Valkyrie's Shadow

The Tiger and the Dragon: Act 4, Chapter 2

The Tiger and the Dragon: Act 4, Chapter 2

Chapter 2

11th Day, Upper Wind Month, 1 CE, 0700 Hours

The cries of gulls mixed with the lapping of the waves against the rocky pier. Ludmila alighted on the wooden walkway beside Ruin’s Wake, touching her fingers lightly to her hull.

“Good morning,” she said.

A light glow played over the Ghost Ship’s length in response. Booted steps sounded from above and a tall figure looked down from the railing.

“Baroness!” Captain Iškur called down gaily, “It’s always good to see you again.”

“Captain Iškur,” Ludmila smiled in greeting, “I thought you’d be wandering around the city now that they finally aren’t trying to chase you away.”

“I wanted to!” The Elder Lich replied, “Got about as far as the wharf before Miss Marchand glared me straight back into my cabin. Said I’d ‘disrupt business’.”

Ludmila’s gaze followed the procession of Skeleton Warriors unloading cargo from Ruin’s Wake. At the end of the pier, a woman in Merchant’s garb stood at a table, speaking with a slightly differently-garbed man. Behind the man were more Merchants forming a long line that stretched along the waterfront.

“That’s strange…”

“No kidding!” Iškur growled, “I’m an upstanding member of civilised society! Why would I ‘disrupt business’?”

“I don’t believe that you purposely would,” Ludmila said, “but that wasn’t what I was commenting on. Why is trade being conducted on the pier?”

“To be honest,” the Elder Lich said, “that’s how I thought things worked before we actually went into business.”

While common folk who bought goods from stalls and shops might believe that to be the case, it generally wasn’t. With even a single wagon, negotiations were conducted through representatives who usually placed orders in advance or dealt in large quantities through the Merchant Guild or its affiliates. Even non-Merchants bringing goods into the city went to have them assessed by the Guilds and conducted their business through the relevant organisations.

Those who handled large volumes – Nobles, Merchant caravans, shipping fleets and urban wholesalers – did not operate like plaza stalls or roadside peddlers. It was simply too inefficient and time-consuming.

“I’ll be heading into the city to take care of some things,” Ludmila told the Elder Lich. “You may accompany me if you wish, but I’m going to see what’s going on with Miss Marchand first.”

Ludmila concealed her presence and made her way over to stand near the goods unloaded behind Miss Marchand’s stall. She frowned as she watched the same Merchant from before loom over the young woman sitting behind her table.

“I’ll take everything!”

“I’m sorry, sir, but–”

“I’ll pay more than the rest of these mooks combined!”

A barrage of curses rolled out from behind the man at his audacious offer.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, sir,” Miss Marchand replied. “Our rates are set and there is a hard limit of goods per wagon.”

“You’re just cheating yourself!” A fleck of spittle flew through the air, “What kind of Merchant are you?”

“If you’re not making a purchase, sir, then please make way for the next company.”

The Merchant tossed a bag of coins onto the table with an incensed huff. He jerked his head towards a set of men standing around a set of wagons nearby. After confirming the man’s order, the purser of the Ruin’s Wake led the labourers over to a neatly-ordered set of goods awaiting transport. She walked past the line of Skeleton Warriors guarding the cargo, but the men all stopped a dozen metres away.

Miss Marchand walked to the loading area before turning around. She looked over at the trembling labourers and let out a sigh.

“This all seems rather unorthodox,” Ludmila noted.

Miss Marchand jumped and whipped around so quickly that her glasses nearly flew off of her face. While dressed in the conservative fashion that was customary to the southern territories of the Sorcerous Kingdom, the form-fitting uniform couldn’t conceal the bounce of her ample figure. The young Merchant’s hand went up to right them and she peered at Ludmila for a moment before moving to fix her appearance, brushing back the long locks of her golden hair before replacing her black felt cap.

“Baroness Zahradnik,” she lowered herself into a respectful curtsey. “I was not aware that you had arrived in Blighthold.”

