Valkyrie's Shadow

Before the Storm: Act 3, Chapter 8

Before the Storm: Act 3, Chapter 8

Chapter 8

“You look relieved to be out of there.”

“Do I?”

Rangobart opened a sleepy eye to regard Countess Waldenstein sitting across the carriage’s cabin. For whatever reason, women loved to make observations about him in their idle time and she was no exception.

Travelling alone with them was a mistake. I’ll be sure to drag one or two other guys along in the future.

Admittedly, everything about his visit to the Sorcerous Kingdom had been impromptu after his arrival…at least on his end. Still, that only meant he had to out-prepare any preparations that involved him in the future, or at least mitigate their effects.

“It probably has nothing to do with relief,” Dimoiya said sourly. “Those women were all over him last night.”

“One can only hope that he didn’t make any mistakes,” Lady Waldenstein said coolly.

Rangobart let out a tired sigh. Trying to defend himself was pointless and might make things worse, besides.

Once the league matches ended – Olga won two to one – he was bombarded by Message spells from no less than sixteen women. He told them he would be attending the post-match festivities as Baroness Zahradnik’s guest, but they came after him anyway. That same night, he endured a siege where the magical lock he had cast on his door was dispelled six times. His two travelling companions interpreted the bags under his eyes in the worst way possible despite his protests to the contrary.

The terraces of grain rolling by the window were suddenly replaced by the shadows of a tall forest. Rangobart straightened in his seat to examine the shoulder of the road.

“Whatcha looking at?” Dimoiya looked over his shoulder.

“The road,” Rangobart replied. “Building transportation routes through The Blister is going to be a huge challenge, so I’m wondering how the Sorcerous Kingdom does it in their heavily forested areas.”

“Is it really that complicated?”

Rangobart turned to frown at Dimoiya, but bumped his temple into her nose instead. The woman jerked her head back and fell onto her seat.

“My fief isn’t anything like the imperial heartland or the south where you had your Promotional Exam. The Blister is half a swamp and the rest isn’t much better. It’s going to take the Empire decades to develop it if they resort to conventional means. This area looks like it gets a lot of rain, so they may have devised some solutions to the problems that we’ll face.”

“I see…are you going to do everything that you said you would?”

“I don’t see why I wouldn’t,” Rangobart replied. “In fact, I’m sure there will be much more to consider once the Sorcerous Kingdom’s Adventurers have completed their survey.”

Needless to say, the opportunities that he was presented with were the sort that were best seized while the vast majority of the Empire was unaware of or averse to what the Sorcerous Kingdom offered. He fully intended to build up as much of a lead as he could and stay there.

“You’re going to attract a lot of flies,” Dimoiya said.

“That much is obvious,” Rangobart said, “but I question how effective they’ll be. These fiefs aren’t the usual titles stripped from one of the attainted, surrounded by developed land and a web of already-entrenched relationships. None of the usual tactics will work and every neighbour is a comrade-in-arms. All of our trade will flow through Enz, and Lord Enz’s son is a Commander in the Second Army Group. He may very well be its General within the decade. Any factional attempt to get to The Blister through Enz will fall flat on its face because the entirety of the Blister is essentially a faction in itself.”

“There should still be ways to get through to people,” Dimoiya leaned back into her seat, crossing her arms over her midriff. “Minor houses would send their daughters to form alliances. Those with wealth to spare will ‘invest’ in development. That includes Merchants. Martial Nobles and Imperial Knights are notoriously bad with money: there are going to be thousands of Imperial Knights looking for financial help after they squander their prize money.”

Rangobart recalled Harlow’s attempted shopping spree after the award ceremony. Dimoiya had a point. Normally, getting landed as an Imperial Knight wasn’t so bad as one could look to their comrades for help after predictably making a catastrophic chain of poorly thought-out expenditures. It was pretty much a rite of passage in the Imperial Army and it was hard to argue with the notion that it built closer ties between the Imperial Knights.

In The Blister, however, thousands of Imperial Knights would be doing it at the same time. House Enz and many of the other Noble families in the area would undoubtedly offer what support they could to make inroads in the new frontier. However, distant interests would still find plenty of vulnerabilities to exploit.

