Valkyrie's Shadow

The Tiger and the Dragon: Act 2, Chapter 6

The Tiger and the Dragon: Act 2, Chapter 6

Chapter 6

7th Day, Upper Wind Month, 1 CE

“Red or black?”

“Red, of course!”

“What are we doing with the black ones?”

“Hanging them all around the walls. We can’t have people staring at the inside of the hull.”

Liane frowned at the pitch-black fabric over her arm, and then she looked at the barge’s steel hull. Each component was as glossy as the day it had been imbued with its runes, dully reflecting the magical lighting placed about the hold.

“Look,” Liane said. “Normally I’d agree with ya. Hell, I wouldn’t even ask. But this is different. The entire ship’s made outta steel – enchanted steel. That’s something you gotta show off.”

Florine looked up from where she was sorting through a crate of paintings.

“That assumes they even have an appreciation for what they see,” she said. “Maybe Dwarves, metalworkers and Merchants would be able to tell at a glance, but we’re talking about Human Nobles here. They’re only going to see an ugly metal wall.”

“Grr…”

“Grr…” Florine grr’d back.

“This is just a backup, right?” Liane said, “Just in case the country’s levelled to the ground when we get there. Otherwise, it’s our little secret base.”

Some sort of news should have arrived if that had happened…unless it had happened recently. Still, news of dire developments indicating a turn for the worse should have come through well in advance. Since that hadn’t happened, things were probably following the usual back and forth between the Draconic Kingdom and their Beastman neighbours. With that being the case, they should be decorating things to suit their own preferences and not those of others.

One of the barges in their fleet had been set aside to use as an emergency office. Its cargo hold had been converted into a work area in one half and a shared bedroom in the other. A kitchen and rooms for some household staff had been installed into the bridge structure. They would use it for as long as necessary, but chances were that they wouldn’t use it at all so it was more of an experiment in functionality and design for future vessels.

Liane tossed a crimson bolt of cloth from the crate in front of her onto a nearby couch. A flicker of movement caught her eye and she turned to see a Shadow Demon floating at the bottom of the stairs to the main deck.

“What’s goin’ on?” She asked.

“This one has come with a delivery,” the glowing yellow gash that was its mouth split open as it spoke. “Compliments of Lord Demiurge.”

The Shadow Demon produced a ceramic jar a bit larger than Liane’s palm. She picked it up and read the label.

“Wow, he actually found some.”

“Found some what?” Florine came over.

She held up the jar at eye level. Florine’s eyes scanned the label. Their time wandering around Ludmila’s territory had baked the both of them even more, so the delivery of the difficult-to-obtain eraser cream was a welcome thing.

“Does it work?”

“Dunno,” Liane said. “Let’s see…”

Liane fished out a handkerchief from her Infinite Haversack and unscrewed the lid of the jar. She sniffed the white cream inside experimentally before covering her fingers with the handkerchief to scoop some of it out.

“Hmm…”

She went over to rub a bit on a painting that Florine had selected. The area around where she applied the cream vanished, leaving a stretch of clear canvas.

“Woah…is this safe for people to use?”

“It looks like it worked.”

“It stripped the paint right off that thing! That can’t be healthy. I was right to call it disintegration cream.”

“Just try a bit.”

A bit. Who would ‘try a bit’ of something that can do that?

Liane scooped out some more. She stared at it for a long moment before her eyes slid over to the Shadow Demon. It fled up the stairs the moment she raised her fingers towards it.

“See?” Liane said, “Even Demons are scared of this stuff!”

“I’m fairly certain that it was scared of you,” Florine told her.

“Huh? Why? Mmh…this stuff was made by the Holy Queen, right? Maybe it has some holy stuff in it that Demons don’t like…hey, we should try rubbing some on Ludmila.”

Florine snatched the jar from her hands. She sniffed the cream carefully before applying some to her forearm.

“I can’t believe you could just smear that stuff on after seeing that,” Liane said.

“It’s from Lord Demiurge,” Florine replied. “He wouldn’t purposely bring genuine harm to his allies.”

“How do you know that?”

“He told me.”

Liane frowned a long frown at Florine.

“Are you suggesting that Lord Demiurge lied to me?” Florine asked.

“He’s a Devil,” Liane answered.

“Weren’t you the one accusing me of being ‘racist’ the other day? He might be a Devil, but he’s a nice, reliable man.”

The tanned skin of Florine’s arm lightened to its usual complexion. In addition to returning to normal, it had become more beautiful somehow. Her friend smiled.

