Book 9: Chapter 2
“I WITNESSED SOMETHING extremely curious yesterday...” There was a note of mirth in Henri de Latour’s voice as he spoke.
He paused for effect. Picking up a jug of wine from the table in front of him, he started walking toward me at a languid, unhurried pace.
I was standing at the window, leaning my shoulder up against its frame as I stared out at the street below. The office of the Burgomeister of Gondreville had an excellent view of the city’s main square, in whose center there now stood a massive pedestal, and a monument of dark-green granite depicting a huge knight in Vestonian-style armor. The knight was holding a two-handed sword, and fighting alongside a larger-than-life citizen in typical Bergonian clothing who was holding a spear and a shield in his hands. At the foot of this monument, several workers were busy sweeping up the garbage that was left over after the end of the recent festivities.
The previous day had seen the end of the springtime holidays, to which I had officially been invited, and which had involved the official dedication of the massive monument in the town square: a symbol of victory, and of the town’s liberation from its Scarlet yoke.
Despite the fact that the armor and clothing on the two stone figures was obviously meant to symbolize the alliance between Bergonia and Vestonia, it would have been hard to miss the foxtail marking on the shoulder of the Vestonian knight, or the horned head of a bull on the Bergonian militiaman’s shield. Also, the dedication ceremony took place to the rousing music of an orchestra, whose melody was obviously taken from the song about a crafty fox who helped a bold bull drive a bunch of red rats out of his house.
The hundreds of citizens who had thronged the square that day kept staring at me in awe, pointing excitedly at the statue, then at me, then back again, until the connection couldn’t possibly have been lost on anyone. Smiles were shining on the faces of all my friends. They all seemed to enjoy the festivities quite a bit.
But there were also people who found this outpouring of popular support quite a bit more objectionable. One look at the sour faces of the Vestonian nobles, who had arrived in Gondreville a few months before, made that clear enough.
The King of Vestonia’s banner may have been flying proudly above the city, but the massive granite monolith in the center of the town square made it pretty clear what the citizens really thought about Carl III and the part he had played in their city’s liberation. They had decided to tug on the tiger’s whiskers, and it couldn’t have come at a worse time. That tiger may have been mortally wounded, but he was still a dangerous predator.
And speaking of predators, I had been surrounded by a huge number of people the day before, and had kept my energy system on a battle footing, as I normally did in such situations. An enlarged Coronal Node, filled with golden mana, had dialed my perceptive abilities up to superhuman levels. Thanks to this, I could feel a piercing stare coming from somewhere in the crowd. It wasn’t the stare of a Seer, but it definitely wasn’t a normal stare either. For just a moment, I felt like a game bird, who’s just realized that it’s being followed by a cautious predator. Trying not to make any moves or look in that predator’s direction, I turned and pretended to be bending down to whisper something into the ear of someone from the city council. Alas, this little trick wasn’t enough to let me get a glimpse of whoever was watching me.
The unknown tracker was obviously a master of their craft. The sensation of being watched vanished pretty quickly after that. And I didn’t sense its return at any point for the rest of the day. Apparently, the tracker had realized that I knew I was being watched.
My first thought was that it might be a ghost-shapeshifter, like Duval. But I hadn’t felt the slightest trace of Death Magic or Barrier Magic the entire time I was in the city. With my new abilities, it would be hard for anyone like that pseudo-Duval to conceal their true nature in my presence ever again.
The absence of any Dark beings in the city was soon confirmed for me by the elders of a small family of brownies. After several years’ absence, the first-born had started trickling back into the lands around Gondreville. As the toughest and most stubborn of the bunch, these brownies weren’t afraid to be the first to return to their old homes.
Actually, my meeting with the elders of this little clan (whose invitation had been passed to me via one of my Glenns) was one of the main reasons I had decided to visit Gondreville in the first place.
The brownies weren’t in any particular hurry to swear allegiance to an auring, but that didn’t prevent us from making agreements on collaboration and mutual assistance. As a result, I acquired another set of eyes and ears in Gondreville.
Another argument against the presence of any ghostly shapeshifters (albeit a somewhat weaker one) was the fact that the sharp-eared bastards normally couldn’t leave the Shadow for very long. Actually, this was more like a suggestion, which Lorin had aired after interrogating some of Duval’s people.
To a man, the subjects of the interrogations stated categorically that they had never known about their master’s true nature. And none of them were lying.
