Valkyrie's Shadow

Empire in Chains: Act 3, Chapter 5

Empire in Chains: Act 3, Chapter 5

Chapter 5

The sound of coins clinked in the air. Nemel opened a groggy eye.

What time was it? The shutters were half-open, offering a view of shrouded peaks in the grey light. She had slept in again.

It’s because of that magic item…

No, it was more than that. The magic item that regulated the temperature of the surroundings did remind Nemel of the humble, yet cosy comfort of Gran Manor, but there was something else. Something strange.

It was a feeling she never had before and she couldn’t think of a good word to describe it. The feeling suffused her entire being: a light sensation that drifted just outside of her direct awareness. More than something it was somewhere. A piece of herself that had been missing for her entire life; a place where she belonged.

This feeling of belonging wasn’t in the familial sense. Nemel had grown up in a loving family who did what they could for their youngest daughter. This was more purposeful; more assertive – something that instilled her with a greater sense of direction and confidence than she had before.

Coins continued to clink against each other. Nemel slowly sat up. She drew her blanket around her in a bid to savour its receding warmth.

“Good morning, Miss Gran.”

“Good morning, Dame Verilyn.”

Nemel lowered her head. As she did, she smiled over the fact that it wasn’t out of ingrained habit.

Have a new liege now. I’m going to have a real title with a fief and…

She frowned as her line of thought hit a snag. Dame Verilyn was a Knight, but what was a vassal of a Knight called? Not that Dame Verilyn was just any old Knight. The territory she held was the size of a large Barony, and Baroness Zahradnik in turn had a Barony the size of a large County. Frontier lands were often weird like that, as borders could be in flux and it was one of the duties of a Frontier Noble to expand when they could.

In the Empire, this was considered the old way of things, as Nobles no longer bore martial obligations as a part of the contract with their liege. Many of their traditions and customs had been carried into the Imperial Army, but one could not take the forces under their command out to conquer more land for themselves. The Sorcerous Kingdom was not the Empire, however, and they followed the old way of things as they had adopted the laws of Re-Estize.

Nemel shook her head. None of that helped her figure out just what sort of Noble she was. Unless there were some bizarre circumstances involved, a vassal of the gentry was not a member of the nobility.

“Are you unwell?” Dame Verilyn’s voice drifted over her.

“No, I’m fine,” Nemel replied. “I’m feeling great, actually. It’s strange: I went to bed last night and everything just felt right when I woke up.”

“Ah,” Dame Verilyn nodded. “That. You’ll get used to it after a while – enough that you’ll no longer notice that it’s there.”

“You know what it is?”

Dame Verilyn took a stack of ten gold coins and set it beside another. She reached into a purse on the table and started on the next, seemingly taking her time to slowly savour the activity.

“It’s an Ability,” she said. “One possessed by Lord-type beings.”

Nemel’s mouth fell open as she clutched her blanket.

“You’re a Dragon Lord?”

The Frost Dragon in elven form seemed to find her question amusing.

“Not yet,” she smirked. “In draconic culture, one must either be an Ancient or possess some extraordinary quality to be considered a ‘Lord’. Check with me again in three hundred years.”

“…but I’ll be dead.”

“Will you? If that happens to be the case, tell your children to do so in three hundred years. If you’re wondering where the effect is coming from, it’s provided by my liege. You are, by extension, one of her subjects.”

“I thought you said Baroness Zahradnik was a Noble,” Nemel said.

“And I said that Nobles were Human Lords,” Dame Verilyn added. “Every race has ‘Lords’, though the specific functions that they serve vary from species to species. The abilities of Lord-type individuals depend on factors that include their race’s natural characteristics and cultural development. In their most raw form, Lords have Abilities and Skills that supplement the strengths or shore up the weaknesses of their race.”

As a professional soldier – or at least a professional soldier in training – Nemel had been instructed on the Lord-type Demihumans that Imperial Army patrols might encounter. This knowledge was fairly limited, however, essentially paraphrased as ‘kill that one first’. Most were considered the rough equivalent to Commanders, or more accurately Captains, and were profiled with the accordingly appropriate threat assessment.

That Humans had leader-types similar to Demihuman Lords was stupidly clear in hindsight, especially since they commonly equated Demihuman Lords with Commanders. It was a strange thing to not realise…or maybe it was just Nemel that never realised it.

“I know martial Nobles do extremely well as officers in the army,” Nemel said, “but House Gran doesn’t have a martial tradition. We’re just Wizards.”

“Blasting people with Fireballs sounds overwhelmingly ‘martial’ to me. If your family has been one long line of aristocratic Wizards, however, I would venture to guess that you are a Noble Caster. Hmm…Noble Wizard?”

“An Imperial Arcanist.”

Dame Verilyn looked up from her coins.

“Oh – that does have a very nice ring to it.”

“No, I mean that’s what they’re called. Have you read Fundamental Principles of Magocratic Governance?”

“I have, but you’ll come to learn that Frost Dragons do not learn in the same manner that Humans do. I do recall ‘Imperial Arcanist’ being repeatedly mentioned in the text, however.”