“See?” She said, “There was nothing to worry about. Come to the bedroom and help me make sure I get everything.”

“You’re doing me too, right?”

“Of course,” Florine rolled her eyes. “Let’s get this done quick – we still have a lot of work to do.”

Two hours later, they finished figuring out arrangements for the office and returned to the main deck. It was yet another sunny evening in the Duchy of E-Rantel and a refreshing breeze swept over Corelyn Harbour. All but the vessel that they were on and the one assigned to transport goods from Warden’s Vale had already been loaded and sent to the refurbished harbours in Lagaš. Their surroundings had returned to the quiet port of previous months, though the equipment for the new cargo system stood by silently for its next job.

“How–”

“GYAH!”

Liane nearly jumped overboard. Heart trying to leap out of her throat, she turned to shout at Ludmila.

“Don’t creep up on me like that!”

“I didn’t ‘creep up’ on you,” Ludmila replied. “I was already standing here. If I really wanted to, I could–”

“Let’s not go over what horrors you’d visit on me,” Liane said. “We already have enough trouble ahead of us to think about.”

Friend or not, scary was scary. Liane already suspected that they would have nightmares from their work in the Draconic Kingdom. A country that was regularly raided by predatory Demihumans was bound to have disturbing scenes aplenty.

“Do you truly believe it will be that bad?” Ludmila asked.

“You heard that Blacksmith of yours,” Liane answered. “Unlike our cute and cuddly Demihuman friends here in the Sorcerous Kingdom, we’re going to be dealing with the Demihumans that everyone imagines Demihumans to be.”

“You won’t be,” Ludmila told her. “I will. Only after things are secure will you three be brought in.”

“That might be so,” Liane said, “but we’re still gonna see the aftermath of whatever’s been goin’ on.”

Her stomach grew queasy just thinking about it. Whenever Bards rendered tales in Human lands, Demihumans were divided into three broad categories.

The first were the ones that were portrayed as minor threats: Demihumans that were most common in their region of the world and were characterised as some combination of weak, stupid, chaotic, brutish and unsophisticated. Races like Ogres and Goblins that were defeated hundreds or even thousands at a time in exciting tales of Adventure.

Liane tended to think that they were used in stories to make Humans feel better about themselves; give them some ubiquitous foes that could be dangerous but were outmatched by Human intellect, artifice and discipline. When the Sorcerous Kingdom annexed E-Rantel and Demihumans started arriving to reside in the city, however, she found that the very same Demihumans being slaughtered in those stories enjoyed those stories greatly as well. She had no idea how to feel about it and couldn’t even begin to understand why that was.

Another category consisted of the Demihumans that were so powerful that they may as well be monsters. True Giants such as Frost Giants, Sea Giants, Fire Giants, Stone Giants and Storm Giants were included in their number, as were races like the Orthrous, Zoastia and Nagaraja. Since they may as well be monsters, they were framed as such and thus there was a sense of ‘detachment’ from the threat that they represented. They were treated as a force of nature that regular people stayed safely away from; a monumental challenge for heroes to overcome.

Finally came the Demihumans that seemed to be hand-picked from the primal nightmares of humanity. Beings of savage intelligence and cunning who saw Humans as nothing more than helpless prey to be picked off and eaten at their leisure. The Beastman Kingdom neighbouring the Draconic Kingdom was primarily populated by this sort of Demihuman, and all Liane could think about were the gruesome and horrifying tales that were attached to them.

“There might not be as much of an ‘aftermath’ as you think,” Florine said. “They may be holding out just fine and we’ve been instructed to time things for maximum effect, yes? We shouldn’t get ahead of ourselves.”

“Regardless of what we find,” Ludmila said. “It is what it is. Our duties remain unchanged.”

A twinge of envy rose out of Liane’s discomforting thoughts. She wished that she could have even a tenth of her friend’s unflinching resolve.

“Where’s Clara?” Florine asked.

“She stayed at home,” Ludmila answered.

“That’s weird,” Liane said. “Clara always sticks to you whenever she can.”

“That only happens when our time together is limited,” Ludmila replied. “She obviously can’t ‘stick to me’ every hour of every day.”

“If she heard that, she’d take it as a challenge.”

They disembarked from the ship, making their way over to an awaiting carriage. The Soul Eater took them out of the harbour and up onto the highway at a casual canter, passing several slower vehicles on the way to Castle Corelyn.

“How long did you wait for us?” Florine asked.

