18th of Moon’s Twilight, first month of the year 984:
“Good evening, Mulia.”
Soral’s greeting catched Mulia off guard, making her jump a bit, “Good evening, Lady Soral, Fine weather we are having, don’t you agree?” She didn’t know what type of small talk to make because, if Soral had work for her, she would just order her.
“Well, these past days have had an above average climate, indeed.” Soral quickly found herself lost in how to continue the conversation. She had overestimated her capabilities in this field, even if she had never partaken in. She wanted to both apologise and ask, but she did none of the two.
“May your work be swift! If you need anything I will be there, you only need to call.” The new brio in her steps spoke volumes about the impact Soral’s hail had had.
“Wait.” As Mulia turned, Soral tried to convey her feelings, freezing in the end. Searching for an out, the curiosity of the drastic change in flavour in today’s medicine worked as a fine excuse to evade the problem, even if she was only lying to herself. “Did you sweeten the Women's Reprieve?”
“Huh? No, I delivered it to you as it had come from the alchemist store. Was it defective?”
“No, no. Forget about it.” Cursing herself for her weakness, she dispelled those thoughts. She ended up dismissing Mulia as always, but now she looked a bit happier than before they had greeted each other. This had been one of the only real conversations they had had since she had come to work in the castle, and Soral dreaded confronting the fact.
Shaking her head, slight guilt already striking her for ignoring Mulia for so long, she entered her new office.
After being greeted by her four new workers inside, the other four were collecting reports from the Guilds; they resumed the earlier talk.
“Now that the Lady has arrived, let’s restart from the beginning. On the issue of dealing with our growing production of fertiliser, have any of our trade offerss to the Merchant Association been answered? And, if not, do we know of any other to deal with our growing silosss? Almost all of the barony’s villages have already filled theirs and the stuff just keepss coming.” Asked Lussus, a snake-man with a scar in his tail. He tried to sweep under the carpet his sibilant accent with a few touches on the reports, as he was still getting used to such a high position.
Gemebs, a middle aged goblin, sighed with exasperation, and tiredly said, “They will say no. Our most valuable prospect is the Steel Baroness, as I have been repeating for the last fifteen minutes. She has been buying a lot of the stuff to filter phosphorus and she is buying it at a higher than market price.”
“And arm our competition? Haven’t you realised that giving her Fire Dust is the same as doubling the incendiary weapons she is stockpiling? I do not think an arrogant woman like her will stay humble for much longer. What will you say to our Countess when her armies fight an elite force feeded by us?”
A low growl from one of the chairs made Lussus look at the new Chairman of the recently formed Guild of Hunters. A wolf man clad in white hair and missing an eye, echoing his long battle focused career, intruded in the conversation.
“If I may interrupt, thunder swords are as useful as blunt claws against metal men. Have you forgotten about the Wall of the Green Tide?” He scarved with his foot a bit on the ground, compromising his unease against that almost mythic battle, as the Wolfmen had, not long ago, been enemies of that same powerhouse. The stone was a bit more compromised, as his claws had torn grooves into it.
An awkward silence befell the room. That battle had, after all, become a legend, one that had destroyed the future of conventional firearms, nipping them in an early grave. It had happened in the dawn of the seventh century, an era when the Orc Tribes were unified under a single Chieftain. Having been running out of human slaves and orc tribes to conquer, they had turned their eyes north, upon the Theocracy of the Sands. Their army, fifty thousand strong, fully armed with arcabuses, had been stopped and routed by twenty mere vampire knights, clad in the typical armours of the Theocracy. A battle that had lasted two weeks and twelve hours, the two weeks had been those vampires hunting the routing orcs. The unified state fell shortly after, as the pillar tribes rebelled and ousted the Chieftain, falling, again, into separated states fighting for supremacy.
From this battle a Golden Rule had sprung, as immobile as a mountain. Enchantments were the kings of the battlefield of normal men. A mediocre enchanted armour would withstand without a single nick a bullet from an arquebus, the bullet would simply crash and break against the armour. The true problem rested in the nature of the ammunition used. While arrows were big enough to at least accommodate a few, small enchantments, a bullet was both too small to work with and to hold one big enough to give a perceptible boost. Merely giving more power to the weapon would result in a speedier bullet that would still break upon impact, as enchantments on the weapon itself had no influence in the ammunition used.
Shaking his head, Gemebs corrected him. “We are not talking about firearms. We are talking about incendiary grenades. Armour doesn’t matter if you find yourself bathed in flames.”
The wolf man nodded, ashamed, and returned to his silence.
“Still, you make a point. They would be a major nuisance against men at arms, and a true threat against the levies, but not something that would change a battle. Only the Fenix Corps know how to play with fire.” Continued the goblin.
