Valkyrie's Shadow

Before the Storm: Act 2, Chapter 3

Before the Storm: Act 2, Chapter 3

Chapter 3

After dinner, Frianne took Ludmila’s suggestion to retire early for the night to get some much-needed rest. She spent three hours writing a summary of the trip for the Court Council before passing out, and when she woke up in the morning and re-read it, she was certain that everyone back in Arwintar would think she had gone insane. Their journey up and down the Azerlisia Mountains, while only lasting two days, was one that would have taken months of conventional travel.

Ludmila’s talk about not existing in the same world will undoubtedly make things even worse.

She threw back her covers with a sigh, wandering around her room in search of something to wear for the day. Surely, Ludmila was framing things in the metaphorical sense that Clara had back in Corelyn Harbour. As beautiful and isolated as Warden’s Vale was, Frianne wouldn’t go so far as to call it alien. By and large, she could recognise most things at a glance and make reasonably confident assumptions as to how they fit into the grand scheme of things.

Her lips pressed into a thin line as she focused on doing up the buttons of her dress. After a moment, she shrugged it off again and searched through her bags for another outfit.

That can’t have been the largest one…

Frianne had packed multiple sets of clothing to account for her advancing pregnancy, but it seemed that she had underestimated things. Was that why pregnant women didn’t travel? It seemed as good a reason as any. All of the other difficulties felt like exaggerations and overblown worries now that she was going through them herself.

In the end, she picked out a warm set of sleepwear that probably wouldn’t look strange outside, then wrapped a Lizardman blanket around her shoulders. After checking over herself in a body-length mirror, she decided that she would probably fit right in with the locals if she had one of the headscarves that all of their women wore.

She cast a Clean spell on herself before heading out, immediately feeling the bite of the chilly highland air on her face. The village square was already alive with activity, though its size spread things out to make everything look deceptively quiet. She had visited rural villages and remote towns before, and everything she saw in Warden’s Vale was similar enough to them.

Except for that…

Frianne backed away as a little girl walked by with some kind of powerful Skeleton. The girl carried a basket of food while the Skeleton cradled a crate filled with crafting supplies in its bony arms. After warily watching the strange duo disappear into a nearby shophouse, she noticed that there were kids walking around with Skeletons all over the place. As with the girl, they appeared to be carrying out the same morning chores that children everywhere did. For some stupid reason, the Skeletons were all wearing one accessory or another, ranging from colourful ribbons tied around their bones to straw hats with vibrant decorations.

Was this how Ludmila had so quickly accustomed her people to the presence of the Undead? She got them through their children?

She was careful not to cross the path of anyone as she made her way to the ‘official unofficial’ residence of the territorial lord. Across the street from its jungle-like front window was a large billboard she hadn’t noticed before. She joined the handful of villagers gathered before it, looking up at various posts written in the shared script of Re-Estize and Baharuth. Her attention was drawn to a line carved along the top of the board.

Forty-seven days since last incident…

The numbers were etched into rectangular placards hung onto iron pegs. Frianne pondered the mysterious line’s meaning.

Her first thought was that there were certain dangerous industries in the region. If that was the case, it was an admirable record. House Gushmond’s mines couldn’t go a week without a work-related fatality.

Since Ludmila said what she did about quarrying stone, maybe it’s something else. Forestry, perhaps? No, that’s just as deadly, if not more.

“Mornin’ Prez!”

Frianne turned to discover that Dimoiya had gone completely native. She knew that her inquisitive junior would have used the time after yesterday evening’s dinner to investigate as much as she could, but it looked like she had also done some shopping. Her garb completely matched that of the villagers and she carried herself with the intrepid posture of a brave frontiersman in an imperial propaganda poster.

“Good morning, Dimoiya,” Frianne replied. “I see you’ve already started digging around.”

“Mhm,” Dimoiya nodded. “It’s really interesting here! A bunch of Demihumans showed up after you retired for the evening and set up a market in the square. It was still going on by the time I went to bed.”

