Chapter 1

“You win yet?”

“Shut up.”

Liam snorted as he refreshed the Purple Worm Venom on his throwing daggers.

“I finished a whole job and you’re still on your losing streak. How is that even possible?”

“Probably because it was an easy job,” Raul said. “Olga’s starting to beat Commanders ten times her age, you know?”

“Which Commanders are those?” Liam asked.

“Uh, some of the Frost Giants in the Northern Army Group,” Raul answered. “There were some weird fights, but she still won more than she lost.”

“So where does that leave you?”

“Wherever it leaves me,” Raul shrugged. “It’s not like I’m bad. Lady Zahradnik says that I’m a match for most of the Imperial Army’s Commanders.

“I thought the Imperial Army was supposed to be good.”

Liam dodged the pine cone Raul threw at him with a laugh. The thing glanced off the tree trunk behind him and skittered down the rocky slope.

“How far off are those Rangers?” Liam asked.

“It takes them an hour or so to dress a Manticore,” Raul answered. “So about that far off.”

In the week or so since Raul had arrived with his contingent, they had bagged three Manticores, a dozen Perytons, a pack of Dire Wolves, and scores of carnivorous Beasts. Additionally, they had driven the nearby Demihuman tribes into the resulting cleared territory and thus further from Beaumont County’s borders. According to Raul, it was enough to minimise incidents over the winter so long as Countess Beaumont’s security forces deterred the occasional roaming predator from wandering in. The Sorcerous Kingdom was leasing an Undead squad to help out with that, so Liam figured there wouldn't be any issues even if there were any incidents.

“Do you need an escort out of Beaumont County?” Raul asked.

“Nah, we should be good. Even if the local Nobles have crappy security, the Eight Fingers have their thumb on everything.”

Raul’s expression turned sour upon hearing his reply. Unlike Liam, Raul had grown up in a village that had to worry more about Demihuman raids than bandits and gangs of violent vagrants. People like him tended to have an especially low opinion of lawbreakers, seeing them as traitors to their own kind in a world where there were already plenty of threats to worry about.

“The men that Countess Beaumont recruited are way more than enough to deal with everyday problems,” Liam told him.

“If they don’t turn on her.”

“They won’t,” Liam said. “I can’t say that they’re loyal to her yet, but they’re sold on the idea that she’ll improve things for them and their families.”

“Before that,” Raul said, “they worked as thugs for the Eight Fingers. What were they sold on then?”

“The same thing, sorta,” Liam replied. “It’s not like most people want to be criminals. Whether your life sucks or not, you try and go with what you think is best.”

It wasn’t hard to figure out. The old Count had let the Eight Fingers overrun his fief and they weren’t exactly the nicest bunch. Residents with valuable skills would throw in their lot with criminal organisations not just to improve their own situation, but also to hopefully afford their families and friends some protection through association. Of course, that could also have the effect of dragging more and more people into the criminal underworld, but that was just how things were.

With Countess Beaumont now in the picture, the wayward thugs of Beaumont County had a way back into authority’s good graces. The customarily lethal price exacted by the Eight Fingers for ‘betraying’ their syndicate was not a factor with the idea that the Countess was now prominently involved in one of the Sorcerous Kingdom’s schemes. And she was – it just wasn’t as schemey as people seemed to think it was.

“What are you doing after we leave?” Liam asked.

“I have to set up patrol routes for the leased Undead,” Raul answered. “The Army wants us to survey the Manticore Mountains while we’re here, as well. We’ll be using our own Rangers.”

“Are we allowed to do that?”

“The maps might show that the area’s inside Re-Estize’s borders,” Raul replied, “but it isn’t as if they have any control over it. Fiefs like Beaumont County are about as deep into the wilderness as the Kingdom gets around here.”

He supposed it didn’t matter much either way. It wasn’t as if Re-Estize had the means to expand into the area and they definitely wouldn’t notice what was going on.

Reed and his men appeared late in the afternoon, bearing bundles of materials from their latest excursion. The long file of Rangers bore satisfied expressions as they made the final stretch to the edge of the mining village. Not that Liam could fault them even if the Undead did the majority of the work: their burdens represented a handsome reward for their services so long as Countess Beaumont could find a way to sell them.

And that means a trip to the city.

So far, the plan relayed to him by Countess Wagner was going as expected. Not that much could go wrong. Re-Blumrushur, however, would be infinitely more complicated if what he had heard about the city was true.

“Another day, another pile of treasure,” Reed grinned broadly as he came to a stop in front of Liam. “Raul says that this is the last haul before we head back down.”

Liam got up from the desiccated branch he had been sitting on and straightened his pants.

“Yeah,” he replied. “We have a bunch of things to do in the city. How much security do you think we need to protect our stuff?”

The woodsman-turned-thug-turned-woodsman rubbed his scruffy beard in thought.

“Never been to the city,” the man replied a few moments later. “Olin’d have a better answer, but he’s bound to mix his business up with ours if we lean on him. The Countess was living there just last season, but I doubt she has an eye for the kind of trouble we’re talkin’ about.”

Can I just assume it’ll be like Fassett Town, but ten times worse?

His hometown hadn’t been in anywhere near as bad of a situation as places like Beaumont and Middle Harbour, so he wasn’t sure if he could rely on an estimate like that. There was little to no sign of official security forces outside of their assigned posts and even that wasn’t a guarantee. As far as he could tell, the countryside was ruled by the Eight Fingers in a fashion that they believed would be most profitable for their syndicate. Would the regional capital be more of the same?

“I guess we can talk about it over dinner,” Liam said. “Have your men bring their haul to the usual place. You coming, Raul?”

“Nah, I need to finish the rest of my assignment. See you whenever.”