If he was being honest with himself, Rangobart was plotting something similar. He figured that he could offer financial aid to his neighbours using some of the profits from his processing facilities to bind them closely to his bid to develop a major urban centre. The idea that any one of his assumed allies might randomly fall for someone else’s traps presented the possibility of unpleasant complications.

He turned his gaze to the forests outside, pondering how he might secure dominance as they ascended the western slope of Warden’s Vale. Rather than return to Corelyn County via the Katze River, Lady Zahradnik suggested that they take the land route north out of her territory to visit the western regions of the Duchy of E-Rantel. According to the Baroness, Countess Corelyn predicted that most of the Empire would develop along similar lines to the fiefs they would pass through.

For now, however, all he could see was vegetation. Over time, as he took in the occasional meadow, pond, and small ravine, he started to notice certain patterns hidden in the tangle of verdant growth.

“There’s something strange about this forest,” he said.

“Huh? Wh-what are you saying all of the sudden?”

“Hold on…there, did you see that?”

Dimoiya leaned over again to look out of his window, nervously gripping his coat sleeve. Across from Rangobart, Lady Waldenstein shifted over as well.

“I think I missed it,” Dimoiya said. “We’re going too fast.”

“Just wait a minute or two and we’ll see it again,” Rangobart said.

They awaited silently until the forest cleared slightly once more. This time, what he had spotted was much more apparent.

“There,” Rangobart pointed at a set of collapsed timber frames. “Those decayed buildings. It’s an old village.”

“What’s that doing in the middle of a forest?” Dimoiya asked, “Is it an abandoned logging settlement?”

“No,” he answered with a shake of his head, “I’m pretty sure there were a handful of agricultural structures in there and the villages are spaced as if they’re amidst farmland. Baroness Zahradnik mentioned that she reclaimed the frontier shortly after the annexation of E-Rantel. This road we’re travelling on is probably built on an older route connecting Warden’s Vale to the highway.”

“I never realised that Re-Estize was in such a shoddy state,” Lady Waldenstein said. “Wasn’t E-Rantel a royal duchy before the annexation?”

“It was,” Rangobart said. “I’m amazed that House Vaiself would allow its vassals to lose territory like this.”

Such a development would have been unacceptable–no, unthinkable to the Empire. He was raised under the impression that the Kingdom was a rival to the Empire, but, upon closer inspection, the difference between them was likely vast. Never mind the bloated, stagnant country that imperial propaganda always painted it to be, the sights before them suggested that Re-Estize was physically rotting away while the Empire continued to slowly, but surely, expand.

They passed the remains of yet another village, which looked to be in a slightly better state than the previous one. It was almost as if they were travelling through time, witnessing the stages of neglect and decay that had occurred over the generations. Then, all at once, the thick vegetation was replaced by carefully cultivated farmland as far as the eye could see.

“This must be Völkchenheim County,” Rangobart said. “It’s no wonder that the neighbouring Nobles object to Baroness Zahradnik’s style of territorial management. Her forests were farms in the past, so it’s like she’s denying the restoration of Human lands.”

“Given that the Sorcerous Kingdom supports her in her efforts,” Lady Waldenstein said, “I doubt that their Royal Court cares about that bit of the duchy’s history.”

“I still haven’t any clue about their development priorities,” Rangobart said. “Usually, one would see the hand of domestic policy by now, but all I can make out are the efforts of individual houses. It’s almost as if the Sorcerous Kingdom doesn’t care about what they do so long as they do it well. What are the Court Council’s dealings with the Sorcerous Kingdom like?”

Their carriage slowed as they approached the first populated village. Many of its residents stopped to watch them pass through with wary expressions. Was it because traffic was rare, or was it due to the fact that they had come from Warden’s Vale?

“Now that you mention it,” Lady Waldenstein replied, “they’ve been solely concerned with optimising various aspects of the Empire. The overall direction of the country has been left completely in our hands. It is very difficult for most to take our protectorate status seriously until they realise this…well, the commoners care little either way so long as their little worlds don’t crumble around them.”

“Oh, there’s a crowd up ahead,” Dimoiya pressed her nose to her window. “I wonder what’s going on…”

Rangobart reached up to open the driver’s window. There wasn’t a driver to speak of, so he ended up shouting for the Soul Eater to stop instead. The entire village appeared to be present, crowding the lanes near the magistrate’s manor with hundreds of people. The villagers noticed their carriage stop on the road outside of the village, but no one moved to speak to or avoid them. He shared a glance with his two travelling companions, then Lady Waldenstein poked him forward. Rangobart cleared his throat before going up to address a group of women standing at the fringe of the crowd.

