Valkyrie's Shadow

Winter's Crown: Act 3, Chapter 19

Winter's Crown: Act 3, Chapter 19

Chapter 19

Ludmila considered showing Lady Shalltear around the now-completed farming village but, after imagining a pair of crazed Zurrernorn members jumping out of the Lichtower to do some unspeakably shameful thing to her liege, she decided against it.

They walked up the ramp to the warehouse section, making their way through the gatehouse and to the rows of grain silos waiting to be emptied. The straw from the harvest had been baled and stored away, and the chaff swept up for future use as well – more commodities that she had no cargo capacity for.

Both chaff and straw could be used as feed, and there were also many other uses for straw, but there was still simply too much that would build up until her shipping problems were alleviated. Timber and stone – also piling up faster than she could ship out – were far too valuable of an export in the duchy at this point, so everything else just collected endlessly. Timber and stone production would fall drastically after all of her planned clearing was done, but she suspected that something else would just end up taking up her scarce cargo space.

As time went on, it seemed that problems just had the tendency to be replaced by other problems. Her production issues were slowly being addressed, leading to storage and transportation problems. The boons presented by the Sorcerous Kingdom had clear advantages over past methods, but properly harnessing all that it offered was an ongoing struggle. She would probably have to rebuild the old bridge sooner rather than later, but it would still have to wait until the farming strip was fully cleared.

She checked around for anyone else in the storage area, but it appeared that they had shown up early. Clara was supposed to arrive by Gate, along with Lady Pestonya. The warehouse section was mostly empty, save for the Undead guarding the vicinity. Over the western wall drifted the sounds of the feast day festivities.

“How are things with the aerial transportation network, my lady?” Ludmila asked as they continued to wait.

“Uneventful,” Lady Shalltear replied. “Which is good in the sense that everything is operating according to schedule, but rather lacking in any excitement.”

“So the rumours of those Frost Giants haven’t turned out to be true?”

“Cocytus has reinforced the mountain roads,” Lady Shalltear told her, “and I’ve reorganized our deliveries to be less susceptible to singular attempts at destroying them. So far, there hasn’t been any significant change on their end, according to our observers. Despite their reputation as savage raiders, they appear to be quite organized when presented with a tangible threat. It will be interesting to see what they come up with, should they move at all.”

“I understand the desire for the Adventurer Guild to make their effort first,” Ludmila said, “but is it wise to be so passive? It feels like the Frost Giants are being given free opportunities to act throughout this wait.”

“It might seem that way,” Lady Shalltear told her, “but we aren’t allowing anything of the sort. Cocytus has taken command of the forces in the region, as a part of his ongoing desire to raise an official army for the Sorcerous Kingdom. Since these Frost Giants are stronger than most of our other neighbours, he’s been using this whole affair as an opportunity to see what sort of tactics they try to employ, and figure out how to defend against them…you have that look on your face again.”

Ludmila furrowed her brow, trying to figure out what ‘that look’ was with little success.

“Which look might that be, my lady?”

“The one that always appears when you’ve latched onto some crucial idea.”

“Do I truly have such a look?” Ludmila asked.

“You do,” Lady Shalltear answered. “It’s not very noticeable, but I’ve figured out quite a bit about you. So…what is it?”

“Is there still a shortfall of individuals capable of performing conventional reconnaissance in the Sorcerous Kingdom’s forces?”

“Not to the point where we’re incapable of defending ourselves,” Lady Shalltear said, “but it is an area of weakness that is on the list of ongoing concerns. Our foremost duty is to see to the defence of His Majesty’s realm, so the possibility of even minuscule damage being inflicted to his holdings is an unforgivable state of affairs if we possess the means to address it.”

“I’ve heard that Lord Cocytus is trying to correct some of those weaknesses by establishing this army and training the Death-series servitors for various roles.”

“That is the general idea, yes…why do you ask?”