An increasingly agitated woman stopped tapping the table with her fingers and entered the conversation, “Can we get back to the topic? You are proving to our Lady that we do not know how to sell an apple in a starving city. We could sell to the baronies that specialise in agriculture, but we lack trust. The Steel Baroness is a good start, but we need more trade partners.”
“Maybe our Alpha would be willing to partake of our spoils of production?”
“Moonhide, while it is a good idea, selling to our Countess after the…., incident is….”
Gemebs cut her off, “I agree with Moonhide here. It is worth a shoot, and we are desperate enough to sell with a discount. Plus, we would be selling to the whole county, indirectly.”
“And that’s why I don’t think it's worth even asking. We have neither prestige nor friendliness with the countess. And definitely not the background as skilled traders. We should just expand our farms while trying to sell to the central baronies.”
Lussus, joining the wolf man ship, entered the fray, “That would be too hard on our logistics. Lorrain, I think it is worth a try. The Association has also gotten very quiet from what I have heard from my old contacts as a mercenary. Something about losing two warehouses and a main building in this county. I’m sure they are desperate for cash flow. And the villages are already full of work, expanding farms is good and all if you have the people to field them.”
Lorrain raised her arms to gesture and, giving up, dropped them onto the table. “Fine. What do you think, Lady Soral?”
Jumping a bit, Soral cleaned his throat and answered, “I agree with both perspectives. We need to increase our trade partners, but it isn’t a valid long term solution. We will construct new farm sites near the city. We have both the manpower to field them and to build them. The Guilds have been busy instructing the workers of the new Grove District, the old slums, after all.”
Getting back to work after receiving the new strategies to follow, they started to fill the necessary documents to request the new construction sites and the recruitment drills for the future farmers.
Soral, remembering something, ordered, “Also, expand the Magic Lanterns to both the new farms and the villages. They are way more useful than what they appeared.” Said, while looking at the starsky like city that could be gazed through the window after the sun had set. Asking for reassurance, “Lastly, do the farmers have receiver instructions to start cultivating with the Albestus Four-course System?”
“Yes, Lady Soral. We can confidently vow that this spring will either start a Green Revolution or we will go bankrupt and face a famine.” Delivered Gemebs, exhaustion palpable in his tone.
“Doubting your elders is not the way.” Snarled Moonhide.
“I will stop doubting when I see results. Scholars are all too engrossed in their books to know how reality works.” Shrugged the goblin.
Someone knocked on the door of their workplace, stopping the four days old discussion before it could reignite again. Their workplace was but the old ballroom of the castle which had been transformed into an enormous, for the time, office. Filled with bookshelves and tables brimming with maps, tax reports, a few cadastres of the barony, law books and more, it stands as the commitment of the new leadership of the Barony. Soral, remembering she had forgotten to hear the report of Andras, sat upright in her wooden chair.
“Enter.”
Andras, opening the door as silently as he could manage, greeted her Lady. “Pardon me for the intromission, Lady Soral. I have come to deliver the report you had asked me for. Is it a good time now?”
“Go ahead.”
Looking at her a bit funny, he reported, “The men at arms have reached the number you required, six hundred. While we are short in plate armours, mail and leather armour should do the trick, so they do not pose a problem. The main issue, on the other hand, is the funding for the acquisition of weapons. These are not something we can make do with sticks, no matter how well enchanted they are.”
Soral cursed in her mind. This year they had managed to recaude fourteen hundred gold coins from taxes and products of their guilds. Four hundred had gone to pay and expand the guilds, Six hundred had gone to the villages and another two hundred were going to pay for the new farming sites. With only two hundred left, Andras would be able to maybe arm 50 men as men at arms. ‘From where the Nether had Noct been evocating money? Sheer anger?!’. And, if she gave Andras the funding he needed, she would say Goodsbye to the mining operations they were planning to start in two weeks. She sucked in breath, and, gaining a sudden wind of inspiration, she decided to send the problem to his brother, even if she knew that was not the ideal solution.
“Talk with Noct. I’m sure he will help.”
Andras knew when he was getting scammed. Deciding to humour her Lady, he bowed and left the room.
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“Related to weapons, does the Hunter Guild need fire weapons?”
“No, thunder swords are too inaccurate to….”
……………….
Meanwhile, in the underground of the Barony.
“So the mining operations will resume, this time with iron instead of gold?” Asked the skeleton in charge of the mining teams.
“Yes. You all have been idle since the gold vein ran out a year and a half ago so rejoice, our Lord Noct has given you a worthy job. You will mine the iron deposits on district five. Lord Noct will be able to start using them to forge steel weapons without suspicion starting in a month.” Continued Lantraz
“It shall be done!”