“I suppose your cargo handlers are not very talkative,” Ludmila smirked. “Those glasses you’re wearing are new, I think…”

“They are, my lady. I purchased them from Warden’s Vale a few weeks ago. They are quite nice.”

“What do they do?”

“Eyestrain prevention,” Miss Marchand replied, “which is a lifesaver with all the paperwork and inventory work I have to deal with. They also provide Darkvision up to ten metres.”

“I was not aware we were selling anything like that,” Ludmila said. “They are something undergoing research, but I did not expect anything practical so soon.”

Germaine LeNez had been tasked with various things, but they were all ‘side projects’ to her main job of running the faculties she was responsible for. One of those tasks was to produce high-quality Darkvision items that could match and eventually surpass those produced for the Imperial Army.

“I am no artisan, my lady,” Miss Marchand said, “but I think your people have a good sense for business. Many artisans get caught up in their own research and development and the idea that they want to make something ‘worthy’ of their effort. Snooty ‘pure mage’ types consider item production as something that they do on the side to fund their passions.”

“Well, I contracted artisans who were also Merchants. I also urged them to make practical things for my demesne.”

“That undoubtedly helps, but something else is going on. I cannot say it is any one thing, but there is a feeling in Warden’s Vale…I guess I get sort of the same feeling in certain other parts of the Sorcerous Kingdom, like in Corelyn Harbour and Wagner County’s new town. ‘The world is changing’ – that sort of feeling. No one wants to miss out.”

Was that how it was? Change was certainly occurring in the places she described, but Ludmila didn’t sense anything supernaturally extraordinary in it.

“Speaking of change,” Ludmila said, “Captain Iškur has been trying to trade at this port for over a century. He said that you chased him back onto Ruin’s Wake when he ran out to see the city.”

“That bony cat is too curious by far,” the purser muttered. “I can imagine his excitement, but we have a business to run first and foremost.”

“Why are you trading from a stall, anyway?”

Miss Marchand looked over at the still-frozen labourers, who were starting to receive jeers from the other men waiting to do business. She turned back and came close to Ludmila, leaning forward to speak in a low voice.

“This city is in a mess. I could feel it just from coming into port.”

Ludmila had felt it as well, though it had to do with a Noble’s sense for things rather than a Merchant’s. Blighthold wasn’t nearly as bad as Fassett County, but the place was clearly ailing. The entire Draconic Kingdom was like that, though she thought it was only to be expected given their situation. She supposed that a Merchant coming from the healthy and ever-more-prosperous lands of the Sorcerous Kingdom would be given pause by the distinct gap between the two countries.

“That is part of why we have come,” Ludmila told her. “To set things right again. The feeling will subside eventually and you can take pride in your role in restoring order to the Draconic Kingdom.”

Miss Marchand’s hand went to her breast, her fingers pinching at something under the fabric of her blouse.

“If Surshana wills it,” she said, “then His Will shall be done. Most of the problems here are more your field, though, my lady.”

“I suppose that’s what I’m about to go out and address,” Ludmila replied. “Have you been around the city?”

“I went to the Merchant Guild first,” the purser answered. “The staff is just…gone. The Guilds; the administration; the military…the entire ‘management level’ of Blighthold is gutted. I asked around to figure out what happened and the people say that everyone that the Beastmen thought was ‘useless’ was eaten. One is either someone who produces food or other essentials or they are livestock. Mature livestock is butchered from oldest to youngest.”

“The Merchants seem to be alive and well,” Ludmila looked pointedly towards the line at the table.

“They make a strange sort of exception for Merchants,” Miss Marchand said. “Merchants are allowed to convey a short list of permitted goods around the territory, but they are prohibited from leaving. I have always heard about how the countries out in the world treat Merchants differently, but I never imagined, well, everything else that is left unsaid.”

“Why was the Merchant Guild culled, then?”

“Because they are not considered Merchants, my lady,” Miss Marchand told her. “The staff there are administrators. Clerks, basically. Non-essential by Beastman standards.”

“I see.”

