joined her, stepping ahead to open the doors. They were greeted by an empty reception desk, and the lounge area was vacant as well. There were no odours of food or beverage in the air and the furniture lay pristine and undisturbed. Aemilia went around the halls, returning after a few minutes and shaking her head as she looked towards her.

“Alright,” Ludmila said, “I guess we will have to visit each of them in turn, then.”

After they returned to the wagon, she spoke with her attaché.

“I need to know where all the nobles in the city are staying – beginning with Baroness Clara Odilia Dale Corelyn.”

“Baroness Corelyn resides at guest house number eighteen,” the attaché replied almost immediately.

“Take us there,” she instructed the Soul Eater, “find a corner out of sight of the main entrance to stop, however. If the residents are still fearful, then we should keep their fears out of sight for the time being.”

The wagon rolled forward again with its small entourage.

Not half a minute had passed when the Soul Eater stopped in the service lane that ran along the wall, behind the outer ring of manors which circled the district. Ludmila stepped off of the wagon again, remaining still while Aemilia checked over her appearance. Lady Shalltear came around with her attendants, watching the maid as she worked to fix any flaws in Ludmila’s outfit.

“Have you considered getting enchanted equipment?” Lady Shalltear idly spoke as she observed their activity.

Ludmila turned her head at the question, trying to remain stationary for her maid.

“You mean arms and armour, my lady?”

Magical equipment was far beyond the means of her family, whose meagre fief existed only a little beyond subsistence. The outfit that she currently wore was all that consisted of her formal wardrobe, and even that had been the product of the better part of a year’s worth of hard work; it had required her to sacrifice other things in order to be able to afford it.

“Just daily clothing, in this case,” Lady Shalltear said. “Enchanted items will adjust to fit themselves perfectly to their wearer. They’ll also restore themselves to form unless they completely run out of durability, so you don’t even have to worry about the sort of thing you’re doing right now.”

Aemilia froze upon hearing this; her hands stopped partway while moving to fix a crease in Ludmila’s skirts.

“Is it normal to have magical clothing in your demesne?” Ludmila asked, “Re-Estize has little in the way of magical items. Most of them belong to Adventurers and mages, or are heirlooms of powerful noble houses. What people more commonly see are tools that help with daily life, like magical faucets or the lighting in the city streets.”

“It is. Even the lowest maids have enchanted uniforms, so there is no great fuss concerning maintenance. Nearly my entire wardrobe is enchanted to various degrees,” Lady Shalltear’s voice took on a rare proud note. “Perhaps one day, after you’re successful in your task, I’ll display a few pieces for you.”

“I have never seen enchanted clothing before, my lady, so that would be wonderful. I believe Luzi would be very much interested as well.”

The maid’s hands started working again. A minute passed before she stepped away, indicating that they were ready to move. Ludmila took the blue folder that lay on her wagon seat, and together they made their way around the guest house to the front. The Soul Eater and the Death Knights remained in the service lane, under the shadow of the wall.

Like all of the other manors in the district aside from her own, there was no one stationed to guard the entrance. The manor itself was styled in a similar appearance to all the other guest houses, though there were a few differences in its structure. Aemilia walked ahead to pull the chain for the doorbell and returned to stand behind Ludmila a few metres away from the entrance.

She heard movement coming from inside, but it was a long time before they heard someone walk up to the door. There was the brief sound of a lock tumbling before the entrance opened a sliver, and an almond-shaped eye peeked out. The eye looked from person to person until she recognized Ludmila standing amongst the group.

“Ludmila?” She said suspiciously, “This is not some sort of trick, is it?”

“We just saw each other yesterday Clara,” Ludmila replied, “why would this be a trick?”

There was a short pause as the fearful noblewoman examined her face, followed by a relieved breath as she visibly relaxed and fully opened the door. She was in a simple dress of pastel yellow, and she seemed well enough beyond her nervous countenance.

“Ever since Count Fassett,” she explained, “every time one of us goes to have an audience with the Royal Court, the rest wonder if they will ever return.”

“Have other nobles disappeared like this?” Ludmila’s eyebrow rose.

“At least one other that I know of,” Clara nodded, “then a little while ago, Baron Hamel was looking out of his window and started shouting about how some poor women were being run down in the street by the Undead. I could not even bear the thought, never mind look out to see. When the doorbell sounded, I thought it was the end for us.”

Baron Hamel? Ludmila tried attaching a face to the name, but came up short. However, she spotted the face of the boy she had left in the clubhouse the previous evening poking his head around the corner of the corridor further within the manor.

“Clara,” now it was Ludmila’s turn to be suspicious, “why is Baron Hamel in your manor?”

Clara noticed Ludmila looking past her shoulder and quickly turned her head to look behind her as the mop of sandy blond hair disappeared back around the corner.

“That’s…erm, the Baron has taken up residence in the neighboring manor, and we have neighboring fiefs as well. We already knew each other from before, and he wanted to stay over because he was scared to be alone.”

“I see,” Ludmila’s voice was flat.

“Nothing untoward has happened!” Clara’s amethyst eyes looked at her innocently, “It is just comforting to be with others with everything that has gone on recently. Besides, we followers of The Six have our own ways, yes?”

Ludmila supposed that Clara was correct: as followers of The Six, they had their own approach to selecting consorts. Still, harmful rumors might come out of it.

“What of your servants?”

“We do not have any! All the ones that were offered by the city were not in a state to work at all.” Clara laughed nervously, “Housework has been quite the adventure–wait, how do you have servants out and about?”

“They just needed a bit of confidence, I think.” Ludmila replied, “You should try and encourage them some time.”

Lady Corelyn gave her a strange look, not understanding the meaning of her words.

“Also one of the women with the Death Knight was probably my maid Luzi here,” Ludmila continued, “I sent her on a few errands with an escort.”

Clara’s mouth fell open.

“Y-you command these Undead now?” She asked.

“The Death Knights are on loan from His Majesty as footmen for my household,” Ludmila answered. “They are remarkably competent, actually.”

The fearful expression appeared on Clara’s face again and she looked all around, as if expecting Undead to be hiding around every corner. Ludmila stood to the side, allowing her a clear view of the street in front of her home. She calmed down again after seeing that there were no horrors lurking about.

Lady Shalltear lightly cleared her throat, and Ludmila proceeded to the matter at hand.

“I have come on official business, however,” she said. “Do you have some time to spare?”

“Oh, of course,” Clara’s eyes shifted over to Lady Shalltear, then back to Ludmila, “but who is this beautiful girl?”

Ludmila straightened, realizing that she had been rude to not introduce her liege first.

“Apologies for my rudeness in not introducing her beforehand,” Ludmila turned to present Lady Shalltear, “this is Lady Shalltear Bloodfallen, Minister of Transportation.”

Clara’s mouth was agape again.

“A-a Royal Councilor? Here?!” She immediately dropped into a deep curtsey, “Welcome to my residence, Lady Minister. Baroness Clara Odilia Dale Corelyn, at your service.”

“You have never seen Lady Shalltear before?” Ludmila asked curiously, “I thought all of the other nobles had an audience with the Royal Court upon their arrival in the city.”

“She might have been there, I-I am not sure,” beads of sweat formed on Clara’s brow. “There were…others there, and I was scared witless. They sent me away and I can barely remember anything about the audience. A-anyways, I am being rude. Allow me to entertain you in the parlour; we have some refreshments…biscuits that were delivered earlier today. We have water as well, as long as you do not mind the charred flavour.”

“We are in a bit of a hurry, actually,” Ludmila said as she glanced sidelong to Lady Shalltear, “I need to borrow your merchant contacts in the city.”

“Merchants? I don’t think your demesne uses the same merchants as ours does, does it?”

Clara was right; the territories on the gentle slopes of the Riverlands cultivated vast vineyards and orchards which went into the desserts, jams and liquors produced in the territory.

“Anything is fine at this point,” Ludmila said. “Even if they cannot help directly, they might know someone who can. How about blacksmiths – toolmakers and the like?”

“We have a village blacksmith that does nearly everything,” Clara replied. “Merchants passing on the highway to and from the Theocracy sell us raw materials and everything else, usually.”

After they received what information Baroness Corelyn could provide, Ludmila thanked her and they started walking back to the wagon.

“Writing with a stick of charcoal seems a bit inconvenient,” Lady Shalltear remarked as Ludmila wiped her hands on a handkerchief.

“Carrying an ink bottle around would be a mess waiting to happen, my lady,” Ludmila said as she settled back on the driver’s bench.

“I can lend you a pen, if you’d like,” Lady Shalltear held out her hand, and an elegant-looking instrument appeared in her fingers, “you're going to have charcoal stains everywhere by the time we’ve gotten all the information we need.”

“This is…a fountain pen?” Ludmila tried writing with it, and her letters came out smoothly. “Thank you Lady Shalltear…or is it Lady Bloodfallen?”

“My vassals usually address me as Lady Shalltear, so what you’ve been using is acceptable.”

The next house they came to was occupied by Count Völkchenheim and, to Ludmila’s surprise, the door opened shortly after they came calling. A tall, middle-aged man with a rough appearance appeared in the doorway, holding a long bronze candlestick in one hand. Something about the image he projected tugged at the edge of Ludmila’s recognition.

“Oya?” After noticing that it was not some monster that had come to the door, he placed the candlestick aside and his face brightened, “To what does House Völkchenheim owe the pleasure of such beautiful young ladies today?”

“Count Völkchenheim?” Ludmila asked while still attempting to place his appearance.

“Ah, no,” the man hastily denied the appellation, “I am Andrei, a retainer of the Count – currently serving as his valet.”

His movements and mannerisms finally came together in Ludmila’s mind.

“A Ranger?”

“Why yes, young miss,” he replied with some surprise, “how did you know?”

Ludmila felt a bit of a twinge. Völkchenheim County was not a frontier territory, but they had been forced to take up arms to defend themselves as the frontier territories that were supposed to be holding the wilderness at bay slowly collapsed. Demihuman raids on their territory were not severe, due to their distance to the border ranges, but it was still something of an unasked-for burden.

“I am Baroness Ludmila Zahradnik,” she introduced herself then motioned to her right, “this is Lady Shalltear Bloodfallen, Minister of Transportation. We are here to speak with Count Völkchenheim.”

Andrei’s face paled as the titles rolled out of Ludmila’s mouth.

“Forgive my rudeness, Lady Bloodfallen, Lady Zahradnik,” he hurriedly bowed, his voice rising in apology as he bent at nearly a perpendicular angle. “I will call for the Count–please, come in and take a seat in the patio garden…”

His speech slowed as he looked to be deciding whether he should be seating the Count’s visitors, informing the Count of his guests, or dividing himself in half to accomplish both tasks at once.

“We won’t be long – we just require some information from Count Völkchenheim,” Ludmila spoke to eliminate his indecision. “It will be fine for us to wait here.”

He gave them one last, conflicted look before leaving the doorway behind and disappearing around a corner. They heard him shouting for the Count, then he seemed to cut himself off realizing that he was shouting for a noble in the presence of other nobles.

“Well, he certainly seems quite different,” Lady Shalltear mused.

“He carries himself like a frontiersman,” Ludmila said, “To be honest with you, I am more used to that sort of conduct than I am this whole dance of etiquette that the inner nobles conduct.”

“Perhaps you should act more like yourself then?” Her liege suggested, “There’s no need to put on airs with me.”

“I am acting like myself,” Ludmila replied, “at least how I act in an urban, public setting. The villagers I am used to are the ones that act like him…also my brothers…and my father.”

“Are you saying you’re the only person in your entire Barony that acts like this?”

“Well, yes,” Ludmila paused for a moment. “Though my mother did so as well; everyone says I take after her. Even though we were a remote border territory, she always behaved in a manner that suggested we were more than that and everyone around her was influenced as a result. Thanks to you, my lady, I understand why she did this now.”

“So when you’re out in your own territory, you speak more like this fellow?”

“Not exactly, my lady,” Ludmila replied. “Well, perhaps more informally. My conduct, however, would be unacceptable in the city according to Luzi here.”

The maid reacted to being named, but stayed silent. There was a thumping of heavy footsteps as someone came down the stairs, followed by a shadow in the light of the courtyard inside. A young man appeared in the hall, looking very much like he had rushed to dress and groom himself. Somewhat winded, he came forward, but stopped partway down the hall to stare at his visitors. Then, he turned right back around and disappeared behind the corner that he had come from.

Ludmila thought she could hear some fierce whispering, and after several moments, the young man appeared again. Additional effort had been made to fix his appearance, though his outfit still held creases from where it had probably been haphazardly thrown somewhere and left for hours. He came forward stiffly with his greetings.

“Torkel Karan Dale Völkchenheim,” he made an exaggerated bow as he introduced himself, “Count of Völkchenheim.”

“Baroness Ludmila Zahradnik,” Ludmila curtseyed, then rose and swept her arm out to present Lady Shalltear, “Lady Shalltear Bloodfallen, Minister of Transportation.”

“How may I be of service, my ladies?”

Count Völkchenheim’s eyes kept bouncing back and forth between all of the women arrayed before him, before his gaze finally settled on Lady Shalltear.

Behind him, Ludmila thought she saw Andrei roll his eyes.

Birthright: Act 2, Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Thirty minutes later, Ludmila slouched in a daze on the wagon. More so than any work she had done during the day so far, the half hour with Count Völkchenheim had been stressful and draining.

“Say, my lady,” she asked tiredly, “was Count Völkchenheim using some sort of ability?”

Lady Shalltear, who had assumed her seat beside her, shrugged.

“Who knows, I didn’t feel anything.”

“You said mind-affecting abilities have no effect on you, did you not?”

The Vampire shrugged again, and Ludmila groaned.

“Fine, whatever.” She tried to perk herself back up, turning to the Elder Lich, “Who do we have next?”

“Baron Victor Beyron Dale Ardoin, guest house twenty-three.”

“Lady Shalltear…” Ludmila began tentatively.

“Yes?”

“Maybe I should just go with Luzi for the next one.”

“Did I just hear ‘wait in the wagon’?”

“Thirty minutes, my lady!” Ludmila complained, “It took thirty minutes to get what we needed out of that overeager–rrgh! Lady Corelyn only took five!”

It had all started innocuously enough.

Lord Völkchenheim had been all courtesy and smiles, eager to listen to what their request was. Except he kept trying to invite them in for tea. Or lunch. Or to gaze upon the beauty of the gardens or ‘discuss the future’. The young man was around the age of Ludmila’s brothers, so she had expected maybe something, but her patience quickly wore thin. He wouldn’t take his eyes off of Lady Shalltear, all the while constantly fixing his posture, straightening his clothing or trying to pat down an imagined tuft of unruly hair that wasn’t actually there – which had the effect of further undoing the efforts of his hurried grooming with every attempt.

Whenever any of Ludmila’s questions finally got through to him, he wouldn’t turn to respond – he would simply speak as he gazed at Lady Shalltear, spewing forth copious amounts of archaic, flowery language while listing addresses and names in an effort to impress his eloquence upon her. Lady Shalltear simply smiled, leaving Ludmila to do all the talking as she observed the exchange. It had become infuriating to the point that she itched to reach out with both of her arms and twist his head over to actually look at the person with whom he was conversing with.

She held back – as a Baron could hardly raise their hand against a Count – but, in that moment, she thought if there was ever a reason to advance in court politics, it would be to gain the authority to act against those that had taken leave of their senses. In the end, she had mentally limped away from Völkchenheim’s residence, with his valet Andrei looking on apologetically.

“At this rate,” Ludmila muttered darkly, “we will not be done collecting contacts until tomorrow evening. Your appearance is simply too dazzling, Lady Shalltear.”

“I could change forms,” she offered. “I’m nice and calm again, but all I’d need is a little bit of blood to help me set things off.”

“They would collapse before answering anything.”

“Then how about I just dominate them?”

“Using magic to procure statements is treated as collecting information under duress, my lady,” Ludmila said. “It is illegal under the Crown Laws and a violation of common regional conventions.”

“I broke a law of the Sorcerous Kingdom back in the civil office?” Lady Shalltear turned her head to look up at Ludmila.

“I said what I was going to say anyways, my lady, so I will not press charges.”

“Well it’s a silly Human law anyways,” Lady Shalltear sniffed dismissively, “we should have it changed.”

Ludmila looked over at Lady Shalltear incredulously. She had drawn her fan from somewhere and now held it open in front of her face with a coquettish look in her eyes.

“No,” Ludmila said flatly. “People will think that you are flirting with them if you do that. Well…maybe if you drop the look it might work.”

The crimson eyes behind the fan seemed to droop a bit.

“We should move on to the next manor,” Ludmila ordered the Soul Eater to their next destination, “Count Völkchenheim has taken up too much of our valuable time.”

Fortunately, Baron Ardoin had not turned out to be the next Count Völkchenheim – perhaps he would have, if he hadn’t been twelve years old – and they were able to get some of the information that they needed in a few minutes after he had been coaxed to open his door to speak to them. By the middle of the afternoon, they had visited all of the nobles that were currently residing in the city and Ludmila looked over the long list of names and addresses, trying to determine their best prospects.

Countess Jezne was particularly helpful, pointing out a couple of ‘especially hard-headed lumber merchants’. Ludmila thought to start there as they rolled out of the administrative district while she munched on the sandwich Aemilia had handed to her for the short trip. The food had been left for so long that the sauce Terah made soaked into one side of the bread, which just so happened to suit her tastes.

As the wagon slowly trundled through the city streets, she spotted a few onlookers peeking out of their windows at the noise before they vanished at the sight of the Undead in their entourage. The roads were still empty of citizens, but it was more life than she had seen on the main streets the evening before. The thoroughfares of the common area, while paved, were rougher than the well-maintained cobblestone pavement of the central district, so the long freight wagon occasionally bounced and stuttered as it ran over the cracks and holes in the street.

A few Elder Liches flew by overhead, looking down at the noise of the wagon. They were nearly indistinguishable in appearance from her attaché, so she wondered whether it could fly as well. It wasn’t until she looked down at its feet that she realized it had been quietly floating alongside the entire time as it took notes in its leather tome. The footmen following after the wagon continued their heavy tread, and she could hear Aemilia in the back of the wagon continuing in her efforts to converse with the Vampire Brides.

Once Ludmila completed her meal and put away the basket, she turned to Lady Shalltear to speak.

“My lady, does the Sorcerous Kingdom have any ships?” She asked.

“Hmm…maybe?” Lady Shalltear said, “I’d have to check back home. The Underground Lake should have a few, but I’m not sure if we can lend those to anyone. Why do you ask?”

Ludmila had no idea where the ‘Underground Lake’ was, but explained her situation anyways.

“Have you tried searching for it?” Lady Shalltear asked after listening to her issue, “If it’s a ship, it should still be somewhere along the river, shouldn’t it?”

“The land route from Warden’s Vale to the western highway doesn’t follow the river,” Ludmila said, “so we did not have the opportunity to look for it on the way here.”

“I can send a few members of my Household to check the river while you try to find merchants for your goods,” Lady Shalltear offered.

“I would greatly appreciate the assistance, my lady.”

A small swarm of black bats appeared from the shadows on the road, chittering and fluttering over their heads.

“What does this boat look like?” Lady Shalltear asked.

“A ship with a single sail,” Ludmila said. “As far as I know it is the only large vessel that operates on the river.”

Upon hearing her rough description, the bats veered southwards and disappeared over the shingled rooftops of the city. The Soul Eater continued driving the wagon, down the gentle incline of the main streets as they rode further from the city centre. Eventually, the road opened up into the main plaza, which was the largest of the open spaces that dotted the city and the closest one to the gate of the administrative district.

To their right was a cathedral and, to the north of it, the Adventurer Guild. Both buildings appeared to be open, as opposed to the many others bordering the plaza with their shuttered windows and sealed doors. She did not see any Adventurers in front of the Guild, nor did there appear to be anyone around the cathedral. Looking at it, she was reminded of Bohdan who had led the villagers south into the Theocracy; she wondered how they were faring in the foreign land, and how she might be able to have them return now that it seemed that their flight had been a needless one.

The wagon continued following the street, crossing between the large fountain in front of the temple and a tall column which dominated the plaza. Streetlamps were set apart evenly around the square, and Ludmila noticed many conspicuously open spaces where market stalls of various sizes should have been. The empty state of the city plaza seemed especially lonely, now that she knew that the buildings all around were most likely fully occupied, their tenants too fearful to leave their homes.

The Soul Eater turned after passing the fountain, cutting across to where the street left the plaza from its southwest corner. They traveled several more blocks until the wagon turned into an alley to stop beside one of the branches of the Merchant Guild. The building looked no more promising than those around it. The windows on the main floor were not simply shuttered like the ones on the second and third floors, but boarded in an effort to prevent the looting that often accompanied a hostile occupation. The hollow in which the door stood was shadowed and unwelcoming.

“I don’t hear anyone inside.” Lady Shalltear noted.

“...you can hear inside this locked-up building?” Ludmila looked at her.

“Yes. I don’t have any specific skills in search or detection, but I do have keen senses – especially when it comes to certain scents and hearing in general.”

“How are you not driven to distraction listening to thousands of people all around you in any given part of the city?”

“The same as anyone else, perhaps,” Lady Shalltear shrugged. “Do you have trouble with your perception when you are in a crowded street? Let’s keep going.”

They made several more stops, finding those buildings unresponsive or empty as well, before finally reaching an address that appeared to be occupied. It was the home of one of the merchants that Countess Jezne had noted was ‘especially hard-headed’. When the Soul Eater stopped in the alley beside the wattle and daub house, she saw that there was a gate that looked to be an entrance to a large lumberyard. Ludmila peered between the bars of the gate: beyond, it looked like the yard had been mostly emptied. There was a man walking around the few remaining piles of timber with a board in hand.

Ludmila stepped down and went to stand outside the gate, but couldn’t see any chain to pull or bell to ring. She rattled the gate to get his attention, but either he was too far to hear, or too hard of hearing to notice. She finally resorted to using her newly-learned ability.

“Gareth Boyce.”

She spoke at a normal volume, but the man jumped with a startled shout anyways, looking all about him for the source of the voice. For some reason, the gate where they stood was the last place he turned to. He hobbled forward, scratching his head. He was perhaps in his fifties, with leathery sun-baked skin over his tall and wiry form. His skinny neck, sharp nose and nest of unruly and fading red hair made Ludmila think of a woodpecker. He peered through the gate at the women assembled on the other side.

“This is a lumber yard,” he called out far too loudly for the short distance between them, “not a boutique.”

“I would not have called you by name if I did not know where I was,” Ludmila replied.

“Fair enough, miss,” the man conceded, “what can I do for you? As you may have noticed, there’s not much to buy here. The Royal Army bought up most of it during the winter. Not that it did them any good.”

“What do you have left in inventory?”

“The expensive stuff, mostly,” he immediately replied. “The army took all the cheap timber for firewood. There were some things that needed fixing in the military district as well when they came in at first.”

Ludmila winced. Most of the timber that had been chosen for delivery to the capital from Warden’s Vale were luxury goods that usually fetched a high price. There was no helping it, however.

“I’ve brought a wagon with several tons of timber to sell,” she said as he continued to stand across the gate from them. “Countess Jezne recommended you to me as someone that would continue to operate even with the city as it is right now.”

“Countess Jezne? Her boy is gone then…that’s a damn shame. That old harpy was right though, up to a point,” the gate rattled as he stepped forward to unlock the heavy padlock holding the gate chained shut. “Can’t do any business with an empty yard.”

The last of the links slid off with a clatter, and Gareth pulled the gate open after hanging up the chains. He dusted his hands off as he stepped into the alley.

“Alright then,” he said, “let’s see what you have.”

Ludmila waved her hand to the Soul Eater at the entrance of the alley, and it brought the wagon forward.

“My driver is bringing the wagon in,” she warned Gareth, “you may want to step out of the way.”

The Soul Eater deftly brought the long wagon into the dusty lumber yard from the narrow alley, making a small loop to face the gate. Gareth backed away wide eyed as it did so, hurriedly stepping well out of its path. Aemilia and the Vampire Brides hopped off of the back of the wagon after it stopped. The two Death Knights stayed to stand watch at the entrance of the alley to the street, and Ludmila did not see the Elder Lich anywhere until she looked up and saw that it had flown high above them. The ghostly figure of an Imp sat on a portion of the fence a few paces away, intently looking down at her.

Ludmila leafed through her folder, locating the page listing the timber inventories that had been transported to the city. She stepped over to the owner of the lumber yard, who was still standing a short distance away in the alley.

“This should be everything related to your business,” Ludmila proffered the sheet of paper, “let us know what you can offer for it.”

Gareth absently took the sheet and looked down to read it. As his eyes scanned over the inventory, his brows furrowed as he turned his head back up to look at the wagon. The man hobbled back into the lumber yard, circling around the wagon to look inside. His pace slowed somewhat when he encountered Aemilia and the Vampire Brides; after a moment he shook his head, muttering something unintelligible as he pulled himself up into the back of the wagon.

They watched him work from the ground behind the wagon – he slowly tracked over the wagon bed, occasionally leaning over to run his hand over the tree trunks or kneel to inspect their cross sections. When he reached the front of the wagon, he stopped to look over two trees that appeared to have been kept whole. He leaned over to rub his hand over one of the smaller branches, bringing his palm up to his face. He shook his head once again while muttering to himself.

Ludmila took a step back to give Gareth room to come down from the wagon, looking at him expectantly.

“Where do you come from, young miss?” The lumber merchant kept his eyes on the inventory sheet, running them down the list again.

“Zahradnik Barony,” she replied simply.

“So that’s where that bastard got his stock…” Gareth was half-muttering again, then noticed the questioning looks he was getting. “You came with Jezne’s recommendation, so I figured you for the daughter of some magnate from her territory learning the family trade. We haven’t gotten any new timber all winter, and the merchant inventories are all dried up.”

The merchant pulled a stick of charcoal out from behind his ear and started to scribble on the paper.

“Anyways,” he didn’t look up as he wrote, “there’s another guy in the guild who always turned up with all the expensive stuff like you have here. Kept it all hush hush – he was pretty proud that he could produce wood that no one else was able to. We all thought he was undergoing some reckless operation; all of the timber you have in your wagon doesn’t grow around E-Rantel.”

“It doesn’t?” Ludmila was familiar with her own territory, but wasn’t sure of other places in the duchy.

“Nope,” he said, “too wet, or not warm enough. Jezne County exports a lot of timber, but it’s the type used for regular construction, mostly. Everything here should be from the southern slopes of the border ranges or even further. That’s why we thought he was doing something risky – hiring Adventurers and the like to guard his teams while they harvested in Demihuman-infested lands. Turns out that he probably got it from you folks.”

“Where is this merchant now?”

“Gone. He got pretty rich trading this for years on top of all of his other business – we all thought he was including the overhead for everything needed to safely get this inventory, but seems like it was pure profit for him. He pulled up his roots and moved to some nice city in the north of the Empire to retire with his family before the winter.”

“I see…so what is it actually worth?”

Ludmila was sure she wouldn’t like where this seemed to be leading. Gareth finished writing on the inventory sheet, and handed it back to her.

“Like I was saying before,” he said, “the army cleaned out all the cheap lumber to use, so I need to restock on that for whenever business picks up again – you don’t have any here, though. You have a lot of Rosewood; but that ain’t what we need now. It’s used for good furniture, expensive paneling and fixtures – fancy doors, windows, railings and the like. Carvings, perfumes and instruments as well. I can take it off your hands, but I can’t give you last year’s prices for it; it’ll take a long time to use it all up with the way things are, or maybe I’ll have to find a buyer for it elsewhere…if caravans will even come to the city any more.”

Ludmila couldn’t help but frown, the Rosewood logs were two-thirds of her timber.

“You’ll have a shortage of it soon, I think.” Lady Shalltear spoke from beside her.

“Oh? And who might you be, young miss?” Gareth folded his arms over his chest.

Ludmila wasn’t sure what results the man’s casual attitude would produce, so she interjected on her behalf quickly.

“Lady Shalltear is a close confidante of the King,” she told him. “I have not heard anything about this though. What did you mean by this, my lady?”

“‘Close confidante…’”

Lady Shalltear repeated the words, her expression turned strangely loose. After a moment, she realized that there were others watching her and she straightened her face, clearing her throat lightly.

“The section of the city containing the slums has been cleared out and cordoned off, by order of the Guardian Overseer. It’s being torn down as we speak.”

“Why would she do that?” Ludmila had a worried expression, “thousands of people live in that part of the city – where will they go?”

“Because it is a monument to failure,” Lady Shalltear spoke sternly. “Or at least that’s how the Guardian Overseer described it. Its very existence is offensive, a mark of shame against those of the previous administration. The leaders of this city were charged with its management, and the fact that such a construct had manifested is proof of their failure at doing so in a fully productive manner. Pending certain results, the displaced population will be relocated to the rural regions to work the lands to the northeast that have been abandoned in the past year. For the time being, they are being housed in other parts of the city and provided for.”

“That’s big talk, lady,” Gareth’s voice was grim as he digested her words. “I’m no great lord, but from where I stand, that’s something not even Lord Rettenmeier could do with the old king’s support. So what does this have to do with the shortage you’re talking about? You all plan on building something?”

“That’s right,” if Lady Shalltear took offense to the merchant’s attitude, it did not show. “The entire city quarter is to be repurposed into an area for Demihumans, and it will be fashioned in such a way that those with various needs not provided by Human accommodations can live there comfortably. You will not want for demand in the near future.”

Gareth was silent as he considered her words, shifting slightly on his feet. When he looked to have made up his mind, he turned and looked about to spit on the ground, but decided against it in the presence of all the women.

“Fine,” he said. “If your tip turns out, it’ll be busier than I’ve ever seen in my life. I’ll have to let the guild know as well, there’s no way I can keep up with just my yard.”

“Then the Rosewood…” Ludmila said tentatively.

“Last year’s prices,” Gareth told her. “It’s still a lot to use up – we’re going to need a lot more of the timber that’s needed for construction, if you’ll let Countess Jezne know. The Ironwood I’ll gladly take as well; the army took that to use for their weapons. I won’t take the Sandalwood though, that’d be a waste – you’re better off selling it elsewhere.”

“Where should I go with it?” Ludmila was barely keeping up with the change in direction, “Do you know anyone that would buy it?”

Gareth snorted derisively.

“If they’re as old as they look, the Alchemists and the Jewelers will be fighting each other over who gets to buy it. So, do we have a deal?”

“This is fine, I think…”

Though the prices that he offered were attractive, Ludmila wasn’t really certain whether they were correct or not. However, she didn’t think she had much of a choice with the city as it was.

“Good, I hate haggling.” Gareth turned and shouted in the direction of his home, “Boy!”

His voice echoed off the alley wall, carrying over the roofs nearby.

“BOY! ...Gods damn it. Half a man and he’s still jumping at shadows. I’ll be back with my seal,” Gareth limped off in the direction of his house “Boy! There’s some pretty girls in the yard waiting for you!”

With a loud bang, the back door of Gareth’s house slammed shut behind him.

Birthright: Act 2, Chapter 17

Chapter 17

While the lumber merchant was away in his house, Ludmila directed one of her footmen to unload the wagon, arranging the Rosewood and Ironwood logs into separate piles. As Gareth’s muffled shouts continued to sound from within his home, she held up the sheet that he had handed back to her. She had struggled to maintain a neutral expression after seeing the merchant’s revised quote. She wasn’t sure if she was successful in the attempt, but now her expression went from anger to whimsy and back again.

“That’s an interesting show you’re putting on there,” Lady Shalltear noted. “I honestly can’t tell if you’re pleased or displeased.”

“I am satisfied with Mr. Boyce’s offer, my lady,” Ludmila explained, “but the value of the timber has connotations that make me furious.”

“If that’s you being furious, I think I was right about you transforming into a Golem.”

“I will not act inappropriately in public,” Ludmila sighed, “but I really do want to strangle this merchant my family has been dealing with all these years.”

Lady Shalltear turned to look up at her, head tilted curiously.

“That sounds more like something that I should be doing,” the chime in her voice was at odds with the violent nature of her quip. “What is it that drives the very picture of Human composure to such anger?”

“These numbers here represent last year’s market prices,” she turned her inventory-sheet-turned-invoice towards the inquisitive Vampire. “They are seven times higher than what we were offered by the merchant last year for the same timber.”

“It seems that you were cheated,” Lady Shalltear said.

“Yes! Well, no. Not exactly.” Ludmila quickly corrected herself, “Mr. Boyce said that this merchant included the costs of an Adventurer escort and labour, presumably to keep up the image that it was his own venture and he was shouldering all of the risk. A party of Adventurers powerful enough to force their way through the southern wilderness and maintain a safe environment for this sort of operation should be at least Mithril rank. The cost of having a party of Mithril rank escorts for weeks at a time was assumed to be a part of the market price listed here.”

Lady Shalltear stared blankly at Ludmila’s words. Ludmila attempted to expand on them, and in doing so she became increasingly annoyed.

“There was little risk for this merchant,” she said. “Minimal investment with no venture. Like Mr. Boyce said, it was pure profit for him and he had us all dancing to his tune. It is a surprise that no one in the Merchant Guild even checked with the Adventurer Guild to see if there was actually a Mithril-ranked Adventurer team holding such long contracts. He saw an opportunity and gambled on the hope that no one would catch on to his scheme, and he won. I can’t even blame him, even though I feel like it – we all willingly accepted his business without question, so in the end we cheated ourselves. I have been helping out with demesne business for several years now, and this possibility only occurred to me after Mr. Boyce essentially wrote it down and handed it over. I am just as guilty of this same oversight that has been plaguing my House.”

“How long have you been dealing with this merchant?” Lady Shalltear asked.

“That’s the worst part. My father had been doing business with this man since before I was born,” she felt her voice taking on a tinge of anger, “this has probably been going on for generations.”

“Generations? Was this merchant an Elf?”

“No, that’s not what I meant,” Ludmila said. “It has to do with these market prices. Look at the numbers.”

“I don’t know how you value things around here. Is it that much more than it should be?”

“That is a colossal understatement,” Ludmila wanted to laugh ruefully. “Warden’s Vale would be at least a large town supporting dozens of villages throughout the barony if we had these prices for the last century. We would have been able to grow so quickly, developing more land and expanding our holdings. Even if the other Frontier Nobles had lost their fiefs, we could have simply fortified the entire border on our own with the growth that these numbers represent. Well, that is perhaps slightly optimistic, but with that length of time, House Zahradnik might have been as prosperous as the nobility of the interior. Instead, we simply scraped by in our ignorance for generations, content with our simple lives when we could have been performing our duties so much more effectively.”

“The way you put it, it really does sound miserable,” Lady Shalltear said. “You’re sure you don’t want revenge on this merchant? I could help you hunt him down, and we can make him suffer slowly for his wrongdoings. It would be quite satisfying, yes?”

Aemilia, who had come to see what her mistress’ fuming was about, nodded energetically to her side.

“I agree! I can’t believe such good people could have this happen to them.” She balled up her fist and held it up with a fierce expression, “We should find him and get payback.”

This time Ludmila did laugh, albeit softly. The image of her unexpectedly vicious lady’s maid who was deathly afraid of the Undead teaming up with a powerful Vampire was too ridiculous.

“No,” Ludmila shook her head. “It is not worth pursuing now, and he is only one of many merchants that probably took advantage of our blind trust. Now that I know, I will figure out how to prevent this in the future. I can only move forward now and work on transforming Warden’s Vale into what it was always meant to be.”

After the words passed from her lips, Ludmila felt embarrassment creep up her neck at how she must have sounded, considering she had yet to really do anything herself. However, Lady Shalltear gave her a look of appraisal while Aemilia’s eyes sparkled at the statement. The loud sound of the house door being shut dispelled the atmosphere, though, with Gareth hobbling out towards them with a gangly youth.

The ‘boy’ who had been described as ‘half a man’ was near full grown, perhaps one or two years from being considered an adult. He had a similar enough appearance to the lumber merchant, though the boy was still all arms and legs. Upon seeing the group of women, he kept looking back and forth while blushing vividly – his father seemed to have the right idea about what would entice him to leave their home.

“Sorry for the wait,” Gareth held up a small block of wood that appeared to be a stamp. “I’ll just stamp that there and you can head over to the Guild for your payment.”

“Thank you,” Ludmila said as she received the stamped invoice, “do you know which Merchant Guild branches are still doing business?”

“That’s a good question,” the lumber merchant scratched his chin. “Your best bet is probably the head office in the main plaza. You should get the rest of your inventory settled first though, so you can get paid out all at once.”

“That seems reasonable enough.”

“Right. It’ll be a bit to offload your cargo so you might want to check out some of the shops nearby…ah, what am I saying, no one’s open.” Gareth turned and shouted, “Boy! Quit your gawking and roll out the gantry.”

Gareth’s boy jumped at his father’s voice, blinking a few times before pointing to the ground at the log piles. After seeing all the cargo neatly laid on the ground, the older merchant swung around, looking back and forth between the women in the yard.

“How the–”

“My footmen offloaded the cargo while you were in the house.” Ludmila explained as she directed the Soul Eater to take the wagon back out of the yard, “they are back out of the alley now.”

“Footmen strong enough to carry logs like that, huh. Retired Adventurers? Well, you ladies would want at least that much to feel safe travelling around the city, I suppose.”

While their attendants filed out with the wagon as it left the yard, Ludmila remained to ask a question.

“I will probably return with more timber,” she said to the lumber merchant, “will you be available to do business in the near future?”

“Hmph,” Gareth grunted. “If what the lady here says is true, it’ll be a seller’s market soon enough. But yes, I’ll be here if you need me.”

“I will be sure to drop by again,” Ludmila paused. “By the way – what happened with your leg? Have you had the priests take a look at it?”

“Nah, it’s an old injury, back from when I was a lumberjack,” his tone was dismissive as he replied. “Damn tree fell the wrong way for no reason – must have gotten on the bad side of a damn Dryad or something. I was too stubborn to go back to town and have a priest look at it, and my leg ended up healing funny. That’s how I ended up in this business – priests said there’s nothing to be done about it after I finally did get around to visiting a temple.”

Ludmila looked to Lady Shalltear.

“Is that true, my lady?” She asked.

“No,” the Cleric replied.

“You saying the priests lied, lady?” Gareth frowned and narrowed his eyes.

“Probably not on purpose, no. Let’s just say the solution would be what you consider ‘inhuman’.”

Gareth had a sour expression on his face. He shifted his weight around several times before speaking again.

“Out with it then, lady. How can the priests fix my leg after it’s already been healed up?”

“They can destroy your leg,” Lady Shalltear’s words came out simply, “and regenerate a new one.”

Both Gareth and his boy blanched at the casually offered solution.

“That’s some evil thing you’re saying, lady,” the lumber merchant said in subdued tones.

“From a certain point of view, I suppose.” Lady Shalltear smiled slightly, “If an ally loses a limb in the heat of combat, a Cleric would most certainly act to heal their injuries – if it was within their capacity to do so.”

She pointed her finger at Gareth’s leg.

“You are injured,” she told him. “If nothing is done, you will carry that injury with you for the rest of your life. Should your priests not endeavour to relieve you of your hardship? Or is your suffering such a good thing that it would be evil to relinquish you of it?”

The lumber merchant stared at the point of Lady Shalltear’s finger, wrapped in its white silken glove, for a long while. He swallowed loudly before speaking again.

“I’ll see what the priests have to say,” he said.

“You do that. I would be most interested in hearing their answer.”

Lady Shalltear turned to exit the lumber yard and Ludmila followed after her, leaving Gareth Boyce alone in the yard with his boy.

Birthright: Act 2, Chapter 18

Chapter 18

The wagon rumbled down the street while Ludmila looked through her lumber invoice, reevaluating the calculations that she had made for the development of her demesne. The dramatic difference between the figures she thought she would have to work with and the actual market value of her goods forced her to rethink all of her budgeting. She no longer needed to worry about being able to afford all the tools her labour required, nor the various parts and supplies that the village required to stay in one piece.

Provided she could secure everything that was needed, her schedule had advanced considerably and, if the projected results of the Undead labour were to be believed, she would need to find a large number of tenants to move into her fief soon. The Imp from the lumber yard had lost its ghostly image and was now perched on a rail of the wagon, looking over her shoulder at the papers in her hands.

Lady Shalltear broke the silence that had hung over the entourage since they departed the lumber yard.

“Say, was my idea really that bad?” She asked.

“No, my lady,” Ludmila replied as she continued thinking about her budget.

“Then you’d have taken me up on my offer?”

“Yes, if I was certain that you could do what you claimed, then I would without hesitation.”

“Why the difference, then?” Lady Shalltear asked.

Ludmila lowered the page, looking to her liege sitting next to her. If she were perfectly honest with herself, she didn’t really know how the subjects of the inner territories conducted their lives, or how they reacted to the world around them. She could only relate her thoughts in terms of her own life on the border, and guess how others might be different.

“This is probably not unique to me,” she answered. “Anyone that is accustomed to a life where they need to obtain every advantage to survive would probably accept your solution. On the southern frontier, we are constantly under threat by our neighbors in the wilderness – ambushes and raids can happen with little to no warning. If we turned down the offer to heal an injury that made us unable to fight properly, it could not mean just our own deaths, but the failure to perform our duties to their utmost and the loss of those we care about. Losses that we might have prevented had we been whole.”

She looked down the street, at the long lane with its shuttered buildings to either side. Even with most of the daylight hours gone, there had not been any sign of life beyond the rows of smoking chimneys and the barely perceptible scents of meals come and gone. A patrol of Death Knights stomped by, heading in the opposite direction but, aside from the Undead, the streets remained empty.

“In the stability of the towns and cities of secure and developed lands, if you fail at something – if it doesn’t get you killed – you can try something else. When some doors close, others open. As long as you have something others value, you can find a place for yourself. Perhaps choices presented before you are the right ones, and turning away from them results in a lifetime of regret. Or it could be that said choices are rash, but your failures in them help you find greater success elsewhere. Because there are always options, men like Gareth Boyce can exist. Putting off the treatment of his injury led to him becoming a successful merchant in the first place. Success can lead to further success, but that same success can also turn you from making decisions that might have actually been for the best – even if it is an obvious decision for others.”

“Then how do you Humans find the right path?” Lady Shalltear frowned at Ludmila’s words. “I cannot fathom this sort of transient and aimless existence, devoid of inherent purpose.”

“We do not know which paths are ultimately right, my lady,” Ludmila replied. “We just end up where we are because that is where the choices of our lives lead us, for good or for ill. Thinking there is some perfect path that you are destined for and waiting for it to appear in front of you is a fantasy for fools.”

“You seem to be doing well enough for yourself now.”

“I was born a noble, my lady – I had very little in the way of choices in that sense. I just happen to find my place quite enjoyable and fulfilling...but I still have no idea about whether it is the right path or not.” Ludmila smirked, “I have many choices that I must make from now on; you can ask whether they were right or not at the end of my life, which hopefully will not come any time soon.”

Lady Shalltear wrinkled her nose, but it was probably not at Ludmila’s reply. Odours were carried on the wind as they turned northwards, filling the air with a multitude of different scents. As the wagon proceeded, the scents became stronger, some eye watering as they wafted by. They occasionally passed buildings of odd construction, fashioned for the manufacture of potions, ointments and oils. Most of the Alchemists of the city were located in this loose area in order to keep the emissions of their craft from permeating throughout all of E-Rantel. The wind would blow the fumes produced by their work over the wall nearby – conveniently into the huge cemetery which occupied the western quarter of the military district.

The wagon rolled to a stop at a building with windows that faced westwards towards the afternoon sun. The curtains inside were drawn, but the store itself did not appear to be closed. Ludmila had issued orders to the Soul Eater as an experiment when they were in the alley outside Gareth Boyce’s lumber yard: to head to the Alchemists’ area and find a shop that had someone working inside. That they had stopped in front of a building with a sign with the words ‘LeNez’ written over it in garishly bright lettering seemed to suggest that her instructions had worked unerringly well. She wondered if the Soul Eater already knew where to go in advance, or if it used some strange sense to carry out its instructions.

Aemilia went ahead to the workshop door and held the entrance open for the others to pass through. A wave of heat billowed over them, carrying with it the overpowering odour of far too many fragrances overlapping one another. At the long glass counter along the aisle leading into the store, a young woman who appeared to be in her early twenties reclined in a high-backed stool, facing the row of alchemical burners at the back of the workshop. She had a slovenly appearance: her shoulder-length strawberry blonde hair was matted with sweat, which beaded on her skin as well. Her shirt was unbuttoned and clung to her in various places, and she wore shortened trousers that rode far too high up her thighs. The image conveyed an overheated sensation which made the temperature in the sweltering workshop seem even hotter than it already was.

“Oy welcome~” she called out at the sound of the chimes hanging over the door, then turned her head upside-down towards them from her reclining position. “Cheh–if at all possible, could you go back outside and come back in as a group of cute men?”

At the rear of the group, Aemilia clicked her tongue in disapproval at the expression of disappointment.

“Just kidding,” the woman inside raised her hands – also upside-down – disarmingly. “It was a joke, a joke~”

She straightened in her seat, spinning it to face the counter whilst buttoning up her shirt. It did not improve her sweat-soaked image much.

“Gods, I was such a dumbass building an Alchemist’s Workshop with a west-facing storefront. Heat’s even worse in the summer, ya know,” she tied her hair in a loose ponytail as she rambled on. “Anyways, what can I do for you girls…ladies? I know it’s spring and all, but the men certainly aren’t coming out these days, no matter what scent you wear.”

“You are the owner of this workshop – Miss LeNez?” Ludmila asked.

“Yep, that’s me,” she nodded, “Germaine Lenez: fashioner of fragrances both sweet and seductive. Well, Maine is fine – I used ‘LeNez’ on the sign since it looks trendier, if ya know what I mean~”

“Why not just cool the place down by opening the door and windows?” Ludmila asked.

“Ahaha, yeah, right. Everyone downwind would come and burn my place to the ground.”

“I see…we are here to sell Sandalwood,” Ludmila said.

“Oh, Sandalwood. That’s pretty rare around these parts. What do you have?”

“Two, uh...trees? I am not sure how to describe it.”

Germaine slid off of her chair, slippers slapping lightly on the floor. She walked over to where a thin coat hung, snatching if off of its peg and throwing it on as she headed back the other way to come out from behind the counter.

“That sounds crazy,” she said, “but let’s take a look.”

She made her way past them, pushing the door open; then she froze.

“HOLY CRAP!”

Germaine’s voice reverberated over the rooftops. It was somehow much louder than Gareth Boyce shouting for his son. The Perfumer closed the door and turned around, facing the other women.

“Uhm…there’s Undead outside,” she said in a low voice. “Were they there when you got here? Can I tell them to go away? Should I Acid Cone them? I think I got just the right angle to hit them all at once from here…”

“That’s not the usual reaction,” Lady Shalltear observed.

“They just up and parked in front of my shop!” Germaine complained, “there’s no way any customers will come in like that.”

“They’re not going to run away just because you spray them,” Lady Shalltear told her.

“Oh~ you sure know your stuff, miss. Sorceress?”

“Cleric.”

“Hah, coulda fooled me,” the Perfumer opened the door a crack, peeking outside. “Well, it usually works. Whenever I get nasty folks showing up for whatever reason, I just start casting and they make themselves scarce real quick. Except for that one stupid Militia Inspector. City made me pay for his healing on top of the fine.”

“Why did an Inspection Officer come to see you?” Ludmila wasn’t sure if she wanted to know the answer.

“I was trying to air out the place,” Germaine said, turning back to speak to them, “was the middle of summer and hot as hell – I just couldn’t stand it any more. The neighbors all started complaining about the fumes and this guy just came up all snooty-like and ordered me to close up.”

“What happened then?” Lady Shalltear asked.

“Well…I was really cranky from everything so I just pointed and sprayed,” Germaine pointed her finger out the crack in the door. “His face melted right off. So did his arms. Maybe one of his legs? Fell into a puddle of his own goop with his goons shouting bloody murder while dumping their healing potions on him.”

“How did they not imprison you for that?” Ludmila was shocked.

“Oh, they were hopping mad,” Germaine grinned, “but when you can melt a giant hole in the prison wall that’s definitely more trouble than it’s worth. Got slapped with a big fat fine but they never came back after that.”

The Perfumer tilted her head at her own words.

“I guess it did work, now that I think about it.”

Ludmila was beginning to draw some similarities between the people she had met so far that weathered the presence of the Undead, but she felt that coming to any immediate conclusions would have lasting effects on her own ego.

“The Undead outside are with us,” she said after clearing her throat. “The wagon in front of the shop is hauling my cargo.”

“That so?” Germaine glanced out the door again, “They won’t steal my soul or bite me or say hurtful things, will they?

“The order of severity seems backwards but, no, they will not.”

“You’ve probably just never fought a Banshee. Well, what’s the hold up then?” Germaine brightened immediately, “I’m dying to get some fresh air.”

She turned and walked out of the door without a shred of hesitation or shame.

After they filed back out of the shop, Ludmila found the Perfumer standing on the wagon bed, repeatedly tugging on her shirt to cool herself.

“Ahhh~ So good,” Germaine sighed in contentment. “One of these days I’ll get a whole stack of those magical cooling boxes that they sell in the Empire to make my shop livable in the summer.”

If she showed any sign of self-consciousness as she stood in the breeze, she did not show it. She stretched and fanned her shirt and took her time adjusting her shorts before she held out her hand and cast a spell.

“「Appraisal Magic Item」.”

“That’s not supposed to work on non-magical items…” Lady Shalltear said suspiciously.

“Ahaha, you’re right, Miss Cleric,” the Perfumer knelt to take a closer look at the Sandalwood trees, “sure impresses the heck out of anyone that doesn’t know that, though.”

“But it’ll drain your mana, won’t it?”

“I’ve got mana if you’ve got coin~” Germaine’s voice floated over the edge of the wagon.

Not a minute passed before she stood up again.

“Yup, they’re the real deal,” Germaine cradled her chin thoughtfully with one hand, “these don’t grow around here though. How’d you come across two whole Sandalwood trees older than everyone here combined?”

“They are from my demesne, I think,” Ludmila replied, “the Rangers floated them down the river to the village from wherever they found them.”

“Your demesne? Baron Zahradnik was a man, last I checked.”

“You knew my lord father?”

“Nope,” the Perfumer replied. “But Warden’s Vale is the only territory even remotely close to where these grow. Those Rangers of yours must have ranged pretty far south to run into these, Baroness.”

“I was not on the patrol that found them,” Ludmila said, “so I am unsure where exactly they went.”

“A shame,” Germaine let out her breath in a huff, “there’s a lot of good stuff out there, but it’s teeming with nasties.”

The Perfumer turned around to look through the rest of the wagon.

“What about the rest here?” She asked, “Got anything for me?”

“It is all food,” Ludmila answered. “Manna Grass, Watercress, Arrowhead tubers.”

“Hum…all nice produce if I was in the market for produce – the stuff they’ve been dishing out of the city warehouse has been getting pretty boring lately. Not that I mind free food. Was hoping you had alchemical herbs or something. Ever since the Bareares moved out to Carne it felt like half of the incoming shipments were going straight to them.”

“The city has a potion shortage?”

“The city is going to have an everything shortage soon,” Germaine walked to the edge of the wagon bed. “Once whoever is running things in central decides enough is enough and chases everyone out of their houses, they’re gonna find that all of their supply chains are in shambles. I don’t think anything has really come in or gone out since midwinter: no traders, nothing from the duchy, nada.”

Ludmila exchanged glances with Lady Shalltear.

“How many people do you think realize this?” Ludmila asked.

“Everyone that does business seriously in this city probably does,” the Perfumer said, “but there’s not much most can do. E-Rantel is the biggest trading hub in the nearby region, but we’re set up to receive all of the merchant traffic coming through here, not the other way around. There are only a handful of merchant companies based out of the city, and they’re mostly owned by nobles who may or may not still be around. Once people come out of their hidey holes, they’re gonna find that there are no materials or products to handle; no work, no food. Even the Adventurers are going to be in trouble – most of their jobs here came from keeping Katze from being more uppity than the surrounding countries would like, but I’m not sure if our Sorcerer King would even care that there’s a handful more Undead wandering around. They’d probably just walk right in through the front gate and sign up for his army.”

Germaine hopped off the back of the wagon, rubbing her hands together with relish.

“So, Lady Zahradnik,” she said, “how would you like to settle this? Due to the current shortfalls, I’ve got plenty of capacity to extract the oil out of these trees. I can sell some to a jeweler I know as well – he’d love to turn such high quality Sandalwood into fragrant ornaments and the like…maybe you’ll end up buying a few? Gods know you’ll be living large after this.”

“How much are we talking about here…” Ludmila was wary after the revelation from Gareth Boyce.

“Well,” Germaine turned back to look at the wagon, “these two trees should yield around two litres of the highest quality oil. That’s enough to make incense of a calibre that even the Theocracy can’t easily get their hands on for every one of their temples. Or half a year’s worth of perfume for every single noble in one of the big marches. I’ll probably be slowly doling it out over time to make sure I get the most out of it. The parts that I don’t use I can easily find a buyer for…I can take that off your hands and sell it for you if you don’t mind a small surcharge for my time and connections.”

“I do not mind,” Ludmila said, “as long as it is not unreasonable.”

“Right then,” the Perfumer smiled. “All said and done it should come out to ninety-six platinum coins.”

“…is that the right amount?” Ludmila’s voice felt very small when it came out.

“Hm?” Germaine scratched her head, “Should be. The finished products are worth more of course. After all the overhead is accounted for, it should leave me with a small margin – as long as I can manage the products properly. Maybe I can finally go out and get a few of those cooling boxes I was talking about.”

Germaine cackled; she seemed more excited about the future improvement to her comfort than the fact that she was about to part with nearly a hundred platinum coins.

“Actually,” she added, “before we sign off on this, is there anything you’d like to purchase from my shop?”

“You are a pretty shrewd merchant.”

“Surely you jest, Baroness,” Germaine laughed. “Any good merchant would do at least this – you never know what people want until you ask, after all. Might even be rendering a service by showing your customers things that they never knew that they needed.”

“Still, having ninety-six platinum coins available to make purchases with is incredible...”

“Ahaha...I don’t actually have that much, personally, but the Guild knows how much these are worth and will help finance the trade.”

“Luzi,” Ludmila called to her maid, who stepped forward with hands folded in front of her.

“Yes, my lady?” Aemilia replied.

“Put together a full inventory of her merchandise that we will need for the city manor,” she told her, “as well as for the manor staff. I will be having Terah fill the role of interim Housekeeper to hire suitable personnel to work there.”

“Yes, my lady.”

“Also a smaller set for various official functions.”

“Yes, my lady.”

“Bring Lady Shalltear’s attendants with you as well,” Ludmila added. “Maybe they will find something to her liking.”

Aemilia curtseyed before she and the Vampire Brides turned and followed Germaine back into her workshop.

Birthright: Act 2, Chapter 19

Arcane Artisans

Not all of those who are gifted with aptitude for the arcane become mages who seek their fortune as Adventurers, nor do they join the ranks of the armies or noble retinues of their nation. Neither do they become magisters that walk erudite halls to instruct on and delve into the great mysteries of the art.

Indeed, a great many mages do not even spare a thought to the vocations that may place them in mortal danger, or those of study for its own sake. They do not seek an Adventurer’s fame or the grand campaigns of mighty armies; nor the company of their fellows in seclusion from the unlearned and ignorant masses of the world.

Instead, they turn their considerable skills towards the production of goods and services for towns and cities, selling their wares to noble patrons and common labourers alike. No simple apothecary or dabbler in enchantment and artifice can match the expertise and quality of those who endeavour to become masters of their respective crafts.

From lifesaving potions and magical equipment to enchanted tools that improve the quality of daily life and labour, these artisans form one of the cornerstones of civilized societies around the world. Their endless quest for its improvement makes them integral to development beyond simple agrarian life, and their work often comes hand in hand with the rise of advanced and powerful nations.

Though their focus may lie in serving on the industrial side of civilian settings, they are still potent arcane casters that often wield the same spells as one would find used by an Adventurer or Military Mage, as their research leads them to seek out answers in every field of magic available to them. Many an ignorant belligerent or nosy official have found themselves burned, electrocuted, frozen or melted – even transmuted into useful materials by an incensed shopkeeper to exact payment for the disruption of their business.

Chapter 19

Ludmila and Lady Shalltear rested on a bench placed in the shade of a tree that had been left to grow off the street near the Perfumer’s shop. The Vampire was idly staring at the clear afternoon sky while Ludmila was once again busy recalculating her once again obsoleted budget.

“You seem to be taking this all in stride,” Lady Shalltear spoke as she watched the wisps of the remaining clouds drift away as they journeyed southwards.

“My head is still spinning from all this, actually,” Ludmila said. “Ninety-six platinum is a lot of money, is it not, my lady?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Lady Shalltear said. “I’m no more aware of the value of anything than I was an hour ago.”

“I’m sorry, my lady,” Ludmila apologized. “My mind is swamped just trying to keep up with everything. Ninety-six platinum is enough to feed, clothe and arm every villager in Warden’s Vale for an entire year. Or at least it would be, if they were still around.”

“Well, if you put it that way, it seems like it would be a significant sum for one of you…but you made it sound as if your territory is small; is this not the case?”

“It is,” Ludmila nodded. “There were only thirty households last summer.”

“And how does that compare to the other nobles?” Lady Shalltear asked.

“Corelyn Barony has around two thousand households, last I heard,” Ludmila dredged up the numbers from her memory. “Countess Jezne should have close to five thousand households in her personal demesne alone. Then there are five other baronies within her territory, but they aren't as productive as the Riverlands, so perhaps double that in the whole of Jezne County.”

She frowned and made a vexed noise.

“I guess once I actually look at the numbers from that perspective, it’s not so much. Ninety-six platinum would barely last two days if Countess Jezne suddenly had all of her production cease like it has right now. I suppose this is what most people see when they look at the nobility and their revenues: they think about what they would personally purchase for themselves if they had access to such wealth, with no obligations. Ninety-six platinum coins for an average city labourer is over twenty-five years of work.”

“Your demesne is vacant now,” Lady Shalltear said. “It seems like you do indeed have that much for yourself.”

“It belongs to House Zahradnik,” Ludmila stated. “The revenues of the demesne should go towards its development and growth for greater gains in the future. After hiring and providing for the manor household, purchasing the tools and other supplies for the labour force, and buying what is needed to maintain the village, I will still have the majority of this capital to work with. I need to see about attracting new tenants and investing in services and industries for the village to support the surrounding lands as they are developed.”

“You seem to have a clear picture concerning the future of your territory.”

“The frontier territories are far behind in development compared to the interior regions,” Ludmila said. “There is much to study and learn from what the other nobles have done. But what works for them may not necessarily work for me – I have a few ideas but, by and large, it will just be a lot of trial and error: which I suspect is where most of my capital will vanish.”

“For someone with such a progressive outlook,” Lady Shalltear said, “that sounded quite pessimistic.”

“I did not mean for it to sound that way, my lady, but after looking at the filled-out parts of the almanacs that the administration provided…if they are accurate, then the nobility cannot rely on their past to model the future.”

Seeing Lady Shalltear’s face turn blank in confusion, Ludmila realized how cryptic her last sentence sounded.

“It’s the Undead workforce, my lady,” she explained. “If the Sorcerous Kingdom can field this labour in quantities enough to fill the needs of every territory, then our economies are fundamentally changed. For a fraction of the cost of providing for tenant farmers, these Undead servitors can do the same work. The same goes for any other sort of menial labour that they can manage. That means we will need far fewer tenants working directly as labourers, and more tenants that are capable of directing the Undead in tasks that benefit from specialized direction.

The nature of value will shift drastically – any goods produced with the assistance of Undead labour will become cheaper relative to those produced by more complex tasks that still require the expertise of skilled craftsmen. Territories that have vast amounts of arable land will be able to thrive through sheer volume of agriculture, but those that do not will need to find or create something unique to their own territories that set them apart from the rest. Warden’s Vale falls into the latter category: for the time being I can rely on forestry and the limited agricultural space we have, but the terrain of the highlands makes development like you see in the interior difficult and expensive by comparison.”

Ludmila looked around at the empty street, continuing to share her thoughts with Lady Shalltear.

“The entire region will feel these changes, I think. E-Rantel is the hub of inland trade between Re-Estize, the Empire and the Theocracy. I’ve seen those that look like they come from places even further out as well. Once the duchy comes back to life and commerce resumes, the city will be swarmed with traders who will seize the opportunity to buy the goods that the Sorcerous Kingdom produces at significantly lower costs.”

“I think you’ve gotten so used to us that you forget that most people are rather averse to the Undead,” Lady Shalltear said.

“You are correct, my lady,” Ludmila conceded, “but, like this city, it should only be a matter of time. The most intrepid merchants will carry the Sorcerous Kingdom’s products far and wide, and their guildmates will see their caravans laden with commodities obtained at prices impossible elsewhere. Ambition will overcome fear – the only fear will be the fear of falling behind their rivals and competitors, and that will drive them all the more.”

“So...how long would you say until this happens?” Lady Shalltear leaned towards her, “This vision you conjure seems to fulfill a part of His Majesty’s wishes.”

“If trade is allowed to flow freely, a few years, perhaps,” Ludmila said. “Not more than a decade for the immediate region. The only obstacles that come to mind would be the political and cultural barriers that may form in opposition to the growing power of the nation – or the nature of the Sorcerous Kingdom itself. Since the Undead will be doing most of the menial labour, someone might spread rumors of cursed foodstuffs, for instance.”

“Those Skeletons are incapable of casting curses,” Lady Shalltear muttered. “We should find the individuals that spread these baseless rumors and silence them.”

“That is a needless effort which may cause more problems than it solves, my lady; it can be safely ignored, I think. Merchants will find ways around those barriers to facilitate trade, and even a formal trade embargo seems self-defeating. Over time, those that embrace our nation’s trade will thrive compared to those that do not due to the cost of our goods. If nations do not yield to this trade, they will slowly lose ground to their rivals until their lands are forcefully taken from them. So, sooner or later, they will fall under the Sorcerous Kingdom’s economic hegemony. If they wage war to break the hegemony, they will only provide the justification to be crushed by His Majesty’s armies.”

“Did you realize this all on your own, while sitting on this bench?” Lady Shalltear examined the rough wooden construction of their seat suspiciously.

“It is the knowledge and experiences of the past day coming together…and perhaps I have been raised in part to see things from this perspective for my entire childhood.” Ludmila’s gaze turned inwards. “Realizing possibilities makes you come into other possibilities. As resources become available and knowledge grows, things that I would not have not conceived of come into view. As each hour passes, my life seems to become busier – I want to see and do more, and the hours of the day seem ever more insufficient. Besides, that should be the reason why the annexation of this duchy came in the form that it did, yes?”

“Um...maybe?” Lady Shalltear’s gaze shifted away, “Some of the others should understand at least this much, but even the most intelligent amongst us can only hope to skim the surface of His Majesty’s limitless insight.”

“The laws of Re-Estize have been kept intact,” Ludmila stated, “which means that His Majesty has left the management of its territories to those that already have a firm grasp on the characteristics of their respective fiefs. The policies and mechanisms of the administration have been set up so that we can smoothly adopt the concepts that the Royal Court wishes to introduce to the nation so they can, in turn, realize their goals for industry and trade. As all of the pieces fall into place, this grand strategy will become an unstoppable current – one can either have it carry them comfortably to where it brings us, or be swept away forcefully to the same destination regardless.”

Lady Shalltear was silently mouthing something as she digested Ludmila’s words. Her expression suddenly sharpened, though, and she turned her head to the south.

“Oh, they found something,” she said.

“My lady?” Ludmila twisted around to look to the storefront to see if Aemilia had come out.

“Not them. The members of my Household that I sent to locate your ship.”

“Really, my lady?” Ludmila rose from her seat, “Where did they find it?”

“I don’t think I’ve seen a name for it on the maps. There’s a steep section of the valley, where the river goes through a series of large bends. The ship they see has run aground on the bank.”

“I know where that is…the shores are rocky though,” Ludmila frowned worriedly, “is there any damage, my lady?”

“They can’t tell,” Lady Shalltear replied. “Shall we go take a look?”

Ludmila thought for a moment before deciding to wait.

“We should wait and return to the house with the wagon, my lady.”

“What about the food you still have to sell?” Lady Shalltear asked, “The Merchant Guild as well, to collect your payments.”

“Seeing today’s revenues thus far, I can provision the city manor with it instead,” Ludmila answered. “It should be enough to keep the household staff fed for a while without needing to access the city’s limited supplies. We can drop by the Guild after we’ve seen to the vessel.”

As they made their way back to the wagon, the front door of the workshop opened. The heat and odours of its interior once again wafted out into the street and Aemilia emerged with a small, lacquered Rosewood chest held in both hands. One of the Vampire Brides was holding a smaller box with a similar appearance. Germaine followed after them, closing the door lightly behind her with a grin on her face.

“It looks like they found something for you as well, my lady.” Ludmila noted, but Lady Shalltear only tapped her lip thoughtfully.

The Perfumer came up to Ludmila and held up two sheets of high quality paper.

“This one’s the bill for what your Lady’s Maid purchased,” Germaine said as she handed over the first, then the second, “and this one’s the invoice for the Merchant Guild. You can move your wagon into the alley where we’ll grab the rest of your things and get those trees into the warehouse.”

Ludmila motioned to the Soul Eater to do as Germaine instructed, then looked down to the bill.

Aemilia had ordered quite a long list of items. There were two sets of women’s perfume for each member of the household staff – one set for use during functions held during the day, and another for those held during the evening. There were also a dozen vials of cologne for the manservants that would be hired; she wondered if the Undead footmen were expected to use it as well. She scanned over two crates of aromatic candles and one crate of scented soap as her eyes ran down the list to the end, where the items for her personal use were. Three sets of perfume, soaps, candles, bath salts and scents for her solar. She didn’t even know where to start on their use; her experience with fragrances was next to nonexistent, given the remote location of Warden’s Vale and the impracticality of using cosmetics that could easily make Demihumans aware of one’s presence.

Her eyes felt like they would roll out of their sockets when she read the tally at the bottom: eighty gold coins – eight platinum coins had disappeared before they had even entered her hands. She looked up with a question on her tongue, but Aemilia’s beaming face seemed so confident and pleased at her selection that Ludmila’s words were left unspoken.

“Is there one for me?” Lady Shalltear said as she peeked around Ludmila’s arm at the bill.

“Hmm…well that one’s a gift?” The Perfumer replied, “You said you were a Cleric, but if one of the city temples here had someone like you, they’d be overflowing with ‘supplicants’ every day. That means you must be a big shot on the King’s side, right? The Baroness here defers to you, after all. Just let people know what you’re wearing if they ask, and where it comes from. It’ll be great for marketing.”

“Lady Shalltear is the Minister of Transportation,” Ludmila informed her.

“Ahaha…”

Germaine abruptly turned around and quickly walked off after the wagon that had disappeared around the corner and into the alley.

Ludmila instructed the Death Knights to help with the cargo, then turned back to Lady Shalltear. She was holding up a clear crystal vial about the length of her pinky finger against the sky, peering at the liquid inside. She suddenly flicked the vial into the air, and it tumbled end over end before falling again to hit the stone pavement at her feet. Rather than shattering, it bounced several times before spinning to a halt. She knelt to pick up the vial again.

“The vial has a petty enchantment reinforcing it,” she noted with interest, “and since it has become a magic item, it won’t break without one purposely destroying it. How quaint.”

“What did they find for you, my lady?” Ludmila was curious about what the Vampire Brides found that they thought suited their mistress.

Lady Shalltear removed the stopper of the vial and turned it over against her wrist. After testing the scent with a focused expression, she extended her arm. Ludmila leaned forward: it was rich and earthy, with the hint of green and dried flowers. The ghost of incense could be detected, so faint that it gave the impression it was not actually there.

“A winter meadow? No, it wouldn’t have incense mixed in then,” Ludmila could not quite place the fragrance.

“A mausoleum,” Lady Shalltear offered, “or a tomb. The aroma of turned earth, dried flowers and incense in a long forgotten offering to the past.”

Her words came together with the fragrance of the perfume to create vivid imagery. Of cold stone in pristine silence; the peace of the grave seducing the weary to rest.

“It suits you very well, my lady,” Ludmila agreed with the selection. “Her quirks aside, Germaine is an excellent Perfumer…do you think she would accept an offer to move her workshop to Warden’s Vale? It is much cooler there throughout the year, and she expressed an interest in what could be gathered in the region.”

“If you believe so. I can hardly advise you in matters of your own demesne.” Lady Shalltear said, then smirked, “Though you may want to be able to survive an Acid Cone or two first.”

The rattling of the now mostly empty freight wagon drew their attention as the Soul Eater drove it back onto the street. Aemilia and the Vampire Brides were already sitting in their usual seat on the rear edge of the wagon. The Death Knights stomped out after them, but Germaine was nowhere to be seen.

“Where’s the Perfumer?” Ludmila asked them as she and Lady Shalltear pulled themselves into the front seat.

“Miss Lenez stayed behind in her workshop, my lady,” Aemilia answered. “She looked ready to get to work.”

“It seems like I will have to make my offer some time later,” Ludmila said, “not that I am in any way ready to accommodate an Alchemist. We are heading back to the manor to drop everything else off. There is something I need to check on before we go out to purchase the rest of what is needed.”

Birthright: Act 2, Chapter 20

Chapter 20

The sun was hanging over the battlements when the Soul Eater parked the wagon in the service lane behind the manor. After sending Aemilia into the house with their things, Ludmila instructed the Death Knights to carry the crates and barrels of food into the cellar.

“Is the ship still there, my lady?” Ludmila asked.

“This child came back right after they located it.”

Lady Shalltear pointed to the air above their heads, where Ludmila noticed a small black bat fluttering about.

“The rest stayed to guard the location,” Lady Shalltear told her, “so it should still be there unless it somehow dislodges itself and continues downstream.”

The footmen returned from their task and Ludmila directed the Soul Eater to meet her in the port village of Corelyn Barony. She fell in step with Lady Shalltear as they walked along, entering a service lane behind her manor.

“Are two Death Knights enough to move something that heavy?” Ludmila asked.

They left the service lane, and it turned out that the gardens between the clubhouse and the Royal Villa were not far at all if one cut through the back ways.

“Going by what was conveyed to me,” Lady Shalltear answered, “they should be able to work it off whatever it’s caught on. Are we ready to depart?”

“Yes, my lady,” Ludmila replied. “Thank you.”

“「Gate」.”

The familiar black portal opened in the air before them in the centre of the gazebo. At Lady Shalltear’s prompting, Ludmila stepped through. She blinked as her vision shifted from the surface of the gate to the filtered sunlight of the ravine that was their destination. It was close to where she had expected their location to be by the description that was given earlier. The river flowed down from the south, coming out of the steep gorge that started at the southern end of Warden’s Vale. Its flow was broad and deep, curving around the northern edge of the barrier ranges to meander its way eastwards towards the Katze Plains. She could see signs where people had waded to the shore, leaving prints on the riverbank and a trail of disturbed plants up and into the forest above.

The Death Knights appeared through the gate behind Ludmila and Lady Shalltear and her attendants appeared shortly after.

“Oh, it’s a Knarr,” Lady Shalltear said when she laid her eyes upon the vessel.

“Is that what this type of boat is called, my lady?” Ludmila asked, turning her attention back to the river. “We always just called it ‘the boat’ or ‘the ship’.”

“Even though you’ve used it for generations?”

“It is the only such vessel in use around here,” Ludmila shrugged. “I suppose there was no need to refer to it as anything else. How did you know what it was called?”

“One of the territories at home has several vessels of similar appearance,” Lady Shalltear said. “Still, it’s strange that you don’t even know what you’ve been using. How did it come into your House’s employ?”

“My ancestors found it mostly intact on this river somewhere. The villagers managed to refurbish it for transporting goods back and forth from E-Rantel…we never learned how to build more of them, but if what is claimed about the Undead labour in the administration’s materials is true, we will need more vessels like this to keep up with my fief’s production.”

Lady Shalltear’s gaze crossed over the boat, then looked out over the river.

“This type of ship is designed for travel on both rivers and large bodies of water,” she said. “Perhaps, if you travel further down the river, you will find out why it was here – perhaps you will find more ships to use as well.”

“It may be as you say, my lady,” Ludmila agreed. “Besides, one day I would like to see where the river leads.”

There was a mass of chittering in the air above, and she looked up to see Lady Shalltear’s Household fluttering down to disappear into the shadows surrounding her. The Vampire watched from an outcropping that overlooked the riverbend as Ludmila directed the Death Knights to extract the Knarr from its predicament. After it had been worked off of the hidden stones and placed fully onto the water, Ludmila stepped over the railing and into the boat as the Death Knights held it fast against the current. She walked up and down its length and hopped a few times in different places, but could not hear or feel anything amiss. Ludmila looked up to Lady Shalltear.

“I need to take the ship to the village port south of E-Rantel,” she called up to her, “would you like to join us, my lady?”

“You go on ahead,” the Vampire made a waving motion. “I need to prepare for the daily meeting of the Royal Council. I’ll find you after we’re done.”

“Ah…we may have to meet again tomorrow morning then,” Ludmila apologized, “the current in the spring is swift, but I will still only arrive some time in the middle of the night – or perhaps early in the morning.”

“That long? Can you operate this vessel between the three of you?”

“I don’t need the sails going downstream,” Ludmila said. “All I need to do is keep the ship away from the shore; the river is quite deep. Come to think of it, the navigators always preferred that I take the night watch...I guess I never realized why until now.”

Lady Shalltear looked down at them for a moment before floating down.

“Is something the matter, my lady?” Ludmila asked.

“Too long,” Lady Shalltear said. “You still need to buy what you need for your work in the barony, and we need to get your Undead labourers on their way.”

She looked over the Knarr, then out at the river again, at a point not far downstream.

“「Gate」.”

A black portal wide enough for the ship to easily pass through appeared in the river. The roar of churning water issued from behind it.

“This will take your ship to the section of river before the port,” Lady Shalltear told her. “I’ll meet with you after you return to the city.”

“Thank you, my lady.” Ludmila paused for a moment before asking, “What happens if I am unable to get the whole ship into the Gate?”

“I don’t think anyone has purposely tried that before,” Lady Shalltear answered. “I’d advise against you experimenting with it.”

Ludmila called the Death Knights to board the vessel and slowly steered it out from the shore as the current began to move them. Their course stayed true, until they started getting closer to the Gate. The water near the edges of their route was being drawn around the Gate due to the tumultuous current caused by the gap in the river behind the portal. She struggled with the tiller, trying to keep the vessel straight, but it started to veer and tumble on its axis. Fortunately, there was still enough space to fit through even while the ship was oriented at a strange angle.

On the other side, the abrupt change in current jarred the vessel after they left the Gate, throwing all of its occupants off-balance. One Death Knight was driven to its knees, while the other was thrown completely overboard with an unexpectedly quiet plop that was drowned out by the roar of the water leaving the portal behind them. Ludmila was painfully knocked into the tiller, causing the vessel to lurch violently even further and she leaned limply over it, winded by the impact. Through teary eyes, she recovered her footing and straightened the boat’s course once again as the portal silently shut far behind them.

Ludmila worriedly scanned the water’s surface, searching for the Death Knight that had fallen overboard, but there was no visible sign of its passing, nor anything at all to indicate where it actually was over the murmur of the river. Hoping it was still somewhere nearby and had not been carried far downstream by the current, she called out over the water, instructing it to follow them along the northern riverbank. A few seconds later, she sighed in relief as its horned helmet broke the surface of the water and it stomped its way onto the shore to follow them, armour glistening wetly in the late afternoon sun.

Leaning back tiredly into her seat, Ludmila placed a hand on her sore abdomen. Not far ahead, she saw the familiar sight of Corelyn Village’s earthen jetty. Like the one at Warden’s Vale, it had been built to deflect the river current and provide a calm harbour to moor vessels in. She directed the Death Knight on the shore to run ahead to the harbour and grab a large rope to throw to its fellow on the boat when they maneuvered in closer. Between the two sturdy Undead, the ship smoothly pivoted around the jetty, its momentum carrying it all the way into the calm waters of the port. As the boat lightly bumped up against the pier, she hopped off to secure it to its moorings.

While she worked, a scream drew Ludmila’s attention towards the village, where a girl had appeared from a building not too far from the shore. She turned in a panic, stumbling over her feet several times as she fled.

“Wait!” Ludmila called out after her.

The fleeing villager did not stop, even though Ludmila had unconsciously projected her ability along with the word. The girl did not even slow at her voice as she scurried away down the empty village lane, shedding doubt on her confidence that she could use her abilities properly. The sight of the Death Knights stomping after the girl to make her ‘wait’, however, did not give her much time to ponder. She hurriedly recalled them before inadvertently starting some sort of mass panic in Clara’s home village. The encounter had her decide against waiting on the Soul Eater at the port, and she led her footmen onto the highway to meet the wagon on the way.

She spotted the Soul Eater already galloping down the hill from the city. The roads allowed it to speed along without damaging the wagon and, within another fifteen minutes, it came close to where they awaited it on the highway. After it had turned the wagon back around towards E-Rantel, she hopped on and it took off back towards the city. Now that she was a passenger, the ride did not seem as smooth as it had looked when the wagon had come down the hill. As it was formerly a part of Rampossa III’s demesne, the highways had been paved, making them much better for carriages, carts and wagons to travel on. At the wagon’s current speed, however, Ludmila was vibrating so violently in her seat that she held worries as to whether the vehicle would shake itself apart before they returned to the city.

The Soul Eater assumed a canter after she became concerned enough to tell it to slow down and, a little over thirty minutes later, they arrived at the massive main gate of the city. The two Death Knights on either side of the entrance looked towards her briefly before returning to their watchful vigil. They did not move to impede her as she entered, and the wagon thankfully rumbled through at a much more reasonable speed than it had taken north along the highway.

As they crossed into the military district that lay between the outer and second walls, it occurred to Ludmila that she had forgotten all about her labour force. Standing up as the wagon rolled by where they were ordered to wait, she spotted them neatly arranged exactly where they should have been. She sat back down, feeling a bit guilty about neglecting them for so long, but at the same time wondering if they would wait forever if they were just left there.

The wagon made its winding way through the thoroughfares of the city towards the main plaza, and Ludmila looked up towards a familiar, barely audible chittering noise – a small black bat fluttered above them. Further above, she spotted the Elder Lich, who might have been trailing her the entire time. She wondered if the Imp was lurking about somewhere as well. She was about to order the Soul Eater to stop and see if Lady Shalltear would appear when her liege suddenly alighted on the front of the wagon, the lacy frills of her gown fluttering in the wind. Without a word, she once again seated herself beside Ludmila, as if dropping out of the sky in such a manner was perfectly normal.

Birthright: Act 2, Chapter 21

Chapter 21

Ludmila stared over at Lady Shalltear, whose crimson eyes had taken on a dim glow in the fading light. None of the Undead around her reacted or even seemed to care that someone had fallen out of the sky, and Ludmila started feeling a bit out of place being the odd one out.

“My lady,” Ludmila asked, “will it become a normal thing in the city to have people landing in the street like that?”

“There are many Heteromorphs and Demihumans who have the ability to fly,” Lady Shalltear said. “Magic users and wielders of magic items enchanted with flight spells also do so…so it should be a more common sight in the future as more peoples fall under the dominion of His Majesty.”

“There are no laws regulating flight in Re-Estize,” Ludmila said. “Perhaps you should propose a few as the Minister of Transportation to prevent incidents in the future. I cannot imagine airborne accidents ending very well for anyone involved – or the people below.”

“The sky is quite vast,” Lady Shalltear replied, “and the chance of randomly bumping into others is much lower than walking on a street…but I suppose something should be in place to prevent potential damage to His Majesty’s realm.”

“You have never collided with someone in flight before?”

“Only when I’m aiming for them,” Lady Shalltear smiled.

Ludmila shook her head, uncomprehending. Meanwhile, the Soul Eater turned as it entered the still-empty main plaza, driving the wagon towards the front of the main office of the Merchant Guild. It was a grand structure of three stories, occupying the entire side of the plaza where it had been constructed. Windows of clear crystal lined the second and third levels of the building, which would offer a glimpse of the archives and offices within. The main entrance had two pairs of glass doors at the top of the broad granite stairs leading up from street level.

The imposing building stood directly across the plaza from the city’s main cathedral, which had been sponsored by the Theocracy at the site of the original chapel that had been built when the city was founded and Re-Estize was still young. The guild office was not only placed across from the cathedral, it was also built at the same height as well – if daring to challenge the might and authority of the Temples. The fountain and column that they had passed between on the way to the outer reaches of the district were a reminder that this rivalry was very much real. When the main office of the Merchant Guild was constructed, it was said that the Temples commissioned the beautiful fountain on their side of the plaza to remind the citizens of the life and provision that the gods provided. But then the Merchant Guild had raised the column: an elegant work of art which dominated the square.

Years ago, she had overheard a conversation amongst the ladies of the nobility concerning the rivalry between the Merchant Guild and the Temples. That E-Rantel was a city of trade and in the secular government of Re-Estize, the power of the Temples was dwarfed by the influence of the Guild. Because of this, the Temples were said to be perpetually jealous, but could only make ineffectual motions outside of their direct spheres of authority. Worship of the Six Great Gods had long since waned in the north with the rise of the faith of The Four, but the situation remained the same: commerce was the lifeblood of the city, and the Guild was its beating heart.

That heart seemed still now. The gleaming head of the column caught the light of the evening sun over the rooftops, scattering its shimmering radiance in bright fragments over the plaza, but the Guild Office itself appeared as silent and inactive as when they had crossed the main plaza earlier that day. The windows that peeked into the archives and offices had their curtains drawn shut with no light visible behind them. There were no clients entering or leaving the building, nor anyone resting on the stairs or benches outside.

As Ludmila stepped off of the wagon and approached the main entrance, she saw that there was a single light visible from the entrance, where a balding man stood at one of the reception counters. The large door was light and soundless as she pulled it open for Lady Shalltear, and the measure of their footfalls whispered on the long carpet as they approached the front desk. The old man made no move to recognize them – his head was bent over the unadorned counter as he leafed through the thick binder that lay in front of him. It was only when they had come directly in front of his stall that he raised his head. Sharp brown eyes that belied their owner’s apparent age looked over to Ludmila; then to Lady Shalltear. His gaze then went down to their hands before finally settling on the blue folder in Ludmila’s possession.

The old man looked Ludmila in the eye and spoke in a clipped, yet decisive tone.

“What business do you have with the Guild?”

Unsure on how to respond, Ludmila opened her folder, retrieved the two invoices within and placed them on the counter. The man immediately took the sheets of paper, holding them up in his lean hands towards the light. It took him a minute to scan over the first invoice, after which he switched to the other. He then walked over to a long table behind the counter, flipping through another binder which lay there. After a few more minutes, the man returned to the reception counter. He rolled a large stamp over an inkpad, and pressed it onto both of the invoices. Ludmila thought she saw the ink glow briefly before he placed his palm over the invoices and spoke.

“Do you have an account with the Guild, Baroness Zahradnik?” He asked.

“I am not a merchant,” she replied.

“You don’t have to be,” he patted the invoices. “Anyone that does business like this should register with the Guild.”

“Why is that?” Ludmila asked.

“Have you ever seen someone pull a hundred platinum coins out of their pocket?” He tapped his finger on the Perfumer’s invoice.

“Well...no,” she admitted.

“Me neither,” he said. “That’s what the guild does. You don’t carry coin around doing business like this: you just use invoices like the ones on the counter here. The Guild ensures that each transaction is authentic and then the money is transferred between accounts. The only time people move real coin around is with an armed escort to places where there’s a need for it.”

“What about all of the people in the city that trade in coin?”

“We usually don’t deal with them,” he said, “but we do deal with the merchants that take their coin and deposit it here. The Guild mostly deals with real money, sums of Platinum like these invoices or even greater.”

“It goes higher than Platinum?”

“Sure does. Mithril and Adamantite coins. Gem coins and official plaques of credit. You don’t see that around here though. Too poor.”

Just this morning, Ludmila was agonizing over how to budget out a few hundred gold coins to supply her demesne. Now, after she had come into wealth she had never seen before, much less expected to possess so soon, this man was telling her that platinum was the smallest denomination of currency that they normally dealt with, and that the largest trade hub in the nearby region was considered too poor to deal in anything greater.

“Alright then,” she said, “how do I register an account?”

“You’ll need to provide proof of your identity and a seal so we can add it to our archives for authentication purposes,” he replied.

“But you just addressed me as Baroness Zahradnik?”

“A courtesy.”

“Then what do you deem suitable as proof of identity?” Ludmila asked.

“Official documents from the administrative office that you report to,” he said. “Or you can have an official vouch for your identity.”

“Oh! I can do that,” Lady Shalltear said from beside her.

The old clerk turned his attention to Lady Shalltear, whose shoulders barely appeared above the counter.

“...and you are?”

“This is Lady Shalltear Bloodfallen–”

“Never heard of her.”

“Lady Shalltear is the Minister of Transportation.”

“Lady Shalltear will need to provide proof of her identity and provide a seal so we can add it to our archives for authentication.”

“Lady Shalltear is about to turn this entire building into a heap of cinders with a Fire Storm spell.”

Seeing her liege’s mood take a turn for the worse, Ludmila hurriedly attempted to deescalate the situation.

“A moment please, my lady,” she implored Lady Shalltear in placating tones.

She turned towards the entrance and paced hurriedly towards the door. When she stood at the top of the stairs outside, she looked around for the Elder Lich. Spotting it floating above the plaza, she waved for it to come down.

“Do you have proof of identification and a seal of office as a member of the administration?” She asked.

“Yes,” it said.

“I require your assistance, then. Come with me.”

Ludmila turned back to enter the office, hoping that she was fast enough to prevent whatever a Fire Storm spell was from befalling the building. Fortunately, Lady Shalltear did not appear to be casting anything when she returned to the counter – but, upon seeing the Elder Lich with what was needed in hand, her expression darkened even further.

“The official here can vouch for our identity,” she motioned for the Elder Lich to come forward, “are these credentials acceptable?”

The attaché placed what appeared to be a small plaque and an ebony seal on the counter. The old man raised the items to the light no differently than he had the invoices, and there was no sign he even cared that an Elder Lich had walked up to him. Shortly after, he placed them back on the counter and produced two identical forms from somewhere out of sight below the desk. Ludmila filled her form and stamped it with the seal that she had brought with her from Warden’s Vale. The seals of the Merchant Guild and the Civil Office of the Sorcerous Kingdom followed soon after.

They moved to work on Lady Shalltear’s documentation, but when the Elder Lich raised its hand to stamp the form, the Vampire shouted.

“Wait!”

Three heads turned to Lady Shalltear at the interruption.

“Not you.” she said to the Elder Lich, “You.”

Ludmila found Lady Shalltear’s finger pointed towards her.

“My lady?”

“You can vouch for me and use your seal on the form,” Lady Shalltear said. “You had your identity verified by this attaché, yes?”

It seemed needlessly convoluted, but Ludmila acquiesced. The guild clerk disappeared into the office, shaking his head, after which Lady Shalltear spoke.

“That gorilla did it on purpose,” she said testily.

“What is a ‘gorilla’, my lady?” Ludmila asked.

“It’s – never mind. The Guardian Overseer is making things hard for me on purpose. There’s no way she didn’t know that I would need these things eventually, and then she sent this Elder Lich with everything that you need as your ‘attaché’ to serve as a constant reminder of her influence even as you are subordinate to me.”

“Lady Shalltear,” Ludmila licked her lips as she tried phrasing her question tactfully, “are there…issues in the Royal Court?”

“Issues?”

“You seem to have a rather disagreeable relationship with the Guardian Overseer.”

“Ah, that’s what you mean,” Lady Shalltear said. “We are rivals, not enemies. There is solidarity when it comes to the Will of His Majesty and the defence of His realm.”

“Then...if I may ask, my lady,” Ludmila was still unsure if it was a delicate subject or not, “what is the nature of this rivalry?”

“The only thing that matters, of course!” Lady Shalltear said matter-of-factly, “To earn our place at the side of His Majesty, in all things. Do ambitious Human nobles not seek great achievements within their courts? To win the appreciation and trust of their liege?”

“In many things, yes, that is the case, my lady,” Ludmila replied.

“This rivalry can become a bit…intense sometimes,” Lady Shalltear said, “but it has never grown to the point where His Majesty’s realm has suffered for it.”

“Thank you for the explanation, my lady. I will keep this in mind.”

As they waited in silence, Ludmila looked at the Elder Lich that had stood on the other side of her for the entire conversation. It displayed no reaction to the accusation that it had been dispatched as a form of harassment. She heard shuffling steps as the old man reappeared. Ludmila turned to face him as he placed several documents between on the polished counter, pushing them forward.

“These are the relevant templates that you should use when drawing up bills and invoices related to Guild business. Make sure that the staff that you assign to work with us are familiar with the format.” He straightened after his explanation, “Your registrations with the Guild are now complete and your account balances have been updated. These are your balance books. Is there anything else you need, Minister Bloodfallen? Baroness Zahradnik?”

Ludmila reached out to take the small booklet bound in black vellum. She opened the unmarked cover: the front page was similarly blank, but the next page had rows and columns lined upon it. Written on the first row was the balance of her account with the Merchant Guild. Between the invoices from Gareth Boyce’s lumber yard and the LeNez workshop, House Zahradnik had received 108 Platinum coins. It was an amount she had never thought she would ever have available to use at once. The digits were written in simple cursive, but they represented a responsibility that she would now need to wield for the prosperity of her demesne.

“I need to purchase tools for farming and forestry,” Ludmila asked the clerk waiting patiently across the counter. “Is there an open business where I can find those?”

“Just head to where all the forges are,” he told her. “If there are any working, you’ll definitely notice.”

The answer seemed obvious, after the fact.

“When is it appropriate to deposit and withdraw at the Guild?”

“There are no set rules on that,” he replied, “but as a general guideline, any amount that you feel unsafe carrying around.”

“Can the guild be used to hold coin for anything?” Ludmila asked.

“Yes,” the clerk nodded. “We prefer it that way, in fact. It’s easier to deal on paper, but a lot of people can’t trust that. Unless you’re a high noble, you probably can’t afford the type of security that the guild has. The new King has also contributed some of his soldiers to ensure that the wealth of the city remains secure.”

“Then you don’t mind if wages and such are withdrawn by my staff?”

“Mmh,” the clerk grunted. “Petty amounts should be withdrawn as part of a lump sum. We’ve a few members that send escorts with their agents to collect wages for the whole of their staff to be distributed at their business or homes. You should do the same.”

“Is there anything I should avoid doing?”

“Nothing illegal: you’ll be reported to the relevant authorities if you do,” the clerk said. “If there are any other transactions that run afoul of guild regulations or seem suspicious, you’ll be informed as well.”

It nearly felt to her a barb, though the man probably did not know. If House Zahradnik had used the services of the Guild instead of relying on themselves, generations of financial hardship might have been circumvented altogether. It brought to mind something that she had thought about shortly after learning the depressing reality.

“Does the Guild recommend merchants?” She asked, “I would like to hire staff that can manage the commercial transactions for my demesne.”

“Hmm…we set up apprentices with masters, but it’s rare that a noble comes looking. They usually employ the ones from their own fiefs,” the man scratched his chin as he thought. “The city’s had a pretty good shakeup, so there might be some loose ones available.”

He fished up a blank sheet of paper, placing it on the counter between them.

“Put down what you’re looking for here. The types of goods and services you’ll be dealing in, compensation, licenses you’re offering, security arrangements and such.”

Ludmila’s borrowed pen scratched over the paper for several minutes as she tried to think of everything she might need. When the old man read over her requirements, his eyebrows rose.

“I’ve…never seen a request like this before,” he told her. “Nobles usually hire their own merchants to assist with managing things, but you’re looking to put one on retainer to help handle the business of your fief. Most nobles are passable at dealing with their own territories, so they tend to have a hand directing their own production and trade. If it comes down to it, they’ll have one of their children trained as a professional merchant to run the family business.”

“House Zahradnik has never been known for being merchants,” despite herself, Ludmila still nursed some of the bitterness from the afternoon in her heart. “I will have my hands full directing the development of my fief, so I would feel much more comfortable if there was someone to take care of this end of things…several such retainers, if necessary.”

“Well, any merchant will hire apprentices and assistants when business is good, so it should be the same for whoever you take in, except that apprentice will become a member of your retinue as well. Most merchants can’t do better than what a noble’s retainer gains through their service, but the sudden exposure to authority and wealth is sure to get into most people’s heads. I’ll see what I can do, but I wouldn’t hope for anything spectacular – especially with things as they are right now.”

Ludmila nodded at the response. The old clerk’s reply brought her to her last question.

“I understand,” she said. “Send word to my residence in the central district if you find anyone appropriate. There is just one last thing both the Minister and I would like to know.”

“And what is that?”

“The city has become…paralyzed after the duchy changed hands,” Ludmila said. “The markets and shops are closed and, barring the few places I’ve found, the various industries have become silent as well. How is it that the Merchant Guild remains open? Or more to the point – how can you still stand and serve clients here, when nearly all of your associates still hide in their homes?”

“That’s simple,” the clerk didn’t even bother to stop and think before answering, “the city is open, so the Guild is open. In our line of work, we deal with the fear that comes with opportunity and risk every single day – those that lose themselves to their fear have no right being here.”

Birthright: Act 2, Chapter 22

Chapter 22

The cool air of the spring evening greeted them as they left the Merchant Guild and descended the stairs to where the wagon awaited in the plaza below. Ludmila flipped through the materials that she had received from the clerk briefly before returning to study the invoice template. The paper was more sturdy and thicker than a normal sheet would be, feeling slightly heavier in her hand; it was designed to be durable as a long term reference to create duplicates from. She had a thought and turned to the Elder Lich.

“Are you able to create copies of this template?” Ludmila asked.

She held out the sheet, and the Elder Lich immediately took it into its hand.

“Easily.”

The Undead attaché’s raspy voice held no apparent emotion as it spoke, but the near instant reply gave the impression that it had scoffed at her question.

“I need five copies for this evening,” she instructed her attaché, “and fifty additional forms by the morning.”

It faced forward and set about its task as the wagon rolled off towards its destination. The flutter of leathery wings turned Ludmila’s head towards the Elder Lich again as the Imp alighted on its shoulder. She watched as her attaché held out a solid board that it had produced from somewhere to use as a writing surface. The Imp deftly drafted the first copy not long after as the pair floated forward alongside the wagon. They studied the work together and, after finding the results satisfactory, continued their task.

“Is it really necessary to have that many copies at once?” Lady Shalltear voiced her question as the shadows of the eastern quarter fell over them.

“They are for the residence in the city, my lady,” Ludmila replied, “if my household needs to order anything or do any other business on my behalf, they will be able to use the account at the Merchant Guild if I prepare forms in advance. The manner of conducting transactions that the clerk described seems to have fewer faults than simply handing over a bag of coin to be kept in the manor.”

“You don’t trust your servants?”

“Well, I have barely known them for a day,” Ludmila said, “though even if they had earned decades of trust, the system in use by the Guild still seems far more elegant overall in function. Out in the barony, there will be a need for funds on hand so it will be the usual methods there.”

“The lives of Humans seem filled with uncertainties,” Lady Shalltear shook her head. “You cannot trust your servants and your purpose in life is undefined and seemingly ever changing.”

“You are able to always fully trust your servants, my lady?”

“Of course. All the way down to the lowest being. They are bound to me – inextricably a part of my realm. Having them turn on me of their own will would be as inconceivable as your legs walking off without the rest of your body of their own volition. Deception in crucial matters is unthinkable, as is failure,” Lady Shalltear’s gaze observed the surroundings that they travelled through. “Yet Humans can ignore their obligations so easily. So few continue to function in this city, while the rest neglect their roles in your society to the eventual ruin of all. I’ve even witnessed those that would turn on their fellows, if only for a moment’s reprieve from their hardships.”

Ludmila listened quietly as her liege spoke. That everyone who served her could be treated with such confidence felt fantastically unrealistic. It was no small wonder that the Royal Council would be frustrated with the seemingly unreliable citizens of the duchy if this was truly the case. Perhaps the Sorcerous Kingdom would always look down on their Human citizens, as the current issues were the result of Human nature rather than any willful resistance or insubordination.

“It is difficult to refute your words with things as they are, my lady,” Ludmila said, “though I had not realized there was such a difference between the Human realms and your own. His Majesty shows great insight to have retained the laws of the realm, even when considering his existing vassals. Rather than have them directly dealing with the unfamiliar in an effort to manage the population directly, his decision allows those accustomed to the workings of their own to make changes smoothly.”

“Then what am I to do with you, I wonder?” Lady Shalltear turned her face towards Ludmila, eyes glowing at her as they went from shadow to shadow, “you are now mine – an odd vassal that does not quite fit in with the rest.”

Uncertain of where she now fit into the grand scheme of things, Ludmila could not answer.

“In many ways,” Lady Shalltear continued, “you are much like me in your role as a frontier noble. You guard the realms of your liege in a roughly similar function as my own in defending His Majesty’s realm. It can even be said that your burdens are far greater. You have not been gifted with great strength, nor vast intellect or powerful magic. Your demesne does not possess strong fortifications or armies. You are ignorant of the world beyond your borders and you are pitifully weak, but you will toil and struggle and fight and die against any and all intruders that would come, as your House has done for generations. Yet, for all of these efforts, your names become as dust to those that reap the benefits of the peace that you win for their lands.

In many other ways, you are different. You have ambitions beyond the immediate service to your liege, and you act as if it’s a natural thing. You actively seek the strength of others with the understanding that you’ll never truly be able to fully trust them. You are ultimately Human, and bound to your Human nature.”

Ludmila was at a loss as her liege conveyed the evaluation. She thought Lady Shalltear had followed her mostly to learn about the city and its workings as well as possible solutions to the predicament that it faced. Ludmila had not realized that she herself was being carefully watched the entire time as well. For all of her strength and influence, the Vampire had kept mostly to herself throughout the day as she had quietly observed her. She thought of the tales of another Vampire, Landfall, and wondered if Lady Shalltear’s behaviour was due to being a wise and perceptive Cleric, a predator accustomed to stalking their prey, or perhaps both.

Ludmila pondered her liege’s words, trying to find an answer they could both find satisfactory.

“My lady, the relationship between a vassal and their liege is maintained by contract.” She began tentatively, “For most nobles, especially those of the interior, it has become a sort of formal negotiation where those long established in their rule find agreeable terms between themselves. This contract – a pact of oath and obligation; duty and fealty – is the foundation of noble society and these realms by extension. It is the core of the relationship between liege and vassal, be they king and noble vassal, or landlord and tenant.”

“Go on…” Lady Shalltear had her chin in hand, looking up at Ludmila as she spoke.

“Nearly two centuries ago,” Ludmila continued, “when people came to settle the lands that would become Re-Estize and Baharuth today, there were no ties of blood, culture or trade that bound society together. There were only the leaders who established themselves over their people, carving out borders and defending their lands against any and all that would challenge the order that they sought to establish in the wake of the Demon Gods. These were the founders of the aristocracy of the Human nations of the north – nobles not unlike the frontier nobles: great captains of men and militant in both mind and disposition. The most prominent houses became the Marcher Lords: many of which you still see holding these titles today, though they mostly no longer carry the same traditions as their ancestors.

One house – the House of Vaiself – eventually unified the lands through diplomacy or war and the nobles who fell in line formed contracts between themselves and the throne. These contracts defined the relationships between House Vaiself and their vassals, continuing down the hierarchy of administration to form the foundation of Re-Estize. This contract, the oath of fealty between liege and vassal, is the core of what it means to be a noble of these lands: without it we are not much more than simple despots.”

“So what do these contracts look like?” Lady Shalltear asked.

“Well…I had thought to bring ours with us but decided to leave it at home since the duchy was fully ceded to an entirely new sovereign. That contract is effectively void now, but some may attempt to have old contracts ratified under their new liege in order to retain certain privileges from the previous government. I suppose since the transfer was so…clean, it would encourage at least a few to try.”

“Ah, so that’s what that was all about,” her liege seemed to remember something.

“My lady?”

“That noisy Count,” Lady Shalltear had a decidedly unimpressed look as she recalled the memory. “Fassett or something. Once it was clear that E-Rantel would see a bloodless transition, he came into the council chamber – bold as you please – demanding that his rights be recognized. As you might imagine, he got a rather cold reception: Cocytus flung him into the Gate that I opened even as he continued shouting about it. Considering how hard he was thrown, he probably didn’t survive the landing.”

“I thought there was only one place where you could use teleportation spells in the central district.”

“He came quite quickly. We were still implementing the framework for the government and finalizing security arrangements.”

“The Royal Court did not even wait to hear him out, my lady?”

“Oh, we did,” Lady Shalltear said. “He was very spirited, so we thought that this noble who had approached us before we even officially started our work must have possessed some merits. It was mostly preposterous, though – I think the disappointment added to his velocity.”

“Then what did he say?” Ludmila asked.

“Hmm…a few things that should have been a given: faithful service, some amount of taxes, the pledge to provide a levy, tributes for special occasions.”

“These are fairly standard in an oath of fealty,” worries began to mount in Ludmila’s mind, “though the details may vary…what did the Royal Council find offensive, exactly?”

“Well, he did deliver it in a very loud and presumptuous manner, but there was also his list of demands. In addition to the guarantee of his title, he wanted ownership of the abandoned territories bordering his own. Then there was the obligation to have His Majesty stand in his defence in court, as well as the full protection of all of his armies, the rights to enforce regulations upon the Guilds and control over the western highway that ran through his fief. He went on for quite some time, but I lost interest partway – the man was clearly not going to survive his audience.”

It was a mix of demands that were mostly within the realm of reason, though the expansion of territory and control over the Guilds was brazenly overreaching at best.

“Lady Corelyn mentioned something about other nobles vanishing as well,” Ludmila said. “Did they end up like Count Fassett?”

“Not that I can remember,” Lady Shalltear said. “Some fled their holdings after their audience – we didn’t care to detain them since there was no point in keeping administrators who were willing to abandon their responsibilities. The remaining nobles were advised to avoid committing the same offence as Count Fassett.”

“So none have attempted to reinstate old contracts or create new ones?” Ludmila frowned.

“Not a one,” Lady Shalltear replied. “Though I don’t even see a point to your asking. Some of what Count Fassett either offered was what should already have been a given and he asked for the same. Everything else was anywhere from incomprehensibly greedy to outright blasphemous.”

“It is still an integral part of a noble’s life,” Ludmila said. “Without it, the relationship between vassal and liege remains undefined and we are effectively without purpose. Some nobles need to add uncommon clauses to their contracts as well. Frontier Nobles, for instance, pledge to protect the realm’s borders. Since their territories are usually not that well developed, their liege is expected to put together a stipend from the other nobles in the demesne that benefit from their protection in order to maintain security. Is that so unreasonable?”

“No, not at all,” Lady Shalltear replied. “But it is not rooted in selfish greed like the terms Count Fassett dared to push on His Majesty.”

“So you would say that arrangements which are reasonable for the fief in question, or benefit the realm as a whole are acceptable?”

“Of course, but you had better be prepared to provide an explanation if I ask.”

“I think we should sit down together at some point and work this out, my lady,” Ludmila was still uncertain of what was safe to ask. “I do not want to inadvertently add some clause that would result in being thrown to my death if I can avoid it. It can come after I have done all this though – I still do not know what His Majesty wants from the nobility for the long term.”

The Soul Eater brought their wagon around a corner, where a large workshop of brick and stone occupied most of the city block. During their conversation, they could hear the sounds of the forge working out of sight as they approached from down the street, so the conversation invariably wound down.

“You’re probably thinking too much,” Lady Shalltear said. “You Humans are weak, and military support in the fashion of your former arrangement means little to nothing. There are those that would say that being productive and paying your due is good enough.”

Ludmila’s heart sank at the words, and she shifted uneasily in her seat. Her original expectation when Momon had delivered the royal missive in Warden’s Vale was that she would continue to carry on in the duties of House Zahradnik, much like how her family had served House Vaiself. However, nothing she could offer seemed to mean anything – indeed, the Royal Court’s perception of what held value was foreign to her own. A gaping void in her identity had suddenly appeared, and there seemed to be nothing that she could fill it with.

Lady Shalltear had described herself serving a similar role in the Sorcerous Kingdom to her own, so Ludmila was hoping that she would be able to empathize with her situation somewhat.

“And you, my lady?” She asked, her hopes dimming, “What do you think of this?”

“In all honesty, I don’t really see any point to it,” her liege answered, “but it is His Majesty’s Will to give Humans their…space. His ways have ever always eluded us in their entirety, so perhaps there are some things that we may not understand or appreciate yet.”

Birthright: Act 2, Chapter 23

Chapter 23

Ysbrant Mesmit grumbled to himself as he walked up and down rows of pallets piled high with spears, tightening the ropes that secured the oiled tarps laid over them. The hardened earth in the shadows of the makeshift lanes were still damp with the rain from the previous evening, and he could see laden clouds once again rolling down over the distant foothills of the Azerlisia Mountains to the north. He thought he heard the rumble of thunder carried on the evening winds and picked up the pace of his work – the last thing the shop needed was to have one of the protective covers ripped away by the stormwinds and his inventories exposed to the deluge that was sure to come.

After he was satisfied that everything was tied down properly for the night, he made his way back to the forge complex, stomping his heavy boots as he crossed the open yard in an attempt to dislodge the mud. He reached the first door and stopped, grunting in annoyance – the habits of his usual routine had brought him to the mill first, but the building had already been locked up for days. Events since the autumn had thrown his entire business into disarray as the patterns of industry were cast to the winds.

The space that was filled with spears was supposed to be the ore yard for the mill, but they had long since run out of ore to process. The spears in the yard were originally an order for the Royal Army, but the army had been routed on the first day of the annual skirmish with the Empire and so the majority of the weapons were left unclaimed and unpaid for. The confrontation itself had been pushed back from autumn to late midwinter, upending the usual cycle of production for the city’s forges.

They had to switch their efforts from forging spears to rushing tools and parts for all of the duchy’s territories that had suddenly found themselves with unexpected, additional manpower to perform their regular seasonal work. Then the advance orders from the Royal Army came in, forcing them to suspend the work they had switched to in order to fill the mounting demands of the nobles that were coming with their levy of hundreds of thousands of men.

His grumbling turned dark as he thought of all the wasted fuel and labour. The spears were now slowly being turned into plowshares, shovels and other tools as he could do nothing but redirect his workers once again to prepare for the planting season. Sheltered in buildings out of sight and away from the streets occupied by the Undead, they worked long hours into the night in the effort to reverse their bad fortune.

The faint sound of an approaching wagon turned his attention away from his grousing. He left the door to the mill and jogged across the yard to the main gate, unlatching it and pushing it open slightly before heading to the warehouse nearby. He grabbed a clipboard that was hanging just inside the entrance of the building and turned around just as the sound of the approaching vehicle stopped in the alley on the other side of the wall. A shadow separated from the one cast by the wagon, which was shortly joined by a second. Ysbrant straightened his posture as light steps approached the gate.

Rather than a merchant and his assistant or a pair of noble retainers, however, two finely-dressed women slipped in through the opening provided. The first was a moderately tall and slender young woman in her teens. Her forest green dress with few flourishes gave the impression that she was attempting to balance a feminine appearance with an outfit functional for more mundane activities.

The second woman projected an image which eclipsed the first’s. Though she only stood below her companion’s shoulder, she had a stunning appearance that would have drawn longing gazes everywhere she went. Her own outfit seemed incalculably valuable: an elaborate ballroom gown seemingly woven from silken shadows that devoured the evening light.

Their attire was in stark contrast to the rough and dirty surroundings of the forge. He had not seen the second woman before – with her unforgettable appearance, he would have had to have gone senile to not remember her – but the first seemed familiar somehow. After considering that she was just barely an adult, he was finally able to put a name to her face. She was taller since the last time he had seen her.

“Hm...the Zahradnik girl, isn’t it?” His voice came out gruffly, “In that fancy dress that your brothers complained about too. Here to use your allowance to buy a spear this time?”

Surprise briefly passed over her face at his recognition before she smiled slightly and spoke.

“My brothers must have said something memorable for you to remember that.”

Ysbrant grunted and he scratched the stubble on his cheek. The girl had a disposition much like her father’s – casually receiving his jabs and returning with an unruffled reply. Her companion showed no reaction either way, scanning the contents of the yard as if a workshop lot was an uncommon thing.

“So, what are you here for?” He asked.

“I need to purchase tools and parts,” she replied. “Do you have any in stock?”

Upon hearing her request, he sucked in his lips and stood in silence for a while. That she had come personally without any of her family seemed like bad news. Considering the fate of most of the Royal Army that winter…well, it was probably better left unspoken – he was already worried that he had unwittingly slighted her by reopening recent wounds, unaware of her family’s fate.

“I see.” He finally replied as he turned around to pull open the warehouse doors, “Well, take your pick.”

The space inside was filled with equipment, tools and parts for all sorts of labour. The women looked about silently as he continued speaking.

“It’s already spring, but no one’s come to buy anything,” he explained as he led them through the building. “Plenty of nobles should’ve sent in their orders by now and we’d be pushing our goods out nonstop, but production’s about to stall for lack of proper storage since no one actually is.”

“It looks like your workshop is still running, though.” Lady Zahradnik said as she handed her order to him and turned to motion for someone in the direction of the gate to bring in her wagon.

“A forge is expensive to run,” Ysbrant replied as he looked it over, “can’t just stop half way and pick things up the next day. We were going to keep working ‘till the current batch of fuel was out, but it looks like we’re gonna have a bit more space available after this order here.”