“Good morning,” he said. “What’s going on here?”

“It’s–”

One of the women turned to reply, then stopped to stare up at him with a rapidly rising blush. The other women in the group reacted similarly as their eyes fell upon him.

“It’s…?” Rangobart prompted.

“It’s…it’s the reorganisation, m’lord. The village chief’s finally come in with the papers.”

“Is that a good thing, or a bad thing?”

“They say that it’s good,” the woman said, “but what it is is terrifying. I don’t see why they can’t leave well enough alone.”

The tenuous feeling in the air lent weight to the woman’s words. Everywhere he looked, people looked frightened and uncertain.

“Do you have the details on what’s involved?” Rangobart asked, “Or perhaps seen it happen in a nearby village?”

Most of the women shook their heads.

“We haven’t left the village since the Sorcerer King took over,” the first woman said. “Well, some went to see the new Count’s wedding, but that’s about it and that was months ago.”

“They say they’re lumping our lands together!” Another woman said, “Have you heard of anything so stupid, m’lord?”

Rangobart’s eyes went to the strips of cultivated land beyond the village borders.

“Lumping your lands together…do you mean to say that they’re consolidating your land into single, large tenancies?”

“That’s exactly right, m’lord! Our lady said that the Royal Court wanted it and worse besides. There’s nothin’ to be done, but it just ain’t fair. They don’t care about us smallfolk.”

He nodded in a gesture of sympathy, but that only served to turn their fearful looks hopeful. What did they expect him to do?

In both the Empire and Re-Estize, a tenancy was measured in hides. Generally speaking, one hide supported one household and trying to assign a tenancy as a single block of land was a sure way to drive any administrator crazy. The reality was that some land was more productive than others, and the sane solution was to divvy up a tenancy between different types of land. A tenant would have a strip of land by water, another near a bog, yet another on a hillside, and so on. In all, the productive potential of their collection of land would come out to one hide.

“If I understand it correctly,” Rangobart said, “the Sorcerous Kingdom employs magic to ensure maximum crop yields regardless of land quality.”

“It’s what they say, m’lord. We’ve been getting bumper crops every season, so it’s probably true. The problem’s that it’s magic. Magic’s gotta come from someone, doesn’t it? What’ll happen to us when that magic’s gone?”

“I know what!” Another woman said, “It happened in my great-grandpappy’s time. The Barony back then had an Earth Priest who used magic to grow the crops just like they’re doing now. But then he got old and died. We all know what happened after that.”

“The hard times,” someone else nodded grimly. “A century of suffering. We all got used to growing lots of food, and everything fell apart when we couldn’t anymore. Half of the Barony starved to death. The Frontier Lords couldn’t afford the new food prices and collapsed.”

“And then the raids started, m’lord,” another woman added. “The Goblins and Ogres and what have you.”

“Using magic will only end in sorrow,” the first woman nodded. “We’ve already learned that lesson the hard way. It’s best to live proper lives within our means.”

Together, the women outlined the critical weakness that lay behind any magically-driven progress. There was no guarantee the magic one utilised in the present would be available in the future. Of course, it was almost impossible for First-tier spells to become unavailable unless magic casters were entirely absent, but Third-tier spells like Plant Growth came from casters that were considered a rarity. Rangobart couldn’t imagine the anarchy that erupted the moment people realised that their crop yields would be down by two-thirds for the indeterminate future.

Only huge, country-spanning institutions had a chance of having at least some Third-tier casters available every generation. Even then, the Temples in the Empire only managed to produce two or three dozen Earth Priests capable of casting Plant Growth and that wasn’t anywhere near enough to serve the Empire’s needs. It was easy for someone with a bit of knowledge to say ‘Oh, you only need to do this and this and this to be successful’, but reality was never so convenient.

“The Sorcerous Kingdom isn’t Re-Estize,” Rangobart offered. “Don’t you think they’d have greater access to magic?”

“That may be so, m’lord,” the first woman admitted, “but this ain’t anything like the Empire with their magic everything. I hear that even the Farmers fly there.”