As Miss Marchand said, it was something one wouldn’t usually consider. Merchants from abroad spoke of being able to freely travel and conduct their business as long as they observed local customs and regulations. From their perspective, they were ‘fine’, but it didn't necessarily mean that everyone else was.

“I wonder how Blighthold maintains public order if that is the case.”

“I am not sure that they do,” the purser replied. “The ‘militia’ here are more like thugs working for bread. They do what their employers tell them to, which probably amounts to defending their personal property. I think that there is also some sort of pool for manning the fortifications, but that is about as close to normal duties as these men perform. That is why I set the Skeleton Warriors to guard things here – I do not expect any sort of proper law enforcement to exist.”

“That is probably a prudent measure,” Ludmila nodded. “Lady Corelyn would be interested in a report on the state of affairs here.”

“I will include everything in my report at the end of the day, my lady.”

One of the crates close by shifted. It appeared that the labourers had finally worked up the courage to cross the line of Skeleton Warriors.

“At any rate,” Miss Marchand said, “how we have been driven to handle things right now may be a blessing in disguise.”

“How so?”

“Well, I do not wish to sound like–HEY! Cross that line and I’m adding you to the crew!”

A labourer headed for a different pile of goods leapt back with a shriek. A nearby Skeleton Warrior turned its attention towards him. The man scurried away empty-handed past the line of pale-faced Merchants.

“Things like that,” Miss Marchand sighed. “The lawless state of the land has probably produced a bunch of brazen fellows. Some people do whatever they think they can get away with to gain an edge. You heard the Merchant from just now, too.”

“The one that was trying to buy everything? I know we set regulations for distribution, but why would he be so…belligerent about them?”

“Because the flow of goods here has slowed to a crawl, supply and demand place all of the easily movable assets – gold in this case, but also jewellery, art and other valuables – into the hands of those with essential goods. That Merchant is trying to monopolise this shipment so he can shift as much of the gold supply in the city to his company as possible. By doing so, he will have the greatest purchasing power and can monopolise the next shipment more easily.

“Do not get me wrong: I would normally be making them compete for my goods, but some of these people do not seem to care if the world burned as long as they could turn a copper coin from it. There are also those who love the feeling of power they hold over others when they have what everyone needs. Degenerate heretics, if you ask me.”

“Do you mean to imply that this would happen even if the administration was intact?”

“I do not know anything about them, my lady,” the purser replied, “so anything I say is simply based on what I have seen so far. If it was just the Merchant Guild, they would not stop their members from doing anything so long as it is legal and compliant with guild regulations. Moving goods and turning a profit is what Merchants do, after all. They would trade our goods back and forth between themselves until prices are high enough that they worry the next trade will leave them holding the bag. The people, of course, have no choice but to pay whatever prices the Merchants settle on. At least until they feel that they have no choice but to steal.”

“So the measures we’ve put in place prevent that?” Ludmila asked.

Since they lacked the resources to deliver goods to every corner of the Draconic Kingdom, Clara and the others would be relying on existing channels of distribution. They also set limits for each Merchant Company that dealt with them – presumably to ensure fairness.

“Not explicitly,” Miss Marchand said. “It just slows down the process. Selling everything to one Merchant company only gives them the buying power to dominate the next shipment without making them work for it. One or two more shipments will be needed to start making prices stick.”

“Why is that?”

Captain Iškur’s purser gave her an odd look before seeming to realise something.

“Well, right now these people still have a ‘siege mentality’. The idea that things are scarce makes them hoard what they can and it keeps prices high in their heads. Just telling them that more goods will be coming in will not work. We have to demonstrate that deliveries will continue by reliably performing them according to schedule. Once we have them accept that as the new reality, they will go from hoarding inventories to moving them so they can make room for the next shipment.”

“Will things go so smoothly?” Ludmila asked.

“I cannot speak for every Merchant, my lady,” Miss Marchand answered, “but it should be the general flow of things. Goods not being sold are not making a profit. Storage costs money. Sitting on their inventories in hopes that prices will stay high is a losing proposition because someone else will be selling into the demand. I do not expect it to all happen at once, but when the rest of our Merchants start arriving, they will guarantee that everyone falls in line.”