Lantraz nodded and looked around the Miners Guild’s main building. If it could be called one, as it had been carved out from the underground and not built. With three underground floors, it housed all their enchanted mining equipment. As the mining captain was traversing the room, its gaze went back to it. It was one of the new skeletons who had gained a will of its own, if memory didn’t fail him, it was Minust.
Lantraz had come to like the being. Hardworking above the undead standard, it had proven its honesty time and time again, and was always ready to admit faults within oneself. ‘A quality that should be more common in our kind.’ It mussed. Lantraz had come to start fearing the increasing hubris its brothers started to harbour. While it was understandable, as they were chained underground thanks to the surface dwellers. They knew they would face oblivion if they were to try to live under the sun, not that it made it any easier. It only doubled down on the differences between undeads and living beings.
Lantraz had learned its truth and views of the world and, while it wanted to preach and try to better their understanding, it knew it would be arrogance on his part. Their feelings were natural, they had a good reason for their views, but it did not make them neither better nor palatable to it.
‘And Eve’s followers have just doubled down on those same views.’ Lantraz did not know what Eve’s plans were, nor if it even had some. It didn’t want to find them either. It knew it would try to stop Eve then, no matter the cost nor his personal feelings in the matter. It knew it could be judged as a betrayal of his faith, of his ideals. That did not change what it felt, Eve was his family, Gods and ideals be damned. ‘I will have to speak to her, I can stop her before she takes a non return path. I have to.’
Returning to the cavalry it had been training, an idea sprouted in its head, ‘Maybe some of my brothers will be willing to hear the word. Zun shines upon us all after all, maybe in forgiveness they can let go of their hate. We can be better than the surface dwellers. We have to be if we take ourselves as better than them. We will be better! And teach them how a true society is built!’.
………………….
“Enter.” Said Noct, from inside his studio.
“Good evening, Lord Noct,“ Greeted Andras. The room was as messy as always. It appeared that not having to work did not help its situation at all. Looking at his lord, he saw him writing a book and, not wanting to disturb him more than he had too, he rapidly followed with, ”I wanted to ask you about the funding of the army.”
“Isn’t Soral working now?” Said, without looking from the book. His quill moved at half the speed Andras was used of seing.
“She dodged the issue. There’s no more budget available, right?” Answered Andras
“Well. I did expect more from her as a lord in probation. Dodging the issue is not going to make it go away. I will have to give her an earful later.” Finally looking up, he counter asked, “But, isn’t she investing in a metallurgic sector? In a few months we will be able to forge the weapons. Buying outsider’s will just turn into a huge waste.”
“We are? Pardon me for the ignorant requirement then, m’Lord.” Apologised Andras.
A vein bulging a bit in his temple, Noct probed, “She did not tell you anything at all? She just sended you here, knowing I would just refuse?”
Andras started to laugh and, after calming down a bit, he agreed, “Well, dodging problems is also a valuable skill to have!”
“Not if you make two out of one.”
“Well, this just demonstrates that she has come to trust you, if only a bit.” Merrily continued Andras.
“She should not.” Noct proved that the warm atmosphere could not exist for long. Caressing his face, he sighed and, after slowly breathing in, dropped the issue. “Well, it doesn't matter. You will have your armament in the near future. Anything more?”
“Nothing more, m’Lord. But, if I’m allowed to ask, are you fine? You seem exhausted.” Andras asked, cursing inside his mind, as the bastard had not gone to the Druid Guild yet. Maybe it was just knowing he could be poisoned, but Andras could pick signs of his tiredness. His right leg was unusually quiet, the window was open this late at night and the room was freezing, not that Noct appeared to care or mind. Lastly, his face was a bit sunken and paler than usual.
Looking back to the book, Noct swatted with his left hand to lessen severity from the issue, and answered, “A few matters have kept me up at night these past days. Nothing too significant, it’s but a simple clean up. Talking about cleanups, the investigations about the men that ambushed us?”
“We were only able to deduct that some third party tried to frame the knights of the Duchess. They wore the same emblems and some were known men at arms of the Duchy. We know no more.”
“I see.”
After scratching his head for a few seconds, Andras decided to let him get some rest, so he hailed and tried to say his goodsbyes. Before he could leave the room, Noct interrupted him .
“Could you ponder about living here? From what I have heard, your daughter has become friends with Soral, a thing she needs most, and she has been a good influence too. Do not say anything, think about it. It's me who’s asking, not the Regent.”
“Then I will think about it. Night.” These last words did little to help Andras’ growing discomfort, but he knew now was not the time.
Once the door closed, a stray thought crossed Noct’s mind, ‘He would make a good father figure.’