“What were they selling?”

“All sorts of stuff. Mostly unprocessed materials. Let’s see…there were things that you’d expect to come out of a forest, but it shocked me to see how many uncommon and rare goods there were. The Alchemists that came to shop were all over them! You should come check it out with me after dinner tonight. I hope we get crab again.”

“I’m amazed you could eat so much crab,” Frianne said.

After the steamed crab came crab cakes and crab pudding. They ate so much crab that Frianne dreamed that she had given birth to a crab. She was able to nurse her newborn child for all of five minutes before Dimoiya appeared and ate it in front of her. Frianne reacted to the loss of her crab-baby by blowing up Dimoiya with a Fireball and Dimoiya exploded into a shower of steamed crab legs. The dream was so vivid that Frianne felt around to make sure she wasn’t carrying a crab the moment she awoke.

“Dimoiya has an extra stomach just for crab!”

“Crab is apparently good for pregnancies, as well,” Ludmila’s voice came from the side.

“I-Is that so? Honestly, my mother and grandmother have been feeding me all sorts of strange things ever since they found out about the baby. I’ve had everything from Kinshu Yogurt to powdered Green Dragon gizzard.”

Ludmila stared at her for a long moment.

“…Frianne.”

“What is it?”

“You should be careful of what you consume – especially while you’re carrying a child.”

“I-It should be fine! My mother said that she had the same thing while she was carrying me.”

“What are they supposed to do?” Dimoiya asked.

“Kinshu is to develop clear, healthy skin,” Frianne answered. “The Green Dragon gizzard is for increased cunning.”

“What are you, a potion?” Ludmila muttered, “And people say that followers of The Six are the weird ones…”

That’s because they are…

While it was common knowledge that people could inherit physical traits such as eye and hair colour or the shape of one’s nose and ears, those who worshipped the Six Great Gods believed that things like vocational expertise could be passed down in the same way. This was, of course, ridiculous. Everyone had to learn professional skills – they weren’t born with them.

“So,” Frianne asked, “what do you have planned for us today?”

“We need to take care of you, first,” Ludmila said.

“Me?”

“Yes, you. Your skin and hair are drying out and the dress you were wearing yesterday was too tight. There’s also something about your smell…we should have a member of the temple staff check on you and the baby.”

Eh…my smell?

Ludmila took her by the wrist and brought her into her official unofficial residence. The interior was a smaller version of the shophouse that Frianne was staying in and the entire display area was filled with unknown plants.

“Luzi.”

Miss Luzi appeared from behind a painted wooden divider.

“Yes, my lady?”

“Lady Waldenstein could use an examination.”

“Of course,” Miss Luzi lowered her head. “Hmm…is it alright to use the war room?

“That should be fine,” Ludmila said. “Oh, is the thing I ordered finished?”

“Yes, my lady.”

On their way to the stairs behind the counter, they passed the entrance of an office where an Elder Lich was seated at a desk. Frianne was brought to a room on the second floor with a large table placed in its centre. There were no chairs around the table, but there was a small couch along the wall nearby. They referred to it as a ‘war room’, but she didn’t see any indication of it being anything of the sort.

Ludmila gestured for her to be seated.

“This is really too much of a fuss to be making over me,” Frianne said.

“Honestly,” Ludmila said, “if you didn’t have duties to attend to in the Empire, I would have invited you to stay here until you delivered the baby.”

“If I didn’t have duties to attend to in the Empire,” Frianne snorted, “my mother would have locked me up in the estate.”

“Pardon me, my lady,” Miss Luzi said before kneeling before Frianne and cupping her chin with one hand.

“Erm, Miss Luzi is doing the examination?”

“That’s right,” Ludmila said. “She’s an Acolyte.”

“You’re allowed to have a member of the Temples in your household staff?” Frianne asked, “That isn’t at all acceptable in the Empire.”

“The Sorcerous Kingdom has nothing to worry about from the Temple of the Six.”