“Is this possible?” Ludmila glanced towards Lady Shalltear, “I understand that they possess a certain degree of intelligence and are capable of being trained to do various things, but I also know that they have some hard limitations in terms of their raw capabilities. I’ve only noticed things that I’m personally familiar with, yet there are dozens of weaknesses that cannot be addressed through training due to these hard limits.”

“What are you proposing, exactly?”

“Nothing concrete, so far,” Ludmila replied, “but I will be starting to raise my own Rangers soon. They’ll be used to help eliminate my own fief’s weaknesses in local defence, and I was wondering if Lord Cocytus would be interested in something along those lines as well.”

“Cocytus would be interested in anything that might improve his new army,” Lady Shalltear smirked. “If you wanted my personal opinion on how relevant they would be, it would depend on how strong you could make them. If they are good enough to track and identify the majority of potential intruders along the border, then they would easily find a place in the realm’s security forces. Beyond roles of a similar nature, however, their use would be negligible compared to what we can simply bury our enemies with.”

“That’s all that I was considering them for, currently. I was just wondering if there was a place for it in the realm as a whole. I’ll have to see what results I can come up with before proposing the idea to Lord Cocytus.”

Lady Shalltear turned to look up at her, brow furrowed. Her parasol vanished, and she folded her arms.

“I don’t understand why you continue to take this sort of approach.”

“I’m uncertain of your meaning, my lady.”

Her liege released a tiny sigh.

“Despite all of the thinking that you do,” she told her, “you tend to rely on your intuition first. Has it ever led you astray? In a catastrophically bad sort of way.”

“I have come to some wrong conclusions in the past.”

“Hmm…too far,” Lady Shalltear said. “What I’m referring to are your initial hunches; instincts – have they ever pointed you in the wrong direction?”

Ludmila remained silent as she pondered the question.

“There is such a thing as thinking too much,” Lady Shalltear told her, “and I believe that it’s crippling you, in some ways.”

“Thoughtlessly following one’s intuition and instincts is bound to lead to trouble, eventually.”

“I’m not saying that you shouldn’t think at all,” Lady Shalltear said. “Lord Peroroncino knows that I’ve been a bit too hasty with my own intuition at times but, as someone who also relies on it, I’m saying that you should learn to trust your own. It might seem a nonsensical risk to those who only value well-defined logic and reasoning, but you will probably find it more productive than miring yourself in too much thought.”

There was a lull in the wind, and the sound of the villagers celebrating rose over the western wall. Ludmila reflexively glanced up at the noise.

“This has been the case so far, yes?” Lady Shalltear told her, “You’ve consulted with me on a great many things, and I’ve seen the results of your work. Your most prominent achievements have come to pass because you’ve been placed in situations where you do not have the luxury of lengthy planning, or you must willingly dive into what you consider unknown territory. Instinct and intuition correctly guide you towards favourable results, before any rational thought can be applied. It is one of your most excellent qualities, and I believe that you should rely on it more.”

It occurred to Ludmila that Lady Shalltear’s observation was strangely accurate. The most significant outcomes in the time since they had met did not hinge on careful planning or cunning calculation. In nearly everything that mattered, she had either been thrown into the fire and relied on her convictions to arrive at a solution, or meaningful results had been achieved without even realizing that she had been naturally working towards them. Rational methods had their place but, more often than not, they were employed to explore what her intuition had first pointed out.

“You’re probably correct, my lady,” Ludmila admitted. “I will say that actively trying to do things that way would be quite hard for me, however.”

“I suppose it’s just something that you’ll need to learn how to embrace. You are possessed of a character that strives for order, yet you thrive in chaos: skillfully navigating seas of uncertainty to achieve your objectives. If you are to think long and hard about anything, you should be considering what this means.”

The portal of a Gate spell appeared before them, and Clara stepped out. Adorned in a long summer dress of her customary house colours, she smiled brilliantly in the midday sun when her gaze found Ludmila and Lady Shalltear. Behind her, Lady Pestonya appeared, and the portal silently closed.