“And they have magical farming tools that do all of the work themselves,” someone added.

“I think that’s just a bit of an exaggeration,” Rangobart cringed internally. “Have you considered travelling south to Warden’s Vale? They seem to be making some great strides in many areas.”

As one, the women paled. A babe in the arms of one of them started to wail.

“We wouldn’t dare, m’lord. That place is bewitched.”

“It’s a stronghold of The Six.”

“They’ve made a deal with some Devil, they have. How else could they have survived when all of the other Frontier Nobles fell?”

The group of women turned away, some of them making sacred gestures as if to ward away evil spirits.

Lady Zahradnik wasn’t wrong – these people wouldn’t be out of place in the Empire.

While they might be close among themselves, rural villages were also quite insular. All sorts of strange ideas could entrench themselves with no one to say otherwise.

With a slight gesture of his head, he motioned for Lady Waldenstein and Dimoiya to return to the carriage. There, they waited to see what would happen as the ‘reorganisation’ was carried out.

“Do you think things will get ugly?” Lady Waldenstein asked.

“I’m not sure,” Rangobart answered. “I didn’t see any Death Knights in the village, so it’s better safe than sorry.”

Land was always a touchy subject. He imagined that getting one’s land arbitrarily shuffled around would be extremely upsetting.

“At least this is one thing that we won’t have to worry about in the Empire,” he said.

“You might if you manage to get your hands on some good Druids,” Lady Waldenstein said.

“I highly doubt it will be so easy,” Rangobart told her. “Besides, even Baroness Zahradnik is highly conservative about her fief’s productive potential. She uses her surplus resources to develop her existing population and holdings rather than the usual course of seeing a surplus as a sign to increase the labour supply. I suspect that even if she were to stop using magic, her demesne would still be comfortably self-sustaining.”

“Is that what you plan on doing with that town of yours, then?”

“I fancy the idea of having a comfortably wealthy population,” Rangobart said. “The citizens of Warden’s Vale seem entirely content with their lives without needing all of the extravagances of the First and Second-class Districts in the Empire. Imperial policy has always considered all of those luxuries and entertainment necessary to keep the population docile, but she’s shown us that this may not be the case. The resources would be better invested in development.”

“Now it sounds as if she’s converted you to the Faith of the Six. I hope you know that a good part of that ‘satisfaction’ is from them being indoctrinated into settling for less.”

“Followers of The Six aren’t the only ones who gain a sense of satisfaction from seeing their work amount to something,” Rangobart replied. “Take Nemel’s people, for instance.”

Lady Waldenstein didn’t seem to have anything to say in response. He didn’t think that the Imperial Administration would be averse to the idea. They were the ones always trying to get the most out of the Empire’s resources, after all.

In the village square, men filed into the magistrate’s manor and filed back out with a scroll in hand. Many gathered in large groups where it seemed like they were trying to puzzle out their new territorial arrangements.

“Did they have to do this right now?” Countess Waldenstein said, “Why not wait until the winter? Doing this while there are crops on the way is bound to cause unnecessary confusion.”

“Would the Court Council wait until it is convenient to enact any mandates from the Sorcerous Kingdom?”

The Head Imperial Court Mage sighed. Since it looked like everything would be settled relatively quietly, Rangobart ordered the Soul Eater to continue conveying them on their journey. They reached Crosston, the new capital of Völkchenheim County, ten minutes later. A modest stone wall with wooden hoardings and narrow gatehouses protected an equally modest-looking settlement of several thousand. When they reached the gate, an Elder Lich came to the carriage window.

“Identify yourselves.”

“Frianne von Gushmond, Countess of Waldenstein.”

“Rangobart Eck Waraiya Roberbad, Viscount of Brennenthal.”

“Dimoiya Erex, um…Dimoiya.”

Twin points of crimson light stared down at a clipboard as they declared themselves. A moment later, the Undead mage looked back up again.

“Your arrival has been expected,” it said.

The Elder Lich stepped back and waved them through. The gatehouse’s Human guards gaped at them as they passed.

“Did we do something weird?” Dimoiya asked.

“I don’t think so,” Rangobart answered. “Maybe they’re unused to people used to the Undead? I haven’t seen any in this town so far aside from that Elder Lich.”