He turned to walk away before he even finished his sentence, heading out the opposite end of the warehouse and into the smithy.

“Hey Satch,” he spoke to the first body he came across, “get some of the guys and help load this wagon.”

“Yes, Forgemaster,” the young journeyman replied.

Muffled voices could be heard shortly after, and several other journeymen appeared, along with a handful of apprentices. One pushed a cart into the room and the others set about while listening to his instructions. They worked together to move the first of two wide gang ploughs that were on the young noblewoman’s order. They were wrought from iron, and it took several minutes to move. The group got about as far as the exit of the warehouse to the yard before they found themselves facing two undead – Death Knights, if he had heard correctly from the procession some days ago – as well as some sort of horse creature hitched to the wagon. The two groups stared at each other for a good three seconds before his employees backed away and turned around as one, leaving the cart with the plough behind.

The Forgemaster sighed as Lady Zahradnik directed the Death Knights to load the plough onto the wagon.

“Sorry for the trouble,” he apologised.

“I suppose it was to be expected,” she said. “It is already quite a feat to have working staff at all.”

“The ones you see are all live-in apprentices and journeymen. They’ve been able to ignore what’s going on outside, busying themselves with work. They’ll probably end up doing that as long as they have something to distract themselves with.”

Ysbrant felt a bit dissatisfied as he spoke about his employees. It seemed rather shameful that these two women were able to function normally – the Undead even seemed to be working for them – while his own men were basically carrying on by denying reality. Sooner or later they would have to face it, and he wasn’t sure how things would pan out. The first of the ploughs had already been securely loaded by the time the next one was rolled out on another cart. The two groups somehow alternated to avoid contact with one another as they continued delivering tools to the wagon.

“I am just glad I could find someone to purchase equipment from,” the young noblewoman said as the three of them watched the strange dance going on in front of them. “Once the other nobles get back to managing their fiefs, you might have a monopoly on their business.”

The Forgemaster snorted.

“If only it was that easy,” he replied. “A big noble like Jezne or Fassett could clean out my entire inventory ten times over in one trip and still come back for more later. I don’t even have the raw materials with all of the trade dried up. Even though the other forges might not all be working, they’re still hoarding what they have left.”

He pointed over to a different part of the yard, where the thousands of iron spears were laid out, covering most of the open space along the far wall.

“Only thing that’ll probably keep us going are all the unclaimed weapons that the Royal Army didn’t pick up,” he said. “They ordered them to replace lost or broken equipment for the month or so that they expected to be here for, but now we’ll have to melt them back down and recast them for lack of ore.”

“Did they pay you for the spears?” The Baroness asked.

“Nope. Just have to make do. The city’s feeding the people for free right now, so at least we got one less thing to worry about. Want to buy one?”

Lady Zahradnik replied after considering his offer for a moment.

“Now that you mention it, yes. A few other things as well, if you have them.”

“Hah. Guess I was right when you came in, after all.”

Ysbrant led the group away through the complex as the wagon continued to be loaded, taking them between the buildings towards the back door of the closed shop that faced the street. It was propped open by a large stone, but the interior was not lit. He strode in without slowing, hitting the service bell with his palm as he passed the sales counter and walked straight to the storefront to open the wooden shutters.

He unleashed a great amount of clattering, curses and stomping about as he moved across the windows to open the locked shutters facing the street. Most of the store was a showroom for equipment: suits of all types of armour as well as a variety of weapons displayed in the rows. He returned to the counter and slapped the bell again, and when there was still no response he started hitting it repeatedly.

Muffled yelling could be heard from above, but he kept striking the bell. Finally there was the sound of someone coming down the stairs in a rush and the sound of the bell stopped. A man in his twenties looking half-asleep came down out of the stairwell and immediately started shouting.

“The hell is wrong with you, you fat sack of sh–”

“Customer.”

Ysbrant cut him off, anticipating his outburst. With business as it was, his shop clerk had turned into an inactive lump, sleeping most of his days away.

The man on the stairwell abruptly cut off his words mid-sentence, looking to the group, back to the Forgemaster, then back again. He finished his descent while tucking in his shirt and grabbed a worker’s hat to cover his unruly head of hair. Putting his palms together, he seemed uncertain what to say after his coarse display.

“Feel free to take a look around,” the Forgemaster filled in for him. “This guy’ll take care of you if you find something.”

As the two noblewomen browsed the aisles, the man stepped out from behind the counter to follow. Ysbrant folded his arms and leaned against the doorframe leading to the back as he watched them. Lady Zahradnik stopped to take a spear from a rack that lay against the near wall. The smooth wooden haft of the polearm was as tall as she was, with a steel blade that extended an additional forty centimetres.

“You use a spear?”

There was a pleasant sounding voice as her companion spoke for the first time, but Ysbrant frowned when a dubious expression appeared on the girl’s face as she examined the weapon. It reminded him very much of a prideful noble that looked down on equipment that did not strike their fancy.

“Our entire village was trained to use them, my lady,” Lady Zahradnik replied as she placed the spear back and examined another, “we found ourselves fighting monsters and beasts perhaps more than Demihumans; they are well suited to dealing with those problems.”

As Ysbrant pondered who the girl that Lady Zahradnik was deferring to might be, he saw her eyes go to the spear that the taller woman had just rested back on its stand. She examined it with that same, dubious expression for a while before her delicate, gloved hand reached up towards the blade of the spear.

The Forgemaster straightened from where he was leaning to warn her of the sharpness of the blade. Before he could, however, he saw her pinch it between two fingers. It bent suddenly at a ninety degree angle, then was just as suddenly straight again. If the girl had not been surreptitiously peeking about after the fact with a guilty look on her face, he would have sincerely doubted what had just happened.

The shop clerk was too preoccupied gazing at the women from behind and had not noticed what had happened to the poor spear. When his eyes met with hers, she offered an innocent smile as she put the spear back on its mount and the clerk’s expression slackened in a ridiculous way until Ysbrant walked up to slap him upside the back of his head.

He gave the clerk a glare after the man turned on him with a hurtful expression and, by the time they looked back to the aisle, the two nobles had disappeared around the corner. The spear which had been mysteriously bent and unbent was missing from its place on the weapon rack. Over the displays he could see the points of two spears being carried to the clerk’s desk, so Ysbrant turned around to see what had happened after Lady Zahradnik laid them upright against the counter.

While this spear in particular was a weapon that one might find commonly wielded by the city militia, it was still forged out of good steel and by no means of poor quality. As he peered at the spearhead, he could see the line where the metal had been stressed and shook his head in puzzlement as he ran his fingers over the surface of the blade. The only reasoning he could come up with was that she was a powerful individual from some far flung place, much like the Adventurer Momon. It would certainly explain how such a delicate-looking girl could brave the streets of the city without the slightest hint of worry.

Over the next half hour, an assortment of equipment built up around the sales counter. A large round shield rested against the two spears and a few sidearms lay on the table: one battle-axe, a hatchet and a long dagger. Two bow staves of different draw weights and lengths lay beside them alongside an open-faced sallet with a hinged visor. Several other pieces of armour were set aside as well – gauntlets, bracers, a gorget and greaves along with an undyed gambeson.

It was a familiar selection that he had seen regularly: aside from the common armament of her territory, there were also many choices shared by Adventurers and other fighting individuals that expected to spend significant amounts of time in the forested regions beyond the tamed lands of the duchy.

“‘A few other things,’ huh?”

“They were…necessary purchases,” Lady Zahradnik smiled sheepishly at his remark.

“I always thought it’d be nice if my wife shared more of the same interests as me,” the Forgemaster mused, “but, looking at you here, I don’t think I’d have anything left for myself if that were true.”

“This store seems to have everything,” Lady Zahradnik remarked as the clerk tallied the bill. “Was it always like this?”

“Several workshops decided to display their wares using a few combined storefronts last winter,” the clerk explained. “It seems to net more sales overall and save room between all of the different vendors.”

“Is there an armoursmith included in your number?” the Baroness asked, “I would like to order mail and a coat-of-plates as well.”

“We do forge armour here,” Ysbrant answered, “but we won’t be free to work on anything until early summer – well, at least if the other nobles start showing up and buying things…”

It was not uncommon for nobles to push their demands onto them, though it was usually limited to a handful of individuals in the more powerful houses. The young noblewoman filled in as his words trailed off hesitantly.

“I will be back after I get my labourers started,” she said. “There are several other things I need to look into, but we are already a week into the planting season.”

“Of course,” the clerk replied with a slight bow. “Then we will be looking forward to your patronage.”

When the clerk was finished with the bill for her equipment – and the cost of the damaged spear – Ysbrant held out the order form she had handed to him upon their meeting.

“Here’s the tally for the tools out back – they should be done loading by now,” he said. “If you’re headed that way, I’d appreciate it if you dropped it off at the Merchant Guild.”

“I don’t mind…though perhaps you could return the favour by doing something for us.”

“And what’s that?”

“Keep your storefront open,” the Baroness said. “Just like it is right now.”

Ysbrant looked at the noblewoman strangely, then looked out towards the open shutters and the empty streets beyond.

“You are open for business, yes?” she pressed her request.

“We are,” he answered slowly, still trying to make sense of why she had asked, “well, there’s nothing to lose now, I guess – and this lazy lout needs to stop sleeping the days away. I’ll do as you ask, Baroness.”

Birthright: Act 2, Chapter 24

Chapter 24

The rains found E-Rantel once again in the night, assailing the city’s roofs and streets; walls and plazas as it often did in the spring. As the torrent washed the dust of the day away, lightning would occasionally make its presence known, followed by a low rumble of thunder that rattled the manor windows in their frames. Within the darkened room of the manor’s solar, a singular figure brooded on a lavish couch; the flashes coming through the windows offering occasional glimpses of his unflinching appearance.

Pandora’s Actor once again spent most of the day in the countryside, revisiting the towns and villages that lined the main highway from E-Rantel to the Re-Estize border. He had just recently returned from the furthest town in Fassett County, where the people had brought him to the largest tavern and detained him with an endless stream of toasts and propositions well into the evening. His role as Momon in the past few weeks was simple to perform…yet, as those weeks passed, he had come to understand that it was an arduous task as well.

There were dozens of towns and villages that served as the centres of their respective fiefs and hundreds of other settlements scattered throughout the territories. The Guardian Overseer kept dispatching Momon and Nabe out to the more distant fiefs in particular, as well as those communities along the main thoroughfares where information could traverse rapidly. Albedo had not voiced the reason behind these dispatches, but he knew well the root of her concerns.

The pall of fear still hung over the duchy, and constant vigilance was required to keep the flames of panic from igniting anew; creating a mass exodus akin to the one that had occurred while E-Rantel was still being formally ceded to the Sorcerous Kingdom. The source of the panic did not even matter: it would enter into the existing tension like a spark into so much kindling, taking on a life of its own. Their shortfalls in this task were made painfully clear by the restrictions that had been placed on them and frustrations continued to mount – it was as if their Master had, in a single elegant stroke of a brush, made plain all of their weaknesses and withdrew into seclusion to allow Nazarick’s denizens time to address them.

Even he had not escaped unscathed from that masterful stroke. The citizens had no trust in their new sovereign or his servants – the only individual that had earned universal recognition and respect was the persona established by their Master: the Dark Warrior, Momon. However, as Pandora’s Actor revisited the places where his previous journeys had taken him, he was dismayed to find that his efforts appeared temporary and limited: a short-lived wave of hopeful emotion created through the excitement generated by his presence. According to the escorts and observers assigned to perform reconnaissance around him, the people remained close to their dwellings even as he came calling, and returned to them not long after he left.

Whatever courage he inspired; whatever sense of security, seemed only ever enough to sustain their fearful watchfulness from within the perceived safety of their homes. Between all of the efforts of his fellow NPCs, little headway had been made – they provided for the people, made sure they were safe and created the mechanisms in which to secure productive and prosperous lives. Yet, even after occasionally being coaxed out to see what had been established for their benefit, the citizens were still wrapped up in their fear and anxiety.

It felt like he was playing to an audience that refused to receive him in earnest and the creeping sense that he was slowly, but inevitably, losing the battle to keep their fears at bay haunted him – that the spell cast upon the people by his Master, the enchantment that was the Legend of Momon, would surely break at some point and its undoing would be his own doing. That Pandora’s Actor might fail in his act created a disquieting sensation that rose from the depths of his being, and it sometimes felt as if he could hear the footsteps of failure stalking in his shadow.

And so he brooded. Unlike some pose that he might have struck because it fancied his tastes, he brooded in earnest and the sense of authenticity only whetted his flair for the dramatic even more: Momon of Darkness, brooding darkly in the darkness. The rain continued to lash against the manor and lightning clashed outside; he thought that the only thing that could add to the perfection of this scene was for a horrifying monster to come crawling in through the window.

Then, as if the world itself had catered to his whims, the next flash of lighting cast an additional shadow: its distorted silhouette displaying itself starkly on the patterned wall which he faced. He rose abruptly and turned to see the figure of Shalltear Bloodfallen floating outside, blurred by the water that washed down the glass panes. As he went to unlatch the window and opened it out into the night, he noted that she cradled a large bottle in one of her gloved hands while holding her dark parasol in the other. Shaking away the depressing threads of thought from his mind, he made to welcome his late night guest.

“One of the beautiful courtiers of the Sorcerous Kingdom has come in the dead night to the bedroom window of the Hero of E-Rantel – bearing a bottle of liquor, no less. This should surely be a source of the most scandalous gossip.”

The Vampire expressed no reaction to his greeting as the wind tossed at her hair and gown.

“Well, please do come in,” he stepped aside and bowed, sweeping his left arm towards the interior of the room. “You are most welcome in my humble abode, dear Fräulein.”

Shalltear made her way into the room, unequipping the black parasol as Pandora’s Actor received the bottle and closed the window behind her. As she seated herself on the couch across from the one where he had been brooding, he produced two fine crystal goblets and placed them lightly on the table between them. With a flourish, he wiped away the droplets of moisture that had collected on the bottle with a fine linen cloth and uncorked it, leaning forward as he filled the vessels before him.

He offered one of the glasses to his guest before seating himself opposite to her. Bringing his own goblet forward, he sampled the aroma of the beverage while rolling the dark liquor lightly. Its fragrance marked it as a beverage procured from Nazarick; holding little similarity to the wines produced in E-Rantel which were derived from the fruit of their local vineyards. There was another scent, however – one that had immediately caught his attention as she glided past upon entering the room.

“That fragrance you wear,” he noted after taking a sip from his goblet, “is not from Nazarick, is it?”

“My Vampire Brides picked it out today,” she replied. “From a Perfumer in the city.”

Shalltear produced a tiny crystal vial from her inventory, laying it on the table between them. Pandora’s Actor reached out to retrieve the item, leaning back into his chair as he examined the offered article.

“Oh…”

“Interesting, isn’t it de-arinsune?” Shalltear remarked, “Even in their weakness, they find ways to create unexpected strength with what little power they have.”

The vial was cleverly constructed: its size and structure made it difficult to accidentally break. In addition, it was imbued with a minor enchantment that gave it nearly negligible damage reduction. Combined with its physical qualities, he questioned whether even tossing it from the window out onto the pavement would have broken the item. Any chips or cracks that did occur would simply repair themselves due to its nature as a magic item, as insignificant as the enchantment was. In the everyday life that this perfume vial was meant to see, it was practically indestructible – one would have to go out of their way to purposely destroy it.

“It’s an innovative use of low tier enchantment, I agree…yet the content itself is also most curious,” Pandora’s Actor turned the vial in his fingers. “I can hardly imagine that this would be a popular fragrance amongst Humans. This individual has not only created a practical low tier magic item but, in a short period of time, has successfully devised a fragrance that seems to be quite suited to the Undead – to whom I can only presume they plan on marketing this perfume towards.”

He returned the vial to the table.

“It seems that there are many gems hidden in this land,” he said lightly, “if one only knows where to look.”

“How much did you know?”

The shift in Shalltear’s previously conversational tone gave him pause. Across from him, she held her goblet between her fingers. Her head was tilted slightly and her chin was raised as her crimson gaze bore down on him through half-lidded eyes. She was much shorter than he was, but her imperious posture very much lent to the feeling that she was looking down at him as she spoke.

Pandora’s Actor once again leaned back onto the sofa, unperturbed, stretching his arms wide over its ornate oaken frame as he responded.

“Now then…I know a great many things,” he replied in a cavalier tone. “Sometimes I surprise even myself with the depth of knowledge that I’ve been instilled with.”

“The noble that you brought to the attention of the others yesterday,” Shalltear’s voice did not change, cutting cleanly through his cryptic preamble, “Baroness Zahradnik. Just how much did you know about her before you brought her existence to our attention?”

“I didn’t lie when I delivered my thoughts on her potential usefulness yesterday,” he shrugged lightly, “though your apparent concern shortly after having her come into your care makes it sound like you’ve something to share...did something happen?”

“Too much has happened,” she snapped, sitting up to peer at him suspiciously. “Enough to make me believe that I’ve been entwined in someone else’s schemes de-arinsu.”

Shalltear’s behaviour suggested that the piece that he had put into play had done something extraordinary in her eyes – to a degree that perhaps exceeded his initial expectations. He had cast the die on the matter of the young Baroness at the previous evening’s council meeting, but he had certainly not expected significant returns on his gambit within a day.

“Then let us go over what causes you to believe this to be the case,” Pandora’s Actor leaned forward, folding his hands in front of him. “I would very much like to hear of your experiences with this Human.”

Seeing that she would get no direct answer to her suspicions, Shalltear settled into her seat and began to speak at length about the past day. She spoke of her first encounter, their journey through the streets and time in the alley; the discussion of that evening; of her time in the civil office and the day they had spent traversing E-Rantel to make connections, secure capital and begin her efforts to rebuild her demesne. She spoke of the noblewoman’s personality and conduct, the interactions she had with others, and even her cursory thoughts on the future of the Sorcerous Kingdom.

Throughout her account, Pandora’s Actor had her stop to clarify various details. He had her expand on her feelings during those experiences, the atmosphere they carried and her observations of the scenes that surrounded them. He beseeched her to share her thoughts on the events that occurred and he would have her hold so he could digest her words and think quietly on their meaning. The night grew long as they sat across from one another and spoke; the bottle of liquor slowly draining away. Even after her words ran dry he remained seated, deep in thought, reviewing what she had said.

“The way you describe it,” he murmured thoughtfully, “she appears to possess some mysterious power beyond our comprehension.”

“She does have powers – which makes it all the worse because, but for a single case, she hasn’t really used them to directly achieve any of her ends in any meaningful way. I’ve been with her for most of her waking hours, observing and asking questions. The administrative systems that Albedo has prepared are as simple to understand for her as Albedo claimed they would be to any of these Humans. The tasks that Baroness Zahradnik set before herself were done in the mundane order and manner that she described. Interactions – discussions, transactions and even small talk were nothing if not normal.

In the space of a single day de-arinsu, she has accomplished in her own small way what none of us could in a week. She navigates this absurd Human society with no more difficulty than you or I would walk through the floors of Nazarick. As she makes her way, everything seems to naturally shift into place: obstacles are only detours – pieces of the puzzle grow legs and walk over to where they need to be. All that she understands and does works in the same way as we ourselves understand their workings, yet she is able to do what we haven’t been able to despite our own best efforts. It is as if we all have the exact same key to the exact same lock to the exact same door, yet only she knows how to open it de-arinsu.”

It was as he had suspected. While not exactly noted for her intellect, Shalltear’s intuition was extraordinarily keen compared to most of the other NPCs. In his own travels with Nabe throughout the lands of the new realm, Pandora’s Actor had also felt that there was something missing, even while he played his role as the Dark Warrior. It was akin to lifting a tablecloth the size of a nation at a single point: once he let go and moved on to lift the next point, the part of the fabric that he had raised up simply returned to the surface of the table and ultimately nothing would change. Though she might not be able to articulate her thoughts concisely, Shalltear seemed to have surpassed that understanding in the short time she had taken responsibility for the young noblewoman through experience and intuition alone.

Pandora’s Actor rose from his seat to pace back and forth across the red carpet beyond the seats in the room. He cradled an elbow in one hand and his chin in his other and occasionally stopped to motion vaguely into the air as various thoughts came across his mind. Sometimes he slowed as if to speak, then abandoned the idea and continued his pacing. Shalltear absently reached for the bottle to refill her glass, but she found that it had been completely emptied and it made a hollow noise when she placed it back onto the table.

“Did you tell her something? Teach her some secret, perhaps?” Her queries prodded him from his thoughts, “Or did Ainz-sama instruct you to do this?”

The latter part of her string of questions held a hint of jealousy within them; since the founding of the Sorcerous Kingdom, their Master had kept himself mostly secluded from his servants so his attention was at an even greater premium than it usually was.

“No,” he responded as he stopped his pacing to answer her. “Our Master gave me no direct instructions on this matter…though one may consider it a rough extension of the role I play as Momon to help stabilize the realm. My interactions with the young Baroness have also been nonexistent since she and I parted ways before the council meeting yesterday – I only admonished her to keep her reactions to what she observed with her Talent in check as to not disrupt the lives of the citizens of the realm, appealing to her orderly disposition.”

“Well, she certainly seemed to take your words to heart – she barely reacts to anything.” Shalltear sighed, “Then the truth of her work eludes us; it is as if all the mechanisms of this world only respond to her act de-arinsu.”

Pandora’s Actor stepped forward to begin pacing anew, then he stopped and suddenly rounded on the Vampire reclining on the couch.

“...what did you just say?” He asked her quietly.

Birthright: Act 2, Chapter 25

Chapter 25

The room grew still after he asked his question. Shalltear looked up to him questioningly as she slowly repeated herself.

“The truth of her work eludes us,” she said. “It is as if all the mechanisms of this world only respond to her act…de-arinsu?”

Pandora’s Actor straightened himself. He held his gauntleted hands up before him, absently staring down at the black metal encasing his fingers.

“What a fool I have been,” his soft words were filled with ruefulness and disdain.

He slowly turned his hands over, then turned his palms upwards again. He flexed his fingers repeatedly until his hands finally balled up tightly into fists.

“A fool!” His wailing shout filled the room, “To think that I, of all people, should have allowed this to escape my notice.”

Pandora’s Actor’s voice smouldered as he continued to berate himself.

“How great my hubris must have been, to have blinded me from this simple truth!”

Shalltear looked at him worriedly over his sudden change in disposition.

“Are you…is everything alright de-arinsuka?” She asked.

“No! Everything was wrong!” He cried in despair, “I was wrong about everything. To think that I, the greatest of actors in Nazarick, had disregarded this piece of wisdom left by the Supreme Beings…until now. Thanks to your reminder, meine Dame, everything is right again. It is not too late to act.”

He looked back down to his hands – still curled into fists – at the end of his words and opened them. Then a chuckle escaped his lips. The chuckle turned into a laugh, and the deep sound rose until it filled the room as he threw his head back uproariously, throwing his arms wide as his body shook. Bits of Momon’s armour were unequipped in sequence, until only the militant mustard uniform of Pandora’s Actor remained. Its polished medals, buttons and chains glistened as he expressed his joy and the worries that stained his thoughts were washed away.

“What did I remind you of?” Shalltear’s face was a mass of confusion, “I don’t understand.”

Pandora’s Actor stilled his laughter, but his mirth remained. He looked back down to the Vampire watching him from the couch. In a sudden move, he leaned over to lightly grasp Shalltear’s fingers, pulling her gently from her seat as she let out a surprised noise. He swept her across the floor in an impromptu waltz, leading her through several joyful turns around the room. As the pair returned to where they had started, he paused dramatically to speak.

“Die ganze Welt ist Bühne…”

He led her into a final turn, raising his arm to twirl her out to arms’ length. With his free hand, he removed his cap, holding it over his heart as he genuflected before his speechless partner.

“...und alle Frauen und Männer bloße Spieler!”

He rose again, the atmosphere surrounding him undiminished. He continued to hold onto her fingers as he spoke.

“I was a fool,” he said quietly. “I perhaps thought myself above the others, who saw all who fell under the dominion of Nazarick as new acquisitions – as pawns to be used to achieve the ends desired by our Master. Yet I did just the same: I saw them as an audience, who only needed to respond to my act to produce the results that I desired. I see now that I was wrong; I see now what must be done.

The people of this world are not like us: created to serve, existing assured in our purpose and common cause. Instead, they come together to develop civilizations with the cultures and societies that they have found to best suit their species in the circumstances that they each find themselves in. It is as much a part of them as our existence is to us: we cannot expect them to become something else simply because we fashion new paths that we arbitrarily decide are fit for them, even though they may rightly be so.

The Humans of this realm do not act out their lives on this stage alone; their roles are intertwined with the roles of many others, and those other roles with their own intertwined. And so we must create a place where they can all act, and it must be a place where all newcomers can join the act as well, regardless of their origin. What we have built here so far – what we have planned to build in the future – is but a body without a soul; a sad puppet held aloft by the strings of our shallow machinations, bereft of the spark of life. A place for everything, and everything in its place...but not a place to be. For the Sorcerous Kingdom to become what our Master desires, all of its citizens must join on its stage: to act and sing and dance according to the roles that their lives lead them to fill.

We knew this – we knew! Yet even as our eyes perceived it, we blindly refused the existence of beings so different than us. Before His seclusion, our Master even helped establish the initial laws and policies of the realm, yet we were all blind to this truth that He so plainly pointed us to. We took the words that carried His Will – words that we should have embraced wholly – and…twisted them into conditions: challenges to be faced and defeated through artifice, contrivance or technicality.”

Shalltear listened attentively as he shared his explanation. She opened her mouth several times while he spoke, then closed it again without interrupting his words. When at last he finished, she asked a question.

“Then we should tell the others about this, no? The truth of the Sorcerous Kingdom that Ainz-sama wishes to create.”

“You reported none of what you told me tonight at this evening’s council meeting,” he replied. “Why is that?”

“Because…I didn’t think something like this would matter to the others de-arinsu.”

“Indeed,” he said gravely, “it would be to no avail. This truth is something they must arrive at on their own to understand in its full depth. You were the first, I think, though you understand it intuitively rather than in any manner that can be wholly articulated. Some of the others may have grasped hints of it as well, but they do not appear to be fully aware of it yet. If they are simply told, it will just be treated as a new set of conditions to be approached in the same manner as before.”

Pandora’s Actor looked down at the cool, delicate fingers that he still grasped within his own. He hesitated a moment before speaking again.

“I must ask you, Shalltear Bloodfallen…just as we have danced here in this room, would you join me in this dance that all must eventually join in order for the Sorcerous Kingdom to become what it needs to be? Not simply as a pawn, or as a convenience, but as a fellow servant of Nazarick who would see the true wishes of our Master fulfilled – to become a leading actor in His Great Work that would turn this dream within a dream into an impossible and glorious reality!”

Shalltear gave him a long look, and withdrew her fingers from his grasp. Pandora’s actor felt his heart sink. He did not look back up, instead watching as the Vampire crossed her arms over her abdomen.

“Yesterday, at the council meeting,” her voice emerged, measured and calm. “Was it your ploy to have Baroness Zahradnik come under my authority, arinsu?”

“...yes.”

“Yet you came to this revelation only just now,” she noted. “Sebas would be a much more suitable candidate if you wanted to find a benevolent individual for her to serve under…so why?”

“Because he is not qualified.” He answered simply, “He is too kind; too benevolent – to the point where it can blind him to the consequences of his well-meaning actions. If the Baroness had been placed under him, she would not have pursued the course that she had, in order to work out her problems in the ways that she knew how. She would have been provided with everything she needed, and we would have gained nothing for it.”

“Furthermore,” he added, “Sebas is not a Floor Guardian. If ever a time came when the Baroness required more substantial support, he would not have the authority nor the resources to provide it.”

“The others might argue that the opposite is true for myself arinsu,” Shalltear pointed out. “I’m fairly certain Yuri Alpha thought I was going to devour Baroness Zahradnik the moment I had her alone.”

“I did not believe that would happen,” Pandora’s Actor replied. “You are not like that.”

“Hm?”

“The others may believe you to only be an engine of chaos and destruction but I believe that you have other, more important traits that make you the ideal candidate for taking the Baroness under your wing. You see, I made a great study of everyone and everything I could when I entered into this world from my seclusion in the Treasury – you were no exception.

You are the strongest amongst the Floor Guardians and you oversee the greatest number of floors, yet your domain is filled with the weakest of Nazarick’s denizens and you are well accustomed to managing them. Though you may not understand what it means to be weak, you are still able to intuit the capabilities of those under you for any given circumstance. You are attentive to your Area Guardians, even as you diligently perform your duties patrolling your Floors, and you will only severely punish those that fail in tasks that they should have been capable of accomplishing in the first place. I believed that once the Baroness had become your vassal, her treatment would not differ all that much from this, even as an outsider.”

“I see,” he could still not detect any change in Shalltear’s tone. “Is there anything else?”

“There is one more thing,” he added. “The most important thing…though I feel that I may anger you if I speak of it.”

“I think I’m becoming angry just by hearing you say that.”

Pandora’s Actor was not sure if she had said the last in jest or not. That it came out in the same measured tone that was entirely uncharacteristic of the usually expressive Vampire made the prospect all the more terrifying. He could usually turn to his Doppelganger abilities to skim the thoughts of those around him but, as one of the Undead, Shalltear was immune to this. He decided that he should check her disposition before going further but, to his surprise, her face seemed as calm as her voice when he finally looked up.

He held her gaze for several moments before speaking again.

“It is because you are the greatest of the Floor Guardians; yet even as you are, you have also experienced the greatest failure. Your pride: the supremely self-assured pride that we have in our being creations of the Supreme Beings has been shattered. Everyone – including you yourself – stands ever ready to examine your faults…no matter how insignificant they may seem. You are broken, Shalltear Bloodfallen: and because you are broken you are the most eminently qualified.”

Pandora’s Actor resisted the urge to pace about as he hurled himself into his words. This was too important, and he poured all of his energy into conveying his thoughts to Shalltear, who continued to maintain the calm expression that gave none of her own away.

“Our Master has done much in these past few months since our arrival in this strange new world,” he continued. “So many things He has done that seem so incomprehensible, yet there is one thing that we have all been made to feel keenly. Throughout this time, He has…tested us: cast us into situations that lead to failure and defeat. He makes decisions that make us question our own abilities – to reexamine ourselves and the way that we perceive His Will. All of us come out changed in ways we would not have conceived of as our former selves.

This is the crucible that Ainz-sama has cast us into. A creator’s crucible. The crucible of the greatest of the Supreme Beings. We are left to be exposed to the flames of our trials and those very flames burn away our impurities and prepare us to be forged anew. It is for you, Shalltear Bloodfallen, that these flames burned the brightest; the hottest – all has been taken away, leaving only the very essence of yourself. I believe that you have been ready to be reforged for our Master’s purposes for some time now; with the revelation of this evening, I am even more convinced of this.

The scales of pride and presumption have fallen from your eyes and, in this new realm of our Master, all the experiences of your travels; all of the duties you are assigned, will be the hammer blows that will forge you into the instrument of His Supreme Will. Be it as His Lance or His Lady, you shall be the one that binds the people of this world together on the grand stage of His Great Work.”

Shalltear’s expression did not change, even as he concluded his appeal. The silence which followed his heartfelt outpouring stretched for a minute, then two, and Pandora’s Actor dared not to break it lest he mar her decision in some way. The quiet rustle of silken skirts was the first sound to fill the room as Shalltear turned to walk away. With unhurried steps, she went past the couch and around the table; the handle of her black parasol appeared over her wrist.

With his cap still held over his chest, Pandora’s Actor turned to watch her as she made her way back to the window by which she had entered. The window was opened, and the sound of the rain outdoors dampened his spirits even as his mind raced to salvage the situation.

I thought I finally understood – everything was in place! Where did I go wrong? Was it something I said? How did I fail?

As he berated himself, finding more flaws; more possibilities and potential problems in his performance, the rain continued in its cold accompaniment. He looked up from his thoughts and moved to close the window, then stopped when he saw that Shalltear had not yet left. She was gazing up at the night sky, the lazy curls of her silver hair framing the pale beauty of her face. She did not turn to face him as she spoke, continuing to watch the downpour.

His breath caught when he finally heard her decision over the sound of the rain.

“I will play my part,” she said softly. “For Ainz-sama’s sake.”

Birthright: Act 3, Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Aemilia sat up from her bed with a start.

Abruptly waking in the night was a common thing in E-Rantel as of late, with the citizens sleeping fitfully after the shadow of the Undead Sorcerer King fell over the land. Like many others, she had become a mess of looming fears and frayed nerves in the past week since the city was ceded. The heavy metallic tread of the monstrous Undead patrols; the sense that something evil had just flown over her roof, and the nightmares which haunted her dreams would all take turns prodding her into fearful wakefulness layered in a sheen of cold sweat. The exhaustion made her hours out of bed seem a waking nightmare which blurred from one day into the next.

The reason for her sudden panic this time, however, was caused by none of these. Instead it was because she had, for the first time in what seemed an eternity, slept soundly. The previous evening, Aemilia had flopped onto her bed after ensuring her mistress was settled for the night and by the time she stirred again the light of dawn was peeking out from behind the curtains of the room’s windows. Alarmed by the idea that she might have slept in, her eyes shot open and she dashed out from beneath her covers. Tiptoeing to the drapes, she opened the windows of her bedchamber to banish the drowsiness that still clung to her with the chill of the morning air.

Aemilia tossed her nightwear into the room’s laundry basket and quickly slipped into a fresh woolen shift. She moved on to prepare the rest of her outfit, and the only point in her frenzied activity where she slowed was when she took her time to ensure that her uniform and general appearance met the standards of presentability befitting a maid. Looking at herself in the body-length mirror that stood beside her dresser, she allowed herself a smile at the sight of the uniformed woman looking back at her: a senior member of a noble household, holding a position of honour and respect.

The smile continued to creep and grow despite her efforts to straighten it off her face; tears came to her eyes as the reflection of the maid in the mirror made memories of the journey that her life had taken up to this point drift to the forefront of her thoughts. Well, it wasn’t exactly a journey that spanned great distances: she was born in E-Rantel, to common parentage. Her father was a tailor; her mother a seamstress. They had met at their shared place of work: a large workshop that catered mostly to producing clothing for the labourers of the city and, while the stories conflicted about whether they had a child and had gotten married or the other way around, they remained together to lovingly raise their family with three children in the humble apartment where she had grown up.

Aemilia’s brother, her sister and herself all followed in their parents’ footsteps, starting near the age of six, slowly picking up their craft as children usually did. Presently, her brother – the eldest of the three – had already become a journeyman in the same store that their parents worked in. Her older sister also completed her apprenticeship, but had gotten married and moved to another part of the city a year previous. Aemilia’s own apprenticeship had not gone as smoothly, at least in the eyes of her own family. While she clearly had an interest in clothing and fashion, the line of work that her family engaged in had a distinct lack of the latter, which resulted in her being constantly on the lookout for new opportunities even as she became familiar with the skills and workings of her family’s trade.

Inspiration came one day when a storm in the form of a woman of average height and mature appearance swept into the rough storefront of the workshop. From the corner of her workspace nearby, her younger self peeked up from her tasks as the shop’s clerk was sent scurrying off to find the owner with not much more than a few words spoken with a quiet, but firm tone. To her surprise, what had sent the man running appeared not to be an influential noble or wealthy merchant, nor was it a famous adventurer or a powerful magic caster. Instead, what stood waiting in front of the counter was a woman dressed in the uniform of a maid.

She continued observing from her inconspicuous vantage as the Master Tailor himself came to attend directly to the woman’s presence. To Aemilia’s astonishment, the prideful and haughty owner of the workshop had turned one-sidedly servile in the face of the woman that she had considered at the time a menial servant. Most of the afternoon passed as she watched him work to carefully note the maid’s instructions – which defined the attire of an entire household’s staff in intricate detail – his hands endlessly moving to fill sheet after sheet of preliminary drafts to satisfactorily meet her demands. He did not argue, contradict or make excuses; he simply kept his head low to the table as if there was some invisible hand firmly holding him there.

After they were finished, she turned to leave and a footman, who Aemilia had not even noticed standing in the room the entire time, opened the door for her. It was only after the carriage that had been awaiting them rolled away did the Master Tailor dare to move: exploding into a flurry of action and shouting orders as he ran back into the workspace beyond the counter. He suspended everyone’s current tasks to fulfill the maid’s order as quickly as possible and the entire workshop was spurred in his wake.

That evening, when she had returned home with her family, she had learned that the maid who had visited the shop was the Housekeeper of Count Jezne’s primary manor: the young nobleman had recently inherited his office, and his household staff was receiving new uniforms to represent the change in leadership. Aemilia’s mother had gone into some detail about what it meant, not daring to relate her knowledge in any way that could be construed as speaking ill of the maid, as if she was some existence far above her own. To her mother’s shock and horror, Aemilia immediately declared that she wanted to become a maid after the explanation. Her mother tearfully called for her father and Aemilia found herself facing both angry and worried opposition.

The proud figure of Count Jezne’s unnamed maid had already become etched in her mind, however, and their warnings of how difficult and dangerous it was to become part of a noble’s household had fallen on deaf ears. Fortunately for Aemilia, the Empire’s annual challenges had already become a regular occurrence, so the yearly influx of visiting nobles that came to represent themselves on the field also meant that the guest houses of the administrative district faced a steep increase in demand for temporary maids at the same time. For a few months out of every year, she would step away from her apprentice’s duties – to the continued opposition of her parents – and earn her keep while training and serving as a maid.

The transient nature of the position meant that she spent most of her time as a poorly-paid Between Maid, but it suited her perfectly well since it allowed her to observe many of a noble household’s domestic activities in detail. She did not even mind the cold, bare accommodations that accompanied her low-ranked and unaffiliated position, instead focusing her efforts on slowly cultivating the forms of etiquette and awareness that were required for the close servants of nobility, as well as learning to read and write at a level she thought would be needed for the position that she coveted. After several years of this temporary work, Aemilia felt that she had a firm enough grasp to begin pursuing a position as a permanent member of a noble’s household staff.

Unfortunately for her, she had very little in the way of gaining the notice of her prospective employers. She had very few interactions with the upper household maids and senior staff – the afternoon in the tailor’s workshop had actually been the closest and longest she had been to one, even after all those years working as hired help. The position that she desired, which was that of a Lady’s Maid, saw extraordinary competition. To be the direct attendant of a high ranking noblewoman or one serving the consort of a noble house, it was essentially mandatory to be a noble oneself, as their duties overlapped with those who sought to become a Lady-in-Waiting to a noble family. Even the housekeeper that had inspired her to pursue her path she had discovered later to be a daughter of one of House Jezne’s noble vassals.

This narrowed her prospects down to serving a house that held a minor title – a Baron at most, or perhaps in the secondary manor of a higher-ranking noble or one of their cadet branches – though it was more likely that she would see her best chance aiming for a position serving the least prominent of noble families. Aemilia had spent the better part of the year deciding on what she would need to do to get her proverbial foot in the door: even becoming a mistress to gain favour for the position was not out of the question, though she wasn’t really confident she could compete in that arena. Then, the Battle of Katze Plains brought reality crashing down around her.

She could only stand by helplessly as the nobles fled to the toll of the city bells accompanying the news of the Royal Army's catastrophic defeat on the field. Lord Rettenmeier and his entire administrative staff quickly vacated themselves, leaving the citizens to their fate. When the Sorcerer King entered the gates at the turn of spring to claim his prize, she felt as if all of her efforts had been for naught.

Strangely enough, it was then that the door she had long sought to open presented itself. As the servants of the Sorcerer King took their places in the city, so did a handful of maids which hailed from the mysterious place – she still had no idea where or what it was – that had occupied her city. Most notably for her were Yuri Alpha and Tsuareninya Veyron, Humans who did not flinch or cower in the presence of the Undead that filled the streets.

They went around the city looking for the people that formerly served as maids in the central district and, when they came knocking at her door, Aemilia had desperately grasped at the opportunity much like a drowning person would grasp at a straw. Taking her to be sequestered away in one of the now empty guest manors in the administrative district, she was trained for the following week by Tsuareninya. Though meek in appearance, the new ‘Head Maid in E-Rantel’ put her through her paces alongside several other candidates that were gathered from around the city, smoothing down and polishing all the rough edges that Aemilia thought she had already refined to an acceptable degree.

All throughout that week, Yuri Alpha observed the proceedings – though it seemed that she was watching Tsuareninya’s harsh methods as much as the performance of the maids under her instruction. Still, as Yuri continued to hover about worriedly like a mother hen over the ‘Head Maid’ who seemed far inferior to her own regal bearing, Aemilia was constantly wary of the switch that the tall and stern-looking woman seemed to constantly brandish for some unknown reason. By the end of it all, she felt very much like a rock that had been tumbled in a keg of sand, but she could hardly argue with the results.

After attaining the degree of cultivation that the Head Maid in E-Rantel decided was acceptable, Aemilia was placed on standby for assignment as the next batch of maid candidates was brought in to face their own evaluation and retraining. Left to wait on her assignment, worries and uncertainty piled on once again, adding to the general unease that she felt accompanying the inhuman occupation of the city. Her wandering thoughts caused her to wonder if she would even end up in the retinue of an inhuman being. She prayed that she would not find herself in the employ of some horrid, flesh-eating monstrosity – especially not one of the Undead. Her time spent idle only served to add fuel to her nightmares. When she next saw Yuri Alpha, who came accompanied by a pair of Death Knights, she thought her heart would leap out of her chest as she was led away into the night to what felt like her own funeral.

The procession picked up three other women along the way and, under their umbrellas amidst the pouring rain, they were led to a dark and foreboding manor that seemed to be entirely unoccupied. Much to her relief, while they waited at the door for someone to answer the bell, Yuri explained that the mistress residing in the manor was a Human noblewoman who had recently arrived from the borderlands. After waiting for several minutes in the rain with no response, the Royal Maid launched herself onto the roof of the manor directly from where she was standing before the door. It must have been at least seven or eight metres and the maids below gaped in astonishment, uncaring of the rain streaming over their faces.

Following their entrance, Aemilia gathered what courage she had left and volunteered ahead of the others to see to the noblewoman’s immediate needs, and so she was introduced to Baroness Ludmila Zahradnik. If she were to be honest with herself, she wasn’t sure what to expect – her mind was only filled with relief over the fact that she would thankfully be serving a Human rather than some strange and unfamiliar being. When they had been brought to the Baroness’ solar, Lady Zahradnik was in the process of upending her clothing from her luggage onto the bed in a messy and disorganized pile. The young woman, in her plain roughspun kirtle that carried the odors of soil and vegetation, projected the image of a commoner from a poor, rural region of the duchy.

The underlying impression of the Baroness, however, conveyed a sense of dissonance with her rather uninspiring appearance. There was a tugging sensation – nearly an instinct – in the corner of the maid’s mind that the woman sorting through the chaotic pile of her belongings was definitely not what she appeared to be. This was confirmed almost immediately, when a Death Knight came stomping into the room, sending Terah and herself scurrying to the furthest corner of the solar in fright. The Baroness didn’t even bat an eyelash at the entrance of the Undead monstrosity – her only reaction was to instruct it to draw her bath after which she continued to go about her business before it even fully left.

It was not long after that both maids had been swept up in her pace, their training taking over as if they had been compelled to attend to her. Well, to say she was compelled would not be entirely correct: less so than being forced to act, her mind’s eye saw the place where she should fit and she had naturally moved to fill the needs with the skills that had been cultivated through years of training and experience. By the time they had completed her dress, Aemilia was convinced that her decision to become a lady’s maid had been correct and she silently promised herself that she would not let this golden opportunity get away from her.

Her commitment to her lady’s service only strengthened over the course of the next day; it felt as if her heart and spirit had been rallied out of the grey uncertainty that had clouded her mind. The fear that she had for the Undead still lingered, but it no longer dominated her waking hours as she grew accustomed to her newfound place. Now, as she looked in the mirror, she thought she could see a glimmer of the proud maid that had set her on her course as a child.

The sounds of the kitchen below drew her away from her reflection. She needed to ensure that her mistress’ portion for breakfast was larger today; yesterday’s meal seemed insufficient – the industrious Baroness appeared to have an appetite to match her drive. She would then head to Lady Zahradnik’s solar to help her prepare for the coming days. At the behest of her liege, Lady Shalltear Bloodfallen, the Baroness would depart for her demesne today – a trip that she said would take roughly three days by way of the Katze River. Aemilia would be accompanying her mistress, while the others would stay to tend to the manor in the city. A growing sense of adventure and excitement grew as she left her room and started her duties for the day; daydreams followed as she wondered what sort of magnificent territory her new mistress ruled over.

Birthright: Act 3, Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Most of the morning had passed by the time the Soul Eater drove its wagon, bearing the noble and her lady’s maid, within viewing distance of Corelyn Village. Ludmila had planned on leaving the city much earlier, but she underestimated how much time it would take to sort out the household business that she decided to leave in Terah’s hands. New staff for the manor would need to be hired to see to daily domestic matters as times became busier and retainers that could see about the business of running the fief needed to be identified and recruited.

She had left the footmen at the guest manor with Terah and the Linum sisters to help with security, as unlikely as any incidents seemed within the city. The labour force that had been equipped and marched off overland to the Barony was likely more than adequate enough to serve as an impromptu village militia in the event that they did encounter trouble out on the frontier. While the maids were plainly not enthused about the prospect of the Undead hanging about on a prolonged basis, they did not appear as fearful as when she had first met them. She left her instructions, and she told them that if they needed any work done that would normally be handled by footmen, they should just ask the Death Knights who were available in front of the manor. The newly appointed Housekeeper already seemed overwhelmed by her new responsibilities, but Ludmila hoped that slipping in the suggestion would produce the desired results eventually.

After all her instructions for the staff of the city manor were settled, Ludmila made a short stop at Clara’s residence, paid the harbour fees that she owed to her, and then set off on the first leg of the trip home. Her work now would draw the scrutiny of the central administration, as they examined all aspects related to the industries and logistics of the realm. For this same reason, there was no Gate or Teleportation-assisted travel provided as there was before.

As the harbour village grew closer, she peered down the slope of the valley at the rows of buildings to see if she could spot any activity from its tenants. Much to her surprise, she immediately noticed figures moving around the houses; several more were on the dusty road that ran between the village and the highway, following the course of the river valley. As several turned their notice to the wagon which was steadily approaching from the city, Ludmila instructed the Soul Eater to stop where the rural road intersected with the southern highway, recalling the terrified girl that had run screaming from the Death Knights at the harbour.

“Why have we stopped, my lady?” Aemilia asked in confusion as the wagon slowed to a halt.

“We’ll be walking to the harbour from here,” Ludmila replied, pulling the bags out from behind the seat of the wagon, “I’m not sure how well those villagers would respond to having a Soul Eater trot into their midst.”

They had four bags between the two of them, with most of Ludmila’s personal purchases from Mesmit’s Forge bundled up together separately in a tarp. Aemilia had snatched up three of the bags before she could say anything, insisting that it was her job to carry their things, so Ludmila ended up shouldering only one bag over her round shield while holding the bundle of equipment in one arm.

As the sound of the wagon receded into the distance, Ludmila eyed her retainer as she shuffled under the weight of the luggage.

“Are you sure you’ll be alright?” She asked.

“I’ll be fine, my lady,” her maid quickly replied. “It is my duty as your Lady’s Maid, after all.”

As they made their way forward, the scraping of Aemilia’s steps drew Ludmila’s gaze to her maid’s feet. She was wearing shoes suited for the city, which peeked out from under the long skirts of her uniform: the attire as a whole was clearly not meant for rough country roads or muddy village lanes – she looked about to tumble in a tangle of bags and skirts at any point. Ludmila tried thinking of ways to diplomatically get her stubborn attendant to hand over at least one of the bags but, after over a minute of travel with the sound of her feet scraping heavily over the dry dirt road, she stopped to turn back to face her maid.

“Hand me one of those bags,” she told Aemilia as she laid her spear against a shoulder and held out her hand. “You’re going to ruin your uniform at this rate.”

Aemilia pouted stubbornly but, seeing her mistress’ firm expression, she finally relented. Her shoes continued to shuffle over the road lightly on occasion as they continued walking, but at least she did not look like she was about to fall over.

“We need to see about getting you some boots,” Ludmila said after a while as they approached the border of the village. “Those shoes won’t last long out on the border.”

“Will that be necessary, my lady?” Aemilia’s voice came from beside her as she picked up her pace, “I thought I’d be mostly working out of your manor.”

“You’ll still need to move around the village,” Ludmila replied. “The only properly paved roads in the duchy are the main highways, as well as the major thoroughfares in E-Rantel. Most of the land has roads like the one you’re walking on right now. Warden’s Vale sees a lot more rain than the lowlands, so the paths are often slick and muddy – wearing shoes meant for cobbled city streets will have you constantly falling and you’ll eventually injure yourself.”

They passed several labourers on their way out to the vineyards, who nodded to them as they crossed each other on the village road. Though there were fewer people than there should have been outdoors at this time of day, it was a stark difference from the empty surroundings that Ludmila had arrived at the day before. The smells of lunch being prepared wafted over the air as men and women worked near their homes: doing laundry, preparing tools and going back and forth from the shops at the centre of the settlement as they readied themselves for the season’s activities.

As they approached the village square two armed men, in the cobalt-and-silver livery of House Corelyn, standing watch at one of the corners of the square stepped away from their post to walk up to them. In addition to their gambesons laid over with shining steel mail, they wore kettle helmets and dull, polished gorgets. Both held steel bucklers and spears roughly the same length as Ludmila’s own, and at their belts each had a war hammer on one hip and a long dagger on the other. Their appearance was a testament to the wealth of House Corelyn: each member of Clara’s baronial militia were better armed and armoured than Ludmila herself.

One of the pair stopped roughly four metres away while the other came forward to address them.

With salt-and-pepper hair and a balanced posture that lent him the air of experience, he appeared a militia veteran they might have come across keeping an eye on any bustling village or town. His clear gaze went from the taller woman dressed in a villager’s kirtle but carrying a variety of weapons, to the shorter maid standing slightly behind her to the side. He relaxed his cautious posture somewhat and spoke deferentially to Ludmila, probably assuming Aemilia was an attendant of some sort.

“Welcome to Corelyn Village, miss,” his gravelly voice came out evenly, not quite matching the warmth of his words. “What is your business here today?”

“We’re headed to Warden’s Vale,” Ludmila replied as she rested her spear against her shoulder again and fished around in her bags. “Here is the receipt for the harbour fees.”

The man took the folded piece of paper that was offered to him, opening it up to scan over its content. His eyes rose to glance at her for a moment before turning to walk back to his partner, discussing something quietly between themselves.

“Is something the matter?” Ludmila asked.

The two men exchanged looks before facing her again.

“There’s nothing wrong with your receipt, miss,” the older man spoke again, “but the boat is…”

His voice trailed off with some uncertainty as he tried to find words to explain. After leaving her hanging for a moment, he gave up and resumed speaking.

“Well, you can see for yourself.”

They followed after the two militia sentries, who led them down the southern village road that ended at the harbour but, well before they arrived, the pair stopped. Ludmila came out from behind them to see what the delay was. In the distance she could see the figure of the Elder Lich standing on the shore near the pier. She had wondered whether her ‘attaché’ would be accompanying them on their journey; now she supposed she had her answer. In addition to the Undead clerk, however, she spotted several other figures on the vessel itself.

Ludmila frowned, stepping forward with Aemilia in tow. When she was close enough to make out the figures sitting in the vessel, she realized that they were a group of Undead. A Skeleton sat at each of the eight oars; another manned the rudder while two others appeared unoccupied. The Undead standing at the rudder was not one she had seen before.

It had a similar appearance to the Death Knights that stood as sentries around E-Rantel, but lacked the huge tower shield and carapace-like plate armour. In their stead was some sort of armour fashioned from hides, appearing worn and ancient. A great many strips of cloth, resembling the ones that hung off of the Elder Liches, were wrapped about its head and body, their ends fluttering in the breeze. Between the gaps of its adornment, she could see the desiccated flesh belonging to a being of times long past. She thought that it might have once been a Human, but time had taken its toll and worn away many of its features, leaving a ruin that only suggested what may have been.

The blade of a greatsword rested on its shoulder, and it’s right hand cradled the pommel before its waist. At its belt, there hung a great quantity of sidearms – she even spotted several weapons meant to be thrown, in addition to a crossbow. Holding her own newly purchased equipment, Ludmila felt a bit inadequate compared to the warrior standing in the boat. Unlike her gleaming weapons freshly forged, the weapons had the sense of being well worn and trusted companions to the ancient warrior through all of the ages it had seen. She perceived the Death Knights as stalwart and unyielding defenders, but this Undead being looked like the very personification of unholy violence – its armament ready to be unleashed at any moment.

“What’s going on here?” Ludmila asked her attaché as she approached the pier.

“The Royal Treasurer has assigned a crew for this vessel.”

Aemilia jumped in surprise as the Elder Lich replied – apparently it had used some sort of magic to conceal itself and the maid had not noticed its presence near to them. Ludmila was somewhat confused by the archaic term that had been used: the position of Royal Treasurer had long been replaced by the Minister of Finance in Re-Estize. She wondered if the office was similar, and why it still existed in the Sorcerous Kingdom. Aside from that, she had never met the Royal Treasurer, nor any other member of the King’s Cabinet aside from Lady Shalltear.

“Are there any terms or arrangements involving the use of this crew?”

“The administration did not account for the use of ships in this region,” the Elder Lich replied, “so the employ of an Undead crew is currently being evaluated. Fees associated with their usage will be determined after the value of the service has been assessed.”

“So these crew members don’t know how to operate a ship?” Ludmila said dubiously after the explanation, but the Elder Lich gave no further reply.

She glared at her attaché for a while, then sighed – there was ultimately nothing she could do about it. It still felt strange that a member of the Royal Court she had never met or heard of before would intervene in her matters directly. She pondered the matter for a while until she decided that, unlike the Duchy of E-Rantel, whose primary trade routes lay on land, the Sorcerous Kingdom viewed ships as a tool for trade so the Treasurer had become involved.

Stepping onto the pier near the ship, she held out one of her bags experimentally. The unassigned Skeleton nearest to her took the luggage and stowed it away into the hold while the second came up, reaching out with its arms for the other bag she was holding. After they had stashed her things away, Ludmila turned to look at her maid. With some hesitation, Aemilia stepped forward and held out the first bag she was carrying. Her arms were stretched to their full extent, and her face was turned away with her eyes squeezed shut even as she gingerly leaned forward. The awaiting Undead crewman, for its part, seemed entirely uncaring of her presentation and simply took the bag out of her hands, stowing it away with the rest of the articles already on board. Since nothing terrible had happened to her, Aemilia handed over the other bag in a slightly more normal fashion.

Relieved of their burdens, Ludmila turned and walked back towards the village, placing her hand on the small of Aemilia’s back to guide her forward, lest she bump her into the water. She paused in her steps as they passed in front of the invisible Elder Lich.

“I’ll be in the village a while. There are a few things we need to purchase before departure.”

Birthright: Act 3, Chapter 3

Chapter 3

As Ludmila and Aemilia headed back to the village square they came across the two sentries again, who had not moved from where they had left them. The men looked over the pair incredulously as they approached, and the elder of the two was the one to speak again as they started to walk by.

“How did you…no, wait,” the man peered at her. “You’re the Zahradnik girl, aren’t you? I saw you last winter – you’ve gotten taller now.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Aemilia somehow straighten her normally upright posture even more as she nodded.

“That’s right,” Ludmila replied.

“So that’s why – I mean, apologies Mistress Ludmila,” the militia sentry said. “I was wondering why there were only two of you…”

“Lady Zahradnik.” Aemilia’s voice cut in sternly.

Ludmila resisted the urge to glance to her side. Her attendant had somehow transformed from the timid girl gingerly handing luggage over to the Skeleton crew to a prideful retainer that one might have expected to represent a powerful noble house. The man’s mouth fell open, looking back and forth between the two.

“Lady…? But that would mean…what about your brothers? And Lady Corelyn…”

The man’s thoughts fell out of his mouth in a jumble; then he seemed to realize what he was saying and quickly bowed in apology.

“I’m sorry, my lady,” he said. “This...this is horrible news – you have our condolences for your loss.”

The other sentry quickly followed suit, bending nearly perpendicular beside his senior. They appeared genuine in their feelings, but Ludmila did not wish to touch on her loss with all the work that was looming ahead of her.

“Thank you,” she replied graciously. “Many have lost loved ones recently. Lady Corelyn is also aware of what has passed.”

The two men raised their heads at her words.

“You’ve seen Lady Corelyn? Is she okay?”

It was the younger one that spoke this time, his tense look and the amount of worry in his voice suggested that he might be an acquaintance.

“In the city, yes,” Ludmila replied. “She is well and residing in one of the guest manors for the time being. The majority of the duchy’s remaining nobles are currently being hosted in the central district. With the transfer of E-Rantel to our new sovereign, many changes have come that will take time to become accustomed to. We nobles have much to learn of the workings of this new realm – as will all of the people in the seasons to come.”

“None of the rumors are true, then?” The young man asked.

“Rumors?”

“That E-Rantel has become a charnel house,” the young man’s expression paled as he spoke. “That the people have been sacrificed to the dark servants of the Sorcerer King, and Undead now stalk the streets.”

“Where did you hear this from?” Ludmila frowned, “Do the people actually believe this?”

“I-it’s what everyone’s saying,” his voice faltered upon hearing the sharp tone of Ludmila’s words. “We can see the city on its hill from the village here, and there’ve been no traders; no travellers. There’s no sign that E-Rantel is alive at all – we only see the smoke that ever rises over its walls. It’s eerie and unnatural.”

After being in the city for a few days herself Ludmila thought the rumor absurd, but she supposed that she could see how the villagers could come to this conclusion.

“The Undead do walk the streets,” she stated plainly. “They fly in the skies overhead as well…but those Undead are serving as protectors of the city: much like you two here or any member of the militia. The citizens that have remained in E-Rantel have not been harmed in general, but they are understandably uncertain and frightened with all that has happened, much like your people here. His Majesty has shown great patience and is providing for their needs as they become accustomed to the new way of things.”

“See?” The older man said as he leaned over to nudge the other sentry with his elbow, “What Momon said was true.”

“Momon?” Ludmila scanned the village for the Adventurer’s distinct black plate armour, “Momon is in the village?”

“Ah no, my lady,” he straightened again and turned back to her. “He was here earlier this morning with his partner, Nabe – you missed them by a few hours.”

“Did something happen to bring Adamantite Adventurers here?” Ludmila asked.

“Not sure – was nothing we asked for, at least. At the crack of dawn, I came out to do my rounds real quick and I found them standing at the harbour looking at the Undead on that ship of yours.” The man looked over her shoulder towards the river, “We’ve all heard of Darkness before, but it’s the first time I’ve met them in the flesh.”

“Did he have anything to say?”

“Nothing out of sorts, really. Said he was out west all week and came to check up on our village to see how we were doing.” He leaned on his spear and his brow furrowed a bit, “It was a bit strange, now that I think about it.”

“Strange?” Ludmila said, “It seems like a very normal thing to ask.”

“That’s the thing, though,” the man replied. “Once in a while, we get Adventurers stopping by on their way back and forth doing work out in Katze. But there’s this…you know, a sense of bravado surrounding them. They like to ham it up; to brag and boast about their feats, or talk about their work nearby and how we don’t need to worry when they’re on the job. They acted like, well, Adventurers. Darkness, though – they weren’t like that at all.”

Ludmila thought Momon most definitely matched that description. Aside from his response to her mortifying episode when they had met, her few hours with him had the Dark Warrior either declaring things with the air of great certainty or shrewdly drawing information out of her. The idea of Momon acting ‘normally’ seemed greatly at odds with her own experience with him.

“Then what were they like?” She asked curiously, “Did they do anything here?”

“Well, we walked up together,” he said, “back to the square, where we just talked about regular things. More people saw us standing there in the middle of the village and they came out to see what was going on; even with a crowd around him he never sounded like he had a big head and kept on with the others just like he did with me.

He didn’t even seem to mind that the Sorcerer King took over and we were being ruled by the Undead. He just asked us how our spring work was going, how our families were doing and if we had any problems around the village we needed help with. He bought some things; played around with the kids a bit; helped out here and there with odds and ends. After he left, I just stood there in the square wondering what I had been doing with myself all week. Seemed everyone was thinking the same – was plain as day on their faces.”

The man looked around himself at his village and the people around their homes, shaking his head. Straightening himself, he seemed to renew his vigilance.

“It was like he was reminding us of the lives we had, of what we still needed to do and all the folks that depended on us – things that would keep on going no matter what distant throne claimed lordship over the land. I always thought a Hero would just be another Adventurer out killing even bigger monsters; impressive, to be sure, but far beyond simple people like us. But Momon…he reached down from that high place and pulled us up to stand with him, out of a haze just as deadly as the one out there on the plains.

Without those two greatswords even leaving his back, he showed us what a true Hero is – and that we didn’t need to be powerful Adventurers to be there for those around us.”

The sentry had a wistful expression on his face and a gleam in his eye as he finished, then he flushed slightly and coughed in embarrassment. The militia parted ways with them, returning to their posts.

As they headed towards the small selection of shops on the street that serviced the village, Ludmila wondered what sort of magic Momon had used to breathe life back into Corelyn Village. Beyond her own retinue, she did not feel that any of her actions in the previous day had changed much in the city as she went from place to place with Lady Shalltear.

Reminding herself that the journey ahead of them would be long and there would be plenty of time to ponder along the way, she turned her focus to what she needed to purchase for her maid. Nearly an hour later, they returned to the ship with far more than Ludmila had expected to come away with.

It was an oversight of her own making; she had assumed Aemilia would prepare on her own for life in the Barony. In addition to proper footwear, her maid had not packed warm, durable clothing in general. Somehow, several other purchases of her own were added along the way as they browsed through the shop’s inventory, and they filled yet another sack which she was now handing over to one of the Skeleton crewmen. As she hopped down onto the deck and helped Aemilia aboard, a little voice in the back of her head was reprimanding her for having the coin on hand to tempt her into overspending.

After seating themselves ahead of the mast in front of the oarsmen, she looked around at the silent Skeleton crew. Her gaze went from the Skeletons to the Elder Lich, then to whatever the one with all the weapons was. She had no idea where to start and waved over her attaché.

“How much do they know about operating a ship?” She asked after it came close.

“They will understand your instructions according to your intent,” it replied. “So long as they are straightforward.”

It was becoming decidedly annoying how the Elder Lich avoided directly answering her if it did not have a definitive answer for her questions. Lady Shalltear mentioned the relationship between her own subordinates, and it seemed that Ludmila was not included among them in its eyes. Or perhaps it was some vestige of the rivalry between Lady Shalltear and Lady Albedo, as the attaché had been dispatched by the Guardian Overseer. She looked to the free Skeleton nearest to the pier, pointing to the ropes which held the vessel.

“Climb onto the pier and release the ropes holding the ship,” she said. “Throw the ropes onboard after you do so and return to the deck after you’ve completed your task.”

Thankfully, the Skeleton clambered up from the ship immediately after she finished issuing her instructions. Rather than untying the ropes that were wrapped around the short pilings, however, it lifted them off while they were still knotted and threw them onboard. The Skeleton jumped back onto the deck with a light clunk.

“Make sure you undo those knots when casting off next time,” Ludmila said as she walked over and kneeled down to untie the ropes.

As her hands worked, all of the Undead on the ship leaned in to watch and she couldn’t help but slow down at the odd sensation. When she finished one rope, she handed the other to the Skeleton that had gone up to release the ship. It held the knotted rope in its hand, staring down at it, but ultimately it could not accomplish what it had seen.

Ludmila frowned. It seemed that knots were too complicated for Skeletons. She looked up to the not-a-Death-Knight.

“Are you able to do this?” She asked.

It put its greatsword away and held out a hand. Ludmila placed the rope into its palm. Within seconds, the knot was undone.

Ludmila was about to take back the rope to put it away, but it seemed the Undead being was not done yet. It retied the knot and handed it to a Skeleton. The Skeleton untied the knot without much difficulty.

“Huh?” Ludmila let out a confused noise.

“Low-tier Skeletal Undead cannot be taught,” the Elder Lich said from its place to the side. “They cannot learn. They will only carry out the orders that you specify.”

“I see...then,” Ludmila looked to the not-a-Death-Knight, “since you seem to be in charge of this crew, you will be the captain of this vessel. Is this something you can do?”

The Undead being nodded in response, and Ludmila set about instructing her new ship captain on the operations of the vessel.

It took several more minutes to instruct the Undead on how to disembark from harbour and, in that time, several villagers had gathered along the shore to watch the strange scene of the Undead crew and the young woman animatedly walking up and down the ship trying to direct them. When the vessel was finally far away enough from the shore and held steady against the current, Ludmila instructed the two free skeletons to raise the sail. Their Skeletal forms were too light to manipulate the ropes, however, and it wasn’t until she called in the Undead warrior that they were able to manage.

With a few adjustments, they were able to trim the sails to the northern winds and soon the vessel was steadily making its way west upriver. Ludmila instructed the captain to keep the sails perpendicular to the wind and to keep the ship away from the shallows, after which she returned to her seat beside Aemilia. Her maid had busied herself by sorting through their luggage and finding things to make their journey more comfortable and, as Ludmila prepared to leave the operation of the ship in the hands of the captain, the lunch that had been packed away was brought out.

Ludmila lifted the cover off of the small wicker basket: the meal consisted of the same type of sandwich they had had the previous day, along with some of the dried fruit she had brought in from Warden’s Vale. Distracted as she was in watching the crew and the course of the ship, she slowly worked her way through the meal as they sailed along.

“I don’t remember us taking that box with us, my lady,” Aemilia noted after Ludmila was finished. “Was it here before?”

It didn’t take long for Ludmila to spot what her maid was referring to. Stashed under a portion of the hold sheltered by the deck, there was a conspicuous black box. Pulling it out from the hold, she brought it back to her seat, placing it in front of them. It was a fairly large object that stood knee-high, but it felt as if it was empty or at least only partially filled. There was a light rattle as something inside shifted around when she had carried it over. Studying the glossy surface of the object, she could not even tell if it was made out of wood or metal.

“Do you know what this is?” Ludmila asked, looking up to her attaché standing near the bow of the ship.

The Elder Lich turned away from whatever it was looking out at on the river, not even sparing a glance for the object in question.

“The Royal Treasurer has provided this article to aid you in your tasks,” it replied in its vaguely old-lady voice. “You may peruse the contents at your leisure.”

It turned away again, and two women looked at the box dubiously. Seeing something that resembled hinges on the side of the container facing them, Ludmila rotated it until the front was visible. Rather than a lock or a latch that secured the cover, there was a strip of paper scrawled with unfamiliar writing which sealed the box. The unfamiliar sight caused her to look towards Aemilia, who shrugged in return with an equally unknowing look on her face. With no real clue as to what would follow, Ludmila took a corner of the paper that was hanging loosely from its surface and pulled open the seal.

Birthright: Act 3, Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The strip came off cleanly, leaving no marks on the box. The box itself showed no signs of doing anything – though why she thought it might, she had no idea. Ludmila leaned forward to flip open the cover. At first the box appeared to be empty, but as she poked her head over the edge of the opening, she saw that the bottom of the container was littered with bones. Atop the layer of bones was a single, bleached, skull whose crimson eyes flared to life even as she looked down at it.

Startled, Ludmila pulled back and ended up with her rear on the deck. There was a brief series of scraping sounds, followed by the noise of bones clattering against each other as a Skeleton rose and formed itself. She felt a tugging at her elbow as Aemilia grasped her sleeve and drew close in reaction to the Undead figure rising before them. When it stood fully upright, the skeleton crawled out of the box and onto the deck. It was roughly as tall as her waist, leaving much to be desired when it came to the entire string of events that led up to its appearance. Several accessories came into existence on its form: a collared and pleated white bib adorned with a black tie and buttons hung off of its neck; cuffs and links to match appeared over its wrists. A clean, white cloth was draped over its left arm and a golden monocle fastened with a delicate golden chain materialized over one of its eye sockets.

“Good day, madam!” It bowed slightly as the crystal lens of its monocle gleamed in the afternoon sun, “How may I be of assistance?”

Aemilia inched away as it suddenly introduced itself, tugging Ludmila sideways as her sleeve was yanked along by her maid. It took a moment to untangle herself before she stood to speak to the waiting Skeleton.

“What are – wait,” she looked from the Skeleton in front of her to the Skeletons crewing the ship. “You Skeletons can speak?”

She thought of all the time she had just spent instructing the new captain. Even a little bit of verbal feedback would have been nice.

“You Skeletons?” Its voice turned indignant, drawing her attention to the boxed Skeleton again, “I am not as they!”

Its posture was the very image of affront. Ludmila examined the strangely animated Undead being.

“Then what are you?” she asked. “What is your name?”

“My name? My name…” It pondered her question for a moment before responding, “Well, if you must call me by a name, then that name would be Jeeves. As for what I am…well, I am Jeeves – gentleman and butler extraordinaire!”

Jeeves turned his head up proudly as he declared this, tucking his left arm up against his puffed-up ribcage.

“You’re a butler?” Ludmila was dubious.

“Indeed, madam!” Jeeves replied, his head still held high, “If it is within my ability to provide, then I shall most gladly oblige.”

“Well then, Jeeves,” she was still very much skeptical, “what is it that you do?”

“I provide service for all that would have need of me, of course!” He continued in his upbeat tone, “Adventurers, explorers, prospectors, soldiers and merchants – all those and more! From the frozen rivers of Nifelheim to the fiery fields of Muspelheim my kind come to their call: to relieve them of their burdens; offering refreshment and the refurbishment of their battered arms.”

Never mind loosely following Ludmila’s knowledge of what a Butler was, Jeeves had headed straight off into a totally unfamiliar direction. She had never heard of the places he had mentioned before, but the services he offered seemed more that of a peddler than that of a butler. She decided to put the latter part of his claim to the test.

“I would like to browse your goods,” she told him.

“Certainly!”

A full minute passed while the two women waited for Jeeves to do something.

“Well?” Ludmila asked the ‘butler’ that was standing stiffly in front of them.

“That’s…” a hint of panic entered Jeeves’ formerly proud voice. “I’m sure there’s…”

Jeeves made a series of gestures, stopping after each as if he expected something to happen. Then he turned around and leaned over to poke his head into his box and abruptly brought it back up again.

“My inventory! It’s gone!” Jeeves’ voice rose with his panic, “What's going on?! Wait – you,” he pointed at Aemilia. “Sell me that basket!”

The maid looked askance at the Undead being holding his hands out at her and turned to Ludmila with a question on her face. Her mistress motioned for her to entertain his request, so she hesitantly rose to her feet with the wicker lunch basket in her hands, clearing her throat.

“I would like to sell this baske–”

“Just give it to me!” Jeeves nearly shouted.

“Hieeee!”

Aemilia half-threw the basket at Jeeves as she shied away in distress. Jeeves did not seem to care how he had received the item, however, and made a motion as if he was placing a coin into the maid’s outstretched hand. As he turned to put the basket into his box, Ludmila looked at Aemilia’s open palm. There were no coins: silver, copper or otherwise. Jeeves returned to face them, sounding pleased.

“Ah, much better,” he said, then looked back at the women, “...what?”

“You didn’t pay us anything for the basket.” Ludmila said while she soothed her maid.

“That’s preposterous,” he replied. “Do you take me for some thieving cur? Your payment is right there…”

His voice trailed off as he looked down to the maid’s empty hand. Ludmila thought if Undead could break out into a cold sweat, now would be about the time that he would be doing so. He suddenly turned around.

“Wait, where are you going?”

“...if you’ll excuse me,” Jeeves told them, “I’m afraid I have other business to attend to.”

The Skeleton crawled back into his box, closing the cover on top of himself. It was not long until a muffled racket rose from the box again.

“What! What is this thing doing in here?!”

The cover of the box flipped open again, and the wicker basket that had been ‘purchased’ came flying out. Ludmila had to jump out of her seat to catch it before it went overboard.

“Why am I still here? I should be gone,” Jeeves’ voice continued to rise from his box. “This isn’t right. Unnatural!”

Skeletal fingers grasped the edges of the opening as he pulled himself upright. Half of his skull poked out from the lip of the container, and he scanned his surroundings. The crimson points of his eyes fixed to the railing of the ship and the river beyond.

“If I cannot disappear normally,” he said quietly, “then I’ll make myself disappear!”

Knocking over his box as he heaved himself back out, Jeeves tumbled out onto the deck, scrabbling on all fours towards the side of the ship. As he grasped the railing to hurl himself into the river, Ludmila reached out and grabbed Jeeves by the spine. She easily held onto him, as he lacked flesh and blood or any heavy equipment.

“Eh? No! Unhand me, you evil fiend!” The Undead being flailed about as he was pulled away from the river, “This isn’t right! I shouldn’t exist any more! I want to die! Let me dieeeeeee–”

The suicidal Skeleton’s voice was abruptly cut off as he was tossed back into his box and the lid was slammed shut. Ludmila sat on top of the box to make sure Jeeves couldn’t escape; his continued struggling could still be felt through the cover. She noticed the imposing Undead warrior looking in her direction as she kept Jeeves trapped beneath her.

“Can Skeletons even drown?” She asked.

The captain shook its head; Ludmila sighed. Of course not.

Everyone remained silent, save for the struggling Jeeves, as they continued up the river. It was nearly an hour before the movement in the box stopped, but that in itself caused Ludmila to wonder what he was up to. The Undead did not require sleep, nor did they get tired, so there should have been no reason for him to stop along those grounds. Perhaps he had just given up, deciding that struggling was futile. She stood up off of the cover and warily eyed the shiny black container, waiting for him to suddenly pop out in another futile suicide attempt. When nothing happened, she quickly grabbed the box and placed it back in its spot in the hold, wedging one of her bags filled with clothing between the cover and the deck so Jeeves couldn’t open the container and sneak out.

Ludmila sat back down and took a deep breath, attempting to reorganize her thoughts. She wanted to review all the materials that were packed away to prepare for the tasks ahead of her in Warden’s Vale, but the entire encounter with Jeeves had thrown her off entirely with its sheer strangeness. Reaching into a bag that she had placed near her seat, she pulled out several files and settled down to look over their contents.

Unfortunately, the peace did not last very long. She had barely gotten past a few pages when an odd noise rose from the hold. It only took a moment of her stopping to focus on it before recognizing the muffled voice of Jeeves, steadily growing louder over time. Considering how he had been shut away in his container and packed tightly in the hold, he must have been shouting quite loudly.

“There’s no point in existence.” He moaned, “I can’t do anything. I’m useless.”

“Why must I live this waking nightmare…”

“I always thought ten minutes was a perfectly respectable lifespan. I was right.”

“WANTING TO GO OUTSIDE WAS A TERRIBLE IDEA. THE BOX DOES NOT JUDGE. IT JUST HATES.”

The sound of his voice rose and fell over the wind, the moans and wails swirling in eddies around the ship and up the banks of the river on either side. It stopped periodically, as if squelched by the benevolent will of the merciful Surshana, only to slowly pick up again over several minutes. If Ludmila had been a tenant watching from one of the vineyards that grew on the gentle slopes of the valley, the sight and sound of this ship being crewed by the Undead would have definitely caused her to believe it to be some cursed vessel sailing up from the Katze Plains.

“Ah, to be cradled in the darkness of my cathedral of melancholic oblivion. With naught by my failure and impotence; twin razors to etch exquisite lines of endless agony over my withered soul for the rest of this eternity damned!”

Knowing the absolute ridiculousness of the situation, however, all she could think of was how she might be able to stop it before someone actually did witness their passage and run off to spread horrifying rumors that would send all of the citizens scurrying back into their homes. Even Aemilia had developed something between a disgusted and pitying expression rather than the wary one she originally carried upon seeing Jeeves for the first time, which grew even more pronounced with every new line that was carried into the air.

“Is there nothing you can do about this?” She asked the Elder Lich, “Every Ogre and Owlbear in the border ranges is going to come down to sink us – if only to end this ungodly noise!”

“「Silence」.”

The Undead caster did not even bother turning around to cast the spell. All at once, the sound of Jeeves’ mournful voice stopped, and only the sounds of the river and the wind remained.

With a sigh of relief, Ludmila settled down once again to get back to her reading. Though she had finalized and submitted her requests for labour the previous day, she still had trouble believing what all the reference materials provided had claimed. The 4000 acres of fallow terraces that she had received Undead labour for would normally take several farming communities months to clear, plough, sow and harrow – it wasn’t an even distribution of labour, either. The preparations leading up to both planting and harvest required far more labour than it took to maintain the fields while they grew and ripened.

Almanacs were not unheard of in Re-Estize…but nothing in such specific and concise detail. They usually listed recommendations for seasonal crops, advised on weather conditions and sometimes even promoted the use of magic to aid in boosting production. There were also such considerations as diseases, pests and various projections on yield. The numbers in the one on her lap seemed entirely uniform and arbitrary: as if tests had been done in controlled conditions on a few crops, then added to the book with no further thought. The fact that much of it was left mostly blank beyond headers and fields lent heavily to this idea.

That an Undead labourer – namely the Skeletons – had a distribution of 1 per 50 acres meant that one Skeleton was projected to do more than the work of an entire farming household over the course of a season. She thought it might add up, considering that the Undead did were tireless and did not travel back and forth from their homes, but there were other factors that went into it and she only understood things from her position as a noble managing a fief – she was no Farmer, and did not know much about the precise details of running a farm.

What she did know, however, is that most of the professions that serviced populations of farm tenants would see drastically lowered demand since the Skeletal labour did not eat or need housing, did not need clothing or shoes and did not need apothecaries, priests or recreation. Besides a blacksmith to repair and replace broken equipment, they did not need much of anything in the way of supporting industries.

It was a boon in the sense that she did not immediately have any villagers that filled those roles and nearly all of the produce would become an export of the barony. It was also worrisome, however, because those very same industries and the populations that they would service also gave rise to more specialized labour that she wanted to promote in the future. Basic industries usually paved the way for more advanced industries, and going backwards was impossible unless one had a spectacular amount of wealth to charter a town or a city.

The yield projections provided were the most boggling aspect of the entire thing. The almanac gave a range of 15 to 20 bushels per acre for oats, using the regular methods of regional farming tenants. If the prescribed methods were used and druidic magic was applied, it gave an estimate which increased the yield by fifty percent with a guarantee of the upper range – barring something happening to physically destroy the crops. The regular amount of 15 to 20 bushels per acre was already considered a bumper crop in the best regions of Re-Estize; being able to achieve a harvest of 30 bushels beggared the imagination.

The evening that Yuri Alpha had presented her with the materials, she had stumbled across his information and, no matter how many times she tabulated the figures, the numbers came out the same in the end. If conditions were good and she managed both a midsummer and late autumn harvest, the current allotment of terraces in her small, undeveloped territory would yield a total of 240,000 bushels of oats annually. Assuming 3 bushels per acre were retained for seeding the next crop, it was still 216,000 bushels per annum.

The amount was enough grain to feed over 13,000 adults for an entire year – the population of a small city. Warden’s Vale used to have slightly over one hundred, and now it would have only two, so it would not be unfair to say that the entire harvest would basically be sold at market if things remained as they were. She shook her head, trying to imagine what sort of chaos it would create when the nobles with vast agricultural lands adopted the new methods of cultivation.

The ridiculous quantities of produce would enter the markets and the valuations in those markets would implode catastrophically, making basic staples so cheap that small territories like her own would not be able to generate a reasonable income by exporting them. It was the entire reason she was so confident sharing her thoughts with Lady Shalltear, and also the reason she was already starting to feel desperate for ways to shift the main products of her demesne to something other than what Undead labour could provide cheaply.

Still, that was only if what was written on paper could be proven in practice. In order to figure out all that was required to achieve the projected figures, she would need to produce at least one harvest. Before that, she wanted to at least have a small framework of tenants in her demesne to manage the various tasks associated with directing the Undead labourers, managing inventories and to lay the groundwork for future development. She could not do everything herself, nor did she consider it an efficient use of her time in the long run. Aemilia would be busy around the manor and village and she had no idea when her ‘attaché’ would abruptly detach itself from her to return to the central administration. With this in mind, her thoughts inevitably slid back to the assistance provided by the Royal Treasurer.

Birthright: Act 3, Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Ludmila tried to relax for a while before dealing with Jeeves – it didn’t work, of course, as her monumental pile of tasks pushed her to make any headway that she could. She made her way over to where the glossy black box was stuffed into the hold and pulled it back out again. There was no movement from within as she carried it back to her seat, nor could she hear the sound of the Skeleton’s voice. Whether it was because the spell cast on the box still held or he had finally stopped his nihilistic keening, she could not guess.

The sounds of her opening the box was the first indication that the Silence spell had expired, and the weak voice of Jeeves floated up as Ludmila looked down at the jumble of bones inside.

“Ah, the light – it burns so,” twin pinpoints of gleaming crimson light looked up at her. “Is it an angel: come to end my suffering…or is it a fiend: come to extend my torment?”

Ludmila resisted the urge to shake the box violently, she took a deep breath and tried to maintain a patient tone.

“I would like to speak with you,” she said. “Is it possible to discuss things calmly...or do I need to tie you to the mast?”

There was a long silence before the jumble of bones rose from the box, reassembling itself into its skeletal form. Jeeves stepped out and quietly sat down cross-legged on the deck, slouching despondently. Still, Ludmila was half-ready to spring up and grab the Skeleton should he attempt to drown himself again.

“The Royal Treasurer saw fit to assign you to me, Jeeves,” she said to him. “Have you been told the reason why?”

Jeeves’ eyes turned up from the deck, and his reply held as much energy as his posture.

“I only became aware of my own existence when you opened the box,” Jeeves shrugged. “Perhaps another one of me might know the answer to your question.”

“Another Jeeves?” Ludmila could not wrap her head around what he was saying, “Do you mean another Skeleton such as yourself?”

“I mentioned as much earlier, did I not?” He answered.

“So is your name Jeeves, or are you a type of Undead known as a Jeeves?”

The Skeleton stared at Ludmila, tilting his head in a way that very much suggested he thought there was something wrong with her.

“I am Jeeves,” he told her. “I am also called Jeeves. We are all Jeeves.”

His answer did absolutely nothing whatsoever to clear Ludmila’s confusion. Jeeves went on to explain at length.

“I am Jeeves,” he repeated himself, “as are all my kin. We are all Jeeves. Created in vast quantities and summoned for the convenience of our owners during their travels, adventures and conquests. It is supposed to be a temporary existence, but something has quite obviously gone very wrong.”

“So in this…temporary existence, you’re a merchant? You also said you refurbished equipment – does that mean you’re a smith as well?”

“Not just a smith, madam,” Jeeves replied. “I can repair any of your items, unless they have been completely destroyed. Your robes and staves; your swords and mail. Reimbursement for the cost of the repairs is a given, of course.”

“Of course…” Ludmila’s voice trailed off as she recalled what had happened when Aemilia tried to sell the basket, “but earlier, you acted as a merchant with no results.”

The points of Jeeves’ eyes went to the edge of the vessel again.

“Let’s put it to the test, shall we?” She quickly said to draw his attention back towards her, “I’ve some older clothing that has frayed a bit, I think.”

“I’ve mended all of your clothing, my lady,” Aemilia said. “Everything should be in good condition.”

Jeeves slouched further upon hearing her. Ludmila got up and fished around the hold until she finally decided to unroll the canvas holding her equipment and returned with it. Unsheathing the dagger at her hip, she cut a small slit in the fabric and held it out to Jeeves.

“Are you able to mend this?” She asked.

“I should be able to...” Jeeves replied hesitantly, taking the canvas and examining the damage.

Recalling that it required payment, she drew a pair of copper coins from her purse and handed them over as well. As with the exchange with the basket earlier in the day, a period of time passed and nothing happened. Jeeves looked back up from his task, and Ludmila half expected tears to come rolling out of his eye sockets. How could he be so expressive with no facial features to speak of?

“Aemilia, do you have a sewing kit?” Ludmila asked.

“Of course, my lady,” her maid replied. “Just one moment.”

Ludmila wasn’t sure why she had expected some fantastical thing to happen just because Jeeves claimed that it would. Aemilia returned and placed her sewing kit in front of the limp skeleton, who made a great show of looking depressingly lethargic as he opened it and looked over the contents. He eventually got to work, however, and the damage was stitched up neatly in short order. He lifted the sheet of canvas in front of him, turning it about and looking it over from different angles.

“I did it?” Jeeves’ voice was filled with disbelief. “I di–ahem, of course I did.”

He handed the tarp back to Ludmila, and she thought it looked workable. She held it out towards Aemilia for a more informed opinion. After her maid inspected the mended fabric and nodded, Ludmila turned back to Jeeves to see if his other claims were also founded on real skills. It took until late in the evening for them to finish but, by the end of it, she thought she knew what the mysterious Royal Treasurer had intended for Jeeves.

As she had suspected – after Jeeves had proven one of his claims by mending the canvas – he also possessed the ability to function much like a merchant of sorts. He was able to keep track of inventories, anticipate shortages and manage things much like one would run a store or a warehouse. His immediate usefulness to her was apparent, but he came with a variety of problems as well.

Unlike a merchant, his sense of value seemed horribly skewed. The first problem manifested when he didn’t seem to recognize any coinage aside from gold and, when she had shown him a gold trade coin, he didn’t recognize it as such. Perhaps the Sorcerous Kingdom came from another part of the world that used an entirely different system of currency, though she couldn’t imagine how far removed that would have needed to be with the vast trading networks that used the trade coins stretching across the region and even further across the continent.

Fortunately, he was able to quickly familiarize himself with the locally used currencies...yet his valuations remained the same. Ludmila had to slowly go over a long list of goods and correct him on each of them, lest he massively undercharge or underpay. The values were so far off for so many of them that she decided against using him as a general merchant for the village, just in case she had missed something and the discrepancies resulted in a loss of trust for her house as a whole.

Another problem was that Jeeves did not understand any written languages that she did. The resources provided by the administration were written in the script used by Re-Estize and Baharuth, and when she showed them to him he was completely oblivious as to their contents. She tried the written language of the Theocracy, Roble and the utilitarian script that traders used – which she admittedly was not entirely well versed in – but Jeeves did not understand any of it. He was able to quickly grasp the numbers that were used regionally, however, so she had hopes for him learning written language as well.

The matter of his ability to repair things was also still largely a mystery. Jeeves seemed to only consider equipment and various articles worn on one’s person as items to be repaired. When she asked about buildings and vehicles such as wagons or ships, he was oddly adamant that he could not perform such repairs, despite apparently having such a wide skillset. She couldn’t put those questions to the test immediately, so she shelved them for later.

Ultimately, Ludmila decided that, after he had learned the script used by the local populations in E-Rantel, Jeeves would be suitable for managing the general inventories of the village warehouse, as well as keeping track of shipments and helping out with organizing the labourers’ equipment. The previously suicidal Skeleton seemed ecstatic that Ludmila had found a place where he could be useful at all and happily retired back into his box to be called upon once again when they landed at Warden’s Vale.

She placed Jeeves back into the hold, pulling out her baggage to prepare for the night. Taking several blankets from the largest of them, they set about arranging their bedding for the night. Truth be told, there wasn’t much to be done as they were sleeping in the open hold – the most they could do was arrange their luggage about them and huddle together beneath the blankets in a bid for warmth. As it was still early spring, the air over the river would become icy cold as night fell.

Ludmila was accustomed to sleeping late, so she continued to work quietly with her back to the ship’s mast as the night fell over them. Beside her, Aemilia was aware that her mistress was still active and attempted to stay awake but, as the cozy warmth between them built up, she kept nodding off until all that could be heard from her was soft and steady breathing. Her lady’s maid had done remarkably well, considering that only a couple of days ago she would have probably jumped overboard at the first sign of the Undead. Ludmila wondered how the other nobles and their servants would fare in the weeks to come, and if they too would be assigned Undead assistants.

Considering Jeeves’ confusing sense of identity, she thought it was bound to become a gigantic mess. He had mentioned that his ‘kind’ was created in vast quantities, so perhaps every noble and merchant in the realm would end up with a Jeeves of their own. In addition, there would eventually be hundreds of thousands of nameless Skeletal labourers, and thousands of Soul Eaters, Liches and Death Knights across the duchy.

“Don’t tell me you all have the same name as well,” Ludmila idly said to the Elder Lich as she continued her work.

It was still standing at the bow of the ship, facing away from her to watch the river ahead of them, yet it somehow knew it was being spoken to rather than any of the other Undead on the ship. It turned around and walked over to the open hold where the two women were resting.

“Such things are unnecessary,” it said while looking down at her with its glowing crimson gaze. “Even without names we know who is addressing us, and who is being addressed.”

“Even when there are thousands of nameless Undead in an area?”

“The number matters not.”

Despite its statement, it still didn’t feel right when someone worked closely with her. She couldn’t very well go on indefinitely saying ‘hey you,’ or ‘Elder Lich’ whenever she wanted to speak to her attaché – well, technically Ludmila supposed that she could, but it still didn’t sit well with her personally.

“Don’t you want a name?” She asked, “At the least, it would make things smoother when communicating with the citizens.”

At least she thought it would. Whether the sense of familiarity in knowing someone by name would overcome the idea that they were the Undead that were commonly known to hate the living was another question entirely. The Elder Lich did not respond, much like it did when it could not find a satisfactory answer to other questions she had asked in the past. Ludmila decided that it was as close to a ‘yes’ as she was going to get.

“Is there something that distinguishes you from the others? A trait or accomplishment you’re proud of, perhaps?”

After a pause that seemed so long that Ludmila thought she was not going to receive an answer, the Elder Lich spoke.

“I am the ninth of my kind to be trained under the Guardian Overseer as an administrative official for the E-Rantel civil authority.”

Ludmila was really hoping for a more colourful story. Did such powerful beings really lead such a mundane existence? Something else occurred to her as she thought on his words.

“Wait, does that mean that the Elder Liches in the civil office are the first eight?”

“Yes.”

The powerful and mystical realm of the Sorcerous Kingdom was getting more plain by the second. She supposed it was just from her own perspective as someone who was exposed to the underlying workings of the realm. The nobility was often portrayed in ludicrous and absurd ways by the common folk as well, and most of what she did was paperwork and routine border patrols. On the other hand, Jeeves certainly reacted with great enthusiasm upon finding out he would have a job, so perhaps all Undead servitors saw things the same way.

“The ninth administrator...ninth…” she murmured.

“That name is already taken,” her attaché said. “By another creation.”

“Truly?”

That the Sorcerous Kingdom had names that used numbers made things much easier, and inspiration immediately came to Ludmila’s mind.

“Then…what about Nonna?”

She looked up to the Elder Lich, who was silent for a moment. Then, it nodded slowly.

“This is acceptable.”

Though it had said as much, its voice seemed to carry a hint of hesitation. Ludmila was too pleased with her clever choice to pay it any mind, however. She decided to retire for the night with her small win, and settled herself more comfortably into her makeshift bedding beside Aemilia.

“Good night, Nonna.”

Nonna did not reply.

The Noble Household (Part III) – On Manservants

As the female servants of the noble household are divided into many specific roles, so too are the men.

The quintessential manservant most commonly associated with male household staff, the Butler has its humble roots as a servant responsible for the management and serving of alcoholic beverages. Over time, they have grown into their more well known role of stewardship over the household and their responsibilities in leading the male household staff. A Butler is a senior member of the Household, usually reporting to the Lady of the House.

The Valet is the male equivalent of a Lady’s Maid, personally attending to the Lord of the House in much the same way his female counterpart attends to the Lady of the House. Large, affluent households may also employ valets for the adult male children of a noble family – particularly for the heir apparent of a great house or the princes of royalty.

Footmen are the highest ranking members of the junior household staff, serving as escorts, heralds, doormen, convenient muscle and attendants at a noble family’s meal. They may also serve in the capacity of a Valet to male members of a noble family or visiting guests. Arrays of tall, young and handsome footmen are as much a show of prestige and wealth as beautiful, young maids.

Pages were generally boys employed as couriers and attendants to nobles – both men and women – in the same way a Squire may attend to a Knight or Paladin and accompany them to battle.

Various other roles in the junior household staff are filled by men, and they are usually called by those specific duties(eg. A boot boy is responsible for taking care of footwear). As with female members of the kitchen staff, men that work in the kitchen report to the Cook.

Birthright: Act 3, Chapter 6

Chapter 6

The sensation of the ship listing more than usual and Aemilia’s sudden, dismayed cry abruptly woke Ludmila from her sleep. Her eyes snapped open and she reached for the spear that she had placed on the deck nearby. Throwing open her covers and jumping to her feet, her gaze darted over her surroundings. She only saw the Undead crew who seemed to be carrying on as usual, however; there was no sign of attackers along the shores to either side or in the water flowing around them.

“Apologies, my lady!” Aemilia spoke off to her side somewhere fretfully, “I did not mean to wake you so rudely.”

Ludmila turned her head in the direction of her maid's voice: by the looks of it, she was preparing breakfast and the movement of the ship had caused one of the bags to tip over, spilling its contents across the deck. After discerning the reason why Aemilia had cried out, Ludmila loosened her grip on her spear. She bent over and picked up one of the blankets, wrapping it about her shoulders to shield herself from the ever-present northern winds. A thin mist covered the river and the lower slopes of the valley; it was not enough to become an immediate hazard in the broad and deep Katze River, but it gave the cold a lingering dampness that clung to one’s skin and clothing.

She looked up, scanning her surroundings to orient herself to their current position on the river. She was familiar with its course and did not expect any rough travel conditions until later that day. After she registered the dense forests filling the horizon ahead and the northern extent of the barrier ranges to the southeast, she realized that they had travelled much further than she had expected. Looking up to the perfectly trimmed sail and back to the Undead still tirelessly rowing since they had embarked the previous day, she immediately understood why they had travelled so quickly.

The villagers crewing the ship on her previous journeys did not constantly row the vessel upstream, instead relying mostly on the wind to carry them forward. The speed of a Human crew would also slow at night, partially out of caution, whereas the Undead who were reputed to have Darkvision could navigate regardless of lighting with no worries. The ship was also not carrying its regular load, which would have been the supplies purchased for the rest of the year.

After a wide bend in the river, they would be coming up on the place where the boat had been run aground and the river made its sharpest turns before heading into the gorge south of Warden’s Vale. Once they headed south up through the steep and narrow canyon, the winds would drive them quickly to their destination and they would most likely arrive some time in the evening – a full day ahead of schedule. She walked to the rear of the vessel where the captain kept its hand on the tiller, and warned of the oncoming course of the river. It acknowledged her words and she returned to the hold, where Aemilia had just finished cleaning up the mess over the deck and resumed putting together breakfast.

“Were you able to sleep well, Aemilia?” She asked, “It must be a new experience for you to sail on a ship: some people have trouble getting used to it.”

“Yes, my lady, thank you.” Aemilia replied as she handed over Ludmila’s portion, “I slept well. It’s very cold this morning, though. If we hadn’t stopped to pick up that extra clothing at Corelyn Village, I’m not sure what I’d have done.”

“It gets colder as we travel upriver. It may have snowed in the past few days, considering the rain we’ve had in E-Rantel.”

“Snow, my lady?” Aemilia said, “That’s a rare sight in the city. I’ve probably only seen snow a half dozen times in my life, and it never stays on the ground like you see in the mountains to the north. Still, I’m very excited to see what sort of place Warden’s Vale is.”

The expression of child-like wonder in her tone made Ludmila wonder in turn about what sort of grand spectacle her excited maid was anticipating. It compelled her to try to lower the impossibly high bar at which Aemilia had seemingly set her expectations.

“Warden’s Vale is a beautiful place, but it’s still a frontier territory,” she stepped lightly with her words. “It’s nowhere near as developed as the interior regions of the duchy.”

“I see…” Aemilia replied, but the energy in her voice was undiminished, “but since you defend the borderlands, there should at least be a castle, yes?”

A Castle?

The words stabbed at Ludmila like a spear. Did the other, wealthier nobles even have castles? House Corelyn was absurdly wealthy, and even they did not have a castle or anything resembling one. Certainly, there were walled cities as well as fortifications watching over a few key strategic points in Re-Estize – the city of E-Rantel was an example of both – but the vast gap between reality and Aemilia’s expectations made Ludmila feel like she had already betrayed her maid somehow.

“There’s no castle,” Ludmila said, “but the village itself is built on a series of ramparts for defence.”

“Then...your manor and estate must be quite large with all the free land?”

Ludmila opened her mouth, then closed it again. She wasn’t even sure how a large estate and manor could fit in a village built on stony ramparts. Aemilia really did seem to have a whimsical image of the place where she would be arriving, not even understanding this much.

“My manor is in the village; it’s just a bit larger than a villager’s home there. The entire settlement is defensive in nature, so there are no vast estates or ornamental gardens. It’s just a village that’s only a fraction of the size of Corelyn Village…and even a wealthy Barony like that does not have a castle, or vast estates. Lady Corelyn does have a comfortable manor, though.”

“B-but the wilderness is teeming with savage Demihumans,” Aemilia said in disbelief at her mistress’ words. “With so few, how did you keep them at bay for so many generations?”

“Through constant vigilance,” Ludmila replied. “Every villager was trained to fight, and everyone participated in the patrols – including the members of House Zahradnik. I’m not sure what stories you’ve heard, but it isn’t as if all of the Demihumans in the wilderness are in that one small corner bordering our territory. And they do understand the concept of territory – a healthy respect of one’s neighbors is something that they appreciate, even if their neighbors are Humans. As long as you’re not considered an easy target for their predations, and don’t agitate them for senseless reasons, they’ll look elsewhere for more likely prey.”

“Then you’re not always fighting?” Aemilia asked.

“Not usually,” Ludmila answered. “In times of plenty, the Demihumans don’t need to range very far from their own territories to find food. The only instances where we usually see conflict is when there is famine or disaster in their lands, or new tribes migrate into the region and push out the old ones. When that happens, the balance of power is disrupted and so are the territories of the various Demihuman populations, so we must ensure that their respect for our territory is enforced. Stronger ones also appear to try and make a name for themselves by accomplishing some feat of strength, but it’s not something that happens very frequently.”

Aemilia had become fixated on her words, sitting on the edge of the deck overlooking the hold.

“How strong can these Demihumans become?”

Ludmila seated herself beside her, looking towards the mountains that loomed over the valley.

“They can be very strong,” she told her. “Many Demihumans have natural advantages that we don’t, so trying to compare them directly to a soldier or an Adventurer can be misleading. The last time such a Demihuman appeared in the fashion I described above was when I was still a child. The patrol that ran into him and his companions filled them full of arrows, killing most of his group as they charged their position. Even so, he still made it to their lines and killed a third of the patrol before he was finally put down with a combined effort. A Demihuman like that would be roughly as strong as an Orichalcum-rank Adventurer.”

Ludmila kept a straight face, even as she left out the fact that it was on this very patrol that her own mother had been killed, lest she worry Aemilia overly much. As the strongest patrol leader in the village, the Demihuman had marked her mother out as a worthy adversary to prove his own prowess as a warrior. It was an unfortunate fact of life on the frontier: the strong would seek the strong, in a never ending back and forth between all the races that lived there. If her mother had not been present, the entire patrol would have been wiped out and Warden’s Vale soon after – that was just how precarious their situation had become. Fortunately, her mother’s death had bought nearly a decade free from strong challengers: the latest in generations of sacrifice that enforced their status as a rival rather than a raid target.

“Are frontiersmen really that powerful?” Aemilia’s eyes grew wide, “I’ve heard stories, of course, but you make it seem like even Farmers on the border are as strong as Adventurers.”

Ludmila paused to think of a way to answer her question. The lives of city folk were so far removed from her own that she found herself taking many things for granted, even when she thought she was answering her maid’s questions thoroughly.

“Several years ago,” Ludmila said, “the wife of Count Jezne brought an Adventurer Bard that had earned her patronage to a luncheon for the noble ladies of the territory during the winter markets. One of the tales he sang revolved around a party of brave young Adventurers being set upon by a tribe of Goblins. Most in attendance were aghast when he described the Goblins’ dishonourable and underhanded tactics in battle, but I thought they seemed perfectly reasonable.”

“...are you saying that you fight like a Goblin, my lady?” Aemilia looked like she had been dunked headfirst into the river.

“Perhaps,” Ludmila smiled at the memory of the rather colourful story. “I’m not sure just how much that Bard embellished his tale. But I can tell you that in a life and death struggle, having a fair fight is the last thing on most people’s minds.”

She reached into a pocket inside her kirtle, pulling out a ceramic jar that fit into the palm of her hand. Unscrewing the cap, she displayed the grey paste inside, which gave off a light, spicy odour.

“This is a type of poison,” she said and Aemilia, who had been inching her face closer to the jar, suddenly pulled back upon hearing her words. “The jar contains enough for around a hundred arrows. It’s potent enough to probably paralyze even an Adamantite-rank Adventurer, unless they have items or magic to counteract it. Demihuman tribes usually do not have such items, so they rely on their own casters in the event that they are poisoned. A single frontier patrol, however, can unleash so many of these arrows in a short span of time that even several such casters have no hope of keeping up.”

Ludmila put the jar away and continued speaking.

“We use poison and traps; misdirection and ambushes: there is no limit to unfair methods. If a Demihuman reaches our lines, a half dozen fighters with spears will work in concert to take it down. If it can be harmed, then we’ll devise the most efficient ways to kill it. The entire purpose of a frontier territory is to clearly define where the wilderness ends and where our lands begin. With our limited numbers we must do so in the most cost effective manner that can be achieved, or we’ll inevitably be overrun.”

Aemilia’s look of childlike wonder had been mostly wiped away, replaced by something between a worried and resolute face.

“But…what about all the stories about honour and chivalry?” She said tentatively, “The old tales of gallantry and heroism that are sung of the nobles and knights that defend the realm?”

“I’d say those are fanciful tales spun to entertain the masses,” Ludmila replied plainly. “A noble does not prioritize a warrior’s honour, and it has no place when measured against duty. A noble’s duty is defined by the contracts between liege and vassal. Duty is a noble’s honour; fealty and obligation determine what is chivalrous. No amount of personal pride as a warrior will excuse negligence and failure in one’s duties. You must keep this in mind at all times as well, Aemilia: you are part of House Zahradnik now. As a member of a noble retinue, you must understand the difference between fantasy and reality.”

“Yes, my lady,” Aemilia lowered her head. “I will not fail you.”

Aemilia offered no more questions after that, returning to her work. The change from her former expression had Ludmila worrying about whether she had squashed her expectations a bit too ruthlessly. She was always chided by her family for getting too wrapped up in what she was saying and being too blunt with her words; it seemed like she might never grow out of it.

Over the next hour, the captain successfully made the turns in the river without incident and the Undead crew had navigated through the most hazardous section along the middle reaches of the Katze River. With their course now heading south, the sails fully caught the north wind and their journey picked up speed. Before noon, they were entering the long gorge that would end at Warden’s Vale. Aemilia gaped as they passed between the towering granite walls, nearly bare of vegetation. There were no paths or even shores; the cliffs, which kept rising higher to either side as they sailed deeper into the foothills, dropped straight into the river – giving no purchase for travelers on land. Small streams would tumble down from the heights every few kilometres, creating breathtaking waterfalls which churned the waters below them.

Aemilia had renewed some of her previous excitement with the unfamiliar scenery, but Ludmila saw the familiar passage as an opportunity to relax. The gorge was actually the safest stretch of the river, so deep that it was mostly unassailable by threats from land. By late afternoon, they had entered the borders of the barony.

The clouds that had rolled down from E-Rantel had long since passed, leaving trailing wisps in the cerulean skies. To the south, the peaks of the border ranges beyond the valley could be seen through the crisp air, still crowned in white. Sunlight glistened off of the melt running down the cliffs of the eastern shore and the river swelled from the advent of spring. Ludmila spotted patches of snow in the shadows of the high valleys that spilled into the river, so it seemed like her thoughts from the past few days about the weather were correct.

Beside her, Aemilia pulled a handkerchief out of her pocket and wiped away her tears.

Ludmila felt a twinge of guilt. She had taken her maid, who had been raised in the thriving city of E-Rantel, to the furthest borders of the realm. There were no bustling markets or magical conveniences and land was raw and undeveloped. There weren’t even people here any more, aside from themselves. She raised a hand and placed her arm over her maid’s shoulder.

“Please don’t cry, Aemilia,” she said in a comforting tone. “Things will surely get better in time.”

Her maid stiffened at her words. She sniffed, wiped her eyes, then sniffed again. Then she let out a shuddering laugh.

“I don’t doubt that they will, my lady,” she smiled. “That is not the reason for my tears, however. You said your home was beautiful…but that was just a tiny bit of an understatement.”

Birthright: Act 3, Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Ludmila had always appreciated the natural beauty of her own home, but the sight did not affect her the same way as it did Aemilia. Born and raised in the barony, she was used to the vistas that it offered. The reason why Andrei Zahradnik had staked his claim here was said to be the natural wonder that it had evoked in him, so she supposed that any outsider might share those same feelings. Ludmila’s gaze scanned the familiar surroundings: rather than marveling over the scenery, she was searching for signs of damage or intrusion. The Adventurer, Nabe, had mentioned a few days ago that she had been sent to deal with some trouble in the region, so there had been a lingering worry in her mind all throughout her time in E-Rantel about the state of her demesne.

In the remaining hours that it took for them to come within sight of the village harbour, she had not seen any evidence pointing to the passage of anyone, never mind intruders. The geese still occupied the flooded marshes; there were no tracks on the narrow sandbar and the village – at least from a distance – seemed unchanged. She turned her attention to the ship’s progress as it approached within a few hundred metres of the pier, watching the Undead crew and occasionally issuing additional instructions when the captain seemed uncertain about what to do next. After they safely guided the vessel into the harbour and secured it to the pier, Ludmila lifted herself out of the ship and examined the hill.

It felt strange how unchanged her home appeared. Though her time away had been less than a week, it certainly seemed like it had been much longer so she was expecting at least something to have changed, if only a little bit of growth on the grass and various plants that covered the rocky knoll in small patches. Behind her, she saw that Aemilia had slipped into her pair of new boots, hitching up the long skirts of her uniform to avoid getting them stained by the muddy path leading up through the village. Behind the maid, several of the skeletons were lined up, carrying their luggage. Ludmila did not recall instructing them to do so.

“Did you instruct the skeletons to carry our luggage?” She asked Aemilia.

“Um…I suppose I did?” Her maid seemed surprised at herself as well, “Before I climbed out of the ship, I just asked them to without thinking about who I was asking. I don’t think I could have if I did.”

“The Undead are a part of our lives now,” Ludmila tried to encourage her Lady’s Maid, “so learning how to get along with them is a good thing. You’re a senior member of my household staff, so it will serve as an example to everyone else.”

Aemilia’s expression wavered between being pleased at her mistress’ affirmation of her position and being uncertain about her new relationship with the Undead. Ludmila led her odd entourage up the path towards the village entrance, through the winding route between the homes, and stopped in front of the entrance of the baronial manor. It felt absolutely tiny in comparison to the guest manor in E-Rantel – this was a feeling that she always seemed to have after returning from the city. As much as she loved her home, it always felt like the simple and rugged village was far inferior to the city, with its well-developed infrastructure and buildings that weren’t essentially small holes dug into the hillside. She did not want to know what sort of expression her maid had on her face as she opened the manor door.

The familiar smells of home wafted out to greet her even as she stepped across the threshold. The familiar smells of home wafting out to greet her also reminded her that she had left half a pot of stew in the fireplace at the beginning of the week. Quickly pulling off her boots, she rushed over to look into the cookpot: to her relief, the recent weather had left its contents nearly frozen. Glancing to the hall, she saw Aemilia off to the side, organizing the contents of their luggage with the skeleton crewmen. Ludmila snatched a brush off of the fireplace mantle, grabbed the iron pot and made a break for the door.

“Where are you going, my lady?”

Aemilia’s voice stopped her before she could even walk over to where she had left her boots. Ludmila still could not comprehend how her maid was so perceptive when it came to things like this.

“Just taking care of this so I can get dinner started,” she replied, not quite looking at her attendant.

“Oh, you should really leave these things for your servants to take care of,” Aemilia said with a smile. “There are many other responsibilities that you must attend to, my lady.”

Ludmila surrendered the pot and the brush, trying her best not to look like a child that had been caught in some sort of mischief. She spotted Jeeves’ box along the wall, so she picked it up and carried it outside with her. As she made her way back down to the warehouse, Nonna’s flying form crossed her line of sight. The Elder Lich had flown off before they arrived without any sort of explanation and now settled to the ground nearby as she reached the warehouse door.

“Where did you fly off to, Nonna?”

Ludmila spoke in a conversational tone while opening the lock holding the crossbar in place. She lifted the wooden beam and placed it to the side, opening the door which creaked slightly on its hinges.

“Orientation.”

Its voice was as expressionless as ever, but Ludmila thought that this particular Undead expressed an inquisitive nature with all of its independent movement and observation. Or it could have received instructions along those lines as a part of its assignment. With it coming and going as it pleased, she was never quite sure which it was. The more fanciful part of herself thought that if it was simply following its assignment as an attaché; it would have just followed her around everywhere without any deviation, so she liked to think that her initial reasoning had some basis to it.

“Did you see anything out of sorts?” She asked.

As the words left her mouth, Ludmila realized the Elder Lich wouldn’t know what ‘out of sorts’ was, being here for the first time.

“Did you see anyone other than our group while you were looking around?” She elaborated on her first question.

“No.”