Ludmila nodded slowly as the Merchant spoke, not quite understanding everything that she was saying. Most of what she knew about trade were things that she picked up from Clara. As far as it went, she had the grasp of wide-scale economics that one might expect of a Noble, but the intricacies of trade and industry were something that she generally left to her friends or the people who worked in House Zahradnik’s companies.

While she was waging war against the Beastmen, her friends were waging a different sort of war – one that she didn’t think she would be much help in.

Once the first Merchant’s labourers finished moving their goods, Miss Marchand excused herself so she could deal with the next. The sound of clawed feet over the boards of the pier drew Ludmila’s attention to Captain Iškur, who had cast Invisibility on himself.

“I hope you’re aware that you can still be heard,” Ludmila said.

In response, the Elder Lich brought a clawed finger up to his fleshless lips, glancing at Mistress Marchand. Was she really so fearsome? Ludmila supposed that the purser could be intimidating in various ways.

They walked off the pier and followed the street lining the wharf. With the city harbouring three times its population and the arrival of Ruin’s Wake drawing curious onlookers, it was difficult to find a way past the crowds through which the Elder Lich invisibly following her could fit. A wagon loaded with newly-purchased cargo eventually trundled by and they followed the crowd that followed it up one of the main thoroughfares. When it turned down a side lane, Ludmila kept heading towards the city centre.

She wrinkled her nose as they made their way away from the waterfront and the air grew thick with the scent of squalor. One component of that squalor that was notably missing, however, was the lack of manure from livestock and draft animals.

“I wonder if the Beastmen ate all of the livestock first,” she muttered.

“I still see plenty of livestock around,” Captain Iškur said.

Ludmila threw a look over her shoulder at the Elder Lich.

“If draft animals and other livestock have been eaten,” she said, “there will be problems working the fields. Goods derived from that livestock will also be missing – not just meat and milk, but wool, leather, glue and products from whatever else they once raised here.”

“Well, I don’t know about all that animal product stuff, my lady, but can’t they just lease Undead labour as you do in the Sorcerous Kingdom?”

“While it would certainly please His Majesty,” Ludmila said, “there’s no guarantee that the Draconic Kingdom will so willingly adopt Undead labour. Hmm…drop your Invisibility.”

Screams echoed down the street as the nearby citizens nearly trampled one another to get away from the Elder Lich. Ludmila frowned as a wide ‘bubble’ devoid of Humans formed around them when they continued walking along.

“See?” She said, “You saved their city from the Beastmen and they’re still scared witless of you. I can’t imagine that the reception for Death-series servitors will be much better.”

“Hmph. How irrational. Humans are so finicky.”

“They will hopefully adapt in time,” Ludmila said. “Until then, you’ll likely be experiencing similar reactions to what you’ve seen here thus far. It’s not all uniform, though. I’m sure some will warm up to you sooner rather than later – you have quite the charming personality, after all.”

Their path took them past a dilapidated building with a familiar sign over the entrance. Ludmila stopped and exchanged a look with Captain Iškur.

“Not interested?” She asked.

“I did want to see what the Magician Guild in Blighthold had,” Captain Iškur answered, “but it looks like it’s about to fall apart.”

Ludmila went up the steps to test the wooden door, which hung awkwardly on its bottom hinge. After testing whether it would move normally, she lifted the door and pushed it aside. A voice drifted out from inside.

“How in the – aiiiieeee!!!”

A skinny man sitting at the reception counter leapt up in fright and dashed up the stairs.

“Rude,” Captain Iškur’s voice came down from behind her.

From the top of the stairwell, a hand with a stick pointed down at them.

“Come no further!” A trembling voice came down the stairs, “I have a wand and I know how to use it!”

“What kind of wand is it?” Captain Iškur asked curiously.

“It’s…” the wand turned to the side for a moment, then pointed back down at them, “A Wand of Magic Arrow! They don’t miss, you know? Plus, they hurt!”

“Technically, he’s not wrong,” the Elder Lich said. “What are we going to do, my lady?”