“Zahradnik said this place was similar to the Empire,” Lady Waldenstein said. “Is it anything like this in the Second Army Group’s jurisdiction?”

“Strangely, yes,” Rangobart replied as he gazed out the window. “This town wouldn’t be out of place in the Empire. I wonder if this is what most of the Duchy of E-Rantel looks like…”

So far, they had been sent to a set of specific locations, all of which either showcased the future that the Sorcerous Kingdom offered or the state of its allies and subjects outside of the Duchy of E-Rantel. It made sense that they wouldn’t show the territories which weren’t representative of their goals.

“I hope we don’t get in trouble for this,” Dimoiya said.

“We came on Zahradnik's recommendation,” Lady Waldenstein said. “That should mean we’re fine…”

“Does anyone have anything they want to do here?” Rangobart asked.

“Not particularly,” Lady Waldenstein answered. “We’re visiting another Noble’s territory unannounced, so I don’t think we should draw too much attention to ourselves.”

“Dimoiya agrees!”

“I was thinking the same thing,” Rangobart nodded. “But I’d still like to get a feel for how the citizens are faring under their new ruler.”

“The Sorcerer King, or Count Völkchenheim?”

“…both?”

“I doubt anyone would say anything against the Sorcerer King,” Lady Waldenstein said. “Also, we had the opportunity to get to know Count Völkchenheim and his wife before your party arrived. He’s…well, he’s a nice fellow.”

In other words, despite his imperial-sounding name, he didn’t have any qualities that the imperial nobility considered useful. A ‘nice fellow’ didn’t gain any power unless they just so happened to possess extraordinary capabilities. Rangobart didn’t have anything against the type, but they also weren’t very useful connections as they were prone to being exploited left, right, and centre by everyone else and never got anywhere for their time and effort.

“I’m not here to make an acquaintance of the Count,” Rangobart said. “He’s in Corelyn Harbour with the rest of the Sorcerous Kingdom’s Nobles anyway. As for how the people feel about the Sorcerer King, just observing them as they go about their daily business should be telling enough. I’m going to walk around the town market. Are either of you coming?”

Lady Waldenstein took a look out the window.

“It’s too crowded for me,” she said.

“Dimoiya will come!”

“Dimoiya, could you pick up a light lunch for me while you’re out there?”

“Sure thing.”

Dimoiya stepped out onto the street after him, shading her eyes as she scanned the townscape.

“Oh, the Temple of the Four is still standing,” she said.

“Your family is pretty devout, isn’t it?” Rangobart asked, “Would you like to visit? It must have been weeks since you last attended a service.”

“Hmm…that’s probably not a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“I feel like I might get caught up in something,” Dimoiya said. “The Temples are already crazy enough about the Sorcerous Kingdom back in the Empire – I don’t want to know what they’re like here.”

He thought he could sympathise with her position. Temples of the same faith could differ in character depending on where they were. Getting caught up in local agendas would be awkward and unwelcome for any visitor, never mind someone from a Noble house.

“In that case,” he said, “shall we take a stroll around the central plaza?”

“Sure.”

Dimoiya latched onto his arm. He stared at her for a good moment.

“You’re not escorting me?” Dimoiya frowned up through her lashes at him.

Rangobart faced forward again, trying to figure out how the market was arranged. Though the early morning rush was long over, it was still crowded enough that they could lose track of one another. Merchants noticed their fine apparel the moment they started walking toward the stands. Fortunately, Dimoiya was more than happy enough to do most of the talking. The Merchants, similarly, targeted Dimoiya over him.

“Welcome, young madam. May I interest you in the newest pieces of woodcraft from the county’s finest artisans?”

Wait a minute. Did he just assume that we’re married?

He looked at Dimoiya out of the corner of his eye. She seemed entirely fine with going along with his presumption, chatting animatedly while poring over the Merchant’s display. As far as he could tell from the inventories displayed in the stalls around them, Crosston didn’t have any specialised industries. It was the plainest sort of urban centre: one whose sole purpose was to service the rural lands around it.

“Oh, I like this,” she gushed over a row of carved sparrows sitting on a branch. “And it’s a set! How much?”

The Merchant listed a figure. Dimoiya dropped some coins into his palm. Rangobart ended up with a bag in his hand. He didn’t like where things were going.