I suppose that’s true…

The Temple of the Four was the greatest threat to the Imperial Administration, so the Empire constantly sought to undermine the Temples’ power. The result was a relationship that could be described as mistrustful, at best. Ever since the Empire became a client state of the Sorcerous Kingdom, it was the next closest thing to belligerent. The Sorcerous Kingdom, on the other hand, was so powerful that she doubted that they cared about what the Temples did.

“That must be convenient, in various ways.”

“How are examinations like this held in the Empire?” Ludmila asked.

“My family pays for a High Priest to come from the Arwintar Cathedral,” Frianne answered. “Now that we’re on that topic, I can’t imagine what I’ll be subjected to when I get back. My father is on the Court Council, so he’s going to hear about all of the Undead and whatever else scares him that I’ve encountered.”

“Isn’t sending for a High Priest backwards?”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s just a routine examination, isn’t it?” Ludmila leaned against the table, “Even Acolytes can do that. Having a High Priest come over takes up time that the High Priest could be using to address the issues that only they can deal with.”

Frianne glanced at Miss Luzi.

“But an Acolyte is still a Priest in training. Those with the means would naturally pay for the best care possible…”

“It doesn’t work that way,” Ludmila said. “At least not in the specific manner in which you assert. An Acolyte will still always know if there’s a ‘problem’. If they can’t deal with the problem or identify it, then they can send for a higher-rank member of the temple staff who can. The only time you’d rationally send for the highest-rank Priest possible is if you’ve been afflicted with poison, some supernatural disease, or a curse that immediately threatens lives. You have thousands of Acolytes for every High Priest – I can only imagine that the wealthy would be resented by taking up critical resources for a routine examination.”

Assuming people even know this…

“Where did you learn this from?” Frianne asked.

“Shouldn’t knowledge of the workings of the regional health care and sometimes education system be a fundamental component of any scion’s education?”

Not if that ‘health care system’ is considered a relic of the past that should be replaced as quickly as possible…

At best, the Imperial Magic Academy recognised the Temples’ existence. How they factored into governance wasn’t covered unless one became an officer in the Imperial Administration and enrolled in their affiliated university. Even then, temple operations were components of a formula and that formula didn’t require any deep understanding: only that the result fell within a range of acceptable bounds that included the Temples’ ability to cause problems for the Administration.

“That isn’t the case in the Empire,” Frianne said, “and I’m certain that you understand the reasons behind it. Actually, one of the things I was interested in seeing is how you’ve addressed your public health concerns with Alchemy.”

“It’s as good a place to start as any, I suppose,” Ludmila said. “How is Lady Waldenstein, Luzi?”

“Her strength is probably causing her to overlook a few issues,” the Maid said.

“My strength?”

“In Adventurer terms,” Ludmila said, “you’re around Difficulty Rating Sixty. As a conventional arcane caster, that means you’re about as physically robust as a strong Iron-rank Adventurer. At least by the Sorcerous Kingdom’s standards.”

“Your baby, however, is not,” Miss Luzi told her. “There isn’t any danger so far, but keep in mind that you can go to greater extremes than the average Human mother can. Aside from that, I would recommend against the use of any cosmetics unless you know what’s in them. Not only can they get along badly with your dry skin, but you may also absorb something unhealthy. You may resist the effects, but your unborn child is much weaker than you are.”

“Nothing that I use registers as poison to detection spells,” Frianne said.

“Poison detection spells only recognise poisons strong enough to take effect in a single dose. Certain pigments and scents used in cosmetics have toxic elements that build up in the body over time. Think of it as the same or worse as consuming undercooked meat or alcohol.”

Frianne shuddered.

“Why didn’t the High Priest tell me any of that?” She asked.

“Out of practice, perhaps,” Miss Luzi answered. “The higher one goes in the Temples, the more one’s time is taken up by paperwork and other things. It could also be a lack of experience. The Temple of the Six promotes its clergy based on seniority, but I’ve heard that politics and such can influence advancement in the Temple of the Four. Ironically, an Acolyte or junior Priest from a regular temple would have probably informed you of what I did since they see far more people than the senior temple staff.”