“I’m not even sure why we’re here anymore,” Ludmila replied.

“If you have no business with the Magician Guild,” the voice said, “then I suggest that you vacate the premises! Many powerful magic casters reside within: you should leave before you anger them!”

“Well,” Captain Iškur said, “now I’m even more interested.”

“G-go away!”

“We mean you no harm…” Ludmila said.

“That is in no way convincing with an Elder Lich standing there! Charming someone and having them speak for you won’t work, no matter how pretty they are!”

Ludmila looked at Captain Iškur. The Elder Lich took a step back.

“I-I swear I didn’t do anything of the sort, my lady!”

She rolled her eyes, stepping up onto the bottom of the stairs.

“Stop!” The wand trembled.

“Oh no,” Ludmila’s voice was flat. “The evil Elder Lich is sending me up against my will with his evil magic. I don’t want to die. Please don’t kill me. Boo hoo hoo.”

The wand dipped slightly.

“You vile fiend!” The voice cried, “Are there no limits to your depravity?!”

“Hey!” Captain Iškur said, “That’s not a nice thing to say to a lady!”

Ludmila reached up and snatched the wand away.

“I’m fairly certain he was addressing you,” she told the Elder Lich.

She finished going up to the second floor. Around the corner of the stairs, the skinny man cowered on the floor while six others looked down the hallway at her from the entrances of several rooms. The place smelled like it hadn’t been cleaned for a month or more. She brought her hand up to cover her mouth and nose.

“Don’t you have Clean spells?”

“We have more important things to learn!” Someone said defensively, “The mysteries of the arcane await no Wizard!”

“That’s right!”

“Begone, woman!”

Ludmila smacked the wand against the wall. The mages in the doorframes started and went into hiding. Ludmila stared down at the man on the floor, tapping the wand steadily against her thigh.

“Where is your Guildmaster?” She asked.

“D-dead,” the man answered. “She died last autumn.”

“Then who is the ranking member of this Magician Guild?”

“Me? Erm, that would be me.”

The man’s eyes followed his wand. He reached out for it. Ludmila switched him across the wrist.

“Ow!” He blushed.

A furrow formed on Ludmila’s brow. She gave the mage a long look before going back down the stairs, flipping the wand through the air towards Captain Iškur. The stick of wood bounced several times from claw to claw before the Elder Lich caught it.

“You’ll probably have better luck with them than me,” she said as she strode out the door. “Don’t break any laws – I need to go find whoever is in charge of the city now.”

She continued on her way deeper into the city, passing plazas packed with tents and makeshift dwellings formed out of scrap materials. A curious aroma caught her attention along the way, leading her to what looked like a skinned Beastman roasting over a fire. Dozens of people waited around with wooden bowls in their hands.

“That’s not something I see every day,” Ludmila said. “Did the watch kill it?”

A man nearby snorted.

“Those mooks on the wall don’t do shit. It’s when the Beastmen get into the city – they step into family turf and they come out as meat. Literally.”

Ludmila nodded thoughtfully, leaving the crowd behind.

Rangers…Urban Rangers? No, probably just Rogues.

Rogues in the Adventurer Guild or those serving governments in some capacity were probably the minority of a city’s total Rogue population. Most would ply their trade as something most would not recognise as a Rogues profession. They would also work as ‘private security’ or exist as members of what people considered ‘shady organisations’. Then there were the ones who unapologetically engaged in criminal activity.

A determined and organised force of Rogues would probably turn a city into a deathtrap for Beastmen who were unaccustomed to Human environs. It was something that she had never considered, but it made sense in hindsight.

In the largest plaza, she found a building with the markings of the city hall. The place had been turned into a makeshift keep with barricades and sentries all around. As with Seagate, the men on watch duty were completely oblivious to her presence.

Their conversation didn’t seem to amount to much. Mostly gossip, complaints and the occasional bit of local humour. The complaints were generally directed at those with resources and a few individuals that sounded like they had some sort of authority. Like everywhere else in the Draconic Kingdom that she had been, no one voiced any grievances with Queen Oriculus.