He tried to return to his scribe work, but a sentence from Andras kept repeating in his head. Dropping the half finished book on the table, he dragged himself to his usual place near the window to oversee the city. Taking in the new city, as the noise from some nearby bars could be guessed from so far away, as some people were still enjoying the night, as the new city, Soral’s city, slowly changed for the better, he could but start to think. ‘Was it really so easy since the very beginning? Waking up one moment and barreling with everything? Just doing the good thing? Does it mean that everything I have done was done without a meaning? Just a kid’s tantrum gone out of hand? Am I the demon they say I am?” Caressing his head, a small clump of hair fell out. A good portion of it was grey. ‘The stamina recovery magic is starting to weigh down.’ Noct divagued absent-mindedly. Before he could return to his melancholic mood, he stopped himself.
He was dodging his work, and he did not have the time for it. The work of tonight would not do itself so Noct, scratching his arm, returned to his chair, knowing that that book was one of the things he owed to his household. He had to finish that book as quickly as he could, stalling for time was not an option, even if he didn’t think he could manage it.
Looking at its half written page, he realised he had finished copying ‘fire shield’. Started another paragraph, his mind started another fight. ‘Firebolt, huh. It was one of my favourites too. I will add a few variants, the greatest weapon a mage has is unpredictability after all.’ Noct forced himself to think and write, as he tried to stop the memories from flowing back in. He did not need real fire to hear its crackling.
…………………
“Fine! I won’t ask you for help next time!”
“Soral, for the last time, this is not about me. You are a baroness, you can not leave your vassals to scurry from one to another, searching for a statement that should have been delivered the first time! If there are no funds, not daring to say so will not make gold magically appear from thin air! No matter what, you have to deal with the problems head on.”
“And from whom do you think I learned it? If you want to preach, you should take a good look at a mirror, because that is the thing you do not!”
Noct receded half a step back and tried to find the words to answer that. Surrendering, he gave up on the matter, “Learn from my mistakes then, I’m just trying to guide you to….”
“I do not need to learn from you.”
“Fine then. I will shut up.” Noct rose from the chair and asked, “Did you have anything you wanted to ask from your work of today?”
“Nothing!”
Not muttering another word, Noct left the room. Once silence returned to the room, Soral was able to calm down. Yes, she had things she wanted to ask and receive feedback on. ‘Great work, me. He was right. I even knew it was not a choice I could take as a leader, as a noble, when I did it, but I still did.’ Looking at her mirror, she was reminded his birthday would be in two months, together with the ceremony of her coming of age. ‘I should apologise. Maybe I still can try to convince my brother to do it in the northern spring and not in the imperial one.’ Catching that silver of regret, she was surprised by its mere existence. She had been eagerly waiting for five years to sit in the throne, and here she was, thinking about willingly delaying it for another two months.
She started to scavenge on her table, trying to find the last letter of the Duchess. She needed the reassurance of having an ally with power. And, more than that, she needed the proof she was trying to move forward, that she had changed from a kid that just hid in her room, incapable of changing her situation. A map of the whole continent* fell onto the ground, but she was too altered to realise it.
Clenching the letter in his fist, she resolved herself again. He was trying to writhe his way out of the hole he had dug himself. He had to be. Soral remembered her vow and, for the first time since forever, muttered a prayer to Elenia to give her strength.
While she was too preoccupied with her internal fight, she failed to see a red eyed bat that had snuck into her room.
That bat was but a familiar of a maid of the castle, who was resting in its bed as it looked through the eyes of its artificial animal.
………….
An unnerving laugh was contained inside one of the servant’s rooms. ‘Got you finally, meatbag. I should be bored of always being right.’ In the table near the bed, three similar letters with the same signature were laid, opened and readed. Its eyes full of hate and hunger, it started to whistle once its laughter died.
Inside the closet, a slight smell of blood could be perceived, as, finally, it had captured one of the messengers and had forgotten some of their clothes in the closet. ‘In cahoots with the very Hands that tried to kill your brother. Not that I expected anything different. He won’t let this one slide, but he would be way too merciful.’ Her gaze turned cold as a single thought burned like a forest fire, ‘I will deal with you, little meat bag.’
This was the true reason Eve had gone to the surface, risking its very life to achieve. It had wanted to purge the flies that zoomed around its loved one, and it had finally catched the queen of the swarm. The rest were fools, a paladin that would turn against Noct due time, an old friend who had cut ties and would follow the law, and a maid that was not worth its time to think about. The only thing keeping the weeb that was trapping its loved one healthy was his sister, the rest it could dispose of without Noct pushing it away. It knew Noct valued it too much for him to even think about kicking her out if it did not do something completely outlandish. But, if it had proof, it knew it would manage.
It had waited for too long and it had paid off, she had opened a golder door. Now, it only had to pull the string Soral had laid for her in a golden plate and slowly recover solid evidence. It would be able to finally dispose of his sister.
It calmed down a bit and looked again at Soral with the bat’s eyes. ‘You have taken too much of his time already. He is mine, and mine only. We, me!, are his only family.’
……………………