Nonna stared back at her after the short reply. With little else to say, Ludmila turned back to the task at hand. Placing the glossy black box beside the small arrangement of leftover supplies in the corner near the entrance, she opened the lid and Jeeves rose out of it in much the same way he did when she had opened the seal to his container.

“Good day, madam!” He said in a cheery voice, “How may I be – oh, Lady Zahradnik?”

Jeeves stepped out of his box and turned to look around.

“Is this the work you spoke of?” He asked as his gaze continued to wander about the mostly empty warehouse, “Is this my inventory?”

“It’s the village warehouse, and you’ll be acting as its manager.” Ludmila said, “There’s also the warehouse in the hamlet out in the fields that will be a part of your responsibilities. Our inventories will fill and empty as seasons pass and shipments are sent in and out but, in the meanwhile, you’ll need to familiarize yourself with everything, as well as learn how to read and write.”

Ludmila turned to her attaché, who was silently observing them.

“While Jeeves is free from his duties,” Ludmila asked, “can you teach him, Nonna? He needs to be able to keep records for accounting and trade, as well as understand any materials provided by the civil office by the time we start sending goods to the capital.”

“It will be done.”

Once again, the Elder Lich gave an immediate affirmative to a task it was able to accomplish. Ludmila had grown up knowing the Undead as unfeeling, single-minded beings, but Nonna’s distinctly different responses which depended on whether it was capable of performing a task or not spoke to her of a stubborn sense of pride.

“The labourers should still take about half a day to arrive,” she had distributed the equipment purchased from Mesmit’s Forge that same evening and sent them out immediately, “so it’s going to be a busy day tomorrow. I’ll be retiring to the manor to rest and prepare, come and inform me should any problems arise.”

With that, Ludmila left the two Undead in the warehouse, walking through the village to inspect all the homes which had been shut away. With none of them occupied, the routine half felt like a needless exercise, but she did it anyways to organize her thoughts as she went around. The first thing she would need to get started on the next day was preparing the fields for planting. Though she was developing an appreciation for the tireless constitution of the Undead, her experience so far also left her dubious about whether they would know how to do the jobs that were tasked to them and whether she herself knew enough about each task if they did not.

The sight of Aemilia with the skeletal crewmen coming up the hill pulled her from her thoughts. She was carrying the cooking pot and brush, while the Skeletons following her were each carrying two full buckets of water. The maid had quickly become used to them; it seemed that she had enlisted the crewmembers to help out with her chores. Ludmila entered the manor ahead of them and headed to the living space at the end of the hall.

The fireplace was already lit, as were the two lamps which hung from the ceiling. Their luggage was sorted with clothing and equipment neatly arranged, and the day’s worth of leftover food that had been packed away for the journey upriver was being prepared on the counter nearby. Ludmila changed into the nightwear laid out on the largest bed for her as the sound of the Skeletons filling the barrels of water in the hall filled the house. Looking around for the administrative materials that she brought along from E-Rantel, she saw that they had been placed on the desk at the front of the hall. Her lady’s maid seemed a bit too attentive, leaving nothing for Ludmila to distract herself with – at least nothing that Aemilia considered beneath her mistress’ noble standing.

She seated herself at the desk and started leafing through the pile of materials, but she had gone over them so many times on the trip back that she had nearly memorized their contents. She propped her chin in her hand as she looked out the window, and the fingers of her free hand idly drummed on the wooden surface of the desk. As busy as it had been for the past week, she was now becoming restless with little to do. She turned her head away from the window to look towards the interior of the house where Aemilia had almost finished preparing the evening meal.

Seeing this, Ludmila rose from her desk and brought the stack of books and folios to the cabinet where the rest of the barony’s documents were stored. After locking everything away, she stepped over to seat herself at the dining table. The Skeletons appeared at the door again, entering to fill the last of the four barrels that stored water in the manor. With their task complete, they stood by in the hall, awaiting new instructions.

“You seem to have been able to put these fellows to work effectively,” Ludmila said idly in an attempt to stave off her boredom. “I didn’t see anything related from the civil office, but I can check to see if they can be hired out for something like this if you’d like them on a more permanent basis.”

“I don’t know how it came to this – I really don’t,” Aemilia placed the last dish on the dining table and stood by as she looked at her impromptu helpers. “Maybe a bit of you has rubbed off on me, my lady. You seem to direct everything so effortlessly. I wasn’t even thinking when I directed the Skeletons from the ship.”

“Well, not everything I say goes accordingly,” Ludmila responded dryly. “Besides, back at Corelyn Village, Nonna said that they would understand what we intend, as long as the instructions are straightforward. As I recall, Lady Shalltear said much the same yesterday.”

“Nonna, my lady?”

“I gave the Elder Lich a name yesterday evening; it didn’t seem to mind. Having all these nameless Undead running around everywhere is going to become confusing, so at least the ones we work closely with could do with a name.”

“...I see.” Aemilia mouthed the name a few times, “Anyways, I can see how the Skeletons will be a great help – especially when it’s just myself here – but they must come with a price of some sort. How much does it cost to…rent…the Undead?”

“Well, the cost for the Undead this season has been waived since we’re basically field testing them and acting as a sort of pilot for their adoption into the duchy’s industries. Normally, it’s a tenth of the production that they partake in. The regular rates have been structured in such a way that it’s actually more cost effective than the traditional shares that Human tenants keep from their work. At least in a direct comparison.”

“Isn’t that bad?” Aemilia frowned, “If the nobles replace all of their tenants with the Undead, how will the people survive without their livelihoods?”

“That’s a question I’m still trying to answer,” Ludmila looked at her meal and then looked back up to Aemilia. “You should sit down and have dinner as well, there is no servants’ hall in this manor; and it’s just us here anyways.”

“Thank you, my lady,” Aemilia sat down across from her after retrieving her meal.

“As I was saying,” Ludmila spoke while pushing her food around with her spoon, “you’re right about what you said, I think. While it’s true that the price of food and necessities will go down as a result of Undead labour, it also means that the labourers in basic industries that have been replaced are not earning any incomes whatsoever. The costs of all the unproductive tenants will need to be shouldered by the nobility...and I’m not sure how many nobles would be willing to sustain that arrangement for long. It’s not as simple as having your tenants work other jobs – almost everything that I could think of that the Undead are not suited to requires skilled labour, and apprenticeships take many years before one can qualify to become a journeyman.”

She looked over to where the four Skeleton crewmen were standing in the hall. The Undead showed no signs of impatience or restlessness as time had passed: they simply waited without noise or movement.

“Take your direction of these skeletons, for instance,” she continued, speaking her thoughts aloud as they came to her. “If a single maid can direct four Undead to function as junior staff performing basic duties – such as cleaning or hauling water and the like – then even a manor as large as the guest houses in E-Rantel might only need three or four household members to fulfil all those duties. Many vocations will be similarly impacted: Skeletons still need Farmers to direct them, so the question then becomes how many can each Farmer supervise properly? I’m not sure as to what the extent of their capabilities lie, however – I think that is something you should explore while you have the crew available at your disposal, and I will need to investigate the impact on every industry to come up with a real plan for developing the demesne.”

“If that is your wish, my lady,” Aemilia nodded. “Actually, I’m starting to become curious myself with how easy they’ve been to direct. In my time training as a maid, I know that different members of the staff do not always get along, and junior staff are not always cooperative or do not work out as you expect them to. The conditions of a junior maid are also not very good – the work is hard and the accommodations are often very poor, so having the Undead fill those types of jobs is not something that I actually mind. At the same time, however, it’s as you say: the more we employ the Undead, the more people will lack for work. It seems like a difficult problem…I do not envy you for having to solve it, my lady.”

Ludmila considered her maid’s words. In truth, it would not be as much a problem for her as it would be for the nobles with well-developed territories and large populations that needed to be reorganized with the changes. Local economies would be turned on their heads and they would be facing chaos as their tenants were simply outmatched by the Undead for the majority of their basic industries.

If, for example, a single farmer was capable of directing four Skeletons, and each skeleton matched the labour provided by a Human household, then three households would be put out of work. The higher the level of development in a demesne, the more pronounced this problem would become, as one could not simply cultivate more land when there was no more land to be had. The process of establishing new industries for all of the freed-up labour would be slow and cumbersome, though having the people become used to the Undead would probably be a slow process that would mitigate the problem somewhat.

For her undeveloped barony which had always struggled with manpower, however, the Undead were an unprecedented boon. Rather than creating an overwhelming surplus of Human labour as it would in the inner territories, the Undead created a shortage of Human labour in Warden’s Vale which should be easily filled due to the problems rising elsewhere. It was an edge she would need to exploit, reinvesting the surplus generated by the fief’s exports into developing industries that would retain their value against the turmoil in the markets that was sure to come.

Finishing the last of her meal, she rose from her seat and walked over to the hall.

“You two, head down and help guard the warehouse,” she pointed to the Skeletons closest to the door, then turned to the others. “You two stand guard outside the door to the manor. Luzi will come and pick you up for work tomorrow morning.”

The Skeletons quietly filed out of the manor, shutting the door behind them.

“Will there be anything else for tonight, my lady?” Aemilia asked from the counter where she was putting the used dishes aside to be washed.

“No, I’d like to get started early tomorrow,” Ludmila replied while letting her hair down. “Don’t let me sleep in – there will be a lot of work ahead.”

“Yes, my lady. Good night.”

Birthright: Act 3, Chapter 8

Chapter 8

As scheduled, the Undead labourers arrived during the night, and she saw them neatly formed up on the flats outside the entrance of the village when she peeked through the curtains of the hall window. Coming down after a quick breakfast, she spotted the figures of Nonna and Jeeves as well. The Undead had assumed much the same formation as they did when they presented themselves for inspection in E-Rantel, and it was because of this she immediately noticed that something was wrong.

“There’s one missing,” Ludmila noted as she double checked the formations arrayed before her, “what happened?”

“It lost its footing on its way down into the valley,” Nonna answered. “It did not survive. The equipment has been retrieved.”

Ludmila frowned at the unexpected news. The makeshift trail up the gulch that connected to the forest road in the south was usually only frequented by Rangers on patrol and not well maintained. It was something she should have warned them about, especially considering that she had just traveled through there a day previous to their dispatch.

“They await your orders,” the Elder Lich prompted.

Nonna did not even appear to show a sliver of sorrow for the missing Skeleton. It had even gone on to mention that its valuables had been recovered rather than dwell on the loss. Ludmila wasn’t sure what to think about its reaction. Did it simply consider it an expendable servitor not even worth such consideration, or would the Undead servants of the Sorcerous Kingdom treat all of the citizens this way? She wondered what would happen if a Human was injured or killed while working. Would these Undead simply continue about their tasks with little regard to the events around them? The idea that she somehow gave more thought to her missing labourer than one of its fellow Undead was not something that sat well with her, but there was currently nothing to be done about it.

“Let’s go, then,” Ludmila said.

Rather than taking the main road, which led around the base of the hill, she cut across the slope to save time. It was still early in the morning, with the sun not even shining on the upper slopes of the valley to the west yet, but the trek to the old hamlet that had been built to tend to the fields was over an hour away. Their route rejoined the main road where a fork split off to the west, leading up to the lower slopes of the valley. Near the foot of the slope, there was an old wooden bridge that stretched across the churning floodwaters flowing into the marshy flats to the north.

Everything about their journey traced through some of the older parts of the fief. The old wooden bridge led to the old road which passed through the old fields with its old hamlet before winding its way up to the top of the valley where the old suspension bridge had frayed and broken in generations past. It was the original way that people travelled to and from the territory, with the road leading south through the forest and into the neighboring barony. There was not much left of the road, though – the sparse traffic that it still saw from the villagers headed out to forage in the woods was not enough to keep it from fading away and becoming overgrown; eventually vanishing into the forests a couple of kilometres beyond the hamlet.

Ludmila tested the bridge as she crossed it, shifting her weight about to see if she could find any weak or rotted sections of planking. The poorly maintained infrastructure of the barony had already claimed one Undead labourer; the last thing she needed was one of the Death Knights carrying the heavy iron ploughs falling into the waters below. She stood to the side after crossing the bridge to watch while the column of Skeletons continued up the traces of the road.

The first Death Knight approached the far side of the bridge, carrying the plough which must have weighed half a tonne directly overhead. It stopped, seeming to sense her trepidation over its crossing and carried the farm equipment together with another Death Knight, distributing the weight between them. The ominous creaking of the bridge sent tingles of alarm over her but, in the end, the first plough, then the second made it across without incident.

Ludmila jogged back up to the head of the column and they continued up the gentle slope into the terraced farmlands, where the road turned to lead them northwest. As of the previous year, the barony only cultivated a small part of the total farmlands leading up to the old hamlet – producing grain which served to supplement the other sources of food hunted and foraged from the wild. The rest of the thousands of acres had lain fallow since before she was born, and where there were once neatly kept fields on the wide terraces along the lower slopes of the valley, now were wild meadows filled with bushes and tall grass. There were dozens of young groves of trees sprouting everywhere she looked, and the edges of the windbreaks that separated the fields into orderly sections were encroaching into the open spaces as well.

The small farming hamlet was in better condition than the overgrown fields, some of its buildings seeing seasonal use by the villagers during the farming seasons. Unlike the homes in the village, the ones in the hamlet were of a more regular style of construction one might see anywhere in the duchy: small cottages with timber frames and panels of wattle and daub which served as walls. A well had been dug and constructed out of stone in the centre of the village, as well as a large communal barn which was used to store equipment and seed. Releasing the lock and latch, she rolled open the barn doors and looked inside from the entrance.

Four wooden carts were parked before her in the central space of the barn. She instructed several nearby Undead to roll them out and moved in to inspect the interior. The walls were lined with wooden bins, which were filled with seed grain – oats and barley as far as was written in the village ledger. The upper floor of the barn stored various old farming tools as well as leftover sacks used to carry grain for transport. There was, thankfully, no sign of damage or vermin having made their way in over the winter.

She turned to the entrance, calling for Jeeves.

“Use this barn to organize and store the equipment,” she instructed him. “We’ll keep the carts outside while the fields are being worked – select four skeletons to help you out with everything. The fields nearest to the hamlet will be prepared first, so we can just use this building directly to exchange broken tools and transport seed from, but as we work our way further outwards, we’ll be using the carts to transport what is needed between locations.”

Jeeves bobbed his head in acknowledgement, and four Skeletons immediately joined him as he walked in, carrying his box. The entire column lined up to drop off the various tools they had been carrying into separate piles. Nonna watched all the activity quietly, writing in the book it carried on its person everywhere it went. Ludmila walked back out of the barn, leaving Jeeves to his work. On the road which led through the centre of the hamlet, the skeletons which had dropped off their equipment formed up again behind the Boar-type Undead Beasts and Bone Vultures, which had not carried anything from the city.

Seeing the sun beginning to peek above the eastern ridge, she motioned for the Undead – including the Death Knights carrying their ploughs – to follow her to the nearest field. She looked over the blanket of stubble left over from the harvest.

Green shoots of grass and clumps of weeds had already started to grow despite the cold weather. Ludmila directed the first plough to be set up: each was supposed to be operated by a pair of Death Knights, with one replacing the team of draft animals which normally pulled it and the other driving from behind. Since the crew for the Knarr which had been provided did not initially know how to sail the vessel, she had been wondering whether these Undead labourers would know what they were doing...apparently not.

She watched from the side as the pair of Death Knights tried to puzzle out the operation of the farm equipment. A short while later the other team had set down their own equipment and joined them. They did not audibly communicate with one another, but would often take turns gesturing to one another and performing actions in the air as they ‘discussed’ amongst themselves. It vaguely looked like a group of middle-aged men that had gathered around a problem, debating over how to address it. Ludmila only knew that it should have been hitched to whatever was pulling it, then the blades of the plough would cut furrows into the field and turn the soil.

After several vague suggestions from her and a series of actions that seemed far too complicated for simple farming equipment, the team looked ready to go. The two other Death Knights withdrew to stand beside her, watching with their arms crossed as the first team started to move experimentally. The blades of the gang plough bit deeply into the soil, turning it as the pair slowly drove in a straight line along the edge of the field. Seeing results from their effort, they started walking faster. The walk turned into a jog, then into a run until lines of sod were being thrown up into their wake. As they continued their blistering pace, loud clanking sounds could be heard all the way from where Ludmila was keeping pace alongside them from the road.

It wasn’t until a rock the size of her head flew up and landed with a thud near her feet that she realized what the noise was.

“Woah!” She shouted while waving her arms wildly, “Wait! Stop!”

It was too late. With an awful noise somewhere between a clang and a thunk, the plough finally hit something it couldn’t toss aside. The Death Knight driving the plough was lifted over a metre off the ground as it held onto the handlebars before the entire thing dropped back down again. The one pulling the chains hitched to the equipment ended up with its face in the dirt. Ludmila ran down to them as they recovered themselves. While the legendary Undead were unharmed, the same could not be said for the decidedly not-so-legendary farming equipment.

One of the chains used to pull the plough had snapped somewhere and, when they turned the equipment on its side so she could examine it, the full extent of the damage was revealed. The leading edge of the gang plough had been thoroughly mangled: the foreshare had broken off and the head of the mainshare bent at a right angle. The mouldboards were dented and scored from all the large rocks they turned aside at the high speed the Death Knights had been running at. The culprit that finally ended their run was a boulder that was buried just under the surface of the field. She could see the chip where the impact had occurred but, besides that, the boulder seemed smugly intact. She turned to one of the Death Knights.

“Head back and get replacement parts from Jeeves,” she ordered, “and get the other labourers out here while you’re there. Have the Skeletons bring their spears and a dozen shovels as well.”

Ludmila walked around until she found a stone that would fill the palm of her hand. Picking it up, she returned to the road and waited. When the Undead labourers had gathered, she held the stone out in front of her.

“Sweep this field,” she instructed. “Bring any stones you find of this size and larger to the side of the road. Any other debris as well. Use your spears to probe the ground in case there are boulders lurking under the soil and mark where they are. Those with shovels – dig up this boulder.”

The Skeletons formed two wide lines, one following the other as they slowly picked their way across a stretch of the field while the Undead Boars rooted ahead of the Skeletons, overturning suspicious sections of soil that they came across. The rocks uncovered by the Undead were left exposed on the ground, where a Bone Vulture would fly down and snatch it up to be delivered to the nearby roadside. The labourers equipped with shovels were busily digging around the boulder while the Death Knights were once again standing around the gang plough puzzling out how to replace the broken pieces. The base of the foreshare was easily detached, but they had to unbend the ploughshare to work it off the mouldboard. One turned around with each of the pieces in one hand, holding them up as if asking Ludmila what to do with them.

“Pass them to a Bone Vulture,” she said.

Ludmila waved one of the flying Undead down to pick up the damaged pieces of equipment. She walked over to pick up the broken-off part of the foreshare which had been set aside near where the Skeletons were trying to dig up the boulder and tossed it over to the Bone Vulture waiting nearby.

“Take those pieces to Jeeves – maybe he can repair them somehow.”

With two pieces of the broken blade each talon and one in its beak, the Bone Vulture flew off in the direction of the barn. Though Ludmila was somewhat doubtful over her own statement – Jeeves had needed tools to mend the torn cloth and the hamlet did not have a smithy – it was at least worth trying. Turning back to the work on the boulder, she saw that the Skeletons had dug a half-metre deep trench around it but, as they went deeper, it only seemed to grow wider.

About a metre down and ten minutes later, a clunking sound could be heard coming out of the hole as a few of the Skeletons were met with rocky resistance. She instructed the Skeletons to give the rock an experimental push from one side and it appeared to be solidly attached to the stone below – apparently what she had thought was a boulder was actually a protrusion of bedrock. Ludmila put her hands on her hips and let out a sigh, wondering what to do.

She turned to the sound of the Death Knights approaching; it seemed that between them they had finished replacing the broken parts of the plough and the first team was ready to go again. Looking at the others walking up to see what was going on with the boulder, a reckless thought came to her mind. Motioning for the Skeletons to leave the trench, she addressed the group of Death Knights.

“Are you able to break off the top of that boulder and carry it over to the road?”

It sounded ridiculous even as she said it and stepped out of the way, but the Death Knights did not hesitate at all.

The first Death Knight stepped forward and drove the sole of a dark sabaton into the side of the offending boulder. The first strike had no discernible effect, but that was no deterrent. It kicked again and again, with chips of stone coming off the surface until finally a long crack appeared. Several more kicks were delivered for good measure, then the Death Knights dropped into the trench to detach it from the base to carry it off the field. It had split off diagonally, so Ludmila ordered the jagged end to be broken off and carried away as well. The two broken stones together must have weighed as much as the plough if not more. Filling the hole took several rounds of delivering soil, packing the dirt and adding more soil before it seemed solid enough to stay roughly level with the rest of the field.

Nearly an hour had passed since the incident, and Ludmila felt that her initial expectations of how well the planting season would go were already off the mark. Looking down the field in the direction of the skeletal labourers, she spotted where several shields had been propped up on the soil to mark where their probing had apparently struck more stones underground. Dividing the shovel-wielding Skeletons into two teams, she had a pair of Death Knights per team follow them out to repeat the process of removing whatever obstacles lay beneath the soil, leaving the ploughs where they were until all the hazards were cleared from the field.

“We’ve just started and there are already major delays,” Ludmila sighed.

She scanned the field one last time.

“Let’s get back to the hamlet,” she said to the remaining Death Knight.

Birthright: Act 3, Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Ludmila found Jeeves at the door to the barn, sitting on his shiny black box. He raised his head at her approach, and rose to greet her with a cheery voice.

“Ah, Lady Zahradnik!” He said, “Welcome back.”

“How have you been faring here?” She asked, “Have you encountered any difficulties?”

“There have been none,” the skeleton replied happily. “The inventories have also been compiled, though I’ve only had one come in to replace some broken plough parts and a chain...”

“The workers are clearing the field of hazards right now, so I don’t think they’ll be needing replacement equipment for the next little while,” she explained. “What about the broken parts? Do you think you can repair them?”

“I cannot say for certain,” Jeeves replied. “I’ve a vague sense that I can but, much like the repairs from earlier, I believe I need the appropriate tools and facilities.”

Ludmila grimaced. A smithy for the village had always been something that they had always desired, but could never afford to build. It was one of the things she wanted to look into immediately after getting her labourers working, but they probably wouldn’t see one constructed for a few seasons yet – at least until the demands of the population grew large enough to attract a blacksmith to Warden’s Vale.

“That’s probably not something we’ll have available for some time. I suppose that I’ll need to make another trip to the city to pick up more parts and some equipment that has been overlooked.” She looked around, “Where’s Nonna?”

“Flown off to inspect the work in the fields,” Jeeves pointed out in the direction where they had come from. “It seems that she has quite a number of tasks to fulfill for the central administration.”

“She?”

“Well I suppose it doesn’t really matter, but she does give off that impression.”

Ludmila had no idea what he was talking about. Aside from the voice that sounded somewhat like an elderly woman and the name she had given to her, nothing really gave off the impression that the Elder Lich was ‘female’. Perhaps Nonna sounded different to the Undead in the strange way that they communicated between themselves.

“I see,” she guessed it really didn’t matter for the moment. “Did she say what kind of tasks she had?”

“Hmm...as far as she’s shared with me, mostly things to do with your work out here – confirming that what is on paper works in practice. There have been a handful of disappointments and surprises so far.”

“Oh? Like what?”

Ludmila spoke while she retrieved a satchel from inside the barn which contained her lunch, then returned to lean against the barn wall beside Jeeves.

“The expectations for farming in particular have not held very well,” Jeeves turned to continue speaking with her. “There seems to be a lot more work involved than the information that was initially collected had suggested. The fault does not lie with you, of course. Nonna said something about the information coming from a source that was restricted to controlled environments and therefore not exposed to real conditions. There was another place – Carne? – where similarly problematic data was being collected, so what you’re doing here seems to verify the errors. Nonna seemed quite excited about the report she was compiling, which contains amendments and improvements: her unique contributions to the administration’s knowledge in this field.”

Was Nonna really that talkative? Ludmila could barely get a sentence out of her at a time, never mind this flowing rapport that the Elder Lich seemed to have with her newborn warehouse manager.

“Then there’s also the matter of your maid…”

“Luzi? Is something the matter with her?”

“Ah, my apologies – I meant nothing of the sort,” Jeeves said. “It’s more that her skilled direction of the Skeletons that were assigned to her has made Nonna consider avenues of employment for the Undead that were previously not considered due to their general reception amongst the populace so far.”

She recalled the discussion she had with Aemilia over dinner the previous evening. While the potential of the Undead was undeniable, there was also the idea that many would be robbed of their livelihood as a result. No matter how cheap goods became due to the cost of Undead labour, those not earning a wage at all would still be unable to afford to survive. Seeing how the more intelligent Undead were able to eventually figure out their tasks out on the field and coordinate with one another with the very rudimentary knowledge that accompanied her instructions, she imagined that Aemilia – who had collected the skeleton crew again in the morning – would have little difficulty assessing the extent of their capabilities as she went about the village cleaning up the homes and yards.

“Well, I wouldn’t get ahead of myself on that part just yet,” Ludmila said as she put away her pack after finishing lunch. “The people still need to earn enough to feed themselves. Implementing those notions immediately might result in a lot of unemployed citizens.”

She had given it more thought before she fell asleep the previous evening and continued to do so as the labourers worked in the fields. The standard arrangement between a lord and their farmer tenants in the duchy was divided into shares of the crops that they raised. A more prosperous territory with diverse industry and fertile lands might only have their lord requiring 60 percent of the harvest to maintain security, infrastructure and make investments towards development. A poor territory – or one that was administered by a more severe lord – might retain 80 percent of the harvest as it was their only source of revenue.

The majority of the food in Warden’s Vale was actually foraged, fished and hunted in its bountiful surroundings, so the territory under her father had kept the lord’s share at 70 percent – which mostly went towards replacement goods and equipment – and the villagers would barter amongst themselves to balance their needs. Even when the season was not so plentiful, there was never a problem with food due to the natural abundance of the large territory compared to its tiny population.

She supposed that, if one Skeleton was equivalent to the labour of an entire farming household and each farmer was allowed to manage four skeletons, taxes would need to change. With the projections in the almanac in mind, a single farmer would still retain twice as much as an entire farming household earned, even after taxes were raised to 90 percent. Contrary to the idea that a lord might incentivize migration by offering lower taxes for a few seasons, households with multiple adults capable of directing four Skeletons each would already temporarily become the wealthiest labourers in the history of the region – at least until prices of Undead-produced goods brought down the prices of their associated commodities in the region.

Ludmila was not sure how quickly this would happen, but she understood that lowering the tax rate would have every household trying to dump their excess at the same time, throwing the markets into chaos. Keeping this sort of panic-driven behaviour at bay seemed to be a prudent measure for all parties involved until regional logistics could match production and send the duchy’s goods out beyond the borders of the Sorcerous Kingdom where they could be absorbed by a far larger market. Rather than attracting tenants with a period of low taxes, she would instead turn the high initial tax revenues towards development: offering a higher quality of life in the demesne while commodity prices still remained high. This, in turn, would make her territory more attractive to valuable migrants possessing skills for the advanced industries that she desired…or so she hoped.

Adjusting the taxes to ensure that her tenants could afford an acceptable standard of living as the prices they could command for their crops slowly fell would be something she needed to keep a close eye on in the years to come. At least, in the worst case scenario, her people would never come close to starvation and she could rely on the liquidation rates offered by the central administration for lesser revenues.

On the other hand, her thoughts might be overly biased due to the current tenant-less nature of her fief. The well-developed territories straddling the main highways had their industries balanced around the existing labour of their tenants and there was not enough available land to broadly employ such measures that could be undertaken in Warden’s Vale. Even with the loss of the majority of the Royal Army, it was still only around two percent of the total population of Re-Estize and the levy for each fief was proportionately small compared to their populations. Even if the claims were accurate and half of the duchy’s subjects had fled, there would still be a massive surplus of labour if the Undead were adopted in their entirety.

Barring abandoning their subjects wholesale in a desire to maximize their own gains, the rest of the nobility would have to encourage other industries to take root in order to repurpose their excess labour: a process that might take several generations. Due to her unasked-for circumstances, Ludmila had the dubious luxury of building up Warden’s Vale from scratch using the new systems without needing to undergo such a balancing act.

It was a race to attract as many skilled labourers as possible to help develop an advanced workforce and new industries, and she had at least one advantage that was impossible for the others to gain. Unfortunately, the undeveloped state of her demesne also meant she was fighting an uphill battle to attract what she desired versus the wealthy fiefs of the interior. How she could compete with E-Rantel to draw immigrants to the frontier was beyond just making the place look nice.

Ludmila continued to mull over the development of her own territory as she walked back out to the fields. Luring out people like Germaine Lenez was a priority, but she wasn’t sure how she would receive her offer, or what she could even offer in the first place aside from the natural bounty of the land. She was savvy enough at her craft that she personally owned her own workshop at a young age and enticing her away from her market seemed difficult, to say the least. With talent came demand, and it wasn’t hard to imagine that anyone in her situation would be receiving offers from every noble in the duchy.

The most pressing, however, was her need for a blacksmith. As her labour force grew with the expansion of the farmlands, so would the demand for the production and maintenance of equipment. Building a mill on the river was also high on her list: grains could be ground into flour, and timber processed into lumber for the barony while making it easier to ship to the city. She had a few other ideas, but just building a smith and getting it started up would probably consume most of her funds so she would need to see what the incomes of the fief were like in practice before becoming too ambitious.

She was so deep in thought that she almost stumbled on a pile of stones laid on the path. Ludmila looked down balefully at the knee-high stack of rocks and, as she raised her head, she saw that the ‘stack’ was actually part of a long row that stretched all the way to the windbreak of the field that was being worked on, forming a stark line that followed the grassy trail for roughly two kilometres.

Is this a farm, or a quarry?

Ludmila marveled at the sheer volume of stones that had been delivered; out in the field, the group clearing the debris seemed to only be partway done, Bone Vultures continuously flying back and forth between the field and the road to add to the steadily growing pile. At least she would have some materials to help pave the roads with, whenever she got around to finding a ‘technical advisor.’ Stepping to the side, she continued down the grassy trail, watching the Undead continue to work in the field. Halfway to the end of the line of stones, Nonna descended from the sky and settled down in front of her.

“I have a proposal,” the Elder Lich spoke immediately upon landing.

“Go on…”

It was rare that Nonna actually initiated a conversation – had she ever, actually? – so Ludmila was curious what would prompt her to do so.

“Progress with the field work is much slower than anticipated in the materials provided by the administration due to unforeseen tasks. Reinforcements are suggested to improve the timelines for our processes.”

“I agree that it’s already going much slower than expected,” Ludmila replied, “but will the administration authorize so many labourers?”

“Priority has been placed on the reestablishment of supply lines in the Duchy of Re-Estize,” Nonna told her. “The vast majority of the assets made available for this objective have not yet been deployed due to the lack of activity from the other Human administrators. As such, utilizing them should not place any strain on the Sorcerous Kingdom’s available Undead labour pools.”

“How many did you want to bring in, exactly?” Ludmila asked.

“At least three other groups of labourers identical to the currently employed forces.”

“If the Theocracy sees this, they’re going to think we’re preparing for an invasion.”

A part of her laughed at the thought, but being struck preemptively by the Theocracy would normally mean the one-sided obliteration of her tiny fief; it was the first line of defence for the duchy against an advance through the Upper Reaches.

“Nonsense,” Nonna’s tone was dismissive. “His Majesty’s servants are under strict orders to not engage in such actions.”

“We may know this,” Ludmila said while looking over to the peaks in the south, “but they probably don’t. Did His Majesty inform the Theocracy of his benign policies?”

“Not as such, no,” the Elder Lich admitted. “However, after the declaration of war was delivered against Re-Estize, the Slane Theocracy maintained that they would not challenge His Majesty on the claim to E-Rantel.”

Ludmila raised her eyebrows and turned her head back to face the Elder Lich.

“Truly? The most powerful nation in the region voiced no opposition at all to the conquest?”

Bohdan had probably received a shock when he petitioned the Theocracy for assistance, then. Ludmila wondered if she would ever see her people again. Nonna only shook her head in response.

“In that case…” Ludmila pondered as she tapped her chin lightly, “the only traces of the Theocracy might be the eyes that probably everyone has sent to stay informed about what goes on in E-Rantel and along their borders. If they’ve assumed a neutral posture, they’d only move to attack if the Undead were marched across the wilderness that divides our borders from theirs.”

“Then you will issue the request?” Nonna asked.

“I would more than welcome the help,” Ludmila replied, “but what about the equipment? I don’t plan on maintaining such a large labour force until more of the lands are developed. The cost would be a burden on the fief’s budget.”

“It should not be unreasonable to request reimbursement, as long as the remaining equipment is returned with the labourers. You should make this detail clear with the civil office, however.”

“I’m going? I thought you wanted to make this quick by flying there yourself or something.”

“I will send word with my familiar to arrange transport for you to travel directly to E-Rantel.”

Come to think of it, Ludmila had not seen the little Devil since before they had left the city. The idea that a magic user could leave their companion somewhere to communicate over long distances like that was something she would have never conceived of herself. She stored away this useful piece of information in the corner of her mind.

“Very well, I’ll make the request – but not until today’s work is done,” she told Nonna. “The field should be cleared to plough in a few hours, so I can get the freed labourers to continue with the rest before I make preparations to leave.”

“Understood.”

They continued walking until they reached the windbreak that divided the first field from the next. Ludmila found a place to sit in the shade, watching the Undead continue their work. Their tireless movements made her wonder once again about the future of common labourers in the duchy.

“These Undead took very little instruction to perform these tasks,” she began as she posed a question to Nonna. “Is it possible for them to teach others? Maybe we could simply rotate groups of Undead in and familiarize thousands of them for various types of work by the time we’re done here.”

As the Elder Lich did not immediately reply, she focused her attention on one of the Death Knight teams, who was carrying another huge boulder to the roadside. This one seemed to not have been a part of the bedrock.

“While it is possible with the Death Knights,” Nonna finally said, “these Skeleton Warriors are similar to the ones crewing your vessel: they cannot teach – nor can they learn. Only Undead with their own intellect are capable of this.”

“I only gave them vague instructions though? I thought they did all that on their own.”

“This is provably false,” Nonna shook her head. “Regular Humans, such as your maid, can at most control a handful of Undead with specific instructions and direct supervision. There are over 150 Undead currently under your command who have only been given broad instructions and are not being directly supervised. Despite this, they carry on their tasks with an unexpected degree of fine control. It is…problematic.”

“…am I doing something strange?” Ludmila sat up at her words, “Should I stop?”

“No,” Nonna replied. “It is problematic in the sense that it stands as an anomaly to our current understanding of the world. My opening hypothesis is that it has something to do with your capability as a commander, as you have already demonstrated other abilities which are attributed to them. This would explain the enhanced performance of your labourers, as commander classes may subtly enhance the properties and actions of their beneficiaries. However, this same hypothesis challenges the rule that command abilities should not affect the summons of others.”

The unexpected piece of information relating to her own abilities gave Ludmila pause. With how casually Nonna had shared her ideas with her, she wondered if ‘classes’ and their qualities were simply common knowledge in the Sorcerous Kingdom that was taken for granted. The Sorcerer King’s servants seemed to possess a vast knowledge of these topics – perhaps it went hand in hand with their stupendous power.

“Lady Shalltear mentioned something about not having clear information about Human classes,” Ludmila said. “How well do the Undead labourers work when someone like a regular farm tenant is directing them?”

“Much the same as your maid, I suspect…though as she is under your direct command, your abilities may be in turn affecting her own competency as she carries out her duties in your service.”

Did that mean Aemilia’s mysterious sharpness when it came to her duties was Ludmila’s own fault? Thinking about all of the times she would catch and interrupt her when she was doing something that her maid thought was inappropriate…the idea that her maid’s ability to harry her mistress was being enhanced by her mistress’ own abilities felt very much like Ludmila was measuring out rope to hang herself with.

“An individual that is familiar with their own vocation should be able to convey those ideas to the labourers that they command,” Nonna continued. “A Farmer will be able to precisely direct the actions that they want their labourers to perform as long as they are straightforward. This does require testing, however.”

“I see,” Ludmila said. “Wait – what if I’m not able to command all these new skeletons that I’m bringing in? Surely this ability has limits…”

“You may consider that a test as well,” Nonna told her. “In the worst case scenario, they will carry out your most recent instructions in a basic manner until they have completed them. In any case, your own people should understand their own abilities…there is no documentation regarding yours?”

“There might be something recorded somewhere, but I’ve not personally seen anything of the sort. All of the bits and pieces that I know of come from the recounting of past events by the people around me, and from legends handed down through the generations by oral traditions and entertainment.”

“How foolish,” Nonna scoffed. “I propose that you remedy this ignorance to optimize the performance of yourself and your people.”

Ludmila wasn’t sure if she was being offered friendly advice or if she was being derided – perhaps it was both.

Birthright: Act 3, Chapter 10

Chapter 10

By late afternoon, the Undead labourers began to filter in to form up before her. As they neatly ordered themselves Ludmila rose from her grassy seat, brushing off her dress and scanning the field. It did not look very different from how it was before, save for a few large holes where boulders had been pulled out and the space filled in. She wondered how much debris she would end up with by the time all of the terraces were cleared.

“The plough teams can get started now,” she looked towards the two pairs of Death Knights. “Don’t go so fast that you’re throwing dirt everywhere – the equipment we have is nowhere near as sturdy as you are.”

She pointed to the incomplete formation of Skeletal labourers.

“Your group can follow after the plough teams: clear any additional debris that turns up.” She pointed to a set of Bone Vultures, “You, you, you and you, help deliver what they gather to the road with the rest of it. Everyone else, head across this windbreak and start clearing the next field.”

Though the old terraces were nowhere near as bad as the partially reforested territories that Ludmila had traveled through with Darkness, there was still much work to be done. The wild grasses that covered the fallow fields stood above her waist, while the bushes and groves of young trees dotting the landscape would prove to be time-consuming obstacles to clear away. At least what they did clear would yield fuel and materials that would come in handy for whenever she could find people to use them. The 80 skeletons that had followed her to the next field was the original number ordered for her 4000 acres of farmland, but the Bone Vultures and Undead Boars – which she had intended for a different set of tasks entirely – also proved to be helpful for clearing the land.

The Bone Vultures, especially, had shown extraordinary utility. Her original purpose was to use their ability to fly as an advantage when foraging in the marshes, but she did not consider applying them to places where it was easy to navigate over land until she set them to assist with clearing the fields. After their priorities with the fields were dealt with, she would put several other new ideas to the test.

“Bone Vultures, retrieve tools from Jeeves in the hamlet,” Ludmila projected her instructions over the Undead in the field with her ability. “We’ll need 30 sickles, 10 shovels, 10 axes and 10 picks. Skeletons can take one tool as they are delivered and work on your respective tasks.”

Much like the other field, all of the debris was to be set aside along the road; including the trees and shrubs that were chopped down and uprooted. The remaining Death Knight would help haul away what the Bone Vultures could not. She assumed that, like the previous field, this one was full of rocks as well so she tasked them with sweeping the field of stones after clearing away all of the growth.

“Issuing wide area commands does not tire you?” Nonna asked from beside her.

“If you mean the instructions that I just issued over the field,” Ludmila replied, “it doesn't feel any more strenuous than speaking loudly enough to be heard. I want to keep an eye on them for a bit to see if everything works out, though…there were multiple activities I had to convey to them that were associated with each tool and task. What are you trying to figure out?”

“Known active command skills consume mana, or require time to reuse,” the Elder Lich opened its tome and flipped through the pages. “Since we have the time, I would like to measure this ability.”

“Alright…what would you like me to do?”

Nonna pointed to the road beside them.

“Head away along the road,” she said, “and periodically use this ability to speak to me. Note any mana usage or similar resource consumption at each point.”

“…what does ‘mana usage’ feel like?”

“To Humans,” Nonna said, “it is reported to be a distinctly recognizable feeling. If they run low on mana, they will experience symptoms which mirror physical exhaustion. Overexertion may result in incapacitation along the same lines.”

“You want me to exhaust myself?”

“Simply being able to discern consumption of resources is sufficient. Its relation to your other command abilities is unknown; completely draining yourself may lead to inefficiencies amongst the labourers in the fields.”

Ludmila walked back out to the road and strode 300 paces east. She turned to face Nonna.

“Raise your hand if you can hear me.”

She spoke at a regular volume that she figured would not be heard by a regular person at their distance over the wind. Nonna raised her hand. Ludmila did not feel much different than before she had used her ability. She turned to walk 200 paces further and turned around again.

“Raise your hand if you can hear me,” she projected her words out to the Elder Lich.

Nonna raised her hand. Ludmila called out again, recalling something about abilities requiring time to reuse, but Nonna once again raised her hand in response before looking down to take down notes. She made her way halfway to the next windbreak, putting herself a kilometre away from where she had started.

“Do a backflip,” she said.

Nonna raised her hand.

Ludmila stalked off all the way to the windbreak at the other end of the field. At this distance, she was barely able to make out Nonna on the opposite end. It seemed silly to actually say anything with no hope of being heard, so she simply mouthed the words.

『 Wave at me if you can hear this.』

There was something this time. As she watched Nonna wave on the far side of the field, Ludmila felt an inkling of fatigue in her mind. Was it because she did not voice her words? She should have tried it normally first.

“Wave at me again.”

Nonna waved, and Ludmila felt an identical drain on her state of mind. Her breathing hadn’t changed, nor did her body feel fatigued...perhaps she had not used it enough to manifest the effects that the Elder Lich described. She walked back to rejoin Nonna at the windbreak.

“I felt a bit of a mental drain at the furthest point,” Ludmila reported, and Nonna’s pen scratched away as she took notes. “It was gone before I even made it a quarter of the way back, though.”

The pen stopped, and Nonna looked back up at her. Twin points of crimson light seemed to peer at her suspiciously.

“That should not be the case,” the Elder Lich said. “Are you certain of this?”

“Yes, it was like taking a stretch after working at my desk for hours. I was completely fine after that.”

The pen resumed its scrawling.

“Then there is something else at work,” Nonna said. “Mana does not recover as quickly as you described. The performance of the labourers showed no apparent change at the point you noted the difference in your mental state, either...do you have any other abilities?”

“There’s the one that I demonstrated before we met,” Ludmila replied. “I used it to rouse Luzi after she fainted in the civil office.”

“Did it produce similar effects on your mental state?”

“I don’t think so...but I was also too engrossed in learning how at the time, so I might not have noticed.”

Nonna continued writing until she snapped her tome shut after several minutes.

“This requires more data and further study,” she turned to stare at Ludmila.

“When I have the time,” Ludmila told Nonna, "I’ll try to accommodate whatever you come up with. Let’s head back to the hamlet for now.”

After watching the progress in the field, Ludmila decided that there were no problems with the instructions that she had issued to the labourers. Their orders would last well into the night by her estimation, so she returned to the barn with Nonna to retrieve her pack.

“Fly back ahead to the village with Jeeves,” she instructed her attaché. “Prepare a copy of the fief’s inventories so I can review them and see if there are any other things that I need to pick up from the city – make sure you inform Luzi about the change in schedule as well.”

Jeeves hopped back into his box, closing the lid, and Nonna picked it up and flew off towards the village. Ludmila made one last inspection of the empty settlement before calling down four Bone Vultures circling over the field; tasking them to guard the barn against opportunistic animals before she started the trek back to the village.

The evening shadows stretched across the valley by the time she made her way back across the old wooden bridge. Ludmila’s steps slowed as she reached the intersection coming off of the bridge – something was not quite right. Amongst the tall reeds and grasses that lined the flowing waters coursing around the base of the hill, she spotted a meandering trail of disturbed rushes: as if something had made their way through them.

Ludmila’s hand went to the dagger at her waist as she cautiously circled around to inspect the shore from the road above. The trail of slightly bent and displaced vegetation disappeared into the tall growths of marsh plants that ran under the bridge. Deciding it was too dangerous to investigate any further alone, she backed away from the edge of the road, turning back around to cut across the hillside to the village entrance.

The only sense that anyone was following her came a split second before a wiry arm wrapped around her abdomen and a calloused hand covered her mouth. Even as Ludmila reached up to pull the hand away, she was roughly yanked backwards down the slope. Despite her continuous struggling, whoever was pulling her away steadily continued to do so as she fruitlessly twisted about. She decided that escaping the hold was futile, and her hand went down to the dagger at her waist…but it wasn’t there. She started to kick back at her assailant’s legs in an effort to trip them up and loosen the hold. After several attempts, her feet finally caught something, yet he did not stumble. She tried one more time before her attacker finally spoke.

“Gods damn it girl,” a man’s voice came out in a harsh whisper. “I am not your enemy!”

Ludmila struggled for a few moments more until his words finally sunk in. His hand still sealed her mouth and the viselike hold was still restraining her movement, so all she could do was calm down to try to understand what was going on.

“Are you one of the villagers, girl?” He asked.

Ludmila tried to answer, but could only nod with his hand in the way. He felt her movement and continued speaking without releasing his hold.

“Then you are lucky I caught you before you got home. The Undead, they have taken this village.”

Ludmila froze, standing in shocked incredulity at his words.

“It is alright,” he breathed the words out near her ear, “I do not think they noticed you coming down from the fields. I was watching from up on the far slope, above the southern trail, when I saw you coming down to cross the bridge. I came down to stop you from walking into that deathtrap. The village is unnaturally quiet and there is a woman in black and white robes going from home to home with Undead servants. She is probably a Necromancer – there is a boat in the harbor with Undead in it as well, so she must be a minion of this Sorcerer King from the north. The village probably got knocked out with sleep spells and now she is going from door to door to – sorry, I will spare you the details.”

Ludmila had little room to imagine any details; Aemilia had gathered the skeletons that morning to help her clean the homes in the village. This would-be hero had probably arrived some time after she had departed with the labourers, given his grim tale.

“So…do you understand that, by making too much noise, you will bring the Undead up in the village down on our heads?”

Ludmila nodded again, and he slowly let her go.

She turned and backed away. The man had an unwashed smell, like he had traveled for days without a way to clean himself. The odor mingled with the green and earthy scents of the forest trails and clung to his plain dark traveller’s garb. Seeing that she wasn’t about to draw attention to them, he gave her a quick once-over and nodded.

“Sorry about the rough treatment, girl. We need to get you out of here – is there anyone else out in the fields still coming this way?”

“No,” Ludmila shook her head. “There are only Undead in the fields.”

“You are the only one left? Damn,” the man shook his head. “You must escape south down the river trail; there is only death in the north. I cannot come with you, but if you are lucky, you will reach the border of the Theocracy safely. They will take care of you there.”

He presented her steel dagger, holding it out by its long blade so she could grasp it by the hilt.

“Who are you?” Ludmila asked as she received her weapon, placing it back in its leather sheath at her waist.

“Me?” The man said as he motioned with his hand, “No one important. I just came in from the south.”

As the man’s hand continued to move, Ludmila caught sight of a ghostly green tattoo on his skin that was nearly hidden under a metal bracer. It was a unique symbol of the Six Great Gods she had been instructed to burn into her memory years ago. She then understood that the man was making a sign with his hand, and the tattoo was probably magically concealed: proof of his identity to the right people should he need it.

“A Scripture,” she said absently.

“What?” At Ludmila’s words, the man peered at her suspiciously, “How do you know this, girl? Only the family of the lord and the priest here should know that. Wait – I heard the old priest picked up an Acolyte, are you her?”

Warden’s Vale had a generally amicable relationship with the Theocracy, as a fief whose only practiced faith was that of the Six Great Gods. House Zahradnik similarly had a long relationship with the elite forces of their neighbor to the south, who occasionally assisted in controlling major Demihuman threats that drew too close to the Human realms. It had been a more frequent occurrence in generations long past – they rarely showed themselves in recent times. There were rumors of a war in the south that was occupying the Theocracy, which might have been why they had withdrawn their assistance along the southern border of Re-Estize. Regardless of the reason, it was one of the nails in the proverbial coffin that had collapsed the realms of the other Frontier Nobles.

As a child, Ludmila was instructed to cooperate with the Scriptures, as they looked out for Human interests and defended against the most dire of threats that faced them. The last time she saw them was when a party of men and women from the Theocracy was quietly allowed passage through the barony late last spring with this understanding, and a more whimsical part of herself fancied that they were heroes on some great quest on behalf of humanity.

The sound of light footsteps brushing through the grass on the hillside interrupted their conversation.

“Ah, there you are,” Jeeves walked towards them with a few sheets of paper in his hand. “I–”

The man looked away from her towards the sound of the approaching Skeleton. He reacted instantly, pulling a set of bolas from his belt and launched them in a quick and powerful motion towards his Undead target coming down the hill. The weapon caught itself on the Jeeves’ neck, winding around it until the weights on the end converged and shattered his skull. Jeeves tumbled into a heap of his remaining form, disintegrating into motes of light that scattered into the wind. The sheets of paper fluttered down onto the grass.

Ludmila quickly went over to where Jeeves had fallen – the only evidence that he once stood there was the imprint of his feet in the soil. She knelt to pick the papers up off of the grass: it was the inventory that she had instructed him to scribe for her back at the hamlet. Slowly rising, she looked to the sky, standing in place.

“What are you waiting for, girl?” The man called to her in a low voice, “They know we’re here, we need to leave now!”

She continued looking up into the sky, until she spotted what she was waiting for.

“Nonna.” She commanded; projecting her thoughts to the Elder Lich.

“「Hold Species」.”

Nonna’s invisibility fell as her spell was unleashed on the man waiting for Ludmila below. Without a chance to react he simply stood paralyzed, still beckoning for her. Ludmila turned around to glare at him angrily.

“How long does that last?” Ludmila asked the Elder Lich as she settled to the ground beside her.

“It is temporary,” Nonna answered. “Shall I incapacitate him?”

“Do it,” Ludmila said. “I still want some answers out of him, though, so leave him in a condition where he can still speak.”

Nonna examined the still-paralyzed man for a few seconds before casting her next spell.

“「Maximize Magic – Ray of Enfeeblement」.”

A coruscating ray shot out from the Elder Lich’s hand and struck the frozen figure. Ludmila could see no visible difference in his appearance.

“「Bestow Curse」.”

“「Exhaustion」.”

Nonna continued layering spells on her target. As alarming as they sounded, the man did not seem to suffer any visible injuries. Ludmila stepped forward to strip him of his armament. She found a mace and dagger on his belt along with several pouches lined with unmarked vials, in addition to a few other items whose use was unknown to her. She unstrapped a crossbow from under his cloak and took the quiver of bolts from his hip. There was a knife sticking out of his boot and she found several darts strapped to the undersides of his bracers.

The man’s paralysis wore off part way through being disarmed and Ludmila stepped away, sensing him stir. His knees wobbled before he flopped to the ground weakly.

“I suggest you restrict the man with conventional means,” Nonna offered. “He may still have a way to escape – an item; a potion or scroll concealed on his person.”

Ludmila did not have any rope or twine on hand, but she spotted the bolas on the ground nearby. She freed the sturdy cord from its weights with her dagger and came forward to bind the man’s hands. He saw her approach and rose to his hands and knees in an attempt to crawl away.

“Nonna.”

“「Dessicate」.”

There was a wheezing grunt and the man staggered and arched his back as the effects of the spell came over him. Ludmila watched as, this time, the man visibly changed – his skin dried and chapped; lips cracked and bled. His flesh seemed to shrink and shrivel like the moisture from his body was being wrung out of him. After the spell finished its work, she could hear his hoarse breathing, but he doggedly rose to his feet and limped off of the road towards the riverbank.

Ludmila sighed.

“「Wrack」.”

The man stopped to curl up into a ball, unable to restrain a high-pitched keen. His will broke not long after, however, and a horrific wail rose to fill the air, echoing off the cliffs on the far bank of the river. He rolled back and forth, alternating between sobbing, shouting and crying out in agony. Blisters rose from his hands and face, leaking pus and sticky ichor. Tears of blood leaked from his eyes, which were similarly painted a dark crimson.

“Wait, no!” Ludmila shouted in alarm over the sound of the man’s hoarse screams, “Don’t kill him!”

“The last spell does not actually do any physical damage,” Nonna replied casually. “It only inflicts suffering. Seeing it’s efficacy here, I shall recommend it for enforcement actions in the future amongst my peers.”

No physical damage? Ludmila eyed the man dubiously: his appearance certainly seemed to suggest that he had been horribly afflicted. If this was considered a harmless spell, she wasn’t sure that she wanted to know what a harmful one looked like.

“That’s definitely not a good idea, unless you get someone as stubborn as this guy,” Ludmila tried to dissuade the Elder Lich from promoting the use of the spell. “Actually no – even then, probably not. Something like this would definitely terrorize most of the citizens that witness it…how long is he going to be writhing around for?”

“A few minutes,” Nonna replied. “If he resumes his attempts to flee, I will recast the spell.”

Ludmila could not imagine that the man would have any fight left in him in the wake of his excruciating-looking experience. A motion out of the corner of her eye drew her attention: Aemilia was looking down from one of the village terraces, drawn by the heartrending cries of suffering coming from below. Before Ludmila walked back up the hill towards the village, she left instructions for her attaché.

“Let E-Rantel know we’ll be ready for transport in thirty minutes. Inform them of our additional passenger as well.”

Birthright: Act 3, Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Aemilia rushed down the village path, followed by her four skeletons, meeting her near the entrance to the settlement. She took one look at her mistress’ disheveled appearance and grass-stained clothing before flying into a panic.

“My Lady! What happened?” She said as she started fussing over Ludmila, “Are you alright? Are you injured anywhere?”

“I’ll be fine,” Ludmila replied as she walked past her maid. “Let’s head to the manor – we’re taking a trip to the city. Prepare a change of clothes and pack enough for an additional day or two.”

“Yes, my lady,” her maid ceased checking over her condition and fell in line behind her. “Is there anything else that needs to be prepared?”

“No, it will be a short trip. Leave the Skeletons to guard the village. We’ve about twenty minutes to get ready.”

Before they reached the manor, a new bout of agonized screaming rose over the hill. Apparently, the man had not had enough.

“What is that?” Aemilia cringed at the noise, “Does it have something to do with what happened to you?”

“Yes,” she answered tersely while stepping through the doorway of the manor. “There is a man down there being restrained by Nonna – Jeeves is gone.”

“W-what?!” Her maid gasped tearfully, “But why? Jeeves was so harmless!”

“The man thought that the village had been taken over by the Undead. He stopped me on the road near the bridge to prevent me from suffering a terrible fate at the hands of an evil necromancer.” Ludmila decided not to add who he thought the evil necromancer was, “When Jeeves came to meet me and hand over some paperwork I had asked him to deliver before our departure, he was destroyed by a weapon that was thrown at him.”

Aemilia’s hands stopped sorting through the luggage. Her face was conflicted: she probably realized that the man’s reaction was actually the normal one and her own was far from it. With the short time she had to prepare, she began working again after a moment, speaking sullenly.

“It’s still not fair,” she said. “He was working for you just like any of your retainers. If a Human servant was attacked like this simply because someone saw them and acted out of alarm, it would be murder.”

Ludmila agreed with her maid’s reasoning. While the more powerful Undead like Death Knights would probably not suffer any great injury from panic-driven assaults, the numerous Undead like the Skeleton labourers were probably just as susceptible to rocks and the like being thrown at them as Jeeves was. Something would need to be done so that outsiders did not randomly attack the Undead labourers, whatever their intentions.

They finished their preparations in silence, returning to where Nonna stood watch. The man now lay motionless on the side of the road. Ludmila bent over to pick up the rope again, binding his wrists behind his back.

“How many more times did you cast that spell on him?” She asked.

“Twice,” Nonna answered.

The man stirred at the sound of her voice. A bloodshot eye looked up balefully at her.

“Whuh…”

The sound slurred out of his mouth – he seemed entirely exhausted, but the waves of hostility coming out of him could be almost physically felt.

“Why…” His voice grated out, “You are one of us…a follower of The Six…you…betrayed…”

“You killed my warehouse manager,” Ludmila answered sternly. “One of my villagers. What do they do with murderers in the Theocracy?”

“…insane. This…insane. Betraying…humanity. Is that…what your priest…taught you, girl? …against the will…of the gods. This…heresy.”

His eyes closed with his accusation, and he did not stir beyond his uneven and ragged breathing. Ludmila turned and walked back across the road to where her Aemilia was watching worriedly. Straightening the parts of her mistress’ dress that had crinkled from tying up the man, she asked her a question.

“What was he saying, my lady?”

“He doesn’t understand why we sided with the Undead against a fellow Human.”

Ludmila supposed it was only the citizens of the Sorcerous Kingdom that might do so. No matter the race, nation or culture, the perception of the Undead was the same. They were beings that hated the living and only sought their destruction – regardless of how friendly you were to a skeleton that crawled out from somewhere, it would still try to take your life. Directly witnessing the foreigner act out of this common knowledge cast doubt on her confident prediction about how quickly the duchy would recover.

A fresh thought brought about by the incident prompted her to ask her maid a question she had not put much thought into before.

“Who do you worship, Aemilia?”

“The Six Great Gods, my lady,” Aemilia replied without hesitation. “This village worships The Six as well, I think? I saw the shrine at the top of the hill and was very pleased to have somewhere to offer my devotion and prayers.”

That she worshipped the same gods as Ludmila and the villagers of Warden’s Vale came as a bit of a surprise. Nearly everyone practiced one religion or the other – as the divine influence of the gods was something that could be plainly witnessed on a daily basis – but the majority of worship had shifted to the Four Great Gods in the northern Human nations. Worship of The Six had waned in Re-Estize to the point that only vestiges of the faith remained – such as the sites of the founding temples of cities like the cathedral in E-Rantel, or those smaller communities that were serviced by lone priests, such as Warden’s Vale.

“This man is from the Theocracy,” she told her maid. “He accused me of being a heretic and betraying Humanity.”

Aemilia looked back down the hill with a frown. It was evident that she, too, was troubled by the idea. When Warden’s Vale was a border territory of Re-Estize, the vast majority of the enemies that they stood against were the Demihumans and monsters that made the unclaimed wilderness their home. The doctrines of the Six Great Gods and the support of their institutions was an ideal arrangement given their shared interests in defending human realms against inhuman threats. With E-Rantel changing hands to the Sorcerous Kingdom, however, portions of the doctrine practiced in the Slane Theocracy were now at odds with the reality of the realm. Its temples in the north had a far less belligerent outlook, tempered by the reality of the nations they found themselves in, but it was still broadly the same faith.

Not only did the Sorcerous Kingdom have a multitude of Undead under an Undead sovereign, Momon had mentioned that there were other races as well – Nabe being from one such species. The faith of the Four Great Gods was more tolerant to non-Human races, but held an unequivocally hostile stance against the Undead that now left them in an awkward position. Since the Sorcerous Kingdom had retained the laws of Re-Estize, thus making it a secular state, Ludmila’s initial thought was that the Temple of the Six Great Gods would simply focus on catering to the Human population, reclaiming its place as one of the core elements of Human culture as other races started to appear in greater numbers. The Temples actually stood to gain in influence by doing so – acting as a sort of glue that bound the Human portions of the realm together; a part of the collective Human identity, so to speak.

The vehement reaction late that afternoon cast the shadow of doubt over her optimistic outlook, suggesting that it might have been foolish fancy. She had simply assumed that, like Aemilia and herself, others would also adapt and continue on with their lives. But if there were more zealous groups of people that rose up once they had gotten over their fear, it might become an uprising and the resulting crackdown would tear apart everything that Lady Shalltear had told her about what His Majesty desired to achieve. Perhaps she was overthinking it and the sheer might of the Sorcerer King’s servants would be a deterrent for any such actions, but this recent experience weighed heavily at the forefront of her mind.

A black hole in the air appearing near Nonna interrupted the flow of her worried thoughts. A few seconds after it had fully formed, two lithe figures appeared out of the portal, stepping soundlessly onto the grass. They seemed vaguely Human, heads scanning the surroundings purposefully as they took their positions. Four more appeared shortly after, spacing themselves out evenly over the hill. It was only then that Lady Shalltear appeared, accompanied by four of her Vampire Brides.

Ludmila immediately curtseyed, spreading the forest green skirts of her dress as she lowered her head. Aemilia followed suit.

“Welcome to Warden’s Vale, my lady,” she greeted her liege respectfully. “The Barony is at your service.”

Lady Shalltear’s crimson plate boots came into her view, parting the grass as she stepped forward. She was equipped in the sleek full plate armour that Ludmila had seen just once before, in the civil office.

“You may rise,” Lady Shalltear said.

“I did not expect for you to come personally, my lady,” Ludmila said as she straightened herself.

“It’s the first hostile intrusion into this realm since becoming a territory of His Majesty,” Lady Shalltear replied, “so it’s natural that I would respond. Besides, I’m curious what manner of individual would dare intrude in such an utterly pointless way.”

“Of course, my lady,” Ludmila pointed down the hill to where the man still lay across the road. “That is the person in question; his belongings are in the pile here.”

Lady Shalltear directed her Vampire Brides to retrieve the man and his belongings. The look on Lady Shalltear’s face when he was brought closer was somewhere between confusion and disappointment.

“Why would such a puny thing attack your fief?” She asked, “Was he really the only one?”

The idea that he was not alone did not occur to Ludmila at the time.

“He was the only person that appeared,” she answered. “We do not have the means to search the surrounding countryside even if it were the case.”

Lady Shalltear took a quick glance around at their surroundings before speaking once more.

“Come forth, my Household.”

Swarms of bats fluttered out from her shadow, filling the evening sky. They were followed by nearly a dozen of the wolf-like creatures that Ludmila had seen when the various types of Undead were displayed to her in the civil office.

“Search the surroundings for any intruders,” Lady Shalltear ordered and her Household immediately dispersed. “Four of you Hanzos; spread out and be ready to retrieve anything they find.”

The lithe, humanoid forms that were standing around the hill darted away at an unbelievable speed, disappearing out of sight within a few seconds. Lady Shalltear turned back to the two women and the Elder Lich on the hill.

“Thank you for your assistance, my lady,” Ludmila said. “This should normally be my duty.”

“You should already understand that restoring the productivity of the duchy takes priority,” her liege made a dismissive gesture with her hand. “Focusing on your work regarding those priorities was the right decision. Even if there were a hundred million men such as this, they could not hope to prevail.”

“About that…” Ludmila began tentatively, “I believe that there are a few things that must be made clear about this incident, my lady.”

“Go on…”

Lady Shalltear propped her weapon over her shoulder in the same way as she would her parasol as she listened to Ludmila recount the actions of the man and their resulting dialogue. As she shared her tale, both of the Vampire’s expressions turned incredulous.

“So he tried to save you from your own subordinates and ended up being captured instead?” Lady Shalltear’s soft laughter chimed over the hillside, “That’s quite amusing – maybe I should play the part of the damsel next time?”

“I believe that he was genuinely trying to help me,” Ludmila said, “which I cannot rightfully hold against him. However, it led to criminal acts in my territory…except Re-Estize has no laws regarding a case such as this. Does the Sorcerous Kingdom have any rulings over the destruction of Undead servants? Are they citizens as well? Property?”

“Now that you bring it up,” Lady Shalltear said, “I don’t think so. The relationship between the servants of His Majesty and intruders has always been inherently understood; establishing such measures has never warranted consideration.”

“Then what would the regular penalty be if, say, one of your attendants was slain in your demesne by an intruder?”

“Death.”

“...how about a Skeleton?”

“Death.”

“Trespassing?”

“Death.”

“...”

“I am very thorough in my duties,” Lady Shalltear smiled and puffed out her chest proudly.

“I can understand this sort of action being justifiable against hostile invaders, my lady,” Ludmila asked, “but what about those with less belligerent intentions? There are Druids that prefer to live out in nature, and they care very little for national borders. Adventurers often take work that will have them cross those boundaries multiple times as they fulfil their commissions.”

“I doubt there will be any of that sort of work for Adventurers here. The duchy has already been cleared of undesirable elements such as brigands and monsters that threaten the citizens. Merchants and travellers will, of course, be welcome so long as they do not run afoul of His Majesty’s will.”

“「Gate」.”

Lady Shalltear opened a new portal and waved the Vampire Brides through with the captured man.

“It doesn’t seem like there is anything nearby,” she said as the man was carried through and the Gate closed. “The search will continue, but there is little reason for us to remain here.”

Her immediate duties attended to, Lady Shalltear took on a more conversational tone.

“So this is your demesne...” she spoke as she turned to look around once again. “It’s much…larger than I thought it would be.”

“Frontier territories are large,” Ludmila replied, “but at the same time they are not well developed. Most of our resources are focused on maintaining the borders, so growth in other aspects is much slower.”

Ludmila cringed a bit internally as she saw Lady Shalltear’s gaze turn up to the village. Her liege’s expression did not change, but Ludmila still imagined comparisons being made. Surely Lady Shalltear’s residence was some grand palace in a wealthy, cosmopolitan city, and certainly nothing resembling the dark hole in the ground that was Ludmila’s manor.

“We are prepared to depart, my lady,” Ludmila imagined her pride being shredded to tatters and wanted to get away as quickly as possible. “If there is nothing further that needs to be addressed here…”

“Yes,” Lady Shalltear said, “we should get going. The Guardian Overseer should be calling for yet another one of her incessant meetings soon.”

The unenthused tone of her voice generated curiosity as to the content of those meetings but, before Ludmila could ask any questions about them, a new Gate opened before them and Lady Shalltear motioned them through. The familiar sight of the central district remained little changed since they had left earlier in the week.

Stepping off of the gazebo together, Ludmila turned to address Lady Shalltear.

“Thank you once again, my lady,” she said. “Will you be available to help transport us back tomorrow? My ship is still at the village.”

“Yes, of course,” Lady Shalltear replied. “Around this time, just before the daily meeting, should be fine.”

“Thank, my lady,” Ludmila lowered her head, “We will be waiting for you then.”

The Rural Fief

Rural fiefs consist of the majority of the land in agrarian realms, and are home to the vast majority of their population. Commonly situated far from prosperous centres of industry or trade, these poorly developed territories are those most likely to be granted to the gentry and lesser nobility of feudal societies. Like most other noble titles, these lands are granted in relation to the terms defined between liege and vassal and are often shrewdly negotiated in order to prevent the nobles within a lord’s demesne from obtaining too much wealth, influence and power. As such, most minor nobles tend to only earn enough to maintain a modest living not much better than that of a commoner – even as they are bound to the obligations outlined by their noble contract.

The smallest subdivisions of manorial land in Re-Estize are often cunningly calculated to only allow for a standard of living barely within one’s means – after taxes, usually…sometimes. This is due to the fact that the majority of the nation’s nobles do not have large, robust, personal retinues where a member of the gentry such as a Knight might need a larger allotment of land to maintain the standards of training, equipment and staff required for rendering military service. This lack of local military power also means that many nobles are unable to project their influence over what is technically their land, and rely on Adventurers in the event that threats arise.

As such, a prominent noble often practices Métayage – a form of sharecropping – in their fief. Hamlets and farming villages are locally managed by their tenants for a share of the harvest, and a single representative of variable education and skill – usually a chief or elder – is selected from amongst their number to tend to local administrative matters in a non-hereditary arrangement. While this system optimizes immediate tax revenues, increases the available pool of manpower for levy quotas and foregoes the need to worry about political infighting between aristocrats at the lowest divisions of a demesne, it also leaves next to no opportunity for development available to those at the bottom rungs of society. Disasters which lead to famine and the loss of what little development exists are particularly devastating.

The lords of fiefs which have become mired in subsistence may engage in – or be forced into – activities such as producing and trafficking contraband or engaging in banditry, slavery and other criminal acts in order to shore up their ailing finances or fund out-of-reach ambitions. Cases of extreme and arbitrary taxation and tolls to the point of starving one’s own tenants and suppressing trade are, unfortunately, heard of often enough. Contrary to the popular perception of ruling over pastoral vistas from wealthy manors, the majority of rural fiefs – and thus the majority of the nobility – exist in a state where they are little more than serfs themselves, inexorably bound to the land and the highlords ruling over them.

A minor noble might occasionally come across the opportunity to improve their demesne in a bid to lift themselves above the circumstances that entrap them. Technology or knowledge may become available to turn things for the better; new resources or more efficient forms of labour can provide the foundation that a fief needs to grow out of the rut that they have been stuck in for generations. Even so, these chances are rare and often require a requisite investment that an impoverished noble cannot afford, while covetous neighbors or even one’s own liege may plot to seize newfound sources of prosperity.

Birthright: Act 3, Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Ludmila’s borrowed manor in the city was still the only one with Death Knights standing guard, though she supposed that the short time she had been away was too soon to expect any visible change. As they approached the gate to the manor, Aemilia spoke.

“A moment please, my lady,” she said, coming to a stop in front of one of the Death Knights. “I should go ahead and let the others know of your arrival.”

The maid looked up at the Death Knight expectantly, but when it made no movement, she let out her breath in a huff. She chose two of the spikes protruding from its armour to hang their baggage from and walked between them to the manor entrance, muttering to herself. After the door closed behind her, the Death Knight looked down at the bags hanging off of its armour.

“Footmen are supposed to help with baggage and other heavy articles,” Ludmila offered helpfully, “as well as open doors and valet guests. They are also expected to keep the property outside of the manor swept and clean, so you two may want to see to that before the maids come out to harass you about it.”

The Death Knight wordlessly took the bags into its hand. Several minutes passed before the door of the manor once again opened, and the three maids that had remained in E-Rantel lined up along the lane to the entrance while Aemilia once again took her place behind her. Ludmila stepped onto the lane and the row of maids curtsied.

“Welcome back, my lady,” they said in unison.

Terah rose to address her as she walked past them into the manor.

“We did not expect your return so soon, my lady,” her Housekeeper apologized. “I thought you should have just arrived in your demesne today.”

“You are not mistaken, Mrs. Ro’eh,” Ludmila replied. “Originally, I stated that it would take about this long. Our journey upriver was a full day faster than expected, and we were transported back to the city this evening through magical means. We shouldn’t be staying for more than a day – there are just some additional things that need to be done before we return to the barony.”

The manor was significantly cleaner than when she had left it, but the damage to the hall had still not been repaired. Everywhere else, the dust had been swept away and the floors and fixtures polished to a dull gleam. A trace of the scent purchased from LeNez lingered in the air.

“Will you be taking your evening meal here, my lady?” Terah asked before Ludmila ascended to her solar.

“Yes,” she replied, then paused her steps. “Has there been any response to the staff requests I left with you?”

“Surprisingly, there have. But no Cook yet. You’ll have to suffer my food for a bit longer, my lady.”

“I did not mean it in that way, Mrs. Ro’eh,” Ludmila smiled slightly. “I rather enjoy your meals.”

After the Death Knight dropped off the baggage in her solar, she bathed and changed into a fresh white chemise, covering herself with a dark green robe that Aemilia had picked out in Corelyn Village. The woolen fabric was sturdy and comfortable, and she had to agree that it was more practical to wear about the manor than just a smock or being fully dressed as she had thought doing before. Her maid had even found a pair of matching slippers to use indoors.

Leaving her solar to pass the time before dinner on the main floor, Ludmila found the Linum sisters waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs.

“The Dining Room is ready to be used, my lady,” between the two, Lluluvien was the one to speak as usual. “Dinner is nearly ready.”

Ludmila had spent so little time actually living in the manor that she had forgotten there was a Dining Room. On the night that she had first looked around, the dusty room’s furniture had been draped with cloth and put away in a corner, so she had decided against using it. The sisters led her around the courtyard and she found that the room was now cleaned and well-lit. There was a long mahogany dining table lined with chairs carved with the flowing designs seen elsewhere in the manor. At the head of the table, a seat had been prepared; dishes and utensils laid out for her use.

She seated herself and continued looking over the lavish setting, feeling entirely out of place. The guest manors were meant to impress the hospitality of the city on visiting nobles and dignitaries, so she supposed that it shouldn’t have been a surprise to see such finery on display. The plates and bowls were fashioned out of jade porcelain and there were a half dozen silver utensils laid out on a pure white cloth. Two silver candle stands placed equidistant from one another on the dining table each held three lit beeswax candles. The candles themselves lent very little in terms of additional lighting, so it seemed wastefully extravagant to Ludmila, whose manor in Warden’s Vale used two old oil lamps and a small cookfire.

Aemilia appeared a short while later, replacing Wiluvien who had stayed in the dining room to attend to her. Wiluvien left the room and returned shortly after with her sister and Terah. The sisters each held a tray, one with her meal and the other with a tea set, and Terah led the small procession with a set of linen towel napkins draped over her arm. Ludmila watched as they laid out dinner on the table – it almost seemed a ceremony with how focused each of her maids looked as they worked. Her meal was a combination of the food that she had dropped off earlier in the week and the bread and meats that were used to prepare her meals while she traveled. The tubers were roasted, and a thin, spicy soup had been made from the watercress.

“You have my apologies if there is a lack of flavour,” Terah lowered her head as Ludmila sampled the meal. “There have been no merchants selling spices or condiments – well, no merchants at all, actually. Meals will be rather plain until they return.”

The meal seemed fine to her. Each ingredient had its own distinct taste and texture, so it wasn’t as if the food was bland. With the ingredients that had been included, it seemed a rather fancy variation on her regular meals rather than the substandard fare Terah suggested it might be. She worked through a quarter of it before slowing down to speak to her Housekeeper.

“You said there have been responses to the requests you put out?” Ludmila asked Terah after she washed down the portion of her meal with some sort of red tea.

“Yes, my lady,” the Housekeeper replied, “I have not been able to see the Head Maid in the city – she is strangely hard to meet with – for household staff, but we’ve received a small handful of replies for tenants.”

Ludmila thought that the Head Maid would be the easiest to get a hold of, as she was said to be training new maids in the central district. Perhaps it would have been easier to go through Yuri Alpha, who was the one to deliver her staff on the first evening that she had arrived in the city.

“The first was a…strange man that came personally to the manor to inquire about tenancy as a farmer,” Terah continued. “His odd appearance aside, I am not sure how a common farmer could bravely make their way through the gauntlet of Undead in the streets to the central district just to ask.”

“A strange man…with an odd appearance?”

“Yes, my lady,” Terah nodded. “He seemed less frightened like one would expect and more, hmm…excited? Maybe a bit too excited. I am not sure how to describe it, exactly. You may want to see him for yourself – maybe with one of the footmen, to be safe – he left his address with us.”

“I will pay him a visit when I am out in the city tomorrow,” Ludmila said. “Who else was there?”

“The Merchant Guild sent us a notice. Several woodcutters and most notably a smith – I believe you’ve placed a priority on finding one.”

“Really?” Ludmila’s ears perked up at her words, “That’s a pleasant surprise. Was there any mention as to what sort of smith, or why they came forward?”

“There were no details, my lady,” Terah shrugged. “It was a simple note delivered by a very frightened-looking courier from the Guild.”

“I see…was there anything else?”

“No, my lady. It has been otherwise uneventful here. We’re running out of things to do in the manor, though the hall still needs repairs whenever we can find the people for it.”

“How is the city, then?”

With the official business out of the way, Terah assumed a more relaxed posture and Ludmila resumed her meal.

“I’ve seen very little change from when you left, my lady,” she said. “For the past day or so we’ve been fairly busy cleaning up the manor and making it livable, but I haven’t noticed anyone in the streets from the windows and I have not been out of the manor. Well, there must be some people moving about, considering what we’ve received from the Merchant Guild. The Linum sisters have gotten brave enough to check the letterbox behind the Death Knights in the front, and I still don’t dare give those two footmen any sort of instructions.”

“Speaking of which,” Ludmila said as her Housekeeper’s words brought the topic to mind, “we’ve been experimenting with using Undead as labour out in the demesne. Even Luzi was able to employ a group of them to help with village upkeep.”

“Surely you jest, my lady.”

Terah started with a laugh but, after noticing Aemilia’s somewhat proud expression to the side, the smile fell off of her face.

“Wait, you’re serious?”

“I am,” Ludmila nodded. “Luzi has been quite successful at it, so we thought that we could reduce the amount of junior staff required for menial labour and simply have a handful of household staff directing the Undead. It would result in better accommodations for the staff that we do take on and cut down on manor upkeep.”

The Housekeeper’s gaze turned inwards with a grim expression. Whether she was considering the utility of the Undead or just the idea of sharing the same space as them, Ludmila was not sure.

“So all that would remain are the senior staff, chambermaids and the kitchen staff?” Terah asked.

“You are the Housekeeper, Mrs. Ro’eh,” Ludmila told her, “so I will leave how things are arranged in your hands. You will probably have to investigate their usefulness at various tasks before settling on what is appropriate. I am entirely uncertain how well Undead labour will handle kitchen duties; the Cook will need to determine this whenever we finally have one. Also, I suspect that attending to guests will most still rely on Human staff, so household duties may be a bit unconventional compared to how things would usually be.”

“If we’re able to reduce our staffing needs by three quarters,” Terah said carefully, “it certainly seems like it would make hiring a much more simple matter. If Luzi has already approved of their use, they should at least meet the standards required of junior staff for regular household labour. We would have to find those willing to work with the Undead on a permanent basis, though.”

“As you have mentioned, Mrs. Ro’eh, we will not need many more – I am also of the mind that we should only be hiring those who can work with the Undead, given the new realities of the realm.” Ludmila glanced at the Linum sisters, “If Wiluvien and Lluluvien fill positions as chambermaids, I’m not even sure if we need any more maids for the city. Between them, they can direct eight Undead labourers to handle menial chores all around the manor.”

“D-direct, my lady?” Lluluvien abruptly spoke after hearing Ludmila’s words, “You mean they just won’t work on their own?”

Terah shot a reprimanding glance at the Half-Elf maid for speaking out of turn, but Ludmila waved away her concerns.

“Skeletons, at least, need some sort of direction,” Ludmila answered. “Their actions are also dependent on the instructions of their handler so, ultimately, the results of their work will rely on your ability to convey your own expertise through them. Luzi has spent most of the day with her own group cleaning up the village, so she can explain much better than I could on how they can be applied to your duties.”

Following her words, the room was quiet until Ludmila finished her meal. Placing her utensils and napkin aside, she rose from the table.

“I will be working in my solar,” she said. “It will be another long day tomorrow, so I will not need anything further for tonight.”

Birthright: Act 3, Chapter 13

Chapter 13

The following morning, Ludmila left early with her lady’s maid and brought one of her footmen to accompany them. Now familiar with procedures, she was able to make her requests at the civil office and be on her way within a half hour. There were a few differences from her original request, based on the news that she would actually be welcoming new tenants and from what she had learned on the field the previous day.

The three new farming teams were each composed of 80 Skeletons, 20 Bone Vultures and two pairs of Death Knights to operate the heavier equipment. Ludmila had originally intended to use the Bone Vultures and Undead Beasts for other work, but the flying Undead had proven surprisingly useful for efficiently transporting small loads to and from the fields, saving precious time as she worked to not fall even further behind in the planting season.

She would take the Undead Beasts and half of the Bone Vultures already working in the barony to test out what they had been originally intended for, and she had requested an additional 40 Skeletons and three Death Knights, unsure exactly how many each of the new woodcutters could manage. As an afterthought, she filled out an additional request for four Skeletons to be evaluated in the city manor while she was away – there was no official form for it, but between the Elder Liches at the counter and herself, they managed to draw up a miscellaneous request.

When the Undead arrived in front of the office for inspection, they filled the entire avenue with their neatly formed ranks. Rather than having them wait in the military district once again, Ludmila had them follow her wagon out into the city. She had given the Soul Eater operating the wagon instructions to drive to Mesmit’s Forge, and it had trotted off immediately – she wasn’t sure if it was the same Soul Eater as before or it simply knew what she was referring to somehow.

Needless to say, the passage of the wagon followed by a column of hundreds of Undead made quite the racket. Looking up, Ludmila saw people peeking out of the windows of their homes, staring wide-eyed as they passed below in the streets.

“Doesn’t it seem like we’re leading an army through the street, my lady?”

Ludmila did not think that there was much of a difference, especially considering that most came with their weapons.

“It basically is?” She replied, “This should become a common sight soon, I think – as long as the nobles have to move large numbers of Undead labourers from the city to their territories…hmm, this might actually become a problem. Nobles with large territories will disrupt city life with thousands of Undead labourers running around like this. I don’t know where they are keeping them all, but they’ll need to stop having the labourers present themselves in the central district every time someone’s request is approved.”

As they made their way through to the eastern quarter of the city, the scene continued repeating itself. She imagined all the people that would normally be using the streets: heading to and from their places of work, transporting goods and driving carts and wagons. It would definitely be a bad idea to march this many Undead around when the city returned to normal, blocking traffic and interfering with business.

She squeezed the Undead column into the alley leading to the back gate of Mesmit’s Forge to get them off of the main street. The Soul Eater parked the wagon near the storefront and the sound of chimes accompanied their entrance to the shop. The shopkeeper raised his head at the sound and stepped out from behind the counter, bobbing his head in greeting.

“Welcome, Baroness,” his eyes briefly went from Ludmila to her maid, then scanned for any additional visitors before returning to her. “How may we assist you today?”

“I have a need for more equipment,” she held out her order as she replied. “Do you still have inventory left for purchase?”

“Indeed we do, my lady,” The shopkeeper said as he received the sheet of paper, “We haven’t had anyone else come by since your visit a few days ago.”

He looked down at the order form, which used the template provided by the Merchant Guild. His eyebrows raised momentarily, then drew down as he tilted his head silently.

“Is there a problem with the order?” Ludmila said after the silence stretched on for several moments.

“No, my lady,” he looked back up to her and replied. “We are more than happy to fill your order – the problem lies…elsewhere.”

The shopkeeper opened the back door and gestured for them to follow as he voiced his thoughts.

“Your purchase will clear space in the warehouse so we can continue dealing with all these abandoned orders of spears – ah Forgemaster,” he interrupted his explanation when the muscular frame of Ysbrant Mesmit appeared to fill the corridor before them. “Baroness Zahradnik has come to make another purchase.”

The Forgemaster took the order form and made a gruff hpmh noise after glancing over it.

“Looks like you’re getting pretty ambitious here, Baroness,” he said as they continued on their way. “Too bad we can’t take advantage of most of the space you’ll be freeing up.”

“I was just explaining that, Forgemaster,” the shopkeeper said. “While we have thousands of weapons left to cast into tools, we’re going to run out of fuel soon.”

“Sounds about right,” Ysbrant affirmed. “Since charcoal is produced in the duchy, we usually don’t need to stock a whole lot. But shipments have stopped – just like this whole damn city has stopped – since the territory was annexed.”

“What about the city warehouses?” Ludmila suggested, “The central administration has been keeping the citizens supplied – I do not think they would mind selling you some of their stores, considering your purpose.”

“I asked when the lady that you were with the other day came around to distribute food and sundries to the neighborhood yesterday,” the Forgemaster replied. “Most of what the city has is firewood, which doesn’t burn hot enough for our work – we can’t exactly turn it to charcoal in the middle of the city either. The bit of coal and charcoal that they do have isn’t anywhere near enough to keep us running. If the territories producing charcoal don’t start shipping soon, the city forges’ll go cold within a week of restarting operations.”

“I see,” Ludmila recognized it as an appeal from the taciturn man. “I will visit Countess Jezne later today and ask if there is anything she can do.”

“That would definitely fix our problem, Baroness,” his voice tightened as he pulled the main warehouse door open, “at least this particular one. I didn’t know why you had me keep the storefront open back when you asked, but I feel pretty stupid for letting everything that's happened blind me to running my own damn business. It’s easy to take for granted when things are normal, but when even one piece is missing everything else grinds to a halt.”

“You are not alone in this, Forgemaster,” Ludmila said. “We are fortunate that His Majesty is possessed of both the grace and wisdom to provide for us in this time of transition.”

“I guess that’s true,” the Forgemaster admitted. “If this sort of thing happened in Re-Estize, who knows what would’ve happened. Maybe they’d have sent armed men into the streets to try and force us back to work.”

Ysbrant moved to open the gate to the yard, but stopped when he saw the hundreds of Undead standing in the alley.

“The hell?”

Ludmila hid her smile at the gruff man’s reaction.

“Worry not, Forgemaster,” she said from behind him, “they are not here to force you to do anything. I brought my labourers along this time to pick up their equipment. In hindsight, however, it is probably not such a good idea to block the road with them.”

“You’re using Undead to farm?” Ysbrant said dubiously, “Is that even safe?”

“I have just started testing them out in the fields, but their performance so far has been promising – enough that I am quadrupling the amount of labour to speed things along. They will come in to pick up what they have been ordered to retrieve, so your employees can continue working without interruption.”

Heeding Nonna’s ‘advice’ on her abilities, Ludmila was experimenting with how well these Undead could carry out her orders. Before they had arrived, she stood on the wagon bed and issued a chain of orders to the column of labourers following her. Both Lady Shalltear and Nonna had stated they could only follow simple instructions normally, so she wanted to test her ability to command relative to that basic outline. All there was to be seen now was how well the orders held.

The Forgemaster opened the gate, standing back as the Undead walked in single file to pick up their tools from the warehouse. The first step was working so far. The Skeletons came in, picked up their tools and walked back out of the gate. When the tools within easy reach ran out, they used each other as makeshift ladders to take equipment from higher shelves. This was not something she had specifically instructed them to do – the descriptions that she had heard about their capacity to follow instructions was very general, so she did not use any contingency orders to see how they would go about completing their tasks.

Watching the outbound line file out of the yard, Ludmila hoped that they would make it all the way to their next destination, which was back in the Central District. She spaced the Death Knights – who were intelligent enough to be able to follow all of her instructions – at even intervals between the Skeleton labourers. If the limit of her ability happened somewhere along the way, they were to round up the lost Undead and take command of their respective formations, marching them the rest of the way themselves.

“That easy, huh.”

The Forgemaster had his arms crossed over his chest, warily watching the orderly procession. His shopkeeper nervously stood beside him as the Undead passed by, shrinking behind his boss every time a Death Knight came close.

“I’ve had a bit of practice,” she replied.

Ludmila did not want to boast about her own ability, but what came out instead made it sound like anyone could learn how to command vast numbers of Undead servants with this degree of complexity – which was probably not the case. She tried to expand on what she had carelessly said.

“I think anyone that has experience directing large groups of people should be able to do this.”

“You’re saying I could do the same?” Ysbrant laughed, “I got eight journeymen working under me; does that mean I can boss eight of these Undead around?”

“My maid has been ordering around four of them all of yesterday,” she looked to Aemilia, “so I would say at least that many should be a reasonable expectation. You could use the Undead to assist you, and each of your journeymen should be able to do so as well.”

Ludmila looked across the yard to where Ysbrant’s employees were working to see if she could figure out an example for their use.

“The Skeletons can only perform straightforward tasks,” she said, “so pumping bellows, cleaning the workshop and helping to move things around would be among the things they should be able to do without much difficulty. What they can do beyond that would be subject to your own imagination and skills, as I have little knowledge about your trade. You would need to figure out how many you actually need to keep up with each person’s work. Maybe just one or two is enough, but it still means that you would go from having two or three of your employees working on a single project to each one of them working on their own.”

The Forgemaster scratched his chin with a thoughtful expression on his face. When Ludmila had initially gone through her own calculations, her imagination had run off with her entirely and nothing had worked out exactly as planned thus far. Ysbrant seemed like a much more level-headed person than she was, though.

“B-but that’s crazy!” The shopkeeper exclaimed. He appeared to have digested her words as well.

“Any fool can see that,” snapped Ysbrant. “You said they can do this for any simple labour?”

“As far as I have seen, yes,” Ludmila said. “There are stronger, more intelligent Undead like the Death Knights available, but I am not sure if it is worth having them just to handle heavy loads. Most of your labour seems to be tied up doing lighter work.”

“So what’s the downside?”

“As long as the demand for your work outpaces your capacity to provide it,” Ludmila said, “there should be no direct downside. Even the skeletal labourers on the lower end of the leasing schedule do not get tired, do not need food or sleep and follow instructions precisely as long as they are capable of carrying them out. They do not become excited or depressed, nor do they complain – well, I had one that complained, but it was because he thought he lacked work to do.”

“And the cost?”

“The ones I have for agriculture are rented out for a tenth of the harvest – if I have it right, it comes out to being less than what it costs to support a single tenant farmer for an equivalent amount of time. If they maintain that rate for other forms of labour, it would be far cheaper than having a skilled worker doing menial tasks.”

“I get that,” Ysbrant said as he watched the Undead who had emptied out most of the warehouse. “Everything will change if what you say pans out, am I right?”

“For better or worse,” Ludmila said in a subdued voice. “Each noble and business will have to decide how to incorporate this new source of cheap labour. Hopefully, they are not tempted to just put their Human labourers out into the street in favour of the Undead. If that happens, there will be a lot of people looking for work all at once. But, sooner or later E-Rantel will become many times more prosperous than it has ever been – especially if you only consider things purely in terms of productivity.”

The last pair of Death Knights walked out with their plough and the Forgemaster locked the warehouse and the gate up behind them. He led them back out to the storefront.

“Well, once I get my fuel issues fixed,” he said, “I guess I’ll see what this is all about.”

While they were waiting for the shopkeeper to settle the bill, the sound of the door chimes turned their heads. A large man stormed in – he was similar in disposition and frame as Ysbrant, so Ludmila assumed it was one of the other smiths in the quarter – and immediately started shouting when his eyes found him.

“Mesmit! You’re alive! I saw all those Undead come in and run off with your inventory: were you just robbed? I knew that those things would be up to no good eventually.”

“You coward!” Ysbrant shouted back angrily, “Did you really just wait ‘till they all left? Were you coming to see if I was alive, or did you come to dance on my corpse?”

As they shouted back and forth across the length of the store, Ludmila wanted to cover her ears – especially with the Forgemaster standing right beside her. Did they always yell at each other like this?

“Anyways you’re dead wrong, heh,” Ysbrant chuckled at his own words. “The Lady here just cleaned out my warehouse.”

“WHAT!”

The response rolled over them like a shockwave; Ludmila wondered if this man or Germaine Lenez was louder.

“Oh.”

Seeing Ludmila and her maid, the man at the door removed the cap from his head and did something that she thought might have been a bow. He turned back to his exchange with Ysbrant Mesmit.

“Why didn’t you say anything, you greedy ass!”

“Bullshit!” Ysbrant returned, “It’s your own damn fault for closing shop. Sell me your charcoal too since you’re not using it anyways.”

“Like hell I will!” The other smith turned to Ludmila, “Since this guy’s burned himself out, you should drop b–”

“Here’s the bill, Baroness,” Ysbrant pushed the stamped sheet into Ludmila’s hands and guided his clients out past the other smith. “You should get out of here before he tries to sell you some crap you don’t even need. Make sure you let Countess Jezne know we need her charcoal.”

The two women quickly found themselves out on the street, and the sounds of shouting continued to come through the door of the shop even as the Soul Eater rolled the wagon away.

Birthright: Act 3, Chapter 14

Chapter 14

The Soul Eater brought them back to the manor, parking its wagon in the service road behind the building. On the way, Ludmila was relieved to see that all of the Undead had made it back to the avenue in front of the Civil Office. As the wagon rolled by, she issued orders for the new labourers to stand by near the villa gardens.

She still needed to drop by the Merchant Guild to drop off the forge’s invoice and look into the notices that were delivered while she was away. There was also the strange man that had come to visit the manor claiming to be a Farmer. She wanted to visit Baroness Corelyn as well to let her know that her village was waiting for her return, and Countess Jezne needed to know that the city needed her demesne’s exports of fuel. It was a moderately long list of things to do, but there would be a few hours left before the time she had agreed to meet with Lady Shalltear; just before the daily meeting of the Royal Court. Ludmila thought about paying Germaine Lenez a visit, but she still hadn’t come up with anything substantial to entice her with.

Following a quick lunch at the manor, Ludmila decided to stop by and visit Baroness Corelyn first. Clara came to answer much more quickly this time, opening the door with only a hint of hesitation.

“Ludmila?” Clara Corelyn said with a puzzled look on her face, “Didn’t you just leave for Warden’s Vale a few days ago?”

“I did,” she replied. “I came back for a day to see to some things, but I’ll be headed out again this evening. Lady Shalltear has graciously helped us get to and fro.”

“I see…” Clara’s tone suggested that she did not get what Ludmila meant at all, “well, we’ve just finished lunch – would you like to come in?”

“Thank you, Clara,” Ludmila replied, “but I still have to drop by Countess Jezne’s manor before heading out into the city. How is Baron Hamel doing?”

“He goes back and forth now,” Lady Corelyn said. “We still take meals together. He can’t cook at all, but at least I can cobble together something passable for us.”

“Did you see about getting new manor staff? You’re going to be too busy to do that sort of thing sooner or later.”

“I’ve tried,” a hint of exasperation entered Clara’s voice, “That Head Maid is nowhere to be found. We’ve been instructed to see her for our staffing needs, but she's never available – it’s almost as if she’s actively avoiding us.”

This was the second time today Ludmila had heard of the difficulties revolving around the ‘Head Maid in E-Rantel’. Why did this mysterious person even exist if she couldn’t even perform her duties?

“Have you checked with Miss Alpha?” Ludmila suggested, “When I first arrived, she was the one who introduced me to my current Household staff.”

“The Royal Maid?” Clara frowned, “That hardly seems appropriate. The Royal Household should be attending to His Majesty – they shouldn’t need to chase around the central district’s support staff.”

Clara was correct: there was absolutely no need for the Royal Household to be doing what Ludmila had suggested.

“Luzi,” Ludmila addressed her lady’s maid, “do you know anything about this ‘Head Maid’?”

“Yes, my lady,” Aemilia nodded. “Tsuareninya – The Head Maid in E-Rantel – was responsible for training the four of us, and she was training more staff besides. I admit it is an unheard of position: E-Rantel has had no such office before now. Development of household staff is usually part of a housekeeper or butler’s duties.”

What her maid said was in line with the common knowledge of the region. While temporary hired help might receive training from outsiders, professional households were usually trained internally as a matter of necessity. Ludmila had no complaints about the four maids who had joined her household, but it was still an unconventional arrangement.

“What is she like?” Ludmila asked.

“She is a bit older than I am, I think.” Aemilia answered after thinking for a moment, “But she is extremely strict. It was almost like she had it out for us even after we passed our evaluations. Miss Alpha seemed to be concerned about it as she monitored our progress. Tsuareninya seemed to be much softer on the Linum sisters, though…I cannot figure out why that is.”

From what Ludmila had experienced so far, the Sorcerous Kingdom was run by mostly austere individuals. She couldn’t imagine them allowing anyone to play favourites like that, but perhaps she only thought this because her exposure to their side was limited to Lady Shalltear, Yuri Alpha and the Undead servitors. She thought about sending the Linum sisters to go see the Head Maid, but it probably wouldn’t immediately help Baroness Corelyn.

“What about bringing some of the household staff from your territory?” Ludmila offered an alternative, “When I left the other day, it looked like things were returning back to normal in your village.”

“Is that so? That would be the best option, I suppose…” Clara’s voice trailed off for a moment, “I’ll have to see about hiring a carriage. I was already in the city when everything happened, and usual ones don’t appear to be available right now.”

“I hired a wagon from the city warehouse to get to the harbour,” Ludmila told her. “They’re free to use for the time being.”

“That would work. How did you call for one?”

“They can be requested from the civil office,” Ludmila replied. “I believe that any regular business you have directly with the Sorcerous Kingdom is being funneled through there.”

“So business as usual, then,” Clara nodded slowly. “Did you encounter any difficulties when you went there? Lord Rettenmeier and all of the people under him ran off, so there must be quite a few things to get used to for the new administrative staff.”

“There are many new systems in place – they’ve done away with most of the old procedures entirely. Fortunately, there are manuals provided with the new materials and the paperwork is easy to get used to. The clerks will do their best to answer any questions you have as well; the office never closes, so you can visit at your leisure.”

“It never closes?” Clara tilted her head, “How does that work? When do they sleep?”

“They don’t. The entire office is staffed by His Majesty’s servants.”

Lady Corelyn paled, her eyes widening.

“You just calmly walked in and filled out paperwork in front of a horde of Undead?”

“Well, I filled them out the night before after studying the new systems, but I did spend some time in the office in order to have things clarified. It was a bit before I came to visit the other day.”

“Ludmila!” Clara cried in a distraught voice, “You know I can’t handle that! I’m not some Frontier Noble that bathes in the blood of Demihumans every day.”

“I what?”

Clara half-closed her door to peek out from behind it.

“You know what I mean! I can barely leave this manor for fear of the Undead.”

Ludmila pushed open the door again.

“The Undead won’t be going away at any point in the foreseeable future,” she told her, “so you should get used to them already. Your tenants are already getting back to work – the rate you’re going at here, they’ll be drinking away all of your taxes.”

Lady Corelyn pouted, making a dissatisfied sound. Her Barony was one of the wealthiest territories in the duchy due to its place straddling a length of the fertile Katze River Valley. Ludmila’s sales from a few days ago were a pittance in comparison. Clara’s face brightened again as she thought of an idea.

“How about we go together then?” She asked, “Just this once. I’ll waive your harbour fees the next time you drop by.”

“If it’s fear of the Undead that’s keeping you from visiting the civil office,” Ludmila answered, “I’m afraid that it would only be a short term solution. The wagon you’ll be leasing is drawn by an Undead horse, and all of the assistance that they offer for security and labour is also Undead.”

The hopeful expression was dashed off of Clara’s face with Ludmila’s straightforward statement. Maybe she was being too blunt again.

“I’ve been employing the Undead for a few days now,” Ludmila made an attempt at reassuring her crestfallen friend, “both within the city and out in Warden’s Vale. There have been no outstanding issues so far and, the way I see it, their use will be commonplace eventually. I’m trying to help you get ahead since we’ve been good friends for as long as I can remember, and our families have always been allies. Your demesne is waiting for you, and Baron Vintner’s lands across the highway look to have been abandoned. If you move to demonstrate your capabilities, His Majesty may grant you Vintner’s title as well.”

The idea that she could effectively double the size of her holdings seemed to have some effect. Ludmila knew that Clara was not a greedy woman, but any capable noble would leap at the opportunity to further put their skills to use and expand their demesne. A minute passed before the calculating look passed from her face.

“Do you think that’s actually possible?” She asked.

“As I understand it,” Ludmila said, “the administration’s priority is getting things back to normal again. They would be ecstatic if a noble of your calibre returned to her duties and, considering how absurdly powerful the Sorcerous Kingdom is, they have no reason to fear you becoming any kind of threat. Just don’t become a repeat of Count Fassett.”

Ludmila’s expression of confidence was in no way an exaggeration: Clara Corelyn was nothing short of a genius and, when it came to noble matters, she was someone who knew no peer. Most of Ludmila’s extended knowledge concerning administration, diplomacy and economics stemmed from her long relationship with her childhood friend. Under the auspices of the Sorcerous Kingdom, Ludmila thought Clara’s future seemed limitless…that is, if she could only be prodded out of her fearfulness.

“You found out what happened to him?” Clara frowned at the mention of Count Fassett, “We were informed that he had been disposed of for overstepping his bounds, but they left it on that very vague and ominous note.”

Ludmila shared what she had learned about the late Count from Lady Shalltear.

“That greasy old fox finally went too far,” Clara’s satisfied sounding voice did not even show a hint of remorse for the man. “You know, after we heard that the Royal Army had been decisively defeated at Katze, we started making bets behind his back about whether the Bloody Emperor would purge him. It’s a good thing that the Sorcerous Kingdom could see him for what he was as well.”

Her friend’s posture had relaxed quite a bit and her tone had reverted to one that was more suited to casual discussion between themselves. The signs of nervousness and fear started to fade from her countenance.

“The man had a shameless ambition well beyond his worth as a noble – the only thing he seemed to be good at was keeping his deeds beyond Lord Rettenmeier’s notice. Did you know he kept approaching us to break off my engagement to your brother so he could marry me to his second son? What happened to House Völkchenheim was House Fassett’s doing as well: that entire family is rotten to the core. I can just picture him walking proudly into the Royal Court to make his ridiculous demands – what I would have paid to be there to watch him get tossed out.”

Clara’s gleeful tone was greatly at odds with her usual gentle demeanor. She must have despised the late Count quite a bit.

“Knowing this is one looming uncertainty dispelled from all of us,” she said. “If the King’s Justice is not just some thin veneer of order, and he truly intends rule of law for the realm, then we as his nobles will be able to carry out our obligations with confidence. Speaking of which, are our old contracts still valid? What happened between you and the Sorcerer King?”

“About that…” Ludmila said, “my title was transferred from His Majesty to Lady Shalltear. I’m no longer a direct vassal of the Sorcerer King.”

“So that’s why she was with you the other day,” Clara said thoughtfully. “It seems awfully kind of her to accompany a new vassal personally like that; I suppose she’s the one that helped you learn so quickly. Still, it’s very strange for this to occur – would you happen to know the reason why?”

“I didn’t even make it to the audience chamber,” Ludmila replied. “I discovered that she had become my liege after the fact, and I ended up chasing her out the door of the Royal Villa. Lady Shalltear didn’t seem to think the reason was something worth sharing with me either. Even in our short time together, I can say that the vassals that accompanied the Sorcerer King to E-Rantel have a very different way of seeing the world. Perhaps, as we adopt their ways, the reason will come to light on its own.”

“Perhaps,” Clara said, “but what about your contract?”

Ludmila frowned. The absence of the very thing that defined the relationship between liege and vassal was something that bothered her to no end. She had been rationalizing her lack of having one being due to the unknowns that accompanied the state of the new realm, but no matter how reasonable the justifications were, it still felt like there was a piece of herself missing.

“I don’t have one yet,” Ludmila replied. “Warden’s Vale is undergoing major changes and the old contract as a Frontier Noble of Re-Estize is most likely obsolete given the strength of His Majesty’s armies. It’s something I’ll have to draft from scratch, and it will probably require several passes before it is acceptable. You will probably have a much easier time writing up your own since your territory is already well established and the expectations should not change much. The one thing I can be almost certain of is that there will be no need for a levy.”

“No Levy?” Clara brightened, “I think it’s been mentioned before, but the last week or so has been one giant blur for me. It’s a relief to hear it from someone that’s been in close contact with a member of the Royal Court. Having the tenants pulled away to fulfil our obligations every year was quite annoying. I’ll ask again to be sure, once I find whoever I need to work with on this.”

“You’ll be taking a look at what the new administration has to offer, then?”

Clara nodded, though her expression still carried a trace of trepidation.

“I’ll head over to the Civil Office later and see what I can learn there,” she said. I’ll take Baron Hamel with me as well – he stopped staying over, insisting that he needed to prove his bravery.”

“That’s cute.”

“Stubborn is more like it,” Clara huffed, “he’s probably just as scared as I am. I’ll drag him out there and make him eat his words.”

Birthright: Act 3, Chapter 15

Chapter 15

After exchanging farewells and leaving Baroness Corelyn’s manor, Ludmila and her lady’s maid walked over to visit Countess Jezne, whose residence was a short distance away. Her butler promptly answered the door: a silver-haired man with a distinguished air who had served House Jezne for as long as she could remember. He led them into the building, guiding them to the courtyard where Vilette Jezne was seated in the shade of a Magnolia tree. Ludmila waited at the edge of the open space.

“Lady Zahradnik,” the butler announced in a clear and dignified voice, “Baroness of Warden’s Vale.”

“You just told me that a minute ago,” Countess Jezne snapped. “What is it?”

Ludmila nearly faltered as the words jabbed at her while she stepped into the courtyard, curtseying before the aged matron of House Jezne. She didn’t think she could ever harden her mental defences against the ornery old woman.

“Good afternoon, Lady Jezne,” she said. “I hope I find you well.”

“I’d be well if not for all these blasted books,” she tapped a gnarled finger on a familiar looking tome on the table set out before her seat. “Whoever wrote these damn things doesn’t care a lick for the elderly. I’ll have gone blind before I finish getting through all of them.”

Ludmila tilted her head to read the spine of one of the books: it was one of the almanacs provided by the administration.

“You have been to the civil office, my lady?” She asked.

“Oh yes. A line of those dried up Undead ogled me all the way to the front desk. I went to ask for a few things and ended up with a pile of this garbage instead,” Countess Jezne huffed. “‘Familiarize myself with the proper procedures’, they said. What tripe.”

Despite her verbal hostility towards the new system, it seemed that she was doing just that. Ludmila spotted a pile of forms neatly filled out on the stone bench beside the Countess.

“Did something happen, my lady?” Ludmila was curious what had driven her to action, “Why the sudden rush?”

“Momon happened,” the aged matron replied. “According to the couriers that started appearing yesterday, that troublemaker popped up in my territory and started wandering around; riling everyone up. Now a man appears every few hours from one or another of my vassals, begging for directions. Everything's a mess. E-Rantel is still asleep and my entire demesne is screaming for goods so they can keep working.”

It seemed that the Adamantite Adventurer was now starting to work the strange magic that she had seen take effect in Corelyn Village in other territories as well. Having her territory come back to life all at once had the Countess working at a frenzied pace, trying to deal with the supply bottleneck it had caused.

“Is this happening everywhere?” Ludmila asked.

“Is Momon more than one person?” Vilette Jezne returned in a snide tone.

Ask a silly question, get a silly answer.

Ludmila decided to deliver her message from Forgemaster Mesmit so the Countess could continue with her work uninterrupted.

“I stopped by to deliver a request from the eastern quarter, my lady,” Ludmila said politely. “Their stores of charcoal are running low.”

“Tell me something that I don’t know,” Countess Jezne rolled her eyes. “It’s obvious that if I don’t send fuel for over a month, they’ll run out, yes?”

“Well, I’m sure they will be relieved that you’re on top of things.”

“On top of things? Hah!”

Ludmila paid her respects once more before leaving the Countess to her duties.

They departed again, returning to the manor to ride the wagon out of the central district. They arrived at the Merchant Guild a couple of hours past noon.

This time, there was a young woman in the uniform of the Merchant Guild working at the reception counter. Her hand slammed down onto a stack of papers that had begun to flutter from the breath of wind that accompanied their opening the doors. She startled herself with the noise she had made and looked up. Rather than beautiful, her face would be more accurately described as handsome: framed in well-defined features that belied her timid reaction. She attempted to blow a loose curl of blonde hair falling over her face out of the way several times before finally giving up and brushing it away with her hand.

“Welcome to the Guild, Baroness Zahradnik.”

The woman bowed, and the curl fell over her face again.

“You know who I am?”

“Of course!” She said brightly, “I recognized you the moment you stepped into the building. Or maybe I felt it? Anyways, you’re exactly as the guildmaster described: even your clothing is the same. Oops.”

The clerk’s hand came up to cover her mouth. Ludmila placed the bill from Mesmit’s Forge on the counter along with her account book. As the woman looked down to scan the invoice, Ludmila looked around the office.

“The man I dealt with a few days ago was the guildmaster?”

“Oh yes, that was him,” the clerk replied as she turned to make her way into the office. “Never missed a day of work as far as I can remember. He’s up in the archives right now doing something. I’ll be right back.”

The way she spoke was reminiscent of the old man’s clipped tone. Ludmila fished up her stamp before the woman returned. The clerk placed her account book on the counter over several additional documents she had come back with.

“Your account balance has been updated, Baroness Zahradnik. These are the applicants that came forward and expressed an interest in your offer of tenancy: their addresses are also included. Is there anything else the Guild can assist you with, my lady?”

“I didn’t get your name…”

“Oh! Apologies, my lady,” the clerk dipped her head. “Edwina Hoffmann. Darian Hoffmann is my grandfather. The guildmaster, I mean.”

“I see. Well, give the guildmaster my regards, Edwina.”

“Yes of course, my lady,” the receptionist bowed at her desk again as Ludmila turned to leave. “Thank you for your patronage.”

Stepping down the stairs of the Merchant Guild, Ludmila looked over the still-empty main plaza of the city. Her eyes were eventually drawn to the cathedral on the opposite end. She had not visited the last time she was in the city, so she thought she should before she returned to Warden’s Vale. She wasn’t sure how the Undead Soul Eater would react to the cathedral – or the cathedral staff to the Undead – so she had it parked a distance away and walked the remainder of the way with Aemilia.

The building was old – it had stood for well over a century – but careful maintenance by the temple staff left it in good condition. Though it was massive, there were no ornate frescoes or fixtures adorning the exterior. Stained-glass windows alternated in the colours representing the Six Great Gods. The entrance to the cathedral was framed with two pillars supporting an overhang that shaded the open doors. A light scent of incense filled the air as they entered the vestibule, and a figure standing in the aisles further inside looked to the shadows silhouetted by the light from the entrance.

Ludmila immediately recognized the man walking up to them and curtsied as he approached.

“I hope the day finds you well, Bishop Austine,” she lowered her head respectfully, and Aemilia followed suit.

Ludmila felt a light touch on her head, and a familiar wave of warmth washed over her.

“Blessings of The Six be upon you, childe.”

The man’s gentle voice was just as warm as the magic that he had bestowed on her. He smiled just as warmly as she raised her head

“Ludmila Zahradnik,” he said. “You are much taller than you were last year.”

“Any taller and I will be scaring away prospective consorts, Your Excellency,” She replied sardonically.

“Consorts?” The Bishop’s face fell, “So your entire family…”

His voice trailed off and he performed a ritual gesture and prayer for the fallen.

“May the merciful Surshana grant them peace. I am so sorry for your loss, Ludmila.”

He leaned forward to embrace her. After a long moment, he pulled away, but his hands remained to grasp her shoulders lightly. He examined her teary eyes before speaking again.

“The times are troubling, but in such times we must hold to faith and do what we can for one another. Is there anything I can do to help you, Baroness?”