“Not more than half an hour,” Ludmila answered. “It wasn’t a problem.”

“You coulda come down to join us,” Liane said. “Did you stand at the top of the stairs the entire time? You might be Undead now, but you’re not a Death-series servitor.”

“I was taking advantage of the opportunity to watch the harbour,” Ludmila replied. “The Draconic Kingdom is a coastal nation so it’s probably a good thing to get accustomed to similar environments.”

The ever-vigilant Frontier Noble.

It felt that, rather than her Undead state changing her, it allowed Ludmila to become more ‘Ludmila’. She was always a sort of constant back when they were kids, but she was even more so now. While it was reassuring to have such a friend, Liane couldn’t help but feel guilty over the sense that Ludmila did her best for everyone even when no one was watching or even aware of it. They would never know how much they truly owed her because she was about as forthcoming as a boulder at the bottom of a waterlogged ditch when it came to her personal achievements.

“Lady Shalltear said that even Undead get mentally weary,” Florine noted. “You should relax a bit while you can.”

“I can relax when I’m fighting and there will probably be plenty of that.”

Or not. I take everything back. She’s a battle maniac.

“How can fighting be relaxing?” Florine gave Ludmila a perplexed look, “Everyone is trying to hurt you.”

“Everyone is trying to kill me,” Ludmila corrected her. “If I were to describe it…being in a battle is like reading a good book. Maybe.”

Liane and Florine stared incomprehensibly at the crazy woman sitting across from them. Ludmila visibly squirmed under their combined gaze.

“It just comes naturally to me,” she said. “I don’t have to think about every little thing. It’s not as if I’m just mindlessly fighting, either – there are goals to work toward along the way and what I do affects meaningful change. Surely you two have things that you enjoy that might seem stressful to others.”

“Maaaaybe,” Liane said. “But we don’t leave a bloody trail of corpses in our wake.”

“That’s not true,” Florine said.

Liane turned to look at her childhood friend.

“I-it’s not?”

“Just because we don’t kill people directly doesn’t mean that we don’t affect the lives of many with what we do. We love to socialise, negotiate, grow our fiefs and see to the ventures that we charter. Every contract – whether we agree to it or not – influences everyone involved and those involved with them and so on. As Merchants, we seek to grow our businesses, but there are many hidden costs that we aren’t aware of.”

“But that’s how it always is,” Liane said.

“That’s right,” Florine replied. “It is. But most Merchants are small and powerless, as are most Nobles. We aren’t small in that sense anymore, nor are we powerless…and we get bigger and more powerful every day. One day, no – now, the stroke of a pen can just as easily save millions or seal their fates. In a single moment, we can destroy more than what would take Ludmila an entire war to match.

“We can’t think like little Merchants or Nobles anymore. We need to think big like Clara; understand as much as we can about what our choices may bring about and whether the outcomes of those choices are ultimately what we want to achieve. In just a year, we have gotten to the point where we can act and the world transforms. It is both exciting and frightening at the same time, and only our superiors and those closest to us see the change that we are going to unleash upon the world.”

“Uh…what were we talking about again?” Liane asked.

“Relaxing,” Ludmila answered.

The carriage rolled to a stop in front of the entrance to Clara’s home. A pair of House Corelyn’s footmen opened the carriage doors and led them inside, where they found their lady’s maids awaiting them. The three of them looked somewhat disgruntled at being left behind, but there was more work for them to do in the palace than there was in the harbour.

“Did anything happen while we were away?” Liane asked.

“An Elder Lich from the Royal Army reported four Wyverns crossing over the Katze Plains,” Rose answered. “They should be here by sunset.”

Liane exchanged looks with Florine and Ludmila. It seemed that Chief Venomscale was on his way.

They split up to prepare for the Wyvern Riders’ arrival. Liane and Florine used the facilities in the state rooms on the third floor before meeting on the palace roof. Their steps slowed as they approached the large building at the end of the long walkway leading from the stairs.

Since Lady Shalltear now had a number of vassals in the duchy, she decided to construct an official, physical court in Clara’s rooftop garden. It was a central location for the four of them and, while affording them distance from the capital, it was not far from E-Rantel. As scions of minor houses, the idea of a physical court held an undeniable allure: it was a locale that they could never have frequented in their old lives – a place of power and influence beyond their meagre means.

A Vampire Bride awaited them at the front of the building. Rather than having a single set of doors at the front, it had two: one leading north and the other leading south. The Vampire Bride gestured toward the northern doors before leading them down a five-metre-long hallway to another set of doors. Through them was a modestly-furnished drawing room that measured five metres to a side.