“That’s what I’m referring to,” Nemel reached up and stretched. “Volume III of the treatise deals with the formation of a true magocratic culture. Lady Frianne calls for the transformation of the Imperial Nobility into an elite cadre of aristocratic mages who will help realise our nation’s destiny: Imperial Arcanists. She tries really hard to make it attractive to her readers, but since cold practicality is promoted over stuff like arts and culture, I think most don’t give it any serious consideration.”

“I assume you see things differently.”

“It’s my favourite volume,” Nemel nodded. “Everything just made sense to me. It’s what House Gran has been doing since forever. Reading Lady Frianne’s thoughts on it made me realise that there’s probably a lot more to our traditions than anyone thinks.”

Dame Verilyn continued to stack coins. Nemel swung her legs out over the edge of the bed and changed into her uniform. After lacing up her boots and using Clean from a Trooper’s Towel, she tied up her hair and walked over to join Dame Verilyn at the table.

“Did you bring this up for me?”

In front of an empty chair was a bowl of creamy potato stew with two rolls of fresh bread and butter.

“Zu Chiru had one of his apprentices bring you some breakfast up from the tavern. He noted how much you seemed to enjoy this back in Engelfurt.”

“…I see,” she sat down and stirred the hearty stew, savouring the aroma that wafted up at her. “What is Master Chiru’s relationship to you, if I may ask?”

“He is a Quagoa, and I am a Frost Dragon. Up until recently, the Quagoa of the Azerlisia Mountains were slaves to the Frost Dragons.”

Nemel’s stirring stopped. She stared over at Dame Verilyn.

“Slaves?”

“Hmm…I suppose Humans have a different take on that concept. Slavery is not illegal in the Empire – do you have any?”

“No,” Nemel shook her head. “Slaves are expensive and House Gran isn’t very wealthy. We’re just ordinary Nobles who employ a small household and some skilled labourers for our business. Most of them come from families that have been our vassals for generations. Everyone has to work to keep things going.”

“Is that so?” Dame Verilyn produced another coin pouch, “By Human definition, the Quagoa weren’t our slaves, but tributaries. The relationship is much like what the Green Dragon in The Blister has with the cities surrounding it. We occasionally received tribute in the form of precious ores or gems while the Quagoa enjoyed a form of protection against powerful threats. They could also pay us to take care of some specific problem. Otherwise, they were free to do as they pleased, just as these Humans here are. The Quagoa were doing quite well for themselves…until the Sorcerer King appeared and decided to favour the Dwarves.”

After casting a spell to heat her food, Nemel settled in to enjoy her meal. A spoonful of the chunky stew almost reached her lips before she set it back down again.

“Is something the matter?” Dame Verilyn asked.

“I was wondering if there was any poison,” Nemel peered at the meal suspiciously. “Not that I think Zu Chiru would poison me, but someone along the way might have put something in here…”

“Are you often the subject of poisoning attempts?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever been. With all of those people around, though, I can’t help but think about it. They don’t even have to kill me, just incapacitate me and try to worm their way close to you while I’m, uh…occupied.”

“You don’t have to worry about that,” Dame Verilyn told her. “I have a Spellsong that can strip away those sorts of detrimental effects.”

Nemel shovelled a spoonful of stew into her mouth. What she knew of Bards and Spellsongs was limited to hearsay and rumours. It wasn’t out of any sort of specific negligence on her part, however.

The Imperial Magic Academy mainly promoted arcane magic and practical fields. The arts were way on the opposite end of the spectrum and an imperial aristocrat’s education, while cultivating an appreciation for fine things, did not provide a real understanding of them. She doubted that even the Emperor himself knew much about Spellsongs.

“I didn’t know Spellsongs could do that,” she said between mouthfuls. “I know it’s something like a Skill that can be employed to produce supernatural effects, but it doesn’t sound like a regular Skill. You turn music into something like magic, but that just feels so undefined and irrational to a Wizard like me.”

“Imperial Arcanist, you mean.”

Nemel smiled despite herself. Lady Frianne was acquainted with her through an old friend at the Academy, but the difference in station between them made any real friendship impossible. The idea that she might be a living example of the genius valedictorian’s treatise made her feel a bit closer to her.

“The composition of Spellsongs is a product of intuition,” Dame Verilyn said, “which does sound like it would be frustrating to Wizards. As Dragons are something like innate Sorcerers, however, I feel that I am also naturally inclined towards being a Bard.”

“That makes sense,” Nemel agreed, then frowned. “Or does it? Most Bards are just Bards and not also Sorcerers. Arcane magic – no, Tier Magic doesn’t seem to be related to Spellsongs at all. Tier Magic is as different from Spellsongs as it is to Martial Arts, except in different directions if that makes any sense.”

She dug into her meal before it grew cold again. Dame Verilyn continued stacking coins. She emptied the third and final pouch before Nemel finished breakfast.

“What are all those coins, anyway,” Nemel leaned back in her seat. “Did Zu Chiru do a lot of business in the tavern yesterday?”

“Ah, no – he does his own accounting,” Dame Verilyn replied, “This is from the work I did last night.”