“I would ask the same,” Ludmila replied as she wiped her eyes with a handkerchief, “but there are several things that I must report to you first.”

Bishop Austine released his hold on her shoulders and motioned from them to follow him. He led them to his office, which was through a door in the hall running along the side of the building. When they were seated at his carefully organized desk, he leaned forward to hear what she had to say.

“When we received news of what had happened,” Ludmila said, “Priest Bohdan recommended that we evacuate to the Theocracy. It seemed prudent with what we could make out from the details.”

“A reasonable course of action,” he agreed with a slow nod, “especially considering what information must have made it out there. It is a short distance from your demesne to the border of the Theocracy. What was your decision?”

“I agreed with him,” she replied. “I waited as long as I thought was safe, just in case, but in the end I placed the villagers under Bohdan’s care…”

“...and you stayed behind.” Austine finished for her with a tight smile, “I may not have lived as long as the venerable Bohdan, but I know your family well. House Zahradnik has a valiant reputation – which has gotten quite a few members of your family into all sorts of trouble in generations past – I suppose it is inevitable that you would choose to face your challenges as well.”

“Do you think I made the right choice, Your Excellency?”

Bishop Austine leaned back from the desk and rose to his feet. He walked over to another part of the office, lined with large wooden bookshelves that Ludmila understood were filled with the registries of the families that were supplicants of the Temple. He returned with one such registry, which bore the crest of House Zahradnik, opening it in one hand and slowly flipping through the pages. The look on his face suggested that it was not his first time going over the contents: his expression was that of reminiscence, not study.

“You are the scion of a bloodline blessed with both strength and resilience, Ludmila,” the Bishop said. “While this strength may wax and wane over the generations, I should let you know that several men and women from your line have risen to greatness in the past.”

Ludmila tried to hide her confusion. As far as she knew, the only member of House Zahradnik who fit that description was its founder: Andrei Zahradnik, who was an Adamantite-ranked Adventurer. Bishop Austine did not miss her struggling with her expression.

“Most came from the time before Andrei Zahradnik settled in Re-Estize,” he explained. “A few came after: descendants of the family that married off or went to seek their own fortunes and started their own families elsewhere, just as he had. What is even more important, I believe, is how true the members of your family stay to your heritage. No matter how strong or weak, they all display the same stubborn and noble fortitude that has become a hallmark of your House.”

The Bishop closed the book and placed it on the desk. After hearing his words, Ludmila had become extremely curious about the contents of her family register, as what Austine shared with her suggested that the Theocracy knew more about her lineage than her own family had. He still had more to say, however.

“My superiors would probably say that your bloodline is too precious to lose in this realm that has fallen under the rule of an inhuman Sovereign. They may demand that I somehow safely get you to the Theocracy so that they can help it grow further and flourish under their auspices. But, personally, I believe that you are precisely where you need to be – for what is the purpose of cultivating the strength of humanity, if not to be employed in its hour of need?

It is exactly because E-Rantel is in this situation that those of your calibre have the opportunity to shine as an inspiration to the people. Momon might have stayed behind to do just this, but he is ultimately only an Adventurer. You, however, are a noble with all of the influence and authority that comes with your place in society, and it is the nobles that are in the position to do the most for the Humans of this realm. There will be no victory borne from strength here – nothing that raw might can achieve.

Humanity needs its Heroes: but the Heroes that we need here now are the ones that will ensure that our place in this land remains secure. So yes, I think your decision to stay was the right choice.”

The Bishop’s words were reassuring, yet they placed a burden on Ludmila’s shoulders that she did not feel qualified or capable of carrying. She was barely getting started with her own demesne, never mind turning into whatever he envisioned for her future.

“What about the Temple, then?” She asked, “The doors were open – does that mean that you plan on staying, even with the city being ruled by the Undead?”

“The presence or absence of the Undead is not what determines whether there is a need for the Temple. We serve humanity. As long as there are Humans here, so shall we be here for them. Our doors will always be open, even when our children go astray. Besides,” the corner of his mouth turned up in a half-smile, “Re-Estize has always been a secular nation; the Temples here have long learned to work without the privileges enjoyed by those in the Theocracy. While they have not directly approached us for any reason, it is said that the Sorcerous Kingdom has adopted the laws of Re-Estize, so the role that the Temples fill should mostly be unchanged. The ones that have forsaken Alah Alaf and Surshana may have a harder time coming to terms with the state of the realm but we, at least, do not ignorantly turn our faces from the aspects of the world that all Humans must face.”

Ludmila considered the Bishop’s words. His patient and nurturing disposition was what she was accustomed to, as the priests which served the realm were charged with the well-being and growth of the people. It was what she had based her initial optimism on how the faith of The Six might stand to gain from the transition of power to the Sorcerous Kingdom, and it seemed that the Bishop held something of the same outlook as well.

It stood in stark contrast to the vehement accusation spit out at her by the subdued Scripture member. She supposed the difference might lie in the roles that they played – a priest serving a city or village would, by necessity, approach things differently than a warrior whose purpose was far on the other end of the spectrum. As House Zahradnik was sworn not to reveal the existence of the Scriptures or their work, she could not even confer with the Bishop even if she suspected he may know of their movements as well.

“I apologize for my thoughtless words, Your Excellency,” Ludmila said. “I should have known better.”

“It is an understandable worry,” Austine leaned back into his seat. “I imagine many of the citizens would have the same fears.”

“About that…has there been any word about my people in the Theocracy?” Ludmila asked, “Since I know that their homes are safe now, I would like for them to return. I can fund the supplies that they need for the journey back, if that is an issue.”

“I have not heard anything from my superiors since their statement of neutrality months ago,” Bishop Austine answered. “I believe communication will return again when the fears have blown over and trade between nations resumes. I will include your query in my updates on the state of E-Rantel when they can be sent on their way.”

“I see,” Ludmila said. “In that case, I will have a lot of homes available in my demesne for the foreseeable future. If anyone expresses an interest in settling the frontier, please let me know and I will arrange for their immigration.”

“Of course, Baroness – how shall I send word?”

“The Crown has made the guest manors freely available to the Nobles in an effort to help us better acclimate to the changes following the annexation: you may leave a message with my staff there.”

“Very well,” Austine nodded. “Your kind offer of tenancy to the people is a reassuring thing. Thank you, Baroness.”

Birthright: Act 3, Chapter 16

The Temple of the Six

The faith of the Six Great Gods of the Slane Theocracy – or all of Humanity, as their staunchest adherents would have one believe – is a powerful institution steeped in centuries of venerable tradition. With the legacy and bloodlines of their deities firmly within their grasp, agents of their faith are accustomed to dealing from positions of power and authority. Caretakers of their race, they guard Humanity against any and all that stand to threaten it; their agendas enforced far and wide through the strength of arms and magic provided by the elite forces cultivated through a long program of international eugenics: which has produced many of the most powerful individuals in the history of the Human race. Their institutions and temples are a ubiquitous sight across the realms of Humanity, they play a central role in all aspects of life.

Or so they had meant for this reality to be so.

Shortly after the defeat of the Demon Gods, the Theocracy embarked on a great venture to seed the lands wiped clean of undesirable elements with settlers of their own choosing. With one foot firmly planted in the doctrines of the faith and the other in the blessing and support of their fatherland, these Humans spread far and wide to the hopeful expectations of the Theocracy, who interspersed many strong bloodlines amongst them. Not long after, however, the fruit that they had expected to be borne through their efforts turned sour. The intricate web of their influence frayed as distance and time wore away at the bonds between the ancient nation and the nascent Human states subject to its influence. Apostasy eventually became so rampant that a schism manifested, resulting in the majority of the population worshiping only four of The Six in the northern nations of Roble and Re-Estize.

The latter established a secular government, but half of its territory broke away shortly after its founding to give rise to the Baharuth Empire: which retained this political separation from the Temples. Though their operations were adversely affected beyond the borders of the Slane Theocracy, the scattered Temples of the Six Great Gods remained even as the practice of their faith diminished. The approach they established in order to uphold their sacred charge over the Human nations diverged greatly in some aspects from the zealous practices of their home country. They still continue to strive to become a pillar of support for humanity, but the populations that they serve care little for their zeal and their rulers suffer no challenges to their authority.

As the Temples are an administrative organ in addition to a religious one, the work of the priesthood extends not only matters of faith, but also the careful monitoring of the myriad of bloodlines and cultural practices founded through their influence. Fortunately, a few important aspects have remained. Though not explicitly belligerent, Human-centric thinking is still prevalent in every one of these nations and the practice of monogamy is still widely promoted, making the tracing of valuable lineages easier to achieve. Though outwardly perceived as places of worship, every cathedral, temple and shrine is also an office: a part of the vast network of faithful administrators that helps to manage the future of Humanity and ensure its survival in a world of savage and powerful enemies.

Chapter 16

Bishop Austine accompanied them as they made their way out of the Cathedral, the trio stopping at the top of the short set of stairs in front of the door. His gaze followed a patrol of Death Knights crossing the far end of the plaza, their plated footfalls clearly heard all the way from where they stood. Ludmila’s attention was directed to their left, however, to look at one of the nearby buildings.

“What has the Adventurer Guild been doing since the annexation?” She asked.

The Bishop turned his attention away from the Undead to follow her gaze to the nearby guildhall.

“As far as I have seen, not a whole lot,” Bishop Austine told her. “While they have not closed their doors, there are only a few parties of Adventurers going back and forth. It is nothing at all like what it used to be. The Magician Guild appears to be open as well, but the Wood Golems that they used to guard the place are gone – I suspect that they have long transported all of their valuables away to other branches. According to one of our Clerics that paid a visit recently, the Adventurer Guild is in a similar situation. She said that, since the formal transfer of the duchy to the Sorcerer King, new requests have ceased entirely and most of the old ones are gone as well.”

“The source of most of their work is at a standstill, though,” Ludmila said. “The nobility has not exactly been in the position to commission new requests or fund bounties for our territories in the past few weeks, and merchant operations are nearly nonexistent.”

“That may be so,” he replied, “but just having a glimpse of the Sorcerer King’s forces, I have no doubt that the vast majority of what Adventurers normally deal with will no longer be an issue. It has become like the Theocracy, in that sense: they absorbed their local Adventurer Guild branches into the ranks of their forces long ago.”

Ludmila’s discourse with Lady Shalltear in the past few days suggested that this might be the case for the Sorcerous Kingdom, but she still was not sure of the exact details on how national security was handled now. There were requests for military assistance available to be submitted at the civil office, but surely there were a few things that Adventurers would be more suitable for over the Undead. The single-minded and uncommunicative attitudes of the Death Knights and Elder Liches stationed everywhere made it unlikely that they would be ideal for situations that required an unconventional or indirect approach, or one that saw benefit from a Human touch.

“I am sure there are still things that they can do,” Ludmila ventured. “The nobles occasionally hire Adventurers for entertainment, or as diplomatic couriers and escorts. Merchants commission them to find rare or difficult-to-obtain resources and various other things that employ their unique skillsets.”

“I suppose,” Bishop Austine said. “It would require that the Adventurers actually have those specific skillsets, however. The majority are essentially combat specialists.”

Ludmila frowned; there was no easy way around the problem for most. She very much would have liked the Adventurer Guild to continue existing in the city, as House Zahradnik had a long relationship with the organization. That was not something she could do much about though – she had her hands full seeing to her own matters. Turning to say her farewells to Bishop Austine, she returned to where her wagon was awaiting them near the main street crossing the plaza.

Taking her seat, she flipped through the addresses she needed to visit as Aemilia settled in beside her. Her maid had been something of a shadow during the entire visit, ever ready to come to her mistress’ assistance but never a distraction while she spoke with the Bishop. Ludmila’s fingers stopped as she flipped to the page with the ‘strange’ Farmer.

“Luzi,” she asked, “did the others say anything about this weird farmer?”

“Mrs. Ro’eh did not say anything, my lady,” Aemilia replied, “but the Linum sisters said he was ‘creepy’.”

That was not helpful at all – all it did was make Ludmila more apprehensive about meeting him. Looking over the addresses again, she realized that she had no idea where anything was in the city: it was actually Lady Shalltear and the Soul Eater that had done all of the navigation when they had spent the day together wandering around the city. She held out the sheets in front of herself and her maid.

“Which one of these is closest?” Ludmila asked her.

After glancing over the papers, Aemilia pointed to the nearest address. It was the Farmer, of course. With a sigh, she relayed the address to the Soul Eater, and it drove the wagon to its destination. The building they stopped in front of seemed normal enough: it was a narrow structure of four storeys, with sun-bleached wooden stairs running up the side. She thought about having the Death Knight follow her up to the third floor where the man resided but the massive, armoured figure would probably scare the residents witless as it stomped up and down the stairs.

They made her way up and lightly knocked on the door. She heard movement inside and, after a few seconds, it opened by a sliver and a short man with a pale face looked up at her questioningly.

“Moren Boer?” Ludmila kept her voice even.

“Yes?”

His voice did not seem strange at all. The more she thought about his description as being ‘creepy’, however, the more she tried to find abnormal things about his rather normal appearance.

“You expressed interest in the offer of tenancy over in Warden’s Vale?”

“Oh! Yes.”

His voice picked up slightly, and the doorway opened fully. There was really nothing at all strange about the man; he was short and a bit pale, but could have appeared anywhere and not looked out of place.

“Are we leaving now?” He asked, seeming uncertain on how to address her.

It struck Ludmila how odd the fact was for a noble to be personally going around the city picking up new tenants. Migration was usually organized by the temples, guilds or the city offices. Even in those cases, they would simply receive permission to immigrate and head off on their own. She supposed that it couldn’t be helped with E-Rantel in its current state, but at some point she wouldn’t be able to afford the time to see to such things.

“We will be leaving before the evening,” Ludmila said, “so you have some time to prepare. There is a gazebo near the Royal Villa in the central district – that is where we will be gathering.”

“Gathering…?” Moren’s brow furrowed, “Ehm…it should be plenty of time – I’ll be there.”

With that, he softly closed the door. Ludmila felt the entire buildup of tension leading up to their meeting a colossal waste of energy. What was ‘creepy’ about him anyways? Returning to the wagon, she turned to her maid.

“I didn’t see anything wrong with him, did you?”

“No, my lady,” Aemilia shook her head. “He was quite rude to you, though. My apologies for not setting him straight – I was too caught up in the whole thing about him.”

“No harm done, I think,” Ludmila said. “I doubt he realized who he was speaking to…not that I could blame him for not expecting a noble to come straight to his door.”

With the potentially problematic farmer turning out to be rather normal, Ludmila felt that she could get through the remainder in short order.

The next three stops were all woodcutters with young families. Each had a roughly similar set of circumstances: while the Sorcerous Kingdom was supplying provisions to the people, the air of uncertainty still weighed heavily upon them. With the industries inside the city mostly at a standstill, even those that were willing could not find employment, so they had chosen to leave rather than continue to face an unknown future. They all shared the same look of relief on their faces when Ludmila explained why she had come to see them and were issued the same instructions that she had left with Moren Boer.

The smith was all the way out in the military district, which was originally built as a staging area for the Royal Army of Re-Estize during conflicts with the Empire. Outside of these periods, most of it lay empty aside from those who had good reason to be there – usually some business involving the cemetery that occupied the entire western quarter of the district. As they approached the address, they saw a middle-aged man, with streaks of grey through his barely kept brown hair, sitting on a tree stump tinkering with something. A strange sort of cart was parked nearby, and he looked up at the sound of the approaching wagon. Seeing the Soul Eater headed his way, he stood up and backed away warily.

Ludmila stepped down off of the wagon and made her way across the trampled grass. The location indicated by the address was actually a mustering field for training levied men. The soil was rough and uneven, and she could see the imprints of feet in the dried ground where men once stood to practice for their upcoming skirmish. As she came nearer to him she noticed a small tent pitched near the side of the field, under the shade of a nearby building.

“Ostrik Kovalev?” Ludmila read the name written on his form.

“That’s me…” His words came slowly, and his wary stance remained unchanged.

“You responded to the call for a smith in Warden’s Vale?”

“That’s right.”

He straightened his posture, put his work aside and pulled a cloth from his coveralls to wipe his hands.

Ludmila wondered if there was some unwritten law that required all smiths to be gruff and short spoken. She looked over the area around him again. Beyond the tent and the cart, he had dug a fire pit and a clothesline was strung between two poles that had formerly propped up practice targets. Several articles of clothing were being hung out to dry in the afternoon sun.

“Transportation will be available in the central district late this afternoon,” she told him. “Did you have a family you needed to gather before you leave?”

“‘Course not,” he grunted. “A traveling smithy isn’t something you’d want to drag a family around with.”

Though people who traveled to various locales to perform their trade existed, Ludmila had never heard of a smith that actively travelled before. It would certainly explain his accommodations and, by its appearance, she guessed that the strange cart was actually some sort of compact forge.

“If you are a travelling smith,” she said, “then what are you doing here? The city has plenty of forges.”

“I followed the Royal Army into E-Rantel during the winter,” Ostrik explained, “that many men coming in at once and the city gets swamped with work, so my skills are at a premium. Plenty to be made doing even simple things like making horseshoes, nails and fixing odds and ends. Been at it since the Empire started the whole staring contest years ago.”

“But, you can perform the work of a regular smith, yes?”

“Hm? Of course.” He said offhandedly, “This whole setup might not make me look it, but I am a Master Smith. The Guild won’t lie to you about that.”

“Is it better to be a travelling smith than it would be running your own forge in a city somewhere?” Ludmila asked.

“Depends,” he answered. “Maybe if I was up north in Blumrush’s territory working Mithril…but then I wouldn’t get to travel. I made most of my coin doing work for the army for a few months, then I wandered about as I pleased for the rest of the year. Plenty to see and learn by watching how other different masters work in different places. It might not be the most stable thing, but I’m happy with what I gained by doing it.”

“So why didn’t you just leave E-Rantel after what happened?”

“Lost everything in the rout,” the smith made a sour expression. “Well, nearly everything. There was no warning – not enough to tie everything down, at any rate – only a wave of panicked men that bowled everything over. The press of bodies just swept me away from where I set up shop. When I finally got back, most of everything was gone – as scared as they looked, some bastards weren’t so scared that they wouldn’t stop and ransack whatever was in the way. Emptied my tent and flattened it; my horses disappeared too. Only reason why the forge was probably left behind is because it’s too damn heavy for a guy to run off with.”

“That sounds terrible.”

“Oh, it was terrible.”

“Then this will be a temporary arrangement then?” Ludmila asked, “Once you get back on your feet, you will return to your travels?”

“Nah,” he said bitterly, “losing years of your livelihood kind of takes the shine out of an adventure like this. I figured I would just work under some lord somewhere and that’d be it – saw the posting at the Merchant Guild and thought ‘why not’.”

“Well, if it is any consolation,” Ludmila said, “I would gladly have you at Warden’s Vale. I thought I would need to wait much longer before my demesne grew large enough to attract a Master Smith.”

“Your demesne?” He frowned, “Sorry, my lady, I’ve never seen a noble running around like this before; figured you for a higher-up in the lord’s retinue.”

“I had just the same thought when I started doing this today,” Ludmila accepted his apology in good humour. “I do not plan on making it a regular thing, but if something needs to be done, then it needs to be done.”

“Fair enough,” Ostrik said as he started to take down the clothesline. “Better than one of those highlords that can’t even be arsed to tie their own shoes–er, Pardon the language. Do you have a way to move the forge? I don’t see a way to hitch it to your wagon.”

“How much does it weigh?”

“It’s mostly empty of fuel and ore, so ‘round 300 Kilograms. It’s already packed up, so if you have a way…”

The iron gang ploughs that the Death Knights could carry were a bit less than double the weight of the forge but, since it was on a wheeled cart, she figured that a single Death Knight could easily pull it along. She motioned to her footman.

“You shouldn’t have any problems transporting that, yes?” She asked her footman.

It stomped forward, sheathing its flamberge. Lifting the tongue of the cart with its free hand, the Death Knight pulled it free of the shallow rut that secured it. After pulling the forge along for a few metres, it looked to Ludmila and nodded. She mused over how expressive it seemed; maybe it was just restless from doing nothing but following the wagon around all day.

Ostrik shook his head from where he was watching near the tent.

“Who needs a damn horse when you have legendary terrors working for you?” He muttered, “Are you from the Sorcerous Kingdom, my lady?”

“I am formerly a noble of Re-Estize,” Ludmila replied. “My title is a part of the duchy, so I went with it.”

“Well you sure got used to things real quick. Everyone else is still hiding under their beds.”

“It’s not as bad as it seems – not any more, anyways,” Ludmila told him. “The territories are already getting back to work, so the city will soon follow. In the meantime, I intend on pressing every advantage I have: all of my tenants will use the Undead for simple labour, if there is a place for them in their professions.”

“You’re kidding,” Ostrik looked at the Death Knight. “You mean this guy’ll work for me now?”

“No, that’s one of my footmen. I’ve requested a few skeletons that will work for you.”

“I’ve seen people using elementals for work,” he said, “but Undead would be sure to have the neighbors reporting you to the authorities. Well, I’m not sure what I can do with some Skeletons, but I guess we’ll just have to see. I’ll need a few minutes here to finish packing up, if you don’t mind.”

Ostrik turned away and continued to put away his belongings while Ludmila returned to the wagon with Aemilia. It wasn’t long before the smith tossed his bags over the side of the vehicle and pulled himself onto the back. They picked up one of the woodcutters and his family that they came across walking through the city on the way to the central district, dropping them all off at the gardens near the gazebo. Her new tenants gaped wordlessly at the hundreds of Undead arranged on the road nearby. Ludmila looked around until she spotted a cluster of four Skeletons standing apart from the others.

“Luzi,” she said, pointing them out, “take those four and bring them to Mrs. Ro’eh. The staff in the city will practice directing them and evaluate their usefulness while we are away.”

“Yes, my lady.”

Aemilia stepped off of the wagon, and the new tenants gathered nearby watched wide eyed as the maid took command of the Skeletons and led them to the side, awaiting Ludmila.

“We are done here – thank you,” Ludmila said to the Soul Eater. “You may return now.”

They made their way back to the manor as the wagon rumbled away, giving Terah a shock with her new Undead assistants. After Aemilia instructed Terah and the Linum sisters on how to control the Undead labourers, Ludmila spoke.

“I expect you to be well-versed in working with the Undead by the time I return,” she told them. “Any new hires should be instructed on their use as well.”

Birthright: Act 3, Chapter 17

Chapter 17

All of the tenants had gathered by the time Ludmila returned to the gardens from the manor. Nearly all were still gathered a distance away from the formations of Undead labourers. She walked up to stand in front of them and their eyes turned to her. There were sixteen in total: the smith and the farmer; the three woodcutters with their wives and children.

“As you may have noticed,” Ludmila addressed them, “Warden’s Vale will have plenty of the Undead around. The offer you responded to should have said as much but, if you are having second thoughts, you may withdraw – I have no need for tenants who cannot adapt to life on the frontier and embrace the new ways of the Sorcerous Kingdom.”

She wondered what she would do if they all just turned around and left. Fortunately, after a few minutes, none of them did. Their focus turned away from her, however, as Lady Shalltear arrived and riveted all of their gazes to her enthralling beauty. Ludmila came forward to pay her respects to her liege.

“I hope the evening finds you well, Lady Shalltear,” she greeted her.

“Are you all set here?” Lady Shalltear asked.

“We are all assembled, my lady,” Ludmila nodded. “This should have the demesne well on its way.”

“Good. Maybe Albedo will finally stop trying to have us join her in her boredom with some numbers to crunch.”

Lady Shalltear walked a short distance to the gazebo and opened Gate. The column of Undead lined up and marched in. When the last Death Knight pulled the portable forge through, Ludmila motioned for her new tenants to enter. Ostrik stopped just before the Gate before leaping through for some reason – the others similarly stopped to stare at the black portal hanging before them before hesitantly stepping into its threshold.

“Is there any limit to this magic, my lady?” Ludmila asked as the last of the villagers filtered through.

“It drains my mana as long as it continues to be used,” Lady Shalltear yawned as the long procession finally ended. “Just this much is not a problem, though – there are also ways to extend the duration with some assistance.”

“Do we even need roads if we can always rely on this magic?” Ludmila wondered.

“It’s certainly useful if you need to deliver something or transport large groups quickly,” Lady Shalltear told her, “but it’s not necessary for transporting regular cargo. A warehouse or port can only accommodate a certain amount of traffic at any given time; it doesn’t matter if it reaches that capacity through a constant stream of wagons or ships, or through magical transportation. In that sense, it’s an inefficient use of mana – and a liability should I require that mana for something else.”

“I see. You are quite knowledgeable about these things, my lady.”

“I suppose that’s why I’m the Minister of Transportation. I would still like for His Majesty to find more for me to do, though.” Lady Shalltear looked to the western wall, where the sun was beginning to dip below the massive barrier, “It’s about time for yet another meeting, you should get going.”

“Thank you once again for your kindness, my lady,” Ludmila curtsied deeply, “I hope to repay your favour soon.”

“Like I said, all you need to do is–”

Lady Shalltear’s voice cut off. A moment passed before she spoke again.

“Work hard and produce results that will help me gain the regard of His Majesty.”

Her liege’s words carried a hint of ambition that had not been there before, and Ludmila rose with a bright smile.

“Of course, my lady,” she said. “I am at your service.”

After stepping foot on the sandy flats below the entrance to the village, Ludmila looked around as the Gate closed behind her. The Undead had arranged themselves neatly once again while the villagers stood together on the path between the village and the pier. Nonna floated down from the west, and the new migrants shifted away as one.

“How are things out on the fields?” Ludmila asked as the Elder Lich settled down in front of her.

“The work continues,” Nonna replied. “Inventories for spare tools have fallen by 15 percent.”

Ludmila winced.

“How are we losing so many tools?” She asked, “I don’t recall losses like this from previous seasons.”

“Your statement appears to reflect the data collected from Carne,” Nonna nodded. “I have come up with several theories as to why this is.”

“We can discuss them when we’re out there tomorrow,” Ludmila told him. “I need to make sure the tenants are settled before evening falls. We have a smith now to help with repairs, but we need a long term solution that doesn’t constantly tie up skilled labour. I’ll need him for other things soon enough.”

“I concur,” Nonna nodded. “Delays and resources consumed by substandard equipment produces suboptimal results.”

“Do you have any ideas offhand?”

“Since a smith is present,” the Elder Lich stated, “the option of upgrading the equipment may be possible. Orichalcum or Adamantite should suffice.”

Behind them somewhere, Ostrik made a choking sound.

“That’s a joke, right?” Ludmila asked.

Nonna did not provide an answer. How much would a single Adamantite shovel even cost? Was there even enough in the duchy for all of that equipment? Definitely not.

“Have there been any more accidents out in the fields?”

“No.”

“Any new incidents in the village?”

“No.”

“Any sign of trespassers?”

“No.”

Ludmila made a face. She knew it was just the way that Nonna was, but she still preferred a more verbose rapport with her subordinates.

“One more thing before you get back to your work,” Ludmila motioned for the Elder Lich to accompany her as she walked over the new arrivals.

“This is Nonna,” Ludmila said to the villagers after they had turned their attention to Nonna – or rather, they wouldn’t stop staring at her, “if you have any issues with the Undead, please let her know.”

The line of faces all paled in unison when they heard her words.

“I meant issues you encounter as you work with the Undead,” Ludmila reiterated quickly. “Any surprising uses as well. Nonna is evaluating their work around the fief. What you learn here will be used all around the duchy, so it’s something of importance to the entire Sorcerous Kingdom.”

The villagers relaxed somewhat after she waved the Nonna away. She led the group up the road and into the settlement.

“You may choose any of the homes here to settle in with your families. Miss Luzi here has cleaned most of them up,” Ludmila looked towards Aemilia, who nodded. “There is a shrine at the top of the hill to offer your devotions and prayers. Conveniences such as magical faucets do not currently exist here, so water is drawn from the river. If you feel that you are ready, Miss Luzi can also teach you how to direct the Skeleton labourers to help you with various things. Shares of food for the week will be distributed once you’ve all moved in.”

As they dispersed, Ludmila called out to the Farmer.

“Moren Boer.”

“Yes, Baroness?”

“You’ll be moving into the hamlet out in the fields tomorrow morning, so don’t get too attached here.”

“...by myself, my lady?” He asked.

“There will be nearly 600 Undead labourers around you as well,” Ludmila told him. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“Of course, my lady.”

That the short, pale man had so smoothly accepted her words was the first thing Ludmila noted was odd. She couldn’t imagine a regular farm tenant being able to accept such an arrangement so quickly. She watched him as he disappeared into a home nearby, but she did not notice anything amiss.

Ostrik appeared from the home furthest to the west and walked back down towards her.

“That was quick,” Ludmila noted as he approached.

“I’m used to it,” he said. “Wanted to set things up while the light was still good.”

They walked back down to where the portable forge was parked on the flats. She issued orders to the new Undead farming teams and watched them march away before turning back to the smith.

“Do you know where you want to place your forge?”

“Yeah,” Ostrik replied. “Below the place I moved into. The wind comes in from the north, so working there won’t blow fumes over the village.”

Appreciative of such a consideration, Ludmila called the Death Knight pulling the portable forge over to follow them, as well as four Skeletons. The smith went ahead of them, continuing to speak as they walked.

“This is quite the place you got here, Lady Zahradnik,” he kept looking around at their surroundings. “Most of the duchy is farmlands and forests. I didn’t expect a beautiful place nestled at the base of the mountains like this. Wouldn’t mind finding a wife and settling down here.”

“Warden’s Vale was chosen for its natural beauty,” she replied. “Plus it’s defensible. We don’t have much else though.”

“I’ve seen a lot of places,” the smith told her. “This territory is very nicely balanced. As long as you have people here, you’ll be set.”

They stopped at the westernmost point of the lowest village terrace, overlooking the fork in the road which branched west into the fields across the wooden bridge. Ludmila crossed her arms against the wind as she watched Ostrik unpack his forge. Opening the locks, he lifted the hood which covered the cart.

The steel wagon was divided into two sections. One side opened and was pulled out to create a small extension, where he unpacked and placed the two bellows to point into an opening to the other side. The other section appeared to be an enclosed furnace with a bed for fuel and a window which faced them. There was a wood stump, which he rolled out and placed his anvil on. Lastly, he pulled his tools out from inside the furnace with a series of metal hooks, which he hung on the edge of the forge to arrange his equipment on.

“I’ve never seen something like this before,” Ludmila said as Ostrik drove pegs into the ground that were attached to chains securing the forge. “What can you do?”

“Any sort of smaller scale metalworking,” the smith said as he circled his forge. “I can even repair armour and make weapons using this. I’ll be getting things ready to build a real smithy on this part of the terrace here when there isn’t any work to do. Could make a few things if you need ‘em as well, but first I need to start some mounds for charcoal and put together a bloomery. You have materials for everything right here in this valley, so all we need is time and labour – which you seem to have plenty of with all these Undead here. If I can figure them out, that is.”

“Won’t you need iron ore?” Ludmila asked.

Ostrik looked up from his inspection and peered at her strangely.

“Was there a smith here before?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Then you probably have plenty of ore to work with for now.”

Ludmila frowned in confusion. Seeing this, Ostrik continued speaking.

“I’ll show you after I’m done here,” he said. “Need to get together with the woodcutters first if we’re going to get started.”

He returned to his work and seemed to have nothing else to say, so Ludmila turned back to walk down the lane. She looked up and saw several villagers moving about and, as she turned to follow the path up to the next terrace, she came across Aemilia. Her maid was followed by the village women, as well as three girls.

“My Lady,” she nodded: the maid and those following her were all carrying several empty buckets each. “We were just headed down to draw water from the river. There are a few of the men waiting at the warehouse for you.”

The group continued down the way, stopping in front of the remaining Undead that had not been deployed to the fields. Aemilia spoke at length, during which several of the women backed away but, when she finished, the children immediately dashed forward. They handed out their buckets to the awaiting Skeletons and led them off towards the riverbank. Seeing this, the adults hesitantly came forward and led away their own. Ludmila wondered whether the girls had been thrilled at the prospect of having the tiresome work handled by the Undead, or maybe it was the idea that they now had underlings to order around. She initially thought that it would take days for her to convince anyone to start employing the Skeletons, but it seemed that the children were far more flexible than their parents.

The men of the village were waiting in front of the warehouse, accompanied by their sons. They stopped speaking between themselves as they noticed her approach, turning to bow awkwardly.

“All settled?” Ludmila asked.

“Yes. Thank you, Lady Zahradnik,” the men exchanged glances before one of them spoke. “The construction of this village is…different, but the homes are clean and warm and there is plenty of room to expand. When we were gathered in the city, I thought all those Undead you brought would be everywhere, but I can barely see any of them. It’s better than the city – those huge, armoured monsters are everywhere: standing guard and constantly patrolling the streets.”

“This place has more than its fair share of Death Knights,” she explained as she unlocked the warehouse. “All of the Undead will be put to work here – several of them will be assigned to assist you in yours as well.”

“...is that safe, my lady?” He spoke tentatively, “The Unde–”

“You may consider the Undead to be your fellow labourers here,” Ludmila told them. “As was said earlier, I intend for you to become pioneers in what is surely a new reality for everyone here – the same reality that the entire duchy will eventually need to face. You had best become used to it, and apply yourselves well. Your wives and daughters are already discovering how convenient they are; I doubt you will be able to part them from their newfound helpers once they have.”

As if on cue, the line of bucket-wielding Skeletons came up the lane with the group that had come down a short while before, disappearing into their respective homes.

Ludmila entered the warehouse and began to distribute supplies to the villagers. There was only enough for Aemilia and herself for the remainder of the season, which would only last a week between all the new immigrants. She had no worries about the apparent lack of supply, however: the natural abundance around them would amply feed her people with plenty to spare until more regular sources of food were established.

The men returned to their homes with their provisions and Ludmila entered the warehouse again, stretching as she looked around the nearly empty building. Her gaze eventually fell to the corner where she had placed Jeeves’ box. It, too, had disappeared as if it had been inextricably connected to the existence of the Undead ‘butler’. She felt a pang as she continued to stare at the empty corner. He had been so upbeat about his future duties and then his existence had been callously extinguished for being in the wrong place at the wrong time for the wrong reasons.

A shadow fell across the doorway and Ludmila looked up. Nonna had returned, taking her place beside where Jeeves’ box once rested. The warehouse had become a base of operations of sorts for the Elder Lich, and the tome she always carried opened in her withered hand. The scratching of pen on paper went on as she jotted down notes in a strange language that Ludmila had never seen before. She assumed it was the information that Nonna had been sent to collect and assess in her tireless quest for efficiency.

“Do you miss Jeeves at all?” Ludmila asked the Elder Lich.

The sound of writing continued; Nonna did not care to answer. Ludmila pressed on however, determined to find out once and for all how the Undead felt about the loss of one of their own.

“He was Undead as well, wasn’t he?” Ludmila said, “He was so happy with his work here. Don’t you think what happened was terrible?”

Nonna’s pen continued across the paper, but her voice rose up to answer Ludmila’s question as the Elder Lich continued her work.

“There are fates that are worse than the one that he met; there are worse fates than death.”

“What could be worse than death?” Ludmila scowled a bit, “As long as you continue to exist, you have the future to look forward to and new experiences and opportunities will inevitably present themselves.”

The Elder Lich stopped writing and looked up at her. Nonna’s glowing crimson gaze examined Ludmila as they stood across from one another in the shadows of the warehouse.

“To be abandoned by your Masters,” Nonna finally said. “Left without explanation or even a single word. You will never know why they left, or where they even went and you will never see them again. Only left to wonder why – was it something you did? Did they tire of you? Were you inadequate in some way? You will stand alone: without guidance or purpose, as you watch the endless eons ebb and flow until – even as you have pondered these same thoughts for an eternity – existence itself crumbles into dust.”

Ludmila stood aghast at Nonna’s words. It was an incomprehensible fate, yet the words twisted into her soul like an icy blade spreading cold tendrils of helpless despair throughout her being.

“There are worse fates than death,” Nonna repeated herself. “Jeeves met his end in the service of his master: it is an enviable thing.”

Birthright: Act 3, Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Nonna’s haunting words followed Ludmila into bed, causing her to rest fitfully through the night. They were still on her mind when she stirred the next morning. Her attaché’s uncharacteristic outpouring of words had made her ponder all of the experiences she had with the servants of the Sorcerer King so far. Even the words of Lady Shalltear, who was both zealously dedicated and reverent in her service to her liege, seemed to express the same tone from time to time. When she reviewed her memories with the context provided by the Elder Lich, Ludmila could almost sense the shadows of that same creeping doom from some of their discussions. A desperate prayer composed of unflinching service and unbending loyalty, in hopes that an unfathomable fate would be kept at bay.

No one desired to be cast aside. No one enjoyed being unappreciated. But, in Ludmila’s mind, as long as one’s life lay ahead of them there would always be new opportunities and purpose to grasp in the future. Even as a noble who came from a house which had always faithfully served their liege, she felt that she could never fully understand the full depth of what Nonna had described. The dark cloud of her thoughts followed her even as she prepared for the day and Aemilia hovered around her nervously, sensing her mistress’ troubled mood.

“Is something the matter, my lady?” She asked worriedly as she helped tie up Ludmila’s hair.

Looking at Aemilia in the reflection of her small mirror, Ludmila asked a question.

“Do servants live for their masters?”

“Well of course they do, my lady,” her maid replied matter-of-factly.

Aemilia finished with Ludmila’s hair and reached for the mantle draped over a stool nearby. Her hands slowed as she inspected the treated cloth for blemishes and debris.

“To an extent…or perhaps it would be better to be described in degrees? It depends on what sort of servant they are, and the relationship that they have with their master.” Her hands started to move again as she helped to fasten the heavy mantle around her mistress’ shoulders, “Even as a lady’s maid, I suppose that one day I will want to have a family of my own, and my loyalties would be divided after I do. Not in any sort of improper way, of course.”

That sounded about right. A very normal response for a Human servant – far removed from the unfathomable doom described by the Elder Lich.

“I guess there really are some irreconcilable differences between us and His Majesty’s servants,” she murmured.

“My lady?”

“Make sure to give your Undead assistants lots of work to do,” she replied. “They’ll probably be happier that way.”

Ludmila rose from her seat with a slight smile at her maid’s befuddled expression and headed out the door. It was still early, and the morning mist lay thick across the floor of the valley. The villagers appeared to still be getting ready for their day, so she decided to wander around for a bit. The ring of hammer on anvil drew her to the western edge of the village. Ostrik was already at work – or at least it looked like he was working. His forge was lit and there was a dark bar of metal being heated within.

“Mornin’ Lady Zahradnik,” he greeted her as she approached. “You expecting a fight?”

Ludmila was wearing the gambeson she had purchased from the city, the rest of her armour and weapons were still in the manor, but she planned on picking them up before leaving.

“Good morning, Mr. Kovalev," she replied. “I’ll be spending some time in the woods today: you never know what might pop up – even inside of our borders. Did you still need to speak with any of them before we leave?”

“Nah, spoke to ‘em yesterday. They know what I need.”

“What did you need?” Ludmila was curious.

“Once I’m done with this new file here, I’ll be almost out of fuel,” he explained. “We’ll be building mounds to make charcoal with the wood that’s harvested.”

“Will any kind of wood do?”

“Yep,” Ostrik nodded, “there’s no need to be picky about it for now – I just need to keep things going here. Anything that’s worth more as lumber or whatever you’ll probably be better selling off as is. Once I’m done here, I’ll start looking around for ore while the woodcutters do their thing.”

“You mentioned that yesterday,” Ludmila said. “Just where exactly do you plan on looking?”

The smith extended his hand northwards, pointing out towards the flooded plain.

“That’s a marsh,” she stated flatly.

“Yes, my lady,” he agreed with her description. “If you haven’t had a smith here since ever, there’s probably enough iron ore out there to help build a small city. Or equip an army. Well, if you’ve never seen it before you can come back later and I’ll probably have collected quite a bit by then.”

“Well, now you really have me curious. Would you like to test out some of the Undead labourers while you’re at it? I can send a handful your way.”

“Seeing that I wasn’t eaten in my sleep,” Ostrik said. “I suppose I could give it a shot. How does it work?”

“You tell them what to do, and they’ll try to do it.”

“That’s it?” Ostrik furrowed his brow.

“A better way to put it,” Ludmila said, “is that they understand what you want them to do when you order them around rather than follow your words exactly. If you do something like ask them to learn by watching you, or tell them to do things that you have no idea about yourself, it won’t work. This means that your own expertise is crucial when directing them. Just don’t expect to be putting your feet up as they forge equipment on their own – the Skeletons are only capable of straightforward tasks.”

“What happens if I order them to do something too difficult?”

“They just do not do anything,” Ludmila said. “Miss Luzi was able to get them to do all sorts of menial chores; you should be able to figure out what they can do when it comes to tasks revolving around your own work.”

“Huh,” he grunted. “Well send ‘em on over then. I’ll see what I can do with ‘em, my lady.”

The smith returned to his work, and Ludmila turned back in the direction from which she had come. A smile appeared on her face as the village girls came down the hill with Skeletons in tow to fetch more water. A few of their brothers were doggedly following them, begging for a turn to command their new Undead helpers. It was truly a novel sight – one that she would have never dreamed of seeing just a couple of weeks ago. She followed behind the raucous group of children until she reached the flats where the remaining Undead still waited from the previous evening. She instructed four Skeletons to head over to help the smith, then sent half of the Bone Vultures to deliver the wood which was probably piling up from clearing the fields to a spot outside the village.

Recalling Ostrik’s words, Ludmila walked over to the edge of the marshes nearby. Looking down, she could see the various plants that were harvested by the village in the past. She could identify the different types of terrain and vegetation that marked different depths of water, as well as the paths that would safely lead through the flooded lands. She definitely did not see anything that she thought resembled iron ore. Several geese came over hopefully, but were disappointed when she turned away without feeding them anything. In doing so, her eyes fell upon the harbour to the east, where the Knarr was moored with its crew.

Nonna’s words had made her a bit paranoid about making sure all of her Undead had some work to do, lest they spiral into some sort of suicidal depression. Perhaps she was thinking too much about it, but she still wondered if there was anything useful for the crew to do when the ship was not transporting anything. She looked down from the pier and the crew looked back up at her. After seeing so many Skeletons, she felt that the ones in the ship were noticeably stronger than the regular labourers; their equipment was different from the simple round shields and spears of the others as well. Instead, they had round metal shields and long scimitars as sidearms.

Looking over at the captain, she came upon an idea, heading back up into the village again. After ten minutes, she returned with a fishing net and a small basket. Since it was armed with many throwing weapons, she thought it should be able to cast a net as well. The captain gave her a look as she handed the net over.

“Take the ship out on the river and use this net to catch fish,” Ludmila instructed. “You may use the whole length of the vale, so take the opportunity to practice maneuvering the ship as well. Keep anything edible around the length of my forearm. When the basket is full, return to the harbour and drop it off in the warehouse.”

The crew cast off immediately once she stepped back onto the pier – at least it was something, and the crew did not appear to balk at the task. Hopefully, the fish she had brought to mind when issuing the instructions would be what ended up in the basket when she returned. Back at the village, Ludmila found the woodcutters standing about with their sons. Moren was standing with his things piled about him, looking down the way towards her.

“Ready for work, Lady Zahradnik,” the same man that had spoken for the group before announced as she walked up to them, “provided that there are tools. We checked the warehouse and there wasn’t much.”

“Everything is out in the hamlet,” she explained. “You will be starting just across the bridge and working your way there though. Your equipment will be delivered to you. Mr. Kovalev said that he spoke to you about a few things that he needs?”

“Yes, my lady,” he nodded, “we’ll be marking the cheap timber for charcoal. The rest will be sorted out according to value.”

“That sounds good. I will be stopping by the manor for a bit. Head down and pick up four Skeletons each while you wait.”

She walked past them without waiting for a reply, assuming that the boys from before would lead the charge down to pick up their new underlings. It didn’t take long before she heard their excited shouts coming from below, oblivious to their fathers’ misgivings. Did this count as using one’s children against them?

Aemilia was speaking to the village women near the manor, and they all turned to greet her when she tried to walk around them.

“My lady,” Aemilia said, “I was just going over a few things with the women. Will you be headed out to the fields now?”

“Yes, I will be out getting the men started out there,” Ludmila stopped to speak to them, “they will be helping to clear the fields before we actually get to the forest beyond the hamlet, so they won’t need to use it as a base to work out of until then.”

“Good,” one of the women let out a derisive noise, “they’ve been lazing about, surviving on handouts for weeks: it’s about time they did something. Speaking of which, what you have here is much better than the barley we’ve been having recently. You’re gonna spoil us rotten with the mannagrass alone. Miss Luzi says that all the geese here are yours as well: does that mean we’ll have plenty of fresh eggs and poultry?”

“The eggs you’ll have to personally head out for,” Ludmila told the woman, “until we have people specifically managing the flocks. We also occasionally do have poultry to keep the numbers down. Warden’s Vale is surrounded by the bounty of nature so, while I cannot say we can match all of the amenities that a city provides, the food is much better here. You should still be appreciative of the new administration’s efforts to keep the city fed, however. Lady Shalltear has been working every day, delivering supplies to sustain the people of E-Rantel – she is my liege as well.”

“O-of course, my lady,” the woman stammered. “I meant no offence.”

“As long as you understand that His Majesty’s generosity is not to be spurned,” Ludmila said to the group. “Our lives will all be transformed for the better, in due time.”

She didn’t want to leave the women on what she felt was a sour note, so she turned to Aemilia.

“The Undead should have freed up quite a few spare hours,” she glanced over the assembled tenants. “Is there anything else that the village needs?”

“Yes, my lady,” Aemilia replied. “The homes have a few basic furnishings, so we would like to start weaving mats and coverings and such to make things more comfortable. The warehouse didn’t have anything that I could see – was there something the village used from around here?”

“There are stands of rushes all over the place that you may use,” Ludmila replied.

“The villagers used rushes, you say?” Aemilia looked over at the vast carpet of plants in the marsh.

“Yes,” Ludmila replied. “I’ve only watched them at work, but they were able to draw fibres from the plants. After processing, they were able to make different sorts of cloth for pretty much everything. You should have seen a few examples of it around the village while you were out cleaning the other day.”

Aemilia gave her response some thought before answering.

“I’ll have some samples brought in, my lady,” she said. “I should be able to figure it out – I’m a weaver’s daughter, after all.”

“You can start by trimming down all the plants along the shores surrounding the hill,” Ludmila instructed them. “About knee-length is fine if you don’t plan on using them. You can send your leftovers and refuse to Mr. Kovalev: he seems to know all sorts of things, so he may be able to figure out a use for it. Make sure the shores are trimmed down over the next few weeks, though – I’d rather not have any more would-be heroes popping out to save us again.”

Birthright: Act 3, Chapter 19

Chapter 19

After deliberating for a few minutes, Ludmila decided to only bring a portion of her equipment along, fastening the hatchet to her hip beside her dagger; fastening her bracers and pulling on her gauntlets before grabbing her spear. With as many Undead as there were with the ongoing evaluations, she highly doubted there would be any Demihumans or monsters brave enough to stick their noses into the fields to cause trouble. Wild animals were generally even more timid, and all of the Undead activity would also keep them at bay. On her way out of the village, she saw that the woodcutters had sorted themselves out. One of them ran his gaze over her armament as she approached them.

“Why the weapons, my lady?” He asked nervously.

“Things may look nice and peaceful right now,” Ludmila smiled, “but this is still the frontier. Demihumans, monsters and everything else should be smart enough to stay away with all of the Undead around, but one can never be too sure. You’ll be working to clear up fallow land around the hamlet nearby for the next week or so. The Undead watching the area will have a clear view of your surroundings, so you should be safe: just run to the nearest Death Knight in the event that something scary comes along. I’ll be headed into the woods for something else after I get you all started.”

Ludmila rounded up the unclaimed Undead and led her hodgepodge of tenants and labourers across the bridge to the beginning of the fields. Being the closest to the harbour village they had seen the least neglect, yet still had new shrubs and trees intermittently sprouting up from where rows of grain were to be planted. She stopped on the road and turned around to address the woodcutters.

“All of these terraces, including the portions of the windbreaks encroaching on the fields, need to be cleared so they can be prepared for planting. There are teams of Undead working their way out from the hamlet that you’ll eventually come across, so all I need for the time being are the stands of trees removed and the timber sorted out for transport to the village – the teams of Undead labourers will take care of the rest.

The Death Knights that I leave with you will help as well – if there’s anything that requires heavy labour, such as stubborn stumps or roots, they should be able to take care of it. They’ll also be taking turns transporting timber to the village as it becomes available, so let them know how you’re going to be organizing our inventories down on the flats. There will always be one standing guard nearby, but pay attention to your surroundings once in a while just in case something comes along.”

The Bone Vultures she had sent ahead of them were already arriving to deliver the axes, picks and shovels that she thought they would need. The men took the equipment, fanning out into the fields, and Ludmila continued on her way. A few of the Undead flew overhead every few minutes, following her instructions to deliver pieces of wood removed from the fields to the smith. There was a veritable wall of debris running along the road that stood higher than her waist and three times as wide from all the clearing that had been done so far.

The original team of Undead had cleared the third field and was now working on a fourth, while the two sets of Death Knights working the ploughs were working through the second field. She stopped them as they passed by to see what their blistering pace had done to the equipment. In addition to the damage from their first run, more had accumulated besides. It clearly would not survive at this rate.

Ludmila instructed them to continue their work at half the speed. Until she could get her hands on something more durable, she didn’t want to deal with the delays involved in the replacement of something that could currently only be purchased in the city – if there were even any left. Walking a short distance further, she stopped where Nonna was watching over a second team of Skeletons working to clear a field on the other side of the road.

“What are you doing here?” Ludmila asked.

“Collecting data for a control sample,” the Elder Lich did not turn from her observations.

“What does that mean?”

“It is a baseline used to compare sets of experimental results to. In this case, I am collecting information to be compared to Undead teams commanded by you, and the group that will be controlled by this new Farmer.”

“I see,” Ludmila said. “Then I suppose I should leave you to your work.”

“Yes.”

“Actually, one thing: how long did the plough teams take to finish the first field?”

“Roughly 26 hours,” Nonna replied. “The measurements of the fields are imprecise; there was some overlap in the work.”

At their former rate, it meant that the two teams were ploughing roughly 9.5 acres per hour. It was an order of magnitude more than what a team of draft animals using the same equipment could achieve, not factoring in that the Undead were untiring and could work day and night. She figured that, even at half speed, the Undead she had initially requested would have only taken roughly a month and a half between clearing, ploughing, sowing and harrowing. There was still enough time to achieve two harvests this year, and something that could easily be accomplished if the preparations for the first sowing had been done in the winter. Of course, with four times the labour, it should be done in a little over a week. Ludmila still couldn’t quite believe it though – even as it started to play out before her eyes.

The two remaining teams of Undead for the farms had ordered themselves along the road going through the centre of the hamlet. She allowed Moren Boer time to pick one of the abandoned buildings to move into and took one of the groups of Undead awaiting instructions to get them started on their work. When she returned, the short farmer was standing over the well, looking down into it.

“Is there water?” Ludmila asked, realizing she hadn’t checked.

“Yes...I can see the sky’s reflection from below.” He answered as he straightened himself.

“The last group of Undead here will be under your direction,” she walked over to where they were waiting. “The other tenants seem to be able to handle four without much difficulty, but I’ve heard that excessive numbers can result in various problems. As you’ve probably heard me explain to the others, these skeletal labourers will carry out your instructions as you envision them but they cannot carry out tasks that are too complex. They will continue with their orders until they complete them or are instructed to do otherwise, so you may be able to manage them by assigning them to tasks that take long spans of time or may be repeated many times. I’m rather new at this myself, so as a Farmer, you may be able to achieve superior results with your expertise.”

Moren walked over to the formation of Undead, slowly examining them row by row. He gave an experimental order, and a group of four of them stepped forward. He tried again with the same results, looking over sheepishly at Ludmila.

“It seems four is my limit,” he said apologetically.

“Try what I mentioned earlier,” she suggested. “Set those four on their task and come back for more.”

As he moved to follow her advice, Ludmila headed over to the barn. The Undead Vultures that she had set as sentries were still watching over the building, and she spotted several dead rodents in front of the door. Just inside, there was a pile of broken tools and she used her foot to sift through the damage. There were a few broken hafts, but most of it appeared to be damage to the iron itself caused by their indiscriminate use by the tireless Undead.

She instructed several of the Undead that had followed from the village to load the pieces onto the nearest cart: she would take them on her way back to the village to see if they could be repaired. Nonna had reported that 15 percent of the equipment had failed, and they had completed ploughing roughly the same percentage of the fields so, even if Ostrik couldn’t effect proper repairs, they should still be able to complete the work with all of the equipment that the new teams had brought with them.

Moren had finished setting half of his team to tasl by the time Ludmila finished looking through the barn. She walked out to the field he was working on, and found that the Undead that had started clearing it were working slower than the ones that she commanded. Was it because of her ability? Or was it because Moren was still new at directing the Undead? The Farmer returned with the next group – his instructions seemed shaky, but he seemed to understand what needed to be done. She didn’t think one’s confidence would affect the results of their directions, but that was only a hunch.

He blew out a heavy sigh as he set the last group to work. Going back and forth between his Undead labourers, he would pause to issue corrections frequently. Maybe there was another reason for his slower pace.

“How often do farming tools break?” Ludmila asked him as he continued with his task.

“Ones like these?” Moren replied, “Hmm…they should last a year or two, at least. Longer, if you’re careful and take good care of them.”

A year or two? She was losing them at a far greater rate than that.

“Nonna told me that I’ve lost fifteen percent of my tools in the past day alone,” Ludmila said. “Do you have any idea why this might be the case?”

“They shouldn’t be breaking that often,” Moren said. “If the tools are from the same place…well, who gave the instructions for them?”

“That would be me,” Ludmila replied.

She looked over to the remaining Undead awaiting orders and commanded them to start clearing. Unlike Moren Boer, who could only direct four at a time, the entire group went to work immediately. The Farmer frowned.

“Is there a trick to that?” He asked.

“I’m not too sure, myself,” Ludmila answered. “You’re the first Human I’ve had to compare to, but it already appears that there are a few notable differences between us.”

“That might be just a bit of an understatement…” Moren chuckled, “Does that mean the other Undead out in the fields are also following your instructions?”

“Aside from the group being controlled by Nonna, yes.”

“Well…nobles are used to ordering around lots of people,” Moren mused, “maybe it doesn’t matter what they are.”

Lady Shalltear’s words to her about the differences in vocations and ‘classes’ came to Ludmila’s mind. When she had first heard them, extraordinary skills and feats filled her mind…but even things that she considered mundane appeared to be affected as well. If that was the case, she would have to consider things more carefully than she had initially thought she needed to.

“My Skeletons seem to be acting out their orders in a different way than yours are,” Ludmila said. “Could you take a look at them and tell me what you think?”

Moren walked over to where her Skeletons were clearing the field. It wasn’t long until he looked back up towards her.

“I think I know why your tools are breaking, at least,” he said.

Ludmila came over to join him, but she couldn’t see anything wrong with what the Skeletons were doing.

“Why is that?” She asked.

Moren looked at her strangely for a moment before his face lit up in comprehension.

“A few years back,” he told her, “we had some Adventurers come by our village for a job – Platinum rank ones. They used the village as a base for their work for about a week or so, and one of them got curious about our work. Eventually he joined some of us working out in the fields, wanting to try his hand at the whole ‘farming thing’. The man was strong and fast, but in the end what he was doing was basically the same as what these Skeletons were doing. We had to politely convince him to stop before he started damaging our property too much.”

“What was he doing wrong?”

“Well, rather than doing something wrong, he just didn’t know how to do it properly,” Moren glanced at the spear in her hand. “I guess it might be easier to use weapons as an example, since you’re a Frontier Noble? A regular guy will look at a spear and think that sticking someone with the pointy end is all there is to it. Then you watch someone who knows what they are doing and it looks anything but. Just like a spear is a tool for fighting, you have tools for everything else. If you haven’t learned the trade, then all you might think is that a blacksmith is banging metal with a hammer, a teamster is just riding along with their wagon, or a farmer is just digging holes or cutting grass. Sure, you might get the job done in the end doing what you’re doing, but there’s always a better way to do it.”

Ludmila was already feeling embarrassed halfway through his explanation. Especially considering it was her own explanation, just delivered in a more specific context. The work of Undead labourers relied on the expertise of their director: a Farmer would obviously know how to do their job better than she would, and thus be better at directing Undead labour used for farming.. Even as she was making requests for various professions to migrate to Warden’s Vale, she only knew how things roughly fit together through her upbringing – she didn’t have an intricate understanding of how each piece of the puzzle worked.

“Er…I meant no offense, my lady,” Moren started to back away. “My mouth just ran off with me.”

“No, it’s alright,” Ludmila cleared her throat. “I’m just a bit embarrassed over how I’ve instructed you on how to direct the Undead, yet somehow the meaning of what I’ve said hasn’t sunk in for myself. You’re grasping these new tasks quite rapidly – when I first put up the posting asking for people willing to immigrate to my demesne, I didn’t think anyone would take to their work this quickly.”

Moren let out a shaky laugh at her words.

“A part of me thinks this is still some sort of dream,” he said. “I wasn’t sure what would happen.”

“Are you going to be alright all alone here?” Ludmila asked, “There will be more tenants coming in eventually, but you’re all that there is here until I make my next trip to E-Rantel at least. Being surrounded by so many Undead must feel unsettling for someone unaccustomed to it.”

“I don’t mind,” he said. “I find the Undead quite fascinating, actually.”

Ludmila looked at him sharply. That was definitely not something someone would normally say. Perhaps she could finally discover the root of the unease that he had generated in her maids.

“I think you should explain what you mean by that.”

Moren’s expression changed as he realized what he had confessed in his idle chatter. His mouth opened and closed several times before he settled on what to say.

“When I was younger, I had a…phase, of sorts,” he said nervously. “I took an interest in the Undead for some reason – they were something dark and mysterious that was far beyond my dreary life at my family’s farm. I got deeper and deeper into it until I fell in with a group of shady folks in the nearby town. I did things here and there for them: cleaning and other chores; delivering messages and such. They taught me a little bit of magic in exchange. I was too much of a coward to learn any Necromancy, though. I was raised under the ways of the Four Great Gods, and there was always that little voice tugging at my conscience that kept me from learning anything more than a few basic spells. I just grew out of it after that, but there’s still a part of me that finds their work interesting.”

“So you’re a mage, then?” Ludmila asked.

“Of a sort,” Moren answered. “Didn’t save me from the levy, though. The lord’s men came through and I got swept away alongside a bunch of other people from my home village. They marched us off the E-Rantel, where I got a spear stuck in my hand and a sergeant that hated everyone unconditionally. I barely survived Katze.”

Now that he mentioned it, his unstable presentation and pale look did resemble some of the survivors that returned to Warden’s Vale after the battle. Ludmila felt bad for him and for the disparaging comments that had been made by her household. The idea that he had fallen in with a group of Necromancers still made her wary, though. Such practices were taboo in Re-Estize out of concerns that the practice might lead to the rise of more Undead. It was an ultimately superficial sentiment, however, given the current state of the Kingdom’s former territory. As a noble commanding hundreds of the Undead; serving an Undead vassal of an Undead King, she made his past activities seem a pittance in comparison.

“But you still made it out alive,” Ludmila said. “Why didn’t you return to your family?”

“I came from the heartlands – a village under a Baron on the other side of Pespea’s territory. With the army shattered, it was every man for himself. A lot of the territories along the way home aren’t as well-managed as the ones in E-Rantel, and even this duchy had the signs of various problems that I could see on the way in. Many of the nobles don’t care or can’t afford to keep their lands secure. Even worse are the ones that are in league with the thugs and bandits that run amok in their lands. It was safe enough to come in with the Royal Army, but unless you’re able to pay for their ‘tolls’ or have an armed escort like the merchants do, you’re more than likely to end up dead or a slave if you try to travel alone. Knowing that, I decided to take my chances staying in the city.”

Ludmila’s eyes narrowed as he spoke. She was appalled at the idea that any noble could willingly suffer those conditions in their demesne; she was equally appalled by the idea that their own respective lieges could even allow it to happen. It was a clear breach of noble contract in Re-Estize to allow such lawlessness, never mind participate in it – how was it that such nobles were not immediately sanctioned or even stripped of their titles so they could be managed by more capable lords?

The lord of a fief governed autonomously, but that autonomy came with obligations to both land and liege. The story of the Linum sisters floated out of her memory: she had been unwilling to believe that such a thing could have happened, but if the rest of Re-Estize had places where these practices had become commonplace, then perhaps the Duchy of E-Rantel had been influenced by it to some degree as well.

“Anyways,” Moren continued, rubbing his arm in a nervous-looking manner. “I came across your posting the other day and thought that I fit your requirements in a strangely fateful way. I was a Farmer, and I wasn’t scared of the Undead. I thought maybe I could put everything I had learned to good work for the lord here – maybe learning some Necromancy would be useful?”

Ludmila had no immediate answer to his question as she had no experience with it. Considering their new reality, it was a certainty that the laws and customs surrounding the practice of Necromancy would be changed. It didn’t guarantee that one could do whatever they wanted, however…there should be regulations concerning its use, but such regulations would need to be laid out by those who were experts in its applications.

“Do you think there are more groups around like the one you fell in with?” Ludmila asked.

“Oh, I have no doubt about that,” Moren said. “In fact, I heard there was some incident in E-Rantel where some crazy fellows tried to do something in the cemetery. They were stopped by Adventurers, but where there’s one, there’s probably more – there were a few in this case.”

Moren stopped speaking to correct some errors in what the Skeletons were doing that Ludmila still could not discern. After observing their work for a minute, he returned to speak to her.

“Even if there aren’t,” he said, “word will spread about a nation that openly uses the Undead, ruled by a powerful Undead King. It will draw them like ants to honey.”

Ludmila frowned. That the Sorcerous Kingdom would become a popular destination for crazy Necromancers was definitely not something that had ever crossed her mind. She hoped she could deal with it when the time came.

Birthright: Act 3, Chapter 20

Chapter 20

Leaving Moren to his work, Ludmila left the hamlet with her questions for the man having led to dozens of other questions. She made her way northwest along the old road, at the forefront of a group of Undead, pondering new perspectives and information; trying to apply it in ways that might work with her current knowledge and rethinking how she would go about laying the foundations of her demesne.

After roughly half an hour, she came to the thickly forested slopes of the valley beyond the fields, where the road disappeared into the undergrowth. It had finally come time to test out some of her own ideas. After Lady Shalltear's presentation of the various types of Undead available for lease, Ludmila had requested a group of Undead Beasts in the form of boars with the idea that they, like the wild boars that lived out in the wilderness, could sniff out roots, mushrooms and the many other edible fruits and plants from the forest.

As she picked her way through the woods, she came across a cluster of broad white fungus that was favoured in the village’s ubiquitous stew growing out of a tree trunk. After a few minutes puzzling over how exactly she could issue the instructions, she sent the Undead boars out into the forest. Ludmila watched with some alarm as they immediately sprung into action, crashing noisily through the woods.

She caught up to the first Undead Beast, which had stopped several hundred metres away: it had found some mushrooms, but besides looking vaguely similar to the ones she sent it out to look for, they were deadly if eaten. Out of the first set of Undead she had sent out, only one had found what she had instructed them to find.

Ludmila tried improving on her commands with the same group, then sent them out again. This time, none of them were able to locate what they had been sent to find. There were very clearly other patches of the same mushrooms around – she occasionally stopped to put them into a basket as she followed the Undead beasts’ rampage – but they were somehow unable to recognize them, despite their director clearly being able to. What they did do, however, was create an extraordinary amount of damage in their search: bowling over small trees, uprooting medicinal plants and destroying flowering bushes that would have produced summer berries. While they appeared to be like boars, the only quality that these Undead Beasts seemed to convey was the destructive image associated with one.

The first of her ideas not outlined in the materials provided by the administration appeared to be a catastrophic failure; she wondered if it had already been attempted and left out due to the same findings. It would have been nice for them to leave a note of some sort if this was the case.

She descended down the valley towards the flooded marshes, continuing to forage fresh shoots and other spring edibles along the way. Three of the wicker baskets carried by the Skeletons in the group were filled by the time she reached the soggy edges of the floodplain. Ludmila immediately spotted a cluster of broad, arrow-shaped leaves standing out of the water and waded over with a Bone Vulture after pulling off her boots and tucking the hem of her gambeson up into her belt. She couldn’t find a tuber near the base of the plants by feeling around with her toes, so she had to reach into the knee-deep water, feeling around until she came up with an arrowhead tuber which fit in the palm of her hand.

The Arrowhead plants grew all over the valley, and their starchy tubers had become the staple of the village in her generation as the population of the barony dwindled to the point that the farmlands could no longer be properly cultivated. They were similar to the Potatoes that were grown in the Empire, albeit much smaller and, after she had been served the fried strips by Yuri Alpha, she had wanted to see if these could be prepared in a similar manner.

With the tuber in hand she issued directions to the Bone Vulture, which was completely submerged aside from its head and long neck poking out of the water. After sending it out into the marsh, she continued harvesting her own as she awaited the results.

There was not much in the way of recommendations provided by the administration’s materials for marshy terrain, so this was another idea that she had puzzled out for herself. It could be difficult Humans to navigate the deeper parts of the marsh, but a Bone Vulture could get around easily by flying…or so she thought. Looking out across the water, she saw the head of her test subject still poking out above the surface as it slowly waded through the marsh. It wasn’t until it found a sandbar which was shallow enough for it to raise most of its body above water that it shook itself dry and rose into the air. Well, at least as the water levels receded, their mobility would improve.

She directed more Bone Vultures, each sent out to harvest a different type of plant and, as they either succeeded or failed in their tasks, Ludmila developed a loose understanding as to what would work and what would not. For the Bone Vultures, if the target of their efforts had very clear and distinguishable characteristics – such as the Arrowhead plants with their large, arrow-shaped leaves standing well above the surface of the water – success was nearly guaranteed. Bulrushes and other reed-like plants they could vaguely recognize by appearance and, since the different plants were all useful for one thing or another, Ludmila also considered those a marginal success.

The more a plant resembled the growth around it, however, the more their success rate approached that of the Undead Beasts in the forest. Sometimes she would receive a bundle of watercress, sometimes she would get a bundle of weeds or a bunch of moss. In several trials, a Bone Vulture would make such a gross misidentification that it returned with what one of the others had been sent to collect instead.

After a couple of hours gauging the results, she decided that they were worth using to harvest only a handful out of the many useful plants that grew in the marsh. If the prices for produce fell too far, she would have to figure out some other worthwhile use for them. Ludmila sent them to collect Arrowhead tubers for the time being in order to increase the dwindling stocks of food in the village. Each Bone Vulture gripped the strap of a shallow basket which could be floated on the water's surface as they landed to find food. When the Human population of her demesne increased, she would have to raise new Rangers to help with foraging activities in both the marsh and the forest.

With one disastrous failure and a sort-of-success, she scaled the slope back up to the farming hamlet with the remaining Undead. She crossed the field Moren was working on first, and the Farmer nodded as she approached.

“How are things going?” Ludmila asked.

“It’s an interesting challenge,” he said, leaning on a stick he had picked up from somewhere. “Since they will continue working with their current orders until they complete them, it makes it possible to control many sets of Skeletons as long as the time it takes for them to work is long enough for you to set new instructions with the others. That number shrinks dramatically if I try to manage more precise tasks, however. Four seems to be the number – at least for me – if the goal is to maintain the same quality of farm work as a Human with each one.”

“Make sure you let Nonna know,” Ludmila told him. “This is just the sort of information she’s looking for.”

The ratio Moren presented meant that roughly 20 farmers would be needed to direct the 80 skeletons working the fields for one hamlet. Accounting for shortfalls in labour due to illness or injury, she thought 25 would be more reasonable. On the other hand, once she was able to bring in a new priest, the problem should be next to nonexistent. While it was still dependent on the actual results, her estimation that a single Farmer could easily provide for their entire household meant that the hamlet would flourish with the abundance, freeing up labour for other industries. It would quickly become a village and a base from which to extend the fields further along the valley, after which she could found a new hamlet that would develop in a similar manner to continue expansion.

With plans for five more farming villages with a similar allotment of land Ludmila became hopeful that, with the solid foundation established by the chain of future settlements, she would be able to transform the harbour village into a town filled with the specialized labour and industries that would be needed to stay ahead of the changes that the Sorcerous Kingdom’s Undead labour would bring to the regional economy. She would certainly have food aplenty – enough grain to feed the entire population of the city of E-Rantel – but more specialized development would take time.

All of the timber harvested by clearing land for the fields could be exported to meet the future demand that Lady Shalltear had spoken of to Gareth Boyce, and the proceeds would be used to help to push the development of the Warden’s Vale. Perhaps she should see to building the mill soon in order to improve the productivity of her demesne. After that, she would need to hire prospectors and other specialists to explore her lands for other resources to develop.

The vision of unprecedented growth filling her head put Ludmila into a good mood, and she hummed happily as she made her way back to the hamlet. As far as her plans for the day went, she would be returning to the village with the broken and damaged equipment while checking on how the woodcutters were doing along the way. Directing a few Skeletons to add the additional damaged tools that had appeared while she was away to the cart with the rest, she then instructed one of the two Death Knights in her escort to pull the vehicle along. As it leaned over to grasp the tongue of the cart, Ludmila had a thought.

“Actually – hold on a bit, I have a different idea.”

She had struggled to think of what to do with the Undead Beasts after finding them unsuitable for what she had intended them for. Churning up the fields for clearing would only be a short term use, and she wanted to find something more permanent. Ludmila motioned for two of the boars to come forward and she secured them to the yoke attached to the tongue of the cart. Sitting in the seat, she ordered them to circle around the well in the centre of the hamlet.

Finding that they were able to accomplish the task without issues, she went to attach two boars to each to the three remaining carts – there were still free Undead Beasts left, but there would be more carts built in time to meet the demands for transport. If they worked for the long term, using Undead Beasts would be much more cost-effective than Soul Eaters for pulling these smaller vehicles.

The small train of carts travelled back eastwards along the road towards the harbour village, stopping periodically for the Death Knights to load a tree stump or other pieces of debris that had been too heavy for the Bone Vultures to deliver. The procession stopped when they neared the end of the fields, and Ludmila hopped off to see how the woodcutters were doing. They came in from their work to gather around her and report their findings.

“We lost four skeletons in all so far, Lady Zahradnik,” the man submitting their report seemed a bit apologetic and more than a little miffed. “Most villagers learn how to play it safe around Skeletons and Zombies that pop up now and then, but it turns out they’re just as mindless when they’re working for you. Each of our groups lost one felling our first tree – they have no sense of self-preservation, so they just stood still to get crushed. Then another one was lost when we forgot to tell it to get out of the way some time later. Four makes it too crowded to work; it’s hard to look out for the other woodcutters and these Skeletons at the same time.”

“How many do you think you can work with, then?” Ludmila memorized his report to relay to Nonna.

“Two to a team, probably. Three if the third is just moving things to and from the site.” He scratched his head through his cap, “Don’t get me wrong – they’re good for what we’re using them for, but if there’s too many running around it will just cause more accidents. It’s dangerous work, hacking down trees is the least of it; we have to prepare and plan ahead to make sure everything goes smoothly.”

“I understand,” Ludmila nodded. “Once the fields have been restored, I plan on clearing stretches of the slope in sections about the same size as the ones here. How many more woodcutters do you think I can bring in before the numbers become a hazard?”

“How wide will the fields be, my lady?” He asked.

“A five kilometre width between the edge of the marsh and the valley slope – about the width you see at the hamlet over there. The fields will follow the old road up to where it leaves the valley.”

“If we’re clearing through in a line, one team every 100 metres should be safe,” he said after some thought. “Well, it also depends how much work you’ll have for us after all this is done. I’d feel bad for the ones that are sent away if there’s no work to be had after.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Ludmila said. “So a team is two Skeletons and…”

“Two men, my lady.”

“Will there be any problems working out of the hamlet?”

The man exchanged glances with the other woodcutters, turning back to her with a shrug.

“If we can take our families with us,” he said. “I don’t see any reason not to – especially since it’ll be saving us a long walk.”

Most of the buildings in the old hamlet were run down. She would need to find tradesmen capable of fixing them up and building new ones if she planned on expanding it into a village. At this rate, the population of the farming settlement would become larger than the harbour village, as it would take more time to attract the advanced industries that she wanted to base out of the future town.

“Were there any other problems?” Ludmila asked.

“Not really, no,” he answered. “With the Undead labour, we get through everything a lot faster and there’s not much of a need for breaks. We haven’t felled any trees worth shipping out as building material yet, but how do you want them moved?”

“Before,” Ludmila said, “our villagers had to divide into lighter sections on site before transporting the timber to the village, but with the Death Knights here, we might be able to keep them whole. Once the field work is done, we can add the plough teams as well. I’m not sure exactly how much they can handle, but it should be quite a lot. You’ll want to put them to the test before deciding what’s safe to transport.”

“That sounds reasonable, my lady,” the man said. “If we get any trees that are too heavy, we’ll cut them lengthwise into sections that they can manage if they team up, unless you want to keep them bigger than what that ship of yours can carry.”

“It should be fine, for now,” Ludmila said. “I believe we’ll be storing the timber on the flats near the harbour. Are there any preparations that you need to make for the stockpile before deliveries start arriving?”

“Uh…yes. We can get that done quickly when we get back this evening.”

“Also, there will be a mill at some point – I would like to start construction as soon as possible if I’m to bring in more woodcutters.”

The man nodded at her words.

“A mill will help you pack more onto that ship of yours and bring in more coin since you’ll be doing a lot of the work sizing the lumber here. The rest I have no idea about – you’ll have to find a carpenter or something to help with construction. We’ll carry on here, my lady. If you can spare them, we could use a couple more Skeletons on standby just in case there are more accidents.”

“Of course,” Ludmila said, “I’ll leave a few of the available ones here on the road for when you need them.”

“Thank you, Lady Zahradnik,” the man said, and the group bowed in an uncoordinated way, “for everything. We’ll be getting back to work, then.”

Birthright: Act 3, Chapter 21

Chapter 21

The two Death Knights in Ludmila’s escort hefted the largest trunk that had been carried over to the side of the road onto their shoulders. It had been trimmed of its branches, but the twelve metre long section of aspen still looked remarkably heavy. She kept looking down at the dirt road as they descended to the valley floor in front of their procession, expecting deep footprints to be left in their wake, though all they left were some shallow imprints in the mostly dry soil. She would need to see about laying stronger roads soon, or the dirt path would become a rugged nightmare with so many heavy loads being transported upon it.

In the distance, several wisps of smoke rose from the village in the distance: they were too voluminous to be cookfires from the homes and there had been no panicked villagers coming up the road to raise the alarm, so she thought it must be Ostrik starting his charcoal production.

With the skies being uncharacteristically clear for the past few days, the waters of the Katze river had receded somewhat. She directed the Death Knights to use the shallow ford that had appeared behind the bridge, not wanting to risk the wooden structure’s collapse. As the carts crossed, she saw that a section of the reeds and grasses growing along the shore nearby had already been cleared away. She didn’t see anyone working below, however – the women of the village must have stopped to prepare the evening meal. Large piles of wood and various pieces of burnable debris had appeared on the hillside, and Bone Vultures flying back and forth from the fields periodically added more to them. The sense that her demesne was slowly coming back to life gave her a feeling of energy that further contributed to her good mood.

After the Death Knights dropped off the log on the sandy flats, Ludmila parked the carts near the piles of wood and had the Undead transfer the contents of the carts to them. Walking up to the village, she found Aemilia standing at the entrance with a moist towel in hand.

“Welcome back, my lady,” her maid lowered her head as she offered the towel for Ludmila to refresh herself with. “Did something happen?”

Ludmila stopped wiping her hands and looked at her maid, puzzled.

“A few things happened…what did you mean?”

Aemilia pointed her finger and Ludmila looked down. Her legs were encrusted in green and brown muck up to the knee.

“Oh...I went into the marsh to see if the Undead could do something.”

“I will prepare a change of clothes, my lady.”

Aemilia’s maintained her even and respectful tone, yet Ludmila felt like she was being scolded for some reason. She retreated to her manor to change before any other flaws with her appearance could be found from the short trek through the nearby valley. After an early supper, she checked on the smith’s progress.

She found Ostrik tending to several large, smouldering mounds near to the woodpiles below where he had set up his forge the previous evening.

“Is this how charcoal is made?” She asked from the side as she watched the lazy trails of smoke travel south over the river.

Ostrik hadn't been paying attention to his surroundings and started, looking up from his work. He scowled for a moment, before he realized who had spoken.

“Yes, Lady Zahradnik,” he said as he rose to face her. “It’ll take about a week before anything comes out of it, though. Normally, you’d build a kiln away from everyone to keep the fumes away, but the wind is so consistent here that this spot will do for now. I’d still recommend building one if you plan on producing charcoal for the long term, though.”

She wasn’t sure that she would. Just glancing over Ostrik’s work, it felt like he was going through a lot of wood. Her own plans currently only extended to clearing enough farmland for five villages, then seeing what she could do about turning the harbour village into a town. The smith turned back to continue tending to the mounds, making holes and filling them in some sort of strange ritual.

“How long will what you have here last you?” Ludmila asked.

“Just this?” He looked around at the mounds: the one nearest to the village was small compared to the others, standing about a metre high and three metres across; the others were much larger, each around twice her height and over ten metres across. “This small one here is to just tide me over until the big ones are done – I might have to get another one started, just to be safe. Once the large ones are finished, I’ll be good with that portable forge until late next spring, probably. The bigger we make the new forge and furnace, the more it’ll burn, obviously...but I can’t say how much until we actually build it.”

Ludmila didn’t have the slightest clue what went into building one – or building anything, really. She thought she might be able to fish out some information from Ostrik, whose travelling lifestyle seemed to have made him quite knowledgeable.

“What will you need before you can start on that?” She asked.

“Carpenters, masons...depends on how fancy you want it made,” the smith answered. “If you want something with all the bells and whistles, you’ll be looking at involving Alchemists and other magical crafters, too. You’re set on materials here already – speaking of which, I brought up some of the ore I was talking about from the marsh.”

Ostrik finished his rounds and led her back up to the forge. The smith had fashioned a long wooden ladder, using it to climb directly up to his workplace. Ludmila looked down at it after scaling up after him.

“Make sure you don’t leave that there.” She warned him.

“Why’s that?”

“We’re on the edge of the wilderness,” Ludmila said. “Attacks can come at any time. The last thing we need is someone conveniently putting out a ladder for invaders to climb.”

“I mean no disrespect, Baroness,” the smith said as he looked to the Death Knight escorts who had crawled up the ladder after her, “but I don’t think you’ll have to worry about that with so many of these Undead here.”

Ludmila did not like his flippant response. As long as she lacked properly trained sentries and patrols to secure the borders again, it was all too easy to sneak into her territory through any number of routes.

“The village was attacked two days ago,” she tried to keep her tone even but couldn’t prevent the edge from entering her voice. “A sole intruder made it to the base of the village completely undetected and killed my warehouse manager.”

Ostrik turned around at her statement with an expression of disbelief. After meeting her gaze for a moment, he lowered his head.

“Apologies, my lady,” he said solemnly. “I forgot myself.”

In the silence that followed, a Skeleton walked by carrying a bucket filled with clay. It passed the two Humans and deposited its load in a pile behind the smith before returning down the path it had come from. It cared little for their interaction, blithely carrying on with its task. Ludmila looked past Ostrik to the pile: there was a short ring of the material fashioned beside it.

“A bloomery,” the smith answered the question on her face. “It’s a simple furnace for smelting iron ore. I’ve been putting it together between checking the charcoal piles.”

Ostrik walked over to a pile of ruddy orange rocks which looked to be as wet as the mud nearby. The pieces were of varying sizes; a few were larger than her head.

“This is the ore I was talking about,” he said somewhat proudly.

“I’ll take your word for it...but it just looks like a rock from the marsh.”

“Well, technically it is a rock from your marsh,” Ostrik replied. “This is called bog iron: it’s easy to extract and easy to find in places like this – when no one’s been harvesting it, the stuff just keeps piling up.”

“Harvest?” Ludmila tilted her head, “Do you mean to say that you can grow iron?”

“Hmm...not in the sense that you can grow crops or raise livestock,” Ostrik looked down at the pile of ore. “An old shaman I met out east just beyond Karnassus tried to explain it to me – something about spirits in the water gathering iron or some such. I don’t know how true that is, as I’ve never seen anything that looks like a spirit or a fairy or whatever while picking this stuff up. What is true is that it does appear in places like this. He said that areas with bog iron could be harvested once every few decades, so it’s a slow thing.”

Ludmila’s gaze turned to the familiar marshes of her home. They stretched far to the north, and took up two thirds of her land. The villagers had long since come to appreciate and harness the productivity of the valley in terms of its vegetation and wildlife, but they had never known there was such mineral wealth as well. She must have gone by similar lumps of ore thousands of times while traversing the marshes throughout her life.

“So when you said there was enough iron here to build a small city, you weren’t exaggerating.”

“No, my lady,” he grinned. “A family could make their livelihoods collecting ore and selling it, and they’d probably never run out with this much area to cover. It’d be a different story if you established a foundry here and started exporting your products, of course, but I meant what I said yesterday. Your territory has a balance of all the right things, as long as you know what to look out for. Even as much as I’ve seen in all my travels, there are probably people out there that’ll notice things that I haven’t.”

“That’s very encouraging to hear,” Ludmila turned back with a nod and a slight smile. “I’m glad you decided to come work for me, Mr. Kovalev.”

“Pleasure’s all mine, Lady Zahradnik. It feels good to be useful, especially in a promising place like this.”

Another Skeleton walked by with its bucket of clay, depositing it with a splat. Their eyes followed it as it came and went.

“Have you tried using the skeletons to find ore?”

“Sure did,” he laughed. “It was the first thing I tried. Thought I’d have it easy, but they can’t tell anything apart. Even scooping up this clay is hit and miss: sometimes I get mud and rocks, other times a clump of roots with a plant attached.”

“What have you found them useful for, then? Besides carrying mud around.”

“Carrying wood around,” he raised his hands disarmingly when Ludmila frowned a bit at his words. “They’re tireless, so they’re ideal for pumping bellows as well. As long as you have the fuel, the furnace that you build in the future should be able to easily turn out steel if it’s designed to harness the labour of a group of Skeletons operating a set of bellows. They can swing hammers too – I guess that’s a given since Skeletons always seem to carry weapons around – but I prefer to do that part myself. They’re not too great at working together with me and it breaks my flow constantly. I mostly have them moving things around for now. Maybe I’ll come up with other ideas later.”

“Make sure you report your findings to Nonna when you get the chance,” Ludmila told him. “Before I get going, I’ve a load of equipment that needs repairs.”

“Sure, let’s have a look.”

Ludmila motioned for one of the Death Knights to pick up the crate that she had delivered earlier to the warehouse nearby. It returned after a few minutes, placing it on the ground between them. Ostrik let out a sigh even as the crate was laid on the ground.

“What’s wrong?” Ludmila asked worriedly.

The smith picked up one of the broken tools, a shovel blade with a large chunk missing, leaving a sharp edge behind.

“This is cast iron,” he said simply.

“Is that bad?” Ludmila asked.

“It’s not something I can fix with what I have here,” the smith said. “Cast Iron is brittle and can’t be reworked like forged iron or steel – it just goes everywhere if you even try. Doesn’t mean that you’ve been cheated, though: it just means that whoever made these thought they were tight on time so they chose a method that could turn out a lot of equipment quickly.”

Ludmila considered the smith’s words. Forgemaster Mesmit’s account did match Ostrik’s assessment of what had happened. Knowing this did not help her at all, though.

“What can be done, then?” She asked.

“Well, if you’re desperate for replacements,” he answered, “you’ll have to return to the city to buy them. The scrap here can be sold to the forges in the city that can do something about it. If you think you can hold out, I would say keep the scrap here and we can turn it into steel when the forge furnace is ready.”

Since there should be enough spare equipment to finish the fieldwork, saving the materials to make steel tools sounded like a good idea. They would be far more durable and could be repaired, and having the work done locally meant she would ultimately save on the costs of purchasing them from the city.

“I’ll leave you to your work then, Mr. Kovalev,” she decided she had taken up enough of the smith’s time. “We can hold onto this scrap until it can be turned into steel. Hopefully I’ll be able to find who I need to start construction work soon.”

Ostrik waved absently as he returned to fashioning the bloomery. With most of what she had planned out for the day completed, she looked forward to the free time she would have to practice her skills with her new equipment. Approaching the warehouse, she slowed her steps when she noticed Nonna had returned.

“Did Mr. Boer speak with you about his findings?” Ludmila asked.

“He did,” Nonna replied without looking up from her work.

“After everything that’s come to light,” Ludmila said, “I’m curious about what went into the information provided by the administration’s materials. You mentioned that Carne didn’t have the same issues with equipment failure, yet the recommendations provided for spare equipment actually line up with our losses so far. Then there’s the yield estimates: they are far beyond what a farming village in this duchy can produce, yet the numbers seem without variation or expectations accompanying them. Why is that?”

Nonna’s pen stopped scratching, and the Elder Lich looked up at her quietly.

“The answer is as you have probably already surmised,” she said.

“You knew that the information was this unreliable?” Ludmila frowned.

“It was not until today that I requested the source materials,” Nonna replied, “due to all the discrepancies that I personally observed on the field. The components that went into the data provided by the almanacs are from various sources conducted under different circumstances: thus my creation of the new control sample that we spoke of earlier today.”

“Doesn’t that mean we practically went in blind on this? No wonder the lease was free…”

“Data is data,” Nonna said flatly. “The available data was that which was collected from past records of the region, some information from Carne Village and experimental results provided by the Imperial Ministry of Magic. Every action taken using the available materials is a hypothesis through which further observations are made possible, where information is proven or disproven and ultimately added to the Sorcerous Kingdom’s archives.

As observations are collected, knowledge expands. As Knowledge expands, rules, procedures and formulas are established. Anomalies that challenge our perception of the world inevitably present themselves, and so observations are made and knowledge expands once more…at least this is something one of my seniors has said.”

“I didn’t know Elder Liches had seniors,” Ludmila said bemusedly. “Who said this?”

“Titus Annaeus Secundus, Chief Librarian of Ashurbanipal – one of the leading researchers of the Sorcerous Kingdom.”

“He sounds like an interesting person,” Ludmila said. “Maybe I’ll be able to visit this library one day.”

“That is highly unlikely,” Nonna told her, “you have neither the permission nor the qualifications to enter.”

Ludmila smirked at Nonna’s flat refusal. Walking past her, she entered the warehouse to put away the produce she had returned with, in addition to the basket of fish that the captain had apparently succeeded in catching from the river. Scanning the shelves to find a place to arrange everything, an object in the near corner caught her eye.

It was a large, glossy black box of unknown construction which stood around the height of her knee. A strip of paper scrawled with unknown writing sealed the container. Eyes wide, she looked back to Nonna standing beside the entrance outside – who once again seemed to be busy writing in her tome.

“Was this always here?” Ludmila asked.

“No, it arrived several hours ago,” the Elder Lich said.

“How did it get inside?”

“...it was delivered, by order of the Royal Treasurer.”

“By who?”

Nonna did not answer, continuing her work in silence.

Ludmila knelt in front of the box, running a hand over its smooth surface. She hesitated for a moment before pulling open the seal and lifting the lid. With the noise of bones clattering against one another, a familiar looking Skeleton rose and formed itself, the lens of its golden monocle reflecting the afternoon light coming in from the warehouse door.

“Good day, madam!” It bowed slightly at the waist as it greeted her, “How may I be of assistance?”

Birthright: Act 3, Chapter 22

Chapter 22

Concealed by the shadowy interior of the guest manor, Pandora’s Actor leaned against the wall of his bedroom, watching the streets below through its windows. It was a pleasant afternoon in the city, though traces of the spring rains still remained over the glistening cobblestones. A pair of Death Knights strode by on their patrol of the central district, their heavy footfalls resonating through the air. A short ways away, there was a small group of nobles which trailed behind, accompanied by their servants on their way to conduct their business somewhere. The sight was a satisfying one: proof that the efforts that had been poured into revitalizing the city and its surrounding territories were truly beginning to take hold.

It had been nearly three weeks since Shalltear Bloodfallen had agreed to join hands with him in his work – three weeks since the stormy night when he had been struck by the epiphany that now lay at the core of all his efforts with the citizens of the realm. He had reworked the approach by which he now encouraged the people, and reflection on his previous actions in comparison still made him chuckle ruefully to himself. He had ceased his shallow efforts to become an object of adulation; a proud figure that attempted to force the idea of bravery and resilience in all who laid eyes on him. Now, he had acted to become a constant in the eyes of the Humans, interacting with them in a much more personal manner. He was no longer just an Adventurer: he had become a friend to the people; a trusted confidante; a role model that led the citizens of the Sorcerous Kingdom into the bright future that their new sovereign had in store for them.

Slowly, but surely, the citizens responded to him. Through his encouragement, the people roused themselves from their fearful stupor and life returned to the duchy as inevitably as blossoms would greet the spring. The multitude of pebbles he had shifted out in the vast rural regions surrounding the city eventually turned into an avalanche. Tenants from hamlets created demand for the services of their respective villages, which in turn restarted trade and travel to and from the towns that serviced those villages. The flow of goods and labour eventually reached the capital of E-Rantel: first in a trickle, then a flood. It was startling to see how the entire city seemed to immediately come to life – as if its people had been rudely chased out of their beds by a bucket of ice water.

The civilization built by the Humans was both intricate and insidious in its functioning. All it had taken was a series of gentle nudges in the right places to stir it from its slumber – he had learned how to turn the key he had been given, as Shalltear had so poetically described it. As the parts of that lock tumbled and snapped into place, the people moved of their own volition to act out their roles. It seemed an irresistible thing to them: a part of their nature that they could not deny as they sought out a tiny, yet coveted position amongst their fellows. It mattered little what part they played – farmer or smith; noble or servant. All purpose was dictated by a system that had been refined over generations to suit the qualities and needs of their race. There were, of course, a few disenfranchised individuals amongst them, but they were by far a tiny minority.

More, he realized, had their roles supplanted by various aspects of the Sorcerous Kingdom that the Guardian Overseer saw fit to rearrange. It was something that had already come to pass and the damage had already been done, so he would need to keep an eye on things to ensure that as many as possible could partake in his Master’s vision for the realm. There was also the incorporation of the various non-human species that were already a part of the citizenry. With Humans by far the majority of the realm’s population, it seemed like the best option. The more intelligent of the nonhuman denizens would almost certainly adapt to find their place, but there were others that did not quite fit into the puzzle for one reason or another.

That these weak beings were not as unsophisticated and chaotic as they initially seemed was a realization that was ever so slowly dawning on the other servants of Nazarick. That they would naturally pursue higher ideals of order had struck a chord with some, and was recognized as a trait to be exploited by others. There was no doubt in his own mind that it was something long understood and incorporated into his Master’s plans: even when ruled over by one that was not of their own, they would inevitably and willingly come to embrace the order of the Sorcerous Kingdom and commit themselves fully to its cause.

How vast was his Creator’s intellect, knowing that not changing such a small thing would have a greater effect than a thousand alterations and amendments by the Guardian Overseer? Everything slid so naturally into place when he followed his Master’s lead, with no resistance or complaint. The work of generations shortened to mere weeks: surely one with such perfect understanding deserved to be called a Supreme Being. All there was to do now was to capitalize on this progress…but what did their Master wish of them next?

As he continued to ponder what his future steps would be, there was a soft knock at the door.

In the blink of an eye, Pandora’s Actor took on the guise of Momon, equipping the Adventurer’s dark attire. As he did so he realized it was probably unnecessary, but he completed the action regardless. He lived alone in the manor most of the time, with Narberal only occasionally frequenting it for the sake of appearances. Momon’s visitors would not be knocking at the door to this room: they would be ringing the bell to the manor and awaiting his answer outdoors.

“Enter,” he said.

Surely enough, the figure of an Eight-Edge Assassin appeared in the doorframe. It scuttled in and made a sort of bow – if such a form could be said to bow – and its mouthparts worked as it spoke.

“Ainz-sama has arrived to see you.”

Pandora’s Actor unconsciously straightened at the sound of his Master’s name.

“Understood. You may return.”

After the door closed behind the Eight-Edge Assassin, Momon’s equipment and guise vanished from Pandora’s Actor, replaced by his sharp military uniform. His fingers fidgeted nervously as they roamed to ensure his attire was impeccable. Stepping in front of a body-length mirror, he flourished his cloak for effect and evaluated the results. His cap was not straight. Or was it? He moved to adjust it carefully, then decided to tilt it, thinking it might look more dashing that way. A hand went to his chin as he pondered his image, and then he straightened his cap again.

His body moved from side to side, as if he could look around his reflection to catch a glimpse of himself from another angle. He rehearsed a few poses and gestures that he thought might be appropriate for a meeting with his Creator and, suitably satisfied with what he had finally settled on, Pandora’s Actor strode to the door. It would not do to keep his Master waiting.

As he made his way out of his room and down the stairs, he scanned the hall that encircled the courtyard, looking from door to door until he spotted the only one being guarded, which led to the drawing room of the manor. He checked over himself one last time: tilting his hat, adjusting his lapels and straightening his tie as he mentally rehearsed his actions once again before rigidly knocking at the door.

The door opened and he looked down to see the Homunculus Maid, Fifth. She did not meet his gaze and waited silently for him to make his entrance. Mustering all of his courage, Pandora’s Actor strode into the room grandly.

“Oh Supreme One!” He said boldly as his arms swept out before him, “My creator Ainz-sama–”

“No need to greet me. Sit.”

“Yes!”

All thoughts of his carefully rehearsed movements instantly vanished as he clicked his heels together. He goose stepped his way to the couch where the Supreme Overlord of Nazarick awaited him, and promptly seated himself. Pandora’s Actor sat stiffly as he felt his Master’s eyes closely evaluate him. Time seemed to stretch on in the silence as he did so, so he thought to fill in the space by engaging in the proper pleasantries.

“May I ask–”

“No, it’s nothing, don’t worry about it,” his Master interjected, and Pandora’s Actor immediately withdrew his words. “All right, I have some things to ask you. First, I’d like to know about Momon’s condition. I know what you’ve reported to Albedo...so, are there any problems?”

Aside from the die that he had cast a few weeks ago, the reports that he had given to Albedo had been, for the most part, progress reports regarding his efforts to restore the vitality of E-Rantel. The former was the only real incident that could have qualified as irregular – as the latter was the role which he had been assigned – so did that mean that his Master approved of his move to place the young noblewoman under Shalltear? He supposed it must. Surely, it must be so, considering the valuable sequence of outcomes that continued to manifest as a result, progressively branching and blossoming into a myriad of positive effects.

“It would seem there is nothing spec–”

“Is that so,” Pandora’s Actor was interrupted once again, “good. Then, I’d like to ask you, Pandora’s Actor – are there any problems on your end?”

It would seem that everything was going according to his Master’s plans. He relaxed somewhat, assured that his own actions had not run afoul of his Creator’s Will and pondered what sort of personal problems he might have to report. There was really only one thing – though in truth his zeal in achieving his goals had actually served as a sort of distraction from it. In truth…

“In truth, Ainz-sama!”

With the floodgates of his desire wrenched open at his Master’s prompting, the realization of what he had been missing the entire time came crashing down on him all at once.

“I – I have suffered greatly!”

As his emotions welled from within, he rose from his seat and rounded on his Master. Surely, this was an act of the kindest regard – for his Creator to be so acutely aware of his needs. He drew close, with one arm resting on the backrest of the couch and the other making animated gestures as he spoke.

“During this time,” Pandora’s Actor said, “I have not been able to touch magic items.”

Well, technically he had – though the magical conveniences of the Humans such as enchanted containers and Faucets of Spring Water were a fraction of a pittance in comparison with what lay within the vaults of Nazarick and thus did not even come close to satiating his urges.

“I have been unable to maintain the various magic items created by the Supreme Beings,” he continued. “The sorting of data crystals has ground to a halt as well. Please! No matter what, Ainz-sama! I beseech you to grant me some time with those items!”

“…I – did I design you that way?”

“Of that, there is no doubt!” Pandora’s Actor proclaimed, “These feelings were bestowed upon me by yourself, Momonga-sama!”

“Did I not permit you to return to Nazarick every day?” Momonga-sama returned after a momentary pause.

“But I have not received permission to return to the Treasury!”

Pandora’s actor returned periodically to the Great Tomb, but mainly for the purpose of creating Undead servants out of the frozen corpses on the Fifth Floor once a day. Without the Ring of Ainz Ooal Gown, which he did not carry as he travelled about the realm as Momon due to security concerns, he could not enter the hallowed sanctum of the Guild Treasury.

“I understand,” his Master said. “Then, I shall inform Shalltear and have her give the Ring to you. In addition, I grant you permission to work on my comrades’ weaponry and equipment. Do not damage them.”

The fact that he had mentioned Shalltear specifically gave Pandora’s Actor a split second’s pause. Due to their agreed-upon collaboration to achieve the ideal realm of their Master, he and the Floor Guardian kept in regular contact with one another. Did the purposeful selection mean that their Master knew well of what had transpired and had just given his tacit approval of their work? There was also the idea that she was one of the NPCs that had the Ring who could also transport herself magically, but doing so by one of the others who could not was simply a matter of asking so it must have meant the former. The thought that he had succeeded in discerning his Master’s wishes filled him with satisfaction once again.

He straightened his hat and rose to offer a crisp salute.

“It shall–”

“Stop that. Speaking normally will be fine. Didn’t I tell you this before, hm, Pandora’s Actor?”

“Yes!”

“The relationship between us is one of creator and created. The fact is, I am very happy with the way you have worked hard to show me the being I intended to make. However, sometimes I wonder; should children not work to exceed their parents?”

The fact that his work was being directly affirmed had the effect of being extremely gratifying. The idea that his Creator considered Pandora’s Actor His own child filled him with overwhelming euphoria.

“Ohh…Ainz-sama. To think you would refer to me as your child!”

“Umu, umu,” his Creator nodded. “You are…er…my son, or something like that. That, er, how shall I put this, should most likely, er, that should be the case. Therefore, there’s no need to use German or salute or be so dramatic in front of me. Since I made you, I want to see the parts of you that I did not make, as proof that you have grown.”

There was a sniffling sound in the background as Pandora’s Actor bowed, absorbing the edifying words from his Creator. His Creator? No…

“I understand – Father!”

“...Oh.”

“I shall show you what you wish to see, Father!” Pandora’s Actor declared.

“Pandora’s Actor. You must not tell anyone else of what has happened here. Understood? If people know that you’re receiving special treatment, it might result in friction with the others.” His Father’s voice was solem, “Also – in fact, because of that, I will be placing you lower on my priorities. If the time comes when I have to choose between helping you or the Floor Guardians, I will abandon you.”

It felt something of a relief that he was least on the list of his Father’s concerns. The vote of confidence filled him with pride, and he thrust out his chest after he rose to stand tall.

“But of course! Please, sacrifice me as you see fit!”

“I am sorry. And...Fifth. Do not speak of what has happened here.”

The Homunculus Maid attending to their Master nodded in acknowledgement of the order. Ainz Ooal Gown rose from his seat with a regal nod.

“Then, I will be on my way.”

Understanding that absolutely no one was to know of their meeting, Pandora’s Actor locked away the precious memory in the treasury of his heart. He was now supremely assured that his work was as his Father had wished of him. The Supreme Overlord of Nazarick knew what Pandora’s Actor had been doing, and had visited to personally deliver his approval. Still, there were many questions that lingered in his mind: questions which echoed in the voices of the people that he had become much more than just a hero to. He thought of the humble families of tenant labourers in their rural lands; of the craftsmen and shopkeepers in the settlements that they serviced; of the nobles who administered their fiefs and pioneered the new ways that would become the foundations of the Sorcerous Kingdom.

“Ah, about that,” he felt compelled to speak before they parted ways, “could you hold on a little? Since we meet rarely, there is a matter that I would like to ask you, Father.”

Since his Father had stated that he would now be focusing more on the others, Pandora’s Actor seized the opportunity to ask on the peoples’ behalf.

“May I know how you intend to rule this Sorcerous Kingdom?”

End of Act Character Sheets

Birthright: Act 4, Chapter 1

Chapter 1

The serving girl shot him a glare.

It was the fifth such glare that afternoon – that he had noticed, anyways – but Itzal Verdi looked past her ire with disinterest as he nursed his drink in the furthest corner of the tavern. His lidded gaze scanned the common room, running over the sparsely occupied tables and then to the door of the building, which had been undisturbed for the past hour. For over a week he had been waiting to meet his associates, and the tavern itself had been the last in a long series of backups in case all of their other meeting spots had been compromised.

And compromised they were: leveled, in fact.

When he arrived in E-Rantel amongst the trickle of rural traffic coming in through the southern gate, he had taken a meandering route intended to confuse potential observers through the streets on the way to the slums of the city – only to find that all of the entrances to the district had been barred off. Under Reconstruction, the words were plainly scrawled in bold on a large sign laid across every gate; accompanied by the seal of the city’s new administration. He turned away from the Undead sentries standing watch over the ways in and asked around, soon discovering from the locals that the entire section of the city had been cleared and was now undergoing conversion into a district for use by Demihumans.

The thought made him recoil in disgust, yet the only visible mark of his displeasure was a slight turning-down of a corner of his mouth.

Preposterous. A city founded by Humans becoming a teeming den of inhuman filth? He supposed the apostates that had turned away from their rightful gods deserved no less. Even so, it infuriated him that they didn’t even seem to care that a huge swathe of their beloved city would simply be given away to a swarm of savage creatures.

Itzal sighed; understanding that his own frustrations over the entire situation did nothing to alleviate his current problems. The slums were an ideal backdrop to run the operation that he was a part of: a section of the city that was barely monitored by the authorities and full of people that would willingly perform various tasks for little pay with no questions asked. Within, it was easy to hide and even easier to escape notice; a community full of individuals with various useful skill sets and networks which complemented his line of work.

He might have expected one or two of the ‘establishments’ where he was to meet with his fellows going under due to perfectly normal circumstances, but the idea that the whole damn thing would go up all at once was something that they had only considered as an afterthought in their contingency planning. What sane person would suddenly decide to tear up a whole quarter of a city, anyways?

The serving girl shot another glare at him and Itzal decided that he had stayed for long enough. Unlike the seedy watering holes in the slums, the taverns that were in the main section in the city were too…reputable. They were too open and too well lit; made to provide hospitality to merchants and well-to-do travelers. The patrons would try to connect with others and the staff would keep pestering you without your asking. Even trying to avoid notice would get you noticed, so one couldn’t even act to obscure their identity as they waited at their tables. After days of waiting, it seemed pointless; he would have to figure out something else. Shoving open the door, Itzal didn’t even bother to give the fuming waitress a second glance as he left the building.

Taking a turn, he nearly bumped into a short, portly woman coming up the street. Their eyes met momentarily before he stepped back into the doorframe to stand aside, continuing on his way after she had passed. He turned into the alley behind the tavern and, a half hour later, the same woman appeared from the other end of the alley. She made her way up to him, leaning on the shadowed wall across from where he stood.

“About damn time,” Itzal spat.

“Can’t be helped,” the woman shrugged. “You know how it is.”

Itzal made a noncommittal noise. Road traffic between E-Rantel had effectively ceased from the neighboring nations since its fall, making it difficult to travel unnoticed from abroad. He himself had been on standby in Crosston, and it had taken more than two weeks before he felt it was safe to join the fresh trickle of local carts and wagons to enter the city.

“I’m surprised the Eight Fingers moved at all,” she continued. “Didn’t even think they’d want to try and sink their teeth into this place, but I guess I was wrong. The leaders pushed to get a caravan together all the sudden and sent it over with some pretty normal cargo. Probably trying to lay out their groundwork and set up shop…but I guess they got the same nasty surprise that we did.”

He made to reply, but shadows flickered across the ground as a pair of Undead casters zipped through the sky over the alley for a split second. Uncertain whether they had been noticed, Itzal silently motioned for them to split up and meet at a safer location.

They were together again an hour later, finding a freshly abandoned home deep in the back alleys. When he had first arrived in E-Rantel, this hidden area of the city had been crowded with the displaced denizens of the slums but they had disappeared somewhere since then. It had happened quite suddenly: he returned from a day of waiting at the tavern and every man, woman and child had disappeared. All of the work he had laid out in the short time he had been in E-Rantel fell apart as well.

The homes were emptied; all evidence of their former residents absent, leaving buildings scoured clean sitting in eerie and sterile silence. He couldn’t tell if they had been violently whisked away, or slaughtered on the spot – they certainly hadn’t walked away through the city streets, and the rest of the city was none the wiser.

“Any sign?” The woman asked.

“I haven’t seen any of the others for days,” Itzal answered. “You’re the second to arrive after me, as far as I know. I almost went to the Cathedral – that’s how stumped I was.”

“The Cathedral?” She frowned, “You know that’s a last resort.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he held up his hands placatingly. “Just saying.”

Agents working under the Scriptures almost never interacted with the Temples when working. The sacrosanct status of the Temples in nations with secular governments relied on their hands being clean of activities that might be considered interference in political matters, or those threatening the security of the state. It was only in the most dire of emergencies that they would appeal to the local Temples for assistance – or to send word in a desperate situation.

The sign that the woman asked after was the presence of a Scripture member that should have eventually appeared to coordinate the regular regional efforts in their operations. Each agent in that effort ran a cell consisting of mostly unassociated subordinates and associates who were unaware of their true nature and would, as a whole, create a web which collected information to be sent back to their superiors through others that passively drifted through the region.

They could be disguised as anything: Adventurers, traders, mercenaries, vagabonds. These agents and the information they held would be carried throughout the realms by the currents of trade and travel, like whispers on the wind. It was this vast network that kept the Slane Theocracy apprised about what went on in the world around them, and many of its knowing participants considered it a sacred duty.

His decision to uproot himself from Crosston to help set up a new group of cells in the city of E-Rantel came shortly after its annexation. Agents such as himself worked in a fluid and natural fashion: they would identify gaps in the greater lines of communication that needed to be filled, and those on standby in the region would move independently to do so until those gaps were bridged.

At first glance, it seemed like a haphazard way to organize work that generally required meticulous effort but, in reality, it was extraordinarily difficult to counter. Agents saturated the lands, passively collecting information. Removing a few would simply see the vacancy replaced by others in short order. More often than not, governments simply gave up trying as it was tantamount to suspecting every single inhabitant in their country of being a spy.

There were a few others around the city that he sensed to be similar to himself – intelligence agents from other organizations – which made the absence of their own coordinator all the more puzzling. He or she was supposed to arrive in advance of the others, possibly with additional objectives delivered directly from the upper echelons of the Theocracy. As someone with local expertise, Itzal was to collaborate with them to lay out the foundations of the intelligence network in the duchy, but this coordinator had vanished without a trace. More accurately, there wasn’t even any evidence that one had even arrived in the first place. A Scripture member was a part of the elite corps of the Slane Theocracy and would be much harder to stop than these other agents from lesser nations, so their coordinator should have easily slipped in as well.

“Looks like you’re in charge for now, then,” the woman spoke with expectation, yet there was a question on her face.

“No,” Itzal shook his head. “Everything set up from last year is gone. We’ll work on our own and try to lay as much new groundwork as possible – let anyone else you see know as well. Whoever finally does arrive will need things working as well as possible when they get here. They can sort everything out later.”

With that, they split up to start their work.

Special orders notwithstanding, the basic role of the information network utilized by the Scriptures was always the same. Filter out useful-sounding information and send it on its way. Assist local operations with information gathering, should they require it.

Setting up for that alone would take up enough time to see if their coordinator was simply late, but there was still the pressing matter of the resources and funding they should have provided to assist them. Minor agents like Itzal would be able to independently fend for themselves, but financing a broad network of eyes and ears under them was not something that was easily done without acting out of character for their supposed personas – especially now that the impoverished people in the slums had all but vanished. Even so, if they did not act, the information that the Theocracy would have to work with regarding the situation in E-Rantel would be unsubstantiated and possibly filled with harmful rumors and unfiltered hearsay.

Itzal’s cover was basically that of a layabout mercenary, while the woman looked to be posing as a caravan worker for the Eight Fingers – a criminal syndicate that ruled the increasingly pervasive underworld of Re-Estize – which in turn was probably posing as a regular merchant caravan. He had hopes that one of the other agents coming in would be a wealthy merchant or something along those lines to smoothen things out financially but, until then, there was no point in working as a group with essentially no collective resources that could potentially overlap. It would be much easier for each of them to forge small inroads in whatever niche they found to work with…and if one of them was discovered, the rest would be much safer with no traceable coordination to implicate the rest. There were just too many unknowns about the way this strange, inhuman nation functioned and missteps were bound to happen.

Lost in his thoughts over what could be accomplished with so little, he stepped out onto the street and nearly collided with a Death Knight patrolling the street. He stifled a curse and reached for his sidearm – a light mace – before regaining control of himself. The Undead horror stopped to stare down at him, as if in anticipation of the most cursory infraction that would give it an excuse to mete out some grisly punishment for challenging public order. Itzal lowered his trembling hands to his sides, and it ran its hateful crimson gaze over him one last time before turning away to resume its beat.