“This room is as far as your lady’s maids are allowed to go,” the Vampire Bride said. “There are sleeping chambers in the back should they require them. Miss Aramis and Miss Luzi are in an identical area opposite this one. They may visit with one another if they wish.”

Liane and Florine stopped and looked at the Vampire Bride.

“These instructions are from our mistress,” the Vampire Bride explained. “For future reference, only your lady’s maids and personal Shadow Demons are allowed on the rooftop garden out of your respective households.”

“That’s, uh, very exclusive?”

“To personally attend to Lady Shalltear is an honour which is second only to attending to His Majesty the Sorcerer King,” the Vampire Bride replied. “Only those closest to our mistress are permitted to enter the chambers within.”

Their Shadow Demons separated from them, moving to meld into the shadows of the room. The Vampire Bride turned to bring Liane and Florine through another pair of doors that led further inside. They followed the next hallway south, which led to another pair of doors.

“That’s four sets of doors so far,” Liane said. “Why are there so many?”

“So the sounds from inside do not escape,” the Vampire Bride replied. “Our mistress can be quite energetic, at times.”

“We can use magic to soundproof things, yeah?”

“Using magic to solve everything lacks elegance,” the Vampire Bride told them. “Physical things are more…sensuous. Ah – but those Clean items that you provided were very nice. Certain stains and odours are very difficult to remove without them.”

They found a small, dimly-lit antechamber past the fourth set of doors. Opposite a long plush bench was another set of doors carved out of the same, pure-white limestone of the palace walls.

“The Court of Lady Shalltear Bloodfallen,” the Vampire Bride told them. “Lady Zahradnik and Lady Corelyn are already inside.”

“I’ve been thinking…” Liane said, “If this is Lady Shalltear’s court, but no one but a select few can enter, how does she hold court with petitioners who aren’t a part of those select few?”

Crimson light from the Vampire Bride’s crimson eyes winked in the dim lighting as she tilted her head curiously and blinked several times.

“Why would our mistress see those whom she does not wish to see?”

Did that make any sense? Courts were places where a Noble conducted business both mundane and extraordinary. It was where they were at their most powerful and all that they were was brought to bear on those who came to see them. Lady Shalltear was impressive enough without needing any of that and since she was something like a martial Noble: she was not at her most powerful in any civilian court, but on the battlefield.

Maybe it’s like an office…?

“This is quite exciting, isn’t it?” Florine said, “It’s like a dream come to life.”

While Florine’s thoughts seemed to be in an entirely different place than Liane’s, she had to admit that it was. They had gone from unexpectedly inheriting their humble houses to becoming the councillors of a highlord so stupendously powerful that they didn’t even bother trying to imagine the extent of her power. It was beyond a dream and she couldn’t quite figure out how it happened. They just worked like crazy and suddenly they were here.

“When dreams become reality,” Liane mused, “what new dreams await?”

The doors whispered open as the Vampire Bride pressed her palms against them. Liane felt a brush against her fingers and she gripped Florine’s hand as they entered. It didn’t matter what came, so long as her friends were with her.

Veils of gossamer silks were draped from the ceiling, obscuring the interior from them. They followed the Vampire Bride over the polished white floors as the lighting grew even dimmer. The barest traces of a sweet fragrance lingered in the air – one that seemed to heighten her senses as she made out the details of the chamber.

The doorway led into an open area roughly eight metres wide and ten metres long. On the sides of that area, the floor was elevated a metre above it. Straight ahead, the floor was two metres high and a large plush chair – or was it a small throne? – loomed over the court.

A set of stairs provided access to the area above on her right and left. Tall shelves lined the walls, between which four openings obscured in the same gossamer silks led to rooms beyond. A pair of desks lined either side of the approach to the throne. On the south side, Clara and Ludmila gazed down from where they were seated behind theirs.

“Where’s Lady Shalltear?” Liane asked.

The Vampire Bride quietly cleared her throat.

“When within these chambers,” she said, “you shall refer to her as Mistress Shalltear, or simply ‘Mistress’.”

“Mistress Shalltear is not in,” Clara said.

“Mistress Shalltear will arrive when Mistress Shalltear’s court finishes receiving its furnishings,” Ludmila added. “Those two desks across from us are yours, by the way.”

Liane released Florine’s hand, making her way up the set of three steps to her right. She drew aside the nearly transparent silks dividing the way to one of the chambers. It appeared to be empty.