“I wonder if there’s any way to put that bald old man through the wringer,” Frianne grumbled. “My family donated a tidy sum for the service.”

“What did that service include?”

“I identified five First-tier spells and four Second-tier spells cast during the ceremony. There was the examination before that, of course, but he didn’t find anything wrong with me…which only made me wonder why he cast all of those spells.”

Ludmila and her maid exchanged a look.

“I believe Liane would call that ‘covering his ass’,” Ludmila said. “He couldn’t find anything wrong, but he cast spells that dealt with the common problems anyway. It seems that even the temples in the Empire are very…imperial.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Frianne frowned.

“That the Baharuth Empire, from the Emperor on down, seems to prefer overpowering their problems. Whether it’s crushing people with laws, rewriting public perception through information control, running things down with Imperial Knights, or blasting its worries away with magic…even the underhanded scheming works toward the ultimate goal of overpowering an opponent.”

“We like acting decisively.”

“And I’m curious where that will ultimately lead you,” Ludmila said. “We should go and find Rangobart. Dimoiya, would you be so kind as to give Frianne a copy of your notes?”

“Sure!”

“You took notes?” Frianne asked.

“It sounded important,” Dimoiya adjusted her spectacles. “When I’m big and powerful, I’m going to have kids too!”

“Assuming your parents don’t marry you off before then.”

“No way! I’ll grow like Veronica and find my very own Ludwig!”

Ludmila placed her hand lightly on the small of Dimoiya’s back and gently guided her back down the stairs. Frianne straightened her outfit before going to join them outside. There, they found Rangobart standing with someone she hadn’t seen since her graduation.

“Nemel?”

“Prez?” The scion of House Gran came over to tug at Frianne’s blanket tearfully, “Prez, get this! Rangobart stalked me all the way back to Warden’s Vale!”

“Hah?”

“Rangobart,” Frianne said, “this isn’t the Academy anymore.”

“You stalked Miss Gran during your Academy years?” Ludmila frowned.

“What? No! I was just looking out for her–”

Rangobart snapped his mouth shut, but it was too late.

“I was recently informed that you moved here, Nemel,” Frianne said.

“I arrived this spring,” Nemel nodded. “It’s been a crazy few months, but, overall, things feel like they’re going well.”

“Have you noticed any problems with the new registration procedures?” Ludmila asked.

“Nothing that isn’t unavoidable, my lady,” Nemel replied. “The post office’s identification procedures are a bit much for arrivals to handle, but they don’t cause any permanent damage.”

“Then the choice is between freezing every night for no reason and getting registered.”

“Pretty much. I managed to get a few to come by having the men bring them, but I had to wait until the morning rush was over or they’d try to swim back home.”

A small group of commoners adorned in the garb of poor imperial urbanites was clustered nearby, occupying a point equidistant from the Death Knight standing by the sign, a Death Knight standing sentry further down the street, and the plants that were crawling around outside of Ludmila's makeshift manor.

“You brought people from the Empire?” Frianne asked.

“They’re spares from Arwintar that signed up to move here,” Nemel answered. “Mostly originating from my family’s fief. I suppose that this was never mentioned in the Court Council sessions.”

“It’s my first time hearing about it,” Frianne said. “With everything that’s been going on, the Ministry of Domestic Affairs is already drowning in paperwork.”

A wagon rolled into the village square, driven by a Vampire in a postal service uniform. Or maybe the Soul Eater was driving it and the Vampire was just riding along. Distressed noises issued from the group of migrants as they shifted away from the road and the wagon rolled to a stop in front of Ludmila’s manor. The Vampire disembarked and came over, bowing low in greeting.

“Good morning, Baroness Zahradnik.”

“Good morning,” Ludmila replied. “Don’t let me get in the way of your work, Miss Gran.”

Nemel nodded and went to address her people. Frianne watched curiously as they lined up in pairs in front of the door to Ludmila’s place.