Even after nearly a week of being in the city, he still couldn’t get used to the damned things. Watching it recede into the distance, Itzal couldn’t help but feel a grudging respect for the citizens of the city that rose through his disgust. Though somewhat muted in their liveliness, the people simply stood aside and continued on their way whenever they encountered the Undead patrols. They had an unbelievable reserve of fortitude when it came to the grim reality that faced them every day. A younger version of himself might have mocked him over the fact that he, a hardened veteran that worked under the Theocracy’s special forces, was outmatched in mental resilience by the comparatively weak citizens of E-Rantel.

Going by what he could put together, the city folk had been uncertain and fearful initially; with no refuge to flee to that would take them. Unlike the simple labourers of rural territories, which almost always welcomed new hands to help in the fields and forests, the amount of work available in urban areas like cities and towns were entirely dependent on servicing their respective lands and the activity that they attracted. A professional artisan or tradesman could not simply hop over into another community and rob those that had been there long before them of their work. They would have to endure a fresh start at the bottom of the hierarchies of the guilds that regulated them, which did not even guarantee that they would have a way to feed themselves.

For the month that followed the Kingdom’s defeat at Katze plains, he had watched as those that could uproot themselves passed through Crosston, following the Royal Highway to the west – it had been a veritable flood at first with the panic that accompanied word of the rout. The wave of refugees slowed to a trickle a few days after the annexation was formalized and the so-called Sorcerous Kingdom formally declared itself, but Itzal estimated that several hundred thousand had fled over the weeks between...whether they survived the exodus to find a place in Re-Estize seemed dubious considering the lawless state of its rural lands. It was a crippling blow to the towns that serviced the larger territories, and it would be even more pronounced in E-Rantel as the amount of work available would quickly dwindle below what was required to keep the industries of the city afloat.

He allowed himself a grim smile at the thought as he continued through the streets. The Evil Sorcerer King may have announced his ‘benevolent’ intentions to encourage the regular lives of the people, but the hard reality was that the economy of the region had been hamstrung by the mass depopulation of the land which he had violently wrested away for himself. Even the conditions of the quarter that they had pretentiously removed would simply reappear elsewhere in the city as trade and employment faltered and even more of the citizenry fell into poverty.

Itzal did not even need to lift a finger for the inevitable to come to pass. Monsters had no right to rule over men, and Ainz Ooal Gown would find this out the hard way as his ill-gotten gains crumbled from his bony grasp.

Birthright: Act 4, Chapter 2

Chapter 2

A dim hubbub of activity rose over the streets as evening fell on E-Rantel. Labourers left their places of work for the day, seeing to errands their way home, or gathering with acquaintances and coworkers in and around various venues around the city. Several days since meeting the other agent had passed but, ever since Itzal had arrived on his own, he had been tracking the slow increase in activity from day to day. Compared to a week previous, the number of people moving about had increased four-fold. Well, this depended on the area of the city, of course.

Taverns, inns and warehouses normally frequented by traders barely saw any activity, as the merchant traffic coming from beyond the duchy’s borders had effectively ceased at the same time that E-Rantel had fallen. The areas with shops that produced the goods that the rural regions needed for their spring work were faring better: despite the drop in the outlying populations, it was still one of the busiest times of the year for them, after all. By all accounts, they were working to catch up with the disruptions that the new rule had created. The overall result was that it felt like E-Rantel was still in a slump: nowhere near its regular level of activity for the season, but things were slowly, but surely picking up again.

A long line of wagons led by terrifying skeletal horses, billowing with sickly yellow energy, rolled by and Itzal stopped in his tracks, cringing away on the side of the street. Forcing himself to examine them as they passed, he noted that their beds were empty and the seats where one should find drivers were unoccupied. As with the Undead patrols which frequented the streets, the people paid little attention to the macabre procession beyond ensuring that they were not directly in the way. Feeling the rough wall against his own shoulder, he wanted to curse himself for a coward.

How was their composure even possible?

The remarkable mental fortitude of the citizenry was something that he had fruitlessly pondered for some time now. There were a variety of spells that could fortify the mind against fear, but even with the Sorcerer King reputed to be a magic caster of incredible power, Itzal could not imagine the entire city having such spells maintained upon them indefinitely. Neither were there enough magic casters amongst the population to accomplish this. He kept crossing out the possibilities until he reached the end of his list: those with skills in leadership had the ability to reinforce the minds of those around them…but they were limited to charismatic figures, military commanders, nobles and others of similar vocations.

The Adamantite Adventurer, Momon, acted in a manner that was vaguely something like this in recent times, reinforcing his position of trust amongst the general population…but surely that couldn’t be enough? Then again, he was lauded as the greatest Hero of Humanity by the locals, so perhaps it was simply proof that he was an individual of great power and influence. Powers like those were notoriously hard to qualify, however: unlike the direct effects of reinforcing magic, inspiration and command, the broader, more subtle ones required varying degrees of subordination and trust to receive their benefits. That being said, the way he saw people gather around Momon certainly made him seem like this was the case.

An array of appetizing aromas wafted through the air before he reached his destination: the main plaza. There was one more industry that thrived as the city had slowly stirred itself awake again: the food stalls and common eateries which dotted the city. It was not hard to imagine why. After a week of the same, plain food that was distributed as charity by the Sorcerous Kingdom – reportedly it consisted of the cheap, low quality provisions that had been meant to feed the levies of Re-Estize’s Royal Army – he had already developed cravings for something more substantial.

Opportunistic business owners had, by this point, appeared in greater numbers: setting up additional stalls which displayed their wares in order to take advantage of the traffic created by the food vendors. The combined effect was magnetic, drawing more and more residents to the city plazas by the day until it now seemed that a semblance of the city’s nightlife had returned. Itzal still held to his belief that the huge drop in population experienced by the duchy as a whole would eventually catch up with the city but, for the time being, he would take advantage of the free-flowing information that drifted out from the small groups of people gathering about the plaza. He strolled around casually, taking a bite out of a juicy venison skewer that had been marinated, grilled and slathered in savoury sauce.

To those who knew how to listen and draw the connections between various conversations that occurred around one’s self, it was a simple thing to paint a picture of the overall state of the city. It wasn’t even a matter of finding sensitive information or using intrusive measures, as people openly shared information as they socialized with one another for no purpose beyond making conversation.

Most of what he heard fell in line with what he already knew: the planting season had started in earnest, trade beyond the borders was still at a standstill and, due to a lack in the latter, the industries of the city could only function to service the demands of its immediate region with the various shortfalls from the absence of trade looming before them. In particular, the city was quickly running down its inventories of ores and alchemical supplies.

His wandering around the plaza eventually brought him near the fountain in front of the cathedral, where he took a seat to finish the additional bits of his meal, purchased as he meandered about. The main plaza was home to several of the largest organizations in the city: all appeared to be open to their clients and saw regular visitors. The Temple was no exception, and its brightly lit interior could be seen through the stained glass windows and the open doors. A few priests were standing outside, reaching out to passers-by. Occasionally, someone would stop to listen and a few out of those would enter.

Itzal smirked lightly at what would have been considered the rare sight in times past. While the Temples were silent on matters regarding governance – this was the norm in E-Rantel anyways, as Re-Estize did not officially confer with the temples on political affairs either – they had not been silent in their interactions with the population. The Temples of the Four Great Gods, whose doctrines set themselves as implacable enemies of the Undead, had been in turn placed in a bind. They lacked the strength to oppose the Sorcerer King and his Undead minions, and so their words rang hollow in the new reality that the citizens faced.

Though they, too, were often involved in fighting the Undead, the few places of worship for the Six Great Gods in the city, who included Alah Alaf and Surshana – the gods of life and death – in their pantheon, had far fewer difficulties connecting with the population. The Bishop must have surely recognized this advantage, and was now busily reclaiming E-Rantel’s Human population for the faith.

It was laughable that, after over a century of apostasy, what might ultimately turn these people back to worshipping The Six was the advent of the very thing which the heretics claimed to hate the most. In a way, he supposed it made sense – most people would only truly come to the gods in their time of need. Regardless, it was a welcome change overall and he silently lauded the Bishop for his shrewd direction in taking advantage of the times.

Wiping his stained hands on one of the empty wrappers of his meal, Itzal rose from his seat at the fountain. In doing so, his line of sight rose above the tables of the merchant stalls, bringing his attention to new activity stirring in front of the Adventurer Guild nearby. At some point, while he had been eating and pondering the state of the Temples, groups of men and women with varied outfits and equipment had started to filter in to the Guild. As he understood it, the branch had never closed but there was very little in the way of work: it was only really occasionally frequented by its few remaining regulars in the past weeks. The trickle of people entering the building with no one coming out indicated that something was going on in the Guild – perhaps a meeting of some sort.

It was potentially a new development that he could not afford to miss in his ongoing efforts to gather information. After wiping his hands clean, he fished around in a pouch at this belt until he felt what he was looking for, drawing it out. The Mercenary would become an Adventurer, and he fastened the Silver tag that indicated his rank in the Guild around his neck. The work between the two professions overlapped at many points, as did the skill sets useful to them, so it wasn’t entirely unheard of for an individual to take work as one or the other. Being a local of the region, he was already registered at the branch in E-Rantel, so there should be few questions about his presence. Slipping in behind a trio of Iron-ranks, he entered the building.

A wave of stuffy heat rolled over him and out into the cool evening air. The transient nature of Adventurers often made the real membership of the Guild appear deceptively small: very few actually loitered around the guild in normal times. Most would be out working to fill requests that they had taken or enjoying the pleasures of the city after the successful collection of their rewards. Even though most of the members of the E-Rantel branch had relocated their bases to cities in other nations – making it seem like there were only a handful left during the day – the few who remained gathered all at once still loosely filled the main floor of the building. There were dozens of Adventurers clustered about, mostly ranking Silver and below, but he spotted a handful of Gold and Mithril tags as well.

The door opened and closed as more Adventurers filtered in, so Itzal figured he still had time before whatever was going on started. He made his way around the floor, soaking up the atmosphere. In a word, it was gloomy. While he could hear animated greetings between friends and rivals every few minutes, this sort of interaction was scarce. More common were those discussions made in halfhearted tones: no bounties to be made, no new requests – be they for investigations, escorts or exterminations – and the underlying sentiment that after over a month of this continued inactivity, their guildmaster had called the gathering of both active and inactive members to formally announce the dissolution of the branch.

Looking over the board which he remembered once being filled with fresh job postings, he scanned over the few lonely sheets of paper still pinned to it. They were all related to the constantly ongoing work subsidized by the various nobles and administrators of the region: bounties for proof of monster extermination to maintain the overall security of the realm. It was work that had long since been made unnecessary due to the might of the Sorcerer King’s armies. Running his eyes over each sheet pinned on the board, he silently mouthed the targets listed on each.

The long lists of Undead and their rates were crossed out entirely – what was the point of leaving it up? He supposed it might be to show the new government that they were not collecting bounties against their kind. Other omissions did not make any sense at all; why would Goblins, Hobgoblins, Ogres and Trolls be crossed off? They were savage, evil beasts and Itzal could not even begin to imagine why there was specifically no longer a bounty for them.

He had no time to continue his pondering as purposeful steps sounded from the hallway behind the reception counter. Upon hearing the footfalls, the assembled Adventurers started to quiet down. Itzal returned to the main waiting area, sidestepping past several groups in order to get a better view of the proceedings. By the time he found a place amidst the crowd, the man who appeared from the hall had nearly reached the top of the stairs. All eyes followed him as he turned to follow the second floor railing until he stopped to look over the men and women below. He was a middle-aged man with a powerful build and well-groomed appearance. With an upright and vigorous posture, he rested his hands on the wooden rail and seemed to take in the sight before him.

Though it seemed he was about to speak at any moment, the continued trickle of Adventurers still entering the guildhall delayed his address. When it finally appeared that no new members would arrive, Pluton Ainzach – Master of the Adventurer Guild of E-Rantel – spoke, emanating a voice carrying the years of authority and leadership that came with his long service.

“First of all, I’d–”

He abruptly stopped as the door opened one more time and he peered at whoever had entered for a moment before starting again.

“First of all, I’d like to thank you all for coming to my call. I’m truly gratified and humbled that–”

“Ah, skip it, Ainzach.” A voice called up from below, “We’re not a gaggle of officials expecting some speech from a noble. You’re too scruffy to be one, anyways.”

The guildmaster’s eyes flickered across the group for a split second as sporadic laughter rose from the Adventurers below. He seemed to relax a bit and relaxed into a broad grin.

“Fair enough, Moknach,” he said good-naturedly. “I’ll give it to you straight, then. It’s the least that I can do, after all we’ve been through together as a Guild.”

Ainzach cleared his throat and visibly steeled himself.

“Just last week, His Majesty came to me with a proposal,” he held out his hands to hold back the murmur that rose in the wake of his words. “A New Adventurer Guild, under the direction and support of the Sorcerous Kingdom.”

Itzal’s mouth dropped open. He wasn’t the only one. Following the shocked silence, first one voice; then another rose from the crowd.

“Have ya gone daft, Ainzach?” A man’s furious voice shouted up at the guildmaster.

“‘His Majesty?’” A woman scoffed, “Did he get charmed or something? Someone get up there and ring his head a coupla times!”

More voices filled the hall. Many were incredulous, some raised their hands to cast angry gestures in the direction of the second floor. Expressions of betrayal, confusion, ire and scorn marked the faces of those around Itzal. It wasn’t long before a dull roar filled the hall, and the guildmaster switched from delivering his message to attempting to calm the Adventurers down. The sound rose to a raucous clamour before a second figure appeared behind Ainzach and it all at once ceased. Once again, the guildmaster spoke into the sudden silence.

“I have discussed the matter with Momon here,” Ainzach said in a calm voice, “as well as Theo Raksheer of the Magician Guild. I have also had the opportunity to speak at length with His Majesty the Sorcerer King and we are all in agreement that this is the best course going forward for our Guild. I will say now that it is everything that I could have ever dared to dream of, and more – only an absolute fool would cast this chance aside. This offer has already been personally extended to the people in the Empire by His Majesty, so if you do plan on getting ahead before they start to arrive, I highly recommend that you get on board sooner rather than later.”

As he spoke, two more figures joined him: the second member of Darkness, Nabe, and Theo Raksheer, the Master of the Mage Guild. The presence of the realm’s most powerful and respected Adventurer team along with two guildmasters of the city pressed down on the men and women assembled below.

After a moment of subdued silence, a woman’s coarse voice from the crowd spoke.

“But what will this ‘New Adventurer Guild’ want from us?” She asked.

“Why, to become what we are,” Pluton Ainzach replied with a gleam in his eye – it definitely did not match the dull look of one under magical compulsion. “To become Adventurers.”

Birthright: Act 4, Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Pluton Ainzach blew out a breath as he tried to relax and work out the tension he had locked within himself. It had been an intense three hours: the most pressed he had ever felt in his entire life. As a former Adventurer, he had had his fair share of close calls and had been in any number of deadly situations. As the Master of the Adventurer Guild, he had weathered many emergencies and dire crises…but he felt that all of that might have been more preferable to addressing a highly charged crowd of his own guild members.

The reception to the Sorcerer King’s proposal to have the Adventurer Guild become an organization that worked for the Sorcerous Kingdom was mixed, as he had expected. Ainzach himself thought it was an extraordinary opportunity – the New Adventurer Guild, he had called it – for it would very obviously be nothing like what had preceded it.

Instead of the dreary life that most of his members saw in times past – that of an endless grind of bounty hunting, long escorts and dangerous monster exterminations – they would become explorers, diplomats and proud representatives of the Sorcerous Kingdom both within its borders and beyond. Such a thing was a naïve child’s dream – a foolish notion that could only exist in the tales of Bards: composed to fill the mind with excitement and wonder over a fantastical possibility that could never be. No experienced and self-respecting Adventurer, and certainly not Ainzach himself, could have believed that such a life might truly exist.

Yet there he had stood, spinning the proposal of that fanciful life before the ranks of veteran Adventurers that he had known for years. He could recall each and every one of the faces looking up at him: many were plainly disbelieving and some of those members also looked like they were embarrassed from hearing their guildmaster even speak such childish words. Others were skeptical as he explained at length what was in store for the future. He had spent the days after returning from the Empire putting together the outline with assistance from Momon and feedback from trusted individuals who were already aware of what was coming, such as Theo Raksheer.

Despite committing himself fully to His Majesty’s vision, it was difficult to express it in words that could be accepted by others. Still, he believed that the hour-long outline that he had settled on would be sufficient to convince the assembled Adventurers as to the benefits of the new system. In addition to the shift to their roles as true Adventurers, they would receive the support of the Sorcerous Kingdom in various areas that were traditionally difficult for those in their profession. Access to crucial magical items once the realm’s industries had established themselves, rigorous training in all the aspects of their new careers, a generous stipend that would sustain them in times when there was no work to be done and even recovery and resurrection services for the fallen.

As exhaustive as this outline had seemed, questions still came for hours after. In the end, he wasn’t even sure how many of the Adventurers would remain to pursue this intrepid new path that had been set forth for the Guild. They left the building – which had become unbearably stuffy from the uncharacteristic number of people assembled – to deliberate amongst themselves in the cool night air of the plaza outside. Momon and Nabe followed after them, presumably to encourage a positive response. Theo had returned to the Magician Guild. All that remained was Ainzach and the two guild receptionists, Wina Harshia and Ishpen Ronble.

The sound of voices from below caused him to realize that perhaps someone else had remained. Unable to see past the staircase and request board blocking his line of sight to the front counter, he descended to the main floor and turned to walk past the reception area into the hallway which led to his office.

In addition to the two receptionists, there was a third woman in front of the counter wearing a forest green dress more suited to a client of the central district or the Merchant Guild rather than the rough setting of the Adventurer Guild. Now that his thoughts had settled somewhat, Ainzach remembered that it was her entrance that had caused him to cut off the beginning of his address to the gathered Adventurers.

It was not that she was especially beautiful – though recently, with Nabe and the Sorcerer King’s servants frequenting the city, it might have not exactly been a fair assessment – nor did she do anything to command his attention in any particular way. The reason why he had interrupted himself was that he recognized who she was, and that recognition brought to mind one of the first things Ainz Ooal Gown had said to him when he first broached the topic of the future of the Adventurer’s Guild.

This young noblewoman was one of the scions of House Zahradnik, whose territory lay right at the edge of the very location that the Sorcerer King had used to provoke Ainzach over his ignorance of lands right at the duchy’s doorstep. They also happened to be one of the reasons why the Adventurer Guild had little information on the region, as Frontier Nobles tended to defend the borders on their own. There had been no threats in recent history that warranted the assistance of the Adventurer Guild, so their members had no reason to go there. The idea that the Nobles who were bound to their lands probably knew more about these unknown areas than the supposedly unchained Adventurers seemed even more of a rub now that one of them was standing right in front of him.

After that fateful meeting with His Majesty, he had believed that the Sorcerer King had not yet put all his cards on the table and so it seemed that this noblewoman – with her uncannily-timed entrance – was another one of those cards. Considering the depth of His Majesty’s wisdom, knowledge, and foresight, there was absolutely no chance it was a simple coincidence. Not only had she been sent as a pointed reminder of the Sorcerer King’s insight on the matter, she had been delivered to the Guild as something that they would need for their future work.

While a well-educated noble could function as a diplomat or negotiator and would be versed in the laws and policies of the realm, they were – to be blunt – flimsy civilians that were unsuited for the harsh conditions Adventurers faced unless there were some special circumstances or martial traditions involved. Frontier Nobles were a vestige of such a martial tradition, where in times long past the majority of nobles were expected to be able to personally defend their then-wild territories in Re-Estize’s early days of expansion: directly commanding their forces and fighting alongside them.

Still, though…it was irregular in a different way. As far as Ainzach remembered from the previous winter, Lord Zahradnik had three children: two sons in addition to his youngest daughter. He had come to the guild to update his own paperwork and, while his sons seemed very much starry-eyed at the sight of the Adventurers around them, his daughter did not seem to share that interest. It made sense that he would not want to expose his eldest – the heir apparent to his title – to danger as an Adventurer, but why would he send his youngest daughter? As he seated himself in front of the desk in his office, he pondered what it meant.

Normally, noble daughters were used to create alliances and forge blood ties with other noble families. The daughter of a frontier lineage was a particularly attractive prospect to any aristocratic family that wanted to introduce a bloodline more suited for military matters. With the increasing lawlessness in various regions of the Kingdom, it would have been a clear path for Lord Zahradnik to forge a beneficial relationship with another noble house…at least before the annexation of E-Rantel.

The only other reasoning he could come up with was that her family had opted for a different strategy, which was to send their daughter to find a strong Adventurer to serve as a consort who would further strengthen their own pedigree. It seemed a sound, rational move: one that showed that House Zahradnik was in support of His Majesty’s efforts while forwarding their familial objectives as well. Considering how she was dressed more like a courtier than a warrior, it appeared that this case was likely.

She probably wouldn’t have any issues achieving that goal; a consort of that nature was not exactly a husband, after all. Gods forbid that she set her designs on Momon, though. He thought back on all the schemes that had been concocted to land the living legend; Momon’s ability to elude any and all attempts at doing so had become something of a legend itself – and if Nabe discerned the young noblewoman’s motives, she would probably attempt to fry her on the spot.

Well good luck with that, Miss Zahradnik. He thought.

The sound of the ongoing orientation continued to carry into the guildmaster’s office: it sounded like Ishpen was doing most of the talking, as usual.

The veteran receptionist was an exceptional employee, but she loved to assert her dominance over Adventurers by bludgeoning them into submission with her knowledge and expertise in Guild matters. If things seemed like they would get out of hand, Wina would intercede, but it probably wouldn’t come to that in this case. Ishpen would most likely not be able to mentally budge a member of what Ainzach knew to be an especially thick-skinned noble family. It was more likely that the receptionist might find something of a rival in the other woman – in all likelihood a one sided rivalry as members of House Zahradnik were also often infuriatingly aloof.

Well…perhaps. Considering what little he had observed of her demeanor, Ainzach thought she might actually take after her mother on that front instead. Both of her parents were still characteristically obstinate, however.

Relaxing into his chair, the guildmaster closed his eyes and idly stroked his moustache as the voices continued to drift over into his office. The receptionist would roll out an intimidating wall of an explanation about a particular detail of the Guild, then pause to wait for the reaction. Ainzach could pretty much imagine Ishpen’s expectant look as she waited for the overwhelmed and confused expression that would often paint the face of even experienced members when faced with her fiendish tendencies.

He could not detect any signs of being disturbed by the words in the noblewoman’s replies. Though, to be fair, Ishpen could not give the same rundown as she would have been able to just a month or two ago, as many of the regulations and expectations of the Guild were no longer applicable.

The orientation moved on to a rudimentary assessment that made sure an applicant made the bare minimum of physical or magical capability and the basic understanding to qualify for work as a Copper Plate. At least it was rudimentary, as adventuring was a profession where the risk was shouldered almost entirely on the Adventurers and the skill sets that they brought to the table.

While still being developed, the new assessments carried out in the future would need to ensure that every member fit the new requirements for would officially be an expeditionary arm of the state. New standards for entry would need to be hammered out, and formal resources for development would also see growth in due time. The changes in how Adventurer teams would be structured was revolutionary, to say the least.

The sounds of activity and discussion from the reception area died down and, as Ainzach had expected, a Copper Plate was issued. This, too, was something that would eventually need to be addressed. Adventurer ranks were most often seen as a mark of martial prowess, achieved through feats of individual or group strength. Now that their fundamental purpose had changed, other skills not directly related to raw power – such as expertise in lore, diplomatic acumen and survival skills – would need to be factored in somehow. The members of the New Adventurer Guild stood a high chance of being the first representatives of the Sorcerous Kingdom that many outsiders would see from this point onwards, so Ainzach believed that the standards of this new exploratory vanguard should be set as high as possible in order to impress their quality upon all who encountered them.

He heard a polite farewell being made by the Zahradnik girl, followed by the sounds of her departure. Ainzach opened his eyes at the closing of the door, looking down on the piles of documents, reference materials and proposals scattered over his desk. A bright future lay before the Adventurers of the Sorcerous Kingdom: a future filled with purpose and honour; fortune and fame; a world which awaited them with all of its mysteries and wonders. The life of an Adventurer. He felt his eyes tearing up upon remembering how he had felt when he understood the full meaning of what the Sorcerer King’s proposal meant: it was as if he had come to return to them a birthright that had long been lost – buried beneath generations of ruthless and uncaring practicality.

The Master of the New Adventurer Guild leaned over his desk after wiping his eyes clear with his sleeve, picking up his pen to return to his work. Before that promised future could arrive, there was still much to be done.

Birthright: Act 4, Chapter 4

Chapter 4

“Was the hem always this high, my lady?” Aemilia somehow spoke clearly around several pins in her mouth as she knelt to inspect the skirts of Ludmila’s dress.

“It doesn’t feel much different,” Ludmila replied absently.

The mirror stood in its usual place before her, but Ludmila was busy digesting the materials that she had received from the Adventurer Guild receptionist the previous evening to give too much thought to Aemilia’s words. Her lady’s maid probably had the right of it, anyways.

In the weeks since the work had started in Warden’s Vale, Aemilia had grown to become an excellent complement to Ludmila’s activities, becoming familiar with her mistress’ shortfalls in various areas and bringing a sort of harmony to her lifestyle. The unspoken rapport that had developed between them was something Ludmila had never had before, but she now considered it an indispensable part of her daily life. With her household seeing to the mundane, domestic tasks and errands that revolved around the workings of a noble house, Ludmila was able to focus entirely on her own duties as a noble.

“Did it shrink? No – it’s unlikely that Wiluvien would have messed things up,” Aemilia murmured as she brought out a measure. “The dress hasn’t changed…how tall were your brothers, my lady?”

Ludmila looked up from her reading to examine herself in the mirror. She had a vague sense that the hem of her skirt was higher than it used to be, but it was not something she would have obsessed over. Glancing around for a moment, she realized that she had always used familiar things in her own home to gauge the height of herself and her brothers – there was none of that here, obviously

“Just a bit taller,” Ludmila replied. “They were of a height with my lord father…so half a hand, maybe?”

Aemilia made the last few touches on her outfit before she stepped back to examine Ludmila’s appearance. Her gaze roamed over different points of her outfit before she spoke again.

“You should prioritize ordering a new wardrobe, my lady,” she said. “This outfit is getting too short, and you simply cannot wear the same dress every time you come to visit the city. People are sure to notice, and they’ll start looking down on you.”

She has been mentioning this more frequently…

Ludmila stepped down from the footstool in front of the dressing mirror. It was something that she honestly wanted to get done at some point, but scheduling appointments with the various boutiques around the city would be far too time consuming. It seemed that she was never in a single place for more than two days.

The last few weeks had seen her run an endless cycle of going back and forth between Warden’s Vale and E-Rantel, ferrying timber and returning with a handful of new villagers and various odds and ends that could only be purchased from the city. She thoroughly enjoyed the feeling of watching her demesne slowly come back to life and come closer and closer to surpassing its former heights of development, but she wasn’t simply content to watch the grass grow after seeing the fields cleared and sown.

Work was now starting on the next set of fields, with her woodsmen slowly clearing the way for the new development. Most of her time now was spent figuring out how exactly this new development would manifest. She did research on various industries, consulted with her few contacts as well as many of the trade guilds around the city to see how the groundwork for her ideas could be properly laid out.

There were also a couple of new additions to her household in the city, to whom she had delegated various responsibilities to, and the villagers that had first arrived now seemed nearly ready to take care of the new arrivals on their own. With this being the case, Ludmila felt that maybe – maybe there would finally be enough time to take care of all the personal matters that had piled up.

That was before the Adventurer Guild. She had arrived in the city the previous evening with another delivery from the barony, finding a sealed letter awaiting her in the manor. A look of dismay slowly spread across her face as she read the contents and instantly understood that the free time she had been looking forward to was no more:

Baroness Zahradnik,

You are to register at the Adventurer Guild no later than the 8th day of Middle Wind Month. Participate in their activities.

Shalltear Bloodfallen

The beautifully formed cursive of her liege’s handwriting was greatly at odds with the simple message, and Ludmila had turned the paper over several times expecting additional information. Then she realized that it was the evening of the 8th day of Middle Wind Month and rushed off in a panic to change from her travelling clothes to something decent to wear in the city, which consisted solely of her forest green dress that was now apparently too short.

With no carriages available for hire in the city still, she made her way to the main plaza as quickly as she could, jogging past the citizens on the streets and skimming around the Undead patrols. She counted it fortunate that she didn’t get lost along the way. The guildhall already had a crowd of people inside and her late entrance had interrupted the guildmaster, causing him to pointedly follow her with his gaze as she attempted to creep by. Ludmila very much wanted to shrink away from everyone’s notice at the attention drawn to her tardiness. Fortunately, he resumed speaking a moment later.

After several hours inside the stuffy building in a chaotic back and forth between the guildmaster and his members, the assembly had dispersed to make up their minds over the proposal. Still needing to register as an Adventurer, Ludmila had gone to the reception counter where she had received a much clearer explanation about the changes to the Adventurer Guild.

Ishpen, the receptionist, had explained in a refreshingly comprehensive manner and was able to answer Ludmila’s questions to her satisfaction – which she was infinitely grateful for after becoming lost in the melee of words during the meeting. She received her identification after completing her registration and thanked the receptionist for her assistance before returning to the manor.

The nature of the Adventurer Guild had fundamentally changed: so much so that, aside from maintaining the trappings of its identity, it no longer resembled the organization that came before. She came to understand why Lady Shalltear had sent her but, while House Zahradnik had adventuring as a part of their ancestral identity, their duty as nobles had caused them to drift apart from what could be considered a conventional Guild membership and Ludmila wondered if she would truly be able to fit in.

Her family occasionally worked to fill requests to supplement the income of the demesne, but the nobility at large were usually clients of the Adventurer Guild. Each administrator would set aside a portion of their budget and, in combination with the system of subsidies pioneered by Princess Renner, make a cost-benefit analysis over whether commissioning bounties and various requests would be worth the revenues that would be gained or lost if they did not.

For the nobility, it was a system grounded in cold practicality: one that ensured an efficient means to field an effective response to the periodic threats that appeared in the lands. Between the thousands of fiefs in Re-Estize, Adventurer parties with strength ranging from that of village militia to those that rivaled small armies could, if required, be contracted – with none of the expenses involved in training and maintaining a standing army, as well as handling its logistical challenges. It was a godsend for poorer nobles who could not afford the upkeep associated with armed, professional retinues, and a way for wealthier lords to maximize their resources for other concerns.

With the advent of the Sorcerous Kingdom, however, the powerful standing army of Undead with negligible maintenance costs had usurped the mainstay of Adventuring. The new mandate of the Adventurer Guild, by all appearances, was in response to this new reality. Rather than monster exterminators, they were now an expeditionary arm of the Sorcerous Kingdom. As the bulk of the state’s military might lay in the Sorcerer King’s personal forces, this meant that such an organization would be used for exploration, cultural exchange and diplomacy rather than to participate in foreign conflicts.

Seeing that Ludmila possessed skill sets that were now in high demand by the reformed Guild, Lady Shalltear must have sent her to contribute in what was reportedly a personal project of His Majesty. Hopefully, she could produce some positive results for her liege, to whom she was already greatly indebted to.

“My lady, it’s almost time,” Aemilia’s voice drew Ludmila from her ruminations.

Ludmila took a deep breath and refocused her thoughts before leaving the solar to descend to the main floor of the manor. Even as she thought about the New Adventurer Guild, her responsibilities as a noble pressed at her from another side. After weeks of adjustment, the nobles of the duchy were finally starting to settle into the new administrative systems of the realm and a formal meeting of the House of Lords had been called.

As far as she could tell, it was exactly that – a formality. While the Kingdom of Re-Estize convened a legislature which was attended by a multitude of aristocrats, the Duchy of E-Rantel had less than two dozen who held the suitable rank to attend. The Upper House of their parliament – the Royal Court – was more than enough to ensure that the various aspects of their single duchy were kept in working order.

Still, it served as a forum for the various nobles to air their grievances and bring attention to problems that spanned more than a single fief, so she supposed that there were some merits to such an assembly. It was not something that couldn’t be done in a more informal setting, however, and so far the Sorcerer King’s administrators working in the city were very much adequate for keeping the flows of bureaucracy running smoothly. To Ludmila, the call to assembly reeked of the pomp and circumstance that her lord father always held in contempt. She couldn’t imagine that she would appreciate such a pointless activity either. Lady Shalltear had made more than a few disparaging remarks about the endless regular meetings of the Royal Court, so it seemed that even high nobles could share that same distaste.

As Ludmila made her way across the gardens to the Royal Villa, she continued to weigh the benefits of such activities against the time that she seemed to never have any more. Along the way, she spotted a familiar figure in a cobalt gown headed in the same destination and picked up her pace to close in on her.

“Good morning, Lady Corelyn,” she greeted her friend with head respectfully lowered. “I hope the day finds you well.”

“Ugh, don’t do that!” Clara Corelyn replied with a horrified expression on her face, “It just feels wrong.”

“It would be improper to address you otherwise, my lady,” Ludmila felt the corners of her mouth creep upwards.

The recently enfeoffed Countess gave her a sulky look.

After Ludmila had shared her thoughts on how the Royal Court would probably approve of her ambitions as long as she put together a convincing case, the fretful young woman had gone about doing just that. Most would be enthralled and distracted by her radiant and demure appearance, but she came from a long line of outstanding administrators and shrewd merchants and was now in a position to exercise her own substantial skills. A week later, her proposal filled a large binder with concepts, plans and projections that made Ludmila’s head spin when she had been asked to review it before submission. Clara was a Baroness the last time Ludmila had departed from Corelyn Village with the most recent group of new tenants, and by the time she sailed back down again from Warden’s Vale, the Royal Court already accepted her proposal.

It was always startling how quickly the Sorcerous Kingdom could process matters that would take months – or years as Clara’s case would have surely taken – of deliberation by the courts of Re-Estize. That was if it was not simply dismissed outright as ‘too ambitious’ by highlords who were constantly wary of upstart threats. The Sorcerous Kingdom did not care for Human politicking, they did not fear the risk of uprising and they definitely spared no thought for customs that had been observed by the aristocracy for generations. Clara’s proposal had simply been approved and not only had she been granted Baron Vintner’s old title, but the entire stretch of the riverlands from the city of E-Rantel to the border of the Slane Theocracy.

She was promoted to Countess since the resulting demesne would be far larger than what her former rank was expected to manage. While this was technically true and would have certainly been a great honour granted to a lord in Re-Estize, the way the Sorcerous Kingdom saw it seemed more along the lines of using the appropriate rank for the designated authority and nothing more. The reply that came along with the promotion was similarly succinct.

There was no fanfare or ceremony or anything else that normally accompanied the rise of a new high noble; only a short list of expectations and instructions for her to immediately get to work on realizing the projections outlined in her proposal. A secure and reliable flow of exports and commerce, as well as the payment of taxes and the lease of Undead labour was expected after each harvest. Any developments that resulted in deviations from her development schedule were to be reported without exception.

The curt missive did nothing to put off the new Countess, who set about reorganizing all of the territories abandoned by their former lords. She had even chartered a new town, straddling the highway which formerly acted as a boundary between the Corelyn and Vintner Baronies. Clara asserted that it would become an important harbour in the future.

Needless to say, she went from being one of the wealthiest nobles in the duchy to the most wealthy noble in the duchy by far, as well as the most influential to the Human subjects of the Sorcerous Kingdom. Beyond the new harbour town, her other ambitions included refurbishing the highway between E-Rantel and the border of the Theocracy and optimizing it for commerce, building a new, fortified bridge over the Katze River and returning the fertile riverlands to full productivity within the next two years. Clara also had the distinction of being the first noble in the realm to have her oath of fealty ratified by the Sorcerer King, though this contract too had simply come in the form of a ubiquitously stamped document rather than any semblance of a personal ceremony.

Though Ludmila’s liege was now Lady Shalltear, the Countess still held a higher court rank and Ludmila would observe the proper public forms; it was probably because Clara knew her dear friend’s obstinate personality all too well that the idea it might continue on indefinitely horrified her.

As they entered the palatial Royal Villa, Ludmila broached a question.

“Have you any idea why the House of Lords is convening, my lady?”

“Not at all,” Clara replied. “I only came to know about it just before you arrived in the harbour, and we arrived in the city together. The notice that I received was not accompanied by any details.”

They slowed as they approached what appeared to be the hall prepared for the assembly. According to the laws adopted from Re-Estize, Countess Corelyn’s rank should have made her a member of the Royal Court. Her being uninformed seemed to indicate that the Sorcerous Kingdom had indeed decided to keep the highest level of the legislative branch separate from the nobles of the duchy, who were technically direct vassals of the Sorcerer King and thus a part of his court.

It was something speculated over for the past few weeks, and a decision that most would agree upon as sound; E-Rantel’s territory and population was relatively small and did not require such a disproportionate membership in the Royal Court. It meant that they would continue to function in much the same manner as they had when the duchy had been a part of Re-Estize, and any appointments to the Royal Court would be for a specific purpose rather than to appease the desire for intrinsic rights. It was still legally a right, however, though no one seemed inclined to exercise it unless they had a compelling reason to do so. Everyone was too busy, and no one cared enough to make themselves needlessly busier.

The assembly hall was one of several similar rooms on the main floor of the Royal Villa, which could be used for anything from banquets and balls, to the sort of meeting that they were presently called to attend. Several rows of long desks fashioned from rosewood were arranged in a semicircle around an ebony speaker’s stand, and many of the seats available had already been filled. The room’s drapes had been drawn fully open, allowing the morning light to fill the hall, gleaming off of the painstakingly polished furniture and floors. Ludmila could not discern any pattern to the seating arrangement so she walked around with Clara until they found a space where they could be seated together. It was roughly five minutes until the session was supposed to start, so there was not long to wait.

When the time came, the doors closed. A murmur of confusion arose. There were only Human nobles in the room – there was no sign that there was anyone that could be seen as a representative of the Royal Court. It was only momentary, however, as Countess Jezne rose from her desk in the front row and went to stand at the dais. Heads turned to exchange looks with one another over the idea that one of their own had risen to speak to them, and one other thing, as well.

Before the Battle of Katze Plains, the majority of nobles representing their fiefs in the territory were men. Re-Estize was traditionally a patriarchy as well: women were mostly looked upon as a means to create dynastic ties. In the wake of the battle, however, most of the noblemen and their male heirs had been slain – those that survived had fled with their families with the memory of the massacre at their heels, abandoning their lands. Left in their wake was mostly a hodgepodge of spare sons, single daughters and bereaved widows and mothers.

It was at this point that Ludmila understood that the rules of the political arena had been upended, and the power dynamics now reflected those traditionally attributed to meetings between the noblewomen of the court. The Matron of House Jezne was a well respected figure that was looked up to by nearly all the women of the duchy, and so she had become the natural choice to represent them as their speaker. One could almost sense that minds were being reconfigured in that moment, re-aligning themselves to accommodate this new reality – it was probably inevitable that the House of Lords would petition for a change in the succession laws, as well.

Countess Jezne waited patiently as the assembled nobles settled themselves again before speaking.

“There are several points on today’s agenda to be discussed, but I shall start with the most prominent amongst them.”

Her customarily caustic tone that many were familiar with was entirely absent, replaced with a formal voice that could be heard clearly throughout the room.

“The Baharuth Empire has submitted its petition to become a client state of the Sorcerous Kingdom.”

Birthright: Act 4, Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Aside from a gust of wind that played through the gardens outside the window, not a sound could be heard. Countess Jezne looked up from the parchment she had placed on the dais, slowly running her gaze over the assembled nobles. As no one spoke, she looked back down and continued.

“The next item is th–”

“W-w-wait!” A woman’s voice stammered out unsteadily from a corner of the chamber, “That’s it? The Empire, reduced to a point on our agenda?”

“There were several details accompanying the announcement,” Countess Jezne replied offhandedly, “but our esteemed assembly appeared entirely uninterested.”

“Then how?” A noble rose from his seat, “Why? Didn’t the Empire endorse His Majesty’s claim to this duchy? Were they not allies?”

“When did the Sorcerer King mobilize his armies?” Asked another, “If there was some sort of conflict, we should have seen signs of it from here. The closest city of the Empire may be three days away, but their towns and villages come all the way to the borders of the Sorcerous Kingdom – as do ours to the Empire. There was no smoke or any sign of devastation; no flocks to follow after carrion.”

“If the Sorcerer King turned on his ally, what sort of trust can be placed in him? Is the Sor–H-His Majesty’s word so easily broken? Are we next?”

“If His Majesty had any such designs, do you think the Royal Court would have informed us?” Countess Jezne scoffed at the last noblewoman’s fearful speculation. “After all of their efforts to create all these new administrative systems and security measures? Perhaps you should more carefully consider your words before you blurt them out like some ignorant, drunken vagrant.”

The assembly settled down again with the Countess’ reprimand.

“It was the Empire that initiated the process,” she told them. “The Bloody Emperor himself, according to the Guardian Overseer.”

Ludmila had heard the previous evening that the Sorcerer King had visited the Empire at some point to make his offer to the prospective Adventurers there, but there had been nothing regarding what had been announced to the House of Lords.

“What is the nature of this new relationship, then?” Clara asked calmly from beside her, “You say client state, but are they a vassal? A tributary?”

“The terms that define the new relationship have been drafted internally by the Royal Court, pending His Majesty’s final approval.” Countess Jezne paused for a moment before speaking again, “As is, the Baharuth Empire will not become a vassal in the same sense that the nobles of E-Rantel are His Majesty’s vassals. If I were to use a word to describe the arrangement, it would be that they have entered under the hegemony of the Sorcerous Kingdom as a Protectorate. Minor details aside, they will enjoy the same autonomy as they currently do as an independent state, save for their recognition of the executive authority of their suzerain in matters where it is deemed necessary.”

A concerned murmur filled the hall again. It was an extraordinarily open-ended term, one that put the Empire entirely at the mercy of the Sorcerous Kingdom. Ludmila knew well enough that, if the relationship remained a benign one, it offered many benefits. If it turned sour, however, the Royal Court of the Sorcerous Kingdom could instruct the Empire to slaughter its own population and raze their own nation to the ground, and the Empire would be legally bound to do so.

At least the nobles of E-Rantel, under the adopted laws of Re-Estize, were granted protection from acts of tyranny and were involved in the legislative process of the realm. Well, on paper, anyways. If the Sorcerer King decided to turn against his own nobility, there was nothing they could really do. In a way, the arrangement might be considered somewhat similar: survival was contingent on the grace of their liege. As a noble, however, it was hard to imagine such a blatant breach of trust and it was that very trust that allowed them to administer their fiefs without worry.

She wondered why there was such a marked difference in treatment. Was there something unsatisfactory about the Sorcerous Kingdom’s current laws for the Empire to be handed such double-edged terms?

“This information has not been made publicly available yet,” Countess Jezne closed the topic after the continued questions from the members of the assembly had finally been spent. “The Royal Court has seen fit to share this with the House of Lords so that we may make preparations in advance of this development. The Royal Capital is to be the crown jewel of the Sorcerous Kingdom, and as constituents of the capital duchy we must do our utmost in support of the policies that have been laid out by the Royal Court to achieve this before formal relations with the Empire are opened.”

The remaining points on Countess Jezne’s agenda mostly outlined these new policies and the assembly dispersed a little before noon, with many of the nobles dividing into groups to digest the presented information over lunch. Ludmila and Clara left together as they had entered, but were joined shortly along the way to Lady Corelyn’s guest manor by two other noblewomen: Baroness Florine Kadia Dale Gagnier and Baroness Liane Loretta Dale Wagner.

Baroness Wagner’s fief was immediately east of E-Rantel’s city limits, running along the south of the highway between E-Rantel and the Empire. Vintner Barony formerly separated her territory from Corelyn Barony, so Countess Corelyn had essentially become her new neighbor. In addition to raising horses and other draft animals, House Wagner owned a half dozen merchant companies whose primary routes lay between Re-Estize and the Empire. The brief conflict and the following annexation of E-Rantel had disrupted their operations but, with the Empire becoming a client state of the Sorcerous Kingdom, the path would become free of hindrances to trade in that direction.

Baroness Gagnier’s fief was also adjacent to E-Rantel, and lay on Wagner’s northern border across the highway to the Empire. Her territory was focused on producing food for E-Rantel, and one of the primary sources of dairy and poultry products delivered to the city. Both Wagner and Gagnier made their homes in the city itself, administering their fiefs from family manors in the central district.

With Countess Corelyn’s rise to prominence, it was a matter of political and economic necessity for the neighboring Wagner to draw close to her. Mostly because she was Wagner’s friend, but also because she didn’t want to be left out alone against the new camp that had formed overnight in the eastern portion of the duchy, Gagnier had joined the group as well. Though it might have seemed a cold, calculating thing, it was a reality borne from generations of noble politics and they had come together rather naturally due to this. When E-Rantel was still a part of Re-Estize, the women of the duchy had nominally amicable relationships working behind the scenes to influence the direction of the demesne, so there was little in the way of past hostilities that would deter them from banding together in any case.

The small party of young noblewomen chatted amiably while strolling through sunlit blossoms of the Royal Villa’s gardens, followed by their lady’s maids. Gazing upon this picturesque scene, one would have never suspected that they were all subject to the rule of an Undead sovereign.

They arrived at Countess Corelyn’s guest manor, where she was hosting lunch, and were led to a dining room similar in appearance to the one that Ludmila had in her own city residence. Rather than the beeswax candles and their silver stands, however, intricately fashioned magical lamps shone over the long mahogany dining table. The heavy drapes of the dining room had been drawn to block the glare of the midday sun, and the polished silverware laid across the table glowed in the warm light.

Florine Gagnier and Liane Wagner were seated on their host’s left, while Ludmila was seated on Clara’s right. Ludmila knew why she was probably seated there, being close friends with Clara since childhood, but the idea that she held only a tiny fraction of the wealth and influence of the other three noblewomen made her feel undeserving of the arrangement. Her eyes went to Wagner and Gagnier, hoping that she wouldn’t detect any traces of disdain or affront.

The two city nobles had a distinctly different aura than Clara and herself, who mostly administered from within their rural territories. Like Clara, they had the shades of blonde hair that were common to much of Re-Estize’s nobility, but they did not have the same strict and formal appearance. Instead, they wore light, long sleeved blouses with simple flowing skirts that hovered just above their calves. Rather than boots for rough, rural locales, they wore polished leather shoes meant for city use. The clothing emulated the urban fashions of the city popular with the citizenry, but the exquisite tailoring and fine fabrics of their garments distinguished them with an elegant look. They settled into their seats and quietly waited for the meal to begin.

Behind closed doors, nobles would switch to discussing more serious and sensitive topics, but they started on their entrée in silence. Unused to leading conversations and being naturally shy, Ludmila thought she would have to kick her friend under the table to get things going. Fortunately, by the time they had reached their second course – a consommé garnished with fresh garden herbs from her nearby fief – Clara realized she was being a poor host and visibly worked up the courage to speak.

“So, about the Empire…”

Her voice carried a great degree of hesitation, but it was clearly the topic of the day. Throughout the remainder of the assembly, even as Countess Jezne went through the remainder of the subjects delivered from the Royal Court, the fate of the Empire had clearly dominated the thoughts of all in attendance.

“Out of nowhere, wasn’t it?” Baroness Gagnier’s amber eyes sparkled animatedly as she picked up on Clara’s cue in her dulcet tones, “Both Wagner and I received absolutely no reports on any activity along the borders. I wonder how His Majesty managed such a feat…”

“Well, I for one, am relieved,” Baroness Wagner’s icy blue eyes expressed disinterest in the how of things and her slightly lower voice was frank. “My merchants have been dealing with all sorts of nonsense in the Empire for over a month. From the few couriers that came in to report last week, their business has been poor – hampered by the very idea that they were associated with the Sorcerous Kingdom.”

“Hampered how? Was anyone hurt?” Clara’s spoon paused as her voice turned to concern, “Those caravans haven’t even been back to the duchy since autumn, have they?”

“There haven’t been any injuries, nor any sort of overt harassment, really.” Baroness Wagner replied, “But it was such an openly huge event that the rumors flew on wings faster than a Hippogryph. Within a few days of Katze, the news was all over Arwintar – and all over the Empire by the end of the week. Fear has a way of making people lose their minds; it didn’t matter that they had been in the Empire the entire time.”

Ludmila saw the three other faces at the table grimace at the words. It was not too long ago that E-Rantel had cowered in the shadow of a similar fear, so they all knew its effects firsthand. The entire duchy was now desperately working to make up for lost time, and the new policies to improve the capital region pressed them all the more.

“It wasn’t as bad as it was here, was it?” Gagnier asked.

“Of course not,” Wagner sniffed. “It was just a general avoidance of my merchants and a variety of silly rumors surrounding them. People would think they were necromancers in disguise, selling cursed goods, or being Undead themselves. For anyone to actually bring harm to our caravans…well, they would have to have been living under a rock this entire time.”

“They might not attack our merchants,” Gagnier’s voice pressed lightly, “but it still doesn’t solve the problem. If our goods come with a stigma, exports will suffer. Perhaps the Royal Court can do something about it? Those absurdly vague terms that the Emperor agreed to pretty much means that the Empire can be ordered to do anything at all…I wonder what His Majesty did to break him to such a degree that he would concede such authority?”

The women exchanged looks with one another. That was the million Platinum question.

Jircniv Rune Farlord El Nix – the Bloody Emperor – was a rising star, even in the eyes of those not belonging to the Empire. Possessed of great intellect, charisma and the imperial bloodline of Baharuth, he had ambition to match: seeing a meteoric rise to power through his shrewd and decisive actions to consolidate power and reform the nation’s administration. No one could question that he would inevitably become a preeminent force in the politics of the region, nor could anyone imagine that he would submit to anyone, never mind agree to such disadvantageous terms.

“Perhaps he feared what would happen otherwise?” Ludmila offered, “It could have been a tactic to intimidate him into compliance by presenting an unthinkable alternative.”

Across from her, both Wagner and Gagnier stopped to stare at her, utensils resting limply in their soup.

“Scary,” said Wagner.

“Scary!” Gagnier was aghast.

“What?” Ludmila had no idea why they had reacted that way – they were like two peas in a pod.

“Frontier Nobles are scary,” Clara agreed.

“I-Is this how she deals with Demihumans?” Gagnier’s small voice was tinged with worry, “Threaten them with unfathomably horrible things to keep them away from the border?”

I suppose that this is at least partially true. Well, a few usually need to die before we get any results, but…

The others seemed to have read Ludmila’s thoughts perfectly.

“Baroness Zahradnik,” Gagnier’s voice seemed a bit shaky. “I understand that you followers of the Six Great Gods don’t really get along with Demihumans, but the Empire is full of Humans, you know! These terms are something only a Devil would force upon them…”

“I could understand if it was negotiating over the price of goods,” Wagner agreed, “but this is the fate of an entire nation for the indeterminate future we’re talking about here.”

She didn’t think it was that bad of a strategy, but the two newcomers seemed to have developed a rather harsh image of her. Ludmila looked over to Clara for support. The Countess was focusing on the slices of roast duck in the main course; when their eyes met, Clara’s innocently shifted away.

“Then would you petition the Royal Court to amend these terms?” Ludmila asked.

“That’s...there’s no reason for that, is there?” Gagnier’s tone became somewhat indifferent, “We’re nobles of the nation that holds the advantage with these terms, after all. It was just some idle speculation over what had happened in the Empire. Unless the Empire’s affairs infringe upon our own, there’s no reason to voice any complaint.”

“The irrational thoughts about our exports should blow away soon, I think.” Wagner said as her friend turned her attention to the meal, “We’ve all seen the projections: there is no way anyone in the region can compete with our production costs. Even after a significant markup, it still handily outstrips any alternative. Practicality will triumph over such unfounded superstition, yes?”

“Speaking of the projections,” Clara spoke, having finished her duck, “what will you do about your demesne, Liane?”

They all looked at Baroness Wagner, whose lips had drawn into a thin line at the question.

Out of the four nobles, Liane’s demesne had the greatest exposure to risk from the changing markets. Ludmila still had nearly her entire barony to grow into, while Clara…well, the entire duchy would have to fall into ruin before Clara could – probably not even then. Gagnier’s industries would see direct benefits relative to the cheap cost of fodder. Wagner, whose demesne provided draft animals for the local markets, would have to deal with the gradual adoption of Undead throughout the duchy. Eventually, no one in the Sorcerous Kingdom would use draft animals over powerful, tireless Undead workers who could do far more work for a fraction of the cost.

“It’s not that bad, I think,” Wagner replied after taking a sip of wine. “It is true that the demand for draft animals will likely diminish to nothing in local markets in due time, but the demand for them will increase for drawing goods to foreign markets. If the need for horses and oxen triples or quadruples due to the increase in exports and trade overall, there shouldn’t be that great of a shortfall. There should be an accompanying demand for wainwrights, so I can start encouraging apprenticeships in that direction to expand associated industries...and of course the trade networks of our companies should see substantial growth. Our animals are among the best in the region so there should be no issues there either: demand for them abroad was always greater than in the duchy, anyways.”

Though what she said made sense, her voice was still tenuous. Nobles that had already heavily invested in developing their lands to best suit the former economic balance of E-Rantel faced a great amount of uncertainty when it came to reorganizing their industries and populations. Even when the choices seemed sound in theory, the spectre of doubt always shadowed them in lieu of actual results. Potentially devastating costs accompanied any poor decisions – to both the nobles and their subjects – yet there was no choice but to forge ahead, for staying as they were would surely mean ruin.

A sombre atmosphere settled over the table. Each member at the table had a sense of what Lady Wagner was going through: they all had no expectation of inheriting the titles which they now held and certainly not at this age – Clara and Ludmila were seventeen, while Wagner was fifteen and Gagnier a year younger. The legacy of their houses and responsibility for tens of thousands of people had suddenly been thrust upon them, when just months before they had been preparing to become suitable wives for their future husbands. Their families were gone and they had little in the way of confidantes or friends they could rely on. There was no time to grieve or wallow in self-pity over having their world turned upside-down: they needed to stand and move forward as the heads of their respective houses – no one else would do it for them.

Clara reached out to lightly place her hand onto Wagner’s wrist, who had ceased eating entirely with a troubled expression on her face.

“Don’t worry, Liane,” she said in a reassuring voice. “We’ll be here for you if anything goes wrong.”

“Thank you,” Wagner sniffed and wiped her eyes with her free hand, brightening somewhat. “I don’t think the worst could come to pass, but it is still a relief to know that I have everyone’s support.”

Between the group of nobles having lunch together, they could most likely hold through any but the most dire of crises. Their little camp had come about somewhat haphazardly on its own, but it appeared to be surprisingly sturdy nonetheless.

Somewhere in the house, the chime of a clock could be heard, and Aemilia stirred from the wall, entering into the edge of her vision.

“My Lady,” she said softly to Ludmila. “Apologies for interrupting your meal, but your appointment with the Adventurer Guild awaits.”

Birthright: Act 4, Chapter 6

Chapter 6

The tall grass rustled with the passing of many feet as the contingent of Adventurers made their way around the city wall. Once occupied by thick clumps of trees and brush, the cover that had been foolishly allowed to grow all the way to the curtain wall in the past had been cleared away. In its place lay an open field that stretched out in a three kilometre radius all around the city of E-Rantel.

Itzal mused over the change: Lord Rettenmeier, the previous mayor of the city, might have been an excellent civil administrator, but he was blind when it came to even basic security matters. He supposed it was proof that even capable individuals could still be unbelievably inept when it came to matters outside of their own expertise. Personally, the idea that the agents of the Sorcerous Kingdom were a bit more competent than those of E-Rantel’s former administration was not something he liked to see. On the bright side, it showed that the inhuman forces occupying the city still adhered to common principles and logic, thus possessing a predictability that could be exploited.

Despite the terrain being leveled and cleared of obstacles, they moved at a relatively slow pace. Well, it was a slower pace than he was capable of. As they were undergoing ‘Adventurer training’ – whatever that meant – the groups had a wide range of ranks represented in each. There were the four members of a Mithril-ranked Adventurer team that headed each of their respective groups. A Platinum and a Gold rank led the remaining two teams.

The ground that an Adventurer party could cover was generally determined by the slowest member of the party, and traditional parties were generally composed of equally-ranked members. Mithril teams could traverse vast distances compared to Silver teams in the same amount of time, and Silver teams would outpace Copper teams. As each training team had at least two copper ranks each – with at least one of them being a mage of some sort – every team could only move at the pace of a Copper-ranked mage.

It was a wildly impractical setup if it were to be applied outside of training but, since it was training, it allowed the higher-ranked Adventurers to serve as mentors to their juniors. That was the stated idea, anyways, but Itzal had severe doubts about the whole thing.

The mixing of ranks was not the only aspect that was wildly different. If anything, it might be considered reasonable given the circumstances. There were far more drastic changes that came with this ‘New Adventurer Guild’.

Foremost was the number of members in a party. A traditional Adventurer party was composed of four members, but the new organization had expanded that number to six. In addition, each party was a member of a larger expeditionary contingent composed of a maximum of 36 members. Only 30 positions – five teams – would be filled in regular operations. The last group would only join the expedition in extraordinary circumstances that required additional considerations, such as greater diplomatic acumen, economic expertise or raw physical and magical might. It was an arbitrary number decided upon by the coordinators from the Sorcerous Kingdom and, when a few asked for the reason why, the only response was that it was ‘the correct way to do things’.

As he slowly jogged along while pointedly attempting to ignore the wheezing of the Copper-plate mage behind him, Itzal supposed that the new formation also had its benefits.

The traditional four-member formation of an Adventurer team was composed of a Defender, Vanguard, Healer and a class that could act as a Centre Guard – usually a caster who shored up a common deficit in magical offence. This was generally perceived as well-balanced for the types of work Adventurers did, though variations of an Adventurer formation and its numbers were not uncommon. The two positions added were that of a dedicated Scout, and a variable position that served multiple roles or could be swapped depending on the expectations of the party’s work in any given environment. On that note, Adventurer teams were no longer fixed: they were now fluid groups whose compositions could be reconfigured according to the demands of their tasks and the availability of members.

The Scout’s role was clear enough as parties often utilized them, performing double duty in another role. With the new mandate of the Adventurer Guild, they would serve as trailblazers, trackers and survival experts out in the vast unknown that their parties were sent out to explore. Rogues and Rangers, who usually occupied a Vanguard or Centre Guard position, had been mostly assigned to the Scout positions. Rangers were adept at navigating and surviving in the wilderness, while Rogues were extremely useful in exploring dangerous ruins. Both excelled in reconnaissance. Bards could also fill the Scout position but, as there was currently an abundance of Rangers and Rogues, the few Bards present occupied the latter variable position as wildcards due to their broad skill sets and magical utility.

Admittedly, the newly prescribed six-member party was more resilient and adaptable, but one could say that adding anything to an already small party would make it so. There was one more, major, change that might have been seen as a reason for the increase in standard party size.

Each six-member party was also required to have a sort of diplomat – or a commissary, depending on how one thought about it – a member that was well versed with the foreign policy of the Sorcerous Kingdom, practiced in law and diplomacy, and would ensure that the collective understanding and behaviour of the party did not misrepresent the mandate of their organization and thus reflect badly on the nation’s image. It was not a role that was required in the vast majority of requests Adventurers normally took: one did not need a negotiator when exterminating monsters, or be mindful of public image and property rights when ransacking ruins and collecting rare materials, after all.

It was a markedly difficult position to fill with the Adventurer Guild’s current membership. Amongst those present, it was mostly the Bards who were closest to fitting the bill. Itzal supposed that if it were a Human nation, Clerics and Paladins with such inclinations could also perform in this capacity. As it was, there was only one Cleric in the guild present here – who did not meet the qualifications anyways – and so they had to turn to unconventional choices to fill the last couple of openings. Those vocations normally associated with such matters were by and large civilian occupations. Since each member of a party was also required to be a proficient combatant capable of surviving hostile scenarios, they could not simply recruit an office worker for the position.

The first individual who had volunteered was actually a veteran of the City Militia, who at least had experience dealing with a wide variety of people from abroad and was somewhat familiar with local laws. He had decided that, with all of the powerful Undead sentries employed by the Sorcerous Kingdom in the city, he could be better put to use elsewhere and was now studying to fully qualify for his new career as a diplomatic representative working for the Adventurer Guild.

The second person that had shown up was a young noblewoman, who had become the personification of all his frustrations with the former subjects of Re-Estize. Itzal’s initial assessment about the future course of the duchy was that its economy would eventually encounter issues related to the huge portions of its rural population fleeing its lands. Since cities existed to service the regions that they lay within, the collapse of rural industries would result in the collapse of the city’s industries: causing the situation to rapidly deteriorate into intense hardship and unrest. It never happened, however – E-Rantel only ever seemed to gain in momentum on every front as the weeks went by.

It did not take long for realization over what was happening to dawn upon him: most of the citizens were actually collaborating with their new overlord, though they probably did not even think of it in those terms. The people just resumed their lives, fueling activity which would ultimately benefit the Sorcerer King in whatever schemes he had set into motion. The nobility, however, was playing an active role. He did not know how it had started, but eventually every noble had fallen in line with the inhuman administration, playing their part in the realm’s governance. Many had started to adopt Undead labour to varying degrees in the territories under their management, which shored up the shortfalls in manpower that would have otherwise spelled doom for the city.

He had known since the previous spring that his superiors had a plainly poor assessment of Re-Estize’s leadership and had turned to favour the Empire instead, but it was not until it had come to this point that he truly understood the depths of depravity that they had fallen to. That they would be willing to subordinate themselves to an evil monster and spread the Undead to all corners of the region just to maintain their wealth and power was absolutely disgusting. Their moral corruption knew no bounds; he had nearly emptied his stomach in the street upon piecing together the truth.

In a word, it was bad.

Nearly everything about the situation in the city was bad.

The people were being blithely led to embrace their monstrous sovereign by greedy and corrupt nobles: sellouts and traitors to humanity.

The local Adventurer Guild, formerly an organization that served as a shield of the people, was now being repurposed into an expeditionary force – who knows at what point they would be turned against their neighbors? All it would take was for them to engineer a singular incident, and the armies of the Sorcerous Kingdom would have a convenient excuse to devastate a nation.

E-Rantel had become a pit of hell, disguised as a fragrant blossom which lay out its insidious tendrils across the land to drain the life out of everything it touched. It would continue to grow until it had a stranglehold on the entire region and, from there, it would wither away the entire world.

Itzal thanked the gods that he could see what was happening here. His reports would filter out to the Theocracy, who must surely do something to counter this great scourge that had appeared before the nations. He only prayed that a solution was devised before too many innocent lives were exposed to the suffering that would surely come with the Sorcerous Kingdom's heinous actions.

But not these people. These people could burn along with their accursed ‘king’.

The Adventurers in front of him slowed their pace. Itzal looked around at their surroundings, then up at the sun above. They had made their way out of the city gate a little over an hour ago, circling around the city walls to the northwest. At some point, they had straightened their course and slowly distanced themselves from E-Rantel. The city’s massive walls could still be seen looming to the east, but they had traveled quite a ways.

The contingent of Adventurers entered what appeared to be a standing ruin hidden in a wooded meadow, with weathered pillars and piles of stone strewn about. In the centre of ruin was an old-looking structure with a darkened, rectangular entrance.

Itzal furrowed his brow. This close to the city, any ruins would have been picked clean and the structures repurposed into useful building materials by generations long past. Before he could think too much on it, a trio of figures appeared from the entrance of the ruin.

Sighs were drawn from the assembled Adventurers as the first came into the light. Dressed in an extravagant gown the likes of which Itzal had never seen before, she was a pale, voluptuous girl in the cusp of adolescence. Her porcelain skin shielded from the harsh light of the sun by a dark parasol, she came forward with a seductive, swaying motion accentuated by her voluminous skirts.

The two following after her were a pair of Elf children: twins, going by their close appearance. One was a boy in sturdy-looking leather gloves and a red leather outfit overlaid by a pristine white vest and pants to match. In his trail was his timid-looking sister, with a similar outfit save for the blue leather and a short skirt. She clutched a gnarled staff in both hands, as if to hide behind it when they lined up to stand before the Adventurers. The dark-skinned Elf children were crowned in golden hair, with glimmering mismatched eyes – emerald and sapphire in hue.

The trio seemed each a manifestation of physical perfection, drawing various reactions from the contingent that had come to assemble before them. After the Adventurers in the rear finally caught up, the boy standing in the middle stepped forward to speak.

“Alright~” He said in a cheerful voice. “Good job making it out here! Welcome to the Adventurer’s Tomb~”

The boy threw his hands up excitedly into the air, as if his announcement should be received to great fanfare. The Adventurers simply stared.

“I-I really don’t think that’s a good name…” His sister said off to the side.

“Haaah?” The boy rounded on his sibling with an annoyed look, “It’s for training Adventurers, and it’s a tomb. What’s wrong with that?”

“But it sounds like they’re just coming here to die!” She tearfully protested.

The boy laughed; his light voice carrying over the wind.

“It’s not like they’ll be dying all the time,” he waved his hand dismissively beside his head as he turned back to the others. “The Adventurers of the Sorcerous Kingdom couldn’t be that weak!”

With the voice of his cowed sister going ‘Uuuu’ in the background, the boy cleared his throat before speaking again, slowly turning his gaze over the men and women of the New Adventurer Guild.

“Anyways…now that you’re all here, let’s–” His voice stopped as he turned his eyes to something that caused him to frown slightly.

Itzal followed his line of sight. The annoying noblewoman was looking down suspiciously at a broken pillar covered in vines. When she leaned slightly closer to inspect it, there was a barely discernible flicking motion from one of the plants. The noblewoman blinked once with a blank look on her face before keeling over.

There was a shimmer in the air as the girl in the black gown appeared to receive the falling noblewoman. She must have been standing at least thirty metres away – how did she get there so quickly?

“「Cure Poison」.”

Kneeling on the grass, she cast a spell, resting the noblewoman’s head on her lap. She looked up towards the Dark Elf siblings with a displeased expression.

“Mare, could you not break my things immediately after I lend them to you?”

“Awawa…” the girl in the skirt fretted, looking nervously about.

The first girl turned her head to level her crimson gaze on the party’s Cleric.

“…and you.” She spoke imperiously, “You are a Cleric, are you not? Were you just going to stand there and stare at a poisoned party member until they simply expired?”

Their Cleric, a young man in his late teens, looked down to his feet with no answer to her reprimand.

“Hey you!”

Itzal jumped as the boy’s voice came up from his side. He had been paying attention to ongoing exchange and did not notice the Elf’s approach. He turned his head to look down at the boy. The young Elf’s hands were on his hips and he looked up at him with a miffed expression.

“You’re the scout for that party, aren’t you? It’s your job to make sure that things like that don’t happen!”

What! How is this my fault? Why is this midget of an Elf talking down to me? That noble bitch!

He struggled to keep a lid on his rising temper, but the act of doing so just seemed to make it worse.

“Should we heal her?” Mare asked quietly.

“Hum…”

Her brother rubbed his head while he seemed to think on their situation. After a minute, his frown turned upside down and he clapped his hands to gain the attention of the assembled Adventurers again.

“Time to start our first Adventure!” He declared in a bright voice, “You’ve entered the territory of an unknown tribe. One of your negotiators is down, and they’re angry at you for trespassing on their territory!”

“…what happened?” The noblewoman finally came to, weakly rising to her feet.

“Um, casualties aren’t supposed to move,” Mare said timidly, holding her staff towards her.

Vines exploded out of the ground at the noblewoman’s feet, rapidly wrapping themselves tightly around her body. She let out something resembling a squeak as the vines covered her from head to toe and she fell back down.

“What are you saying, kid?” A Gold-plate from another party asked, “We’re supposed to be training in the tomb, right?”

“Huh? But you’re already in the tomb?” The Elf boy replied.

“That’s the tomb, isn’t it?” The man pointed to the entrance of the ruins, “We’re just standing in a bunch of trees.”

“What kinda crazy thing are you saying?” The Elf boy gave the Adventurer a look one might have bestowed upon a mental invalid, “Any proper tomb would have trees.”

A rock sailed over tall grass, bouncing off of the Adventurer’s armour. Another followed, striking a nearby mage in the jaw and sending him sprawling to the ground.

“What! Who threw that!”

“It came from the edge of the meadow!”

The Adventurers who carried shields raised them warily. Another rock flew in from a slightly different direction and one of their archers retaliated. The arrow disappeared into the grass; there was no indication that it had hit anything.

“Aaanyways, like I said: the tribe is angry, so here’s your objective...”

The Dark Elf’s smile turned into a broad grin…but it did not reach his eyes.

“Survive!”

Birthright: Act 4, Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Yet another stone, larger than a man’s fist, flew out towards the Adventurer contingent. It sailed into their midst, clipping an unfortunate Druid in the shoulder. She was knocked off of her feet, turning once in midair before the thick grass muffled her landing.

“I see them!” A Silver-plate Ranger called out, “Three Ogres: edge of the trees to the west!”

With a face to their enemy, the more experienced Adventures fell into routines developed from years of their craft. The arrangement of the contingent reorganized itself into a more defensible formation.

“It can’t just be Ogres,” Moknach said. “They’ll need a lot more than that to deal with all of us.”

Moknach stepped to the front of the group, standing closest to the treeline to present himself as the closest target for the Ogres. More large stones came hurtling in, but he easily sidestepped them. Something darted out of the tall grass and he shifted his arm slightly to deflect it with his shield. The object broke and its pieces spun repeatedly in the air before landing on the ground: it was an arrow.

Seeing that the threat had escalated from rocks clumsily hurled at a distance he advanced, tracing the flight of the arrow back to its source. A rustle in the grass to the side was the only warning he received before a metal spearhead jabbed out at him. With a curse, he pivoted to evade the gleaming point. When the spear seemingly reached the fullest point of its extension, he swatted it to the side with his longsword and advanced on his new assailant.

He had taken perhaps two steps when another arrow zipped out and pinged off of the ridge of his helmet. Moknach glanced towards the hidden archer and decided that the crude-looking stone points couldn’t penetrate his armour. It was all the time the hidden spear wielder needed, however: in the second it took Moknach to turn his attention back to his closest opponent, it was already gone.

“Shit,” he cursed again before shouting to the others nearby. “Goblins probably. At least two…well there’s never just two.”

A stone from the treeline hit him square in the back, and he staggered to one knee. A spear lanced out from the grass again towards his face and he barely rolled away in time.

“The hell!” He roared as he straightened to his feet again, “What are the rest of you doing? Clear this grass so we can take out this trash!”

“On it!” A woman called out, stepping forward with her staff extended. “「 Fireba–”

She remained motionless, extending her staff out towards the field, but the spell had been cut off. After a moment, the mage lowered her magical focus and pointed at her lips with her free hand. While doing so, an arrow appeared in her shoulder, then another in her thigh. When her shock passed, she cried out with a pained expression – not that anyone could hear her. A nearby Adventurer ran out and grabbed her, holding his shield above their heads as they scurried away.

“She got silenced!” Someone recognized the gesture before the mage was attacked, “They have a caster out there too!”

“A Goblin caster? You’re kidding me.”

“Could be a Cleric, or a Bard.”

There were several different types of casters that were capable of casting Silence – a second-tier spell – or effects similar to it.

“Spare me the Goblin Bard…”

There was loose laughter between the more experienced Adventurers. The Copper plates scattered around the ruin wore uncomprehending expressions: how could anyone laugh when they were being attacked like this?

“I think we can take this, Moknach,” Blair, a Druid from Rainbow, who was leading a different party said. “Doesn’t look like their equipment is any better than regular stuff. No poison, either. If we can flush them out, we have the advantage – if they thought they had the edge in numbers, they would have tried to overwhelm us with this ambush.”

“Do it,” Moknach nodded.

The mage, who had just been healed by Blair, popped her head out of the grass. She didn’t give herself away this time.

“「Fireball」!”

The mage disappeared into the grass again as soon as she finished casting the spell. A compact sphere of flame shot out and landed in the rough area where the arrows had come from. A torrent of fire whirled out from the point of impact, scorching away the grass covering the area to the west and setting the surrounding field ablaze.

“We get any?” Moknach shouted over the wind.

“I don’t know, I doubt it with the way that they’ve been moving though!”

Several arrows whistled in from the north, disappearing in the grass near where the mage had cast her Fireball from.

“Guess that answers that,” Moknach said. “How many do you have left?”

“Plenty where that came from,” the mage replied from where she had crawled off to after casting her spell.

“Alright, clear the field to the north,” Moknach told her. “We can’t go chasing these Goblins around without leaving the newbies undefended, but at least we can deny them any cover nearby.”

The mage unleashed another Fireball, and Moknach’s mind worked to come up with a decisive advantage. Though the initial surprise of the attack had faded, it was still pretty much a standoff against unknown numbers.

“Oi, oi, oi, oi!” A Silver-ranked Ranger called out, “Ogres in the back! They used the smoke from the west field to get in and flank us!”

There were cries of panic in the rear of the formation as the trio of three metre tall Ogres descended on the Copper plates. They brandished makeshift clubs formed out of heavy branches, waving them menacingly as they closed distance. Over a dozen Adventurers immediately scattered at the intimidating sight, and the Ogres roared as they swatted aside the few who stood their ground like stuffed dolls.

Several Silver and Gold-ranked Adventurers within range raised their bows, releasing arrows in an effort to slow down the rampaging Ogres. The arrows that should have made their mark stopped in mid-air, a hand’s breadth away from their targets, before falling harmlessly to the ground.

“The Ogres are warded from arrows!”

“Casters again?” Moknach growled.

The safest method of dealing with physically powerful opponents like Ogres was to take them down from range. It was a common tactic, but Moknach had never before seen Ogres counter it with Protection from Arrows before. The result was that it turned the normally manageable Ogres into a much riskier adversary; full of unknowns stemming from the existence of support magic from the unseen casters.

“Get in there and protect the newbies!” He barked out to the surrounding Adventurers, “We don’t know what we’re fighting, and this is becoming too chaotic: we need to withdraw and regroup.”

Even as he called the retreat, the next gust of wind blanketed them in thick smoke. Moknach and what was formerly the entire front line of veteran Adventurers could barely see in front of them through the stinging screen. As he blindly stepped forward, coughing and squeezing the tears from his eyes, he kicked something soft that responded with an angry, muffled noise. Looking at his feet he saw the woman, still covered in vines, who had set off the entire sequence of events.

With a long-suffering sigh, Moknach tossed her over his shoulder and trudged off towards the chaos in the rear. By the time he made his way out of the blanket of smoke, the formation of Adventurers had collapsed entirely. The Copper plates had continued fleeing after they had been scattered by the Ogre assault, and were now all over the field running towards E-Rantel. Exhausted from their hour-long run to the meeting spot, they were not fast enough to outpace the hidden archers harrying them along the way. They fell one after another as Goblin arrows found their targets.

The Iron plates – who should have been able to handily stand up to the three Ogres with even odds – seemed to have been beaten down one at a time.

With the lower-ranked Adventurers out of the fight, the veterans shifted their focus from attempting to protect their scattered charges to dealing with their ambushers. The Gold-ranked Fighter was at the front of the Vanguard, advancing with his Greatsword in an aggressive high guard. A Silver-ranked Ranger shadowed him, waiting for an opportune moment to strike in melee.

The Fighter blocked the massive overhead swing of the first Ogre using 「 Fortress」. As it reeled from the block, which would have felt like striking a stone wall, he released the defensive Martial Art and shifted to offence. He roared, advancing to deliver a massive blow to the still-recovering Ogre.

“「Sla–”

A volley of brilliant lights streamed out of the grass towards the Fighter. Moknach instantly recognized them as projectiles from the Magic Arrow spell. There were two sources: each two salvos of three arrows, meaning that there were at least two tier three casters hiding in the grass. The twelve flaring projectiles were unerring; the Fighter groaned and collapsed in the direction of his momentum. The Ranger, caught off guard by the unexpected loss as he tried to flank one of the Ogres, was himself flanked and summarily pounded into the grass.

All that remained were the veterans who were returning from the front line. There was Rainbow – Moknach’s regular Mithril-rank team – the Platinum-rank mage, and a Gold-rank Bard. Their adversary consisted of the three Ogres, two – no, probably three casters, two who were at least tier three, whatever it was that kept harassing him with the spear and at least two archers.

By his estimation, the remaining Adventurers should still easily come out on top. The magic casters could still cause things to go awry, so he slowed down and went wide around the tall grass that they appeared to be depending on for concealment. Purposely stalking in a circle, he joined up with his partner Josin – a Mithril-ranked Monk who could act flexibly as either a vanguard or makeshift defender, depending on what the situation warranted.

“You still good to go?” Moknach asked him.

“Not a scratch,” Josin replied.

Moknach nodded. They were in good shape for a brawl if it came down to it, and time was on their side. He made a challenging gesture at the trio of Ogres still standing in range of the grass, but they only mocked him in response. That was strange. Ogres usually gleefully entered battle heedless of risk if they felt that they had the advantage. Well, he supposed that they didn’t…but they shouldn’t have been able to puzzle that out from numbers alone.

He turned to the mage, fishing around his memory for her name.

“Ilma.”

“It’s Ilyn,” she scowled.

“Uh, right,” Moknach said apologetically. “Do you have anything that can whittle those guys down? They seem to have a lot of magical support.”

“Hmm…I have about half of my mana left,” Ilyn replied. “I can’t tell what other enchantments they have on them, though. Shouldn’t I just Fireball them if they’re all standing together like that?”

“They already know you have Fireball,” he told her, “so these casters might have already guarded against it. Just put some hurt on them – maybe those Ogres will finally get mad enough to charge beyond the range of their support.”

“Right-o…”

Ilyn edged forward into range. The Ogres stood their ground, meaning that they were probably standing between their casters and the Adventurers. They couldn’t open the way to them, but their own casters would have to come forward out of the grass to retaliate against her.

“「Magic Arrow」.”

She sent out the first-tier spell, and they awaited the results. Three bolts of dazzling light flew out of her hands, striking the leftmost Ogre. It grinned back at her.

“That didn’t look like it did damage,” Moknach examined the result. “More magical protection?”

“Nuh-uh,” Ilyn replied, “that definitely stung. He’s putting up an act.”

“「Magic Arrow」.”

The Wizard delivered another salvo of magical bolts, striking the same Ogre. This time, a pair of arrows were launched out of the grass towards the city. They both stopped before sinking into her flesh, dropping impotently to the ground.

“Hah!” Ilyn grinned, “You’re not the only ones that can do that.”

The arrows kept coming, even as she launched a third salvo of magical bolts into the same Ogre. Then, something odd happened. First one stream of arrows stopped, then the other. Not a single individual on the field missed that.

“Ah crap,” Moknach said. “Time’s up: let’s go!”

He dashed forward together with Josin, rapidly closing the distance to the Ogres and riveting their attention on them. There was a strain of discordant notes in the air and he felt himself being filled with a sense of courage and power.

“「Twin Magic – Haste」!”

Ilyn layered an additional enchantment on the two charging Adventurers, augmenting the rapidity of their movement and attacks. Moknach catapulted forward at a tremendous speed, like a bolt loosed from a ballista. If this was the case…

“「Ability Boost」.”

With all the magic that had been piled on him, even his regular attacks would be quite potent. Attacks with Martial Arts would be absurdly so. He aimed for the Ogre in the middle, who appeared to be preparing for the charge with an attack of its own. It didn’t matter to Moknach, though.

“「Invulnerable Fortress」!”

The heavy branch came down on him to no more effect than a feather. Moknach hurtled forward, driving his shoulder into the middle Ogre’s abdomen with the full force of his charge. It flew tens of metres through the air, tumbling away end over end after it landed, leaving a long trail of disturbed grass. Perfectly stable with his Defensive Art active, Moknach pivoted, bringing the full force of his upper body down at the next Ogre; the blade of the longsword traced a shimmering arc overhead.

“「Fortress」.”

The Ogre gave him a smug look as it parried Moknach’s devastating overhead strike.

Well I guess that explains a lot.

Three Ogres usually could not stand against so many Adventurers but, like Human warriors, they could grow in experience, strength and skill as well.

“Ogre Berserkers,” he called out.

“You don’t say?” Josin replied sardonically.

Unlike Moknach, Josin had finished off the left Ogre – a Monk’s relentless flurry of strikes cared little for a few seconds of enhanced defence. Augmented by magic as he was, the lean brawler remained completely unscathed.

It was two versus one now, and Moknach wanted to finish things before it might change again. His sword had gotten stuck in the thick branch – proof that he had attacked with such force it nearly overwhelmed the augmented parry – which the Ogre stubbornly refused to relinquish. Well, that was fine by him.

“Hey Josin,” he said, “weapon’s stuck. Let’s finish this guy o–”

Moknach’s call for assistance was needless, as the Bard appeared behind the Ogre Berserker and casually slashed out the giant Demihuman’s knees from behind with his rapier.

Birthright: Act 4, Chapter 8

Chapter 8

The Ogre’s legs buckled, yanking Moknach down as it tumbled heavily to the ground. Annoyed over its stubborn refusal to let go of the branch, he aimed a kick at the fallen Demihuman.

“This stubborn son of a–”

“That will be enough.”

A new voice turned his attention away. The others also turned their heads as a single figure approached from the direction of the city, dressed in an exquisitely crafted maid outfit bearing similarities to those commonly used by the Sorcerer King’s Household. Though mostly Human in appearance, her head was distinctly not. Her face had the appearance of a dog, stitched together like some sort of patchwork doll that children might find endearing.

“I have deemed that one side has been rendered entirely incapable of fighting,” she announced. “This exercise is at an end.”

Before anyone could respond, the maid spread her arms to cast a spell.

“「Widen Magic – All Greater Heal」.”

Streams of radiant energy fell over the field, caressing the prone figures in the combat area around them. Each stirred and slowly stood from where they had fallen. The Adventurers who had fought all the way to the end gaped at the effects of the spell. As everyone regained their feet, Blair stammered for several moments before finally managing to speak.

“Heal is a Sixth-tier spell,” his voice was filled with awe. “Only divine casters of legend could manage it. This, I don’t even know what–”

“All Greater Heal is a Ninth-tier spell,” the maid replied, making her way over to the Ogre that Josin had downed in his overwhelming assault. “...it will not recover the slain, however.”

She looked down at the corpse for a moment, then took a step back.

“「True Resurrection」.”

Before their eyes, the battered Ogre opened its eyes and struggled to its feet. Though it looked somewhat shaky, it bore none of the brutal punishment that Josin had inflicted upon it. Blair’s knees folded under him, and he looked up from the ground.

“W-who are you?” He asked weakly, “I’ve never seen – no, I’ve never even heard of such powerful magic. This is the purview of the gods!”

“Is that so?” The maid replied with a mysterious smile on her veiled face, “Well, far be it from me to make any claims to godhood. I am Pestonya, a humble servant of His Majesty the Sorcerer King…woof. As I am currently stationed in the city, I have been instructed to provide support for the Adventurer Guild when necessary. Rest assured, you need not worry overly much in your training: as you can see, even death is but a temporary setback.”

Pestonya made to return towards the city, but paused and turned back momentarily to deliver an afterthought.

“I would advise against being overly reckless, however. As you may know, resurrection services carry various costs. The material expenses are currently allocated as a part of the Adventurer Guild’s budget, but your guildmaster may have some unkind things to say if you squander his resources…woof.”

As Pestonya’s figure receded into the distance, the combatants looked around to each other somewhat uncomfortably until a woman popped out of the grass, startling the two Ogres nearby.

“Iiiyah~ That was really something, wasn’t it?” Merry, the missing member of Rainbow said with a note of satisfaction in her voice, “I haven’t had that much fun in a while!”

The unofficial strongest member of Rainbow, Merry was an Orichalcum-rank Ranger. A combatant who specialized in hunting the Undead of Katze Plains, she was also a generally devastating force on her favoured terrain. Seeing that she had vanished the instant the fighting broke out, Moknach had worked on the hunch that she would eventually track down and eliminate all of their opponents hidden in the grass. The first indication that his wager had paid off was the abrupt cessation of the attacks from the two concealed archers.

“How many were there?” Josin asked curiously.

“Hm…there were two archers, two mages – they were easy,” she looked around at the aftermath of the battle. “The Goblin with the spear was pretty tough to take out.”

“Wasn’t there another one?”

“Yeah, there was a Cleric near the Ogres keeping them alive while they were fighting…I could only get in close after you charged in. We knocked each other out though.”

Merry laughed, pulling blades of loose grass out of her nest of unruly red hair. Her disposition always seemed to match her name, making her appear much younger than she probably was. She was an Adventurer that had worked out of E-Rantel for as long as its people could remember: a wild, battle-maniac of an Elf who could never settle on a number for her age.

Nearly all the members of the training exercise were headed for the city at this point, except for one. While Pestonya’s magic had returned everyone to a healthy state, it did not free the entangled noblewoman. Entwined from head to toe, save for her nose which peeked out from a small gap in the vines, she had seemingly sensed that combat had ended and occasionally tried to wiggle free. She couldn’t struggle much, as she was bound up with a spear and bow staff flat against her body, and it made her look something like a caterpillar on a twig.

“I’ve never seen a Twine Plant spell last for this long,” Blair noted as Moknach threw the noble-turned-caterpillar over his shoulder again. “Could it be that even that young Elf lass is a powerful Druid?”

“Don’t ask me,” Moknach grunted as he shifted his weight. “I don’t even know what to think any more. Shouldn’t a Druid know better than a Fighter like me?”

Several people awaited the returning Adventurers as they approached the city gates along the wall, looking out towards the group. The Dark Elf siblings, guildmasters Pluton Ainzach and Theo Raksheer, and a Goblin in grand silken robes holding a feathered white fan. Moknach set his burden down before he walked up to the awaiting group.

“Oi, Mare,” the Dark Elf boy jabbed his sister with an elbow.

“Auh!” She jumped, startled, “What? Why…”

Her brother gestured towards the entangled noble on the ground with his chin.

The Dark Elf girl motioned with her staff and the vines withered away; their remaining fragments disappearing into the soil. Finally free of her constraints, the ‘negotiator’ who had become a casualty for the entire battle collected her things. Under the combined scrutiny of the assembled Adventurers, she made herself scarce with a mortified expression.

Moknach turned his attention back to the matter at hand.

“Well,” he said with a hopeful voice, “we survived. What do we win?”

Ainzach sighed.

The Adventurers were dismissed to clean themselves up and the party leaders reconvened later that afternoon. Around the large meeting table on the second floor of the Adventurer Guild were Moknach, Blair, Josin and Merry from Rainbow; the Wizard Ilyn and Utrecht, the Gold-plate Fighter that had been taken down by the Magic Arrow barrage. The group that had awaited them at the gate was also present.

“Where’s that healer…Pestonya, was it?” Moknach turned his head to glance towards the stairs, “The other girl from the ruins as well – they’re not coming?”

“Pestonya went back to help oversee the construction of the new orphanage,” the Elf boy answered him. “Shalltear is working on her assignment from Lord Ainz. She was just dropping off some...things for the tomb.”

The familiarity by which he spoke of the Sorcerer King made Mokank realize that these two Elves were also probably from the Sorcerous Kingdom’s mysterious place of origin. No one that he had spoken to seemed to know where that was, exactly. As far as most people knew, he had made some sort of claim on E-Rantel: one which nobody had the slightest clue about, even Merry.

“And you are…”

“This is Aura,” Ainzach filled in, “and her brother, Mare. The other gentleman here is the Goblin Strategist. I met him a few days ago and he agreed to help out with the Guild’s training once in a while.”

The Goblin Strategist lowered his head respectfully in greeting. The two Dark Elf children simply stood and waited.

“Eh? Eh?! Eh!!!” Merry rose from her seat, “This cutie is a boy?!”

Merry leaned towards Mare to examine him more closely.

“This works?” She tilted her head curiously, “Yes, it works! Hehehe…”

The boy dressed in girl’s clothing shrunk away from Merry’s intense gaze, leaning away to cower behind his sister. Ainzach cleared his throat.

“You can do this later,” he spoke in a serious tone. “We have work to do.”

“That’s right!” Aura put her hands on her hips with a cross expression, “What was that, even?”

“I advised against throwing Adventurers straight into something like this,” Ainzach said. “They still need to get a feel for each of the other members, as well as the new way we do things. I’ll agree that the whole exercise went much worse than I had expected, though.”

“It was terrible!” Aura slapped a hand on the table repeatedly, “Thirty Adventurers against nine Goblins and Ogres, and only seven of you survived – that’s including the casualty that no one even bothered finishing off! This is no good! The New Adventurer Guild won’t be able to do work like this!”

“The projected distribution of losses was spot on in this case, however,” said the Goblin Strategist. “This exercise was to simulate a case where an Adventurer contingent ran afoul of a small but moderately strong tribe of Demihumans. I believe several points presented beforehand were proven to be valid, and few other things have been learned.”

“I agree,” Ainzach followed up on the Strategist’s words with a nod. “The training goals I outlined before we started address the issues we saw today. Many of the ranking standards of the old Adventurer Guild are still relevant to our new mandate. With the support provided by His Majesty, we can ensure that Adventurers fielded in future expeditions are prepared for scenarios far worse than this. If the entire contingent was at least Gold-ranked, familiar with their teams, and well-versed with our operations, this outcome would never have happened…probably.”

As he finished speaking, Ainzach’s gaze turned to Moknach.

“Ah, that’s right, boss,” Merry laughed. “I couldn’t say anything back when it happened since it would have blown my cover, but trying to flush out the Goblins like that was pretty a dumb call. You got played on your home turf!”

Beside him, Blair nodded in agreement while Ilyn looked like she was trying her best to become one with her chair. Moknach screwed up his face in confusion.

“Wait…you mean that entire thing was planned? The way Aura started things off, it sounded like she was improvising.”

“Well, it was a surprise for the tail end of the exercise,” the Goblin Strategist replied. “A little bit of excitement after your basic orientation in the tomb. The group under my orders still needed to improvise the new ambush to press the contingent into making rash decisions.”

Moknach thought back on the sequence of events again and realized where he had screwed up. The wind over the area nearly always came down from the Azerlisia foothills to the north. Lighting the field on fire in an attempt to expose or drive away their ambushers had ultimately backfired on them and the situation had descended into chaos after that point.

“That’s...you worked that out in advance?” Moknach gave the Goblin Strategist a look of appraisal, “That’s pretty damn good.”

“Hohoho, you flatter me,” the Strategist waved his fan lightly. “Knowing how to use fire is one of the basics of the Art of War, after all. In truth, it was the mages in the field that should have started the fires but, since you had willingly sabotaged your own position so thoroughly, they had the spare mana to aid in offence.”

Utrecht winced at the memory; silence hung over the table. In their first training exercise, the Adventurers had made an embarrassingly poor showing. Never mind starting off on good footing towards their stated mandate of exploration: their first step had them land flat on their faces.

The operational procedures of the Adventurer Guild’s expeditions – well, the initial outlines drawn up with input from several of the Sorcerer King’s representatives and a few knowledgeable members of the city’s Guilds where their expertise was warranted – used various concepts which were each easy enough to understand on their own. As a whole, however, they had been woven into a fusion of exploration, diplomacy and projection of national interests which was unprecedented in the history of the Adventurer Guild.

A contingent of regular teams would be dispatched to an unexplored area, where they would establish an expeditionary camp. The five teams assigned to that contingent would use this camp as their base of operations and, over the course of time, work together to compile a comprehensive understanding of the region. This was not simply creating a map of an unexplored area: it was also a thorough assessment of its native populations, cultures, politics, flora and fauna, as well as its economic and strategic potential.

With this being the case, the Adventurer Guild was now recruiting members to include those who possessed the expertise to fulfill various aspects of an operation rather than the previous methods where martial or magical prowess was the sole qualification. The teams sent out as a part of these contingents would be at bare minimum trained to Gold rank, which was currently deemed resilient enough to weather most of the hardships expected from such work. If it was deemed a higher risk area, higher-ranked teams would be assigned. In special cases, a sixth team would be sent out: consisting of a group hand-picked by the Sorcerous Kingdom to support the effort and assist in resolving any outstanding issues.

Moknach had heard of ventures somewhat similar to these expeditions over the years, carried out by illegal Workers and funded by wealthy interests, but what the Sorcerous Kingdom proposed was far above and beyond any such isolated attempts to pilfer wealth and garner fame. The creation of this organization that would, in the future, send countless expeditions staffed by highly trained Adventurers to the far reaches of the world. It was an effort that could only be sustained by a nation – one that was on par with maintaining a powerful standing army.

The day that Ainzach had called together the Guild, several members had called it exactly that: an army. High-ranking Adventurers had the effective strength of mundane armies on their own, and it was difficult for them to accept that so many of these individuals would be organized into an arm of the government. This was central to the reason why the original Adventurer Guild traditionally held itself above the politics of nations, and now that same tradition was being challenged. Many feared that they would simply be a thinly-veiled vanguard; a scouting force for future aggression by the armies of the Sorcerer King into the territories of prospective targets.

A significant portion of the membership had left the city due to this break with accepted practice, but some had still been drawn into the tantalizing vision shared by Pluton Ainzach. Moknach had wondered what the Sorcerer King had planned when he first mentioned it over a week ago, but now he held the firm belief that no one that called themselves an Adventurer could help but feel the draw of his words. To the eldest and most experienced amongst them, his invitation had hit the hardest. They had been in the guild for too long; seen too much: understanding that, without the support of the Sorcerous Kingdom, the romanticized life of adventuring that many ascribed to their profession was simply a dream within a dream.

Understanding this – that this dream could now become reality – had sparked an ember he had long thought dead inside. Directly witnessing the resources that the Sorcerous Kingdom could bring to bear, that ember had been nourished into a flame which entrenched Moknach’s conviction that this dream had become an inevitability. The Adventurer Guild of E-Rantel, once merely one amongst countless other branches, would become The Adventurer Guild and all others would become little more than a shallow pretender to the name.

For this dream, Moknach was willing to take any amount of punishment; undergo any trial. Here, Adventurers in name would become Adventurers in truth, to the awe and envy of the world.

Birthright: Act 4, Chapter 9

Chapter 9

“We can do this,” Moknach said resolutely, clenching his fist. “By the gods, we can do this! Everything is in place; everything is within our grasp. All we need to do is follow the plan and get our members to standard.”

“This is surely the case,” the Goblin Strategist agreed. “Once their lower level charges were out of the picture, the remaining members had no issues dealing with the ambush. I daresay they had already put their plan into action before that: using the very environment we were exploiting against us. If this can be seen as a representation of what an Adventurer contingent is capable of, they should have few issues dealing with the disorganized tribes that have been observed in the Great Forest of Tob closest to the northern borders of this duchy. The proposed standard of ‘Gold’ seems an eminently fair assessment for the threshold where they can commence local operations.”

Several others around the table voiced their agreement.

“You have reservations, Ilyn?” Ainzach said.

The Platinum-rank Wizard, who had been silent for most of the exchange, started, looking up at the faces around the table.

“That’s, uh…the catch is that it assumes that all the new Adventurers we train up are just like us, right?” She began slowly, her hazel eyes unfocused in thought, “But even if we get them up to speed with hard training, there’s still the matter of learning spells, putting together equipment and picking up other magic items. It takes us years to collect all that stuff, and that’s with E-Rantel being a major trade hub. Merchant traffic from the Empire should pick up at some point, but I doubt the Theocracy or Re-Estize will allow merchants to carry anything valuable that we would want into the Sorcerous Kingdom. Even for us veterans, there are problems: a lot of us are specialized for one thing or another, and we’ll have to learn new spells and gather new equipment sets for what we’re going to be doing in the future.”

Ilyn’s points were all valid ones. E-Rantel flourished as a hub of the land trade between three nations, who were each a gateway to other markets even further abroad. With the current disposition of the neighboring states, the trade in magic-related goods that the city received would be mostly from the Empire. Rather than the trade hub that it had been, the city was now more akin to the end of a small trade route that branched out from the Empire. That it was equipment for Adventurers made it exponentially worse than simply importing utility items for civilian use, as items used by Adventurers tended to be highly customized or at least found suitable for the specific niches that they were sought for.

“We lost a lot in the weeks after Katze,” Ainzach admitted. “Magic equipment, scrolls and other items were purposely moved out of the city by various people, and many of our former members left the city with their own equipment and collections as well. It’s true that restoring that end of things will take a long time if we leave things as they are. Does His Majesty have something in mind concerning this?”

Everyone looked to Aura and Mare.

“Hm? It’ll all work out somehow, won’t it?” Aura said with her arms behind her head, “You should just trust Lord Ainz on this – I’m sure he has something in the works already.”

It wasn’t really an answer, but there was no reason to doubt her words. To those who had a sense for it, all of the subordinates of the Sorcerer King – down to even the Household servants – appeared to be adorned in powerful magic equipment. Securing a reliable source of spells and various items was surely a minor matter by comparison.

Mare looked to his sister and he opened and closed his mouth several times, appearing like he wanted to say something. Aura shot him an annoyed look.

“A-anyways…”

There was a great deal of uncertainty carried in Mare’s voice. Or was that how he spoke normally? Moknach hadn’t seen him speak with much confidence at all in the past few hours.

“We should start as soon as possible,” Mare told them. “The starting sections of the training area are still being expanded, but a few segments for Copper and Iron-rank Adventurers are ready to be used. We don’t have the right Iron ranks to make a proper party, so we should focus on getting the Copper Adventurers to Iron so then they can get going as well.”

It was a straightforward plan that left little room for debate. Copper ranks traditionally experienced the highest rate of turnover in the high-stakes career of Adventuring. Whether they found they weren’t cut out for it, discovered that it did not match their expectations or simply died in some unglamorous way, it was not a rank at which one stayed for long.

As one of the changes to the Adventurer Guild, all members received a stipend for their living expenses in order to keep them as part of the available pool of party members for future expeditions. Though unlikely to happen, it inadvertently created a possibility where one could stay at Copper for an indefinite period of time by not taking the initiative to advance. Moknach agreed that this was a situation to avoid, and thought that filtering out new recruits quickly by pushing them through training was the prudent course of action. They should be put through their paces and advance to Iron as quickly as possible. Those that were incapable of doing so would be discharged and a suitable use for their abilities would be found in civilian life.

Since it was known that Copper ranks generally did not survive attempts at resurrection, it was also actually the riskiest period for the Guild’s members. It was due to this fact that the pace of training for new members would be slow, in order to minimize unnecessary risks and accidentally lose promising recruits. As the Adventurer Guild grew in renown, the influx of hopeful applicants could potentially result in a sort of bottleneck in the training process.

Merry raised her hand and everyone turned their attention to her. It was a strange habit of hers, but it always seemed to work for some reason.

“You got anything for us?” She asked hopefully, “I’m ready to go too!”

The members of Rainbow made groaning noises. Moknach hoped the idea that death was no longer an obstacle had not turned her into even more of a battle maniac than she already was. Being a Ranger that specialized in hunting the Undead, she had driven her team to wit’s end during the tense weeks after E-Rantel was annexed. She would quietly stare out of the window of the team’s accommodations, sizing up all the Undead patrolling the city.

Merry would talk to no one in particular while fiddling with her expensive magical arrows, saying things like ‘See that clueless Lich flying around? One shot’. Or ‘That cocky one with the shield…I can take him’. Even the usually calm Josin was plainly on edge after days of wondering whether she would just start attacking Undead from their apartment window, and Moknach had decided it would be safer to just bring them to the Adventurer Guild every day instead.

Every time someone said Tomb, he was afraid to look in her direction, imagining her excitement over having an unlimited source of Undead to destroy for ‘training’.

“Well,” Aura replied, “there is something, but the floors have been arranged for parties of six. If just the four of you go into an area meant for six mithril ranks, you’ll probably die.”

She looked over their team, her eyes pausing at each member before moving on again.

“Except for her,” she motioned to Merry. “She can probably get away. The rest of you are dead for sure, though.”

“Er…do we really have to die?” Blair asked, “Seems a bit extreme, being training and all.”

“Hah? You think anyone out to get you when you’re on an expedition is going to go all easy on you?”

“Well, no, but…”

“How much does resurrection magic cost, anyways?” Utrecht asked, “If I recall correctly, Lakyus from Blue Rose charges quite a lot for it.”

“A lot,” answered Ainzach. “You really don’t want to know. If it wasn’t for the subsidy from the Sorcerous Kingdom, you’d be paying back the cost of the cheapest resurrection over years with the earnings of a Gold-rank. ”

Utrecht swallowed upon hearing the Guildmaster’s words.

“What do you mean by the ‘cheapest’?” Ilyn shifted in her seat slightly and leaned forward, “What’s the difference?”

“Well, it’s not exactly a secret for Raise Dead but, if I have it right, it’s a pretty big hit to your effectiveness as an Adventurer that you’ll have to make up for with training. As I understand it, the effect is significantly reduced the higher the tier of the spell, but it also becomes exorbitantly expensive at the highest tier. We settled on 7th Tier Resurrection as the best balance between cost and rehabilitation time – it’s around twice as expensive as Raise Dead, but it also comes with fewer restrictions in case something unexpected happens.”

The absurdity of Ainzach’s words only seemed to be matched by the ridiculousness of how smoothly the members around the table digested everything…though it was probably more likely that no one truly could. A couple of months ago, not in Moknach’s wildest dreams would anyone be ‘settling’ for a 7th tier spell – a realm of magic considered beyond Human reach. Now, magics beyond what one would consider Legendary were being incorporated into the Adventurer Guild’s planning, and the only points which could be discussed were the results of such magic and their budgetary concerns.

Even when presented to their faces, the power of the Sorcerous Kingdom was so far removed from their previous reality that Moknach thought only Legends could appreciate the full weight of everything: the more ignorant one was of such things, the more insulated they were from the truth. Never mind what went into being able to cast Resurrection or True Resurrection, Moknach’s mind could only frame it the same way Ainzach had – more expensive versions of the only spell they could relate it to, with fewer downsides.

By and large, the people of the Sorcerous Kingdom were all in a similar state of mind: they were like ants building a nest in the cracks of a city street, uncomprehending of the civilization towering around them.

“At any rate,” Ainzach told them, “try not to die; it’s expensive. If the administration sees a spike in resurrection costs, they’re going to start wondering if we’re being frivolous with their subsidy. We’ve also considered using Raise Dead for people repeatedly dying in stupid ways that they shouldn’t be: we’ll be putting them through hell and back to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

“I wonder what Blue Rose does to get their members back up to full fighting strength,” Utrecht wondered.

“Beats me,” Josin said. “It’s probably not a stroll through a garden, though.”

“If it’s really that expensive,” Ilyn said, “shouldn’t we try to avoid training deaths? You can do a lot with that kind of coin.”

“That’s true,” said Ainzach. “The money could go to securing magic items through trade channels, or something along those lines…what do you think?”

Ainzach turned his head to look at Aura beside him, whose lips had formed into a pouty frown.

“I-I think they have a point, big sis…” Mare said to her side.

“Ah, whatever!” Aura threw up her hands, “I don’t know why I’m the one that has to answer everything anyways. The tomb is Mare’s job – I just came to help out.”

She rounded on her brother with a hand on her hip.

“Just make sure you don’t keep Lord Ainz waiting for your results.”

“Wha–! Saying that isn’t fair, big sis!”

As his sister got up and turned to leave, Mare looked down to his lap making a worried Uuuu sound.

“Well,” the Goblin Strategist said as he slid off his chair and onto his feet, “I believe I shall take my leave as well.”

“When’s our next match?” Moknach asked as the Strategist walked around the table.

“Hoh…you wish to challenge us again?” The Strategist responded, his mouth hidden by his fan.

“Leaving it at this would be unsatisfying,” Moknach smirked. “Next time, we won’t be such poor hosts.”

“Well, it would be best if you reach the standard that you’ve outlined before we face each other again.” The Goblin Strategist nodded, “I have many more new recruits that would be glad for the chance to test their mettle, and I believe there will be much to learn for both sides. I will look forward to our next match.”

He descended down the stairs lightly, leaving Mare with the members of the Adventurer Guild.

“So…what was the takeaway from all that?” Josin wondered.

“That we’re on the right track,” Ainzach said. “Now, all we need to do is follow through and prove it. I’ll get a Copper team together. We can start after dinner, if that’s alright with you.”

“I-I’ll be waiting,” Mare nodded.

“I’d like to watch how things go,” Moknach said. “Is there any way to do that?”

“There’s a place where people can watch what’s going on,” Ainzach replied, “I wanted you six to come along, anyways. We can meet there when everything’s ready.”

Ainzach looked around at the remaining members.

“I trust that no one wants to miss this? Good. We’ll meet in a few hours – I’ll send out runners after I figure out what this team’ll look like.”

Birthright: Act 4, Chapter 10

Chapter 10

“The meal is growing cold, my lady.”

Ludmila reached out absently for her spoon. The congealed porridge came out in a sticky clump over her spoon, and she left the utensil in her mouth as she continued to work through one document after another at the dining room table.

The Adventurer Guild exercise had taken up hours of her day, starting late in the morning. The participants went their separate ways in the mid-afternoon, after they were dismissed to review on the events of the session. After a thorough scrubbing and a fresh change of clothes the odor of charred grass still clung to her, and the sensation of the vines that had constricted themselves around her body still remained. At least someone had been nice enough to heal her after she had been painfully kicked in her helpless state.

Placing the spoon back in its porcelain bowl, Ludmila sighed at the fresh memory of her misadventure with the Adventurer Guild. She had been strung up and smoked like a piece of meat, essentially useless for whatever had happened. It certainly wasn’t a good first impression to make, and she dreaded the reception that awaited her the next time she participated in their activities.

During her time away since the morning, Nonna’s Imp had scribed a small pile of documents: reports, requests and questions passed from the Elder Lich in Warden’s Vale to the city manor through her familiar. Communications from her attaché did not come at a set time or pace, instead arriving whenever there was new information to convey and added to the long scrawl of notes on the continuous stream of pages. Day or night, rain or shine, the Imp would scribe the information from its perch – she had found what she thought was supposed to be a wooden stand for pet birds in the plaza markets – in the letter room as long as it had the means to do so.

It was a pile of tasks better taken care of sooner rather than later, and it was beyond the idea that she needed to have it done before the various workshops and other businesses around the city would close for the day.

With their late start to the season, nearly every fief in the duchy was pressing the city with their demands for spring goods. Shortfalls in the Human workforce that had fled from the territories had been promptly shored up with requests for Undead labour and the demand for tools and various other pieces of equipment remained roughly the same as the previous year. It appeared that many nobles were indeed struggling with balancing Undead labourers with tenants, however, as nowhere near the number of them that could potentially have been fielded were – as far as she had heard, anyways.

With the six-odd week gap where the citizens of the Sorcerous Kingdom awaited, uncertain of their future, came a massive backlog of orders from the various industries throughout the duchy, which was in turn suffering from shortages of skilled labour and raw materials that were usually imported from other regions. Compounding this problem even further was the fact that an entire city quarter was now slated for reconstruction, creating competition for resources that were already scarce. The heavier work in the quarter was accomplished by large stone golems sourced by the Sorcerous Kingdom, but the project still drew away hundreds of artisans, architects, carpenters, masons and engineers.

It was finding these professional craftsmen that was Ludmila’s most pressing concern for her demesne. The trickle of migration to her demesne would fill all of the available housing by the end of the season, and any new arrivals would start having to live in tents. It was not the welcome she wanted to give to the precious few people that she managed to attract to her far-flung territory. She needed skilled labour who could build warm and sturdy homes for her people, as well as new warehouses, silos and watch stations for the new settlements. She needed to start work on the smith and the mill. She needed to refurbish the old roads and bridges. She had no idea where to even look for a shipwright in the land-locked duchy.

As all these needs for the fief piled upon her, the inexorable march of time continued. At one point she had sent a message to Lady Shalltear, hoping that her liege knew of some way to secure any, or knew anyone who did. She had simply replied that the resources that she knew of, used by Lady Aura in the past to construct some basic structures, had been snatched away for the work in the new Demihuman quarter by the Guardian Overseer. Lady Albedo was now styled the Prime Minister of the Sorcerous Kingdom in order for her position to be more easily understood by the local Human populations of the region.

The information passed on to the Nobles a few days earlier gave Ludmila hope that she could perhaps bring in expertise from other lands, but that would need to wait until the new relationship between the Sorcerous Kingdom and the Empire was made public and traffic between the two nations resumed in full. The nobility had entered into a frenzy at the news and the preparations ordered for the duchy. The near term policies for improving the overall state of the realm – matters of presentation and prestige – were, at long last, something they could comfortably wrap their heads around; something they could apply themselves towards with zeal in the vast sea of change.

Admittedly, it was not something that Ludmila could grasp as well as the others. Fortunately, her own demesne was far from anywhere that visitors to the city would travel through. For her part, it made finding the people that she needed for development even harder. At least she had little to worry about when it came to revenues: so far it seemed that the projections for her crops were roughly on track, which would leave her with an unprecedented amount of capital to work with after she delivered the summer harvest.

Related to this was the matter of taxes. She had not broached the subject with Lady Shalltear yet, but it was a regular clause in the contract between liege and vassal. As basic and essential as it was, however, she felt hollow with the idea that it was the only thing she could offer. The history of their short relationship so far could be summed up as Ludmila knowing too little and needing too much, a one-sided dependency on Lady Shalltear and the resources of the Sorcerous Kingdom rather than the proper relationship between noble and liege.