“What goes in here?” Liane asked.

“That’s Florine’s chamber,” Clara answered. “Yours is the other one on that side.”

“That means the desk over there is mine?”

“Yes.”

She walked along the bookshelves behind their desks, both of which were fashioned from polished obsidian. Rather than a chair, each had a lounge bench that was raised on one end. Liane checked the drawers of her desk, which were as empty as the desktop. Her room was empty too. She gazed up at the chair overlooking the court, then to what looked like a huge bed behind it.

“That’s Lady–erm, Mistress Shalltear’s seat up there?”

“Yes,” Ludmila replied. “We aren’t allowed up there unless our mistress grants us permission to join her.”

Liane nodded to herself. Overall, it had the nice, stratified feeling of a court with clearly-defined rules and boundaries. She seated herself at her desk, pulling out a sheet of paper and testing the writing surface. It was too hard for her tastes.

“What can we bring in here?” Liane asked.

“Work,” Ludmila answered, “personal effects, a small wardrobe…we can have food delivered as well.”

“But we have to get it at the door…so we’re basically ladies-in-waiting here?”

That was at least something they were all trained to do from childhood. Ludmila nodded.

“The Vampire Brides will see to most of it, but we are to act in that function if necessary and if called upon.”

“What other rules are there?”

“Our mistress is still ‘thinking about it’,” Ludmila smirked. “We just heard the ones you were told about just now when we came up here.”

“I thought to have Chief Venomscale land on the roof here,” Clara said. “But we’ll have to receive him elsewhere.”

Liane bounced several times in her seat and then turned to lay down. It was pretty comfortable. She stared at the ceiling, which was painted black and obscured in more layers of gossamer. The magical lighting nestled within the silken folds overhead shone through dimly with soft red light.

“Who else is allowed in here, by the way?” Liane asked.

“Aside from us,” Ludmila answered, “His Majesty the Sorcerer King, Lady Aura, Lord Mare, Ilyshn’ish and the Vampire Brides.”

“That’s it?”

“For now. Our mistress will invite individuals as she sees fit, of course.”

“It’s most likely that we’ll be entertaining the vast majority of dignitaries in the palace facilities below,” Clara said. “These chambers are for her ‘inner circle’.”

“Oh,” Florine said, “that’s just the thing you love, isn’t it, Liane? A secret base.”

“I guess…”

With Chief Venomscale due to arrive, they rose from their seats and left the court. Their Maids and Shadow Demons rejoined them as they went outside.

“If Lady Shalltear’s court is here,” Liane said, “does that mean this is Lady Shall–our mistress’ garden? What’s she gonna put here?”

“I think she’s leaving it to Lord Mare,” Clara replied. “Though she did say something about a pool…”

“A pool?”

“The way that she described it, it sounded like a large, open-air bath.”

Liane frowned at the mental image, scanning the surroundings. People wouldn’t be able to see them from below, but the Elder Lich patrols flying around would get a good eyeful.

“She wants us to run around naked outside?”

“Our mistress mentioned that there were special outfits for it,” Clara said. “And something about ‘mizugikai’.”

She looked at Ludmila, who shook her head unknowingly. Maybe it was some sort of ritual from wherever Lady Shalltear came from. Their liege was a Cleric, after all.

“What do we have planned for Chief Venomscale?”

“‘Default’, for now,” Clara shook her head. “I should have asked you two about it. Is there anything we should avoid?”

“Like the other Human cultures in the region,” Florine said, “they have a patriarchal structure of governance and inheritance. Families, however, are matrifocal.”

“To what degree does this affect power dynamics?”

“Quite a bit more than ours,” Florine replied. “Their tribal laws are mostly founded in the practicalities of their environment. This is merely conjecture, but they haven’t reached a stage where arbitrary constructs based on ‘tradition’ have consolidated political and economic power to men. Their treatment of us during our visit was better than we received in the Empire or even with our own subjects.”

By ‘better’, Florine meant ‘egalitarian’. The prejudices and expectations of women ingrained into the northern Human cultures were next to nonexistent in the Wyvern Rider Tribes, which felt pretty weird to Liane. It also meant that they wouldn’t give women any of the ‘gentlemanly’ considerations they were accustomed to unless they were pregnant. During their stay in their territories, Liane and Florine had to carry their own things around and there was no such thing as ‘ladies first’.