They exchanged their greetings, and Lady Shalltear started discussing something quietly with Lady Pestonya. Clara joined Ludmila where she stood behind Lady Shalltear, bumping up against Ludmila playfully.

“I’ve finally arrived at the mysterious Warden’s Vale,” Clara said with a giddy air about her. “I lost hours of sleep last night thinking about it.”

“I can’t imagine why,” Ludmila replied. “You have a far more fabulous place at home.”

“Hmph,” Clara pouted, “I’ll be the judge of that.”

Please don’t judge…

Ludmila was fairly certain that she could show Clara around the village without feeling ashamed about it, but, beyond that, her demesne was still the next closest thing to a wilderness. With the colossal amount of work going on in Corelyn County, she felt that there was nothing truly worth showing off in her demesne by comparison.

Lady Shalltear and Lady Pestonya completed their exchange, and they turned to face them.

“We’re ready when you are,” Lady Shalltear told Ludmila.

“What was it that you had planned, my lady?” She asked.

“It’s fairly straightforward,” Lady Shalltear answered. “We’ll be sending your grain through a Gate leading to the storage space in Corelyn Harbour. All I need to know is which ones need to be emptied.”

“You’ll be delivering all of it, my lady?” Ludmila’s mind froze.

“All that’s due to be delivered, yes.”

Ludmila exchanged a look with Clara, who only smiled in return. Had she asked for this? She did have an entire county to feed…

Her mind worked rapidly, trying to reorganize her development schedule in the event that she had not inexplicably entered into some sort of dream.

“Is that really alright, my lady?” Ludmila said, “Your mana is precious…”

“That’s why I’ve had Pestonya come along,” Lady Shalltear told her, “we’ll balance out the mana between us and see what half of our capacity will deliver…based on past results with other things, it should be more than enough.”

“In that case,” Ludmila looked at Clara again. “The anomaly you pointed out happened.”

“How far off were the numbers?” Clara asked.

“It was exactly as you predicted,” Ludmila answered.

“I knew it,” Clara said. “You picked a crop that isn’t commonly grown in the lowlands, after all…”

“What are you two talking about?” Lady Shalltear leaned in between them.

“It’s a discrepancy between the expectations outlined in the administration’s almanacs and what the actual results should be, my lady,” Clara explained. “I pointed it out to Lady Albedo a few months ago, but she wanted solid proof for my claim under the new systems. Ludmila planted the earliest crops, so now we have a sample of the evidence that the Prime Minister asked for.”

“So is this a good thing, or a bad thing?” Lady Shalltear asked, “I’m afraid I have no idea what you’re referring to.”

“I noticed that the information in the almanac was…sterile,” Clara said, “for lack of a better way to put it. Considering the fact that it was presented under the assumption that Undead labour would be used, I suspected that the projections were put together as the results of a controlled experiment. Elder Liches directing the cultivation of crops in the region, or something along those lines…”

“That’s not exactly what it was, but you’re fairly close – you picked that up just from reading a string of numbers on an almanac?”

“It stuck out quite a bit to me, my lady,” Clara said. “I’m certain other members of the nobility have noticed as well, but they’re still stepping lightly under the new administration. The point here is that the crops in the projections provided by the almanac were not grown by Farmers, but casters of some sort. This is a bit of an oversimplification, but crops managed by professional Farmers produce more.”

“Something like a class bonus?” Lady Pestonya asked.

“If we were to use that style of terminology, yes,” Clara answered. “Loosely speaking, Farmers with some experience harvest five per cent more produce. This is a general bonus, not counting any specializations. The tenants of my own demesne are specialized in their respective Riverland crops, so they produce even more. Since oats are not commonly grown in this region, I was able to reliably predict that this five per cent bonus to the harvest would occur for Ludmila’s summer crops.”

“How in the world did you figure all that out in the first place?” Lady Shalltear made a face.