Her duty and purpose as a Frontier Noble had been rendered utterly obsolete by the realities of the Sorcerous Kingdom: leaving behind an empty void at the core of her identity. Even with her daily life pressing her with tasks she only had just enough time to attend to, it seemed to gnaw away at her very soul: a hunger insatiable by the endless march of day to day administrative tasks.

Ludmila shoved the selfish worries that came uninvited back into their hiding place. She finished one document, added it to the pile and picked up a new one, continuing to sort through the information scrawled on the sequence of parchments and writing out the appropriate instructions and orders to be delivered to the city’s merchants. She was two-thirds of the way through, but she just knew that there would be one or two more awaiting her in the letter room when she finished these off.

“Luzi,” she said without looking up from her work, “check the letter room for anything new.”

“Right away, my lady,” her maid replied.

Re-Estize had always been a nation where information only travelled as fast as it could be physically delivered. Warden’s Vale would normally need to wait nearly two weeks for information to travel to E-Rantel and back. Communication between the city and her demesne now, however, was as fast as Nonna’s familiar – whose mind was linked to its far away master – could scribe it. The smooth flow of information that resulted changed many things for the better, but it came with its own pitfalls as well.

Ludmila suspected she would need to hire assistants at some point to help organize and regulate the flow of information, as she seemed to be developing terrible habits surrounding it. The Undead did not require rest, so Nonna would work at all hours of the day: meaning that information could come in at all hours of the day. While Ludmila was in the city, she would constantly check the letter room for anything new. She even found herself laying awake at night wondering what news the Imp had added to be read in the morning, resisting the temptation to head down and take a look.

Considering Nonna’s generally excellent performance, she could probably do with another Elder Lich for the city manor once it was busy enough to justify. It would certainly free up a significant amount of time: only important decisions would need Ludmila’s input once the new assistant got used to things. Hopefully Nonna wouldn’t get jealous. Perhaps she would be glad for a colleague?

“There were two more, my lady,” Aemilia said as she returned to the dining room table.

Ludmila glanced over the new arrivals. Like the others, each was filled with an assortment of information that Nonna had deemed worth reporting. In addition to an Elder Lich for city business, converting the hall of the manor into a proper office would also be necessary. She imagined that a year’s worth of this paperwork would fill several large shelves and require dozens of binders to organize the information into. As her demesne grew, it would probably turn into a small archive.

After several more minutes, she was finally caught up with her work. Taking a deep breath and releasing it, she reviewed the outgoing documents one last time before addressing Aemilia.

“Have Rodney take these three to the Merchant Guild,” Ludmila indicated one set of orders for goods and replacement parts.

With the chaotic atmosphere that accompanied the frenzied activity of the Duchy, the Merchant Guild had taken it upon itself to organize its members’ activity to meet the ever-growing demands that the city faced. Orders need only be delivered to the Guild, and the appropriate businesses that were available would bid on the work. It was a godsend, as Ludmila had not found merchants to hire for her own demesne yet: she would be constantly trying to second-guess every transaction if not for this.

“Send Terrence to deliver this to the Wagner manor,” she indicated a freshly sealed letter, then an application form, “and this one to the civil office. The rest are for Nonna.”

Two Human footmen had been hired on by her Housekeeper though, at a certain point before that, Ludmila was uncertain that she even needed them. Once the maids had become accustomed to working with the two Death Knights that had originally come alongside them, the results convinced her that there would be few problems employing them in the full capacity of footmen for her household.

Various places around the city begged to differ, however. When she used them to perform official duties around the city, they worked extraordinarily well – too well, in fact. Ludmila had sent one to deliver various orders to the Merchant Guild weeks before, and it experienced little wait time since it scattered the queue with its presence. She received a barrage of complaints from various interests around the city after that and the two footmen were hired as a result: Human servants that were required since many were still unable to interact with the Undead. As her own people became accustomed to them over time she imagined that the citizens would eventually as well, but foreigners that she might need to deal with in the future were another matter entirely.

As Aemilia left to send the Human footmen off, one of the Death Knights appeared at the entrance to the dining room. Her maid took a message into her hands and, after dismissing it with a word of thanks, she turned back around to deliver it to Ludmila.

“It’s from the Adventurer Guild, my lady,” Aemilia said, placing the piece of paper to the side of Ludmila’s work.

Ludmila reached over to pick up the folded note, flipping it open to read over the contents.

“They’re requesting my presence at the guildhall in thirty minutes,” set down the note. “It seems that they aren’t done with exercises for the day.”

“Will you be attending, my lady?” Aemilia asked.

Her Lady’s Maid was ecstatic when she first learned that her mistress would be joining the Adventurer Guild: headed off to fulfil whatever wildly gallant vision she had of her. Despite their time together, Aemilia had apparently not given up on building up some fantastical image of her mistress.

“Yes, of course,” Ludmila replied. “We’ll need to prepare immediately. Bring my equipment to the solar, I’ll be right along.”

Aemilia left the room and Ludmila rose from her seat, quickly collecting the scattered documents from around the table and sorting them out into their associated folders. Work in hand, she headed up to her bedchambers, leaving her cold meal behind.

Birthright: Act 4, Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Peering from the plaza into the open entrance of the Adventurer Guild, the building appeared to be unoccupied – save for the fact that it was brightly lit. Upon entering, Ludmila walked by the stairs and turned past the request board to find the two receptionists, Wina and Ishpen, standing at the counter with two different expressions of boredom. Seeing her approach, Ishpen smiled slightly.

“I hear you’ve made a name for yourself,” she said lightly.

“Ergh…don’t remind me,” Ludmila grimaced. “Did I get the wrong message, or am I early?”

Ishpen wrinkled her nose slightly and leaned back as Ludmila approached. Her gambeson had been hung out in the sun when she had returned to the manor, but the two hours it had spent airing out was nowhere near enough to get the odor out from the layers of fabric.

“There’s still a few minutes left,” Ishpen glanced towards the empty area behind her, “…is everyone else going to smell like a burnt field when they come in?”

“Probably,” Ludmila replied. “It’s only been two hours since we got back, so I doubt anyone has been able to air out their equipment properly.”

“Ugh, you had better stop them before they get near the counter. It’s bad enough just being bored.”

Ludmila waved casually to the receptionists as she turned back to the open hall. The conversation they had was not one that might have been expected between a guild receptionist and a Copper-rank Adventurer. Before the changes to the Adventurer Guild, Copper-ranks were – to put it bluntly – a pool of cheap labour with little to no expectations attached to them. The Guild generally did not invest any resources into Copper plates: preferring to instead wait for the few that survived to crawl out of the pile and advance to higher ranks.

The changes still treated the lower ranks as a filter, however; it could be fairly said that the bar had actually been raised since the bare minimum to qualify for the new work of the Guild was now Gold rank. The Sorcerous Kingdom had no use for Adventurers as transient security contractors, so those who failed to achieve the new standard were simply mustered out.

The reason for their amiable relationship – Ludmila considered Ishpen the closest thing to a friend in the Guild – stemmed from their first encounter. Ludmila appreciated her expertise and attention to detail when it came to matters revolving around the Adventurer Guild and she now relied heavily on the receptionist for her knowledge and interpretations on various things. Ishpen was more than happy to accommodate her, so it appeared that they got along very well.

As she went back past the stairs leading to the second floor, she saw several Adventurers enter through the doorway.

“Oh, looks like the sixth was Lady Bagworm.”

A tall, blonde man at the front of the group called out as he entered at the head of the group. His broad shoulders blocked Ludmila’s view of the others who filed in behind him.

“Henrich!” A woman’s voice hissed from the door.

Another man and three women followed, each sporting a Copper tag fastened around their necks. As the newly-mandated Adventurer Guild had not yet organized themselves to the point where basic equipment was standardized. Each of the Adventurers still wore a mix of equipment that fell along the lines of what a Copper plate traditionally wore: which was simply what they were able to afford. Roughly speaking, it was the same sort of equipment that Ludmila wore, save for one who looked to be a mage.

“Hmm…looks like you’re all here,” an Elf woman with ruddy red hair looked down from the top of the stairs nearby.

The Adventurers below straightened at the sight of the Orichalcum plate which glinted in the light as she casually descended.

“Hum, hum, yup, yup,” she nodded to herself. “Let’s go.”

“H-hold up,” someone said as the Elf turned to leave, “what are we even doing? We just got here with no explanation or anything.”

“Whaddya mean?” The Elf answered with a sidelong look, “The Guild only does one thing now.”

That was true, in the broadest sense. The Guild was now an organization revolving around the fielding of its expeditions: everything they did was for the eventual goal of exploration and discovery. Seeing that her response appeared to be unsatisfactory, the Elf turned back around and placed a hand on her hip.

“I guess if ya want details,” she said, “we’re going to the training area: we need to start toughening you newbies up. Those Ogres were swatting you left and right earlier today, and they were barely trying.”

“O-ogres?” The mage – a young woman in plain, brown robes – said worriedly, “What happened?”

“Ah yeah,” the Elf said after looking over the woman for a moment, “I guess you weren’t there. Can’t have casters going into things half-empty, after all. Long and short of it is that the contingent doing exercises this afternoon was sent packing by a handful of Ogres and Goblins. We couldn’t even get to where we wanted to go in the first place.”

“Oh no, that’s terrible!” The mage replied with a distraught look, “Was anyone hurt? Did anyone die?”

“Hell yeah!” The Elf’s emerald eyes sparkled as she grinned, “There were casualties all over the field. One of the Ogres died – he got back up after we were done, though. Can’t wait to do it again.”

A look of disturbed confusion painted the mage’s face. The rest of the Copper-rank Adventurers, who had been present that afternoon, carried grim expressions as they recalled their one-sidedly poor performance, which did not help at all.

“We’re, uh, not doing something like that with just us now, are we?” Henrich asked.

“Nah, it’ll be more tame stuff,” the Elf answered. “You’ll be going through the upper floors of the training area. Dungeon Crawling, I think they called it. This group is the first one through, so we’ll be seeing how things square up at the same time.”

The Orichalcum Adventurer continued to speak as she walked past them towards the door.

“Anyways, it’ll take you an hour to get out there, so you had better get a move on. Same place as earlier today, by the way. Make sure everyone in your party knows what they’re supposed to be doing before you arrive.”

The Elf left without waiting for a response, and the group had little choice but to leave the city and head towards their destination. Past the gate, beyond the noise and activity of the city, someone finally spoke over the rustle of the wind through the grass.

“I still don’t understand,” it was the mage. “What happened this afternoon?”

“Pretty much what Merry – that Orichalcum Ranger – said,” replied Henrich. “We got our asses handed to us before we even got started. Thirty Adventurers against something like one-third our number in Ogres and Goblins, and we lost all but one party’s worth.”

“And the casualties? She made it sound like a disaster.”

“It was,” said another Adventurer. “But it was just that: an exercise. The Sorcerous Kingdom is really pulling out all the stops with this new Guild. When I first heard about it I thought maybe they’d give us pointers, or maybe have classes or something, but it’s pretty much live combat. Everything is real – even death is real, if you bite it – and after we’re done they just send someone out to pick us back up again.”

“Pretty much,” agreed someone else. “We should sort ourselves out before we reach that tomb again – I don’t feel like getting sent back like a whipped dog for a second time.”

They followed the trail that had been left in the grass that afternoon for several minutes before someone broke the silence.

“I’m Henrich, a Fighter.”

“Kyla, Fighter.”

“Themis, Cleric.”

“Howe, Rogue.”

“Penn, Sorcerer.”

“Ludmila, Ranger.”

“Wait – Lady Bagworm is a Ranger?” Laughed Henrich, “I thought wilderness survival is a Ranger’s shtick: how did you get poisoned by a plant?”

“I thought it looked dangerous, so I went to take a closer look,” Ludmila replied. “They don’t usually jump out and bite you like that.”

“Eh, enough of that already,” Howe said. “How do we even arrange this? What was it – the usual four, plus a scout and something?”

“Sounds about right,” Henrich’s voice turned a bit more serious. “But we have a Ranger and a Rogue – who is the scout?”

“It should be Howe,” Penn reasoned. “They said each team has a diplomat or negotiator, so that would be the noble, right? Rangers can run centre guard as well, which frees me up for magical support.”

Several moments passed over the party in silence, perhaps as they waited for someone to point out any flaws, or just take initiative with further planning. Given the fiasco she started earlier in the day, Ludmila felt that it would be out of place for her to speak.

“I gotta say though,” Henrich remarked, “these teams of six really do feel sturdier.”

“In some ways, maybe.” Themis said, “But there are more people to look out for now, and fewer spells to go around.”

“I heard that the decision was handed down from the Sorcerous Kingdom,” said Kyla. “The size of the expeditions was decided by them as well. Maybe it’s just the way they do things, wherever they came from.”

“You warrior types have it easy the way it is,” Penn complained. “The way it was explained to me, team members are interchangeable to keep expeditions flowing smoothly. Especially with training, us casters use up our mana and we’re just swapped out for other casters and told to go rest and study. Warriors can just get healed up in the city and jump right back into training if they’re needed to fill a spot.”

“Maybe they have ways to restore mana as well?” Henrich mused.

“Yeah, right.” Themis rolled her steel-grey eyes, “Even if they could, why would a powerful caster give their mana to a weak one? They have better things to do with their mana. I doubt they’ll be flinging non-casters into training non-stop anyways. When we’re out doing real work, we’ll need to manage our own resources – including mana. They’ll want us learning that as a part of this training as well, yes?”

“At least Healers will see a lot of love,” Penn said, “It was hard enough to find one before all this, but now it’s ridiculous. A lot of the old members have left, and the Temple of the Four won’t even give the Sorcerous Kingdom the time of day. Say…how is it The Six still have their people running around?”

Themis appeared to collect herself upon hearing the question, and the words that followed had half the air of a proselytizer. The other half sounded like she had memorized a script.

“Followers of The Six need not fear what comes after,” the young Cleric told them. “Surshana will grant a peaceful rest to the souls of His faithful. It’s everyone else that seems to be running around worrying about being turned into a field worker for the rest of eternity.”

“A golden opportunity for the old faith,” Kyla snorted.

“That’s–!” Themis started angrily, but she reigned in her voice, “Of course, we will always welcome those who wish to return to the fold, but that is besides the point. We will always be here for our fellow Humans, whether they be regular citizens, Adventurers or otherwise.”

“We’re getting way off track again,” Howe’s annoyed voice came from the front. “I can already see the ruins from here; do we have some sort of plan?”

“Should be self-explanatory, shouldn’t it?” Henrich said, “Since they said it was a ‘tomb’, maybe it’s something like an old catacomb? We got two Fighters for the frontline and we can just make our way through carefully. Since it’s training, they should be including something for everyone to do…so Howe should be scouting ahead, checking for hazards as we clear the way. That sound about right?”

The tall warrior had a frivolous manner but, between the Copper-ranked Adventurers, there seemed to be little else to add to his summary. They reached the ruins to the northwest of the city as the sun began to sink behind the forested hills which marked the border to Baron Ardoin’s demesne to the west. The field had been left mostly as it had been following the afternoon skirmish: portions of it lay trampled from the fighting, while the areas to the west and north were scorched to the ground by the fires that the Adventurer contingent had set.

The grove and the ruins that stood within awaited silently, casting shadows across the waving tufts of grass that remained. There was no sign that anything awaited them – no enemies, nor any of their seniors from the Guild to provide guidance. The group came in single-file, snaking well around any suspicious-looking stones that might have surprisingly hostile vines, and soon they stood in a semicircle in front of the unassuming limestone structure that contained the entrance to the tomb.

As the area around the city had long been frequented by humans, there was little chance that the building was a genuine ruin. Whoever had built it took great pains to make it look old and weathered, however, so it certainly gave off the atmosphere of one. There was no light inside, and the stairs spiraled down so they could not even see what lay further beyond.

“O-oh, you’re here...”

A voice from an unknown source greeted them as they stood around wondering what to do. Ludmila immediately recognized the soft voice of Lord Mare.

“Welcome,” he said. “Um…don’t die please. That would be bad.”

Birthright: Act 4, Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Silence hung over the Adventurer party as they awaited something more from the disembodied voice of Lord Mare, but it appeared nothing further was forthcoming.

“I’m beginning to think that they just don’t like explaining things around here,” Henrich said.

“Maybe because it’s supposed to be that simple?” Penn ventured a guess, “We’re just Copper-ranks, after all. Merry said we’re supposed to go through the first few floors of this ‘dungeon’ and that’s it.”

Their heads all turned towards Howe.

“Right,” the Rogue said. “Scouting, or something…”

He pulled down the cowl of his mantle, revealing a head of close-cropped sandy hair. After checking over the assorted items attached to his belt, he padded into the ruin. Given the exciting welcome that the Adventurers had received that afternoon, Ludmila was half expecting something to jump out at their Rogue as soon he entered. Howe silently disappeared down the staircase with no such thing happening, however, and the party let out a collective breath.

“So are we going along with Henrich’s plan?” Themis asked, “Just to be sure.”

“If things are as narrow as this,” Kyla motioned to the entrance, “I can’t think of any better way.”

A flickering light appeared from the ruin entrance, followed by Howe, who was holding a torch in his left hand. A long dagger, similar in length and appearance to Ludmila’s own, was in his right.

“It’s clear to the bottom of the stairs,” he reported, wiping his blade on the grass.

“What happened?” Kyla asked, looking down at the long, greenish-yellow smear.

“There was some sort of bug waiting at the bottom of the stairs,” he replied. “I didn’t want to see what it would do, so I gave it a good stab while I had the chance.”

Howe jerked his head to motion the rest of the party forward before turning around to head back down. When they arrived behind him in the small room below, they came across what Howe had described. Cast aside to one of the corners of the chamber was a reddish-brown insect with a flat, oval body about as large as Ludmila’s foot. The same, greenish-yellow ichor leaked out of the single puncture through its abdomen. Half of the party recoiled in disgust.

“Pretty gross, huh?” Howe said with a hint of amusement in his voice.

Kyla’s azure eyes just grew wider the longer she stared at the dead insect.

“What the hell – that thing is huge,” she sounded like she was going to be sick. “Howe, that’s the only one, right? You’re not going to say something like ‘six more of them ran away when I lit my torch’, right?”

“Relax,” Howe replied, handing his torch to Themis, “there was only one. Gonna check ahead again, I’ll be back.”

The Rogue entered the next hall and disappeared around the corner. Kyla was peeking over her shield at the ground nervously – she was definitely in no state of mind to be relaxed. Themis looked around the entrance chamber, holding the torch up near to the closest wall.

“I wonder how long this took to construct,” the Cleric voiced her thoughts aloud as she examined a broken fixture, “and all this only to damage parts of it to give it an authentic feeling...I don’t recognize any of this imagery though.”

The walls of the room were fashioned out of uniform grey stone blocks. Its detailing and fixtures were not of any style Ludmila was familiar with. The majority were defaced and left in various stages of disrepair, leaving jagged protrusions of stone that cast uneven shadows in the torchlight. She agreed with the Cleric’s observation: the time and cost of doing something like this all for the sake of creating an authentic training environment spoke volumes of the Sorcerous Kingdom’s investment into the Guild.

Howe appeared in the corridor once again. He returned to them with relaxed steps, and his grey eyes glanced around the room before he gave his report.

“Hall goes thirty metres to the right,” he said in a low voice. “There’s some sort of tile about halfway through that I think might be a trap – I left a piece of slag glass on it that should catch the light of the torches. The room at the end has another one of those bugs…it’s just sitting there like the other one was in this room when I found it.”

“You’re killing it,” Kyla said as she looked at Henrich’s brandished warhammer. “I don’t want to get anywhere near one of those.”

As mentioned, the piece of glass Howe had placed to mark the potential trap glimmered clearly with reflected torchlight as soon as they rounded the corner. Beyond, they could see what appeared to be the exact same insect sitting in the middle of the next room. They stopped after passing the marked tile and looked towards the occupant of the next room warily: its long feelers waved around slightly, but it did not react to their presence.

“Uh, there’s nothing else in there, right?” Henrich said to make sure.

“Beats me,” Howe returned. “Not like I can walk in front of the thing to look around. Did you want me to kill it for you?”

“No, no. I got this,” the Fighter said, hefting his warhammer. “Does anyone know what these actually are? Abilities? Poison? Rangers should be familiar with this sort of stuff, shouldn’t they?”

“It just looks like a cockroach,” Ludmila said. “A large cockroach. They’re not poisonous, as far as I know. It might run off or fly somewhere if you miss somehow.”

Her explanation was as casual as she could make it, but her words seemed to only generate more unease. Kyla raised her shield again and kicked Henrich on the side of his boot. The other fighter shook his head as he stepped forward to face off against his opponent.

When he got within a few metres of the cockroach, it raised its head and feelers towards him.

“Why are you waiting!” Kyla pushed him from behind, “Kill it, kill it killitkillit!”

Henrich chuckled incredulously as he was edged forward and smashed it with an overhead swing. A second insect detached itself from where it was hiding inside the room and flew at him. He threw his arm out, slapping it out of the air with his shield. It bounced off of the wall and careened down the hall to where the rest of the party watched.

The cockroach skidded to a halt on its back near Kyla’s feet, stunned and twitching erratically from Henrich’s reaction. The other Fighter let out a shrill shout and kicked it back towards the room. Henrich was jounced slightly as it bounced off of his leg and he turned to swing his weapon down to finish it off.

Howe mumbled something while shaking his head, walking off to investigate further.

“Easy,” Henrich smiled lightly as the party entered the room. “What. Why–”

“We’re switching sides,” Kyla said as she pointed her steel longsword at him. “Keep that weapon away from me.”

Henrich looked to the head of his warhammer, which was dripping ichor. He laughed as he kicked the insect corpses out of the way.

“Just how are you going to survive like this?” He asked her as he stepped over to stand on her right, “There’s far worse than bugs.”

“Those aren’t just bugs,” she scowled at him. “You’ve just never…never…never…”

Kyla’s words trailed off as she glanced at the dead cockroach and quickly looked away again, shuddering.

The second room was nearly identical to the first; an identical corridor extended out from it, turning in the same direction. Ludmila wrinkled her nose as the pungent odour of the smashed cockroaches filled the air. Thankfully, Howe appeared again within a few minutes.

“Two traps, I marked them the same way. Another room…with another roach.”

“Let’s just move,” Penn said quickly. “This smell is horrible.”

The party skirted around the traps, which put them not far away from the next room. As with the previous insect, this one did not react to their presence in the hall.

“So if the last hall was two,” Henrich mused, “does that mean that this next one will be three?”

“You’re up again,” Kyla nudged him. “Keep putting that bug masher to work. Don’t send one at us this time.”

“What?” Henrich replied, “Nuh-uh. That last one that flew at me looked like it was trying to bite. Three at a time will definitely get me – I haven’t been bitten by a bug that big before, but I’m not keen on feeling what it’s like if I can help it.”

“Then let’s just kill it from here,” Kyla’s voice became even more shrill. “Ludmila, just shoot it – you can hit it from this far away, right?”

The room was only ten metres away, and the target wasn’t moving. An archer that couldn’t land that shot couldn’t rightly be called an archer at all. She pulled an arrow from the quiver at her waist, nocking it and releasing it at half draw. The arrow buried itself in its mark and the cockroach was carried away by the arrow as it bounced off of the floor and out of sight. A rustling sound was immediately heard and the expected additions skittered into view, coming towards the party at a startling speed.

Kyla froze, holding up her shield out towards the darting insect headed her way. It jumped up and fastened itself onto its wooden surface, and Howe reached out to stab it with his dagger, pushing it off as it thrashed and died.

Henrich met the charge of his opponent, bringing his weapon down and striking a clean blow. Maybe a bit too clean. The remainder of its corpse continued in the direction of its momentum, tumbling past the members behind who quickly stepped out of the way. It came to rest on the nearest marked tile and there was an audible click.

“Uh…what does it do, Howe?” Penn asked worriedly as a grinding sound started around them.

“Hell if I know!” He snapped, “It’s built into the structure, it’s not some hastily rigged thing. If it was, I would have disarmed it instead of marking it.”

The party relocated into the now-cleared room. Flipping their formation around, they eyed the vacated hall from where the grinding sound continued. After a minute, the sound stopped and panels on either side of the corridor fell to the floor with a clatter, spilling a great amount of cockroaches into the hall.

Ludmila sighed and nocked a fresh arrow. As she did so, she mused over how pointless the action seemed against so many small targets.

“What happened? It’s too dark to see what’s there.” Penn peered into the hall over the shoulders of the front line.

“A lot of things happened,” Ludmila replied. “Do we have any way to clear the hall all at once?”

Everyone turned to stare at her with a horrified expression. Themis leaned forward into the cooridor with her torch and the shining mass reacted, scurrying away from the light.

“Hieeee…”

Kyla did not look well at all.

“I don’t have any spells that can affect large areas yet,” Penn offered, “but I do have a vial of Alchemist’s Fire if it’s needed…”

“Eh? Wouldn’t that be a waste?” Henrich’s voice sounded pained at the notion, “This is just training, so using items is a bit…”

“They aren’t attacking right away anyways,” Howe said. “Maybe they don’t do anything until we do, like the others?”

“Where do they even get so many of those things, anyways?” Henrich looked for a way through, “Is some place in the Sorcerous Kingdom drowning in cockroaches?”

“C-can’t we just keep going?” Kyla whimpered, “We’re supposed to be headed further in, anyways. Maybe there’s another way out.”

A long flight of stone steps led down out of the room. Like the tomb’s entrance, it curved away and out of sight. Howe started to make his way below, but stopped when he looked over his shoulder and found Kyla following immediately behind him.

“Uh…a little space? It’s dangerous if I don’t check things out first.”

“Don’t make us wait in that room with those things!” Kyla complained, “Twenty–no, ten seconds! Ten seconds should be enough of a lead, right?”

“...Fine, but if you see me stop up ahead, you have to stop at that distance as well. Don’t just walk all over me when I’m checking things out.”

At the bottom of the stairs, there was another room with another cockroach waiting for them. This one was far larger, however: over a metre in length.

“Bloody…” Henrich brought his hammer to bear again.

“Now here’s the question,” Howe mused, “Is it just this one in the room since this is the first room of this floor, or are there three others in this room because it’s the fourth room so far?”

The Fighter stopped his advance to look around nervously.

“There’s no way three things that big can hide in a room this small,” he said.

“I swear you’ve never had to deal with these before,” Kyla stared at the giant cockroach nervously. “They can hide anywhere.”

“We still have to move forward,” Henrich returned, “unless you want to go back up and through the others.”

With no further voices of dissent, he walked forward again. The cockroach looked up at him with its compound eyes, mandibles working silently.

“You know,” Henrich said as he glowered down at the cockroach, “do we even need to attack these? It’s not like we’re going to be chasing every little thing we see out in–woah!”

The cockroach jumped up at Henrich, bowling the fighter over. Its legs clung to the fighter’s legs as shining mandibles gnawed on the edge of the round shield he had brought up in reaction. Howe, who stood the closest behind him, reached out and jabbed the insect in the abdomen. The injured insect released its hold and started to scurry off.

“Someone shoot that thing before it gets away!”

If attacking one drew others nearby, Ludmila dared not imagine what happened if this one ran away into the depths of the tomb.

“「Magic Arrow」!”

Penn cast a spell as Ludmila released an arrow. A flaring dart of magical energy shot out alongside her own attack, both struck the fleeing insect one after the other. Its smooth, giant form collapsed onto the floor with a scraping sound.

“Was that a good idea?” Themis asked after the group let out a collective sigh of relief, “mana is limited, and Ludmila shot it too.”

“Better safe than sorry,” said Kyla. “Imagine if it ran through three more rooms? We’d get buried in these things!”

“Is what we’re doing really all there is to it, though?” Ludmila looked around at the damaged features of the chamber, “Maybe they’re going easy on us to start with, but all we’re really doing is walking around killing things. I thought they would have more in mind for us – this seems less like exploring and more like…cleaning.”

“Yeah, it does seem more like something that Adventurers usually do,” Henrich said after thinking it over, “but what you said about going easy on us is probably the right idea, since none of us know each other. Why else would they space things out so we can talk after every fight?”

Once again, the Fighter’s insight lay at odds with his frivolous personality. Either he was possessed of a great deal of situational awareness and knew how to act accordingly, or his usual attitude was simply a façade. Being able to make quick assessments and making sound calls based on them was something that accompanied a Fighter’s usual role in an Adventurer party, so it seemed he was well-suited to his career choice.

“If that’s the case,” said Howe, “we need to get our act together. They might give us a bad assessment if they think we’re fooling around too much.”

The Rogue stepped away and disappeared into the next hall. Henrich turned to face the other party members.

“He has a point,” his gaze ran over the faces of the women looking back towards him. “We need to pick things up. Half of our frontline almost collapses every time we start a fight and our attacks are being wasted without coordination.”

“I’ll just hold off on casting spells until they’re called for,” Penn looked down. “It’ll save on mana, and Ludmila is supposed to be running Centre Guard anyways.”

“I joined the Guild before everything happened,” Kyla said. “I didn’t think I’d be doing this when I signed up.”

“You and me both,” replied Henrich as he waved the head of his warhammer pointedly, “I joined for the same reason most people did here – to earn bounties off of Undead out in Katze. Now we’re best friends with them. Since you were with the Guild before, you should know that what they’re offering now is way better than the life we signed up for before, right?”

“I get that,” she replied sullenly. “It’s too good to give up. Just give me some time.”

Birthright: Act 4, Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Pluton Ainzach crossed his arms as he observed the proceedings from his cushioned chair. The furniture in the room was of a luxurious quality that, in turn, made him uncomfortable. He shifted in his seat for the third time as he watched the hastily assembled Copper-rank party progress through the training area. Ainzach and the six party leaders of the afternoon’s exercise were in various reclining postures as they, too, watched the novices make their way through two Mirror of Remote Viewing provided by the Sorcerous Kingdom. Occasionally, one of them would glance around the room at their surroundings.

He couldn’t blame them. All of the preparations that the Sorcerous Kingdom made for the Adventurer Guild seemed to surpass expectations in every way, whether it be their financial support, powerful magic or the facilities provided. The large room was situated on the top floor of one of the abandoned administrative buildings in E-Rantel’s central district, once the archives that had been emptied with the flight of Lord Panasolei Rettenmeier and his staff following the defeat of the Royal Army at Katze Plains.

There were eight rooms on the floor, each set up with two mirrors each and various comforts provided out for the guild members as they monitored the progress of Adventurer parties progression through different parts of the training area outside the city. Each seat was placed behind a desk, amply stocked with ink and stationery to take notes with. There was a table where refreshments had been provided, and extra seats arrayed around the viewing area for additional observers.

Mare, the manager of the Adventurer Guild Training Area, stood to the side of the two mirrors, watching the proceedings intently. The boy barely blinked; his clear, wide eyes reflected the light of the images in front of him. He barely said anything aside from his initial greetings to the Adventurers. Once in a while, he would adjust the mirrors to offer a better view of the activity within – currently, one was fixed on the main group of the party, while the other was set to follow the party’s Rogue as he regularly scouted ahead.

“That guy is a real workhorse,” commented Utrecht. “He’s doing three times as much as everyone else.”

“Well, that’s just how it is,” Merry said. “Scouting’s a lonely job; not like you can have three or four of us tripping over each other doing it. It’s really the worst when you’re a newbie though – you’re weak and vulnerable with no items or tricks to help you. Just gotta keep slogging along until you do, and hope you don’t get eaten by something before that.”

“I never knew how much work it was until now,” Utrecht murmured as they continued watching.

Ainzach silently agreed with the man. Before he had retired, his own party’s Ranger worked tirelessly to keep their group informed and secure against both their enemies and the elements at large. Watching the Rogue in the mirror really showed how underappreciated those efforts could be, even amongst veteran Adventurers.

“Doesn’t that mean we’re going to need more reconnaissance types?” Josin asked, “This is just a narrow catacomb – what about when they’re out exploring the wilderness?”

“It becomes a problem if we do it that way too,” Ainzach replied. “Each Scout needs to have a party supporting them just in case a quick response is needed. We can’t send our people out alone for days at a time just to make things convenient for the rest – it would alienate them from the others even more and it might lend to the idea that they are numerous and expendable.”

“The way the expedition camps are set up helps too,” Ilyn piped in. “It’s a safe place to rest after long treks and to swap party members according to our needs out there. I think Guildmaster Raksheer said something about being able to station divination specialists as well as any other types of mages we’ll need for the things that are too dangerous to carelessly approach in person.”

“That’s still being discussed,” Ainzach said. “It’s not necessarily a bad idea, but for the time being the city doesn’t have the casters to spare – the Guildmaster of the Mage Guild should know this, of all people. Also, until we know that our procedures are safe enough for it, I’d advise against using the expedition camps as a base to house non-Adventurer consultants. Samples and collected information can be studied in the city safely, so unless the work requires an on-site presence, it is an unnecessary risk.”

The idea that magic capable of moving limited amounts of people and cargo around was readily available was yet another idea that many found difficult to wrap their heads around. Before the Sorcerous Kingdom, flight magic was the best they could come up with in E-Rantel, with Teleportation being a Fifth-tier spell out of the reach of the local arcane casters. Now, it was just a matter of making a request.

Ilyn, as well as most of the remaining mages of the Magician Guild were the exact opposite when it came to the magical might of the Sorcerous Kingdom – they had flung their arms wide open to embrace the opportunities that the nation presented: new power and knowledge to further advance their passion in the art. Many hoped that they, too, would be able to wield such magic. Even if they didn’t, the Sorcerous Kingdom’s offerings represented countless lifetimes of research and study that they could happily pursue with the support of the nation.

“Looks like they’re moving again,” Blair turned their attention away from the discussion and back to the Adventurer team in the tomb. “According to the itinerary, things should be picking up soon?”

All eyes were glued to the mirrors as the Adventurers cautiously advanced. The ‘Copper Floors’ of the tomb were simple in nature and divided into three levels. The first were sections designed to ensure that all the party was capable of performing all of the necessary tasks to function, the second consisted of a series of encounters that would require a team to work together to overcome and the third was used as a test to identify which members of the party qualified for Iron rank. As straightforward as it was, however, several major issues had already been made plain before them.

“Ah–they’re holding out again,” Merry said from the side. “This time it’ll definitely bite them in their asses if they don’t do something about it.”

The first issue was due to the perception that it was ‘training’, the Adventurers were overly sparing in their use of party resources. Alchemical potions and magic were being used in an unrealistically frugal manner. It was a sentiment that any Adventurer from the old organization could understand: generally all the costs and risks of adventuring fell on the Adventurers themselves, so with nothing to justify use of those resources to offset these costs, one would naturally be hesitant to use them.

“The Cleric used a healing spell,” Blair said, shaking his head. “Bad move. She should have used a slower acting salve or potion since they’re not under immediate threat.”

“Reminds me of some kid that used to do that all the time,” Merry snickered.

“Hey now, that was over twenty years ago!” Blair turned defensive, “Besides, being there once myself makes this all the more painful to watch. Twenty years, and the newbies are still making the same mistakes that we made so long ago – have we really been so stagnant after all this time?”

“It’s because they’re Copper, isn’t it? Th–”

Utrecht interrupted himself as the party worked to finish their fight, the two fighters facing off against the two giant cockroaches awaiting them. According to Mare, their controller had instructed them to not be too aggressive, so the front line held easily. The Adventurers went from one to the other, decisively killing them before they could flee like the one they had encountered in the previous room.

“See? They learn quickly.” Utrecht continued after the Rogue headed out again, “It’s not all gloom and doom here. Anyways, Copper plates don’t know because the Guild never paid much attention to them. Nine out of ten new Adventurers either quit or died before they earned Iron…it just wasn’t worth it to babysit every new face that showed up.”

“That’s true, but how many we could have saved with just a little bit of attention is a question I still ask myself after all these years.”

Ainzach’s words created a sombre atmosphere amongst the veterans; it was a question that all had considered at least once in their long careers. He wondered if that hardened attitude towards the lowest ranks of Adventurers was something that would continue in the new organization. Even though they faced little risk of dying during training at Copper and Iron ranks, those that couldn’t make Gold would be dismissed. There was little reason to get close to or invest time and effort into those that could potentially fail to make the cut, and few were so friendly that they would go out of their way to try.

“We’ll find out soon enough,” he said, attempting to lift the mood, but the group had already turned their attention back to the trainees.

With three opponents, the party had opted to hold off two while overwhelming the third quickly. What followed after was an uneventful repeat of the previous battle. The group was overly defensive in their tactics, but Ainzach supposed that it came hand in hand with being new Adventurers. There was also the matter of the training regimen itself, and how Mare designed each encounter and scenario.

It had been the source of some confusion when their collaboration with the Training Area manager had started – the Dark Elf had used many terms unfamiliar to any of the Adventurers that Ainzach had called in to help lay out their future plans. Mare was aware of how the Guild rated opponents and quests, but the finer measure that their Difficulty Ratings provided seemed superfluous to both him and his sister. Ainzach supposed that, to the unfathomably powerful servants of His Majesty, wondering if something weighed one mote of dust or two mattered little. He remained adamant on the use of Difficulty Ratings, however, and was able to convince them of the merits of its continued use as a more suitable measure for ensuring the training facility was as comprehensive as possible.

When reviewing the content of the current session before it started, he had estimated the opponents in the dungeon to have a Difficulty Rating of anywhere from one to twelve. While Copper-ranked Adventurers also occupied this range, there were notable advantages when one considered how many there were in the party as well as the clear edge provided by their equipment.

The adversaries Adventurers commonly saw fulfilling Copper-rank quests were mundane in nature: animals, weak, tribal Demihumans and the like. Such opponents without special natural weapons, abilities, spells, or access to advanced equipment had issues overcoming the protection provided by even the wooden shields and light armour that beginner Adventurers used.

In addition, these opponents were poorly protected so even simple, unenchanted weapons were more than sufficient to defeat them. In this situation, the training party was being overly cautious and wasting time – though he supposed there was no way for them to know this. With experience would come confidence, and the ability to assess how dangerous a situation actually was.

Having such nicely standardized opponents to train against was something that could only be accomplished in the controlled environment of the Training Area. Out on a real job, a Copper party could take a commission to eliminate weak targets but, if those targets had a stronger individual among them – say, a tribal leader or shaman type ruling a group of Demihumans – it would often result in fatalities, or even spell the end of the entire Adventurer team. The gap between a Copper or Iron-ranked Adventurer and an adversary equivalent to Silver or Gold was a painful one that was encountered far too often on the field.

He saw Merry stretch and yawn in the corner of his vision. Her drawn out action started a chain reaction amongst the assembled proctors.

Ainzach knew putting Copper ranks through generally nonlethal training would take time, but this group had taken over an hour to clear through six rooms. At this rate, he was actually afraid that the observers would lapse in their observations due to how slow it was. Fortunately, there should be enough to rotate them at some point so a single set of veterans was not exposed to hours upon hours of sluggish Copper rank training.

“Look alive,” he said while fighting off a yawn of his own. “Third floor’s where it should all come together...or fall apart.”

Ainzach leaned forward in his seat as the party entered the first chamber. Unlike the previous rooms, this one was empty: the starting point for an uphill struggle to the end.

“There goes the Scout,” Merry said. “Say, isn’t it a bit unfair that we get them into this pattern then suddenly change everything?”

“First two floors are just to make sure all the parts are working, yeah?” Moknach stated. “A freebie. Third floor’s the only one with anything resembling a challenge for a Copper party.”

After Howe crossed the halfway point in the hall to the next chamber, the fight began. Smaller cockroaches began to appear out of cleverly hidden cracks in the walls of the first chamber, and it was only until the first one flew at the panicking female Fighter’s face that they realized that they were no longer the only ones in the room. Though the mirrors did not transmit sound, they could see the frenzy of shouting and stomping as they fought to keep the trickle of insects away. It was an image that fell far short of what one might have thought of when they heard the word ‘adventure’ and the stone floors were becoming slick with mashed cockroaches. Thankfully, while the mirrors could not transmit sounds, neither could they transmit smells.

Their scout was in his own predicament. Howe had turned to look back at the commotion behind him and found himself cut off by more insects that had crawled out of the openings that lined the hall.

“Are they just going to stand there smashing roaches forever?” Ilyn mused.

“More to the point,” Moknach said, “how are there so many of them?”

It took a few moments for Mare, who was still intently watching his handiwork, to realize that the question was intended for him.

“Hm? Oh! Kyouhukou’s family was able to have some extra food recently. They were getting so big that they were about to spill–er, overcrowd their living space. He was more than happy to send some over to help out. E-even Demiurge praised me for the idea. An inspired reallocation of idle resources, he called it.”

The Dark Elf boy almost smiled, then stopped as if he was unsure about whether he should actually show pride at his achievement.

“Does that mean that we’ll be watching newbie teams fighting roaches every day?” Merry asked.

“My sister said it’s not a good idea to do the same thing every day, so I thought maybe a rotation for now? The first floors will be expanded eventually to have many things, but for now we wanted training floors for everyone, right?”

“Right…”

Ainzach wasn’t sure how to respond. He hoped that the days would be chosen at random, or many Adventurers would mysteriously happen to be absent on Cockroach Day. It was probably just better to have a variety of different training opponents in any given session where they made sense.

It seemed that the Adventurers had finally decided to advance while defending themselves from the encroaching roaches. Ainzach could not tell whether they had actually coordinated a move with their trapped scout, or they had found the situation untenable and spontaneously decided to get away. As they pressed forward while fighting, more and more of the areas they left in their wake were being filled with the insects that would then join the dark stream from the first room that was following them.

One more hall and one more room to go, Ainzach thought to himself as they entered the second chamber. Somehow, they still had the presence of mind to send their Rogue to scout ahead once more while they fought off the wave of insects behind them. Howe seemed to be periodically calling back to them as he stepped forward, probably to try to gauge how far he could advance before triggering additional sources of the mounting infestation. He made it all the way within sight of the last room with his expectations unfulfilled, however and, with any semblance of stealth negated by his continued callbacks to the team, he shouted one last time for them to catch up to him.

Birthright: Act 4, Chapter 14

Chapter 14

“Did he say move up?” Kyla’s voice drifted over from the rear.

Through the chorus of shifting boots, stomping and squeamish noises, Ludmila could barely hear Howe’s call from ahead of them somewhere. The cockroaches kept coming, and the party continued in their efforts to squash them as they came. The ichor drenching the stones made footing hazardous, the stench was stomach-turning, and the sound of countless rustling limbs made for a chorus of its own. Fortunately, none of the insects that came from whatever traps they had triggered were as monstrously huge as the few they had come across in the rooms or they would surely have been overrun by now. Not that it made things any better for their Fighter in the rearguard.

“C-come on, someone say something!” Kyla shouted over the din again. “Can we move now? Please?”

Not willing to risk her breaking up their formation, Themis had cast an enchantment on the wavering Fighter to help keep her calm as she fought. Though it didn’t completely eliminate her fear, Kyla was doing markedly better, fighting with clean and measured movements one would have never expected out of her given her previous state of near mental collapse. She used her shield to crush a half dozen crawling along the wall beside her, then two more on the ground in front with the flat of her sword. Her methodical defence continued even as she asked for updates from the front.

“I’m pretty sure he did, yes,” Ludmila said as she brought her own shield down to smash several cockroaches that were creeping through.

Though she had come into the Adventurer Guild with the idea that her years of training as a child to fight on the frontier would give her an edge in combat, their current situation flew in the face of what she considered common sense. She ended up discarding the notion of using weapons in a regular fashion, as her usual armament was ill-suited to dealing with so many small targets. Those that had shields were using them to kill as many as they could with every attack. Those without them used their torches to ward the cockroaches away, or stepped on them when they saw one skittering too close.

“Let’s catch up to him, then,” Henrich said. “We should be almost through if the pattern of the floors is the same.”

They dashed over to where Howe awaited, leaving the writhing black mass behind. The slowly growing rustle of thousands of legs behind them was an ever-present reminder that they were still being trailed.

“I only see one big one, but it’s probably three going by how things have been so far,” Howe said calmly as they approached. “If we can handle it like the third room up top, we should be clear…right?”

“Will we actually?” Penn was doubtful, “Now that we have this endless parade of bugs following us everywhere, who’s to say they won’t keep following us? I can’t think of any way to stop them.”

“If we wait, we’ll lose any advantage we have tackling the next room,” Ludmila said. “Let’s take ad…”

Her words trailed off as cockroaches started to crawl out of the cracks in the hall: like the previous corridor, their entry as a party triggered the release of yet another source of them. Howe followed her gaze, swinging his torch around and he cursed as the glistening dark bodies reflected the light. Several dozen were killed as they emerged from the walls but, like the sections of the tomb before them, there seemed to be an unlimited number of them that steadily filled the hall.

“Whoever came up with this is insane!” Kyla cried, “In what world do people have to fight this many cockroaches?”

“Ooookay, let’s attack?” Henrich said as he kept swatting at the insects crawling out of the walls. “Once Ludmila kills the first one, we’ll take the other two that come out. I’ll hold one and Kyla can hold the back while everyone else gets the other.”

After everyone gave their affirmative, Ludmila set her shield and spear down to draw her bow, releasing an arrow into the giant cockroach patiently waiting for them. It settled to the ground, dead, but nothing came out to rush them in response. They waited for half a minute, but nothing came out to charge them.

“Uh…the stuff behind is almost caught up,” Kyla’s voice nudged at them.

“Let’s go then,” Henrich said. “If they’re waiting, we’ll deal with them as fast as we can.”

As they approached the entrance to the room, the gleam of light reflected off of a second giant cockroach in the back. Henrich advanced on the insect, which was half hidden behind a crumbled stone column.

“Watch my back, I’m going for that one there,” he said as he stepped forward, brandishing his warhammer.

Not three metres into the room, a third giant cockroach detached itself from the ceiling and landed on Henrich’s head, knocking the fighter prone. The second enemy exploded into action when he fell, skittering by Howe and Ludmila who both managed to sidestep its charge. Penn and Themis were not so quick and were bowled over.

“W-what?!” Kyla cried in surprise.

The giant insect leapt onto her back, the impact driving her face first into the awaiting swarm behind the party. The four Adventurers looking back to her winced in unison.

“Kyla, are you alright?” Ludmila asked worriedly as Howe went to deal with the cockroach that was still clinging onto Henrich.

Kyla groaned, trying to regain her feet with the weight of the giant insect fastened to her back. She managed to rise to her knees before freezing.

“Oh no...” came Themis’ shaky voice. “The enchantment is off – I don’t have the mana to sustain it.”

The cockroach clacked its mandibles several times next to Kyla’s ear. It let out a loud hiss from its body and an expression of abject horror filled the Fighter’s face.

“Hold on Kyla,” Ludmila moved forward to try to detach the giant cockroach, “I’m coming to get it–”

“Hee–”

“He?”

“HEEEEEYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGHHHHHHHHHH!!!”

With a cry borne of primal terror, Kyla snapped.

She heaved herself back to her feet and sprinted straight back the way they had come with the cockroach still attached to her back clinging on with everything it had. She plowed through the squirming stream of insects as effortlessly as a Death Knight plowed a field. Seeing the defender in front of them flee, Penn ran after her. With one fighter fleeing and one of their supporters rapidly disappearing back up the hall after her, Ludmila turned to call back to the remaining two party members.

“Kyla ran off,” Ludmila said to Howe and Henrich, who had just finished off their opponent. “Penn followed her.”

Themis wobbled forward a few steps before falling to her knees. Ludmila helped her back up again, lending the Cleric her shoulder.

“We have two on the way out and Themis is in no condition to continue,” Ludmila said. “Maybe we should withdraw?”

“The stairs are right there, though?” Henrich pointed to the exit of the room.

“They didn’t say how many floors we’d be going through,” Ludmila replied. “Maybe there’s a man-sized roach waiting for us in the next room. The way back up is still clear – we should play it safe.”

The remaining members of the party exchanged glances.

“This is as far as we go, I guess,” Henrich sighed. “Let’s get out of here while we still can.”

With Henrich bringing up the rear, they backtracked through the halls. Kyla’s passing had agitated the cockroaches even more, and now thousands of them were scurrying everywhere and flying through the air in short bursts. They gave up all attempts at fighting, covering their heads to follow after their fleeing party members.

“「Magic Arrow」!” Penn’s voice echoed down the stairwell as they ascended.

The spell was cast again before they finished climbing the stairs. The corpse of the last giant cockroach greeted them when they reached the top. In the hallway ahead was the squirming pile of cockroaches that had been released by the pressure trap. Penn was breathing raggedly, winded from the mad dash to the second floor. Kyla was frozen by the sight of the creeping blockage before her.

“Do you still have that Alchemist’s Fire, Penn?” Ludmila asked.

“Eh? Yes, I do,” Penn answered between breaths.

“How does it work?”

“Erm…when the solution is exposed to enough of the air, it will ignite. If you just unstopper the vial, it would take a dozen seconds or so.”

“How much did it cost?”

“Um, one silver? Re-Estize coinage.”

“I’ll buy it.”

Ludmila held out her free hand in front of the mage.

Penn fished around in her belt pouches until she located a large vial of crimson-tinted glass, placing it into Ludmila’s palm. After feeling its weight for a moment, Ludmila unstoppered the vial with her teeth and tossed it at the base of the writing mass. It shattered and the contents immediately ignited. The burst of flame caused the insects to recoil as one. Many immediately died from the intense heat, but many more simply fled. Several scurried towards them with their abdomens on fire, which jolted Kyla into a fresh run up the hall.

Ludmila paid Penn, then adjusted Themis’ weight over her shoulder before moving forward again. Five minutes later, the cool and blessedly fresh night air greeted them outside. After being inundated by the putrid odor inside the tomb, even the hints of charred grass that lingered on the breeze smelled sweet. Penn had collapsed onto her back, staring up at the stars overhead. Kyla came to a stop near the edge of the ruin, staring blankly at nothing in particular. Howe and Henrich appeared moments later, jogging out of the tomb’s entrance. Little but the rustle of grass and the sound of laboured breathing filled the air as the group caught their breaths.

“Euwh?!” Kyla made a curious noise.

Ludmila turned her head to see the Fighter standing at an odd angle. She spun and hopped several times in the twilight.

“Kyla?”

“I can feel one in my armour!” She whimpered, “Ergh! Get out!”

Her face was distraught as she continued to dance around while grabbing at her gambeson.

“Let me see,” Howe came forward and tried to locate the intruder, but was having little success with Kyla moving about. “Hold still, dammit!”

“Do you see it? Did you find it? Oh gods, I can still feel it crawling around.”

The more the Rogue tried to isolate the insect, the more energetic its struggling became – Kyla’s panicked breaths and soft cries became even more pronounced.

“What are you doing!” Her voice was desperate, “It’s moving around even more. It’s going to bite me, isn’t it? Please don’t bite. Don’t bite!”

Ludmila thought she saw the lump where the cockroach was crawling under the layers of fabric. Letting Themis down to rest on the grass, she walked over and pinned the thing in place with both hands. It was one of the ones about the size of her hand. She could still feel it struggling even as its movements were sealed. With the sensation of its squirming concentrated on a single spot, Kyla let out of pitiful noise.

“I got it,” Ludmila said, “just stay still, we’ll–”

Henrich’s hand came flying in, smashing the lump in the fabric. There was an audible crunch as the force of his punch shattered the body of the cockroach. A pungent odor filled the air, and the stain of ichor from the squashed insect spread out through the fabric where it had met its end.

“Got it!” He announced triumphantly.

Ludmila let go and backed away as Kyla turned around to face Henrich with an expression halfway between disgusted horror and betrayal. Tears started to run down her cheeks, followed by a soft sob.

“Uh…” Henrich unconsciously took a step backwards while raising his hands. “I’m umbh–!”

He didn’t get to finish what he had to say, since Kyla’s gauntleted fist crunched into his jaw. Henrich made half a turn before wobbling to the ground in a heap.

“I hate you so much,” Kyla seethed through her tears.

A moment later she ran to the nearest tree, doubling over with her hands on her knees.

The sounds of retching filled the evening air, and Ludmila looked over the mostly broken remains of her team as the wind blew over the ruins. She wondered what the results of their test would be – if their examiners could even make any sense out of it.

Birthright: Act 4, Chapter 15

Chapter 15

“…did that count?” Utrecht asked.

“Uh…probably?” Merry said.

“They didn’t advance to the fourth floor…so technically that didn’t count?” Josin mused.

“Like hell it didn’t!” Moknach scoffed. “That was way harder than just walking down the stairs to the next floor.”

As the Mirror of Remote Viewing followed the party slowly limping back to E-Rantel, the assembled veterans acting as proctors discussed the outcome. Gazing at the scene in the Mirror of Remote Viewing, Ainzach mulled over his thoughts as the women of the party accompanied the sobbing Kyla back while Howe and Henrich followed some distance behind. It would be just a bit of an understatement to say that they had taken a detour from the expected route.

“It’s pointless to say that it technically didn’t count.” Blair leaned back in his chair, fingers drumming on his desk, “We put them in again and Kyla can just smash her way through everything by herself – provided she’s willing to do it.”

“What about just upping her to Iron then?” Ilyn proposed, “She did the most damage to the party’s enemies and her own party. She laid out that other Fighter with a single punch.”

“I’m not opposed to that,” Ainzach agreed with the motion. “I picked out the ones that appeared to already be Iron-rank or better in the first place for this session. Four of them clearly are, at least.”

“Mmh…it’s hard to tell for Penn,” Ilyn crossed her arms. “This type of scenario is a bad fit for the spells that she currently has. We should run her through again with different opposition to see what she’s really capable of. As, uh, novel as this experience was, Copper-rank casters don’t have much in the way of spell diversity. We can address this over time, but any new recruits coming in – especially people from elsewhere – are going to have the spells that they think they’ll need for old Adventurer work.”

“My thoughts for Themis run along similar lines,” Blair added. “She can clearly hold her own, but most of her mana looks like it was dedicated to keeping Kyla stable. I’d like to see how she handles a more conventional situation.”

“I have no problems with the Ranger and the Rogue,” Merry chimed in. “The Rogue especially. Did he learn his craft from someone?”

Ainzach flipped through the profiles in his dossier, scanning through the contents of Howe’s quickly.

“It says he’s former city militia, a new guy,” he told the others. “Seems he grew up learning from his father, a thief taker in the militia. Howe started working for the city on his own a year or so ago.”

“Might explain why he acts like that,” Merry pondered the description. “He’s too straight-laced for a footpad or some petty crook. Why’d he drop out of the militia?”

“You can probably guess,” Ainzach looked up from Howe’s file. “A bunch of the militia quit after seeing that they were just plain outmatched by His Majesty’s forces deployed around the city. Most of the ones that remained are either too old to change their vocation or working in customs and other duties that don’t revolve around having muscle. There’s probably some use still for a thief taker…I wonder if he just saw a better opportunity here, despite his upbringing.”

“All’s the more to our gain – if he can get to gold or higher,” Merry said. “Someone of his calibre will be pretty popular for parties.”

Ainzach nodded. Flipping through the sheets again, he found the remaining party member.

“I’m on the fence about Henrich, actually.” He admitted, “He’s solid enough, but he’s also pretty…”

“Normal?” Offered Utrecht.

“Kinda,” Ainzach twisted his mouth in thought. “It’s hard to put a finger on it, but something along those lines.”

“He’s reliable, level-headed and appears to have good judgement,” Josin said. “In a very plain sort of way.”

The description floated close to the mark, and several of the other proctors nodded.

“Looking at it from another angle,” Moknach said, “there’s nothing really outstanding that I saw that would hold him back. He did his job, and everyone walked home: that’s what matters, right?”

It seemed that they were in agreement. Ainzach looked to Mare just in case he had something to say, but he appeared to be speaking to someone via magic, whispering to no one in particular with his back facing the rest. The guildmaster decided to move on to the most immediate issue identified during the session.

“So we have one big problem,” he addressed everyone in the room. “Well, this is the biggest one, at least.”

The assembled veterans straightened to pay attention at the shift in his tone. Mare turned around from his conversation and walked back to join them.

“It’s not as pronounced of an issue at lower ranks,” Ainzach said, “but it definitely will be by Silver. The trainees were too conservative with items – probably because they know its training.”

Merry had burst out laughing when Ludmila paid for Penn’s vial of Alchemist’s Fire, as the Sorceress appeared to be hesitating over its use. It was a ridiculous exchange that would not normally happen in a life-or-death encounter.

“I-I can raise the difficulty…” Mare offered.

“That’s one thing we should do – just a tiny bit,” Ainzach nodded at Mare, “but it’s just one out of many parts of the problem at hand here. Everyone has a different budget for items, and Copper ranks usually have very little discretionary income to work with. That Ranger is a noble, so she can probably afford to start shoring up the weaknesses that she’s noticed…but regular recruits can’t do that.”

This was a problem that had completely blindsided Ainzach when it became evident in the training session. It was a vestige of the old ways of thinking where all the risk was shouldered by individual Adventurers: their own wellbeing was their own problem. Going in, he actually had the opposite worry – that Adventurers would attempt to trivialize their trials by overstocking on items but, save for probably a handful of rare cases, it was an unrealistic worry in hindsight.

“That’s a tough one,” Moknach said, resting his chin in hand. “Ideally we want everyone on the same measure, but, at the same, time we can’t exactly force people to buy specific items with their own coin.”

“Maybe the stipends for each rank need to go up so they can afford these purchases?” Utrecht came forward with the most apparent solution.

“That’s probably not a good idea,” Josin countered, shaking his head. “It’s coin, after all. Maybe most will do what is expected of them, but it’s pretty much guaranteed that we’ll end up with spendthrifts. We’ve all seen it in the past: men and women that come back from a job and they drink it away by the end of the week.”

“Put together kits then,” Ilyn said. “There’s still enough Magician Guild members to cater to the few trainees we have. They can handle putting together sets of potions and other expendable items if you order them in advance. That way, everyone will be equal going in.”

“That seems fair at first,” Ainzach said after thinking for a minute, “but it might do more harm than good. Learning what to purchase and when to use it for any given situation should be a part of training. If we simply tell them what to do, they might end up not being able to figure things out on their own. Even worse, it stifles their creativity and keeps the Guild as a whole from developing new approaches to problems both old and new. We’ll lose our edge.”

There was a long silence with everyone at an apparent loss for a solution. A sharp thump snapped Ainzach out of his thoughts.

“Points!” Mare exclaimed as he tapped the butt of his staff on the wood planks of the floor.

Looking around at the startled faces, he lowered his voice.

“Sorry.”

“Points?” Ainzach prompted the Training Area Manager to explain what he meant.

“Uhm…if you want them to learn how to spend, but you don’t want them to spend gold coins, then make something else for them to spend. Just don’t let them spend more than they have,” his ears drooped a little. “The others will yell at you if you do that.”

“Ah, I get it,” Ilyn caught onto his idea. “The Guild budget can be used to purchase adventuring supplies which are, in turn, only purchasable using the points that they accumulate. Since we know what sort of income each rank of Adventurer has now, we can adjust the prices accordingly.”

“Won’t it lead to the same problem?” Merry said, “It might be more of a pain, but they can turn around and sell the items at market prices to get coin – then we’re back to square one. Actually, it’s worse since members will treat it as an extra source of income.”

“The proctors can keep track of the items they use during training sessions,” Ilyn explained. “The Guild will repurchase those items at the end so there’s little chance of their being sold or misused. I daresay we can use this for everything – potions, expendable items, even equipment. Since equipment is pretty distinct, they can keep those on them: it’s hard to make excuses for a missing weapon or suit of armour.”

Ainzach crossed his arms in thought as he cross-examined the idea in his head. At least on the surface, it would tie up many of the problems that he foresaw neatly.

“If we offer equipment through this point system,” he brought up the first issue that rose in his mind, “won’t we wind up back at square one? People will save up for permanent equipment over more temporary items.”

“I don’t think that’s a problem,” Moknach said. “Unless they’re aiming too high. Even then, with our control over the training curriculum, being too frugal will be a punishment in itself. Adventurers will want to climb ranks as quickly as possible to earn more and start going on expeditions, so being too cheap will cost them more in the long run. As long as the prices are realistic, everything should sort itself out.”

“So if someone hoards their points they’ll be dead weight, or at least underperform,” Ainzach concluded. “The proctors will clearly be able to see this.”

“I think so,” Moknach affirmed. “As we get better at assessing member performance in training, we’ll be able to spot those problems. Well, so long as the proctors have a relevant base of experience to the party.”

“This…might take a while to figure out,” Ainzach muttered, “but I think it’s a solid idea. Doing this will also help our members get used to their equipment and items before being fielded on expeditions. It would also give the Guild a lot of clout in the market for magic items that individual Adventurers don’t have. If we play it right, the crafters might even come to us to sell their goods. The Adventurers shopping around the city and beyond can inform us of useful items and equipment that we can add to our inventories.”

“It should give us a good handle on prices as well,” Utrecht added. “Adventurers get played by merchants all the time. With this, we have the information and bargaining power to keep things reasonable.”

“This feels like it’s going to be a hard sell with the Administration,” Ainzach sighed. “The Sorcerous Kingdom’s resources are focused mostly on domestic matters at the moment. The Prime Minister doesn’t seem the type to be amenable to this sort of thing when she has bigger priorities. What do you think, Mare?”

“I don’t know,” the Dark Elf was intently following the conversation, but it seemed he couldn’t speak for the Royal Court. “Albedo likes lots of details so maybe if you put together enough that makes sense: it might help convince her.”

Ainzach had a passing thought that he might broach the subject with His Majesty, but requesting an audience with what effectively amounted to a budget increase seemed extraordinarily presumptuous. Mare’s thought at least provided a basis should it come to that.

“Alright then,” he decided. “We’ll start off with the budget that we have and work the basics of this point system out, starting from the bottom on up. Once I think we have enough to make a convincing presentation, we’ll run this by a few people before going to the Royal Court…maybe Momon will have a thing or two to say.”

“Ah! Don’t forget spells too,” Ilyn said.

“Should we suspend training until we’re ready to adopt this?” Moknach asked.

“No,” Ainzach shook his head. “It’s too long of a delay. Even if we decide on how things will work, we still have to consult with the Magician Guild and the Merchant Guild to secure the supplies that we need. With the rush for everything this spring, I have no idea when we can actually get a hold of some of the equipment we need.”

“That’s true,” Utrecht nodded. “Everything is so crazy right now with all the projects going on and the planting season in the territories. I went to get my armour repaired after that clobbering today and found out that all the forges are tied up for at least a month straight.”

“That’s going to cause problems as trainees advance,” Ainzach sighed. “Frontliners will be barely scraping by on light armour going into Silver-rank, and it will only get worse as more and more of them start looking for magical equipment. We should be able to get a stockpile of potions and such soon, so the newbies should be able to get through Iron fine…but it looks like somewhere between Silver and Gold will be the wall until we fix our other supply issues.”

Ainzach rose to his feet as their course for the near future appeared to be set. In the mirror, the returning party was still only halfway back to the city.

“That’s it then?” Blair asked.

“That was the big problem, yeah.” Ainzach said, “A few of the rest might depend on how quickly we can set up this point thing…I had some thoughts about providing general information and pointers for various roles, but that will be something we have to put together after identifying problems over multiple sessions. A manual or something similar would be more suitable towards that end.”

“How about classes, then?” Ilyn asked, “The Mage Guild sometimes holds workshops and lectures for their members…or at least they used to.”

“That’s never really been an Adventurer thing,” Utrecht said. “We’ve mostly always been learn-on-the-job types. Never mind that, I can’t even imagine me teaching any sort of class, personally.”

“That sort of thing will probably take a long time to set up,” Ainzach said. “Our new mandate demands a whole lot of unfamiliar things, so I’m not confident that any veterans would be able to teach classes until we’ve mounted a few expeditions and learn what’s needed ourselves. Does anyone have anything else? Something that we can deal with right away?”

“I got one thing,” Merry said. “We need traps that we can work with. Those built-in traps can be made to be detected easily but, since they’re a part of the facility, they’re basically impossible to disarm without some heavy-duty work. It’s good in the sense that our scouts will need to figure out when to leave things as they are, but we also need traps that they can work on or they won’t know what to do when they come across the real deal.”

“Makes sense,” Ainzach said, then looked to Mare. “Is that something you can take care of on your end?”

“No,” Mare shook his head, “the types of traps that I have available are too strong for the weaker floors. I can set aside areas where they can be placed…is that good enough?”

Ainzach turned his head back to Merry, who ran a finger over her lip in thought.

“Uh, I’ll check around with our members to see how many can do that work,” she said. “We have at least a handful that can probably manage it. Scrounging up the parts might be a pain, though.”

“It’s better than nothing,” Ainzach looked around at the assembled Adventurers, then to Mare. “Anything else? Anyone? Good. We need to get to the Guild to go over the results with tonight’s party. Ilyn, can you check and see if there are any mages that can clean them up before they enter the city? Those mirrors don’t deliver odours, but I can just imagine what they smell like right about now...”

Birthright: Act 4, Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Ludmila sat up from her bed groggily, stretching her sore arms over her head. The pain affirmed that the events of the previous evening had not, in fact, been some sort of surreal dream. Smashing endless swarms of cockroaches with her shield was not what came to her mind when she thought about adventuring, but now it was the only thing she could think of. Letting her hands flop down loosely onto her blanket, she scanned her room.

Despite the fatigue from the previous day, it appeared she had still awoken earlier than usual. There was no light coming from behind the drapes and she could not hear the sounds of her household preparing for the morning. She looked around her bed for the documents she fell asleep reviewing: they had accumulated while she had been away for most of the evening. Failing to find them, she poked her head over the edge of the bed to see if they had fallen to the floor but only found her slippers, which were neatly arranged below.

It seemed that Aemilia had cleaned up Ludmila’s solar after she had fallen asleep. Her books and folders were arranged on a desk that had been brought in from another room in weeks previous, and her equipment had been arranged neatly near to the stand on which her only dress had been mounted. Her gaze hovered over the now-too-short forest-green dress purchased just over a year ago.

Every time she thought she would have a portion of her schedule free to head out and shop for additions to her wardrobe, it seemed that some urgent matter would find her and push the errand further along. It wasn’t limited to shopping, either. If it wasn’t paperwork, it was one appointment or another in the city. If it wasn’t something domestic, the Adventurer Guild would come calling. She supposed that she would need to give up for the time being and allow Aemilia the task of having new clothing made while she herself was away on one duty or another.

Too much time thinking about her schedule had roused her to full wakefulness, so Ludmila swung her legs out from under the bedcovers and headed over to the desk. Stretching lazily as she stood over it, she mentally reviewed what was to be done for the morning.

A message from the Cathedral had been delivered while she was away and, by the time she returned home, it was too late to respond. There were several additional requests for goods for her demesne, which needed to be added to the cargo sent out to Corelyn Village before the ship returned from upriver. Taking her seat to sort through what needed to go where, her hand brushed up against a small box that had not been there before.

Curious, she opened the container and found a small mirror on the inside of the lid. The interior was separated into several compartments. It was a jewelry box – but the sole article of ‘jewelry’ that lay within was a dull, grey tag: the Iron Plate bestowed on her by the Adventurer Guild after their team had returned and a short review delivered on their performance. Four of their number had advanced to the next rank while two – Penn and Themis – had been held back on account of the outcomes being so irregular that they had not been able to fully demonstrate their capabilities.

They had accepted the reasoning with no discernable disappointment, and were currently on standby to recover their mana for an exercise later in the evening. The next group of Copper ranks would be tested before lunch. Ludmila and Howe were requested to set up several simple traps in advance, so she needed to sort out her administrative duties before mid-morning.

Not twenty minutes later, there was a knock at the door.

“My lady, are you awake?” Aemilia’s voice asked softly from the hall.

“Yes, come in,” Ludmila answered without looking up from her work.

The door opened and a lamp appeared, followed by her lady’s maid. At some point in the weeks previous, Aemilia had caught on to her mistress’ ability to see in the dark, so she always now came with her own lighting just in case she needed it. The existence of Talents was commonly known; their manifestations often being useless to the point that one may as well not have theirs at all. Having one of practical use was uncommon and considered a boon but, as a whole, they were merely considered a part of the countless unexplainable mysteries of the world. Talents were not questioned or examined overly much unless they were exploited for renown, or happened to become a topic of discussion concerning renowned individuals.

As a result, Aemilia was not aware of the full extent of Ludmila’s Talent – the maid’s understanding amounted to her mistress having some sort of Darkvision. Ludmila supposed that it didn’t really matter when it came down to domestic affairs, anyways. Aemilia drew open the drapes, and she set about her work as Ludmila continued with her own.

“How will you be dressed this morning, my lady?”

“I have to head out to do something for the Adventurer Guild soon, so just the regular equipment will do,” Ludmila said as she began to divide up her orders for the morning. “Actually, before that, was there anything new in the letter room?”

“I will take a look, my lady,” Aemilia replied. “Where would you like breakfast this morning?”

“In the dining room. Keep it light, though – I’ll be doing a lot of running around this morning, but I’ll be back for lunch so I can make up for it then.”

Ludmila stood and flipped through her papers again, adding the separated orders to her file folder. Between them, Terrence and Rodney could have them out within the hour, before most of the other manors sent out their own. Aemilia appeared at the door with a new set of messages, placing them on the desk before her.

“There’s a letter as well, my lady,” Aemilia said as she placed the new work onto the desk. “House Wagner, I think?”

“I guess we’re not the only ones working early,” Ludmila murmured as she broke open the wax seal and unfolded the letter. “Hmm…Lady Corelyn is in the city, and Wagner is hosting lunch.”

“Your response, my lady?”

“It’s early in the afternoon,” Ludmila said, “so I should be back well before then. Have Rodney relay my response on his way out.”

She scanned through the other messages. The first was a cargo manifest of the shipment that had departed the village at some point in the night. It was still entirely timber slated for construction purposes, and most of the proceeds went towards sending needed goods back upriver. Demand had waned for a brief period when the patches of forest that had been allowed to reach E-Rantel’s walls had been cleared away, but the new policies for improving the capital and the ongoing development of the new city quarter devoured the brief abundance. If she left her inventories to the Merchant Guild to auction off, there would be a buyer for everything before the shipment made it halfway to harbour.

The second was a message from Moren Boer: who had in turn received a message from a past associate, asking if they could migrate to Warden’s Vale. A dubious expression fell over Ludmila’s face as she recalled the man’s tale from his younger days. She would need to ask about it in person the next time she had an opportunity.

The third message was a compilation of various questions and requests from her tenants in the village and the newly populated hamlet. Nonna sent these once every few days, but they usually came in at night since she did not consider them a priority and composed them in her idle time. There were worries over housing with the new tenants trickling in; others requested approval for apprenticeships under the handful of tradesmen that now populated the village. More still were smaller things that she was already well familiar with after years of managing the barony under her father: minor disputes, questions about taxes with the upcoming summer harvest and petitions for various conveniences that were not currently available.

They were things she could think on before replying to; nothing seemed overly urgent. It occurred to her that new administrative staff would be necessary soon in Warden’s Vale, or she would be buried trying to keep up with the petty business of her territory. Most of the questions and petitions posed by her tenants were matters that she could deal with personally in the village, but with other settlements on their way she needed to find some way to delegate responsibility. She caught herself as her mind drifted off to how she might organize her administration and rose to her feet to get dressed – there was no time for idle planning.

Upon leaving her solar, Ludmila almost bumped into a pair of Skeletons bringing bundles of laundry down from the upper rooms. Whoever was directing them was nowhere to be seen. She poked her head out of the doorway to watch them before entering the hallway.

“Have you figured out a way to identify which Undead are being directed by different people?” Ludmila asked as she followed them down the stairs.

“Not directly, no.” Aemilia answered, “Wiluvien is responsible for laundry, so those should be hers. Lluluvien does most of the cleaning downstairs, so the ones working down there are usually hers. Terah’s help is usually in the kitchen or cleaning around the house, and the footmen are usually taking care of things outside. They’re quite helpful with moving things around inside, as well.”

“So no one accidentally orders away someone else’s assistants?”

“That’s…possible, I suppose?” Aemilia tilted her head curiously at the thought, “I haven’t ever seen it happen though. If they’re not doing the tasks you’ve set them to doing, surely you’d recognize that they aren’t the ones you’ve been working with.”

“When things get hectic and there are a lot of them around,” Ludmila said as they entered the dining room, “I worry that something like that could happen. If there are dozens of Skeleton labourers working on a field and four for every farmer, it might be easy to commit that sort of error since they’re all doing similar things. We should find out sooner rather than have it happen accidentally. While I’m out, have the Linum sisters try to usurp control of each others’ assistants, then try it between the different staff members.”

“Yes, my lady.”

The drapes of the dining room had been drawn open but, as the sun had not risen above the far wall, the table was cloaked in gloom. A single set of utensils had been laid out on a fresh linen tablecloth for her use. She seated herself at the head of the table and, as breakfast was served by her housekeeper, Ludmila separated the two folders that she had set on the side. Aemilia moved about the chamber, lighting the fixtures.

“Mrs. Ro’eh,” she said, “these are errands for the footmen. I’ve marked out their files for use from this point onwards.”

“The Human footmen, I take it?” Terah said.

“That’s right,” Ludmila smirked. “Also, was there anything around the manor that needs to be addressed?”

The Housekeeper was silent for several moments.

“Well, my lady, the fireplace in the hall is still demolished – that’s something we’ve been waiting on for a while, though. I think you mentioned renovating the hall as well at some point, so it’s probably something that will have to wait until then. There have been no concerns expressed by the manor staff in general, but I believe there are a couple of things that should be brought to your attention.”

“Mm?” Ludmila looked up from her meal.

“It’s a matter that needs to be discussed at length, I think,” Terah seemed wary as she spoke, “when you have the time, of course. It isn’t something that will go away any time soon, but seeing how busy it is at the moment I do not wish to interfere with your work.”

“I see,” Ludmila furrowed her brow, “How about around dinner today, then? I should have a little time to spare.”

“That’s…very well, my lady. Let’s do that.”

The mounting hesitation in her housekeeper’s voice caused the seed of worry to sprout in Ludmila’s thoughts.

“It’s not something bad, is it?” Ludmila asked.

“No, my lady,” Terah replied. “I would not consider it a good thing, nor a bad thing in itself.”

If Terah’s goal was to keep her from being distracted from her work, she was doing a poor job of it. Ludmila sighed as she attempted to push any thoughts about the mysterious upcoming conversation with her housekeeper.

Birthright: Act 4, Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Ludmila was met with an uncommon sight as she entered the Cathedral of the Six Great Gods. Most of the furniture along the length of the aisles had been shifted to the side and several of the temple staff were busy cleaning the floors. It was not an appearance one usually associated with a holy sanctum but, practically speaking, she supposed it was something that needed to be done at some point.

Upon stepping across the threshold into the nave, the nearest figure looked up from her chores. She squinted through the morning glare to the entrance, mop propped up in her left hand.

“Ludmila? Oh, good morning. What brings you here today…”

Themis’ light voice trailed off as Ludmila stepped forward and lowered her head in a curtsey.

“I hope the day finds you well, Priest Themis,” she greeted her respectfully.

The Cleric stood frozen for a second before acting in the appropriate manner…mostly. Through her lowered field of view, Ludmila saw Themis wipe her hands on her black-hemmed scapular, then raising them upwards as if to check for dirt. A moment later, Ludmila felt a light touch upon her head.

“Blessings of The Six be upon you, Lady Zahradnik.”

Unlike the other times her act of supplication was received, Ludmila did not feel the familiar warmth of the divine blessing which usually accompanied the ritual reply. The Cleric’s hand withdrew, and Ludmila raised her head to face her.

“Sorry,” Themis had an apologetic look on her face.

“Still recovering mana for tonight?” Ludmila said.

“Yep,” she replied. “The Guild wants my group to head out late in the afternoon. To be perfectly honest though, we’re pretty swamped here. So many people are coming back to The Six that the staff we have here can’t keep up. It’s a blessing that we’re seeing such a resurgence, but at the same time we can’t even afford the mana to use Clean spells. That’s why you’re seeing us tidying up by hand here.”

Themis gave a nervous laugh. Beyond her, there were six other temple staff seeing to the cleanliness of the interior.

“If that’s the case,” Ludmila asked, “is it really okay to be participating in Adventurer Guild activities?”

“The Bishop encouraged it,” Themis said, “since I was the only one that volunteered. It’s funny – I hear the Theocracy absorbed their Adventurer Guild branches, but here we are sending people to the Adventurer Guild. We need to keep up our presence in as many places as possible to show that we’re here for the people. There’s a Silver-rank Cleric in the Guild as well, but he’s affiliated with the chapel in Corelyn Village.”

“I’m sure you’ll represent this Cathedral well,” Ludmila said reassuringly. “The proctors didn’t sound like they had any real problems – it was just as they said: that session that we had last night was highly irregular. I’ve been on a few patrols that have encountered and fought Demihumans before and I’ve never seen a simple skirmish in the wilderness go that strangely.”

“Oh?” The Cleric’s grey eyes brightened from behind her platinum bangs, “Well, that’s a relief to hear. I lay awake for a while last night worrying if there was something else behind Blair’s words. If I come back with an Iron plate tonight, I’m sure the Bishop will be pleased. If I get to Silver, everyone would be ecstatic since the Temple will have another Second Tier caster around to help out. The handful here have been seeing to the needs that only they can address, but with all the new faces we’ll need more.”

“The Theocracy isn’t sending more temple staff with the growing number of faithful in the city?”

“Not that I’ve seen so far,” Themis replied. “Then again, I’m just a junior priest so I don’t have an ear on all that goes on. We take in a few new Acolytes every week, so even without direct help from the Theocracy, we’ll grow into being able to accommodate the city’s needs eventually. At this rate, we’ll have to build new temples – or take over the others as they shrink.”

“That seems like good news, then,” Ludmila said.

“I know, right?” The Cleric smiled brightly, “The Bishop’s take on everything that has happened was spot on. If Humanity flourishes here, then so will our faith.”

One of the members of the temple staff cleaning the chapel cleared his throat loudly. Themis ducked her head slightly at the sound.

“Erm…anyways, was there something that brought you to see us, my lady?”

“Bishop Austine left a message for me yesterday evening,” Ludmila said, “but it was too late to check on it by the time we finished last night.”

“Oh. If that’s the case the Bishop should be in his office. Follow me please, my lady.”

Ludmila followed Themis over the slick marble out into the side hall, walking over to the front of the Bishop’s office. Themis lightly knocked on the door.

“Yes?” A voice called faintly.

“Lady Zahradnik is here to see you, Your Excellency.”

There was a brief delay before Bishop Austine answered.

“Come in,” his voice called more clearly.

Themis opened the door to allow Ludmila entrance, then closed it behind her. The Bishop was seated at the same desk she remembered, but its surface was littered with volumes of tomes and loose parchments.

“I hope the day finds you well, Bishop Austine.”

“Do I look like a Noble yet?” He answered wryly from behind the piles of documents.

“I’m not quite that busy yet, Your Excellency,” Ludmila smiled. “You might match up well to Countess Jezne, however.”

“Oh, spare me that,” he chuckled. “A colleague of mine in her county has shared all sorts of interesting stories with me about her.”

Contrary to the solemn image he had shown her before, Bishop Austine seemed filled with vigour. Though his work was piled about him, there was a spark of energy in his hazel eyes and his demeanor was light and jovial. Even his thinning grey hair seemed to have regained some of its youthful lustre.

“If you don’t mind my saying so, Your Excellency,” Ludmila said, “you seem very…energetic compared to the last time we spoke.”

“It is no great mystery. Our children are returning to us and E-Rantel grows in the faith. It would be quite the challenge to remain sombre in such circumstances. All this,” he waved his hand over the desk piled high, “is a welcome thing. So many families; so many lineages return to the fold. It is the realization of a homecoming that has been longed for over generations.”

“What does the Theocracy have to say about this turn of events?” Ludmila was curious.

“Nothing, so far,” Bishop Austine replied. “Only their declaration of neutrality from months ago, which is entirely political. I have managed to deliver my accounting of the times since Katze through what channels I could in the past few weeks, but a reply has not yet arrived. I’ve done my best to impress upon the High Council in my report that we are all still very much alive and well in E-Rantel, and that the quality of humanity has risen to the occasion. I’ll send further word about our state here once I straighten out all this paperwork. With life returning to the duchy, I’d be surprised if they weren’t getting information along other channels as well, so hopefully we’ll see some assistance from the south soon.”

While he spoke, Bishop Austine collected several parchments and tapped them on his desk lightly. Rising from his seat, he circled around to present them to Ludmila.

“Here is a list of supplicants that have expressed interest in migrating to your demesne – I believe this is something you asked about when we spoke a few weeks ago.”

“This many?” She said as she flipped through the pages; there were hundreds of names listed.

“There is a wide variety of vocations and they can move in when accommodations are available,” he nodded in reply. “I realize with how busy it’s been in the duchy it may be difficult to have everything ready quickly.”

“They are all followers of The Six? They don’t mind being around the Undead?”

“They are, and it should make little difference since they are from the city. I would wager there are fewer out there than in the capital, so it may even count as an improvement to some.”

“How about Demihumans?” Ludmila asked, “We’re right at the border with the wilderness, after all.”

“It would be much the same rationale, I suspect,” Bishop Austine answered. “With the Demihuman quarter being raised here, we will probably start seeing sizable numbers of them in the city as well. It might be a different story if these people were from the Theocracy, but the remaining faithful in the northern nations have developed a great deal more tolerance than our brethren in the south by necessity. Demihumans have frequented the city on occasion, and I do not know of any incidents related to them involving one of our own – we keep to ourselves, and they to theirs.”

“I cannot begin to express how grateful I am for the Temple’s assistance, Your Excellency.”

“House Zahradnik has always taken good care of their people,” the Bishop said, “and that is all that I would ask on their behalf. This list of candidates will surely grow over time, so please keep me apprised of changes when you have the opportunity.”

“Bohdan’s dwelling is still available,” Ludmila said. “Did you want to send a priest along as well?”

“In the future, yes,” he nodded. “For the time being, necessity dictates that we focus on the city and the territories with the largest populations. When the ranks of the priesthood grow to suitable numbers, I will see to it that as many as needed are dispatched to your territory.”

Ludmila secured her grip on the bundle of parchments before lowering her head in a curtsey.

“Thank you once again, Your Excellency.”

Bishop Austine smiled and waved as she withdrew from his office. Ludmila read through the lists as she made her way down the hall and directly out into the vestibule, not wanting to disturb those inside. Leaving the cathedral, she found the main plaza half-filled with merchants setting up their stands in preparation for the day ahead. She spotted Howe leaning near the entrance of the Adventurer Guild with his arms crossed over his chest.

Walking over the short distance to the Guild building from the Cathedral entrance, she approached and greeted him.

“Good morning, Howe.”

The Rogue turned his gaze away from watching the merchants assemble their stands, straightening from the wall.

“You’re the last to arrive,” he turned towards the door with barely a glance in her direction. “Stuff’s inside.”

Inside, Lord Mare was standing near the entrance with two crates near his feet. Guildmaster Ainzach and the Orichalcum Adventurer Merry were nearby as well, and the Ranger stepped forward to speak to them.

“Everyone’s early, that’s good, that’s good.” The red-headed Elf tapped one of the crates with the point of her leather boot, “You can whip up some traps with all the junk in here. Don’t make ‘em too nasty, though: it’s a run for Copper ranks and the ones that you set are meant to be disarmed. There will be others that are like the ones from last night that are supposed to be too hard to handle directly – we’re mixing things up from now on so our scouts have to decide between spending the time dealing with hazards or just having their groups avoid ‘em.”

“How many did you want set?” Howe asked.

“Hmm...at least a handful per floor,” Merry replied. “Don’t make them too predictable, though. Put them where you think good places for traps would be, but don’t make it too ridiculous if you know what I mean. Nothing in these crates should be too harmful; be careful just in case, though. You’re just setting obstacles where the consequences are made clear to both the trainees and the ones overseeing them.”

Howe stepped up to pick up one of the crates. Shifting the weight around experimentally, he looked to Merry.

“Are we carrying these all the way to the tomb?”

“Mare says he has a way to get there quickly,” Merry replied, “otherwise we would have called you two in earlier. You should have about two hours before the morning party arrives…should be enough to use up everything I’m sending along with you.”

Lord Mare quietly walked out of the building, followed by Howe. Ludmila knelt to hurriedly pick up the second box before rushing after them. Outside, she came to stand beside Howe as Mare walked back and forth in the plaza in front of the Guild, his skirt fluttering about his thighs in the light breeze. After stopping to examine a tree a short distance away, he looked towards them and waved them over.

“Go ahead,” he said.

Ludmila exchanged glances with Howe.

“I don’t get it,” Howe said, looking back to the Dark Elf.

“I cast a spell on this tree,” Lord Mare explained as his eyes shifted around nervously, “it will take you to the same type of tree near the entrance of the tomb.”

No matter how long Ludmila stared at it, the tree still looked very much a tree. The surface of the rough bark appeared undisturbed – there was nothing indicating it would take them anywhere. Lord Mare’s eyes turned watery upon realizing that neither Adventurer seemed to believe him.

Seeing this, Ludmila stepped forward, taking a deep breath as she shifted her grip on the wooden crate. She shut her eyes, envisioning a face full of splinters as she walked into the tree. There was no resistance – only the rustle of the wind through the grass and the feel of the earth beneath her boots. Upon opening her eyes, she saw the familiar grove where the entrance of the tomb lay: except it no longer appeared to be a ruin. At the bottom of a deep depression before her, there was a gaping crack in the stones below.

She turned to the sound of someone stepping onto the grass behind her, seeing the odd sight of Howe awkwardly removing his leg from the tree. Lord Mare followed, walking out to join them at the edge of the depression.

“First, I’m walking through trees, now I’m seeing things,” Howe remarked with incredulity. “Tell me this wasn’t like this yesterday.”

“It wasn’t,” Ludmila confirmed. “Lord Mare, did you make changes to the tomb?”

“Un,” he nodded, “the Guildmaster wanted something different today, so I made a cave with some animals. Tomorrow it will be something else? It’ll stop changing once I expand enough to have different sections per floor. A-anyways, we should get to work. I’ll show you where the animals and built-in traps are.”

Birthright: Act 4, Chapter 18

Chapter 18

The interior of the cavern was not something Ludmila would have expected out of a natural cave. Rather than being damp and dark, it was filled with moss, ferns and other greenery common to a forest’s undergrowth. Streams of light filtered down from cracks in the ceiling, though she did not recall seeing any openings in the ground above the cave entrance. Water dripped from above, and the stones were slick with moisture. The murmur of a stream echoed off of the walls from somewhere out of sight.

“Lord Mare, did you make this all after we left last night?” The scenery of the cavern gave her a tranquil, comforting feeling that she could not help but appreciate.

“I did,” he nodded, but his voice held the slightest tinge of worry. “Is there something wrong?”

“No, my lord,” Ludmila smiled. “I think it’s very beautiful…it’s amazing that you were able to fashion this overnight.”

“Oh.”

Whether he was pleased by the praise of his work, she could not tell. She scanned over the floor and walls of the cave. Much of the plants and fungi she could identify as those native to the region, but there were still a handful unfamiliar to her.

“There aren’t any plants like the one yesterday, are there, my lord?”

At her question, the Dark Elf boy cringed slightly.

“That’s…that’s something I found a while ago deep in the Great Forest of Tob,” he said. “I thought it was cute so I used it as a decoration, but Shalltear got mad at me after what happened. Blair and Merry said it was too dangerous to have around Adventurers below Platinum, so I brought it home. There’s nothing in the caves that are like that – even the creatures that I’ve prepared won’t do anything, so you can work around them without worry.”

While they conversed, Howe opened the two crates that had been set down inside the cavern entrance. As he laid the contents out across the stone floor, Ludmila spotted several spools of wire, springs, vials with various labels on them and an assortment of structural parts – some of which she was familiar with, others entirely unrecognizable.

“Will you be staying with us, my lord?” Ludmila asked.

“Yes, I’ll be watching,” he replied. “Let me know if there’s something that needs to be rearranged.”

She stepped over several ferns to join Howe, who was scratching his chin as he scanned the pieces arrayed before him.

“This’ll probably be more your show,” he said idly while she looked over everything.

“Why is that?”

“You’re a Ranger, aren’t you?” Howe said, “We’re surrounded by, well, nature. If this was some building or ruin I’d be able to figure out where to best place everything, but you’re probably better at it here.”

Ludmila looked through the contents of the boxes again. She thought she could fashion several traps that she knew of with what was available, but...

“I’m not sure what some of these things are for…”

“We’ll get to that when we start finding locations to set ‘em,” the Rogue replied.

Ludmila surveyed the first cavern. Beneath the greenery, hard stone and loose soil lay uneven over the cavern floor, with a patchwork of shallow pools connected by small rivulets of water. The walls were slick with moisture and tufts of moss clung to the surface, hanging out in loose strands. Turning her head up, she saw the first enemy: a large, sleeping bat that hung unmoving from the ceiling.

“Was there a trap in the first room yesterday, Howe?” Ludmila asked.

“There wasn’t,” Howe replied. “Do you think we have to follow that scheme?”

“It might be best to do that,” Ludmila looked to Lord Mare.

“It’s a cave, so it doesn’t have ‘rooms’,” Lord Mare’s voice echoed slightly from where he had wandered to further inside, “but the idea should be the same: make sure the party is functioning properly, then give them something like a challenge at the end that will count as a test for promotion to Iron rank. A-at least that’s what Mister Ainzach wants.”

Ludmila returned to where Howe was replacing all the parts back into their crates and, together, they carried them further into the cavern. She continued looking over their surroundings, wondering how a trap might be placed to the best advantage.

“The first trap I made is here.”

Lord Mare used his staff to point at a puddle in the centre of the path that ran through the cavern. Below the surface of the shallow water, there was a flat stone.

“Did you notice that?” Ludmila asked Howe.

“Hell no,” Howe said. “The light around the cave reflects off the surface of the pool and prevents you from seeing below unless you’re at just the right angle…what happens if you step on it?”

Lord Mare pressed on the rock with his staff. A green slime fell from a hollow in the ceiling, landing in the puddle with a plop.

“This is just a common Forest Slime, isn’t it?” Ludmila said.

It looked similar enough from the slimes that made their home in her fief and the surrounding wilderness. They were generally benign, and preferred avoiding confrontations.

“I-it’s summoned, but it’s a low level Slime. The attacks are weak and it doesn’t have any resistances.”

The Dark Elf made a slight motion with his staff before returning it to his side. The slime scuttled back up the cave wall and into its hollow.

“Maybe the trap needs to be more obvious?” Ludmila wondered aloud.

“Well, if they spring it the first time,” Howe said, “they’ll probably be on the lookout for more like it further along.”

She looked further down into the cavern. It seemed that the Rogue had the right of it – she was paying far more attention to the puddles along the way and spotted the next trap several dozen metres ahead.

“You’re right,” she agreed. “This gives us a chance to set our first trap too. If they’re busy looking for the next puddle trap, they might not notice ours.”

“Is that fair? We’re supposed to be going easy on them, right?” Howe said.

“Are there such things as ‘fair traps’?” Ludmila replied sardonically, raising an eyebrow.

Howe let out a chuckle.

“Fair enough – those are the instructions we were given, though. It’ll work as long as we make it a bit obvious,” Howe set down his crate lightly and lifted the lid. “You’re right that traps aren’t supposed to be fair; if we set one up along those lines that show trainees what to look out for, it would be instructive for them.”

Ludmila examined the path between Lord Mare’s first two traps. Like most of the cave, it was lined with vegetation which contrasted with the bare path running through the centre.

“Is there anything that works with a tripwire that you can lay under the ferns on the side here?”

“Yeah, one minute.”

She watched as the Rogue fashioned a rail for a dart with pieces of wood, setting a spring with a simple release to propel the missile along its course. He held it up in his hands for her to inspect.

“Can that get through a gambeson?” Ludmila asked.

“Hmm...probably not.”

Howe fished around the crate for several minutes before settling on a stronger-looking spring.

“This should do it,” he said. “Just anywhere with cover?”

“Yes, I can lay the wire after you find a spot.”

Ludmila checked through the spools of wire while Howe went looking for a place to hide the dart trap. She settled on one of the thicker ones that would clearly be seen strung across the path. Howe aimed the trap at the air above where the wire was laid.

“Don’t aim it too high,” Ludmila said. “If it can get through a gambeson, it can kill someone if it hits them in the wrong place.”

“Uh huh. Watch out, I’m triggering it.”

Howe plucked the wire leading to the mechanism with a finger and it released the dart with a quiet snick. There was a flash as the projectile drew sparks against the cave wall. Ludmila went off to retrieve the spent weapon, finding the damaged dart below the wall that it had struck. She returned and held it out with its bent head.

“There’s about a dozen more in the crate,” Howe shrugged as he took the dart and tossed it back into the container nearby, “we should be set for the next spot.”

They continued working their way further into the cave, setting several more dart traps and a few barbed snares along the way. After setting up the next series of traps, Howe asked her a question.

“Why do you call the kid ‘Lord Mare?’” The Rogue said as he sifted through their remaining supplies, “Is he some noble’s son?”

Ludmila looked around – it seemed that Lord Mare had gone ahead of them.

“Lord Mare is one of His Majesty’s direct vassals,” she replied, picking up her crate, “as is Lady Aura, his sister. They’re both members of the Royal Court.”

“The R–” Howe stammered, “they’re both nobles then? I heard something about Elven royalty having eyes like that…is that why?”

“I’m not sure about the royalty part,” Ludmila said, “but many of His Majesty’s vassals have that same sort of bearing – even the maids. What I do know is that using the ranks that Human nations use does not translate very well. My liege, Lady Shalltear – she came out of the tomb entrance with them before that first battle yesterday – is also a member of the Royal Court, so I’ve had some small glimpses into the relationships at the highest ranks of the Sorcerous Kingdom in the past few weeks.”

“What’s that like, then?”

“It’s...different, to put it lightly,” Ludmila thought for a moment before continuing. “His Majesty and his vassals are such that the measures we use to gauge power – land, wealth, political influence, connections, strength of arms – are paltry in their eyes. They value fealty, service and the order mandated by His Majesty. It’s easy to draw parallels to aspects of our former nation but, at the same time, there is always something at the edge of my own perception telling me that many things are not as they seem, and often beyond what counts for common sense around here. Fortunately the Sorcerous Kingdom has adopted the laws of Re-Estize, which allows us in turn to better integrate into their ways.”

“The laws of Re-Estize, huh,” Howe sounded noncommittal. “Do you think those will actually work out?”

“I haven’t found any faults with them,” Ludmila replied.

“A noble wouldn’t, I guess.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“It’s nothing,” Howe did not look at her when she pressed him. “If it worked for your land, then it worked.”

A stifling atmosphere settled between them with the unexpected sour note, and Ludmila turned to walk off with a frown. She kept revisiting his words, unable to discern why Howe had taken issue with her reply. There was only his uncharacteristic labeling of her as a noble; the Adventurers that she had interacted with so far usually never brought up her social status in a formal way, and Howe was no exception.

As they reached the final stretch of the cavern, Ludmila spotted Lord Mare using some sort of magic to make the carpet of plants thicker.

“What is the fight in the third section of the cave supposed to be, my lord?” She asked.

“Um…” The Training Area Manager stopped his work, turning around to reply, “Instead of your fight, which slowly mounted pressure, this time they will come quickly. The final fight is six Giant Bats and a Dire Badger.”

“They get attacked by seven giant animals all at once?” Ludmila looked around for the animals in question.

Despite the large cavern that the fight would be situated in, the sheer size of the beasts would make it difficult to fight en masse. Giant Bats had wingspans upwards to three metres, while Dire Badgers were roughly as long as a Human was tall, and three times as massive.

“Er, no.” Lord Mare looked up at the Giant Bats hanging from the ceiling, “There’s not enough room for them to attack all at once. The bats will wake up when someone disturbs them, and will take turns attacking. The badger will come out for the same reason. There should be a few ways for the party to approach the problem, so it’s up to them how they want to handle things.”

“Where are all these animals from?” Ludmila asked, “Did someone run around the countryside catching them? They’re so docile, too. I can’t imagine someone taming them just to have them turned into training objectives.”

“Aura’s pets are too high,” Mare said, “well, actually, she did tame a low level pet last week, but even that one would need at least a team of Mithril ranks to defeat…a-anyways, these ones are just some low level creatures that I summoned, just like the Slimes.”

“Does that mean that we’re always fighting you, my lord?” Ludmila frowned.

“I-I don’t specialize in summoning, so they don’t have any bonuses or anything,” Lord Mare looked up at her, then his eyes widened. “It’s not like I’m trying to hurt the Adventurers – actually I am…wait…I mean, Lord Ainz’s orders…”

Lord Mare’s beautiful eyes started to water, and a look of distress grew on his face. Ludmila resisted the urge to reach out and comfort him. Or maybe tease him. Both seemed equally tantalizing…

“The Adventurers understand that it’s for training, my lord,” Ludmila said, “I don’t think anyone will think that you’re belligerently harming them. Hmm…does that mean that those cockroaches from yesterday were yours as well?”

“They were from Shalltear.”

“…pardon me, Lord Mare – I don’t believe I heard that right.”

“T-that’s why she was there yesterday,” Lord Mare told her, “to deliver them from her place. Their summoner is one of her vassals. Who you’re training against depends on what you’re fighting. The Goblins and Ogres from yesterday afternoon were from a place north of E-Rantel. Cocytus is interested in testing some of his subjects in here as well, so they’ll probably show up when there’s a good match. Then there’s the Undead…well, anything natural will probably be something I summoned.”

To the side of them, Howe cleared his throat.

“These summoned animals here right now,” he asked, “will the party know what they’re dealing with?”

“The party has a Druid and a Ranger with them,” Lord Mare replied, “so they should. Unless I specifically order them to do something, these summons will just behave naturally.”

Lord Mare sent a questioning look to Ludmila, who nodded in agreement.

Even novice Druids and Rangers would know about the wildlife that was local to their region. With their tough hides, irritable nature and tendency to dig up fields and feed on crops, Dire Badgers were considered pests by farmers everywhere. Adventurers taking low rank extermination requests would be well aware of their traits. Rather than seek to flee when injured, Dire Badgers flew into a dangerous rage. With claws and teeth strong enough to burrow through anything short of stone and capable of tearing down fences and trees, even armoured combatants would have to be careful when dealing with them.

Giant Bats tended to behave like most other bats and were plentiful enough to be part of the pool of common knowledge of any local living out in the territories. They were not known to be explicitly harmful, keeping to themselves unless their usual sources of food became scarce. They were large enough to carry off small livestock – or children – with their swooping attacks, but their broad wingspan made them easy to strike at if one was aware of their presence.

This fight would test how each group would approach the problem with the party members available to them. For Ludmila, the question was what to do about traps in the chamber where the fight occurred.

“Lord Mare,” Ludmila asked, “what sort of traps did you place in this room?”

“A smoke trap,” he pointed at a vaguely suspicious set of stones along the path. “They all trigger the same trap and, if the room is full of smoke, the Giant Bats will gain an advantage over the trainees due to their Blindsight.”

“Will they still be able to win even if that happens?”

“It will be harder – Mister Ainzach said they are weaker than your party from yesterday – but they should still be able to get by even if that happens.”

“What happens if they lose?”

“The summons just knock them out,” Lord Mare said. “They won’t die from them.”

“Don’t tell me you want to lay traps that take advantage of the chaos,” Howe said from where he was peering into the Dire Badger den.

“The way it is now, they pass no matter what, right?” Ludmila reasoned, “If it’s a test that’s impossible to fail once you reach the last fight, it seems a little hollow for a promotion exam.”

She heard the Rogue sigh, but he did not voice any opposition.

“Will they be able to disable all the triggers for the smoke trap before the fight starts, Lord Mare?”

“No,” he replied. “They’re built into the cave floor, so all their scout will be able to do is mark them if she’s sneaky enough. If she disturbs the bats overhead while trying to get by them, the fight will start immediately.”

If the party spread out in reaction to the Dire Badger charging out, the dense carpet of moss and ferns would obscure almost any trap. The worst case scenario for the trainees would be waking up the bats before disarming all the traps, then accidentally triggering the smoke trap and having several members fall prey to the other traps hidden around the cavern while they were busy fighting. If they were really unlucky, several key members would be disabled and they would be overwhelmed.

She sifted through what was left of their supplies again. In the end, she decided to set an alarm to wake the bats before their scout could mark all of the traps. If that was thwarted…

“Is it possible to create some pits, Lord Mare?” She asked.

“Yes…where?”

After a few minutes, several deep pits large enough to trap a single adult in were created around the cavern. Without assistance or climbing skills, anyone who fell in would not be able to return to the fight. Ludmila and Howe arranged the remaining pieces of wood available from their supplies into lattices to hold up the soil and plant matter covering them. Lord Mare rigged the pit traps to set off the cavern’s smoke traps as well if one fell into them.

“What are these things that are left?” Ludmila asked as she looked through what was left over in the crates.

“Smoke, sleeping gas, some acid…you’re not trying to use everything here, are you?” Howe raised an eyebrow, “You know overdoing things is just going to come and bite us in the ass later. All of us will be competing to see who can make everyone else’s lives more miserable.”

“I thought that was the point?” Ludmila replied. “This is training for us too – we’re not going to be making purposely nice traps for our enemies when it comes down to it.”

“Enemies? I thought the point of the new Adventurer Guild was to explore; not traumatize everyone we run into with all sorts of nastiness.”

“…fine, we’ll just leave it as is, then.”

“Uhm…they’re about halfway here from the north gate,” Lord Mare informed them, “we should get going.”

Birthright: Act 4, Chapter 19

Chapter 19

The trio quickly made their way out of the cavern and Lord Mare delivered them to the front of the Adventurer Guild using the same spell he had cast earlier in the morning. Several shouts met them as they stepped out of the tree – a food vendor had apparently set up his stand next to it, and several of his customers fell over themselves in surprise. Lord Mare apologized for the disturbance several times before running off into the Adventurer guild.

When Ludmila and Howe caught up, they found the interior of the guildhall empty, save for Ishpen and Wina at the reception counter. They set their crates down and returned to Lord Mare.

“Everyone is probably in the observation room already,” Lord Mare said as they approached. “I-I’ll be going too.”

“Can we come along?”

Howe seemed curious how training was monitored. Ludmila was as well, but the lunch at the Wagner Manor was in an hour. To her surprise, he nodded.

“I guess?” He said, “You’ll see it sooner or later if you become proctors after passing Gold Rank.”

“Nice.”

“I won’t be able to attend,” Ludmila apologized, “There’s a lunch appointment that I need to prepare for.”

At her words, Lord Mare turned and left with Howe. Ludmila exited the building after them, finding herself following the same streets. After several blocks of her tailing them, Howe looked over his shoulder.

“I thought you had lunch?” He asked.

“I do,” she answered. “I just happen to be heading the same way.”

In the weeks following her first visit to E-Rantel after the annexation of the city, its streets slowly returned to a semblance of its former activity. The traffic in the streets seemed mostly on tasks surrounding the territories, with men and women purposely heading to and from various storefronts and warehouses. Many no longer bothered to make wide berths around the occasional Undead patrol or sentry, and wagons drawn by Soul Eaters were given no more consideration than a regular wagon hauling cargo through the streets. She thought that the sight would be utterly incomprehensible to outsiders: that the citizens would be so calm around what all others would normally treat as a nightmare beyond reckoning.

However, just as Ludmila thought this, a new, unsettling sensation filled her. Goosebumps rose on her arms and she felt the hairs on her skin stand on end. Alerted to danger, she placed a hand on the dagger sheathed at her belt and looked all around the city street. The Undead sentries appeared to be oblivious to the feeling, but everywhere beyond their posts she should see the citizens shrinking in trepidation and ducking into buildings. Like her, Howe had stopped walking: glancing nervously about. Lord Mare continued on his way with no sign he had noticed. Unlike the fear produced by the presence of the Undead, which she had long become accustomed to, the new sensation was one of a looming predator. It did not take long for the source to reveal itself.

With a cry that pierced the unnatural stillness that preceded it, a reptilian form crossed over the inner wall of the city. With a long, sinuous body clad in brilliant white scales, it glided overhead, casting its huge shadow onto the streets below. Ludmila tilted her head to the sky and her gaze followed it as it beat its wings once; twice, before disappearing over the roofs of the nearby buildings. Nearby, Howe walked to the centre of the wide street, hopping on his toes to see if he could catch another glimpse of the creature that had just passed overhead.

“Lord Mare!”

Ludmila called to Lord Mare, who was still walking on ahead without a care. He had not missed a step as the Dragon flew by overhead, but he jumped at her shout.

“My apologies, Lord Mare.” She lowered her voice as she fell in behind him, “Did you know a Dragon was coming?”

Another cry echoed over the city street. Ludmila looked up reflexively, wondering if the Dragon had returned. Instead, she saw three Dragons circling far overhead. She could not tell if the first had joined them, or if there were now four Dragons above the city.

“Un,” Lord Mare confirmed. “Shalltear had them fly over to the city from the mountains in the north.”

“Lady Shalltear has returned?” Ludmila asked.

Short of seeing her briefly the previous day, she had not heard from her liege for over a week – the last communication she received from her was the written missive to join the Adventurer Guild.

“I’m not sure what her plans are,” Lord Mare replied. “Was there something you needed to see her about? I can see if I can get a hold of her…”

“No,” Ludmila said quickly, “no. I was just curious, my lord. There is nothing of mine that currently requires her attention – I do not wish to take time away from her duties.”

“Oh. Ok.”

Their journey brought them before the central district’s southern gatehouse. The Crypt Lord – she had learned what it was actually called at some point during her repeated visits to the city – that had given her directions when she had first arrived in E-Rantel was still standing its vigil. She nodded to it as they walked by, but it did not respond to her silent greeting.

“This is where I was headed,” Lord Mare said as he stopped in front of a door to an administrative building Ludmila thought had been vacated. “Bye.”

The door shut behind him, and she heard the sound of running steps behind her as Howe raced to catch up to them.

“I guess Dragons are no big deal to you two,” he said breathlessly as the Rogue passed her to enter the building.

Howe’s parting words made Ludmila look up to the sky again. The Dragons had separated; she spotted three of them lazily making slow rounds over the city walls. Several more crossed her line of sight, and she stopped to count them again. There were four just a few minutes ago, and now there were twelve.

The rustle of leathery wings turned her attention to another, which was perched over the gate they had just entered. It was looking out over the rest of the city, its tail lazily swishing back and forth. It was the first time she had seen a Dragon up close – it was the first time she had seen a Dragon period, actually. Creatures obscured by myth and legend, she doubted that any of the Humans in the duchy had seen one before. Most of her knowledge concerning them came from the tales of Bards, fancifully spun.

Unlike those tales, however, these Dragons were far from the noisy, fire-breathing harbingers of destruction portrayed. They were lithe, agile and possessed of an incredible degree of stealth. Ludmila didn’t even notice the one landing on the gatehouse and, whenever one of them crossed overhead, it may as well have been an owl for all the noise they made. She couldn’t help but marvel at their forms: sleek and powerful predators that she could instantly appreciate, far from the ponderous and clumsy things that appeared in song.

There were rumors of Dragons making their homes in the Azerlisia Range to the north – which was apparently true – and the idea that some Dragons ruled over the Agrande Confederation, which bordered the northwest corner of Re-Estize. It would not be unfair to say that the word ‘Dragon’ was only a representation of an idea: a collection of fantastic tales, rumors and whatever her imagination used to fill the spaces between them.

Now that there was one perched on the wall above her and many flying overhead, the fantastical lore dispersed as simply as if it had been cast into the spring breeze, replaced by the reality before her. They were powerful, to be sure – undoubtedly dozens of times stronger than herself – but, at the same time, they fell short of the legendary image that Dragons had held in her mind up to this point. Looking around at the household servants carrying out errands in the district, it seemed that they had recovered entirely as well. These Dragons were only a small addition to the legion of powerful Undead that had already occupied their city for weeks.

Ludmila found herself standing before her manor without realizing she had walked the rest of the way there in the midst of her thoughts. One of her Death Knight footmen led her up the walkway and opened the door. There was the sound of footsteps quickly descending the courtyard stairs and Aemilia appeared in the hallway.

“Welcome back, my lady,” her maid greeted her with a curtsey. “I’ve prepared a bath and your outfit for lunch.”

“Did anything new arrive?” Ludmila asked.

“Yes, my lady,” Aemilia replied as she rose and followed her up the stairs to her solar, “it seemed to be regular business from the barony. Terrence and Rodney haven’t returned from their errands yet, so there might be something when they get back as well. Still, it seems like it will be the usual routines for this afternoon after lunch.”

Mention of her afternoon work reminded her of Terah’s impromptu meeting before dinner.

“Do you know what Terah wanted this afternoon?” Ludmila asked, “It seemed strangely cryptic, coming from her.”

“I didn’t know before, my lady.” Aemilia replied, “I do now. She’s right that it’s better to focus on your duties until then; it’s not an immediately pressing concern.”

The more her maids assured her that it wasn’t important, the more she itched to know what it was. She pushed it once again from her mind by glancing over the new information from Warden’s Vale. As Aemilia had mentioned, it was simply an update to the village inventories by Jeeves, with requests for various replacement goods that could not be produced in the village.

“Was there anything else from Wagner?”

“No, my lady,” Aemilia said as she helped her out of her equipment. “It seems to be a normal lunch invitation.”

Ludmila finished her preparations with half an hour to spare. Once again, she was in her only dress, with its forest green skirts that were definitely hanging too high off of the floor. She was already acutely self-conscious about the fact that she repeatedly wore it to formal occasions without needing this additional worry.

“Aemilia,” she asked, “would you be able to do some shopping for me?”

“Shopping, my lady?”

“I need a larger wardrobe,” Ludmila told her, “especially for formal occasions.”