“What does this registration involve?” Frianne asked.

“It’s probably easier to see for yourself,” Ludmila said.

“Will that be alright?”

“The process is hardly confidential. It’s not much different than registering family members at the local hall. Actually, that’s exactly what’s going on now. The men are settlers from the first wave of migrants. They’re registering their new wives who recently arrived.”

“I see.”

It sounded simple enough. In the Empire, the first wave of pioneers to a frontier was almost always exclusively men. Women came once a new settlement was secured and solidly on the path of development. Nemel had prudently taken advantage of a well-known process to avoid many of the headaches that would have otherwise happened. Single women looking for husbands would always come so long as they knew their prospective partners had some land or a licence and men were easier to recruit if they knew they would be able to get a wife.

Once the first couple entered the manor, Ludmila brought them back inside and they stood amidst the small jungle in the ‘hall’ to watch.

“Gyahh!” Dimoiya cried, “Something licked my ankle!”

“Shh!”

Dimoiya quieted down as the Vampire shushed her with a stern look. The buxom postal officer’s attention then turned to the skinny woman trembling in front of the counter, lavishing her with a smile that straddled the line between seductive and obscene. Pale fingers with enviously perfect nails lightly tilted the woman’s chin upward.

“Do not resist,” the Vampire commanded in a sultry voice.

Her crimson gaze flared, and the woman’s trembling ceased. A chill travelled down Frianne’s spine.

That Vampire just dominated her.

It was one of the hallmarks of their kind, but there were few descriptions of it in action. A fight against a Vampire with reasonable odds of victory could quickly turn into a massacre if a member of a subjugating force fell prey to the ability.

“What is your name?” The Vampire asked, her quill hovering over some sort of form.

“Laura. Laura Colson.”

“How old are you?”

“Fifteen.”

“And you have agreed to become this man’s wife?”

“I think he’ll do.”

Frianne winced. They were using domination magic to collect truthful statements, but it seemed that there were some hidden pitfalls. Unlike regular charm spells, self-preservation didn’t factor into how the target of a domination effect answered questions or carried out commands.

It should be fine, I think? They’ve just recently met, after all.

After collecting several forms’ worth of information, the Vampire unfurled a scroll on the counter between them.

“Please sign here.”

“I can’t read or write,” Laura said. “What does it say?”

“This scroll contains a list of items that you may freely obtain as a new resident.”

The woman took another quill from the counter and marked the document. The Vampire stamped the scroll and sealed it before holding it out.

“Welcome to the Sorcerous Kingdom, Laura Colson,” the Vampire Bride smiled pleasantly. “You may redeem the items on this list at the shops across the village square. Serve His Majesty well.”

With that, the woman stumbled back a step. She shook her head and rubbed her eyes, whimpering at the realisation of what had happened.

“Hmm,” Ludmila crossed her arms, “no matter how nicely we do things, we always get that reaction.”

Because they were just subjected to a hostile magic effect, obviously!

Laura’s husband picked up the scroll from the counter and silently bobbed his head before leading his new wife back outside. When the next couple came in, a sense of morbid curiosity over what the next woman would say kept her from leaving. After all six couples were registered, they went back outside. Rangobart gave Frianne an unreadable look.

“What is it?” She asked.

“Women are brutal creatures,” he said.

“We’re realistic,” Frianne sniffed. “It’s men who have unreasonably romantic expectations nestled in their little glass hearts.”

Nemel walked up to the group of migrants, clapping her hands twice to get their attention.

“Alright, everyone!” She said in her characteristically cheerful voice, “It’s time to go shopping!”

The group of migrants followed after the seneschal. Ludmila’s group followed after the migrants. They crossed the village square to the main row of storefronts, stopping at an oddly constructed boutique.

“Something seems off about this building…” Frianne said.

“The shophouses here don’t have workshops or warehouses attached,” Rangobart said. “Each one is just an outlet for goods.”

“That’s strange. Why were they built this way?”