The switchout had probably taken place when the real Chevalier Duval and two of his strykers had set off for one of their routine campaigns into the Shadow. Once there, they had presumably been taken prisoner by the ghosts. It seemed likely that this had happened several months prior to the Scarlets’ invasion of the Margraviate.
The lizardmen who had once served Baron de Vilar told us a little bit more; they had joined Duval’s unit after their master’s agonizing death at the hands of the Gray Reaper.
They had all found it a little strange that whenever their unit had business in Gondreville, or any of the other settlements along the old Imperial track, Chevalier Duval insisted on going alone.
Togrul and Molchun would always stay behind in the Margraviate. And if, for any reason, the unit found itself delayed, Duval would always get nervous — so much so that at one point, he actually got seriously ill, which was highly unusual for a stryker. Even more strangely, he had refused the help of the city Healer entirely, and instead ordered that he be brought back to his own lands immediately. And once there, he recovered surprisingly quickly.
When asked who exactly Duval had been selling his contraband goods to in Gondreville, the lizardmen replied that the pharmacist Jacques Sarreaux had basically been his one and only buyer. The very same man, in other words, whose home and pharmacy now belonged to me.
Chevalier de Latour stopped about a step away from me, then held up his jug and asked:
“More wine?”
I turned to look away from the window, and held up my glass with a smile:
“Yes, thank you.”
Once the Burgomeister had filled up my glass, I nodded in the direction of the monument. A couple gray pigeons had just alighted on the granite heads of the knight and the militiaman. After proudly puffing out their big gray chests, they started spinning slowly around, toddling in place.
“Very soon, when the city’s flock of birds get a little bolder and fall in love with this monument themselves, that curious sight you saw will be pretty commonplace.”
As if in confirmation of my words, one of the birds let out a loud coo, and a big, characteristic white stain began to spread across the Bergonian citizen’s shoulder.
Chevalier de Latour frowned, then took a big sip from his glass.
Still staring out into the square, I continued:
“It seems like the city council still hasn’t quite given up on the idea of someday hanging the banner of the Duchy of Valier on their gates. They don’t even seem to mind that no such Duchy exists yet.”
“You’re right,” the Burgomeister replied in a hushed voice. “But the council, and all the other citizens for that matter, realize that this would be the most positive outcome for Gondreville.”
I nodded toward the monument again.
“And you’ve dug yourselves in even deeper with this stunt here. Creating a whole load of hassle for me in the process.”
Henri de Latour just shrugged.
“The citizens are proud of the fact that you’re an honorary citizen yourself. If we hadn’t voted to remind you of that, at least in this little, relatively innocent way, our own neighbors would have started turning their backs on us. People would ignore us in the street. And that would have been the best-case scenario. Worst case, the entire city council would have been forced to leave the city and find new places to live. You just don’t fully understand who you are to these people.”
The Burgomeister took another sip, then continued nervously:
“Gondreville is slowly building itself back up. We’re gathering strength. But it’s not happening as quickly as we’d like it to. Even our dream of holding onto what we’ve already gained is now under threat. We’ve received word that Carl III’s “fatal” illness seems to have receded.”
“Is he fully recovered?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” Chevalier de Latour shrugged. “But we’ve been told that the King recently rode through Herouxville in his parade armor, at the head of a cohort of Guardsmen.”
“Interesting,” I grunted softly.
Apparently, Carl’s healers had managed to amplify the power of my potions in some way. Nevertheless, I was still very skeptical of the idea that Carl would actually make a full recovery.
“The royal representative in Gondreville is constantly coming to us with demands,” continued de Latour, ignoring my mumbled comment. “And he’s not the only one who’s trying to put pressure on the city council.”
“Yes, I’ve seen the representatives from de Bauffremont and de Gondy,” I nodded.
“They’re spinning webs of intrigue, shaking their wallets around, and making some very big promises,” the Burgomeister growled. “For the time being, though, my compatriots are still loyal to our cause.”
“You don’t trust your people?”
“I do,” said de Latour; then, a little more quietly, he added: “But how long will their resolve hold? The stakes are rising quickly.”
“Yes. The Duke de Gondy certainly has money to spend,” I shook my head. “And I have to say, the generosity of the Duke de Bauffremont’s messengers is a little bit surprising to me. Especially in light of recent events. He was in captivity so recently. And a ransom from the Golden Lion can’t possibly come cheap. I would think that His Grace the Duke de Bauffremont’s treasury would be empty.”
“Credit,” replied Chevalier de Latour laconically. “Some of the Astlandic bankers who fled Atalia have lent the Duke’s heralds an enormous sum of money. They need an influential patron right now. The Craonnes are putting far too much pressure on them.”