“But…don’t you want to be there as well?”

“I do,” Ludmila sighed, “but as we can see now, I never seem to have time. Nothing overly extravagant, just outfits that are presentable for meetings and such.”

“Very well, my lady,” Aemilia said. “I’ll see what I can do while you’re out doing Adventurer Guild things…though you’re due to be back at Warden’s Vale soon, yes?”

“That’s right. We’ll just have to make everything fit in together somehow.”

Ludmila was particularly anxious to return to her demesne. The long list of migrant candidates that had been handed to her by the Temple finally filled several crucial trades whose absence had been throttling development. Even though it was still spring, she felt that there was too little time to finish everything that needed to be done before winter.

“I suppose the best course would be to collect designs and we can go over them while we’re in the Barony...then we can place orders on our return to the city. Will that work, my lady?”

“I think so, yes,” Ludmila replied. “The formal announcement of our new relationship with the Empire will be a week after we return – the new outfits need to be ready by the time merchants and representatives from Arwintar begin to arrive several days after that.”

Aemilia looked down at her hands, silently tallying whatever she had in mind.

“That will be close, my lady,” she said, “but I think I can coax at least one outfit to be ready by then.”

“Good enough,” Ludmila nodded. “Between the demesne, my work here and the Adventurer Guild I don’t think I need a whole lot to start with.”

With one last check in front of the dresser mirror, Ludmila descended from her solar and left the manor with Aemilia in tow.

Baroness Wagner’s manor was on the other side of the gardens that spanned the front of the Royal Villa, a five minute walk away from Ludmila’s own. As House Wagner had opted to live in E-Rantel rather than out in their demesne nearby, the manor had seen a number of extensions and renovations which had transformed it into a building significantly larger than the regular guest manors in the district. It still maintained the general theme of the buildings surrounding it, with its arching limestone architecture that matched the Royal Villa’s but, beyond that, it was fashioned as the permanent residence for a noble house.

Human footmen in the chestnut and silver livery of House Wagner were stationed on the street, ready to receive the day’s guests. A well-groomed young man, perhaps twenty years of age, received her, leading her into the entrance where the Butler awaited. From there, the Butler guided her to the hall of the manor – the room where the official business of a noble house was usually conducted, as well as the place where large functions were held.

Much like Countess Jezne’s aged Butler, the steward of House Wagner announced her entry.

“Lady Ludmila Zahradnik,” he said in a clear voice, and those in attendance turned to look in her direction, “Baroness of Warden’s Vale.”

After a quick scan of the faces lining the tables in the room, Ludmila realized that this was not going to be an ordinary lunch.

Birthright: Act 4, Chapter 20

Chapter 20

Ludmila parted ways with Aemilia, who was to join the servants’ hall. Making her way up the central aisle between the rows of seated nobles, Ludmila came before Baroness Wagner, who was seated at the head table, which was raised to overlook the chamber.

“Welcome, Lady Zahradnik,” she smiled in greeting. “I’m delighted that you were able to join us.”

“The pleasure is all mine, Lady Wagner,” Ludmila replied. “I was not aware that there would be so many attending when the invitation arrived this morning.”

The warm smile on Baroness Wagner’s face faltered, and the warm tone of her voice turned sombre.

“You will have to forgive me for going about things the way I have,” Lady Wagner said. “It was…necessary. I believe you’ll understand why once we get started here. Countess Corelyn has reserved a seat for you beside her – please, make yourself comfortable.”

Two sets of long, ebony dining tables had been arranged parallel to one other, running lengthwise along the hall. Going by the number of nobles in attendance, Lady Wagner could have probably entertained her guests in the more personal setting of her dining room but, for some reason, she had chosen not to do so. Clara was seated at the front of one of the tables, with Baroness Gagnier across from her. Aside from them, it appeared that nearly all of the nobles in the duchy were present.

Most prominent among them was Countess Jezne, who was seated with all five of her direct vassals – four women and a young man – who all held baronial titles. Count Völkchenheim was present as well, seated with two independent baronesses from the western half of the duchy. Ludmila’s mind worked to name them all, but she could only recognize the women in attendance from past gatherings.

“Where is Baron Hamel?” Ludmila asked after she made her greetings and seated herself beside Clara.

“He’s out in his demesne this week,” replied Clara, “so he said he couldn’t make it. That shouldn’t be the case though – he’s not half a day away from the city…it’s too bad, he would have probably liked to see the Dragons.”

“You knew about them before they arrived?”

Ludmila wondered if all her time away from her administrative duties was preventing her from receiving important information in a timely manner. She never had a good ear for political matters in the first place, and her mounting responsibilities were certainly not helping her stay on top of things.

“No, I was just as surprised as anyone else,” Clara replied. “With all the preparations we’ve been making for the official announcement in a few weeks, however, I suspected that there might be more coming to impress upon new visitors the majesty of the Sorcerous Kingdom.”

“That’s right,” Lady Gagnier agreed, “the short-term policies set forth by the Royal Court have been pushing all of the territories along the major trade routes to bring their presentation to a higher standard. The worst sections of the highways have seen refurbishing, all of the villages and towns along them have been cleaned up and will be in full celebratory decor when the announcement is made and trade resumes. The city, especially, is being scoured clean and all the buildings are having their exteriors fixed up.”

“What does that have to do with Dragons, though?” Ludmila asked, “Do you mean to say that they were flown in to just look impressive when traffic from the Empire begins to arrive?”

“That sounds about right,” Clara nodded. “The Baharuth Imperial Guard has a contingent of Air Cavalry with Hippogriffs and Gryphons. I’ve heard that some places use other beasts, such as Wyverns, as well. Dragons patrolling the skies above the Royal Capital of the Sorcerous Kingdom is a clear display of superiority and presents unapproachable levels of prestige. The directives outlined by the Royal Court are clear: the capital duchy is to be the crown jewel of the Sorcerous Kingdom – a peerless bastion of power, wealth and majesty for all the world to stand in awe of.”

The excited energy that was carried in her voice had not diminished since the duchy’s nobles had been set on their course after the announcement of the Empire’s submission to the Sorcerous Kingdom to the gathered nobles in the Royal Villa. It was an event that very much tickled the sense of pride that many of the nobles of the interior nursed within themselves. Though it was something that she could understand if she thought about it, being raised in the coarse borderlands appeared to create a sense of distance between her own sensibilities and those of the others.

The muted conversation around the hall diminished and ceased as Baroness Wagner rose to her feet at the front of the room. She swept her gaze over the assembled nobles before she spoke, her voice filling the well-crafted chamber.

“I must first apologise for taking time out of everyone’s busy schedules with the coming proceedings,” she lowered her head slightly, “but there is an urgent matter that needs to be addressed by the nobles of E-Rantel – something aside from the current preparations underway throughout the realm.”

Liane’s voice was uncharacteristically tense; her face grim. She ran her hands slightly over the pure white tablecloth in front of her for a moment before speaking again.

“I’m sure most of you have guessed what this is about,” she said, “considering who is not present. Those of you with better ears and eyes than my own should already be very well aware of the issue at hand.”

Ludmila turned her head to look from Clara to Lady Gagnier, then to the rest of the assembled nobles. All of them held similarly grim expressions to Lady Wagner’s. None looked to harbour the same uncertainty that encroached on Ludmila’s mind. She resisted the urge to look around, trying to recall the faces and names of those in attendance to figure out what was going on.

“I assume this hall is warded against espionage?” Countess Jezne’s voice rose from her table.

“Yes,” Baroness Wagner replied. “The daily business of House Wagner is run from this office, as are the executive operations of all of our merchant companies. It is guarded from regular spying and warded against divination magic.”

With a nod, she seated herself at her table, ceding the floor to Countess Jezne. The aged matron’s heavy black dress unruffled as she rose, and she cast her stern, brown-eyed gaze over the assembly before speaking.

“Then I’ll get straight to the point,” Vilette Jezne said with a clear voice. “House Fassett is currently undergoing a succession dispute. Most of us have seen Jacqueline Fassett representing her late father’s title in recent weeks. As a result, most of us also assumed that Count Fassett’s son, Campbell, did not survive Katze. However it turned out that he was never at the battle in the first place. Two weeks ago, he came out of hiding and has since then gathered his supporters from around their territory in order to remove his sister from power.”

“Does the Royal Court know about this?” Someone asked after the brief summary.

“I don’t know,” Countess Jezne admitted. “The Royal Court has shown no indication that they are aware of the problem, but it could be that they simply do not care for such matters until it adversely affects the administration of the realm. I may have been appointed to the Royal Court as an...Advisor but, in the past few weeks, I’ve only come to accept many of their ways as inhuman. My role has mostly been to assist as an interpreter between the Royal Court and the House of Lords. Their actions are not driven by the same motives as one might come to expect from one of our own, and they certainly do not care for our politics.”

“Campbell is the legal heir,” Count Völkchenheim said. “If he brings the matter to the Royal Court’s attention, shouldn’t it be easily settled?”

“That is a question I might have expected out of Zahradnik,” Countess Jezne scoffed, “but definitely not from a member of House Völkchenheim. Are you truly so ignorant of your neighbor?”

Ludmila blinked as she was brought up in a way that did not sound very flattering – it did not help that she was indeed entirely ignorant of what was being discussed. Count Völkchenheim seemed to understand the meaning behind the Countess’ derisive reply, however. His lips formed into a thin line as he flushed slightly, nodding a few times in understanding.

“So you’re implying that any direct investigation by the Royal Court will bode ill for us all.”

“That’s exactly what I’m implying,” returned Countess Jezne. “The late Count Fassett may have been able to evade the oversight of Lord Rettenmeier, but his legacy will not escape the notice of the Prime Minister should they attract her attention. I assume no one is so naive as to think that the only one complicit was Count Fassett himself.”

Count Völkchenheim turned his head to look up at the arched limestone ceiling. Several seconds later, he turned his gaze back down again to address Countess Jezne with a sigh.

“So neither Campbell nor Jacqueline Fassett will request the arbitration of the Royal Court,” Count Völkchenheim said, “out of this same fear. If the Royal Court performs a full investigation of the dispute, it will uncover all of House Fassett’s shady practices. Still…this is the responsibility of House Fassett alone – are you certain that the outcomes of a royal intervention will affect us as well?”

“The probability is high,” Countess Jezne’s voice carried no hint of uncertainty. “Even if it was not, it’s still an untenable risk. At least two members of His Majesty’s Cabinet have openly expressed discontent with the allowances provided by the laws which were adopted from Re-Estize. It is not unreasonable that they would use House Fassett as justification to make amendments – or do away with our laws entirely.”

A murmur swept through the assembled nobles. These laws included the ones that ensured the rights and protection of the nobility and how the realm was governed as a whole. In the past, thoughtlessly removing those laws would incite a mass rebellion from the nobility, so the idea was unthinkable in Re-Estize. Even the ascendant Baharuth Emperor needed to preemptively perform a bloody, systematic coup in order to curb the uprising that would have surely occurred in reaction to the changes in his government. The Sorcerous Kingdom had no such issues, however – the law was naught but a paper shield should those in power decide against it: easily pierced, shredded and burned to ashes on a whim.

Or was it? Ludmila recalled her conversations with Lady Shalltear since she had become her vassal: at the least, her liege did not seem to be someone that would callously disregard the stated wishes of His Majesty. The only other members of the King’s Cabinet that she had personally interacted with were Lord Mare and Lady Aura, who both seemed like reasonable enough individuals as well, despite their apparent age.

Countess Jezne, on the other hand, had been appointed the ‘Human Advisor’ to the Royal Court, so she presumably knew all of its members. Perhaps there was something that she understood from her firsthand experience with the other members of the Court that caused her to believe in the likelihood of such an extreme outcome.

“How do you propose we do anything at all?” Clara’s voice rose over the din, “Unless they are our own vassals, we nobles have no right to interfere in the business of other fiefs.”

And therein lay the problem. A noble was an autonomous ruler of their own demesne, bound by the oath of fealty that they swore to their own liege. As long as a noble did not break that laws which applied to them or run afoul of the terms of their contract, the law protected them from arbitrary measures taken by even the sovereign, never mind unassociated nobles. One could not simply decide that they didn’t like their neighbor one day and go to war with them to fix the problem.

“Has Jacqueline Fassett’s oath of fealty been ratified by the Royal Court?” Ludmila asked.

“No,” Countess Jezne answered. “She has not come forward with one yet, as far as I know. With the uncertainty surrounding our place in the future of this nation, many nobles have not done so. But all that means is that the Royal Court can throw the book at House Fassett once they find out what they’ve been up to. It does not give the House of Lords the right to enforce our collective will upon them. The purpose of the legislative branch is to propose bills to the Royal Court, not deliver justice to one of our own – this is the role of His Majesty’s Judiciary, which reports directly to the Royal Court.”

“If the Judiciary deals with House Fassett,” Clara said, “will that resolve the issue in a way that will satisfy the Royal Court? Who is the Judiciary, anyways?”

“Each individual lord still administers justice in their own lands, so only the high courts can prosecute House Fassett.”

“In that case, who heads the Judiciary?”

“Lady Albedo does, at the moment.”

“I think I just heard something ridiculous,” Clara amethyst eyes glinted. “Are you saying that the Executive, Legislative and Judicial branches of our government are all headed by the same individual?”

“Well, the sovereign technically has that authority in Re-Estize as well, within the bounds of the law. As Lady Albedo – the Guardian Overseer – is the right hand of the Sorcerer King, she wields that authority by extension.”

Clara leaned forward over their table after hearing Countess Jezne’s reply, lightly rubbing her temples. Several of the other nobles showed faces that ranged between shock and dismay. Having a single person hold such power was a problem waiting to happen: it was merely a matter of when. All one needed to do was get on Lady Albedo’s bad side and there would be nothing one could do about anything that befell them unless an appeal managed to reach the Sorcerer King. Given how consistently scarce His Majesty appeared to be, the chances of this happening seemed next to nonexistent.

“Then our hands are tied, aren’t they?” Count Völkchenheim rose to speak again, “We have no recourse – there is nothing that we can legally do to fix this.”

“We would not all be here if there was a simple answer,” Countess Jezne snapped. “A single noble can do nothing about this, but perhaps a solution can be found between all of us.”

“Diplomatic pressure, then?” Countess Corelyn ventured, “If a friendly word of caution doesn’t work, we can boycott them as a group through private sanctions.”

“Boycott them to do what, precisely?” Countess Jezne rolled her eyes, “We have two weeks before the territories are reviewed by the Royal Court to ensure that everyone has been made ready. Generations of their corrupt practices will not simply evaporate in such a short amount of time. The moment a single report of their activity reaches the Prime Minister’s desk, she will descend on House Fassett without a shred of mercy – and we’ll be next.”

“We should at least make the effort,” Countess Corelyn insisted. “There are lines that we should not cross but, at the least, we should demonstrate that we attempted to do something about one of our own through the limited means available to us.”

There was a long silence as the assembled nobles thought on what to do. With no other solutions presented, Baroness Wagner spoke once more.

“Then…are there any objections to our taking this action?” Her icy blue gaze swept over the hall.

Heads turned to look at one another with uncertain looks but, with the lack of alternatives, no one voiced their dissent.

“Very well,” she nodded, “lunch will be served shortly. Let us discuss how we can best turn House Fassett from its course.”

Birthright: Act 4, Chapter 21

Chapter 21

The entrance to the hall opened, out of which a procession of House Wagner’s sharply-dressed household servants entered the room carrying trays of refreshments and the first course of lunch. As they worked their way down from the head of the hall, the sound of voices grew into a dull murmur which blanketed the air.

“Why did I have to open my mouth?” Clara said despondently as she pushed her crisp salad around its plate with her fork, “I just said the first thing that came to my mind and now we’re doing it! If it doesn’t work, it will be my fault…”

“Well, it’s not wrong,” Lady Gagnier said before taking a sip out of her wine glass. “It’s basically the only thing we can do…right? Nothing else comes to my mind, at least.”

“It’s not enough,” Clara said. “I don’t think it’s enough, anyways. House Fassett still has full authority over their own demesne – all we’ll be doing is shaking our fist at them ineffectually.”

The three women looked up as a shadow crossed the polished black surface of the table. Baroness Wagner appeared and sat across from Ludmila with her food brought along by a maid.

“Ah…I screwed up,” Lady Wagner fretted, even as she settled herself. “Why did I arrange the seats this way? The Counts should have been up at the head table with their host – now I just look like some ignorant child with a big head sitting up there on my own looking down on everyone.”

The three other noblewomen at the table stared at her blankly. Lady Wagner’s eyes went to each with growing uncertainty.

“Oh gods,” strands of her pale, blonde hair nearly fell into her food as she hung her head, “I was right, wasn’t I?”

“I think you have the right of it…” Lady Gagnier started slowly, “but it hardly matters right now with the establishment poised to crash down on our heads.”

“Eh?” Lady Wagner’s eyes focused as she looked up, “That’s right, isn’t it. I’m sorry for being so selfish – did I interrupt something?”

“Clara was just talking about how she screwed u–ai!”

Ludmila snatched her hand away from the table and turned a hurt look at Clara, who was brandishing her silver salad fork.

“That hurts, you know.”

“Oh, don’t give me that,” Clara sniffed. “I know Adventurers are tougher than regular people – ballista bolts would probably bounce off of you by now.”

Ludmila glowered down at the four indentations in her skin.

“What happened to those table manners that you used to always fuss over?” She asked.

“We’re probably all doomed anyways,” Clara replied glumly. “Perhaps I should become an Adventurer as well.”

“It can’t be as bad as everyone says,” Ludmila said. “This is all an exaggeration right? What could House Fassett have possibly done that would turn the rest of us into collateral damage?”

“Slavery…trafficking contraband?” Lady Gagnier said.

“Extortion and racketeering,” Lady Wagner nodded.

“Conspiracy against their fellow nobles in the duchy,” Clara chimed in.

Ludmila slowly turned her head to each noblewoman at the table as they spoke, she felt her mouth work silently as she absorbed what they had said.

“This…this is surely some sort of joke…” Her eyes went back and forth again between each of them, “No. Nonono – how? How is this possible? They swore fealty to the King; they were nobles of Re-Estize, subject to the same laws as we. Lord Rettenmeier would definitely have not allowed all of that to happen.”

“I know for a fact that you’ve heard that this is not the case,” Clara said flatly.

“Yes,” Ludmila replied weakly, “but I thought they were just vague, unsubstantiated indiscretions at best – not this flagrant violation of Crown Laws that should have definitely drawn the notice of the court.”

“The Royal Provost was certainly a capable administrator,” Clara replied, “but he ruled from the comfort of the city. House Fassett would never let any damning evidence cross the duchy to reach him.”

“Then how did it become such widespread knowledge?” Ludmila frowned, “Everyone else seems to know exactly what is going on.”

“Because we can see the signs,” Clara replied. “Signs of generations of mismanagement and the scars of short-sighted greed. More than that, some of us can feel it. It is hard to describe, but when certain nobles are exposed to such activity, something…happens. I can’t really explain why, but it is an unmistakable sensation: a visceral disgust that taints your senses.”

On the other side of the table, the two younger noblewomen nodded their heads at her friend’s words.

“Warden’s Vale is too far removed to sense any of this,” Clara continued. “Your only connection to the rest of the realm is through short, periodic trips on the Katze River, so it’s hardly surprising that you weren’t aware of any of what had been going on. Your reaction was recognizable enough, though. House Zahradnik has always been adamantly austere when it comes to observing the order of the realm.”

“I’m still not sure I can believe this,” Ludmila said with a quaver in her voice. “If you all sensed it, then why did no one act until now?”

“It is because we are nobles that we cannot act,” Clara explained patiently. “The duties of a Frontier Noble and the remoteness of their fiefs spares you from most of this: if the nation is invaded by Demihumans or monsters, you deal with those threats directly – killing them, chasing them away or deterring them from encroaching upon the borders. The problems that arise in the interior are mostly created by others of our kind, and are not so easy to remedy through force. Of course, sometimes, Demihumans sneak in and criminals like bandits and smugglers can have a lord’s justice enacted upon them but, by far, the largest problems come in a form that is not so simple to deal with. One moment – Count Völkchenheim will certainly lend credence to this.”

Twisting in her seat, she signaled to one of the footmen attending the room. He immediately took notice and quickly strode over, bowing respectfully before standing straight to await Clara’s instructions.

“Inform Lord Völkchenheim that we would like to speak to him,” Clara said. “Sooner, rather than later.”

The footman nodded in acknowledgement, turning to walk away around the aisle. After raising a crystal goblet filled with sparkling rosé to wet her throat, Clara continued her explanation.

“If we arbitrarily act against another noble outside of our jurisdiction, then we ourselves would be breaking the law. If a rogue lord operates in such a manner that does not give others just cause to act, our hands are tied. Even this action – this sanction – is nothing more than a double-edged measure in normal circumstances: it can as much have them delve deeper into their illegal activities to offset their losses as it can encourage them to amend their ways. Given that both sides of House Fassett are invested in their struggle, it is highly likely that it will force both Jacqueline and Campbell to entrench themselves even further.”

“I do not believe this is the only option,” a familiar voice said from over Ludmila’s shoulder: Torkel Völkchenheim had come over from his table. “I apologize for the intrusion, but I could not help but jump in when I noticed your topic.”

The young Count looked around for a suitable place to sit, finally settling on having a chair brought over to the head of the table so he could equally address all four noblewomen.

“In other circumstances,” he said, “I would say that it is a pleasure to be in the presence of such lovely and capable young women, but this troubling business casts a pall over our meeting.”

They nodded politely at his greeting, and Clara picked up the conversation as he took his seat.

“You were saying something about sanctions not being our only option, Lord Völkchenheim?” She asked.

“Yes…yes, I did.” He nodded, “We were discussing a similar outcome at the other table, trying to puzzle out if there was another way to resolve this crisis. With the collective will of the House of Lords being delivered in the form of harsh sanctions, a defensive reaction would almost certainly be the response. I proposed that we give them another avenue to choose from.”

“Carrot and stick,” Lady Wagner surmised. “You propose to give them a more attractive option in the face of a plainly belligerent one.”

“Just so,” Count Völkchenheim smiled at Lady Wagner’s immediate comprehension, “but not only that. Whoever accepts our offer will receive our support in their bid for the succession, and they will be beholden to us from that point forward – after which we can nudge them in the right direction.”

“But in that case,” Clara said, “they will either both refuse knowing that we will gain influence over them, or they will both accept out of fear that the other will gain an insurmountable advantage. What happens then?”

“If they both refuse, then we will proceed with our sanctions,” Count Völkchenheim answered. “If they both accept, then we will settle the claim through arbitration. I know, it will probably not be that pretty – Countess Jezne laughed in my face when I put forward the idea,” he glanced over at the other table for a moment and lowered his voice, “but that sour old goat is almost certainly made entirely out of the sawdust that comes out of her mills.”

“Her reaction is not entirely unwarranted,” Lady Wagner said. “It may simply be replacing one problem with another, and if the Royal Court investigates the matter and notices that we are all holding hands with them…”

Count Völkchenheim’s confident poise deflated somewhat as she poked a fearsome hole in his idea.

“Even if your best-case scenario came to pass…” Ludmila added, “even if the succession was resolved and they corrected their conduct, House Fassett would still need to be called to account for whatever they did.”

“Lord Völkchenheim,” Clara said. “If you do not mind...could you share with Lady Zahradnik what occurred in your grandfather’s time between your houses?”

“Of course,” he replied, “I have nothing but respect for the Frontier Nobles…though I suppose you are the only one that is left around here. Our demesne has had a taste of what the wilderness offers since their decline – to the point where my family has required their scions to prove their worth through combat with Demihumans and monsters. I can only imagine that you are ever focused outwards at the border.”

“That may not be the case for long,” Ludmila answered. “The Sorcerer King’s armies make my station effectively obsolete. I still command the frontier, but most of the work now is done by Undead soldiers rather than Human patrols. With this development, it might be for the best if I was acquainted with the politics of the interior.”

“I am not sure how much Lady Corelyn has shared with you,” Count Völkchenheim said, “but I will start at the beginning. Well, the beginning of what matters here. It is not an exciting tale by any measure, really…”

Count Völkchenheim swirled his drink for a minute as he collected his thoughts, the crystal glass glinting in the light of the magical lamps above. After downing half of what remained, he leaned in to tell his tale.

“It is not difficult to notice that Völkchenheim County is rather small compared to other, similar territories: it is barely the size of two Baronies…neither is it very well developed, if I were to be perfectly honest. The village where our manor is only has a single inn for merchants and a handful of stores, and the people do not live the lives that their hard work should have earned them. Though the decline of the Frontier Nobles had some small part in this, it is more due to what happened in my grandfather’s time.

Our family’s demesne originally had four baronies: two which ran along the western highway and the two we hold today. House Fassett was not satisfied with the small stretch of the road that they controlled and they sought to wrest our part away from us. They…engineered an incident. The previous Count Fassett married one of his daughters into House Völkchenheim – to the younger brother of my grandfather, who was granted one of the baronies along the highway to administer.

We did not know of House Fassett’s…disposition back then. Or maybe that is just when they began the fall into their current state. My grandfather simply thought that it was a friendly overture to seal an amicable relationship between our two houses. But then that woman who married my granduncle began to twist everything about him. Under her influence, he changed…for the worse.

My grandfather tried to reason with him, but everything he said seemingly fell on deaf ears – so twisted my granduncle was around the Fassett woman’s little finger. Within the first year of his marriage, my granduncle implemented several policies that were poorly thought out or even plainly greedy and harmful to the people. By the third year, his barony was clearly in bad shape: bandits and highwaymen were rampant and there were rumors of other shady groups entrenching themselves there.

It was then that my grandfather decided to end the problem and strip him of his title…but, for the love of his dear brother, he had waited too long: House Fassett was well ahead of him by that point. When he arrived at my granduncle’s manor, my Grandfather instead found a Crown Prosecutor waiting for him. He was sent to trial in E-Rantel, accused of abusing his powers, mismanaging his demesne, and flouting the contract between himself and King Rampossa. With House Fassett and all of their well placed ‘witnesses’, he could not defend himself adequately from the charge – even the Provost at the time was also in House Fassett’s pocket.

The court’s verdict was that my grandfather was unfit for his duties and he was stripped of half of his titles for his ‘corrupt acts’ and the failure to uphold his obligations. Both of those baronies taken away were to be awarded to House Fassett so they could ‘properly oversee’ them, but the King in the end decided to grant one as a title to an unassociated noble who had risen through service elsewhere.

The damage was done, however. House Fassett now had control of a huge stretch of the western highway, free to exploit it as they pleased, along with their newly acquired barony. My granduncle died of an ‘accident’ shortly after that, and my grandfather died a broken man, leaving what was left of our impoverished county to my lord father. The Provost stationed in E-Rantel continued to work for House Fassett, and retired to the Royal Capital decades later a wealthy man. Lord Rettenmeier was appointed in his place shortly after.”

In the silence that followed, Count Völkchenheim drained what was left of his glass and returned to his table without a word.

“Now do you understand what House Fassett is?” Clara’s voice held a tinge of anger following the recounting.

“…Lady Zahradnik, are you alright?” Lady Wagner’s voice came from across the table, jarring Ludmila from her thoughts.

Her unfocused vision sharpened and she saw Baroness Wagner looking back at her with a worried expression. Clara and Lady Gagnier were looking at her the same way as well.

Ludmila was uncertain what sort of face she was putting on, so she looked down at the table instead. There, over her murky reflection, she found that her hands had turned white: gripping the wooden table so tightly that her fingernails were leaving marks over the polished surface. She slowly loosened her grip, but now all the tension had nowhere to go. Hiding her hands under the table, she flexed and unflexed her fingers and, finding that it didn’t help at all, she forced her hands to rest on her lap.

“I’m alright,” she answered tersely. “I’m al–”

I’m alright? There’s no way I can be ‘alright’.

Ludmila swallowed before speaking again as emotions continued to roil around somewhere deep inside her.

“I’m sorry, I must excuse myself,” she said as she rose abruptly. “Please, let me know what is decided upon later.”

She stepped away from the table and brushed past the startled footman who had stepped forward to attend to her, rapidly making her way towards the exit.

Birthright: Act 4, Chapter 22

Chapter 22

Unfortunately for Ludmila, leaving the Wagner Manor did not have the effect of leaving the agitating feelings behind. As she walked along the street, she glanced over her shoulder several times wondering if there was a dark cloud following her, but the bright afternoon skies only returned her foul mood with indifference. The Undead sentinels and even the servants she strode past did not seem to react to her either, simply continuing on their way to fulfil whatever errands they had been tasked with.

Her steps echoed harshly against the buildings and nearby wall as she meandered through the district, wrestling with the emotions swirling within. After Ludmila had gone a quarter of the way around, the sound of a second set of distant steps joined her own.

“My lady!” Aemilia’s voice called out from behind her, “Please, slow down!”

Ludmila’s furious pace faltered, the realization that she had simply left her lady’s maid behind dampening her feelings for a moment. The steps settled in behind her, but Aemilia remained silent as she caught up and followed.

“I suppose I should thank Wagner for letting you know that I stormed out like that,” Ludmila was still having trouble modulating her voice.

“No, my lady,” Aemilia replied. “I felt…something…and left the servants hall to see if there were any problems, only to find out that you had left. If I may ask, my lady: is something the matter?”

“There is,” Ludmila said. “I heard something that did not sit well with me, and now I feel…I lack a proper way to describe it. It is like a disgusting, oily film that has coated me from head to toe – within, anger that rises from somewhere that threatens to set it all aflame.”

It felt so real that she had to constantly fight to keep from unconsciously checking her skin and hair and, being unable to cast it away, she could only walk along as her skin crawled. She wondered if she was going crazy; anyone that heard her description would certainly believe it to be the case.

“I-is it magic?” Aemilia asked, “Did someone cast a spell on you? Maybe you should visit the cathedral…”

“I don’t think so,” she replied. “Threatening or casting hostile magic on others is a criminal act – no one would risk doing so in a hall full of nobles…”

Or would they? The sprinkling of questionable actions that she had heard about over the weeks, finally culminating in Count Völkchenheim’s tale, was now casting the shadow of doubt on everything.

“None of the others seemed so affected, at any rate,” Ludmila continued. “Lady Corelyn said that it had something to do with being a certain sort of noble, but what she described is only half of what I am feeling right now. She said nothing about this…ire. Perhaps they felt the same way, but have become accustomed to managing it.”

Ludmila was already shocked into disgusted silence long before the end of Count Völkchenheim’s tale. She was barely able to parse any of it: not the motives, nor the methods or the outcomes. It did not help that the haze of anger had painted her vision white as his account reached its conclusion.

She understood each individual point in the story but, for the life of her, she simply could not understand why they would do it, or how House Fassett could even bring themselves to act in such a manner. It flew in the face of everything she had been raised to believe by her family, friends and mentors. Even more so than that, Ludmila’s irrevocable sense of duty, impartial justice and unflinching fortitude was something that was etched into her soul – it was her very existence, and what she had heard was anathema to her.

“You are stronger than they are, my lady,” Aemilia offered helpfully. “Maybe it’s like how those who are more established in their craft or more advanced as an Adventurer express their abilities more clearly. At least I think that’s what happened to me: when it happened to you, it roused me as well. We should know for sure if we check the staff in the manor.”

Aemilia’s suggestion seemed reasonable. Ever since Lady Shalltear had brought her to the realization that she had these abilities, her continued experimentation surrounding the application of them had opened her mind to the idea that such abilities were actually a common thing in the everyday lives of the people – that they had long since incorporated them to the point that it seemed natural, and only overtly supernatural feats were considered special.

The sensations continued to follow her even after she had rationalized and framed them in a tentative manner, however. Cutting across the front of the Royal Villa and through its pristine gardens, they were back in front of her manor in a matter of minutes. Ludmila stopped to look at the two Death Knights keeping watch over the entrance. When Aemilia mentioned that it might have been an ability that spurred her from the servant’s hall of Wagner’s manor, she thought her two Undead footmen should have come running straight to her through the same ability; they had been with her for as long as Aemilia had. On the other hand, Lady Shalltear had mentioned that the Undead were immune to mind-affecting abilities so it was entirely possible that, since it was driven on strong emotions, that the Death Knights were simply not affected.

A wide-eyed Terah appeared immediately after one of the footmen opened the door.

“My Lady!” She came forward worriedly, “are you alright?”

Behind her, the Linum sisters poked their heads out into the hall.

“Did everyone else feel that as well?” Ludmila decided not to dance around the topic: they would know what she was referring to if it had happened.

“No, my lady,” Terah shook her head. “The Linum sisters and I felt it, but Terrence and Rodney were out on errands and did not come running back. If I may ask…what happened, exactly?”

That her Human footmen had not been affected did not come as a surprise – they had been hired while she was away and worked in the city exclusively. Ludmila barely saw them, so there was little time to develop any sort of connection: she was simply their employer and nothing more. She wondered if the receptiveness of her vassals could be used as a gauge of loyalty, or if it was simply a matter of time before she established her authority over them.

“I received some unsettling information,” Ludmila said. “I believe it is something that needs to be addressed soon…but I am not sure how.”

“I see,” Terah said. “I figured it had something to do with Baroness Wagner’s lunch – it ran far longer than a simple meal between friends.”

“It is still ongoing,” Ludmila told her, “but I could not stay. I…was unable to handle any more of what I had learned there.”

“If you need some time to yourself, my lady, I can postpone our afternoon meeting…”

“No,” Ludmila immediately answered, “I cannot afford to fall behind on my work – more and more things keep appearing to demand my attention. Luzi, check the letter room for messages.”

“Yes, my lady,” Aemilia said and stepped into the office nearby.

Ludmila attempted to refresh herself in her solar by taking a bath, but the disgusting sensation she felt over her did not wash away so obligingly. She returned to the main floor of the manor in more comfortable garb to see if she could get some work done. Even leaving the meeting at the Wagner manor early, there were scant few hours left in the afternoon to catch up with her administrative duties in the drawing room. Settling into familiar routines and organizing her thoughts did not help her mental state in the slightest: what had manifested during lunch remained with her even as she focused on her work.

Aemilia appeared thirty minutes after Ludmila had started, carrying in the tea set upon its familiar silver tray. Ludmila glanced to the side and saw that her maid still wore the same look of concern that she had on the way back to the manor. Ludmila leaned back on her chair, letting out a sigh as she watched Aemilia prepare tea.

“Am I still doing it?” Ludmila asked.

“It…? Oh, yes,” Aemilia replied. “It’s a very odd feeling, my lady, even now that I know what it is. Unlike your usual fortifying influence, this is quite agitating…”

Ludmila had shared a few of her findings with her lady’s maid in weeks past. As limited as it was, it was useful to have someone close to her that was benefitting from the effects of her abilities to provide feedback – unlike the generally tight-lipped Undead in her service that were also sometimes beneficiaries of her abilities. For Aemilia’s part, she had not even questioned that it existed at all or thought it was out of sorts. If anything, it only added to her maid’s impossibly lofty image of her.

“I need to get this under control somehow,” Ludmila muttered. “I must be inconveniencing everyone with this. Are you even going to be able to sleep through my constant prodding with this…ability?”

“Well, we can hardly blame you, my lady,” Aemilia straightened from her work as she replied. “If it has something to do with what you are…being in the service of a great noble is something that any of us would desire.”

“Countess Corelyn hasn’t described this problem, though. Her own abilities are more…normal. They could even be overlooked if you didn’t know what was going on.”

“Perhaps it’s not the same, my lady?”

Aemilia set the teacup down in front of her with a loud clack, which made her wince. She raised her hand in front of her face in bewilderment.

“Apologies, my lady,” she frowned down at the table, “I don’t know why I put the cup down so roughly.”

Ludmila had a pretty good idea: her ability, which was agitating her subordinates, was giving them a taste of what she had been feeling since lunch. She suspected that the other maids were expending this aggression on their chores as well.

“What was that you were saying about not being the same?” She asked Aemilia.

“Oh, yes,” Aemilia looked away from the cup back to Ludmila. “Since you mentioned Lady Shalltear told you that it was the ability to command, perhaps it’s related to martial vocations? Everyone knows that Frontier Nobles are ‘different’ somehow but, until I came into your service, I didn’t truly know what it meant beyond people simply saying so.”

“So rather than look to other nobles for comparison,” Ludmila said, “I should look elsewhere for my answers?”

“Yes, that’s exactly it, my lady,” Aemilia replied. “In the old stories, Frontier Nobles led their retinues and armies to defend the nation from threats – Demihumans, monsters, bandits and even waged war on other Human territories. You are also strong enough to be an Adventurer, which is not something most nobles can claim. Rather than the…soft…nobles of the interior, you might want to look to great captains and generals. To the stories of warrior kings and marcher lords – everything that I’ve seen of you appears to point in that direction.”

“The Great Houses of Re-Estize have long stopped being marcher lords,” Ludmila muttered, “even though they still fashion themselves with those titles...”

“I agree, my lady,” Aemilia nodded. “They are no longer the same as what their titles originally demanded from them. I’ve heard that the Legions of the Empire have fighting nobles in their ranks…they might be the most promising lead?”

“So,” Ludmila smirked, “in the meantime, I will have four inexplicably angry maids buzzing around the manor like disturbed hornets, controlling a bunch of Undead. Gods know what will happen to me bottling these feelings up until I can arrange a meeting with one of those rumored imperial nobles.”

Aemilia momentarily made a strange face at Ludmila’s words before clearing her throat and wiping the expression away.

“Then…Lady Shalltear?” She asked, “It may be improper to request an audience with your liege for such a strange issue, but…”

“If I meet with her, I would definitely have to explain why it is happening,” Ludmila replied.

Aemilia’s confused expression prompted Ludmila to explain further.

“The House of Lords is attempting to resolve the source of this issue without the intervention of the Royal Court,” she told her.

“…are things really that bad?” Aemilia asked.

“To be honest, I don’t know,” Ludmila admitted. “Lady Shalltear has shown me so much patience and favour that I cannot help but feel that the other nobles’ perception of the King’s Cabinet to be at great odds with my own experience with their members. Even Lord Mare and Lady Aura do not seem like such fearsome people. But the inner nobles are more well attuned to politics than I am, and are most likely better at reading others in these matters. Countess Jezne has navigated the intricacies of this realm for longer than both of us combined have lived, and she holds an advisory position on the Royal Court besides. Surely there’s something that she sees that I do not.”

“Then it is a choice,” Aemilia said. “A choice between the trust that you hold in your liege, and the will of the House of Lords.”

Ludmila stared at her maid: Aemilia’s decisive tone was entirely out-of-character to her usual complementary demeanor.

“Apologies for the presumption, my lady,” she bowed, “but I feel that this must be said. As your faithful lady’s maid – wherever you lead, I will follow. I trust that my lady will make the right decisions, and I will do whatever I must to assist you in your duties. I know that this is rarely the true relationship between liege and vassal…but shouldn’t it be that way as well?”

Her lady’s maid collected the lukewarm tea that had remained untouched throughout their conversation. Setting everything securely back on the silver tray, Aemilia walked away towards the entrance of the drawing room.

“Thank you, Aemilia.”

“I am at your service, my lady.”

Birthright: Act 4, Chapter 23

Chapter 23

…you will toil and struggle and fight and die against any and all intruders that would come, as your House has done for generations. Yet, for all of these efforts, your names become as dust to those that reap the benefits of the peace that you win for their lands.

Lady Shalltear’s words of a month previous returned to Ludmila’s recollection, and a tear rolled down her cheek as she bit her lip in frustration.

Lady Shalltear knew.

By her words, she knew, and Ludmila was entirely oblivious to them at the time – replying like some naïve child: eager to repeat what she had learned as a diligent pupil.

Everyone knew.

Everyone but a certain Frontier Noble.

Ah, what was this called again? Being ignorant? A fool? A loyal, stubborn fool: the last in a long line of loyal, stubborn fools.

Even when warned – even when told directly, her heart refused to believe that someone entrusted with the duties of a noble could conduct themselves in such a manner. Right until Count Völkchenheim’s tale of House Fassett was forcibly crammed down her throat, at a point where everything threatened to collapse around her once again. All of her preconceptions of the world and how it should work had been steadily crumbling away since she entered Lady Shalltear’s service and, now, even the ways that defined her very existence were cast in doubt.

Generations of unwavering service. Generations of stalwart vigilance paid for in blood.

And for what? So that others could skirt the law and play their games of intrigue? Ludmila recalled her father’s expression of gratitude over their meagre stipend – the price the others paid for peace – which allowed them to uphold their duties: to continue to hold the border. Her feelings over the memory warped, tainted with her new understanding of its meaning. Rather than being seen as reliable peers, supported by the efforts of the realm as a whole, they had been treated as nothing more than guard animals sustained by table scraps.

Was that all her family and people amounted to? Was it all that they were worth?

How her realizations repainted her knowledge of the past was not even the worst of it. If Lady Shalltear knew, it was almost certain that the Royal Court knew as well. Countess Jezne’s fears were probably justified: the central administration would simply allow the situation to develop to such a degree that it could be used as damning evidence against retention of the laws that they were so dissatisfied with. It would be a fatal blow to the aristocracy, and a permanent stain against the hundreds of thousands of Human citizens of the Sorcerous Kingdom.

All of the efforts of the past month; the promising future laid before them: all torn apart by a noble house still mired in their old ways…and no one but the Royal Court – who had no reason to move until it suited their purposes – possessed the legal authority to stop them.

The faint sound of objects clattering to the ground, followed by the crash of plates, came over from across the courtyard. Ludmila unclenched her fists and took several deep breaths. With the source of her ire at the forefront of her mind, her continually rising sense of aggression was probably wreaking havoc with her maids’ work.

Ludmila closed her ledger and put away the last of her tasks for the afternoon, trying to untie the angry knot in the pit of her stomach. There was no point in fuming powerlessly over the reality that now faced her: all there was was to follow through with Aemilia’s pointed counsel. Her maid understood that things were not usually so ideal either, but, rather than fret over the state of affairs, Aemilia had placed her trust in her liege: confident that Ludmila would find a way.

Rather than agonize over whether she should change her ways, Ludmila could only remain steadfast and see them through. She would place her trust in Lady Shalltear, and depend on her liege an answer to their dilemma. If the old ways of the court had been ineffectual against House Fassett for generations, continuing to pursue those methods was pointless – a new way was required to deal with them. If only she could figure out how to broach the subject with Lady Shalltear, and what she might be able to do to help.

It was admittedly an odd feeling for a worshipper of the Six Great Gods: that she would trust in an inhuman liege because those of her own kind had proven to be untrustworthy; their ways insufficient. Yet, as Bishop Austine had told her, the champions of humanity in the Sorcerous Kingdom would be the ones who secured a place for them. It was a rare thing for faith and politics to align, and in such a strange way, at that.

After several minutes chipping away at her anger, she managed to reign it in – but not in the sense that the unwelcome sensations had gone away. Instead, the vague and pervasive feelings had coalesced into something more defined: like an arrow, ready to be loosed at…whatever it was. For the time being, she still did not have a means to launch that arrow at anything, but it was far better than being tossed about by her feelings with no end in sight.

The light tapping of shoes could be heard from behind her, and Aemilia entered the edge of Ludmila’s vision.

“Are you feeling better now, my lady?” Aemilia asked.

“Yes, thank you,” she replied. “Is everything alright in the kitchen?”

“The Linum sisters sort of…crashed into each other moving a few things around,” Aemilia said. “They’re cleaning up the aftermath right now.”

“That was probably my fault again,” Ludmila sighed. “I really need to get this under control.”

“It’s actually gone now, my lady,” Aemilia said. “Just before I entered the room, it vanished almost entirely.”

“Really? Then at least it’s one less thing to worry over,” Ludmila said. “Was there something you came to see me about?”

“Yes, my lady,” Aemilia replied. “There was the matter of your appointment with Terah this afternoon.”

“Of course. I forgot how curious I had become about that – let them know that I will see them now.”

“Just one moment, then, my lady,” Aemilia replied. “I will get the others.”

The others? Ludmila frowned. Just how many people did Terah’s matter involve?

Several minutes later, Terah returned with Aemilia, Wiluvien and Lluluvien. Ludmila had not seen them all in one place since they entered into her service. Craning her neck to look around them, she half expected the Death Knights to be somewhere as well, but they were nowhere to be seen. Terah, Wiluvien and Lluluvien lined up before her, while Aemilia stood at her place behind Ludmila’s shoulder. The arrangement seemed suspiciously similar to when she had been introduced to the Linum sisters, the morning after they had arrived.

There were distinct differences, however. Her maids no longer had their frightened and haggard appearance. Wiluven and Luluven, especially, were no longer so thin and weak looking. Their dull, half-dead look had disappeared; their steel-grey eyes bright and sharp. Glossy teal hair had grown below their shoulders and their postures were no longer so timid and filled with uncertainty.

When they curtseyed deeply to greet her, however, Ludmila felt something was off. She tilted her head curiously at the gesture that was far too formal for regular domestic activities. As she looked at them, they looked at her – the impasse was a bit annoying.

“Speak.”

Both started at her command, and they spoke after a brief glance at one another.

“Lluluvien is with child, my lady,” Wiluvien said.

“Wiluvien is with child, my lady,” Lluluvien said.

Ludmila blinked slowly, then blinked again. Her mind did a little flip and worked frantically to make sense out of what was being said.

“Are you trying to have me guess which one of you is pregnant?” Ludmila said.

“They’re both pregnant, my lady,” Terah replied flatly.

“How long has this…how long are Elves – Half-Elves even pregnant for?”

Elves were rumored to live ten times longer than Humans, aging at relatively the same rate. Did that mean Elves were pregnant for ten times longer than humans? It was a vaguely horrifying thought.

“I think our mother said she carried us over three seasons, my lady.” Lluluvien said.

Ludmila breathed a sigh of relief. She examined her chambermaids again: they certainly didn’t bear any signs of their pregnancy.

“Then…this was from that time under Count Fassett’s orders?”

They nodded. Ludmila sighed again, then looked up at the limestone ceiling. She had not the vaguest sense of what to say, or what to do.

“Alright…so you are both with child. For what reason did you want to meet with me?”

“I thought you might want to decide what to do with them, my lady,” Terah said.

What to do with them? What did she mean?

“I’m sorry, my lady,” Lluluvien said, “are we fired?”

“What!” Ludmila nearly shouted, which made her maids flinch, “Why would I dismiss you? Do I really seem like such a terrible person that you think I would toss two pregnant retainers out into the street?”

“N-no, my lady,” Wiluvien replied. “I’m sor–thank you, my lady. For the both of us.”

The Linum sisters curtseyed again, even deeper than they had before.

“What about their work, my lady?” Terah asked.

“The Skeleton labour that they are directing should be able to do most of it, should they not?” Ludmila answered, “They might not be able to do some specific things that require their personal attention, but we can bear with it for a month or two. They may retain their positions, if they wish.”

“Very well, my lady…but what about after?” Terah posed another question.

“What do you mean?”

“They plan on raising their children, but children take a lot of time, work and money. Is it really alright?”

“Based on the projections for demesne revenues,” Ludmila told her, “funds for food and sundries is hardly an issue any longer. It would have no more effect on my finances than supporting any of the other household retainers that the Undead labour has rendered unnecessary. Even if all of you decided to have your own families one day, I would not mind…as for figuring out what to do with the babies when they finally arrive, I suppose we can figure that out when it happens. It couldn’t be that bad – better than trying to raise them alone, at any rate. Since a good portion of your work is done through the Skeleton labourers, you may be able to perform your household tasks and tend to your children at the same time.”

The thought of advertising the Skeleton labourers as a boon for homemakers and working women everywhere drifted up from the depths of her mind. Well, maybe she should try it in her own demesne first before forwarding the idea to the central administration. The opportunity was right in front of her, after all.

“If that’s the case,” Terah said, “then I have a suggestion.”

“I’m listening…”

“It would not be appropriate to raise children in a city manor – especially one that is meant to only house Nobles and entertain their guests. Taking them to Warden’s Vale would be the best option.”

“You two are alright with this?” Ludmila looked to the sisters.

“They’re the ones that expressed interest in it in the first place,” her Housekeeper said as they nodded in confirmation. “After Ms. Luzi told them about Warden’s Vale, they’ve wanted to make the move ever since.”

“We’re sick of the city, my lady,” Lluluvien said. “Even though our lives have been good ever since we came to you…the memories remain. Please take us with you: we would very much prefer to live away and surrounded by nature.”

“In that case,” Ludmila said, “I have no objections. Accommodations will be a bit cramped but, as the demesne grows, extra hands will be needed for the household there anyways. Mrs. Ro’eh, how long will it take to train or hire suitable replacements for the city manor?”

“Hmm…that would depend on that Head Maid in E-Rantel, Miss Veyron. She still avoids dealing with us like before. The new footmen took a couple of weeks, so I’d expect it to at least be about the same.”

It wasn’t a long time to wait and, given the impending crisis in Fassett County, it might be enough time for them to contribute in some way. Given that Countess Corelyn had proposed the notion to deliver sanctions against House Fassett, and she was also not a neighbouring noble that would be suspected of having a conflict of interest in the matter, it was likely that she would be sent to the territory in the west. With the unscrupulous nature of House Fassett, Ludmila didn’t want her friend to go with nothing but a light diplomatic escort.

As the timing seemed so ideal, another thought came to her.

“Wiluvien. Lluluvien.”

“Yes, my lady?” They replied in unison.

“Before you go to Warden’s Vale…would you like to help in bringing House Fassett to account?”

The Linum sisters exchanged glances with one another, then returned to look at her in confusion. The hungry gleam in their steel-grey eyes was unmistakable, however. They listened quietly as Ludmila explained that situation in Fassett County, and the dilemma of the House of Lords. After she finished her explanation, Terah did not look surprised, but Aemilia was livid.

“That’s…that’s…how could they?” Aemilia could not hold back her outburst, “Is this what triggered everything this afternoon?”

Ludmila nodded and turned her attention back to her chambermaids.

“I understand if you do not wish to come – you now have more to care for than just yourselves, after all – but you will be well-protected for the help that I might need from you. As you are familiar with House Fassett’s demesne, the information you can potentially provide may prove invaluable.”

“We’ll go,” Wiluvien spoke right on the heels of Ludmila’s words. “Both of us will go – doing this will mean so much to us. Our mother should still be somewhere in their county as well: we would like to find her, if possible.”

“That’s not something I can promise you,” Ludmila said, “as we won’t be going there for that purpose. If the opportunity arises, however, I will see what I can do.”

“Yes, my lady,” they said. “Thank you, my lady.”

“Then we’re settled.” Ludmila said. “Luzi, prepare some regular clothing – ten days’ worth. I’ll have to have this dress cleaned up as well…it will make more sense for me to go as Countess Corelyn’s lady-in-waiting, since I only have one formal outfit. It should help with my getting around as well, should I need to.”

“Yes, my lady,” Aemilia nodded, then stopped. “Wait, does that mean I will not be accompanying you?”

“That’s right. I need you to rectify my lack of a wardrobe here in the city. By the time we get back, it will almost be time for the big event.”

“What does that mean, my lady?” Terah’s brow furrowed.

“Ah…there will be an official announcement soon,” Ludmila said, “so do not let anyone know before then. An event will be hosted by the Sorcerous Kingdom in a few weeks, in order to return levels of trade back to where they were before. I would like to be prepared to entertain any merchants or dignitaries that may present opportunities for the demesne.”

“Understood, my lady,” Aemilia said. “I will begin preparations to commission suitable garments once I prepare your things and you're on your way.”

Her lady’s maid left to begin sorting out the luggage and the Linum sisters followed shortly after.

“Was there something else, Mrs. Ro’eh?”

Her Housekeeper was silent for a minute, looking down at her hands folded in front of her.

“Can you do this, my lady?” She asked, “Pardon my saying so, but noble houses like Fassett do not evade the justice of their liege by being careless or stupid.”

“I don’t know, Mrs. Ro’eh,” Ludmila said. “But the future holds too much promise to allow their…legacy to ruin everything. I will do everything that I am allowed to prevent this, because I know that the Royal Court will show no mercy if it’s decided that House Fassett represents an unacceptable risk inherent to the entire aristocracy. Repaying grace with spite, as Lady Shalltear once told me – His Majesty’s favour has flowed freely from his hands; I will not allow anyone to spit in them.”

Ludmila rose from her seat, leaving the drawing room to head towards the entrance of the manor. For once, she did not curiously glance into the letter room.

“Where are you going, my lady?” Terah called out after her.

“For a walk,” she replied. “I need to sort out my thoughts – perhaps I’ll visit the gardens. There’s no need to call for anyone, I’ll be taking one of the footmen along as an escort.”

Stepping outside, Ludmila discovered that the sun had already disappeared behind the nearby wall. Motioning to one of the Death Knights, who fell in step behind her, she walked out into the street and took a deep breath of cool air. She could see several other nobles in the surroundings, accompanied by their servants. It seemed that she was still the only one amongst her peers who used the Undead as a part of her Household.

She recognized several familiar faces from earlier in the afternoon: it appeared that the meeting of the House of Lords had recently dispersed, so she decided against heading to the gardens and headed towards the Corelyn Manor instead. Surely enough, as she walked some distance past it and along the route to the Wagner Manor, she came across Clara. Her friend was being attended to by her lady’s maid and two footmen.

Countess Corelyn’s weary-looking expression regained a bit of energy as she registered her friend’s approach.

“Lady Zahradnik,” she put a smile on her face. “Are you feeling better now?”

“Yes, thank you, Lady Corelyn.” Ludmila replied, “That feeling you described earlier hit me a lot harder than I expected it would.”

“I am so sorry,” Clara said, “I said it right before I called over Count Völkchenheim too. I should have known it would run you over like a wagon full of barrels, considering how you are about these sorts of things.”

“I think I will be ready for it from now on,” Ludmila said, “…but we share much in common on that front: what do you usually do about it afterwards?”

“Who knows? Scream at the walls in my office, maybe.”

She couldn’t imagine her gentle friend doing such a thing. Then again, it was an awful feeling.

“I would pay to see that,” Ludmila said.

“You would not be able to afford it,” Clara returned.

They could only keep their straight expressions for a few seconds before bursting out into light laughter. Ludmila joined Clara as she continued walking home. Clara’s servants glanced sidelong at the Death Knight as it joined them, but they continued to follow their mistress over the scrubbed cobblestones.

“What were the results of the meeting?” Ludmila asked.

“There is a fairly long list of things,” Clara answered, “but we had difficulty coming up with something that could really hurt them. Fassett County has mostly depended on the highway, and its legitimate industries are unaffected for the most part. Most of their other incomes come from their…other activities, which they would dare not resume in their territory under the watchful eye of His Majesty’s servants.”

“So you weren’t able to think of anything else that might be compelling?”

“Unfortunately, no.” Clara shook her head, “The list is effectively the rest of us wagging our collective finger at them. An embargo on their exports in our own respective fiefs, refusal to trade with them directly. They will not need us to survive, though – they can conduct business through the city and with the other nations whenever their merchants start to visit in earnest again.”

“What other plans have the House of Lords set into motion, then?”

“Pray to the gods?” Clara let out a hopeless noise, “We incorporated Count Völkchenheim’s olive branch, but everyone knows that it is unlikely to produce a favourable outcome. I have been tasked with delivering this useless missive; Wagner and Gagnier are coming along as well. I would very much love to have you with us – maybe you could scare them into compliance or something.”

“Of course,” Ludmila smiled mirthlessly. “It may be that I can.”

Birthright: Act 4, Chapter 24

Chapter 24

“Hey! Number Six – you’re out of formation!”

Shalltear’s voice was magnified out of an enchanted loudspeaker held in one hand before her. In the skies high above E-Rantel, she was overseeing the exercises she had tasked to multiple groups of Frost Dragons in preparation for their display in the days following the formal announcement of the Baharuth Empire’s submission to their Master. With the coming festivities, it seemed everyone was sent into a flurry of activity.

Albedo had set the Human nobles and the prominent members of the city to work beautifying E-Rantel: refurbishing and decorating the city, along with the highways running through the duchy and the towns and villages they ran through. They had been informed well in advance to begin these preparations, which also provided the chance for them to ready themselves for all of the new opportunities that would surely come to Ainz-sama’s realm. The Guardian Overseer had issued a general directive to create as grand a display as possible to the rest of Nazarick’s servants as well, but it was hardly something that needed to be said.

Aura and Mare were nearly finished laying down the foundations for the new Demihuman quarter of E-Rantel, which would open some time during the proceedings, and many curious and excited subjects of different races from the surrounding lands would be moving into the city. Cocytus had been endlessly drilling and instructing a contingent of Lizardmen, alongside several other native peoples from his territory around the Great Lake who were capable of travelling over land. Pandora’s Actor had taken the ever-increasing levels of energy that followed the announcement just this evening, stoking them to even greater heights with his work as Momon. Now, commoners and aristocrats alike were infected with excitement for the upcoming event.

For her own part, she had taken her new charges – the Frost Dragons subjugated in the Azerlisia range – to the city to put on a show of aerial majesty that would be sure to impress the relatively weak peoples that came to visit. They would later be turned to helping her in establishing an aerial transportation network but, for now, she was confident that they would be one of the highlights: inspiring awe and wonder into all who would visit the capital of the Sorcerous Kingdom.

Once she got them to fly properly, that was.

Below her, even as Number Six moved to correct his flight path, Number Three – the Dragon leading the formation – reacted by edging away cautiously.

“HEY! Where are you going with your entire formation!” She seethed at the Dragons below, who had altered their course entirely due to the movement of their flight leader, “At this rate, we’ll be the laughingstock of the whole event! Maybe you would look more impressive being displayed in the markets as a purse?”

It was an empty threat, but they didn’t need to know that. Compared to the teeming populations of Humans and Demihumans, there were only about a dozen and a half Frost Dragons of varying ages. She could not callously squander the Dragons entrusted to her by Ainz-sama in a fit of pique. Thus, she was reduced to shouting and making threats, which felt decidedly inelegant – annoying her all the more.

According to Peroroncino-sama’s Encyclopedia, this type of Dragon was among the smallest and weakest out of all the species that could be considered true Dragons. They were naturally solitary and independent, so it was a wonder that they had been found living together in such large numbers. They weren’t overly bright either, until they exceeded a certain age. Even then, it varied widely by their individual personalities: intellectual development was generally looked down upon by their kind, leaving most possessed of an extraordinarily cunning, albeit feral mind. They tended to act first, relying on their natural advantages and instinct until experience tempered their behaviour.

Despite their disadvantages, they came with quite a slew of advantages over other Dragons as well. They were agile, maneuverable and could fly long distances at incredible speeds. Despite lacking in what might consider raw intellect, they had something like a perfect episodic memory, unique to their species amongst Dragons. And, like with all Dragons, innate spellcasting ability came with age as well which could aid them in all manner of things. With these qualities in mind, their role as couriers for the Sorcerous Kingdom was an obvious choice: once they were trained and became accustomed to their duties, further worries should be few and far between.

Shalltear continued shadowing them from above them as they turned over a waypoint indicated earlier when laying out their flight path, where they made a slow pass over the southern gate of the city. She had only needed to show them once and none had ever forgotten it, so what was said about their memory certainly seemed to be the case. Not that she would ever doubt her esteemed Creator’s gift of knowledge. As long as nothing interfered with their course and they weren’t being sloppy, they would never make a mistake along it, no matter how complicated it became or how much time had passed.

The sun dipped below the horizon as the exercise continued and, as she swooped down to poke a Dragon back onto the proper course, a disembodied voice reached out to her.

『Shalltear-sama.』

It if was by voice alone, she might have recognized it as something vaguely annoying from recent times, but the Message spell expressed the sender’s identity in more concise terms. It was Nonna: the ‘administrative attaché’ that Albedo had pushed onto her Human vassal. The name the Elder Lich was given had sent Pandora’s Actor into a panic when he realized what he had heard was what was actually being said, until he finally concluded that it did not have any current association to Players from Yggdrasil.

When Shalltear had asked her one day about it, the baroness explained that it was a trick of language: if one knew multiple languages, they could convey multiple meanings through a single expression via the systems of the world. At least one of the meanings stemmed from a language of the Supreme Beings, which the Area Guardian of the Treasury had fretted over until he had decided that it was simply a vestige of Players long past. It was a number embedded in the language of the Slane Theocracy, which they had long suspected to have ancient ties with beings from their former existence.

After correcting the flightpath of the Frost Dragon formation, she regained altitude and turned her attention to the Message while continuing to monitor the Dragons below.

“Yes, what is it–arinsuka!”

She did not actually need to yell over the sound of the wind – or speak out loud at all, for that matter – but it was a hard thing to rein in for some reason. If the Elder Lich thought anything of it, she did not make it known through her reply.

『Baroness Zahradnik has requested an audience.』

“Did she say what it was about?”

『No. Only that she would like to see you at your earliest convenience.』

“Alright, I got it.”

The spell ended, leaving Shalltear to ponder her vassal’s request as she soared through the night sky. Had her vassal actually ever asked for anything? Unlike the Frost Dragons she had recently been granted responsibility over, the young Human Noble she had taken under her wing did not require much effort on Shalltear’s part at all.

Baroness Zahradnik knew enough about her own duties and was talented enough to deftly adapt the Sorcerous Kingdom’s new ways to the advantage of her own demesne. Her insights and the data she provided were used to fine tune some of the initial workings of the administration. It was a shame that nearly all of the credit went to Albedo through her forcefully placed agent, but it was more to the relief of all of Nazarick’s denizens working in the region that things were now moving in the direction that Ainz-sama desired.

She was complementary, yet forthright in their interactions: she did not snivel or grovel like some, or seek to deceive and put on airs like others. She accepted her orders without voicing complaint, and she kept her head down as she worked to produce results. With the mechanisms of the Sorcerous Kingdom beginning to work properly, Shalltear saw that the quality of its citizens varied widely, and she could have ended up with far worse.

If only she could sink her teeth into Baroness Zahradnik’s friends as well. Unfortunately, the sheer productivity they represented between them was something Albedo immediately recognized, so she had jealously retained them as part of the duchy’s immediate jurisdiction. Encouraged by past successes, the Guardian Overseer had also appointed the most experienced of the ducal nobility – Countess Jezne – as an Advisor to the Royal Court, but the decision had yet to bear substantial fruit beyond streamlining communication between the Royal Court and the House of Lords.

As their flight path crossed over the central district of E-Rantel, Shalltear folded her wings and dove towards the city below. The fact that she could do so worried her as a Floor Guardian: the enchantments that restricted teleportation in the Central District amounted to a layer of protections at street level. Filling the entire sky above the city to prevent teleportation would cost far more mana than all of Nazarick’s combined forces could keep up with, so it had become a constant thorn in their defensive preparations.

Even Demiurge was unable to come up with an answer, to his great chagrin. All an enemy Player would need to do was teleport high above the city, devastate it with Super-Tier magic, and all of their work here for the past few months would be for naught. Certainly, it was not Nazarick, but the thought of failing to defend Ainz-sama’s dominion was still unacceptable.

Nearing the rooftops, she slowed her descent and alighted on the manor she had provided to the baroness.

“Leave us,” she said. “Do not come back until I have departed.”

The Hanzo guarding the roof shimmered into view, bowing deeply before it leapt away towards a different building. She looked around for a moment before, satisfied no one was trying to observe her, she dropped down into the courtyard below. Her plated boots made a light clink as she landed on the stones of the patio, and a head peeked out from one of the rooms in the hallway in response to the sound.

Baroness Ludmila Zahradnik came out into the hallway and quickly made her way towards the courtyard. She was not in the green dress that she often wore around the city, instead wearing a more casual outfit that Shalltear had seen her in as she ran around her demesne overseeing its development. The young noblewoman had changed slightly, growing in the strange way that these Humans did. Her dark chestnut hair was a little bit longer, and the features of her face had become a little bit more refined. It seemed that she had grown slightly taller as well: she was the same height as Yuri Alpha now.

“I hope the evening finds you well, Lady Shalltear,” her head dipped low in front of her as she curtseyed in greeting. “Thank you for taking the time to answer my request.”

“I take it you wanted to speak to me in private about something?” Shalltear said, “Something you did not want the Prime Minister to know about.”

“Yes, my lady,” the baroness nodded. “I have instructed my household to not interrupt our discussion. Please, this way.”

Shalltear followed her up the stairs and into her solar. With the baroness’ Talent providing her with the awareness of her liege’s nature, it was a bit of a curiosity how remarkable her vassal’s mental fortitude was. Knowing what she was, the last thing most people would want to do was invite Shalltear into their bedchamber. At first, Shalltear wondered how she would deal with a Human with Truesight: surely they would spend all of their time screaming and crying and soiling themselves when presented with her appearance. While admittedly amusing at first, she decided it would quickly become tiresome. The baroness, however, barely reacted with any aversion at all, and it had taken just a day before all traces of it had vanished.

She waited as the baroness checked each window to ensure that they were closed and the drapes drawn tightly. Actually…

“「Silence」” She layered the room in an enchantment which would block all sound from passing.

“「Darkness」” She directed a thin film of pure darkness to line the walls.

“「All Appraisal Magic Item」” The last thing she needed to do was ensure there were no magic items in the room that were capable of monitoring them in some way or assisting in scrying attempts that would normally be defeated with the countermeasures over the central district.

Shalltear peered around the room and her eyes widened slightly when she realized that, aside from several of the perfume vials that they had purchased over a month ago, the baroness did not have even a single magic item in her possession. Maybe she had been neglecting her vassal too much.

Though he ruled over them sternly, Cocytus was nurturing and open-handed with his own vassals. Albedo shrewdly brokered magical items out as favours to her various agents. Nigredo, Pestonya and Yuri Alpha, who were setting about making the finishing touches on their orphanage, were sparing no expense for the children that would live there. Needless to say, the disparity in treatment between her far more productive vassal and the beneficiaries of the others made her feel miserly in comparison.

It would not do to have matters remain as they were, but the problem was that the others had been allocated resources to assist in their efforts. Only Shalltear’s assignment with the Frost Dragons had been budgeted, and siphoning away resources meant for this duty was not an acceptable option. She filed the issue away in her mind as the baroness returned to stand before her, folding her hands in front of her lap before she spoke.

“My lady, there is something I would like to have your consultation with,” she faced her directly as she began. “You are one of the few I can confide in – and the only one who I believe can help.”

Confide? In her? Shalltear thought it decidedly odd. Most of the confiding done by the Humans of the duchy was directed towards Pandora’s Actor, consisting of any number of ridiculous things. Seeing that the baroness had that same look of wanting to ask for something while being unsure of whether to actually ask, Shalltear unequipped her Pipette Lance…just in case.

“Let’s hear it, then.”

At her prompting, the young noblewoman spoke.

“Yes, my lady,” she said. “I was wondering if there was any way you could have me assigned to the Judiciary. There is som–”

Shalltear reached out, and the baroness’ voice turned into a surprised cry as Shalltear snatched the noblewoman by the arm and sent her flying into the nearby wall. A thud accompanied her impact – or at least there would have been, if the structure had not been coated in silence – and the baroness rolled once after bouncing off of the wall and hitting the ground, lying stunned on the floor.

Birthright: Act 4, Chapter 25

Chapter 25

“We have gone over this once already,” Shalltear said evenly. “That you had better provide an acceptable explanation for the arrangements that you request, if you do not wish to be thrown to your death – the latter part of that was yours, I believe. Now…why would you wish to be transferred to a department managed by the Guardian Overseer?”

As she waited for the Baroness to recover and come up with her answer, Shalltear activated Life Essence. The force at which she had thrown her would probably amount to half of an average Noble’s health – certainly not enough to kill even the weakest Humans – and since the wall had done the damage, her Cursed Knight abilities shouldn’t prevent recovery…but she double checked just to be sure.

She narrowed her eyes, as what she saw did not match her expectations. Instead of the aura surrounding the noblewoman indicating a substantial amount of missing health, it appeared as though the damage she had sustained was perhaps only ten percent of the whole. Was it due to her training with the Adventurer Guild? Or was she never like the rest of the flimsy nobles in the first place? She should have barely started with the former. Mare did mention that she was part of the first group that was most likely ready to be promoted from the lowest ranks of the Adventurer Guild, so it should be the latter.

Additionally, Shalltear recalled that the baroness’ abilities were more in line with that of a Commander class, though they were clearly related to her function as a member of the Human nobility. It reminded her of the Quagoa leader she had encountered recently during their journey to the north, Pe Riyuro, who was effectively a ‘noble’ of his own race but displayed the qualities of both a Commander and a Monk. The idea that the beings of this new world might have classes that functioned with high efficacy in multiple roles was difficult for her to wrap her head around, and felt rather unfair despite their apparent weakness.

Baroness Zahradnik pushed herself up from the floor. She was decidedly not the utterly flimsy thing that Shalltear had first encountered before the chambers of the Royal Court. She did not look down on the Supreme Beings’ decisions in the creation of her floors, but the vast majority of the denizens on her floors were weak pop mobs. With most of Nazarick’s defences set to save on maintenance costs, the resources available to her were even more scarce. That she could perhaps cultivate additional, useful vassals and expand her own contributions to her Master’s cause was a tantalizing notion…

…or perhaps these strange peoples were a future danger to Nazarick. So far, they had encountered a handful of what barely qualified as mid-level individuals in their short time here, so surely higher levels must exist somewhere as well. So far, most of these mid-level beings had been discovered by Demiurge in his assignment beyond the borders of the Sorcerous Kingdom. He speculated that they regularly possessed strange job and racial classes that did not exist in Yggdrasil, and thus were to be studied carefully while things were still well under control. The Guardian of the Seventh Floor was currently in the process of weighing and measuring the pros and cons of retaining them, so it seemed prudent for the other Guardians tasked with oversight in various parts of Ainz-sama’s dominion to follow suit.

Baroness Zahradnik returned to stand before her again, straightening her skirts as she appeared to reflect on what to say. Her steadfast disposition remained – unlike most other Humans Shalltear had observed, it was not simply a mask that she wore on her face to hide her true feelings: nearly everything about her exuded it.

“My lady,” the baroness said after some time, “an issue has recently come to my attention, stemming from one of the territories in the west. The House of Lords desires to be proactive and show to the Royal Court that they respect the spirit of His Majesty’s laws, but those same laws prevent us from directly acting against those not under our authority. They have taken measures to express their collective disapproval to the offending house but, at the same time, they know that it is most likely a fruitless gesture.”

“I understand what you are saying so far,” Shalltear replied, “but I fail to see why this is a problem. Once it is reported to the Royal Court, it will be but a straightforward investigation for the servants in the Judiciary.”

“Yes, my lady,” the Baroness replied, “it is something that I would have done without question.”

“Would have?” Shalltear arched an eyebrow, “I am perhaps the last person that should say this-arinsuga, but subtlety is not your strong point. I find you more agreeable when you are being straightforward – why must you step around lightly when it comes to this particular problem-arinsuka? Why does the House of Lords need to as well, for that matter?”

“There is an impression that several members of the Royal Court are dissatisfied with portions of the law that His Majesty has adopted from Re-Estize, my lady,” the Baroness answered. “The nobility fears that the actions of one will reflect poorly on the others – that it will be used as justification for the law to be amended or changed entirely. That their birthright: the generations of development and tradition that went into raising their houses and fiefs could be taken away from them through no fault of their own.”

This much was true, at least. Both Demiurge and Albedo had expressed discontent with the laws adopted from Re-Estize. It did not sit well with them that Ainz-sama’s power could be legally kept in check by the Royal Court and the letter of the law itself, and that same law protected nobles from direct actions without proper justification. In truth, they wanted to get rid of nearly all of it, but had only discussed several points in order to see how the Humans would react. A few of the NPCs, herself included, had concluded that Ainz-sama’s insistence on just cause for their actions was to prepare them for their eventual management of these peoples, but many others did not – no, could not see it that way.

Aside from the one Human Advisor, the Royal Court currently consisted of Nazarick’s denizens, so this was generally tolerable for the time being. The administration would, however, by necessity grow as the Sorcerous Kingdom’s influence inevitably expanded and the law included both those that would enter the Royal Court and the House of Lords as participants in the creation of new legislation and the amendment of old laws.

The collapse of Re-Estize was currently being engineered by Albedo and a few collaborators. If the Kingdom was absorbed, it would result in several thousand noble houses entering the administrative system, all subject to those same laws. The Guardian Overseer was one who was accustomed to having singular authority over Nazarick’s denizens on the behalf of the Supreme Beings, so sharing any sort of power with what she considered livestock and vermin would be an affront to her sensibilities.

The primary stipulation that accompanied the terms between the Sorcerous Kingdom and the Baharuth Empire was one of the results of this dissatisfaction with Human laws: the creation of a new Imperial Law to recognize the absolute nature of the Sorcerer King and the Sorcerous Kingdom’s representatives. Considering how readily the Empire had accepted, the Royal Court now considered the benefits of having Re-Estize subjected to the same terms. It would reduce direct administrative burdens, and compartmentalize all future problems into bite sized pieces that could be dealt with on a state by state basis. It also made it so that any new states would have to operate within the framework of their own laws, and benefit from none of the Sorcerous Kingdom’s as E-Rantel’s nobility had.

What the Baroness said about the nobility having limited avenues to pursue was true as well. Just as Ainz-sama had forbidden the denizens of Nazarick from fighting one another, so too could these Human vassals not go to war between themselves for any reason. Albedo probably understood this; waiting for an opportunity to pounce on something major enough to warrant the changes that she desired. Baroness Zahradnik also thought it was important enough to risk saying what she had.

“So your solution is to work under Albedo as a part of the Judiciary,” Shalltear said. “To hold the authority to intercede before these fears have the chance to become reality.”

“Yes, my lady,” the Baroness replied. “It seemed the most direct way for me to attack the problem.”

“So you would leave me to enter under Albedo’s service-arinsuka,” Shalltear said with a frown, reflecting on her thoughts from before. “Have I really been so terrible to you?”

“What…? No!” Baroness Zahradnik fell to her knees, lowering her head, “I have nothing but gratitude for your favour, my lady, and I would like nothing more than to remain in your service. I was thinking more along the lines of an official appointment…or something. I am unfamiliar with how the Judiciary is organized now.”

“Oh. Well then,” Shalltear let out a sigh as her irritation dissipated, “in that case, you need not even go so far. I have all the authority required to carry out what you appear to be asking for.”

In a rare moment of visible confusion, the Baroness looked up.

“You…you do?”

“I do,” she answered. “But first, you should tell me everything about this problem that vexes you so.”

Turning the seat in front of the baroness’ dresser mirror, Shalltear sat down and reached into her inventory, drawing out a fresh memo pad. She had been using them recently and already had two others: the first was filled with notes related to her beloved Master. The second was to help sort out her thoughts surrounding the organization of the Frost Dragons. The one she held with its green cover she decided to use for her Human vassal, as she was prone to burying Shalltear in lengthy explanations whenever a topic that struck her fancy arose. As the Baroness spoke at length, however, she did not write anything into its pages and felt a bit of disappointment at how trivial the problem seemed.

“This…is stupid?” She finally said after over an hour of back and forth to ensure she understood the details completely, “It is certainly not anything that I would need to worry about acting against. You are most likely correct that your dilemma will work in favour of Albedo and Demiurge’s case to amend the laws-arinsu: an example of how you nobles cannot even be trusted for your own good-arinsu.”

Baroness Zahradnik’s expression wilted. Shalltear frowned in thought, struggling with the uncomfortable idea that it was somewhat similar to how the other NPCs must have felt when she herself had failed Ainz-sama so catastrophically. Except Ainz-sama was a kind and merciful Master – Albedo would ruthlessly exploit the state of affairs to her fullest advantage while looking down on everyone with a sense of smug superiority. The Humans would be unable to do anything about it no matter how far things spiraled out of control, short of acting illegally. Doing so would also work to Albedo’s advantage: they were trapped either way.

But would this be according to the will of Ainz-sama? Shalltear felt that it was not the case. Both she and Pandora’s Actor had come to tentatively grasp perhaps a few of the reasons their Master had chosen to do things the way that he did, and this turn of events would reverse the progress that had been made. Certainly, they could continue to function with the changes enacted so far – assuming things didn’t collapse entirely – but that did not matter: if their Master was disappointed in the results, then there was no worth in anything they accomplished.

“Tell me,” Shalltear said, “do you believe that this sort of thing can happen in the future? In the Empire? In Re-Estize, should they enter under the Sorcerous Kingdom’s dominion? In the far off lands of other peoples?”

The young noblewoman spoke with her gaze downcast, ears turning red.

“It will,” the baroness said. “When we first met, I would have thought this impossible; in hindsight, I am embarrassed over how confidently I spoke of so much without knowing what the world beyond my demesne was truly like. Now, I feel that all of my friends; all of the other nobles; even my servants, are more aware of these things than I. To be given the chance to learn everything I have as your vassal is a blessing that I am undeserving of, and a debt which I must repay.”

Shalltear tapped her cheek thoughtfully. With the expansion of her duties, she would actually be the one whose responsibilities ranged the furthest in the Sorcerous Kingdom’s sphere of influence. Actually, as the person responsible for logistics, it was already the case even before the Frost Dragons were placed under her. The task of creating an aerial transportation network, however, would have Shalltear and those under her interacting with the world at a far greater frequency than before. If the troubles described happened elsewhere, Shalltear would need to come up with measures to effectively root them out and deal with them. She could not turn a blind eye and plead ignorance after the fact, nor would she even consider doing so as a denizen of Nazarick.

This, too, was something she had asked the baroness’ thoughts on, late in the day when Shalltear had accompanied her around the city to learn what she could. Because they appeared to share many things in common, she was curious what the Human would make of it, but her reply at the time had been made in the same, mechanical fashion as much of her other thoughts on various subjects that day. It left Shalltear uncertain about how far she could go with her. Was the baroness hiding behind her Human ways: stepping around carefully and making excuses for the behaviour of her fellows, or was she truly unaware of the facts? Was she simply a useful pawn to be kept in the dark, or could she rise above the veil of ignorance to become something more? Though it had been over a month since her asking, Shalltear now had her answer.

“If that is the case,” Shalltear said, “preparations must be made for these eventualities. If you truly wish to act under my authority – above the traditions and laws of those who fall under His Majesty’s dominion – there are many things that you will need to learn. You should already have some sense of this through our time together, but I will once again make it clear who it is that you wish to serve.”

Shalltear rose from her chair, coming to stand before Baroness Zahradnik. The young noblewoman had remained seated on the floor throughout their discussion, looking up at her.

“I am Shalltear Bloodfallen, Guardian of the Sorcerous Kingdom, Defender of His Majesty’s realm. Be it as His Lance or His Lady, I am the instrument which carries out His Supreme Will. There is no task too onerous; no distance too far; no duty too great or small. I live and die for my Master, and it is both my pride and my pleasure to serve.

“The order which I follow supersedes all others, for it is the Will of Ainz Ooal Gown. All laws, customs and traditions are beneath this order: secondary to the Supreme One’s Will. To serve as my vassal, this order must also become your own as well. I do not expect you to understand everything immediately, but as you learn, you will also come to know how your Human ways are not our ways. This may put you at odds with yourself and your peers in the future – but it may also help your kind as well.

“Knowing this, do you still wish to become my vassal in truth?”

The baroness shifted in her posture, rising to one knee.

“I am at your service, my lady.”

Shalltear reached down to cradle the young noblewoman’s cheek, tilting her gaze upwards to meet her own.

“Then as His Majesty has with me, so shall I with you,” her voice was solemn. “As a reward for your fealty and efforts in restoring the realm, I offer you…duty. It is an extension of my own: to be a Defender of His Majesty’s Realm, the first lance to be directed against those who would oppose His Will, both within and without. To be a faithful supporter of His Majesty’s precepts and the future which He envisions for the Sorcerous Kingdom. It is your choice to accept this, Ludmila Zahradnik.”

Though the baroness visibly struggled to control her emotions, her response was immediate. There was no hesitation, but her voice carried with it a heaviness that spoke of the weight in the young noblewoman’s heart.

“This duty – it would be my honour to receive this duty, my lady.”

She peered at the baroness, looking into the eyes that reflected her own crimson gaze in the darkness. Behind the tears which gathered was something that Shalltear had never seen before in the young noblewoman: a flame that burned with desire…no – need. Memories of the short time together with her charge brought with them the understanding of why she displayed the raw passion which was entirely uncharacteristic of her usually reserved self.

Much like the denizens of Nazarick, duty defined her purpose; without purpose, existence was meaningless. It was disturbing how her circumstances vaguely mirrored Shalltear’s own – but she had never failed as Shalltear had; never brought shame to herself and her peers. Her duty had simply been denied her, before she could even act to fulfil it. Yet she continued to serve: even as she clung desperately to the echoes of her former identity as a steadfast defender of a nation that barely spared her existence a thought.

As a Guardian, this was unacceptable. As her new liege, it was Shalltear’s place to rectify this matter.

“Very well,” Shalltear said.

Leaning forward, she pressed her lips against the crown of Ludmila’s head.

“Then this shall be the first of the Oaths between us,” Shalltear whispered softly into her hair, “my baroness.”

Birthright: Act 5, Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Upon the highway leading west from the city of E-Rantel, three carriages sped through the forests and fields of Jezne County. Alongside them rode twelve mounted footmen: two to the side of each carriage, four leading the front and two bringing up the rear. The footmen were divided into three sets of livery for the three houses that they represented. In the middle carriage together rode the heads of those houses – plus one other.

To a traveller on the wayside, their swift passage over the rough pavement would fill the air with a great clamour, but not a trace of this sound could be heard within. These were the most luxurious coaches in House Wagner's fleet of vehicles: masterfully engineered and magically enchanted to provide a comfortable journey that might only be surpassed by the state coaches of great nations.

Slowly turning a delicate-looking white mask in her hands, Ludmila absently gazed out of the window at the scenery of carefully-managed forests lining the highway.

“It’s a rare thing to see you spaced out like that,” Clara’s voice came from beside her. “Did your audience with Lady Shalltear really give you that much to think about?”

Ludmila had not mentioned anything about the previous night’s meeting with her liege, beyond the fact that she had spoken with her at length. Still dazed over what had come to pass, she herself could still scarcely believe that the dream-like event had occurred.

“Lady Shalltear ratified my oath of fealty,” she replied. “A part of it, at least.”

“That’s wonderful news, then!” Clara pressed her palms together with a pleased expression for her friend, “You’ve been agonizing over it for weeks, haven’t you?”

Ludmila nodded slightly. It was something that had been quietly eating away at her, as more and more of the nobility had done so and resumed their regular lives. A noble’s contract with their liege was the basis of aristocratic society, and not having one was akin to being left alone and vulnerable to the myriad dangers of the world, cast adrift with no purpose or direction. Ludmila could not even figure out how she would compose her own: she was a Frontier Noble whose traditional duties were rendered unnecessary by the powerful Undead armies of the Sorcerous Kingdom. Her underdeveloped fief was overshadowed hundreds of times over by the wealth and influence of even the poorest of the inner territories, so she could offer little on that front as well.

The audience that she had requested in order to consult with her liege over the dilemma in Fassett County and had, instead, ended up in her formally swearing herself to Lady Shalltear’s service. It was a sudden turn of events that may as well have been spun from a minstrel’s tale. Well, she guessed that no minstrel would ever actually use something like this. It was not on a battlefield after some legendary feat of martial prowess, nor in a grand ceremony witnessed by a vast court, but on the floor of the solar of her borrowed city manor in the middle of the night.

Ludmila had pledged to follow after Lady Shalltear in her duty: to be a defender of the realm, and uphold His Majesty’s desired order. A solemn oath, sealed by her lady’s kiss. The act itself was something she recognized as being very out of character for her organized and formal self – it wasn’t even on paper – but it felt so right that she could not even think to cross-examine it. It was something that she would not forget for the rest of her life: a private and personal moment that had been etched into her being.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Clara lean towards her with a furrow on her brow. Clara exchanged glances with Liane and Florine seated across from them. They shrugged and shook their heads in return.

“If that’s what is supposed to happen,” Countess Corelyn said, “I think I want a redo of my contract. All I received was a stamped document from the Royal Court, delivered to my letterbox. Ludmila looks positively lovestruck.”

The light laughter that followed pulled Ludmila out of her daze, and she turned her head towards the others. Seeing her friend was back again, Clara spoke.

“So…what is it that has your head in the clouds, exactly? Even if I was offered tax immunity I don’t think I’d have that look on my face. Well, maybe.”

“Duty,” Ludmila answered.

“Duty?” Clara made a face at the decidedly unexciting answer, “What sort of duty?”

“It is…difficult to explain,” Ludmila said. “I’m not wholly certain as to the extent of it, but I think I can do something about House Fassett.”

“Eh? Really?” Florine said, “But Lady Shalltear is the Minister of Transportation, isn’t she?”

“She is,” Liane nodded. “This isn’t something the Minister of Transportation should have jurisdiction over, should she?”

“It shouldn’t be.” Clara agreed, “Unless what is happening in Fassett County is interfering with the roads…”

“Lady Shalltear is not just the Minister of Transportation.”

The three other women leaned away from her ardour. Ludmila cleared her throat, and adjusted her tone.

“She also continues to uphold her duties from before E-Rantel’s annexation,” she told them. “She is a Defender of the Realm, an enemy of all who would oppose His Majesty’s order. The first part of my oath of fealty was to assist her and carry out this same duty, to the furthest extent of my ability.”

“Then you’ve essentially resumed your duties as a Frontier Noble?” Clara ventured, “The terms sound fairly similar.”

“On a very basic level, there are similarities,” Ludmila answered. “But there is so much more now. It will take me some time to learn and understand its intricacies.”

Or rather, she wasn’t sure if there were any intricacies. It was authority in the absolute sense: raw, unyielding power. Opposition to His Majesty’s will was unacceptable; defiance, an unforgivable sin. She was now the agent of an order above any and all laws, traditions or practices that would impede her in the pursuit of her quarry. It didn’t mean that she could flagrantly ignore the laws of the Sorcerous Kingdom, and there were other aspects of His Majesty’s will to be observed, but it did have the effect of cutting through red tape, political posturing and legal pretense.

Ludmila had always welcomed duty; embraced it…but now, for the first time, duty sent a chill through her being. The members of the King’s Cabinet all held this authority – Lady Aura and Lord Mare included, and any servant of His Majesty could be called upon for aid. She wondered how one conducted themselves in regards to this duty: there were certainly no known incidents that she could construe were a result of its exercise, so there must be more that she was missing. Perhaps, rather than a brute force, it was something better wielded with quiet precision.

A shadow appeared over the window, turning their attention to one of Clara’s footmen who had maneuvered his horse alongside them. Ludmila opened the crystal pane, and the roar of the sounds outdoors filled the cabin.

“Lady Corelyn,” the footman said over the din, “the maids would like to stop and deliver lunch.”

“That sounds good,” Clara replied, leaning over Ludmila to speak to him, “I’m starting to feel peckish. We’ll stop to have lunch delivered, but we won’t be stopping while we dine. You may keep the pace down until everyone has settled their meals.”

“It will be done, my lady.”

The young man guided his horse away and Ludmila closed the window. All of the footmen escorting them seemed to be well-trained and experienced members of their respective households. Beyond their domestic training, they appeared to be proficient in horsemanship and the weapons that they carried as well.

After the entourage rolled to a stop on the side of the road, Ludmila left the carriage to stretch her tired body. Her mind was still restless from the previous night, but she was beginning to physically tire from not having slept at all. Attempting to distract her attention away from her fatigue, she turned to a nearby footman.

“How far have we come?” She asked.

“We’re just leaving Jezne County, Lady Camilla,” he responded cordially. “Once we’re through the next town, we’ll be past most of the traffic delivering goods to and from E-Rantel. We should be able to pick up speed then.”

Unlike the cultivated fields and pastures of the northeast and the fertile valleys to the south of the city, a large portion of the western half of the duchy was dominated by forested limestone hills which occupied the gap between the the Azerlisia Mountains to the north and the border ranges to the south. The highway followed a lightly winding path which passed the occasional patches of farmland nestled between tall stands of trees. Far to the west, she thought she could see the buildings of the town that the footman mentioned peeking out from behind the rolling landscape.

Several maids carrying trays of food walked past her while another footman was setting up a solid oak table across the middle of the coach. When it appeared that preparations were completed, she stepped back up into the carriage, joined by the other noblewomen. The procession carried on, albeit much more slowly, as the drivers and escorts took turns having their meal.

Inside their carriage, Ludmila was presented with a warm, sumptuous feast. Lady Wagner had spared no expense on her part, providing the best experience she could offer. Magical items that kept their food fresh and heated and enchanted decanters of ice cold wine accompanied their meal. Various other conveniences all combined to make the journey seem more like a relaxing afternoon in a garden rather than a hard drive across the countryside. Even the horses were afforded magical items: enchanted harnesses and bridles which allowed them to run in comfort, their blistering pace sustained by magical horseshoes created in some Demihuman nation far to the east.

Amongst all of the other luxurious offerings, there was something else that caught the nobles’ attention.

“I can’t believe you brought that thing with you, Liane,” Florine said as they set into their meal.

“Why not? It’s a memento of my lord father,” Liane replied, “and a bit of inspiration, no?”

The subject of their exchange was a delicately crafted piece of glasswork which had been fashioned into the shape of a wine glass. It shimmered and gleamed in the light of the sun streaming through the carriage window, and its enchanting appearance inextricably drew the eye of any observer. Ludmila immediately realized that it was enchanted, and beneath the minor illusion was a rather plain looking item.

“What is it?” Ludmila asked.

“Oh, I guess you weren’t there for that, being out on the border and all,” Liane said, reaching out to lift the item. “It was a rather amusing topic for a few weeks after it happened.”

“You mean that’s…” Clara’s voice trailed off as Liane grew excited at her recognition.

“Yes, this is it!” Liane held up the glass to Ludmila, “How much do you think this is worth?”

“Liane!” Clara said, “I don’t think that’s a fair question…”

“Including the cost of the enchantment?” Ludmila tried to stall for time to think, having no idea how much it was worth.

“Cheh,” Liane pulled back, disappointed. “So even Frontier Nobles can tell.”

“What is the story behind it?” Ludmila was curious, and she put a slice of steak in her mouth as she listened to the younger noblewoman.

“Hmm…yes, I guess that’s the more important part of this,” Liane brightened again. “Back some months ago, a merchant came by our manor, offering to sell this to our house. So my lord father instructed the butler to let him in and listened to his entire offer. I forgot exactly what it was…something about some master artisan, and he was willing to part with it for a mere fifteen gold trade coins. Anyways…what did you think happened?”

Ludmila’s chewing slowed. She still had no idea what the piece of glasswork was worth, so she simply shook her head to prompt Lady Wagner to continue her story.

“He paid him!” Liane grinned wickedly, “And then he had four of the footmen run him through the streets with whips – all the way from the central district to the crossroads south of E-Rantel. That fool thought he could deceive a noble with such a cheap article.”

Liane took a sip out of her glass before resuming her tale.

“That isn’t the end of the story, though,” Liane leaned forward with a gleam in her ice-blue eyes, lowering her voice. “We tracked down the man’s wagon and found a crate full of identical items; the most astonishing thing was that there were a few missing. These are worth two silver, thirteen copper – including the cost of the enchantment. We could only assume that someone out there fell for the man’s ridiculous ploy. After uncovering this, father declared that this piece was well worth the asking price, simply for the lesson that it holds: that there are some heedless fools out there that think they can actually cheat us, and that there actually exist idiots out there that can fall for such schemes.”

Ludmila looked around the table. Clara and Florine had amused expressions after Liane’s finished her tale. Ludmila could only hope that she would never fall for any similar ruse.

They completed lunch, and the plates and glasses were replaced by documents, reference manuals and paperwork. Despite serving as emissaries of the House of Lords, each of them had varying amounts of work to complete before the formal announcement concerning the Empire. Liane, especially, seemed to be particularly swamped, expanding House Wagner’s merchant companies and setting up new ones – her own work was invading Florine’s part of the table. Luckily, Florine had relatively little to do, coming from a quiet agricultural fief mostly away from the main highways with no specific preparations that needed to be made.

“So about your new duties, Ludmila,” Clara asked without looking up from her work. “What do you think you’ll be able to do?”

“It would depend on the extent of House Fassett’s activities,” she answered. “Hopefully they will resolve matters surrounding their succession and commit to stepping down from their illicit behaviour.”

“The chance of that happening is slim to none,” Clara said. “You were there when we discussed that, I believe. Each side of the dispute is using the resources from those illicit activities in order to fund the support for their claims. Count Völkchenheim’s olive branch might seem an attractive proposal at a glance but, in the end, it does not break the succession crisis since they should be smart enough to either both refuse or both accept. I am loath to offer Völkchenheim’s proposal in the first place since it potentially implicates the entire House of Lords if twisted the wrong way.”

“Do you really think the final outcome will be that bad though?” Ludmila asked.

Even roughly understanding what she now had the authority to do, Ludmila decided that some things should only be done as a last resort. The more she thought it through, though, the more it seemed that the last resort was the only option.

That option was to remove both parties before they drew the scrutiny of the Royal Court – that was, unseating House Fassett and the other ringleaders in the dispute. Lady Shalltear asserted that those who supported changing the laws might be unhappy that their excuse was denied them, but the restoration of order with a clear message would be accepted as a just outcome and they would not waste resources pursuing an otherwise trifling matter.

“We don’t know,” Clara said after looking to the others. “Like you, most of our dealings with the Royal Court have been generally positive, so we haven’t ever witnessed what they are capable of doing if something displeases them. Personally I don’t want to find out, so if there is anything we can do to help you, that may be the most reliable course to avoid an undesirable outcome.”

“We don’t have our own masks though,” Florine said.

“Why a mask, anyways?” Liane asked.

“And why Camilla?” Clara added, “For the life of me I still cannot figure that one out.”

One of the first things Ludmila had done was spell out the name in various written languages. As with Nonna, it was Theocracy script that turned up a meaning. A name as ancient as the Theocracy itself: meaning ‘Acolyte’, or perhaps ‘Disciple’. Clara should have picked up on its meaning, but she probably associated it with the priesthood. Given that Ludmila was essentially under the mentorship of Lady Shalltear in the ways of the Sorcerer King’s vassals, she found it gratifying that her liege would treat her with such regard.

As for the mask, Ludmila had no idea. She had received the mask and the name from Lady Shalltear, who insisted that she should use both. She picked up the smooth, bone-white adornment from the table and held it in front of her face.

“Well,” she said from behind the item, “how does it look?”

“Suspicious,” Clara said without hesitation.

“Weird,” said Florine.

“Creepy,” said Liane.

Ludmila sighed.

Birthright: Act 5, Chapter 2

Chapter 2

A sharp crack echoed down the alley – the sound of a supple cane slamming against some solid surface. A handful of heads turned towards the harsh noise; others stole glances, but none stopped or came forward to see what was going on. The pedestrians went about their business and even the sentries in the nearby square seemed to pay no mind.

“I have eyes, brat!” The blind beggar snapped, “Tell me something I didn’t see, or don’t be wasting my time.”

Liam looked to where he had been standing just a moment before and swallowed: the cane had struck a row of old wooden planks, and some now lay fallen and splintered in the muck. If he had not reacted quickly enough to leap away, it would have been his legs instead.

“There were nobles, sir,” Liam said.

“Nobles?” The beggar leaned forward, “How many?”

“There were four in a coach – three coaches.”

He paused as the beggar’s mouth fell open into a confused expression as he cocked his head.

“Twelve Nobles, sir,” Liam added hurriedly. “With big men on horses guarding them.”

“I can count, you little shit!” The man hissed, his putrid breath washing over the boy’s face, “Nobles don’t grow on trees! How can there’ve been twelve at once?”

Liam backed away, eyeing the once-again brandished cane warily even as his mind worked to turn out something of value.

“I-It was twelve ladies,” the boy said tentatively, “dressed all clean and fine. The men were in colours too: armed with steel. That means they were guarding noble ladies, right?”

“You followed them?” The beggar asked.

Of course he followed them: how else could he have counted who was inside such high carriages? The retort would have the cane flying towards him again, however, so he just followed the beggar’s line of questioning.

“They turned on the lord’s road, sir,” he nodded. “I followed and watched from near the manor.”

“Then you saw them come out,” the beggar’s eyes narrowed. “What did they all look like?”

“All young and pretty, sir,” the boy replied. “There were Elf women too!”

That detail was rare enough to be important, but the beggar only scowled in return.

“There’s no such thing as Elf nobles, you nit! How were they dressed? Was there anyone made better than the others?”

Liam squeezed his eyes shut, trying to force out the details from his memory.

“Three, sir,” his eyes popped open again. “Three ladies in better dresses than the rest, all from the carriage in the middle. They didn’t look too good when they came out, sir. The…servant? The other one that came out with them ran to a hedge and got sick.”

The beggar frowned. Perhaps that detail wasn’t so important.

“Was there anything on the side of the carriage?” The beggar asked, “Any pictures on the coloured men?”

“There was…a silver wheel on brown, on the side of the carriage,” Liam answered. “A silver cup on blue, too.”

The man’s expression twisted sourly.

“Easterners,” he spat. “What was the last one?”

“There was only two on my side, sir,” Liam told him. “The other side was facing the manor.”

“…useless.”

The beggar dug his fingers into the cracked wooden cup in front of him. There were several copper coins within but, when he withdrew his hand, only a single coin remained.

“But–!”

Liam stilled his tongue as the cane drifted up again. He snatched the copper coin out of the cup, and scurried away with his head down. A passing woman clicked her tongue at the sight of a waif stealing from a blind beggar.

Twilight had fallen on Fassett Town, the ancestral seat of House Fassett. It was plain that things weren’t going so well. The wagons from the west stopped coming since the taking of E-Rantel, save for a handful which had headed straight through. The shops and inns were still and empty, and every day it seemed the air over the streets grew heavier.

The county’s vast expanse of dense forests over rugged hills meant that there wasn’t an abundance of farmland, and the distance from markets both east and west made things more expensive to ship goods out and in. A long time ago, the nobles tried opening quarries and mines, but failed – and so the highway became the life’s blood of the town over generations.

Palming the copper coin in his hand, Liam made his way quickly through the narrow back streets and muddy alleys strewn with filth. New information was valuable, and news about nobles made the brokers more open-handed than they would otherwise be. Through the gloom, he spotted the ghostly figures of other children like himself, looking to pawn off what they had learned to those who could make sense out of what they had to share. It was a race to see who could collect the most coin before knowledge of the events grew old and stale.

After meandering a block or two, he spotted his next mark.

“Miss, miss!” He said excitedly, “Did you hear the news?”

An old lady that had seen too many years turned her pruned face towards him from where she looked out of a window.

“Oh my,” she said, “what’s this about now, my dear?”

“Nobles have come to town,” Liam replied, “with fancy coaches and armed men!”

The wind blew stale air through the streets, tossing wisps of the woman’s thin grey hair about. A crack opened in her squinty eyes.

A few minutes later, he left the old crone with another coin.

One more. I need one more.

Liam searched for one more broker on the outskirts of the town. He made his way halfway around before his steps slowed at the edge of the highway and he looked to the fading horizon. Too much time had passed, and there was little chance what he knew was worth anything at this point.

He looked down and uncurled his fingers. Two coins could buy two chunks of bread, a third would mean a small strip of salted meat. They needed at least that much. He needed to find something else of value. An angry shout in the distance drew his attention: a small crowd was spilling out from a warehouse into the street nearby.

An oppressive atmosphere filled the dimly-lit surroundings as he came close. With crossed arms and clenched fists, grown men of all sorts pressed in on the warehouse door. Angry mutters filled the air. In the shadows around the crowd, women and children had backed well away from the building, sensing the tension that mounted around them.

“If you don’t like it, leave,” a loud voice sounded over the crowd.

There was a rough-looking man at the entrance, flanked by several of the town militia. They did not share the thin and ragged look of the people gathered around them on the street.

“It ain’t about liking it or not!” A man shouted back, “We got mouths to feed – you can’t just double the price of bread like that!”

Liam’s steps slowed. He stopped at a corner near the edge of the scene.

“We just did,” the man standing in front of the warehouse said. “If you can’t pay, then you can work for the town. Fighting men get food.”

Liam left as shouts once again rose. From street to shadowed street he ran. All the stores of food told the same story: the price of bread had doubled – the third time in as many weeks. He needed something he could sell. He looked about desperately, eyes darting over the streets and alleys, searching for opportunities. His gaze crossed over the town square and the row of bodies swaying from the large gibbet in the middle. Man or woman, young or old, it didn’t matter: the starving weren’t even allowed to hunt or forage on the lord’s land – on pain of death.

In contrast to the macabre scene, brightly coloured flags and banners fluttered over the magically illuminated pavement. The highway and main roads had been scoured clean, the storefronts renovated and repainted. Countess Fassett had announced that it was an order from E-Rantel, preparations for the trade that would once again flow through the duchy, returning prosperity to their town. He wondered what sort of sick joke this was. Beneath the thin veneer of celebration, its people were desperate and starving and things only grew worse.

Liam shed his angry thoughts: the fuming of a child could not be turned into coin. He recalled the nobles in their luxurious coaches that went to visit at the Fassett manor and decided it was his best chance to learn something that could go towards earning food.

The lord’s manor was constructed up on a hill overlooking the town, ringed by a tall hedge. Footmen stood guard at the entrance where the dirt road led into the estate but, for the most part, they would not bother chasing after curious onlookers unless they came too close. It was from his current vantage that he had watched the carriages roll into the estate and the noblewomen step out.

To his relief, the carriages were still parked in front of the manor. The estate’s grounds were brightly lit and, occasionally, pairs of manservants appeared to look around. He needed to get closer, but he had never been beyond this point for fear of being caught and beaten by the sentries. A dancing light appeared in the darkness – two footmen patrolling around the outside of the grounds, one of them holding a pole from which a lantern hung. They stopped to talk with the men at the entrance to the estate.

After waiting to see how long they would stay to continue their conversation, Liam slipped into the trees that ringed the base of the hill. The land between the hedge and the treeline was purposely cleared so that those intruding upon the grounds could be easily spotted, so he had to spend time picking his way around through the undergrowth. As the sounds of the town grew distant, faint conversation from the estate could be heard. He stopped and strained his ears as the voices of women floated over the hedge, but no words could be made out.

Out of the darkness, the bobbing light of the patrol appeared again, tracing the edges of the estate. He peered at the hedge. Was it thick enough to hide him entirely? Or would he be left with his arms and legs awkwardly sticking out? There should be more than enough time to return if that was the case. After the light passed and disappeared out of his line of sight he loped forward, low over the ground as he made his way towards the part of the leafy wall which was letting through the least light. The voices grew louder, and he changed his direction to get closer to them. He jumped at a sudden noise and dove under the hedge.

Too loud!

Too loud; too sudden. Surely someone had noticed. He opened one eye cautiously, then the other, as if doing so would make him less conspicuous. Before him he saw a portion of a pristine, blossoming garden illuminated by magical fixtures, carefully cultivated and well-maintained. The shadowed portion he had been startled into was cast by a large tree in the corner of the grounds.

A sigh of relief escaped his lips. He couldn’t see anything past the tree, so no one looking out in his direction would have seen him either. He inched his way around under the dense bushes – if he could match the different voices with the speakers within, surely he could get more than enough for his trouble.

No one had come out to check on the source of the noise which accompanied his clumsy entry, so he settled his nerves before edging out into the shadows cast by the garden lights. Liam looked at the hedge behind the tree, seeing how the shadows were cast to best conceal himself. He took several deep breaths before looking around the massive trunk.

In the garden beyond, not fifty metres away, several women were reclining around a polished marble table near to an open fire. Upon the table was a shiny tray, plated with slices of sausage and cheese alongside rows of light crackers and a ring of candied fruits. The boy’s gaze lingered on the food; he forced himself to ignore it lest his hunger give him away.

Seated facing one another, the finely dressed women he had seen from before basked in the warmth of the flames as the coolness of the evening fell around them. He could finally clearly hear their conversation. Squatting in place, he tried to match their voices: he didn’t even know who the noblewomen were, so appearance would be the best he had for now. His gaze went from figure to figure until he realized one of the servants – the one who had gotten sick – standing near the trio on one side was looking directly at him.

Her dark eyes reflected the flickering flame and the corner of her mouth turned up in a bemused expression. His breath caught in his throat – there was no way she did not know he was there…but how? Liam withdrew behind the tree again before turning to press his face to the ground: looking under the border hedge for signs of the patrol outside. He needed to get away before she raised the alarm.

“Camilla, is something the matter?” A woman’s voice floated over from the garden, “There isn’t something frightening out there, I hope.”

“Not at all, my lady,” came the reply. “An amusing thought crossed my mind.”

“Only someone like you could find amusement with such dreadful business at hand,” the first woman said. “We can’t afford to be distracted here.”

“Of course, my lady,” Camilla replied again. “My apologies.”

Birthright: Act 5, Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Liam ceased his retreat, returning to the shadow of the big tree. He did not know why, but his intrusion had not been reported. Maybe the woman decided he was of no consequence. She had held an expression of amusement – perhaps he was just being toyed with, not even considered a threat to whatever they were doing. Looking back out at the women seated around the fire, he saw that all of those present seemed focused entirely on the discussion.

“The only convincing that needs to be done,” the woman facing away from him said in a thin voice, “is convincing these rebels to cease this foolish standoff. Such rabble has no business occupying my demesne.”

He had never seen or heard the woman speak before but, by her words, she should be Countess Jacqueline Fassett. He had not heard of any rebels, either – there was nothing of the sort mentioned around the town, though it could explain why times had become harder over the past few weeks and why they were looking for fighting men.

Countess Fassett took a sip from her golden chalice as another woman from the trio spoke.

“Can’t you just resolve this amicably and put the past ways of your family behind you, Lady Fassett?” Her higher tones were measured as she attempted to persuade her host, “The future holds such incredible prosperity for everyone that I can’t imagine that either of you would be dissatisfied with a reasonable settlement. This dispute over the succession only continues to bring further ruin upon your people and your house for no worthwhile benefit.”

“The ringleader of this rebellion will not be satisfied until he has cast me from my seat and banished me from my lands or worse, Lady Wagner.” Lady Fassett said, “I must put this animal down and all of his collaborators. I need not remind you that enforcing justice in my own lands is my right – and you have none to interfere.”

“Oh, for the gods’ sake!” The last amongst the women gathered spoke, “Lady Fassett won’t even call her brother by name any more. How can you even refer to him like some sort of beast?”

“My dear Campbell died at Katze,” Lady Fassett replied with a sniff. “Whoever it is leading these rebels claiming to be him is no brother of mine.”

“At least you still have a brother!” The other woman nearly yelled, “All of our brothers actually died in the battle that you pretend to have claimed yours!”

Silence filled the night following her outburst, punctuated by the sounds of the fire and the distraught noblewoman’s sobs.

“This is getting us nowhere,” the first woman – the lady sitting between the two – said. “Lady Fassett, do you truly understand the consequences of your decisions here?”

“Do you presume to threaten me, Countess Corelyn?” Lady Fassett’s voice rose.

“I do no such thing, Lady Fassett,” Countess Corelyn sighed. “We are trying to help you. The entire House of Lords does not wish to witness the result of this destructive course you follow. Since both you and your brother have chosen to shun our words, we have no choice but to enact our sanctions on your entire demesne.”

Countess Corelyn rose to her feet, and the two ladies to either side rose with her. The woman standing behind them – the one who had spotted him – prepared their things to leave.

“Not that it will matter,” Countess Corelyn said in parting. “The whole realm has returned to their duties, so it’s only a matter of time before the Royal Court reaches the limits of their patience and turns their attention to the growing eyesore that is your fief. I’m afraid you will not survive this, Lady Fassett; I can only pray that your people are not made to pay for your folly.”

The visiting ladies made their farewells and made their way out of the garden and through the courtyard of the manor. After the sound of carriages receded beyond the bounds of the estate, Jacqueline Fassett abruptly rose and aimlessly hurled her chalice. With a screech, she swept the untouched food and drink on the table into the flames.

The boy backed away and lowered himself to creep out of the hedge: it was time to leave.

A rebellion. The Royal Court. Nobles from the east, delivering a warning from the other lords. They mentioned the old Count’s son being alive, but the Countess denied it. If Campbell Fassett was alive, he would be Count and living in this manor, not his sister. No one in the town talked about anything like this, and the town was where all the information in the county eventually found itself. The more he tried to make sense out of it, the less it did.

Liam shook his head. What mattered was what it was worth. He was the only one with this information, so he would be able to get plenty enough for a meal. Safely escaping the estate, he returned to the town below and went to locate several brokers to sell his findings to.

In the end, he had earned twelve additional copper coins for his trouble.

He dared not hold onto his windfall, so he had instead bought what amounted to a feast and headed straight home. Liam ran through the alleys with the full meal in his arms. He lightly skipped over the pools of standing liquid as he navigated the bowels of the town, both proud and excited that both he and his sister could enjoy a filling meal for the first time in far too long. He turned one last corner, into the secluded cul-de-sac where they had found a place that was sheltered from the rain by a small overhang and high enough to not become flooded in the spring torrents.

“Saye!” He called out.

Liam came to the end of the small section of alley, standing over the corner that had become their dwelling for the last few weeks.

“Saye?”

He checked for the thin, ragged fabric that they slept on every night, folded and stuffed into a crack in the wall. It hadn’t been disturbed since the morning when the both of them had gone out to look for errands to be done. There were no new footprints or any signs that anyone had been here, either. Saye knew that young girls that went to the wrong parts of town had the tendency to disappear, so he was reasonably confident she would be as safe as one could call themselves by staying well away. He turned around one last time in the silence before heading back out the way he came, towards the ways where her sister should have come from.