“I’ve consolidated the local mundane industries into several chartered companies with this latest group of new buildings,” Ludmila told them. “Each artisan owns a share in the company and contributes their own product line. Dedicated Merchants run the storefront while the artisans focus on their craft in the manufactory behind this building.”

“Eh…” Dimoiya looked up at the sign of the building, “Didn’t that one group try something like this in Arwintar a few years ago?”

“They did,” Frianne nodded. “It ended in catastrophe.”

“What happened?” Ludmila asked.

“Infighting,” Dimoiya said. “They kept trying to undermine one another, bribing the Merchants to promote their products over their partners’ and other sneaky things. The Merchants working in the storefront were competing against one another too. They kept undercutting to make sales – some even offered promotional gifts to entice people to deal with them. In the end, one guy bankrupted himself and set the store on fire out of spite. A whole block in the Second-class District burnt down.”

Rangobart scoffed.

“That sequence of events seems an obvious thing,” he said. “I suppose it’s harder to light stone buildings on fire, but…”

“There hasn’t been any hint of that behaviour,” Ludmila said. “That sort of thinking is unthinkable on the frontier. If a group of people acted like that out here, a Troll would come along and eat them all while they were fighting one another.”

“…you still get attacked by Trolls?” Rangobart frowned.

“No,” Ludmila said. “Though I would consider sending the resident Trolls after those types of troublemakers.”

The women entered the boutique and each was allowed to have their choice of two sets of work clothes, boots, a nightgown, smallclothes, and a set of towels and blankets. Despite the size of the shop, most of its offerings were unassuming in appearance. Ludmila fished up some new clothing for Frianne, as well.

Their next stop was the outlet next door, where the newcomers received various odds and ends, including cookware, utensils, dishes, bar soap, and clay pots to store things in.

“Did they even need to pack anything from the Empire?” Rangobart said.

“I’m sure they brought some articles of sentimental value,” Ludmila said. “Barring their specific vocation and location, however, everyone gets the same start here.”

“That’s quite generous of you.”

“People often don’t know what they need out here, so it’s better to just make sure they have everything that they need.”

By the time they were done with the second outlet, everyone had so much stuff that each person had to put it all into a barrel and load it onto a wagon. Frianne grew alert as they came to their next stop, which had a variety of potions and magic items on display.

“I recall you saying something about using potions instead of Priests back when you were with us on the Blister Campaign,” Rangobart said, “but you’re giving out magic items, as well?”

“Our magic item production is steady enough that we can supply what few immigrants we get,” Ludmila said. “They receive a kit with potions for almost anything that can happen to them in their new homes. Additionally, they each get a temperature control item, a water source, two light sources, a preservation item for uncooked meat, and another preservation item for other food.”

Frianne eyed the shelves, trying to tally the total value of everything Ludmila listed. Needless to say, it was far beyond the means of most. All but the residents of the Empire’s First-class Districts and the wealthier citizens of the Second-class Districts would be able to afford the expenditure. If the average resident of Arwintar’s Third-class District saved up their discretionary income to make the same purchase, it might take them a decade or more.

“Isn’t this far too much?” Frianne asked, “What are your production costs like?”

“They’re quite reasonable, actually,” Ludmila answered. “These items only come with a new registration, however. Anything beyond that becomes a personal expense at the prices you see listed here.”

“Even so,” Rangobart said, “the cost of doing the same thing in the Empire would be crippling. I assume you’ve made some calculation in regards to how long this investment would take to pay itself back in rent and taxes.”

“I have,” Ludmila replied with a nod. “It doesn’t take long. My subjects make personal purchases quite frequently.”

“How can that be? A purchase like this would represent decades of a common labourer’s wage. Even if they hold a tenancy, I can’t imagine anyone buying more than one of these items every year.”

“Well, that’s where your visit comes in. I’ve pretty much given up trying to explain in words how different things are in the Sorcerous Kingdom. Especially when it comes to my territory. Let’s move on, shall we?”