“That explains a lot.”
“That’s not even the half of it,” said de Latour. “I’ve also learned that Carl III has ordered his own heralds to start digging through archives in search of genealogies of the Bergonian noble houses. This is why distant relatives and heirs of the fallen Dukes and Counts of Bergonia have started popping up like mushrooms after a spring rain. Some of them have already set off for the eastern and southern reaches of the country, in order to stake their claims to those lands. And they’ll be coming here before too long as well. I wouldn’t be surprised if we see some distant relative of the Dukes de Brialy show up at our walls. In fact, I bet we’ll see one before the year’s out.”
“Henri,” I said. “You’re an experienced politician. If you want to hang on to what you’ve already won, then promise them support, take all the gold they offer you, and make it look like you’re reciprocating. Play for time. Make each of them think that you’re secretly on their side. Let them tear each other’s throats out — not yours. It’s not my place to tell you these things, of course. You already know all this perfectly well...”
“Those tricks will be useless before too long,” de Latour shook his head.
“Then think of some new ones.”
“The King’s soldiers will be arriving in Gondreville within a month. Two months, at most.”
“So much the better for you,” I shrugged. “Reinforcements are always welcome, right?”
“Carl’s already trying to take us under his control,” said de Latour with a frown.
“Look at it from a different angle,” I said. “The King is giving you a gift without even realizing it.”
The Burgomeister’s eyebrow rose in surprise.
“Are you joking?”
“I’m very serious. You shouldn’t treat these soldiers as enemies. On the contrary — you should try to make them yours. Set them up with acceptable living conditions. Feed them well. Give them quality weapons and equipment. If any of them want to start families with local women, help them out with money and a place to live. Let them see how the city takes care of its own. Considering how the King’s recruiters are raiding the big cities and roads right now — and make no mistake, they’re going to send you a bunch of people they’ve caught unawares and turned into unwilling soldiers — I don’t think this new army is going to be overflowing with love for its King.”
“There’s certainly some merit in that...” The Burgomeister muttered as he thought over my suggestion. “Even so, that would just be a temporary solution. Sooner or later, the King will assemble new legions, and then we can forget about our dreams and our plans. The Dukes and Kings will be back in these lands in no time. They’ll start feasting, hunting, and fighting, and demanding food, gold, and men from the city.”
“That won’t happen anytime soon.”
Chevalier de Latour turned to fix me with an iron stare, then let out a sigh of defeat.
“With the Forefather as my witness, things would have been so much easier if you’d just agreed to our proposition in the first place.”
“And what makes you think that I wouldn’t demand exactly the same things as these hypothetical Dukes and Kings of yours?” I asked, without even a hint of irony in my voice. “What makes you so sure that the Duke de Valier you love so much would be any different from these de Gondys and de Bauffremonts?”
“A great many things.” Henri de Latour was staring me firmly in the eyes as he spoke. “We know how you run things in that March of yours. You invest your resources into developing the Margraviate, instead of wasting them on balls and jewelry for lackeys and lovers. Lackeys and lovers who’d think nothing of, say, galloping across a field of young corn during a hunting party, and condemning the peasants who’ve sown it to a slow death by starvation. You’re out in the Shadow, on real hunts, for real monsters. These avaricious Dukes think up reasons to go to war without counting their losses. You avoid conflicts, and yet somehow also win your battles with minimal losses. You’re not like them, Maximillian.”
Chevalier de Latour set his wine glass down on the windowsill and continued:
“You rejected our offer, but we can still see that our city — like the other cities and settlements in northern Bergonia — has nevertheless won a certain place in your heart. Thanks to you, the old Imperial track is currently the safest stretch of road in the entire country.”
I stayed silent, and Henri de Latour continued:
“At the beginning of this conversation, I mentioned having seen a curious sight yesterday... I was actually referring to the hurried departure of Aldrich van Klausen, immediately after your conversation with him. I couldn’t help but notice that he looked extremely irritated and downcast. By morning, everybody was saying that the Sapphire Guild must not have offered you enough gold for the Citadel. But my intuition is telling me that there’s something else behind the hasty departure of this master from Sapphire Guild.”
“Is that so?” I inquired. “And what is your intuition suggesting?”
“As you remember, Baron de Bacri, to whom you’ve entrusted the Sapphire Citadel, is an old friend of mine,” said Chevalier de Latour, still staring me squarely in the eyes. “But I swear, on my honor as a nobleman, that all my guesses are based solely on my own observations and analysis. Jean-Claude has nothing to do with this at all.”