After a while, she entered the city hall. Men stationed in the foyer raised their spears at her sudden appearance. The spearheads just as quickly lowered, wavering in uncertainty.

She scanned the individuals present: aside from the makeshift security, those lounging further in did not have the air of Nobles, bureaucrats or anyone else that one would expect in an administrative office.

“I am Baroness Ludmila Zahradnik, chief of staff of the forces of the Sorcerous Kingdom in the Draconic Kingdom. Is Blighthold’s chief administrator present?”

Silence filled the foyer in the wake of her query. Several seconds later, one of the men spoke.

“What?”

“The mayor,” Ludmila replied. “Or perhaps the highest-ranked Noble?”

“They’re all dead. Long time ago.”

“Then who is in charge of the city?”

“Uh…”

“I’m in charge.”

A severe-looking man with streaks of grey in his hair came out from deeper within the building. While well-dressed, he did not carry himself as an aristocrat would. The sentries, however, did not challenge his statement.

“And you are…”

“Nedim,” the man replied. “What’s your business here?”

“I’ve come with instructions from the capital,” Ludmila said. “Please gather what remains of the administration as well as representatives from the Guilds and Temples. I also need to speak with the city militia and any surviving members of the Draconic Kingdom’s Royal Army.”

Nedim turned around.

“This way,” he said.

Ludmila followed the man into the central hall of the building, where furnishings had been placed in a manner akin to a lounge. Groups of men watched her from where they were seated. All of them were visibly armed, displaying sidearms at their belts while polearms and longswords rested close at hand.

Considering the situation they were in, it might be expected for even bureaucrats to equip themselves for battle, but they were clearly nothing of the sort.

“When is the last time this building has been attacked?” Ludmila asked.

“It gets attacked every week,” Nedim said. “But we’ve learned to keep the Beastmen out.”

“That’s quite admirable, all things considered. Does that mean you’ve also been able to maintain some semblance of order in Blighthold?”

They came to a table in the centre of the atrium. Nedim seated himself on a long couch on one side, resting a hand on each knee.

“So,” he leaned back. “What are these orders from the capital?”

Ludmila frowned slightly, glancing at the men gathered around them. The lighting was dim, but it didn’t matter to her. Those present, however, seemed to carry themselves with confidence in the shadowy surroundings.

“I don’t see anyone that might qualify as a Merchant, Priest or military officer here,” Ludmila noted.

“Look, lady,” Nedim folded his hands in front of him, “it’s simple. We’re in charge here. You need something done, you tell us and we tell everyone else.”

“Is that so?”

“It is so.”

Ludmila held the man’s cold gaze, considering her options. Given that the entire country had been turned upside-down, any number of things could have happened to the city. Ultimately, however, what she required was order.

She reached into the Infinite Haversack on her right hip, producing Queen Oriculus’ royal writ and placing it on the table in front of Nedim.

“By order of the Queen,” Ludmila projected her voice over the assembled men, “the City of Blighthold is to be barred and secured. Over the next few days, we will be driving the Beastmen out of the province to the north. The majority of the clan occupying that area has already been annihilated by our forces. The remainder of the Beastmen traversing the territory are merely refugees at this point, but they are still dangerous. We will not allow them any more time than necessary to linger, but they’ll pick up meals on the way through if you leave any opportunities for them to do so.”

Murmurs rose from around the hall. Nedim leaned forward, reaching out to pick up the royal writ.

“You ‘annihilated’ the clan north of us,” he said. “Why not finish off the rest?”

“Rest assured,” Ludmila replied, “not a single invader will remain in the Draconic Kingdom by the time we’re done.”

“‘Refugees’, huh,” Nedim eyed the seal on the royal writ. “You’re a cold lady, Zahradnik. I bet even the Undead would fear you.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” Ludmila smirked. “On that note, the Draconic Kingdom could use your services once we’re done here.”

The man rose from his couch, touching the royal writ to his breast and lowering his head in a bow. Those gathered around them followed suit.

“The Balik Family heeds the Queen’s command.”