“As long as one keeps thoroughly accurate records, they’ll start to see some oddities between various tenants. Due to the ideal conditions of the Riverlands, House Corelyn’s yield figures have always been much more reliable than most. With a bit of research, the existence of this ‘bonus’ becomes readily apparent.”

“These Farmers used Undead labour,” Lady Pestonya noted, “shouldn’t that make a difference?”

“No, my lady,” Clara said. “It doesn’t matter what kind of draft animals you use, nor how experienced your farmhands are. You may consider these Undead labourers along those same terms.”

“This is excellent news, then!” Lady Shalltear smiled, “A pleasant surprise, to be certain. So how much should we be moving?”

“102,600 bushels, my lady,” Ludmila said. “Ten of these filled silos.”

“Each destination should have enough volume for five of these,” Clara added.

They walked up to the first in the long row of raised silos, each ten metres in diameter and four metres high. Lady Shalltear called over the Death Knight standing at the closest gatehouse, sending it to the spout of the first silo.

“?Gate?.”

The familiar portal of the Gate spell appeared, but not in the usual way. This time, it was opened horizontally below the spout of the grain silo. Ludmila shook her head – it was an obvious application of the spell, in hindsight.

Lady Shalltear nodded to the Death Knight, who pulled the lever to open the spout. The long stream of oats poured out directly into the portal. Ludmila could only stare as 160 tonnes of grain was dumped straight into its destination in Corelyn County within minutes. The process continued with the next silo.

“Were you running low on grain?” Ludmila asked Clara, “This entire shipment is enough to feed your entire demesne for just over a month.”

“A bit over five weeks, yes,” Clara answered. “We’re not starving, but I wanted to have a good surplus before the rest of the duchy starts moving food around. With so many new things happening at once, you never know what sort of disruptions might occur. Lady Shalltear also has a vested interest in getting things moved over – the faster your goods are delivered, the faster you get paid and the faster she gets your taxes, yes?”

Clara held up a folded sheet of paper between her fingers – a copy of a transaction from the Merchant Guild. Ludmila took the paper and opened it, then abruptly folded it again.

“This is a silly number,” Ludmila said. “I still can’t wrap my head around it.”

“Well, they do match your projections,” Clara replied, “Your plans go far beyond just that, so you’d better become accustomed to it. I don’t know how commodity prices will fare by winter, but I’m certain this is your best chance to get anything done. I’ll be looking forward to your results as well.”

It occurred to Ludmila that the true reason Clara had convinced Lady Shalltear to expedite the delivery of grain was so that their exchange could happen all at once, while prices were still at their highest. She shared a look with her friend, and Clara’s lips turned up in a self-deprecating smile. Ludmila wasn’t the only self-sacrificing idiot of a Human in the Sorcerous Kingdom. She sniffed and grabbed Clara’s hand, pulling her along to catch up with Lady Shalltear.

When they reached her, Lady Shalltear was holding a hand to her ear. The Death Knight was awaiting a new Gate, while she spoke aloud to someone.

“Eh? What do you mean I buried Shizu – didn’t you warn her to move?”

“Was there an accident in the harbour?” Clara asked worriedly.

“That Entoma…” Lady Shalltear muttered, “They were probably bickering over the same thing again.”

Ludmila frowned. How did an argument result in one side being buried by a shipment of grain? A new Gate opened, and the Death Knight released the spout of the silo. The lack of concern over the incident was decidedly strange.

“Is everything alright on the other end?” Ludmila asked.

“Hm? Yes, they’ve already pulled her out,” Lady Shalltear answered absently, then glanced over at them. “What happened between you two? You’re both positively glowing.”

“We’re just being idiots together, my lady.”

“I-is that so?”

“Yes,” Ludmila couldn’t keep the smile off of her face. “Clara went and completed our transaction in advance, so you’ll be receiving your taxes the next time I drop by the Merchant Guild.”