Along the way, a muffled curse and the sounds of sporadic scuffling sent him into a run. Not far away, he found a group of three men trying to drag the same number of girls away somewhere. A middle-aged woman holding a thin, lacquered pipe between her fingers stood behind them, watching the struggle.

“Hey, don’t damage them,” she warned the men in a low voice. “These are the best ones we could find here.”

Smoke from the pipe trailed through the air as she gestured towards them, but the men were having a hard time trying to keep the girls quiet as they twisted about. He saw a flash of dirty blonde hair drift out from behind one of the ones facing away from him.

“Saye!” He shouted.

Liam moved without thought at the sight, charging towards the man that was struggling with his sister. He threw himself bodily, but the man barely budged. Liam bounced off and fell to the alley floor; the food spilled out of his arms and scattered into the pools of filmy mud. He ignored it, gaze running over the men as he reoriented himself.

The woman looked down at the boy that was suddenly sprawled on the floor of the alley before her.

“Eh? Who’re you?”

Following his wild-eyed gaze, her tone changed.

“Is this your sister?” She smiled, “Hmm…you look pretty decent too. Come with us boy: we’ll take the both of you to a better place than this.”

Liam looked to her sister, who shook her head vehemently at his unspoken question. Yeah, he thought not. Snatching a piece of old wood discarded on the wayside, he rose to his feet and swung with all his might. The rotted plank broke apart over the side of the man’s knee, and there was a sharp pain in his palms.

“Fuck!” The man shouted as he danced to the side and dropped Saye.

Ignoring the burning sensation in his hands, Liam went for another piece of wood but the man’s boot lashed out and dashed him into the wall of the nearby building. Crushing pain filled the world, and he found himself on his back. Labouring for breath, he struggled to sit up. A looming figure overhead filled his blurred vision.

“You’re dead, you stupid little shit,” the man he had struck growled as he pulled a long club from his belt.

“Hey, that’s good coin you’re throwing away there,” the woman said.

“Not coin,” the man spat. “Food for the rats.”

The boy dimly heard his sister screaming across from him: the arms and legs which had struggled so fruitlessly against her captor were equally powerless in holding him back.

The man’s arm rose, but the blow did not fall. A metallic scent filled the alley before the man fell to his knees instead. Four thin lines ran across his throat, and he dropped his weapon to clutch at his neck. Blood welled out from between his fingers as he made a futile effort to stem the flow.

“W-what?”

The woman’s voice trembled, eyes wide at the sight of the crimson stain running down the man’s greasy shirt to pool on the ground beneath him.

A startled cry came from another of the men, near the other wall of the alley. As his cries quickly turned to anguish, he dropped the girl to the floor below. All eyes were riveted to him in abject terror as they took in the sight of a dark set of talons reaching out from the shadowed wall. Whatever It was, it had grabbed its victim by the head…or perhaps grabbed was not the right way to describe it.

Each talon sunk into the man’s face: one into each of the man’s eyes, while the remaining three punctured his cheeks. His weak attempts to flail at the arm sticking out of the wall simply passed through it, no more effective than swinging at a shadow. The cries ceased for a moment, filling the air with an eerie silence before the man began to wail in panic as he was raised off of his feet. He continued swinging his arms to no avail as blood ran out of the holes gouged into his face.

The man’s struggling weakened to nothing by the time he was slowly raised a metre off of the ground. The shadowy hand squeezed, and the ruin of the man’s face detached from the rest of his skull. His body flopped to the ground with an arc of blood, spattering the girl who was frozen in terror near where he had fallen.

The final man had seen more than enough. He released his girl and fled up the alley, bowling over the woman in his path. Not five steps into his panicked flight, the dark talons reached out from his shadow and snatched his ankles. As he tumbled forward to the ground, his feet were yanked sharply in the opposite direction, and his face whipped into the ground with a sickening crunch.

The woman edged back from the fallen man, as their brutal assailant did not slip back into the darkness. Its claws seemed to grip the edges of the shadow it lay within, as if to pull itself out of the ground. The odor of her soiling herself joined the scent of blood filling the air as they saw that what rose from the shadow was shadow itself.

From the back of its emaciated torso, tattered, bat-like wings with membranes formed of pure darkness sprouted. Sinewy arms extended past its waist, from where dangled the talons still dripping crimson. No legs appeared as it continued to rise – only a wavering, translucent shadow drifting over the ground. Two gleaming yellow slits peered in their direction as it turned its attention their way.

The woman finally rose with a pitiful noise, turning to flee. She did not waste her breath to scream and her billowing skirts filled the alley until she disappeared around a corner.

“Liam!” Saye’s voice roused him from his pain-induced stupor.

He looked up and met her clear blue eyes as she leaned over him in tearful worry. He tried to speak; a groan of pain was forced out of him instead.

“We need to run, Liam.”

Saye’s hands hovered hesitantly over his body as she tried to move him. Whenever she tried to pull on his clothing or his limbs, he let out another pained groan and she flinched away worriedly. Panicked scrabbling focused their attention away again: one of the other girls had gotten up to her feet to run. She made it not two steps before the shadowy monster flickered into existence in front of her.

With a startled gasp, she immediately backed away and tripped over the other girl behind her. The shadow monster slowly advanced towards them, and the two girls untangled themselves from each other to get away. From one side to another it flickered in and out of the darkness as it blocked their attempts to escape, sickly yellow eyes leering at them in amusement. The two girls soon found their shoulders pressed to the wall of the building beside Liam and Saye.

“Liam…” Saye’s terrified voice leaked out to call his name.

Liam rolled onto his side and pushed himself upright, ignoring the agony in his side. Using the wall at his back to support him, he rose halfway to his feet before he slid back down. His vision turned white as his body was jarred against the ground.

The monster seemed content to watch his struggles, its eyes turned up in glee. After Liam fell once again, it rose to loom over them, spreading it’s shadowy wings wide. Looking to each of their gaunt faces, it seemed to savour their suffering, fear and pain. Liam already knew that they were being toyed with and, one by one, they all understood that there would be no escape. When it appeared that each of the children had resolved themselves to their fate, the monster spoke in a sibilant whisper that chilled their blood and raised goosebumps as it washed over their bodies.

“Camilla will see you now.”

Birthright: Act 5, Chapter 4

Chapter 4

“…are we really camping?” Clara asked for the third time.

“Do you really trust any of the accommodations in that town?” Ludmila replied.

“Well, no,” Clara admitted, “but sleeping out here does not seem much safer…”

The place that Ludmila had selected was a ridge which rose a few hundred metres distant from the highway, approximately two kilometres from the walls of Fassett Town. The flat, windswept hilltop had a cliff on one side overlooking the lights of the distant buildings below, and both north and south approaches of the highway could be clearly observed from their vantage. The carriages were arranged in a perimeter on one side of the camp, and the servants in their entourage were busily working to erect tents and barricades according to Ludmila’s directions as she oversaw the establishment of a defensible position.

The four young noblewomen stood looking out over the cliff towards the town as they discussed amongst themselves.

“It will be, once we are done entrenching ourselves,” Ludmila said. “Those prices were ridiculous, as well – I could have us living out here for a year with what they charge for a week. I don’t think any of us would have liked to stay in town anyways; I can still taste whatever that was in the air. At least here we command our surroundings.”

The twelve footmen and six drivers were divided into three watches to cover all the hours of the day. It was not unlike organizing a patrol, so when she started to issue instructions after their arrival, everyone had quickly deferred to Ludmila’s apparent expertise. The maids which had accompanied them had set about making the site more comfortable with mixed degrees of enthusiasm: some viewed it with an excited sense of adventure, while others were reluctant at the idea of sleeping out in the ‘wilderness’.

Liane and Florine were a part of the latter group, having been raised in their luxurious city manors and travelling in similarly comfortable conditions. Clara, who had been exposed to House Zahradnik since childhood, had at least been dragged out several times on childhood adventures over the years – though their present surroundings were markedly more dangerous than the impromptu romps with Ludmila and their brothers through the well-managed vineyards and woodlands in Corelyn Barony.

“These are the best footmen between your households, aren’t they?” Ludmila said, “We should be fine; they seem at least as proficient as the best of the city militia.”

Two of the men patrolling the perimeter nearby straightened as her voice drifted over them.

“They are,” Clara replied, “but what if a mob is roused against us?”

“Lady Shalltear sent three of her servants to accompany us as well,” Ludmila said. “I’m confident that the footmen can fulfil their assignments – Lady Shalltear’s servants will deal with any large, hostile groups should the need arise.”

She had spent the better part of the previous night speaking with Lady Shalltear about her new duties, and they had parted in the early hours in the morning. Three Shadow Demons appeared at the foot of her bed shortly after, just as she was drifting off to sleep. Her Talent allowed her to see them clearly even as they lurked in the darkness and they wouldn’t leave her alone; the unfamiliar and eerie presences had her give up on sneaking in an hour or two of rest before departing E-Rantel.

“So you really did tell her…” Florine’s amber eyes reflected the light of the campfire along with her apprehension, “We were supposed to keep this out of the Royal Court’s notice, weren’t we?”

“My liege will not be informing the rest of the Royal Court,” Ludmila reassured her. “Not until we make our attempt at resolving this issue ourselves. We should be here for the next week or so, yes? Perhaps we can convince one or both of them by then.”

“I guess…” Liane shifted in her mantle as they watched moonlight and shadows play over the forests enveloping the town, “We did just show up uninvited to deliver the will of the House of Lords. Maybe time to digest things will make them more amenable, but I’m not optimistic. What will we do if–”

Seeing Ludmila’s raised hand, Liane abruptly stopped speaking.

“What is it?” Clara asked.

“There’s a group of people coming up the road from the town.” Ludmila replied, “They’re at the base of the hill leading up to us.”

Clara, Liane and Florine all turned their attention to the road. The sentries posted around the camp did not yet show any indication of having noticed the group approaching in the darkness.

“Footman,” Ludmila called.

All the way at the perimeter of the camp, a tall man in the livery of House Wagner reacted to her voice. Even from their distance, he somehow knew exactly who had called him and strode directly towards her.

“Yes, Lady Camilla?” He said with a slight bow.

“There are four coming up the road from the north,” she said. “Let the others know.”

The footman turned to peer out over the cliff down at the road, but confirmation of her claim did not enter his expression. He did not dispute her words, though. Heading out to the perimeter, he started to inform the other sentries and soon the edge of the camp was abuzz with activity.

Three footmen stepped out onto the road: two held winged spears while the third raised a torch aloft in one hand, brandishing his warhammer in the other. The remaining three men on watch unlimbered their longbows and stood on the edge of the half-built perimeter. The maids and noblewomen were instructed to enter the safety of the carriages, but Ludmila stopped them.

“Wait,” she said, “they look like children.”

“My Lady,” Lluluvien spoke up at her words. “Even children can be dangerous – especially in Fassett County.”

Heads turned to the Half-Elf maid with incredulous expressions. The driver nearby took her words to heart, however, and ushered them into the opened doors. Ludmila retrieved her longbow from where it rested against one of the carriages, bracing it between her legs to string it.

“Go on ahead,” she told the others. “I’ll take care of things outside.”

She picked up one of her quivers of arrows nearby and hooked it to its place on her kidney belt before heading off to wait against the carriage nearest to the road. Her fingers idly ran over the shaft of the arrow she had drawn from her quiver as she watched the children approach, but her expression soon changed from suspicion to concern.

Ludmila checked herself as she reflexively moved to help them, recalling Lluluvien’s words. Ever since they had entered Fassett County, the disturbing sensation that permeated the villages and towns had put her constantly on her guard. The feeling from the town, especially, had been overpowering: causing her to physically retch when disembarking at Jacqueline Fassett’s manor. The other noblewomen seemed to have handled it better, but it still lent an antagonistic edge to their thoughts and words, making it a challenge to negotiate with both Campbell and Jacqueline Fassett.

She eyed the children as they approached. There was one boy and three girls. The girls seemed to be slowing their pace so that the boy who was shuffling along could keep up. They all had a disheveled appearance, but the boy was degrees worse. His clothing was soiled and he looked battered as he limped along. There was a clear injury where his shirt was stained with blood and stuck to his side.

This couldn’t be a ruse, could it? A convincing performance to make them drop their guard for an ambush from the trees? Ludmila scanned their surroundings but saw no one. She had quickly come to learn that most who used the cover of darkness to conceal their presence tended to rely on it too much, often standing out in the open where darkness would conceal their forms. Her Talent allowed her to see with perfect clarity regardless of lighting, so their doing so made them stand out conspicuously to her while they remained oblivious to the fact that they had been detected – as long as she did not give her awareness of them away.

After one last scan of their surroundings, Ludmila decided that they presented no threat. She turned and knocked on the door of the carriage which sheltered several of the maids. After a moment it opened, and Wiluvien poked her head out.

“Yes, my lady?”

“There’s an injured child coming,” Ludmila said. “What methods do we have available to treat him?”

Wiluvien’s head disappeared back into the carriage and the murmur of voices could be heard as the maids within spoke between themselves. A moment later, her chambermaid’s head reappeared.

“There’s a small chest of light healing potions – two dozen vials in total.” She reported, “There’s also two wands of Light Cure wounds in case of emergencies.”

“A potion should be fine,” Ludmila said. “He looks severely injured, but he was able to walk all the way out here. Get some clean clothes ready for them, as well as warm food – you and your sister’s work starts here.”

“Yes, my lady,” Wiluvien nodded, “we’ll begin preparing right away.”

The carriage door closed and Ludmila turned back to watch the children as they approached the footmen on the road. After a brief exchange, the man with the torch turned to look over the carriages until their eyes met and he gave her a questioning look. Ludmila nodded and the men brought the children up towards the perimeter of the campsite. The man with the torch put away his weapon and handed the torch over to his fellow, then trotted ahead over to her.

“That one asked for you by name, Lady Camilla,” he said, motioning to one of the girls in the group walking up the slope to the camp.

“Did they say anything else?” Ludmila asked.

“No, my lady,” he replied. “She immediately asked for you, and wouldn’t say anything else. Did you know they were coming?”

“I sent someone to retrieve one of them,” she said, “but it looked like something happened before that. The maids will take care of them from here. The next watch should be ready to take over soon as well, so make sure the men on your watch get food and rest when they do.”

The footman bowed slightly and returned to his post. Ludmila knocked on the door of the carriage again.

“They’re here,” she said after Wiluvien opened the door. “Get the girls cleaned up and changed, and bring out their meals.”

With the state of alarm lowered, the noblewomen returned to where they had been standing near the fire.

“Why did children come out to us in the middle of the night?” Florine wondered, “They looked quite wretched from what I saw of them: all skin and bone and rags.”

Though she said this aloud, they all had a vague idea of the reasons from their passage through the county. The land was in a terrible state that anyone could recognize on sight and, to those present with well-managed fiefs, it gave off a disgusting sensation bordering on being outright offensive.

While the highway and the buildings nearest to it had been cleaned up and made to look festive and inviting, the people looked anything but. Common were sallow faces that did not look up at their surroundings. Men and women were not dressed to reflect the celebratory atmosphere that was suggested by the colourful flags that fluttered over the streets. The streets themselves were only frequented by adults and emaciated children who looked entirely uncared for.

Warden’s Vale was poor and humble, but it’s people were well cared for, proud and resolute. The territories to the east near the city of E-Rantel had been arrayed in the same festive manner as the main thoroughfares in Fassett County, but their people carried bright and lively expressions and were adorned in the colourful fashions of spring.

The further west they travelled, the more it seemed that they were entering into a different world: the capital of Fassett County, which lay closest to the border with Re-Estize, seemed to teeter on the edge of ruin. The shallow attempt to fool passers-by only had the effect of making things look even worse.

Large population centres rose as a result of the industries that grew in the territories surrounding them. They represented the wealth and productivity of a demesne, be it a minor fee managed by a member of the gentry, or a duchy ruled by royalty. Looking upon the sickening caricature that was Fassett Town, Ludmila could not imagine what course of action House Fassett could have taken to turn it into the very image of destitution and helpless despair. To accomplish this, it would take far more effort than simply administering one’s demesne in a proper manner.

“I sent for one of them,” Ludmila told them. “The boy was spying on our meeting with Lady Fassett.”

“You’re…you’re not planning on doing something to him, I hope,” Florine looked at her fearfully with wide eyes.

“I’m not exactly sure what you’re thinking when you say that,” Ludmila frowned, “but it’s not anything terrible. The chambermaids that accompanied me were originally from Fassett County, so I’m relying on them to help paint a more complete picture of what is really going on here. They suggested that I find people willing to work with us to provide the information that we need. That boy was willing to infiltrate the guarded estate of a Countess, so I thought he must know other things as well.”

There was a rustle through the grass behind them and Ludmila turned to see Wiluvien bringing three children towards them. They had been scrubbed pink and dressed in clean, white smocks; damp hair left loose to dry in the wind. Though rushed through their attentions, they still looked far improved compared to before.

“How’s the boy?” Ludmila asked.

“He’s resting at the moment, my lady,” Wiluvien said. “His injuries were quite severe: several broken ribs; his breath was ragged and gurgling. The healing potion has already done its work – he should be fine when he awakens.”

The boy had walked all the way here with those injuries? He was far tougher than he looked. Her instructions to the Shadow Demon had not been thorough enough, as well.

Ludmila nodded, and Wiluvien led them to a row of seats arranged around the fire opposite the noblewomen. The three of them looked back and forth uncertainly between the adults before one of the girls visibly resolved herself.

“Are you Camilla?” She asked loudly, and Clara jumped.

Liane tried to hold back a laugh but it came out through her nose. The girl had ventured that the most prominent-looking among them was who she was looking for. She backed away, glancing at Liane, and sat down again with an uncertain look.

Lluluvien appeared from the tents beyond them, carrying a silver tray in her hands. Two other maids carried their own behind her. Together they held the trays in front of the girls and lifted the covers. Plates containing fresh bread, steamed vegetables and sweetened meats filled the air with their aroma.

The girls visibly swallowed.

“Let's leave them to their dinner," Liane said with a smirk. "They should be less...eager, once their hunger is sated.”

Birthright: Act 5, Chapter 5

Chapter 5

The maids led the girls away to be seated around the campfire, where they hungrily dug into their meal. The four noblewomen were left alone together to continue their discussion, and Ludmila continued surveying the town below.

“It wasn’t a nice thing, laughing like that,” Clara shot Liane a look.

“A powerful countess of the mighty Sorcerous Kingdom, jumping scared at little girls?” Liane said, “You can’t say that wasn’t funny.”

Clara pouted as the others joined in Liane’s mirth, laughter rising over the wind and the dancing flames. Far away from the eyes of outsiders, the layers of courtly conduct fell away between them, replaced by the casual tone between friends. Well, as casual as one might be with their current circumstances; much of their conversation revolved around their work by necessity.

“Besides, I believe such initiative should be lauded,” Liane continued. “With a little bit of training, her naked ambition can be harnessed and refined towards productive ends. If there are no objections, I’d like to take her for one of my companies.”

“You can’t just steal girls off of the street, Liane,” Florine said. “Her parents must be worried sick.”

“From the looks of it, I doubt she has any.” Liane replied, “Her value is lost on this sorry excuse for a town.”

“We should have some answers about what happened to them now,” Ludmila said. “The one that brought them has returned as well. Tell us what happened.”

The three other noblewomen looked around themselves, confused over who she had addressed. A cold voice filtered through the night air before them.

“The boy ordered for retrieval encountered three men and a woman, who were struggling with the three Human girls. He fought – presumably to free one of them. The matter was…expedited.”

“It is discourteous to conceal yourself to the others in this situation,” Ludmila said. “Do not make them listen to a disembodied voice.”

Beyond the edge of the cliff, the Shadow Demon rose out of the darkness and floated before them. Even when not purposely concealing itself, its translucent form must have been difficult for the others to see with just the light of the campfire.

“This…is one of the servants Lady Shalltear sent with you?” Clara eyed the dark figure warily.

“Yes,” Ludmila said, “they are called Shadow Demons. Lady Shalltear saw fit to have three of them accompany us to aid in our work.”

“D-demons…” Florine turned pale. “Wasn’t there some disturbance last year in Re-Estize’s capital involving some Demon invasion?”

“I’m the last person that would know about anything of the sort,” Ludmila replied. “You should be well aware that Humans are just a part of the Sorcerous Kingdom, so, while we may be responsible for Human subjects ourselves, acting as if we are still nobles of a Human kingdom would be foolish. These Shadow Demons currently serve me; I serve Lady Shalltear; Lady Shalltear serves His Majesty. It’s not so different from before, yes?”

Beside her, Clara nodded. After a moment, Liane and Florine slowly nodded as well. Ludmila addressed the Shadow Demon once again.

“So these men,” she asked, “for what reason were they doing this?”

“They were stealing them,” it answered.

The women blinked.

“The girls were struggling against their captors,” the Shadow Demon explained at length. “The boy opposed their actions.”

“Fassett’s men, my lady,” a voice from behind them said. “Or someone working under their auspices. The children have the look of street waifs: if the homeless vanish from the streets, they will not be missed.”

The Linum sisters came to stand near their mistress, and Lluluvien continued speaking.

"Young girls are valuable," she said matter-of-factly, “for various reasons. I would be surprised if they were not being taken away to be sold – the evidence of their neglect aside, they would all be considered pleasing in appearance to most.”

“So they were slavers, then?” Florine’s mouth twisted.

“Probably not just slavers, Lady Gagnier,” Lluluvien said. “House Fassett has their hand in other...ventures as well. The same skills are used across many lines of this sort of work.”

“I suspect we’ll be discovering in detail what exactly they’ve been involved in over the next few days,” Ludmila looked towards the other noblewomen. “But I still cannot understand how this all came to be. It’s in flagrant defiance of the Crown Laws and these are the laws of Re-Estize: in force since before the E-Rantel changed hands.”

Clara, Liane and Florine exchanged quick glances at her words. Liane was singled out by the others, and she met Ludmila’s gaze before letting out a sigh.

“What?” Ludmila frowned.

“I’m sorry. It’s just…” Liane let out a short laugh, “It’s just that I’ve never known a noble like you before. We’ve all seen each other through the years at few functions, but we’ve never really spoken plainly, I guess. I’ve always thought Clara upright and austere, but you’re far beyond even her. Or maybe it’s a part of you that’s rubbed off on her, considering how close you two are.”

Liane rubbed her chin, then looked up at the clear night sky. She let out a breath and met Ludmila’s gaze again.

“Okay,” Liane said. “Let’s try it this way. Nobles are granted their authority, rights and privileges through the contract they hold with their liege. With that power, they are expected to fulfil their obligations to land and liege. Makes sense so far, right?”

“Yes, of course,” Ludmila replied.

“Now,” Liane asked her, “what happens if they fail to meet their obligations?”

“That would depend on what the circumstances are, wouldn’t it?” Ludmila answered, “Bad harvests can happen, so one could appeal to have their tax obligations waived. Natural disasters, monster attacks, sickness and death – they can all affect how well one can meet their contractual obligations.”

“Are you doing this on purpose?” Liane frowned.

“Doing what on purpose?” Ludmila frowned back.

“We had an audience with Campbell earlier today, then Jacqueline just now: you even puked in front of her manor after sensing all of the problems in this county. Do you think either of them are doing any of this accidentally? What we see is House Fassett’s doing, and the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

“It still begs the question why they would do something like this in the first place,” Ludmila said. “To me, at least. How they’ve been able to get away with it for so long is difficult to grasp as well. One glance and you already know that something has gone terribly wrong.”

“You can now, sure,” Liane replied, “but in better days, the towns and villages along the highway can be made to look much the same as any other and, to be honest, there are more than a few places out west that are just as bad, or even worse. The King only came to E-Rantel for one reason: to be there for the annual skirmish against the Empire – I doubt a review of his demesne was anywhere near the top of his list of priorities. The Provosts that were appointed managed things from a desk in the city. In short, you could say it’s a matter of reach. Only a noble of the same court has any chance of bringing it to the attention of their liege. Without the means to provide decisive proof, however, it becomes the word of one noble against another.

“As for why they would do this…well, it’s because they can. We are judge, jury and executioner within our own lands: answerable only to our own liege. I suppose you could say that we nobles may be placed on a scale: there are those that try their best to serve faithfully, promoting development and upholding order, then there are those that are entirely self-serving and get away with whatever they can. Those on the extreme ends of the scale are extraordinarily rare; most are somewhere in between, for any number of reasons. They may lack the power and will to do what is just, or have the power and will to do what is just, but decide to exercise it for their own interests.”

“Did you know about all of this, Clara?” Ludmila asked.

“I understand how it works, roughly,” Clara replied. “When it comes to knowledge and experience on things that happen elsewhere, however, I can’t make any statements with much conviction. Liane, on the other hand, should know quite a lot about it.”

“Why would Liane…”

“Because Liane is Lady Wagner,” Liane shrugged, “and House Wagner owns a half-dozen merchant companies – well, more now. Hundreds of merchant caravans, plus all of their employees. I get to hear all sorts of things about what goes on in the wide world, and not all of it is nice and pretty. Uh…I hope you weren’t suspecting me of anything: I’d rather not get stabbed.”

“It’s difficult for me to suspect others like this,” Ludmila admitted, “even after all that’s happened, these conclusions just don’t easily come to mind. Thank you for being so patient with me, Liane.”

“It’s not a bad frame of mind to have,” Clara said, “as long as one is also aware of what can potentially be going on. Without a balanced perspective, there would be no end to how far one could go in the pursuit of what we imagine. I’m sure we’ll all learn a lot from this; hopefully we’ll figure out a way to effectively deal with House Fassett as well.”

“There’s always Ludmila’s new duties,” Florine said, “whatever they are…but yes, a peaceful solution is best.”

Ludmila agreed silently: she did not want to resort to extreme measures unless it became necessary. Doing so was the same as saying that the laws in place were insufficient. The more she relied on her new authority, the more likely it seemed that the laws would be viewed as unacceptable and torn apart. She needed as much information as possible, taking precise actions that would only result in minor amendments or special measures being implemented for what His Majesty had put in place.

She felt that there was much more to be discussed, but it could wait until they started their investigation. Ludmila turned to address the Shadow Demon, who had floated patiently before them the entire time.

“These men you encountered,” she asked. “What happened to them?”

“They were made to suffer,” a yellow gash appeared on its face as it smiled, “before being slain. The Great Master’s Mandates are not to be frivolously disregarded.”

“And the woman?”

“She was allowed to flee,” it replied. “One of the others is watching her.”

“Good,” Ludmila nodded. “You may withdraw. There should be some new instructions soon, so stay nearby.”

The Shadow Demon shimmered briefly in the darkness as it concealed itself again, and Ludmila’s gaze followed it for a time before she turned back to the gathering.

“Peaceful solution, huh,” Liane said.

“You...you just killed three men,” Florine said quietly.

Ludmila did not deny her words; agents of the nobility carried out their will, after all. If anything, the reminder only served to fuel her anger against House Fassett.

“If they were caught doing the same in our territories,” Clara said, “this would have been the result as well. Considering the condition of the boy, I’m of a mind that it was the most appropriate action, if only to intervene in abduction and murder.”

“So this is the answer, then?” Liane’s voice wavered in the wind, “To find and hunt down every criminal in Fassett County, until the Undead start to appear from the mountain of corpses?”

“We have a little under two weeks,” Ludmila replied, “so I don’t think there’s time enough for that – not that I intended on doing what you suggested. I was hoping a demonstration that the Crown Laws could no longer be evaded in such a manner would encourage House Fassett to relent…but we’ll need to find those that would impress this notion upon them first.”

“So some sort of manager?” Florine said, “Or…or…I don’t know. How do these people even operate?”

“They’re merchants,” Liane shrugged, “of a sort. Slavery is perfectly legal outside of the Sorcerous Kingdom and Re-Estize, so it’s simply just another part of a merchant’s business to those who operate abroad. House Wagner doesn’t do it, obviously, but it’s just not something that’s done in secrecy elsewhere. It would be a simple matter to shut down House Fassett, if we had more time. Especially with Ludmila suggesting that she can somehow act above the law…”

The head of House Wagner’s words trailed off abruptly, and her icy blue gaze turned up towards Ludmila.

“Are you sure you can do this?” She said, “This kind of power is dangerous.”

“It’s beyond dangerous,” said Clara flatly, “it’s euphoric. Especially to people like us. My father once told me that blind righteousness can lead to ruin just as easily as rampant corruption. Now ,there are four of us all together that hate what is going on here for the same reasons – Lu–Camilla especially. If she were to exercise the authority she has been entrusted with without constraint…well, she is nothing if not thorough.”

They stared out over the town in silence at her words. A log broke and collapsed into the fire, sending a cloud of sparks into the night sky.

“It’s not just Camilla,” Clara added. “I don’t think I can fight this feeling either. Whenever I have someone responsible for all this in front of me, I become positively livid inside. I could barely maintain control over my own words when I spoke to the both of them. You heard me just now: I essentially told Jacqueline Fassett that she was a dead woman at the end of our audience. I’m not confident that I can represent the House of Lords if condemnation spills out of my mouth every time I see one of the Fassetts. We’re supposed to be helping them out of their predicament, not setting them at odds against us.”

“It might just be something to get used to,” Ludmila offered. “At least I hope it is something we can get used to, not that I enjoy it. You have a more measured disposition than my own, Clara – if anyone manages to reign this in, it would be you. You’re still the most qualified to represent us here, besides. I can imagine the reception that someone of lower rank would get from them.”

Clara frowned worriedly upon hearing her vote of confidence.

“Maybe it isn’t strange at all?” Florine said, “Maybe there are other nobles out there that have the same sort of thing influencing them. It’s not something one would talk about, would they? If I didn’t have it myself, it would sound absolutely crazy.”

“It’s not even something to share,” Liane mused. “We all inherently knew each of us were the same without putting it to words, shortly after we got to know one another. Perhaps others gather in the same way, nobles of the same disposition assembling naturally and influencing their subordinates – we don’t exactly see tyrants purging great swathes of their own vassals for the sake of order, do we?”

“We do, actually,” Florine answered quietly. “Just not in Re-Estize.”

Liane’s mouth opened, then closed again. No one wanted that repeated here – it was the worst possible outcome that they were trying to avoid.

“Let’s not make grim monikers for ourselves, shall we?” Clara said, “The ideal outcome is that this land is restored to order in an agreeable manner and set on the path to recovery. I’m not so optimistic as to think that everything will fall into place so easily, even without our…biases, but we must still make our best efforts. We’re starting from a poor position: both of our meetings with Campbell and Jacqueline only made them reciprocate by digging in their heels. It may take all the time we have to make them realize that they absolutely need to fall in line, or they may even remain stubborn to the bitter end. For this possibility, we will need to draw the line after which stronger measures are required to convince them…and, in the worst case, the line where we consider the situation unsalvageable.”

Ludmila mulled over the available options, of which there were too few for the time being. They needed more information. She turned back to see if the girls had finished their dinner.

“Ah–” she said, “the children are falling asleep.”

The others turned at her words. Two of the girls – including the one that had spoken – were sleeping in their chairs with emptied trays in front of them. The third, however, was still picking at her meal. She looked hesitant to finish her food, and stole furtive glances at the carriages behind her.

“Was it your brother that came with you?” Ludmila asked as she came close and knelt in front of the girl.

With wide eyes the colour of clear topaz, the girl stared back at her. After a moment, she nodded.

“The fellow that saved you told me what happened,” Ludmila said. “Your brother was very brave. We have treated his wounds, but he was quite badly injured so he needs his rest. There will be food for him as well; you need not save a portion of your dinner for him.”

The flickering light from the flames nearby played across the girl’s face as she seemed to weigh Ludmila’s words. Her silver fork moved to pick up the food on the plate before the girl and she resumed eating.

“I am the one called Camilla,” Ludmila said. “How shall I call you?”

“Saye,” the girl’s fork paused, but she did not look up.

“What about your brother?”

“Liam.”

“Liam…” Ludmila smiled warmly, “That is a very troublesome name.”

“Why?”

“A part of you should already know,” she replied, “even if the rest of you does not quite yet. Make sure you take care of your brother, Saye.”

Saye nodded, and a fitful voice sounded nearby from one of the sleeping girls, turning Ludmila’s attention towards the sound.

“Do you know these other girls as well, Saye?”

The girl shook her head.

“I see,” Ludmila said, rising to her feet. “Well, once you are finished with your meal, we will take you back to your brother so you can watch over him. When he wakes up, just let one of the servants know and they will bring him his meal.”

“Okay.”

Ludmila walked back over to the others.

“We’re not starting immediately, my lady?” Lluluvien asked.

“With the children? No.” Ludmila replied, “There are still other things to do besides. I’ll have you and your sister learn to work together with the Shadow Demons first. You’ll coordinate with them at night, Lluluvien, and Wiluvien will do so during the day. Use what you know as a base of knowledge from which to expand from – then we can weigh your findings along with what these children share with us after they’ve rested tonight.”

“Very good, my lady,” Lluluvien withdrew to wait on her once again.

“Your maids are very close to you,” Clara noted as Ludmila rejoined them.

“I only have four of them,” Ludmila replied. “You don’t have any maids that are the same way?”

“Not to the point where I openly plot the demise of a noble house together with them,” Clara said with a slight laugh. “How are the children?”

“The girl that was awake was worried about her brother,” Ludmila said. “The other two are sound asleep…where are we putting them?”

“There are plenty of spare things packed,” Liane said. “It shouldn’t be a problem taking care of them. I’ll have another tent prepared.”

“In that case,” Ludmila told them, “we should get our rest while we can as well: the coming week will be a busy one.”

Birthright: Act 5, Chapter 6

Chapter 6

With all that had happened over the past few weeks, Ludmila had pushed many memories of her regular life away to focus on adjusting to all the changes that had occurred. Regular life inevitably returned, however: whether it was getting holes in her manor roof fixed, dealing with villager complaints or finding a new hole in her stockings. This time, it was in the form of the clingy sleeper that was Clara Corelyn.

With her lack of sleep from the previous day, memories of the past did not even cross her mind. She crawled into their carriage, undressed, and passed out on the spacious and comfortable bed its interior had been converted into. Not that the amount of space mattered. With the morning light filtering through the drapes, Ludmila awoke to find herself thoroughly tangled up with Clara.

If it was midsummer, the heat would have had Ludmila throw her friend off in the middle of the night. But, with the chill of spring still settling over them in the night, she had slept right through to the morning in their too-luxurious accommodations. Rather than try to untangle herself, she poked Clara in the forehead. The first try didn’t work so she poked her again. They were both late sleepers and risers, and she knew that they were usually up around the same times of the day.

Then again, her friend was far busier than she was. The size of her demesne had increased tenfold with her promotion, and Ludmila could not imagine how she managed. The village-and-a-half in her own barony kept her continually occupied as it was. Maybe she should let Clara rest a while longer.

The shadows of the household servants passing back and forth in the camp as they worked could be seen over obscured windows, and a pair stopped outside of the door. A silver bell chimed lightly in the corner of the carriage and Ludmila froze as Clara stirred slightly at her shoulder, softly murmuring in her ear.

She needed to get away. Untangling one leg was the most she could accomplish before the bell chimed a second time.

“I’M UP ALREADY!”

Clara’s voice thundered straight into her ear, and Ludmila’s head rang in the aftermath. Did she just use an ability to amplify her voice? She felt her ear with her hand – it did not come away with any blood – then turned her head to glower at her friend, who was clearly still asleep with a satisfied smile on her face and an arm over Ludmila’s midriff. Baroness Zahradnik sat up in their bed, and Countess Corelyn continued to cling to her like a giant forest leech. Perhaps it should be comforting that some things never changed.

Fifteen minutes later, Ludmila finally escaped from her friend’s clutches. Clara’s lady’s maid and Wiluvien awaited outside. Though the carriage was magically soundproofed, Clara’s maid still offered an apologetic smile.

“Good morning, my lady,” Wiluvien greeted her.

“Good morning, Wiluvien,” Ludmila replied. “How are we doing?”

“Little of note has occurred overnight,” the Half-Elf chambermaid fell in behind her. “After setting up a tent for our work, Lluluvien has been able to survey most of the town with the two Shadow Demons not assigned to watch over the camp. She left her reports in the pavilion before retiring for the day.”

Fassett Town was relatively small as far as county capitals went, but it still had a population of nearly two thousand. The Linum sisters had certainly hurled themselves at their task with incredible zeal.

“What happened to the woman that was being tailed?” Ludmila asked.

“She seemed to have run straight home rather than to anywhere important,” Wiluvien said. “We had the free Shadow Demon check up on the other, and it reported that the woman had fallen asleep. Lluluvien thought it would be a better use of our time to have both collecting information from the town after that.”

“I see,” Ludmila said. “How are you and your sister feeling? It can’t be nice returning to this place.”

“It is as you say, my lady,” Wiluvien said after a moment’s pause, “but we’re still thankful that you’ve brought us along. To have the opportunity to be of use to you here against House Fassett is like a salve after being so powerless for so long. The chance to find our mother is a great motivation as well.”

“She wasn’t in Jacqueline’s manor, I take it?”

“No, my lady,” Wiluvien shook her head. “Lluluvien ordered the manor scoured for anything useful first. The Shadow Demons came away with some information on House Fassett, but there was no sign of our mother there.”

Ludmila had not spotted any Elf servants with Campbell Fassett either. Hopefully Mrs. Linum could still be found somewhere in the county.

They came to a set of tables placed inside the semicircle of tents and carriages. Used to transporting goods and people for long distances and offering high class accommodations for their passengers, House Wagner employed various magical items that revolved around its trading and transport businesses. The table was lined with containers, and each was enchanted to preserve the temperature and quality of the meal that it contained. Multiple meals were prepared beforehand and taken at the leisure of their guests, who were able to enjoy fresh, hot meals on demand at any time of the day. Beverages were also kept ready in crystal decanters enchanted with the same magic, so refreshments both hot and cold were available as well.

According to Liane, they even transported perishable cargo using a scaled-up version of the same concept. It was an idea that Ludmila wanted to explore at some point for use in her own demesne. Picking up a box that was labeled with something that wouldn’t leave her hungry for the rest of the morning, she made her way to the pavilion near the overlook. There, she found Liane and Florine, discussing something as they ate breakfast together.

“Early risers both, I see.”

Ludmila found a seat at their table, which was set just outside the pavilion to offer a view of the surroundings. A much larger wooden table had been put together in the middle of the pavilion, where a map had been laid out and several documents rested.

“We both slept in, actually,” Liane replied. “I’m usually up with the sun; Florine’s running around even earlier. Too much excitement for one day, maybe.”

“The two of you are the complete opposite of us,” Ludmila said as she lifted the cover of her meal, “we usually stay up well into the night.”

“We found that out about Clara a few weeks ago,” Florine said. “We showed up for breakfast and ended up having lunch instead. It’s a surprise to find that you’re the same, though – I thought life on the border would mean that you’re even more bound to the daylight hours than we are.”

“Not necessarily,” Ludmila replied. “Many Demihumans are nocturnal, so vigilance is required at all hours. It is true that most of the villagers who are not on watch and patrol duties rely on daylight, however. As for myself, I think I’ve always preferred evenings over mornings.”

As she set into her meal of sausage, scrambled eggs, toast and some sort of mixed salad, she noticed that they had been going over several of the reports that had been put together overnight. Each parchment was filled with numbered paragraphs in neat and angular handwriting.

“You’ve started going over the findings so far?” Ludmila asked.

“Yes,” Liane shifted in her seat slightly. “It’s unsettling…in more ways than we initially expected.”

“How do you mean?”

“Well,” Liane said, “at first I was astonished at how quickly and thoroughly these notes are being put together. Your chambermaid was able to create a new map of the town and each building is marked and detailed on these notes with their appearance, general layout, notable inhabitants and contents that may be of interest.”

Liane picked up a folder containing several dozen sheets of paper. She withdrew the documents and placed them on the centre of their table.

“This is one of the summaries of the information retrieved from the manor overlooking the town,” she said. “It indexes documents and ledgers that have been copied and filed away for us to sift through later. While much of what was discovered runs vaguely along the lines of our expectations, all the information flowing in made me realize something else: House Fassett; this town – they are utterly defenceless against these Shadow Demons…and so are we.”

“We asked your maid how they were able to accomplish all of this,” Florine said, “and what she described beggared belief. These Shadow Demons fly around, and can jump from shadow to shadow. They can seep through walls, doors, floors and ceilings. Even locked cabinets and safes are no obstacle, and they can just as simply appear into the darkness inside enclosed spaces, take what they want, and come back out. It’s enough to make me want to check under my bed for monsters again, like when I was a child.”

“If the Sorcerous Kingdom so desired,” Liane gestured with her soup spoon, “the private information of anyone, even the dealings of an entire demesne, can be laid bare on a whim as long as it can be observed or stolen by a Shadow Demon. There is no fortress or vault that is safe and, even when I’m actively keeping an eye out for them as they go back and forth between the camp and the town, I can’t see them unless they reveal themselves to us on purpose. I’m not suggesting that we have any illicit activities to hide, but confidentiality in business is valued by both ourselves and our clients. It also should not be left unsaid that they can plant information just as easily as they can steal it.”

“It comes down to a matter of trust, does it not?” Ludmila said, “Never mind such convoluted means, the Royal Court can crush all of us with force alone if they so desired. The old politics, where nobles constantly maneuver in games of intrigue and influence, no longer carry the same weight in the dynamics of the realm. His Majesty has no fear of disapproval or rebellion, so there is no motive for these sorts of actions on the part of the Sorcerer King.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Liane did not look pleased with the admission, “but we don’t enjoy the same relationship with our liege as you do with yours. Lady Shalltear at least interacts with you from time to time, and this personal duty she has bestowed on you implies some degree of shared trust. We have not seen His Majesty since…since…hmm…”

Liane looked to Florine with an unspoken question on her face. The younger noblewoman thought for a moment.

“I heard His Majesty was seen on the first of the month, walking around the city,” Florine said, “As far as audiences go, however…I haven’t heard of any. Since his last appearance, he hasn’t been seen at all. I was in my rural manor when he formally came to claim E-Rantel, and he wasn’t present the few times I’ve had an audience with the Royal Court.”

“It’s the same for me,” said Liane, “I don’t even know what His Majesty looks like. You’d think that conquerors would be putting up statues and monuments marking their achievements all over the place, but I guess not.”

It occurred to Ludmila that she did not know what the Sorcerer King looked like either. Neither did Clara, as far as she knew.

“If not for the annual skirmish with the Empire,” Ludmila said, “I don’t think King Rampossa would have visited E-Rantel either. It’s only been two months, and this duchy has always been distant from its ruler. Given how powerful the Sorcerous Kingdom is, E-Rantel must amount to an outpost of some incredible empire beyond this region’s awareness.”

“That’s probably why we don’t feel that anything is out of place,” Liane said, “but it would still mean a lot to us if we had some personal reassurances from our liege.”

“According to Lady Shalltear,” Ludmila said, “His Majesty has not even been in the duchy for the past three weeks. So rather than avoiding his vassals on purpose...perhaps he’s just that busy?”

“Well, he did bring the Empire to heel before anyone even noticed his absence,” Florine said. “Then there’s the Dragons that recently appeared. No one could claim that His Majesty has simply been evading his duties in favour of lazing about or chasing after some self-indulgent whim. Maybe it’s just us – everything’s been so unexpected and sudden and we’re not used to our titles yet. Though…despite all that’s happened, we still often wish there was someone we could look to for guidance.”

Florine had a point. While Ludmila did not harbour those feelings much any more, she would have if she was younger. It was something that she would need to speak to Clara about. With everyone acting as the heads of their respective Houses, it was easy to forget that Liane and Florine were still at a point in their lives where they would still normally depend on their parents and mentors. While she often hounded her own siblings and even her father about administrative matters, Ludmila was still the youngest in her family. Clara was the youngest in her family as well, so neither she nor Ludmila had considered the idea that Florine and Liane were essentially their younger sisters in this little social circle and might depend on them as such.

“Ara,” said a voice from behind them, “you can depend on us a bit, you know.”

Clara appeared with her lady’s maid, who was carrying breakfast along for her mistress. They had clearly taken the time to prepare for the day: Clara’s lustrous blonde hair shimmered in the late morning sun, and she was adorned tastefully with silks dyed and embroidered in House Corelyn’s cobalt-and-silver. The clingy sleeper in her rumpled nightwear had transformed into a beautiful young noblewoman adorned for a garden stroll, her amethyst eyes bright with charismatic allure.

As Clara seated herself beside her, Ludmila could not help but wonder about how they appeared next to one another. She had thrown on a plain outfit and roughly brushed out her hair before escaping their carriage and had meandered over to the pavilion after very little in the way of her own preparations.

“Good morning, Countess Corelyn,” the two girls greeted Clara simultaneously, lowering their heads slightly.

Ludmila looked down and stabbed the last piece of breakfast sausage with her fork.

“Good morning,” Clara replied with a beatific smile. “You’ve rested well, I hope.”

“Oh yes,” Florine replied. “I don’t think I’ve slept this soundly for weeks. Quite strange, considering the circumstances.”

“House Wagner’s carriages are remarkably luxurious,” Clara said, “so it’s no surprise. I certainly plan on hiring her services for any sort of extended trip after experiencing them myself.”

Liane tried to maintain a straight face, but the corners of her mouth kept turning up at the praise.

“Anyways…” Ludmila said, “we have a lot to examine before deciding how to lay out our strategy for House Fassett. Did you have any thoughts based on the discussions with Campbell and Jacqueline yesterday?”

“Well,” Clara said, “I cannot say we didn’t expect this sort of initial reception. Both are adamant in their positions – they are truly siblings in how they carry themselves, which is unfortunate. I was really hoping to find a way to reach out to at least one of them despite knowing what we were going into. The feeling they give off as well…needless to say, it’s a challenge to be cordial in the face of such dispositions, but I’ll do my best to be diplomatic when I interact with them.”

“What we came up with over the course of yesterday still comes down to twisting their arms until they give in, though,” Ludmila said.

“The only apparent options seem to involve doing just that, yes.” Clara replied, “It’s not an elegant solution, but it might be the only thing we can do to convince them to relent. Let’s not give up just yet, though – we’ve only just begun our work.”

Birthright: Act 5, Chapter 7

Chapter 7

After Clara finished her breakfast, the four noblewomen moved under the main pavilion, where Lluluvien’s findings had collected overnight. As they pored over the information, Wiluvien would periodically appear to add another folder to the table. At this point, the initial reports of the town had been fully completed and the Shadow Demons were now being sent to inspect the baronial manors, followed by the multitude of villages and hamlets laid throughout the county.

Ludmila was uncertain how long the rural investigation would take: the duchy’s primary industries revolved around agriculture and forestry, with the capital also being a major hub of trade. Though its industries seemed meagre compared to other inland territories, Fassett County still followed these same basic principles. As cities serviced duchies, towns serviced counties. Regardless of where one went in Re-Estize, roughly one in twenty lived in urban centres: meaning that Fassett Town, with its population of 2,000, serviced a county population of 40,000.

It was unknown how many of those people had escaped to Re-Estize as a result of the annexation by the Sorcerous Kingdom but, even if half had fled over the border, as the gathered claims seemed to imply, they were still looking at a population of 20,000 to survey. Realistically speaking, they could only rely on the information gained from manors and the homes of local administrators stationed throughout the territory; there was not enough time for a thorough sweep.

What they had collected, unfortunately, confirmed their feelings from the previous day. Worse yet, it was only what had been allowed to bubble to the surface of the mire they were now sorting through. There was a sniff across the table from her, and Ludmila looked up when a folder landed on the table and slid halfway across its surface. Florine was seated in her chair, hands covering her face.

“How could they do any of this?” She said between sobs, “Do they feel any guilt at all? This is all just selfish and cruel!”

Liane frowned down at the folder and reached out to pick it up, leafing through the contents.

“Looks about the same as the one I’m working on,” she said. “Gotta say, I set the bar low going into this, but this is stupid beyond belief. It’s like eating your own leg because you’re hungry. They put so much effort into managing this mess that they could just do something normal instead and do far better.”

Ludmila looked down at her own documents. They had divided the work between themselves: Fassett County contained six baronies, so they had each assigned themselves to one for the time being. The town was an ongoing investigation, and the remainder would be left until the end. What she saw already, however, was enough to make her wish she hadn’t eaten such a large breakfast.

Though much of what she read outlined strictly illegal activities, even legal ones were handled in such an absurd way that they may as well have been crimes. Slavery, narcotics, all manner of extortion and protection rackets that utilized local mercenary groups. Taxes and rent were so absurd and arbitrary that the tenants turned to crime to survive. Even the laws themselves were twisted in every way possible to the advantage of the local authorities.

House Fassett had even turned the collection of fines, penalties and contraband from illegal activities into an industry of its own. Rather than being severe enough to deter criminals, they were lenient to the extent that it just became another sort of tax.

Reading through the reports was like being presented with a dark reflection of what should be. A significant portion of the county’s economy was being fed by illegitimate industries and, as Ludmila sought to develop advanced industries in Warden’s Vale by establishing a framework of basic industries, House Fassett had created advanced industries out of a framework of basic illegal ones.

Ludmila looked across the table again.

“Liane,” she said, “it’s clear what’s happening here, but how does one even begin to tread this path? Adopting these practices that inevitably become this spiral of decay.”

“Could be any number of reasons,” Liane replied. “The vast majority of these records only go back a few seasons – they probably just burn what they don’t need any more since it’s an unneeded risk to keep around. It’s usually not as simple as waking up one day and deciding it’s a good idea to ruin your own fief. Hm…”

Liane looked to the centre of the table, where a map of the county was laid out. She took a sip from her glass and continued frowning down at it. After a few minutes, she set down her drink and pointed to the map.

“This duchy has been the demesne of House Vaiself ever since Re-Estize has been Re-Estize,” she said. “The nobles along the highways are either cadet branches from the interior or merchant stock like the three of us here. If I were to make up a believable story about how things happened, I would say that Fassett is a cadet branch that came to claim the lands here rather than a merchant house.”

Liane’s finger traced over the features of the map beyond the highway, where the primeval forests over the rugged hills met the developed lands along the roads.

“You can see here the extent of where they’ve grown in the past, so at some point they did make earnest efforts to cultivate their lands. I would guess that they underestimated how hard it is to tame this sort of terrain: most of Re-Estize’s heartlands are fertile plains and forested parklands. What was invested into them wasn’t enough, and they couldn’t find anyone that thought it was worth the cost…so they turned to illegal activities for the revenues to finance development. Could have been some outsider making some attractive offer, or they could have done it themselves.”

“So they did this for the short term gains,” Ludmila said, “in order to continue what they started. Why didn’t they stop when they had what they needed?”

“Because you can’t just stop,” Liane replied, “and with one thing comes others. Illegal practices and contraband goods are outlawed precisely because the authorities decide that they are harmful and unproductive in the long term. You’re always sacrificing something when doing it, and it’s only ‘profitable’ when someone else is doing the sacrificing for you. You’re also opening avenues for illegal activity from elsewhere to seep in simply by doing business with them – those types don’t just go away when asked.”

“Enforcing justice is a noble’s duty,” Ludmila frowned. “Nothing stops the lord from doing so.”

“Ah…well, I guess that’d be easy for a Frontier Noble to say,” Liane replied, “but most nobles don’t come from militant traditions like you have. Once a group like that becomes entrenched, militia just won’t cut it. Just like people can become strong by adventuring or protecting the borders, these criminal groups have those that become ridiculously strong by doing what they do. Imagine a couple of Mithril or even Orichalcum-ranked Adventurers becoming criminals in someone’s territory: you’ll lose hundreds of men just trying to oust them. They can just keep you quiet with threats and, if you still don’t behave, they’ll just kill you and your heirs until they find one that will.

“Which brings me to another point: you don’t even have to allow crime to flourish in your territory: if some powerful syndicate decides that your place is ideal to set up shop, they’ll just do it with or without your permission. The vast majority of nobles can’t do anything about that, no matter how upright they are: it’s something that requires Adamantite-rank Adventurers to deal with, or someone with equivalent power. These groups will focus on a few fiefs at a time, until they’ve become too weak to offer any further resistance, before moving onto new ones. That way, a whole bunch of nobles don’t just pool their resources to hire someone strong enough to exterminate them.”

“So you’re saying that this might not even be their fault?” Ludmila asked.

“Well, it’s just a story formed out of what I know about this sort of thing happening elsewhere,” Liane answered. “We’d have to dig really deep to find out how it actually started, but we don’t have to dig much to see if they’re being forced into unlawful activities. Considering what we’ve seen so far, though, I wouldn’t bet on it.”

Florine returned to stand beside Liane, and Ludmila looked around the table.

“Anyone else have any idea about this?” She sighed, “Not that it matters if everyone in this ridiculous place is willingly doing it, I suppose.”

“I don't know how it started,” Clara replied, “nor did I hear anything about it from my father, but I can see how it can easily stay this way. I can especially see this looming crisis that they have over their heads due to their demesne incomes being substantially…subsidized by this illicit activity.”

Clara pulled several partially-filled parchments from around the table together in front of her.

“From what I’ve put together so far, out of the efforts that the Linum sisters have coordinated, it could be said that Fassett County has four primary sources of income. Believe it or not, the majority is from legitimate exports. Due to its proximity to the duchy border, however, most of their trade flowed west towards the larger markets of Re-Estize’s heartlands rather than east towards E-Rantel where they would need to compete directly with the much closer local territories over a smaller market. The county industries do not produce anything that is worth trading over vast distances, so there is no profit in directing their goods to the east beyond the regional markets.”

Clara picked up one of the sheets and held it up between her fingers: it was a compiled record of House Fassett’s incomes after E-Rantel’s annexation by the Sorcerous Kingdom.

“Regular trade with Re-Estize has been reduced to less than a trickle, but the new development in E-Rantel and the territories hungry for timber, charcoal and stone have compensated for this shortfall. To anyone outside of this county, it has the effect of making House Fassett appear to be just another normal territory – one of many contributing to the growth of the capital.

“This demand for materials will only last as long as the building continues, however,” she set the parchment back down. “Once things settle into a more normal pace, Fassett County’s exports will shrivel up into a fraction of what it was before the annexation.”

“Meaning that they will lean harder into everything else they have been doing,” Liane concluded.

“What else do they have?” Florine asked, “It can’t be that they’ve been doomed one way or the other due to the annexation.”

“Trade is the second part of Fassett County's legitimate incomes, but without Re-Estize, this territory goes from straddling a major artery of trade to effectively being the end of the road – the furthest point from our trading partners to the east through the Empire. Another of House Fassett's major incomes have always involved servicing trade, so one could say that yes, the annexation could be considered the main factor.

I will be perfectly honest and say the direct cause of their economic woes has little to do with their criminal connections and everything to do with the drastic shift in trade flows. What the illicit activity has done is hamstring their development over generations: if House Fassett had properly developed their holdings rather than bleed their population dry with these other exploitative and short-sighted practices, they should have been robust enough to cushion the blow. All of the western territories are in the same situation, but all aside from Fassett County have been able to weather the changes so far.”

“So this leaves House Fassett with a major crisis,” Liane concluded, “and they are trying to finance their succession dispute with the short term incomes from recent exports rather than set their differences aside to ensure there is even a demesne left standing after the dust has settled. Like I said – stupid beyond belief. They would rather rule over rubble than cooperate and turn their lands around.

“It’s ironic,” Clara said. “Count Völkchenheim’s offer is actually the true solution: allowing them the time to adopt our new systems and break out of the ever-shrinking cage that they’ve fashioned for themselves. We can’t even offer it to them because it’s clear that they also need to answer for their crimes, which they will never admit knowledge of. The sanctions that the House of Lords are resorting to in order to force them back into line would only severely damage House Fassett if they were actually practicing legitimate business, while other nations are perfectly willing to take what is basically left of what they have to offer.”

“That was the main problem with Princess Renner's legislation against slavery,” Liane sighed. “I suppose the problem wouldn’t just go away being in the Sorcerous Kingdom.”

“There was a problem with the outlawing of slavery?” Ludmila asked.

“Yes,” Liane said, “a huge problem. At far as her ideas went, it was probably one of her worst – yet somehow it was the biggest one that was passed into law. At face value it may have won her the favour of the people and a handful of empty-headed lords, but in reality it was extraordinarily narrow minded.”

“You support slavery?” Clara asked with a worried look.

“I abhor it,” Liane replied, “but my personal feelings mean little in the grand scheme of things. The fact of the matter is that slavery is legal nearly everywhere else, and Re-Estize never had the means to enforce this law in the first place. The only effect it really had was to drive up the price of slaves abroad and make exporting them out of Re-Estize far more profitable. Those that keep slaves in the country still have them under various guises, so in reality not much changes beyond giving criminal organizations an effective monopoly on slave exports. They were already experts at evading and circumventing the law, so it’s like they’re being rewarded for their investments in those areas.”

“The low cost of Undead labour would make exporting slaves instead of transitioning them to advanced industries an attractive prospect to any unscrupulous lord seeking short term profits like this,” Clara frowned after she finished speaking, as if belatedly realizing what she had come up with.

“After watching those Shadow Demons cover so much ground this morning,” Liane said, “I have a fair idea of how quickly they can investigate things. If they’re being effectively coordinated by authorities upholding proper justice, then anyone that runs afoul of the Sorcerous Kingdom’s laws will find themselves facing an Undead enforcer.”

Liane looked down at the map with a conflicted expression on her face.

“I’m still having trouble accepting this,” she said.

“Accepting what?” Ludmila looked up from the documents on the table.

Liane’s gaze met her own, but her icy stare wavered. She looked back down at the table and took a deep breath.

“This authority you have been granted sidesteps traditional due process and a lord’s right to exercise justice in their own demesne,” she said. “I can’t deny how expedient it is given the right circumstances but, at the same time, it’s not power that a regular person should wield. You seem to be every bit as austere as what I’ve seen of you so far suggests, but what about others? Surely you won’t be the only one of these...agents? Auditors? Harriers? If we accomplish what we’ve set out to achieve here, the Royal Court may decide to employ additional agents to deal with the workings of the nation that His Majesty’s servants are unable to.”

“From what I’ve seen of her, Lady Shalltear is a noble of the highest calibre," Clara said. "I may sound like a Bard when saying so, but some may consider her a noble of legendary acclaim. Perhaps she sensed that Ludmila was suited for this duty before bestowing it upon her.”

An uncertain silence fell over the table. Tales of legendary heroes were plentiful: their spectacular feats of might and magic were the staple of many a tale spun by poets and minstrels; enjoyed by all walks of life. The continued presence of such individuals in the present solidified the notions surrounding their existence.

Nobles, on the other hand, occupied a more mundane place in folklore. Depending on the audience, they could be the subject of a romantic story, little more than a name that sent heroes on daring quests, or abhorrent villains that opposed a righteous cause. Indeed, in many a common tale, nobles were more likely to be objects of derision and scorn to be vilified rather than any sort of realistic portrayal of reality. In the legends of old, important noble figures existed as well, but attributing the idea of them as heroes generally only happened if their feats were recognizable to the general audience. The Runesmith King of the Thirteen Heroes was of these rare examples…but what was sung of him had nothing to do with his qualities as a leader or administrator.

The stories of nobles generally boiled down into a handful of points which did not speak much of how they were accomplished. As often as a meagre administrator was lauded as a genius for reigning in a time of peace and prosperity, adept administrators that ensured the survival of their people through great adversity could be derided as a fool for achieving little by the same measure. Only the end results tended to be remembered in the songs and annals of history.

For all that they did, it seemed only nobles and scholars could discern the quality of those that came before them. Faithful portrayals of history were for the history books and not for entertainment, and even those did not record the minutiae that revolved around their administrative office. Only by laying out the events and circumstances that accompanied the results of each figure’s rule could one even begin to draw rough conclusions on whether they were to be acclaimed or derided.

The one man they knew of in their time that might actually qualify as such – Emperor Jircniv Rune Farlord El Nix – would undoubtedly only be commonly remembered centuries from now by his grim epitaph, and as the man who subjected his own Empire to a foreign power shortly after consolidating his own rule. Perhaps, if the Sorcerous Kingdom had never risen to power, Emperor Jircniv would have carved his name out in the annals of history and built a legend of his own. As things stood, however, even as his contemporaries they knew very little of what he was truly capable of: only a handful of the outcomes resulting from his reign.

“This discussion is a bit preemptive,” Ludmila said. “Liane has perfectly valid concerns, but at the same time it’s not an appointment we have any influence over. This is an official duty, so those burdened with it should act accordingly. In the end, the Royal Court will evaluate the results and whether it is an office to be expanded upon. I would hardly think that there would be absolutely no oversight, given the orderly nature of the Sorcerous Kingdom.”

“She’s right Liane,” Florine said from beside her. “We’re already up to our necks in work here, but you keep finding more things to worry about that we have no control over…that’s always been a bad habit of yours.”

“Yes, let’s focus on what we have in front of us now,” Clara agreed. “I, for one, still cannot even begin to imagine how to break this standoff between the Fassetts in any way aside from force.”

“Then perhaps we should just use force,” Ludmila said. “If exercised correctly, the right set of actions could dislodge them from their stubborn positions more than any amount of reasoning.”

An uneasy silence settled over the pavilion at her words. Ludmila cleared her throat and attempted to explain her rationale.

“There must be some basis for this bravado of theirs,” she said. “Something that gives them their confidence – that provides them with the feeling that they are untouchable.”

“Wouldn’t that be the law itself?” Florine said, “This has been the state of affairs for generations. They are nobles, and the law is in their hands to exercise as they see fit. Other laws prevent other nobles from interfering…so that should be the basis of this belief in their own infallibility, yes?”

“I do not think for one moment that those who would so readily twist the letter of law so far that it bends in on itself would put their faith in the law as an absolute defence,” Ludmila said. “It cannot simply be bravado, can it? There must be some fallback that they would rely on in the event that someone does not care for their behaviour or the law.”

“If you seek a way to undermine their confidence,” Clara said, “then what about weakening their ability to pursue this succession dispute? If they are driven to desperation, they will almost certainly turn to whatever other cards they have left to play. Just keep in mind that we can’t have a repeat of last year’s attempt at removing a giant nest of hornets with a fire arrow.”

Liane and Florine looked up from their work to stare at Ludmila curiously.

“That ‘attempt’ was decisively successful,” Ludmila stated.

“You ‘decisively’ burned down an entire copse of trees as well,” Clara shot back. “You won’t be able to replace the town like you did the lost timber.”

“It’s not as if the whole town will burn to the ground if I–”

Ludmila left her words hanging, and Liane and Florine’s faces turned ashen. Several figures entered the pavilion.

“My ladies,” Wiluvien lowered her head respectfully, “I have brought Liam with me. Saye has come as well.”

Birthright: Act 5, Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Liam opened his eyes to a dreamlike world.

Staring up through streams of sunlight filtering through curtains of intricate lace, his gaze ran over the pastel patterns on the polished ceiling above. The fabric of his covers slid across his skin with a sensation he had never felt before as he shifted slightly to look around. Soft sounds of breathing turned his head, and he discovered his sister sleeping soundly beside him.

They were...inside? The richly-decorated surroundings and expensive-looking fabrics laid about him were a stark contrast to the muddy alley he last remembered seeing. No, something else had happened.

There was a demon, and a slow journey through the darkness – a memory veiled by a haze of fatigue and agony. The recollection most clear to him was the struggle in the alley, the pain in his side and how it slowly became harder and harder to breathe…

He was dead, then. The past few months had been one long struggle to survive; he had never considered what would come after. He never wasted his time listening to the priests, but he imagined the torturous journey through the darkness must have been to reach the other side of whatever lay between life and death.

Liam lifted the covers to check his side and found only unmarred skin where there was almost certainly a terrible injury before. Saye stirred at the disturbance and her heavy lashes fluttered open. Why was his sister here anyways? The question made his heart sink. If he was dead, then she must have died as well.

“Liam?” Her voice murmured drowsily.

Saye uncurled and stretched herself; then stopped abruptly. She sat up and turned towards him, hands hovering worriedly in his direction. He had seen this somewhere before.

“Are you okay? Does it hurt anywhere? Are you hungry? I’ll ask for some food.”

The mention of food in the flood of questions made his stomach growl. Did dead people get hungry? Maybe he became a Zombie.

“Saye,” he said after an alarming detail caught his attention, “wait. Who are you asking for food? Where are we?”

“This is a Noble’s carriage, I think,” his sister replied. “They said they would have food for you when you woke up.”

A Noble. Freely offered food.

“Those men – there was blood. How am I better again?”

“They said that you were hurt bad,” Saye said, “so they used a healing potion.”

Liam felt panic rising in his chest. It was definitely a trap. Healing potions were very expensive: at least five gold for even the cheapest ones…or was it more now? Unless…

He checked his side again, pressing around his ribs to see if anything felt wrong. It wasn’t a cheap illusion, and he hadn’t been given something to numb the pain. Neither did he think his injury so light that a herbal remedy was able to work on him; those took much longer to act. A real potion had been used on him: the kind that Adventurers used. Looking at his sister’s worried expression, his mind worked to find a way out of their situation…but he could think of nothing.

Adults played dirty, and nobles were the dirtiest of them all. They had rules for everyone, and decided who the rules counted for. He had seen many seedy people work on their behalf, and many helplessly fall to their tricks. If they couldn’t get what they wanted from an unknowing victim, then they used force. If force was not an option, then they used greed. If greed did not work…

Saye wasn’t stupid or greedy. They must have used his injury against her, to force her to go along quietly. Now that they had tended to him, they would demand repayment. Liam could no more come up with five gold coins than he could have won against a dozen of those big men in the alley. There was food as well – maybe Saye had simply given up and decided to take it along with the poison that was the debt that would now be claimed against them.

Despite his worry, his stomach rumbled again at the passing thought of a meal. Saye crawled over to the door, stopping to straighten her clothing: clean, fine clothing far removed from the barely serviceable rags of the night before.

“I’m going to go ask,” she said as she pulled the polished latch of the door. “They left clothes here for you as well.”

Saye stepped out and shut the door behind her.

Clothes. The troubles in his mind mounted as he reached out for the neatly folded articles nearby. The size of their debt continued to grow as he unfolded a fresh white linen shirt. Sturdy brown broadcloth pants along with a tooled leather belt lay beneath it. There were woolen stockings as well. Liam wanted to run away, but nobles had men and horses and hounds. He recalled the piercing gaze of the noble attendant that had instantly detected him even when he hid in the dark the night: there was no way they could escape from such terrifying people.

He pulled the shirt down over his head and the door opened again; Saye had reappeared with a uniformed woman at her back. His sister crawled back in and received a shiny covered tray from the woman, who then withdrew quietly and closed the door lightly behind her. Saye placed the tray in front of him and lifted the cover. He swallowed as the aroma of the meal drifted up to wash over him. Fresh bread and crisp bacon. Sliced fruits and vegetables. A bowl of clear soup.

He lifted a gleaming fork before his unbelieving eyes. It was silver. The tray and it’s cover were as well. Just how much wealth was placed in front of him? Though he marveled over it all, it confirmed his sister’s words: these people must be nobles – who else could be so rich?

Liam frowned as he absently picked up a roll – not just a piece, but a whole roll – of bread and split it in half. Its buttery scent filled his nose as the fluffy white insides seemed to spring out to entice him to partake of his meal. He held out one half of the roll to Saye but, to his surprise, she shook her head.

“I already had mine,” she did not meet his eyes. “They said there would be some for you too.”

Liam lowered his hand.

“I’m not mad,” he said.

He nibbled on the bread, torn between eating the food and trying to avoid even more trouble, but his hunger inevitably won out.

“Who are they?” Liam asked after finishing the first full meal he had eaten since the autumn festival.

“I don’t know.” Saye said, “They have a lot of servants, armed men and maids. They aren’t from here.”

Liam recalled the Nobles that had visited with Countess Fassett. These must be them, then. He did not know much about nobles from the east, only that they were far more wealthy and powerful than the ones here: meaning they were far more dangerous. The monster that had killed those men in the alley was proof of this.

They had fallen into the clutches of some bad people. His troubled thoughts followed him as they left the carriage.

Liam laced the boots that were awaiting him outside on the steps. The soles did not fit him, but it was far better than walking around barefoot. Though the hazy trek through the night felt like it had stretched on forever, he was still surprised to find them so far from the town. Stepping out onto the grass, he turned to look at the ornate carriage that he had awoken in. There were a row of them – the same ones he had seen the previous evening – one had the two sigils on placards fixed to the side.

A half dozen of the same sort of uniformed women went back and forth, carrying laundry and dishes and working in various parts of the camp. The realization that it was a camp Liam understood as odd in itself. A few armed men stood as sentries along the perimeter, while others slowly patrolled back and forth over the area. There were any number of fine inns that they could have stayed at in the town, why would they choose to stay outside?

“You’re up and about, then,” a voice came from behind him, and he jumped.

He spun and backed away in a panic. A pretty Elf with shoulder length green hair smiled down at him, covering her mouth with one hand. Her grey eyes sparkled in amusement at his reaction.

“Good morning, Liam,” she said. “How are you feeling?”

He looked up at her, his mouth working soundlessly. The Elf’s smile did not fade.

“I am Wiluvien,” she pressed her hand to her breast. “Your sister shared with us what happened last night. That was very brave of you.”

The warmth in her voice made him raise his guard even further. Looking over her attire, Liam saw the same black-and-white uniform fitting neatly over the Elf’s slender figure. These women were probably maids. The man from the previous evening had been right about his assumption that there were no noble Elves.

“What…what do you want?” He asked carefully.

“Well,” her smile did not fade, “if you are well enough, Camilla will see you now.”

Camilla will see you now.

The cold voice echoed from his memory, sending a shudder up his spine. Looking around, he found Saye standing nearby and took her hand in his. The Elf maid’s gaze passed over them and her smile turned up even further as she led them through the camp. She smiled far too much. Adults only smiled when they wanted something from you, or after they hit you.

One side of the area was lined with wooden barricades with rows of sharpened wooden stakes. The carriages formed a semicircle around another semicircle of large tents, and within was a grey pavilion. The ridge the camp had been set upon offered a wide view of the surroundings, looking out over the town further up the highway. If it wasn’t for the maids working here and there, he would have believed it a camp of mercenaries. Wiluvien led them straight to the pavilion, stopping at the edge near a sentry standing watch over the cliffside.

“My ladies,” she said respectfully, “I have brought Liam with me. Saye has come as well.”

From inside, six women looked towards them. Four were standing around a wooden table while the other two appeared to be maids waiting on them. Of the four, three were dressed in fine clothing, while the last was dressed in a clean, but plain, dress. All of the women inside were young and pretty in their own way – Liam looked back and forth between them wordlessly before he felt a finger jab his side.

“I…” He started, then interrupted himself to bow awkwardly.

Was this how it was done? He wasn’t sure what to do after that so he stayed bent at the waist.

“Uh…is he okay?”

One of the women’s voices came from the table. Liam tried to recall the voices from the previous evening.

“He was just a moment ago, my lady,” Wiluvien said.

“Bring him forward, then,” a different woman said. “I’d like to see as much ground covered as possible today.”

Liam felt a tug on his hand as Saye pulled on him. He straightened himself and, as he came close, he realized they were indeed the same noblewomen that he had seen speaking to Countess Fassett the previous evening. He raised his head and saw that the plainly dressed woman was the same one that had seen him spying on the Fassett estate: Camilla. She was not wearing the same sort of fancy dress as the others, so was she not a noble? Rather than one of them, she gave off the feeling of being much stronger than the others; stronger than even the rough men in the town that had put him down so easily – maybe she was a bodyguard, which would explain much.

Overhead, a magical lamp cast its light brightly enough to banish the shadows even in the corners of the pavilion. Spread in front of him on the smooth, polished tabletop was a map. Several stacks of paper were arranged around it. A few thick books were sitting over a corner of the map as well.

“Do you know what this is?” The plainly-dressed woman asked, seeing his eyes on the table between them.

Liam shook his head. It was a map, he knew, but of what he could not tell. A woman in a blue dress, who was nearly as tall as the plainly-dressed one beside her, pointed a polished nail to the shapes on the map.

“This is Fassett Town,” she said, and then her finger traced a thick line that ran through it. “This is the Royal Highway. These other locations along the way are the villages and hamlets leading towards E-Rantel.”

Her hand made a broad motion over the surface of the table, the golden waves of her hair spilling over her shoulders as she leaned forward to do so.

“This is a map of Fassett County, your home.”

A finger jabbed his side again, and Liam peered down at the details on the map. Across the table, a skinny noblewoman with blue eyes like Saye’s – she looked to be closer to his own age – gave him a measuring look.

“I don’t think he can read,” she said.

Liam felt his face heat up at her statement. She was right: he had no idea what anything on the map said – he couldn’t even read the littlest bit. He could only guess what the shapes and lines meant. They had instantly seen through his attempt to look useful.

“Wiluvien can work with him,” it did not seem to matter to Camilla.

“Work…” Liam started.

The women turned their attention to him.

“To pay for everything. I can work…”

Liam’s voice trailed off. Work on what? He wasn’t sure what they wanted, exactly.

The women exchanged glances with one another before Camilla spoke once again. Her sharp, brown-eyed gaze held his own as she spoke.

“Do you understand the meaning of this work?” She asked him.

Liam felt his back straighten as a chill ran through his body. She spoke in a way unlike anyone he had heard before – certainly nothing like how one would speak down to children. It was not patronizing or coddling, nor cajoling or sickly sweet with the air of false friendliness seeking to disarm him of his wariness. Her words were expressed in a mellow tone, yet at the same time her voice was like a blade: not one that was pointed at him, but one that directed him with expectation. Authority that stirred him to action.

He looked back down at the brightly-lit table: at the map, the papers and the books. Swallowing, looked back up at Camilla.

“You want to know about the town,” he said. “Things that you can use for what you are doing here.”

Camilla’s gaze held his firmly, her lips pressing into a thin line.

“Wiluvien,” she looked to the Elf maid.

“Yes, my lady?”

“Let Lluluvien know that Liam and Saye will be joining you in your efforts.”

The maid bowed in affirmation, placing a hand gently on his shoulder. Before they were led away, the woman spoke once more.

“You may call me Camilla,” she said, looking at each of them in turn. “Liam; Saye: you are under our protection now.”

Birthright: Act 5, Chapter 9

Chapter 9

“I’d have never thought to use that on a child,” Clara said after Liam and Saye were led out of sight.

“I wanted to make sure that he knew what he was getting into,” Ludmila replied. “A part of me was hoping that he didn’t; I cannot rightly consider him a child any longer. He’s well aware of what he’s doing.”

Liane and Florine followed their exchange with blank expressions.

“Er…what did she use again?” Liane said.

Clara looked to Ludmila, and she nodded in return.

“An ability,” Clara explained. “The Voice of Authority. Well, that’s what we’ve ended up calling it – you’ve probably heard of it before in one form or another…maybe you’ve experienced it directly from members of your family?”

Liane furrowed her brow in befuddlement and Florine mouthed the words several times.

“Th-that’s just a Bard’s embellishment, isn’t it?” Liane said after a moment, “Something for overblown stories and stupid daydreams. At the most it’s when our parents yell really loud and people shut up to listen.”

She laughed nervously at her own words, but the laughter died away when Ludmila and Clara shook their heads.

“It’s a real thing,” Clara replied. “I can do it as well. We don’t know what exactly is required, but once you understand what it is and how to use it, it’s not very hard at all.”

“Does that mean Florine and I will be able to do it too?” Liane asked.

“Probably,” Ludmila answered. “At least, at some point you should be able to. It took an afternoon to help Clara figure it out, though – and she thought I had gone crazy half the time. When we’re not so busy, I’m sure we can teach the both of you as well. What’s more important to realize is that the Undead labour and powerful armies are not the only thing that has come with the Sorcerous Kingdom.”

“I never said I thought you were crazy…” Clara frowned.

“Uh huh,” Ludmila replied in a flat voice.

“What do you mean by that?” Florine said. “What’s come with the Sorcerous Kingdom, I mean – not the going crazy thing.”

“What will have the greatest impact on our lives is knowledge and the perspective it brings,” Ludmila replied. “The Sorcerous Kingdom brings with it both a mountain of knowledge and the perspective granted by such a vantage. Even at a fundamental level, His Majesty and his servants see many things in a way that is entirely foreign to how we view the world around us. If you’ve started working with the Administrative Liches, you might have already noticed hints of that. Their ways will slowly change our own and, as we become more like them, we will become just as foreign to the rest of the world as His Majesty’s servants currently are to us.”

“Ludmila is descended from Adventurers,” Clara said, “so when she started talking more like one, I didn’t think much of it. But after the time that we spent together figuring out this ability, I realized that she is starting to use terms and concepts that were entirely unknown to me as well – I had to stop her several times to explain what they meant.”

“This change…is it a good thing, or a bad thing?” Florine asked worriedly.

“What results from this change is understanding,” Ludmila said, “which is neither a good or bad thing in itself. When Clara says that I speak more like an Adventurer, she does not mean that my manner of speech has become more coarse. Even before our time, Adventurers have measured the world in a different manner – in terms of abilities and tiers; special vocations, ranks and ratings. Lady Shalltear structures her perception along many similar lines, but the heights of her understanding extend far beyond that of Adventurers. His Majesty and his servants tower so high above us that I cannot imagine that we would ever reach those same heights of power, but this does not stop us from obtaining useful knowledge and finding ways to apply it to our own lives.”

“Surely they wouldn’t freely distribute too much of this knowledge,” Liane said. “As you say, understanding is neither a good or a bad thing, but it can certainly lead to unwelcome outcomes. Untempered knowledge is entirely out of the question, given that they understand what it would entail.”

“I cannot guess where they would draw that particular line,” Ludmila replied, “but what they already offer is enough to change, well, everything. The unthinkable has become common, and a new world of possibilities is now within reach. The three of you should understand all of its far-reaching implications in a greater scope than I am capable of. When Clara spoke to Jacqueline Fassett, she mentioned the prosperity that the future holds: she was not merely referring to cheap labour and easy lives. The citizens of the Sorcerous Kingdom stand at the forefront of changes that will overshadow the world, and House Fassett is too wrapped up in their petty squabble to see that they are in the process of denying this future to their people.”

“Realizing this future is a part of our duty, now,” Clara said. “Everyone here has seen the administrative materials and resources. They present various concepts to us, but the prescribed applications are nowhere near perfect. We are not one-sidedly receiving everything we need: it requires many people to turn such things into reality – as nobles, we are responsible for leading our people through these times of change.”

Clara turned her attention back to the folders of documents on the table, leaving Liane and Florine to digest what had been said. The others followed suit. Early in the afternoon, Wiluvien appeared with a new folder as they were being served lunch.

“How is Liam faring?” Ludmila asked as Wiluvien placed the folder beside the others on the table.

“He shows no ill effects from his injuries,” her maid replied, “and is fitting in quite well…though I suppose it shouldn’t be a surprise. Children in his circumstances inevitably learn that information has value, and in understanding that value he is able to assist in our efforts here quite handily.”

Wiluvien’s expression did not match her words. Rather than seeming appreciative of his contributions, her lips turned in a small frown.

“Is something the matter?” Ludmila could not help but match her expression.

“He does not trust you, my lady,” Wiluvien said sourly.

“Even from what little I’ve reviewed here so far,” Ludmila said, “trust would not come easily to anyone in this place.”

“You saved his life!” Wiluvien protested, “You gave him a place to rest, clothing to wear, food to eat. My lady has even pledged her protection over his family, but in return he holds only doubt and suspicion.”

“Suspicion? How do you mean?”

“He believes that everything is a ploy,” her maid replied. “That your benevolence is merely a debt incurred to chain him to your whims.”

“If it bothers him, that means he also won’t suddenly disappear on us, doesn’t it?”

“As one who has received my lady’s grace,” Wiluvien fumed, “I cannot suffer to see such ingratitude. My sister is going to hurl him off that cliff if she wakes up to witness this behaviour.”

Ludmila glanced past the opening of the pavilion to the overlook, then back to Wiluvien.

“He may not express his gratitude,” Ludmila smiled slightly, “but it seems that he understands obligation. Trust will come with time. Make sure Lluluvien knows not to do anything rash.”

“Yes, my lady,” Wiluvien’s voice was sullen, but it had lost most of its previous edge.

The Elf chambermaid curtsied to the ladies at the table, then left the pavilion to return to her work.

“Do you really take no issue with using children like this?” Florine asked.

She washed down her lunch with a glass of chilled Kutz juice. A maid came forward to refill the empty cup with more of the tart drink.

“Like what?” Ludmila asked without looking up from her notes.

“It just seems bad for children to be cooperating in this sort of thing,” Florine said. “They should be with their families, or doing something safe…not helping to dig up dirt on their hometown.”

“You heard the other girls from earlier this morning,” Liane said, “all of them are orphans. Being here is safer than some alley where they can simply be stolen away.”

“The Shadow Demons are doing most of the legwork,” Ludmila said. “I have no intention of making the children or any of our household servants go into town to do anything dangerous. They’re just helping fill the blanks in our knowledge with what they know.”

“It still feels twisted.” Florine said, “Everything about this fief is twisted. These kids don’t even question what it is we are asking of them – they already know, and they don’t give a whit either way.”

There was no argument there. Beyond their immediate reactions to being in the demesne of House Fassett, the morning’s work had quite easily discovered a myriad of illicit dealings, and that the townsfolk were willingly complicit in such activities. When they arrived, Ludmila had some hope that it would be a straightforward problem she could somehow deal with, but that had turned out to be wishful thinking.

She set down the notes and expelled a frustrated breath. Unlike a song or story where the good and the evil were clearly defined to be reviled by an audience, there were no dark figures to expose pulling the strings from the shadows, nor were there any long stretches of history where the territory’s population was unwillingly pressed into their actions. All that could be said was that House Fassett was remiss of its duties and had allowed its demesne to fall into the long and steady spiral of decline, creating dependencies that revolved around short term gains and opening doors which should have never touched in the first place.

Generations of exposure to House Fassett’s administration and its results had affected the behaviour of the people as well. Ideas of law and order and the perception of the world around them had adapted to allow the population to survive their reality. It was their normal, and Ludmila suspected that even if she came upon a footpad standing over their latest victim, their response would not be one of guilt or shame – it was more likely that the criminal would simply ask her what the fine was so they could get on with their lives. As people were a product of their experiences and environment, so too had an entire culture grown in Fassett County to match.

The solution was beyond removing the leadership, or dealing with a handful of undesirable elements. There was no ‘good’ or ‘evil’ in such simplistic definition – there was only the reality that rose as a consequence of all that had happened. The people themselves had become the undesirable element within the greater context of the Sorcerous Kingdom, and she could see no easy way to turn them from the mire they had been steeped in for their entire lives. No quick and convenient magic or medicine existed that could heal multiple generations buried in social decay.

In the shade of the pavilion, the atmosphere grew darker with each passing hour as the sun shone blithely overhead. Wiluvien would occasionally appear to add to their pile of findings and see if there was anything specific they wanted to look into but, for the most part, the four noblewomen worked on in silence, compiling reports on the tasks they had divided between themselves.

With twilight approaching, one of Liane’s maids appeared.

“My ladies,” she said after paying her respects, “dinner is being laid out presently.”

“We’ll come out later,” Clara answered absently as she continued to work. “The rest of you may go ahead.”

Despite her focus, it took all of five minutes to tempt them out with the aroma of hot food and the idea of refreshment after the long afternoon of dismal toil. Seated outside of the pavilion around the table again, Florine broke the silence as they recovered in the cool evening breeze.

“Is it just me,” she asked as she stared absently at the town, “or does this place just seem to get even worse the more we sift through everything?”

Liane only answered with a languid groan as she slouched over the back of her chair. She seemed so fed up that she didn’t even care about her slovenly posture in plain view.

“There must be some way to salvage this,” Clara was adamant. “The first barony is actually perfectly fine.”

“Yes, and the next four are absolutely terrible,” Liane grumbled. “I can only imagine how bad the former Völkchenheim Barony is, given that that rat Campbell made his nest there.”

“I would like to see this baroness in the northeast,” Ludmila said. “She could have tipped the scales of this dispute either way, but she chose to remain neutral. Perhaps she might have a solution, her family having survived being under the Fassetts for so long.”

“I think their solution was simply keeping to themselves,” Liane countered. “Aside from meeting their explicit obligations, all of their practical ties are linked to Crosston to the south, which isn’t part of Fassett County. The barony itself is a relatively quiet and remote part of the duchy – even the Great Forest of Tob nearby doesn’t give them any problems for whatever reason.”

“We’re lucky that I drew the file for that barony,” Clara smirked. “If Ludmila had ended up with it she would have stared at it for hours trying to puzzle that particular detail out. We’re all like that when it comes to aspects to our respective fiefs, but this one is probably particularly frustrating for her.”

That was another reason why Ludmila had wanted to visit. It, too, was a frontier territory, but the records they had recovered indicated that no apparent efforts or expenditures had been made to defend against the primal forest to the north. She was curious how they could have managed such a thing – no, rather than being a curiosity, it was such an anomaly that she had to make an active effort to not think about how they had gotten away with it.

“I’ll find out one of these days,” Ludmila said. “For the time being, I don’t think we need to delay our initial preparations for dealing with the situation here, given what we’ve sifted through already.”

Birthright: Act 5, Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Several maids arrived, delivering trays containing the last of the pre-prepared meals from the city. The chef in their entourage would reuse the magical items that stored them to prepare new courses for the next few days of their stay with supplies purchased from Crosston. The food situation in Fassett Town was so aggravated that prices had inflated to several times the market value of the next town along the highway. As it was due to supplies being purposely withheld by those in power rather than any true shortage, merchants were either intercepted and bought out by agents of each faction or turned away outright.

After the maids arranged their meal and left to attend to other duties, Clara picked up their discussion.

“I’m not hopeful that there’s any chance for House Fassett and most of their collaborators,” she said. “What I’m worried about now is where we draw the line between someone who skirts the law to survive and one that actively undermines order for purely selfish reasons.”

“Is there a difference?” Liane said, “Everyone that participates undermines order, and survival is an inherently selfish reason. Even the farmers and woodsmen far out on the edges of the developed lands dirty their hands here, becoming thugs, selling out their own and bringing harm to their fellows. They may claim that they do it to survive, but in doing so they deny the same to others. That is the way things are here, as far as I can see. There is none of the surplus and growth that you see from properly managed fiefs – only the ever-diminishing scraps that the people fight over as the Fassetts and their goons bleed out their demesne to no good end.”

“Even these children that we’ve picked up?” Florine asked, “They’re the same: just lucky enough to be picked up by us to assist in our investigation here. It’s rather unfa–”

The head of House Gagnier cut herself off and scowled at the ground.

Unfair.

Though the word was cut off, it still echoed in their minds. No one present believed that life was absolutely fair – it would be shamelessly hypocritical for a scion of a noble house to even suggest such a thing. They were born to authority, wealth and countless other advantages garnered through generations of planning and effort by others. In the end, all that they could hope for was that everything that went into their rule would lead to success, and that this success would benefit their subjects in some meaningful way. As much as one might have wanted to create some perfectly fair world, it was unrealistic at best and destructive at worst.

“These children, as you say,” Liane answered, “are lucky. Unless they’re caught doing something that they shouldn’t be, they’ll reap the benefits of that luck. Fortune can be fickle, and disaster may strike even the most fastidious and righteous of people. Perhaps something can be done over much longer spans of time with the population at large, but Fassett County has no such luxury now.”

“I considered redistributing the population,” Clara said, “but it’s both something we cannot immediately afford and we could end up poisoning every other fief with this behaviour instead of rehabilitating the people as we had intended. Liane is correct that we currently do not have the luxury to attempt this, and she is also correct that it is something that can be done with time on a broader level. Last week I spoke with Miss Yuri Alpha, and it seems she is doing just that by starting with a major orphanage in the city. It is beyond just a shelter for children: I would personally like to see branches of this institution spread over my entire demesne. She has a shared interest in doing so, and is willing to cooperate with me to establish another facility in the new harbour town.”

“So it’s not simply a place for orphans,” Florine’s interest was piqued. “What is it, exactly?”

“My interpretation of the concept may be flawed,” Clara replied, “but on a very general level it is the groundwork for a new system of social welfare and education. Beyond the orphanage it’s stated to be, it’s also a type of school, which is not limited to the orphans. Through this institution, children are provided a standard basic education, and those that show promise in various areas are encouraged to contribute to the Sorcerous Kingdom through their talents as working adults. The intent is not simply benevolent: it is also progressively beneficial for the long term as more and more of the population is educated and trained.”

“That sounds wonderful,” Florine said. “Should we all be opening our own orphanages as well?”

“For the time being, only the orphanage in the city is being subsidized by the Sorcerous Kingdom,” Clara answered. “The one being built in the harbour is through my own funds, and it’s more of a school with accommodations for the students rather than an orphanage. The hope is that once the institution starts turning out promising results, Miss Alpha can make a case for its expansion as a nation-wide system. I have no expectation of masses of orphans being a common thing in the future, so the orphanage in the city is sufficient. Schools, on the other hand, will perhaps be appearing across the nation within our generation.”

Ludmila had spoken of knowledge, understanding and how it would change their lives earlier that day, but it seemed that the Sorcerous Kingdom was already far ahead of her thoughts and well underway in establishing both a means to distribute and regulate it for the benefit of the nation. Once again, the excellence of the upper echelon of the administration had definitively proven itself far beyond her meagre grasp of things.

After they had settled their meals, the four noblewomen returned to the task at hand. The magical light continued to burn as brightly as it had throughout the day, the surface of the table had been cleaned up while they were having dinner and fresh glasses of Kutz had been placed on their coasters. Ludmila reached out and pulled a new set of documents to herself.

“Ah–” Liane pointed at the surface of the table near Ludmila, “could you push that thingy back over to the middle?”

Ludmila’s gaze traced a line to where she was pointing: there was a polished crystal disk framed in bronze that had been dragged along with the file she had pulled away. She lifted it up and placed it back in the centre of the table.

“What is it?” Ludmila asked.

“It’s a magic item that repels vermin,” Liane replied. “When activated, it creates a field slightly larger than this pavilion, so we want it right in the middle or things come crawling in and get stuck.”

“I see.”

Ludmila had assumed that it was a paperweight, seeing it on the corner of the file. She now understood why wasps and flies weren’t being drawn to the Kutz juice, insects weren’t swarming the magical light and nothing had crawled up her skirts for the entire day in the pavilion.

“House Wagner employs quite a lot of magical items,” she remarked.

“One of the advantages to having so many merchant companies,” Liane grinned. “We get to see what is being sold in the wide world. Re-Estize is a backwater of a backwater when it comes to magical items for daily life – even the Empire handily outstrips us in this regard, and they used to be a part of Re-Estize. I’m fairly certain a third of the various magical utility items in Re-Estize were introduced by House Wagner and our affiliates deeper within the Kingdom.”

“Aren’t magic items expensive?” Ludmila asked.

“Hmm…I suppose your basis of reference might be the equipment used by Adventurers,” Liane replied. “That sort of equipment is quite expensive, but much of the reason is due to Adventurers themselves creating demand for very specific items, on top of being terrible merchants with no connections. While I wouldn’t exactly say that they are mass-produced, the common items that you see for everyday use are created in sufficient quantities to be competitively priced and generally affordable. If anything, they are often cheaper in the long run than their conventional counterparts.”

Liane pointed to the magical light above them.

“This item is enchanted with a Continual Light spell, and will last forever unless broken. As a source of illumination, it’s better than any torch, lamp or candle: it’s far brighter, has no odor or smoke, and won’t spark accidental fires. Imagine the cost of providing fuel for a similar quality of illumination, and how long it would take until it surpasses the cost of a magical light. It’s easy to see that, after a relatively short span of time, the magic item is cheaper…though I suppose I don’t know the conditions of your Barony, or if this item would survive conditions on the border. I should really pay you a visit one of these days.”

Ludmila thought that she would curl up and die of embarrassment in some lonely corner if Liane saw the markedly backwards state of her demesne. At this point, she would have believed it if someone told her that Baroness Wagner traveled around the world on luxurious flying coaches, while Baroness Zahradnik mucked through the savage wilderness in the darkness with muddy boots and biting insects all around.

“The entire place is being turned upside down, so perhaps when things are not so hectic,” Ludmila said. “That is, if we all survive House Fassett’s folly.”

“Which still seems to depend on how we can pressure them into relenting,” Clara’s expression was flat as she flipped through the pages of the file. “This last report does not make things look any better.”

Ludmila looked down in front of her: Clara had taken the documents while she had been discussing magical items with Liane. Chagrined, she pushed thoughts of her own demesne out of her mind.

“How could we ever get them to agree?” Florine asked, “With just what we’ve collected, House Fassett is done for. For that matter, this is so severe that it will almost certainly cast doubt on the rest of us.”

“I believe it will have to come down to what Ludmila already prescribed,” Clara answered. “We no longer care for what they are willing to agree to: we must force them to come to terms. Just how we will accomplish this is the question now, and what this will gain in our efforts to avert the looming disaster with the Royal Court.”

Clara, Liane and Florine looked to Ludmila.

“My thoughts are still roughly the same,” Ludmila said, looking around the table. “We need to undermine their confidence by removing what they believe is supporting them. House Fassett is not of a militant lineage: they rely entirely on their retainers and hirelings as a way to back up their words with the threat of force. Now that we have information on the relative disposition of their strength, we can figure out just how we can hurt them the most.”

“So, say we accomplish this,” Liane said. “We deal with the various ringleaders working under the Fassetts and, if they’re still not convinced, we take Jacqueline and Campbell into our custody. What then? How will this solve the greater problem?”

“With the leadership gone,” Clara said. “We should be able to employ Count Völkchenheim’s proposal to establish a new foundation for the industries of this territory. The land is underutilized and we may even be able to alleviate some of the labour imbalances in the other territories by encouraging migration here. I’m uncertain what sort of oversight the Royal Court will prescribe to Fassett County but, with everything in place, we’ll be able to begin the long process of returning this land to normal.”

Ludmila’s thoughts on this part had not changed either. It seemed the most productive course, as things could only get better in the county. She hesitated for a moment, as the answer to the outcome in relation to the House of Lords was nebulous at best.

“With the time that we have left,” Ludmila told them, “displacing the leadership and creating a comprehensive report with our recommendations is the most we can do here. Following this, we must make our case to the Royal Court: they will learn the true scope of all of this sooner or later, and it is better for us to come to them than it is for them to come to their own conclusions. What matters when we do is whether we can impress upon His Majesty’s cabinet that what we have done reflects our conviction in upholding His Majesty’s will – that the wholesale restructuring of the law is unnecessary, and the nobility can still be trusted to carry out their duties.”

As expected, it was not a wholly welcome answer. Liane drained her glass and let out a loud sigh, while Clara and Florine had worried looks on their faces.

Ludmila knew that Clara understood, and hoped Florine and Liane did as well. Gone were the days when they watched their parents make critical decisions, and the only thing they needed to worry about was developing proper etiquette and reciting lists of facts and figures. Now leading their own houses, there was no guaranteed solution; no one to tell them if their path would lead them to success. There was only what they understood and how they would act with what was available for them to use, and the results of their actions would come at a point well past any opportunity to change what they had done.

Birthright: Act 5, Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Leather straps creaked as Ludmila tightened a steel bracer snugly over her wrist. She checked over her equipment one last time.

The set consisting of the gambeson – she was still paranoid that carried the scent of smashed cockroaches – and the various steel pieces that she had purchased from Mesmit’s Forge was still not quite broken in, but it was functional where it counted. There were two quivers of arrows fastened to her belt in addition to the dagger and axe she had purchased the same day. Reaching out to pick up her sallet, she placed it over the layer of cloth covering her hair and fastened the chin strap. She lowered her visor, and the helmet closed neatly over her bevor and gorget.

Clara, Liane and Florine stood around her; several others around the camp kept glancing in their direction as well. Ludmila focused on her equipment as she donned it, but she couldn’t help but feel that she was being watched like some rare animal.

“Well,” she lifted her visor again to pull on her gauntlets, “how do I look?”

Clara gave her a once-over, her gaze settling over Ludmila’s torso.

“Like an Adventurer?” She said.

Ludmila’s hand came up to feel the metal tag fastened below her collar. It was her first time wearing it since returning from the strange Adventurer exam just over three days ago. Little did she know that it’s first use would be as part of a disguise.

“That’s what I was trying for,” she said. “I’ll be going on ahead; I’ve assigned one of the Shadow Demons to guard you just in case something goes wrong on your end.”

Clara peered down at her shadow.

“At what point will it act?” She asked, continuing to examine the darkness for the Demon within.

“It will defend you if it recognizes that you are being attacked, and try to eliminate any assailants if doing so doesn’t put you and the others at risk,” Ludmila said. “You can also order it to attack if you feel that conflict is inevitable and want to strike preemptively. Just make sure you get to safety as quickly as possible if fighting breaks out: the Shadow Demon can easily overpower anyone Jacqueline has working for her, but it cannot defend you at all times from all directions. The less it has to focus on keeping you safe, the faster it will remove any threats.”

Her friend nodded in understanding, but her worried expression did not fade.

“Are you going to be okay going into the town on your own?” Clara asked.

“Common thugs aren’t likely to pick a fight with an equipped Adventurer,” Ludmila answered. “Besides, I’m not going on my own: I have the other two other Shadow Demons with me to check around the town to measure the reaction to your audience with Jacqueline Fassett.”

The first move they had decided on was to ‘inform’ Jacqueline Fassett through the course of their audience that an inspector from the Royal Court was due to arrive within the day to perform a thorough audit of the town. By doing so, they hoped that she would make some sort of effort to move her forces out of sight. If it succeeded, they would employ the same ruse against Campbell the next morning, then clean up the separated groups.

Hopefully it would give the siblings a push in the right direction once they realized they had been rendered impotent – if it even worked at all. If not…well, Ludmila supposed it hardly mattered at that point and she would have to drag them out of their manors by force. Doing things as neatly as possible was the goal now, with what time that they had. There were still the days of cleaning up that needed to be done after paralyzing both factions.

The plan amounted to removing the leadership and their major supporters, tying up what loose ends they could, and praying that their work was enough to appease the Royal Court. It was not the best plan by any stretch of the imagination, but it was far better than what could be achieved with the woefully insufficient means that the House of Lords had dispatched them with on the outset of their task.

Ludmila slung her shield over one shoulder and a half-empty satchel over the other. She retrieved her longbow and spear from where they leaned against the carriage, setting out from the encampment towards the town as the other noblewomen prepared to leave in their carriage.

After a light jog, she approached the gate of the town ten minutes later. The militia sentries only took notice of her when she entered the circle of torchlight that extended about 30 metres from the sturdy wooden gatehouse – well, one of them did, at least. He loudly called the others’ attention towards her and the two standing in the wooden towers above readied their bows. The second man on the ground nearly tripped over himself after being startled from his nap.

The first sentry gave her a once over as she approached, while his partner bent forward to recover the spear he had dropped on the ground.

“That’s far enough,” he called out to her. “What are you doing here, Adventurer?”

Ludmila came to a stop on the highway twenty metres from the gate. Despite the poor lighting, he had spotted the small Iron Plate from at beyond that distance. However inept the other sentries were, the first man was neatly making up for their shortfalls. She was an easy target if the two on the wall were practiced archers, and there was more than enough time for the two men on the ground to react if she charged the gate. The manner by which he handled himself and managed risks spoke of his experience as a veteran of the town militia.

“I came from out east,” Ludmila answered.

“From Crosston?” He raised his eyebrows, “That’s quite a trip for a day in that kit, even for an Adventurer.”

“I thought I’d be able to stop in the village south of here,” she explained, “but there’s some sort of commotion going on there.”

“What kind of commotion?” The sentry frowned.

The distant sound of hooves turned her attention away from his question. From the south, the lights of twin carriage lamps approached. Ludmila stepped over to the side of the road as it came up to the gate.

“You’re back,” he spoke up to the driver. “What now?”

“Countess Corelyn and her entourage: to visit Jacqueline Fassett,” the driver declared their purpose in a somewhat flat voice, pointedly ignoring her presence.

The sentry seemed like he wanted to say something, but thought better of it and waved them through. The carriage disappeared around a bend in the road and the man cleared his throat to spit on the ground.

“That driver didn’t even look at me,” Ludmila frowned. “Think he’d have just run me over if I stood there?”

“Probably,” the man grunted. “Some haughty nobles from out east. The Countess probably brought ‘em in to get them to help with this whole mess. They aren’t staying at the manor; not the town either. They set up some sort of camp up on the hill back there – you probably saw it coming in. Up to no good, if you ask me.”

“If not the manor, why not the town?” She asked, “Camping outside doesn’t seem like something nobles would do.”

“Hell if I know,” he shrugged. “Maybe they saw the prices in town. Well, probably not – nobles from around the city are filthy rich. Now: you were saying there was some sort of commotion in the big village down south…”

“Uh…yeah,” Ludmila cleared her throat. “There were some coaches with the new kingdom’s flags. Men in uniforms. Undead soldiers too. The men in Fassett colours around the square looked worried.”

“You hear anything about who came?”

“Just some sort of official,” Ludmila replied. “I didn’t care to find out with all those Undead hanging around. They’ve taken all the work – can’t make a living here anymore.”

“Staying in town, I guess? Roads aren’t safe at night past the border.”

“Can an Adventurer even afford to stay here now? You said something about the prices…”

“Iron could, maybe,” the sentry scratched his jaw. “I wouldn’t hope for more than the common room though. Food’ll probably double the price for the night.”

Despite already knowing about it, Ludmila could not help but grimace. In Fassett County, one could engage in slavery and trafficking of contraband with little but a slap on the wrist upon being caught. Those that went out to hunt and forage to feed their starving families were charged as poachers and thieves, turned into slaves themselves or simply added to the bodies hanging from the gibbet in the town centre.

She stepped forward to pass through the gate, and felt the gaze of the sentries pass over her figure once again.

“Countess is looking for strong fighters to help keep things tight down here,” the first sentry spoke again. “Pays better than what an Iron makes, more reliable too – and you won’t be out risking yourself fighting Demis and monsters.”

Her brow furrowed at his proposition.

“Adventurers don’t interfe–”

“Right, right, I heard it,” he waved her through with a lazy smirk to his fellows.

Ludmila’s initial estimation of the man had been fairly high, due to how he performed as a sentry. By the time she walked through the gate, however, it had sunk to somewhere just below the muck one would scrape off their boots after a long patrol. Rather than a capable official that promoted order, he was a capable official that facilitated crime and corruption. It would have been much better if he had been as incompetent as the others on his watch.

The view of the town streets differed little from what she had seen from the windows of the carriage the previous day: the wide, paved route of the highway curved through the town, lined with merchant inns and the storefronts of businesses that catered to both travellers and county citizenry alike. Beneath the thin veneer of the swept highway and its festive decorations, signs of the town’s true nature peeked out from every narrow street and alley. The scarce few who dared brave the streets at night were no less than what one might have expected out of a scene painted by a tavern bard: men and women that kept to themselves and the shadows, with hands that constantly drifted over their sidearms.

She stopped to look up at the bodies hanging over the central square, which swung gently in the wind amidst fluttering flags of every colour. The gaze of the militia sentries followed her slow walk along the road. It was not just them – every thug, orphan waif and beggar seemed to pause what they were doing to watch her as she passed. Though it was meant to be a disguise, the shining steel and clean linens of her carefully maintained equipment in these surroundings was about as conspicuous as a pair of Death Knights stomping through the street.

Continuing up the road under this scrutiny, she felt a tug at her arm. She turned to see a woman who stood at roughly the height of her shoulder, sporting a head of dark red hair braided into a long tail behind her.

“Looking for a place to stay the night?” She smiled playfully, “I’ll take real good care of ya.”

A hand with thin fingers and dull, dry nails reached out to lightly trace a line over Ludmila’s polished gorget as the woman closed to press against her.

“Er, I…wait, what?”

Two armed ruffians across the road exploded into laughter at her reaction. Ludmila felt her face heating up as she pulled away from the woman and quickly walked away with the sound nipping at her heels. The prostitute clicked her tongue, and Ludmila didn’t slow her pace again until she was nearly to the other end of the town.

A small part of her had wanted to wander around and personally observe the streets, hoping that the conclusions that they had made with their reconnaissance efforts missed some small bright side to its people. Having covered most of its length along the highway, however, she couldn’t say that she had seen anything that suggested there was any case of this being true. The people had their own lives, families and circumstances, to be certain, but there was nothing that spoke of defiance or resistance to the common practices of the townsfolk.

After a time however, she came to realize that any such beliefs would surely be held close to survive, and not something she could discover so casually. Rather than agonize over whether such people may or may not exist, she headed straight to a point on the map of the town she had memorized.

There were two gates leading out of Fassett Town. The first was the south gate, which she had entered from. The second was the northwest gate, where the pavement of the highway stretched out for another ten or fifteen kilometres before reaching the border between the Sorcerous Kingdom and Re-Estize. Finding a corner draped heavily in shadows, brushed off an old crate before seating herself upon it.

“They should have just arrived at the manor,” she told one of the Shadow Demons, “so start keeping track of what’s going on around the city. Check the south gate once in a while though – if it looks like the camp is going to be in trouble, assist in its defence.”

It nodded in affirmation before flickering away to carry out its orders. The second Shadow Demon looked up at her with its yellow eyes.

“I guess it’s just you and me now,” she said to her translucent escort.

Settling herself in the darkness, Ludmila did her best to conceal her presence, assuming her quiet vigil.

Table of Contents

- Table Of Contents -
Birthright: Prelude, Part 1
Birthright: Prelude, Part 2
Birthright: Act 1, Chapter 1
Birthright: Act 1, Chapter 2
Birthright: Act 1, Chapter 3
Birthright: Act 1, Chapter 4
Birthright: Act 1, Chapter 5
Birthright: Act 1, Chapter 6
Birthright: Act 1, Chapter 7
Birthright: Act 1, Chapter 8
Birthright: Act 1, Chapter 9
Birthright: Act 1, Chapter 10
Birthright: Act 1, Chapter 11
Birthright: Act 1, Chapter 12
Birthright: Act 1, Chapter 13
Birthright: Act 1, Chapter 14
Birthright: Act 1, Chapter 15
Birthright: Act 1, Chapter 16
Birthright: Act 2, Chapter 1
Birthright: Act 2, Chapter 2
Birthright: Act 2, Chapter 3
Birthright: Act 2, Chapter 4
Birthright: Act 2, Chapter 5
Birthright: Act 2, Chapter 6
Birthright: Act 2, Chapter 7
Birthright: Act 2, Chapter 8
Birthright: Act 2, Chapter 9
Birthright: Act 2, Chapter 10
Birthright: Act 2, Chapter 11
Birthright: Act 2, Chapter 12
Birthright: Act 2, Chapter 13
Birthright: Act 2, Chapter 14
Birthright: Act 2, Chapter 15
Birthright: Act 2, Chapter 16
Birthright: Act 2, Chapter 17
Birthright: Act 2, Chapter 18
Birthright: Act 2, Chapter 19
Birthright: Act 2, Chapter 20
Birthright: Act 2, Chapter 21
Birthright: Act 2, Chapter 22
Birthright: Act 2, Chapter 23
Birthright: Act 2, Chapter 24
Birthright: Act 2, Chapter 25
Birthright: Act 3, Chapter 1
Birthright: Act 3, Chapter 2
Birthright: Act 3, Chapter 3
Birthright: Act 3, Chapter 4
Birthright: Act 3, Chapter 5
Birthright: Act 3, Chapter 6
Birthright: Act 3, Chapter 7
Birthright: Act 3, Chapter 8
Birthright: Act 3, Chapter 9
Birthright: Act 3, Chapter 10
Birthright: Act 3, Chapter 11
Birthright: Act 3, Chapter 12
Birthright: Act 3, Chapter 13
Birthright: Act 3, Chapter 14
Birthright: Act 3, Chapter 15
Birthright: Act 3, Chapter 16
Birthright: Act 3, Chapter 17
Birthright: Act 3, Chapter 18
Birthright: Act 3, Chapter 19
Birthright: Act 3, Chapter 20
Birthright: Act 3, Chapter 21
Birthright: Act 3, Chapter 22
Birthright: Act 4, Chapter 1
Birthright: Act 4, Chapter 2
Birthright: Act 4, Chapter 3
Birthright: Act 4, Chapter 4
Birthright: Act 4, Chapter 5
Birthright: Act 4, Chapter 6
Birthright: Act 4, Chapter 7
Birthright: Act 4, Chapter 8
Birthright: Act 4, Chapter 9
Birthright: Act 4, Chapter 10
Birthright: Act 4, Chapter 11
Birthright: Act 4, Chapter 12
Birthright: Act 4, Chapter 13
Birthright: Act 4, Chapter 14
Birthright: Act 4, Chapter 15
Birthright: Act 4, Chapter 16
Birthright: Act 4, Chapter 17
Birthright: Act 4, Chapter 18
Birthright: Act 4, Chapter 19
Birthright: Act 4, Chapter 20
Birthright: Act 4, Chapter 21
Birthright: Act 4, Chapter 22
Birthright: Act 4, Chapter 23
Birthright: Act 4, Chapter 24
Birthright: Act 4, Chapter 25
Birthright: Act 5, Chapter 1
Birthright: Act 5, Chapter 2
Birthright: Act 5, Chapter 3
Birthright: Act 5, Chapter 4
Birthright: Act 5, Chapter 5
Birthright: Act 5, Chapter 6
Birthright: Act 5, Chapter 7
Birthright: Act 5, Chapter 8
Birthright: Act 5, Chapter 9
Birthright: Act 5, Chapter 10
Birthright: Act 5, Chapter 11