“But there aren’t any specific roles expected of various professions, yes?” Clara asked, “They won’t take offence at being attended to by my household staff or have any hierarchical constructs that demand a certain order to things?”

“There is a respect for seniority,” Florine answered, “both in terms of age and vocational mastery. Our version of diplomatic decorum should serve. Since you’ve resorted to the default reception, they should behave in close approximation to polite guests here.”

A ‘default reception’ referred to the regular hospitality that a Noble provided to their guests. Regardless of their social standing, they were fed, afforded accommodations and guaranteed protection for the duration of their stay. So long as they behaved themselves, of course.

“That’s what we have to work with, then…let me know if you sense that I’m doing something wrong. You too, Ludmila.”

“Me?”

“The Wyvern Rider Tribes are a warrior culture…I think?”

Clara looked over to Liane and Florine, who nodded in return.

“If that’s the case,” Clara said, “you’ll probably notice many things that we don’t. You’re always going on about the differences between martial cultures and civilian ones, aren’t you?”

They went out into the eastern palace, where they found Dix waiting for them in the atrium.

“Have we figured out where we’ll be receiving their Wyverns?” Clara asked.

“Atop the palace gatehouse,” the Elder Lich answered. “They will arrive within thirty minutes.”

Twenty minutes later, they watched as four Wyverns made a circular descent over the ‘killing field’ of Corelyn Castle. The large, Dragon-like creatures alighted along the ramparts, gripping the stone with hind claws that could easily grasp Liane around the waist. A man with a bronze tan beneath his olive-scaled vest smoothly dismounted, landing lightly before them.

?Didn’t you say that the air was cold when you flew around??

?It is. Those tattoos that they have confer all sorts of enchantments. One of them does Endure Elements.?

The tattoos in question were shamanic totems inked in intricate detail over their toned, muscular bodies. They served as marks of veterancy amongst warriors – Chief Venomscale had seven of them and each of the other riders had at least five. The other men arrayed themselves behind the Chief, open hands hanging loose at their sides.

“High Chief Wagner,” the Wyvern Rider Chief said in his soft, yet firm voice. “The task is complete.”

Chief Venomscale took off the satchel hanging over his shoulder, holding it out towards her by its leather strap. Liane produced a pouch of gold trade coins from her Infinite Haversack.

“Did you run–er, fly into any trouble?”

“Whether we did or did not does not alter our agreement,” Chief Venomscale peered at her with his azure eyes. “You speak differently from the last time…”

“She’s just trying to make small talk,” Florine smiled. “Providing an opening for banter and indicating her willingness to renegotiate the agreement if unforeseen difficulties arose.”

“There is no need,” the Chief told them. “All was as anticipated.”

They made the exchange and Chief Venomscale started counting out the coins right in front of them. Clara looked over at Liane.

?What’s going on? You didn’t do something when you first met them, did you??

?What! Of course not! Well, kinda…?

Clara frowned.

?We just talked about trade here and I mentioned how some people might try and cheat others. They’re being careful like we told ‘em to.?

Ludmila reached out and pulled a scroll out of the satchel in Liane’s hands.

?They don’t have Merchants? If they had brought one it would have saved them the trouble.?

?Nothing like ours. They have a barter economy and coinage doesn’t mean much to them since they mostly keep to themselves. It’ll take some time for them to open up to our stuff.?

Another scroll left the satchel. Then another. With each, the furrow on Ludmila’s brow deepened.

“What’s wrong?” Florine asked.

In response, Ludmila retrieved the satchel and knelt to the stone. She unfurled the scrolls – which were each a small map – piecing them together into a larger whole. Liane, Florine and Clara leaned forward to examine it.

The map of the Draconic Kingdom was as Liane had requested, detailing not only urban centres and major roads as Merchant maps did, but also a detailed accounting of forests, plains, hills, rivers and lakes. In addition, what the Wyvern Riders could identify of the Beastman Kingdom’s forces was included. Except…

“This…can’t be right, can it?” Liane said, “How does this work?”

“The lines mark the extent of the Beastman Kingdom’s advance,” Ludmila’s fingers traced the map. “A few different armies have gathered to besiege those cities and towns there.”

“But what about the rest?” Clara said, “Those armies are nearly up to the Katze Plains. Are they ignoring everything else?”

As Clara had noted, the maps were clear save for where markings were made around roughly half the urban centres of the Draconic Kingdom. Of the defending forces, there was no sign.

“No,” Ludmila shook her head. “This war is essentially over. All the Beastmen have to do is take those cities and their conquest will be complete.”