“May I have a look?” Lady Shalltear looked down at the invoice in her left hand.

Ludmila handed it over, and Lady Shalltear’s crimson eyes went back and forth as she scanned the content. Her brow furrowed when she reached the bottom of the page.

“Your taxes are ten per cent of this?”

“I’ll be adding what I owe for the timber and stone from this season’s exports, as well.”

“Perhaps I’ve been a bit too conservative with the construction of the post offices – they don’t even put a dent in what I get from you…there are going to be five of these villages?”

“Yes, my lady,” Ludmila replied. “We’ll be able to move on to expanding our facilities for the aerial transportation network and working on several other things sooner than expected. It should act as a sort of head start, but I wouldn’t hold hope for any of the goods produced with the direct assistance of Undead labour to maintain their current prices for long.”

“Agricultural staples will be the first to experience the eventual collapse in prices,” Clara said. “I suspect that, in three or four harvests, the exports from the Sorcerous Kingdom will begin to weigh on the regional markets. It’s far too sudden to rebalance the duchy’s agricultural sector properly, so the value of our exports will abruptly diminish until that happens, or until we gain access to new markets.”

“The administration still guarantees a price for grain,” Lady Shalltear said. “You could always sell it to the Sorcerous Kingdom.”

“I thought that was an emergency measure back when the city was at a standstill?”

“It’s not,” Lady Shalltear replied. “The price floor will stay on the listed goods indefinitely. Let’s just say that the regional markets are not the only outlet for this duchy’s production.”

“I see…” Clara said, “Still, it will take quite a lot to have market prices tumble that far – I sincerely doubt that they ever will. Having this guarantee as a fallback is reassuring should such an unlikely event occur, but being proactive in finding new, accessible markets will net us the best long term gains.”

“You already have one in mind?” Lady Shalltear asked.

“A few, my lady,” Clara answered. “Liane is doing most of the research, but the stance of our little circle is that we must take the offensive. The advantages conferred by our new systems grant us tremendous economic reach – all we need are a few missing pieces in our arsenal before we can start.”

“And here everyone sees you as some sort of angelic being,” Lady Shalltear raised an eyebrow, “full goodness and warmth.”

A slow smile crept onto Clara’s face, and she gave Ludmila’s hand a small squeeze.

“Someone once told me that Angels are every bit as ruthless as Devils,” Clara said, “and I suppose she was absolutely correct. It is His Majesty’s will that the Sorcerous Kingdom stands as a beacon of prosperity and harmony, and so we shall carry its light to the furthest corners of the world. We’ll start with something nice and manageable, of course.”

The Weapon Master

An orphaned boy inheriting his father’s blade; the diligent disciple calmly practising the techniques of her venerable school. A tribal champion rising through raw, personal skill with their trusty club; a wanderer obsessed with testing his blade against the strong. The journey one initially embarks upon may vary greatly, yet all such roads to expertise lead to the puissant and deadly grace of the Weapon Master.

No simple Soldier, Adventurer or Gladiator, the Weapon Master is a warrior who has achieved such proficiency with their favoured armament that it has become a natural extension of themselves. Dominating opponents with overwhelming technical expertise, power and an array of powerful Martial Arts, they are a spectacle to behold and a terror to face. Even the most disciplined formations and the finest of armour is often no match. They stand in the eye of a storm of martial devastation, carving bloody trails through battlefields around the world.

Experienced Weapon Masters are coveted as instructors by nations and private individuals alike, often running branches of their own respective schools or founding entirely new ones in order to propagate crucial teachings before they are lost in their passing. They are most commonly found in the military institutions of powerful nations – who spare no expense to train the best and brightest of their warriors – facilitating the security of their lands, or the conquest of their neighbours.

Rarest amongst Weapon Masters are those whose talents lead them to achieve the greatest heights of their craft: legendary warriors akin to the Kensei of the south, whose feats of renown inspire generations throughout the ages to set foot upon the very same path.