I replied with a silent nod, and Chevalier de Latour continued.
“So, the initial decision to station Baron de Bacri and his men at the Citadel looked like a temporary measure. Then, however, I started to notice that the garrisons of both Chateau Gardien and the Citadel itself were growing larger, slowly but surely. Not only that — at the end of last fall, a number of construction contractors were sent to the Citadel from Gondreville, along with their families. Ostensibly, this was to make wintering easier for everybody involved. When I happened to be visiting the place in the spring, however, I noticed that these contractors were hard at work repairing and reinforcing the walls of the fortress. At first, this came as a great surprise to me. What, after all, would be the point of refurbishing something you’re about to sell anyway? Why spend the money? But then I thought about it for a while...”
The Burgomeister started fidgeting nervously with his chin. He seemed to be hesitating, as though he were trying to decide whether to take a fateful jump from a precipice.
“And where did your thoughts lead you, my dear Henri?” My question actually made the Burgomeister of Gondreville flinch just a little bit.
“Today’s the tenth day since your arrival in the city,” he started to explain, his voice suddenly hoarse. “During that short time, we’ve already signed several contracts. Many of them are purely formalities, both for our city in particular and for the region as a whole. For example, the re-establishment of the Bank of Gondreville after its plunder by the Red Cloaks. You did more in one day that we’ve been able to accomplish in all our mind-numbing work over the last few months. The investors who lost their money at the bank didn’t trust it anymore. As soon as they found out that you opened an account and deposited a large sum there, however... Well, there was no end to people wanting to open accounts that day. And what do you imagine will happen when word gets out that you’re one of the shareholders in that bank?”
Henri de Latour leaned in slightly.
“We haven’t even known one another for a year yet, but I’ve already realized something about you.”
“And what’s that?”
“You never do anything just for the hell of it,” he replied. “And I can see that something in your plans has changed over the last six months. And that it’s got something to do with Gondreville and the other settlements here in the North. I have to admit, it all makes me feel a bit confused. You don’t want to be our Duke, but you’re already acting like a Duke. It’s like you’ve started preparing for something.”
He fell silent, waiting for me to respond. I took my time. Ever since I had met him, Henri de Latour had always shown himself to be a decisive and loyal ally. Nevertheless, I realized that telling him about what I had found in the depths beneath Shadow Pass would have caused a premature panic. At the same time, though, I knew that I could never bring my plans to fruition without his help, and that of the Gondreville city council. I needed the city, and I needed its residents.
“You’re right, Henri,” I said. “This city, and this region, has certainly won a place in my heart. And yes — your observations are at least partially correct. I want to use the temporary lull in Bergonia to strengthen my position in these lands. Because the Golden Lion won’t simply be sitting on his hands. He’ll definitely try to take revenge for his defeat at the first possible opportunity. This time, though, he’ll prepare a little more thoroughly. That’s why I told Aldrich van Klausen that the Sapphire Guild’s offer was unacceptable to me. Although I should also point out to you that if Van Klausen had come to me even six months earlier, with the exact same offer, I would have sold him the Citadel without a second thought.”
“You’re playing for time...” guessed Henri de Latour. His eyebrows rose. “You don’t really intend to sell it at all. That’s why you’re investing so much in repairing the fortress walls. Chateau Gardien and the Sapphire Citadel constitute an important strategic point. But they cost a great deal to maintain. That’s why you’ve decided to invest most of your capital in the local bank, as well as several local trading houses. The richer the region, the better it’ll be able to support the royal forces.”
I chuckled skeptically.
The Burgomeister’s eyes widened. The light of realization suddenly flared up in them. It seemed that the pieces had finally fallen into place in his mind.
“Oh, Most Luminous Mother! You’re not concerned about the royal forces at all. You’re thinking about your own... You’re...”
“Yes, my dear Henri.” I laid my right hand on his shoulder. “Your assertions and guesses are correct. This lull will end very soon, and when it does we’ll see a storm like never before. Our enemy is preparing and gathering new legions. We need to do the same. It’s not enough to simply gather and train our soldiers. They need to be armed, clothed, and fed as well. That’s why we need a strong base in our rear. And it’s very important that nobody interfere with us while we’re building it. Therefore, the less attention we can attract, the easier it’ll be to bring our plans to fruition. So, with all that in mind: are you with me?”
I held out a hand to Henri, and he shook it without a moment’s hesitation.
“Gondreville is with you, Your Lordship!” He replied, smiling from ear to ear.