Nemel eyed the stacks of gold coins, then she eyed Dame Verilyn’s beautiful elven figure. She wouldn’t be surprised if she could earn even more than that – no, what was she thinking?

“What sort of work did you do?” Nemel asked.

“Jobs for the local Adventurer Guild,” Dame Verilyn answered. “There were three commissions conveniently close to one another.”

A Dragon Adventurer. And a Knight. And an ‘agent’ for the Sorcerous Kingdom. And a prodigious Bard who composed her own Spellsongs. Was there anything that she wasn’t? She may as well be a protagonist from Dreams of Red.

“What were the requests about?”

“They all asked for the removal of one problem or the other,” Dame Verilyn pointed to an empty bag. “This one was for a Giant Purple Worm in a swamp to the southeast. It will probably be the biggest earner, but we’ll see what everything comes out to after the Merchant Guild dismantles the corpse and sells everything. The Alchemists were particularly ecstatic since its blood can be used to brew high-quality antidotes to meet the current shortages.”

Giant Purple Worms were Magical Beasts that measured over thirty metres long. Not only was the blood used for alchemy, but they had potent venom used by Rogues and Rangers and hides that could be fashioned into leather equipment with roughly the protection of chain mail. Nemel wasn’t sure what the other parts of it could be used for, but tradespeople usually made the most out of powerful creatures.

Not only had Dame Verilyn been paid to kill it, but the kill itself was extraordinarily valuable. If it were a regular Adventurer party that had accepted the commission, a great deal of money would have been spent to prepare everything that was needed to face a Giant Purple Worm and multiple attempts might be required. After the kill, there would be costs for the treatment of injuries, ailments, and repairs for damaged equipment. Dame Verilyn was so strong that she might have not incurred any costs at all, turning the venture into pure profit.

Dragons were always associated with hoards of treasure. Maybe some just earned it by killing stupidly powerful things and selling the parts.

“What were the other two jobs?”

“This one was for a druidic circle in the small forest to the southeast,” Dame Verilyn indicated another bag. “They were defending the last vestiges of the great forest that once covered the lands between here, Awintar, and Engelfurt from encroaching development. There were about sixty of them, but they were spread out around the forest and easy to pick off.”

Nemel’s mouth fell open in horror.

“That…that’s evil!”

“It was a commission from the Imperial Administration,” Dame Verilyn said. “The same Imperial Administration that you once served. Hmm…maybe that’s another reason why they keep Adventurers and Workers around. They will be attributed to the results of these commissions and the Empire gets to keep its image clean in the eyes of its citizens. Anyhow, the last job was for a family of Hill Giants.”

“…to the southeast.”

“I did say they were conveniently close to each other.”

“Those weren’t the ones that you scented on the way here, were they?”

“They were. There are plenty of Giants in the world, but they’re nowhere near as prolific as weaker races. Given the extent of Human development in the region, I would say that the area in and around the forest was what little remained of their original territory. The lack of apparent conflict between themselves and the forest’s residents suggests that they were working together with the druidic circle from the other commission to defend it.”

A wave of anger flashed through Nemel. She found herself standing abruptly to pace around the room.

“I can’t believe you!” She fumed, “What happened to everything we talked about before? Was it all a lie?”

“I wouldn’t lie about something like that.”

“Then why did you do it? The Druids…the Hill Giants…what about killing them is in line with anything that you’ve shared with me?”

“They were dead anyway.”

Nemel stopped to level a glare at the Frost Dragon seated behind her stacks of coins.

“How?”

“Because the Empire wanted them dead,” Dame Verilyn shrugged. “That is what Adventurer Guild commissions of this nature are, yes? Assassination contracts. If not me, it would have been some other suitably powerful Adventurer or combination thereof. If not an Adventurer or Worker team, the Empire would eventually deploy the Undead forces currently being delivered to them by the Sorcerous Kingdom. The result was inevitable: I just happened to be the one to take what they were offering to do the deed.”

Dame Verilyn rose to her feet, sweeping the gold coins into her magical container.

“It is just as I said: Human simplicity. The vast majority of Humans here divide the world between what they can control and what they believe they cannot. The Baharuth Empire is no different in this regard. I have watched that forest slowly dwindle from my home in the mountains for over a century. I didn’t know why it kept shrinking back then, but I do now. It was a resource to be exploited and its inhabitants were an obstacle to Human ‘development’.

“This nation has employed the means at its disposal to address its ‘problem’. The Empire has finally succeeded in ridding the forest of the last of its staunchest defenders and the thousands of inhabitants who depended on their protection will be driven from their homes by the Imperial Army, captured as slaves, or exterminated outright. Once the Empire is done, all that will remain of that ancient woodland are pockets of Human-managed copses amidst an expanse of farms for retired soldiers.”

Beaten into helpless frustration by Dame Verilyn’s words, Nemel sniffed and scrubbed her tear-stained cheeks with a hand.

“I am pleased that you have purged yourself of this unhealthy worldview, Nemel Gran,” Dame Verilyn strode towards the door. “Your new frame of mind will be of immense assistance to you in the Sorcerous Kingdom.”