He waved a lazy farewell to Raul before falling into step beside Reed. The wiry woodsman glanced over his shoulder at the Commander’s departing figure.

“I swear that guy talked more to the Undead than he did with us,” Reed said.

“They’re his subordinates,” Liam shrugged. “He’s here to work; not to chat.”

“I suppose that’s fine, too,” Reed said. “Saw Olin try to get his hooks into the kid more than once.”

Liam had watched silently while that happened, wondering when Olin would end up as a Zombie. Fortunately for the Eight Fingers executive, he had given up on his attempts to sway Raul before it came to that.

“I know you said you’ve never been to the city,” Liam said, “but how much clout would you say Olin has there?”

“More than here for sure,” Reed replied. “You’ve seen it yourself. The more strongly connected a place is to the higher-ups, the more resources and influence a big boss like Olin has access to.”

That much made sense. Aside from taking punitive actions against defiant Nobles who resisted their illicit operations, the bulk of the Eight Fingers’s leadership and their direct subordinates had little reason to leave the urban areas of Re-Estize. By controlling the towns and cities of the Kingdom, they effectively controlled its manufacturing and trade. The wealth that they gained from their activities was a pittance compared to the vast quantities of food and raw resources that Re-Estize’s rural regions produced, but what the Eight Fingers stole was the excess production that was supposed to go towards the development of the Kingdom. As a result, every place that fell under the nefarious syndicate’s influence was condemned to a state of lawlessness and decay.

Liam and his sister had grown up in that hell. More importantly, they now knew how things were supposed to be. The problem was that people like Olin didn’t see things the same way. The man had only seen success from doing things his way, so Liam wouldn’t be surprised if every two or three moves that Olin made would – intentionally or unintentionally – hamper Countess Beaumont’s progress somehow.

How am I supposed to work with a guy like that?

The Sorcerous Kingdom wasn’t interested in weakening any of its collaborators in Re-Estize, so Liam couldn’t just kill the guy. Loosening the Eight Fingers’ stranglehold on Re-Estize in any significant way that didn’t directly benefit the Sorcerous Kingdom was also out of the question. It seemed that all he could do was hope that Countess Beaumont conducted her business in the city quickly and efficiently before returning to her fief where she could stay isolated from what was going on elsewhere.

Early that same night, they reached the Countess’ base camp, which had in turn returned from her inspection of the nearby mining villages. The wagon and its attendant tents sat exactly in the same spot outside the first mining village where they had been before. Liam received a few nods from the sharp-eyed sentries posted at the camp’s perimeter and he stopped to speak to the closest one. The woodsman removed his hood to reveal the face of a boy not much older than Liam. He supposed that followers of The Four would already consider him a young adult.

“Any trouble?” Liam asked.

The boy shook his head.

“None of the violent sort. Everyone’s bein’ kept warm and fed. Lady Beaumont’s as feisty as always.”

“So you’ve had trouble of the non-violent sort?”

“Not trouble trouble, mind you,” the sentry said. “Just seems like nothing’s enough for the Countess. Not enough people who can read or write. No one knows the law like she does. She’s been lookin’ for a dress, too.”

“A dress?” Liam frowned.

The boy shrugged in response.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

“Woman things, I reckon. I ain’t dumb enough to stick my nose in that.”

Is he implying that I am?

He probably was, though he would have liked to avoid ‘woman things’ whenever possible. Liam made his way straight to the Countess’ makeshift court, taking a deep breath as he steeled himself for whatever awaited him within.

The improvised shelter had undergone several improvements, which included an extension where two long tables with matching benches had been placed facing the central fire. Olin sat at the centre of one table, flanked by a few of his thugs. At the other table were a few of Olin’s men, who were enjoying their dinner together. When Countess Beaumont finally noticed Liam’s presence, her weary expression blossomed into a brilliant smile.

“Liam! Welcome back.”

“Thank you for your warm welcome, my lady.”

Liam made a sort of half-bow. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Claire, who was wearing her barmaid outfit, rushing out of the opposite entrance.

“Is everything alright?” He asked.

“Things are going about as well as can be expected,” the young noblewoman didn’t bother masking her sigh. “I’m afraid that nothing I’ve planned will proceed in reality until I can find some help.”

“Our work on the border is finished,” Liam said, “so we can get going whenever you’re ready.”

Claire reappeared again, bearing a heaping portion of dinner. She beelined straight towards Liam with a big smile of her own, nearly squishing the food between them as she brought herself as close as possible.

“I brought you dinner, dear,” she breathed.

“Uh, I can see that.”

The Countess cleared her throat, looking none too pleased by the actions of her Maid.

“Please have a seat, Liam. I’m sure you must be tired after all your hard work this week.”

“It wasn’t that bad for me,” Liam replied. “Reed and his men did most of the work.”

“I see,” Lady Beaumont shifted her gaze past Liam’s shoulder. “Thank you for your service, Mister Reed. You and your men will receive fair compensation as soon as we exchange our goods in the city.”

To Liam’s right, Reed made an awkward, wordless bow. A snort issued from one of the men at Olin’s table. Liam turned to face the Eight Fingers executive.

“The city’s more your turf,” Liam said. “What kind of trouble should we expect?”

“Anyone giving us trouble would be out of their fuckin’ minds,” Olin said as he leaned in on his elbow. “That being the case, if any trouble happens it’ll be from the Nobles.”

“Which Nobles?” Liam asked.

“All of them,” Olin answered with a sneer. “Whether they’re entitled little shitlings or Marquis Blumrush himself, don’t be surprised if they come after you for what they think you have.”

Liam glanced at Countess Beaumont, whose mouth had fallen open at the sheer amount of venom that laced Olin’s words. Had something happened to him in the past that warranted his response? It was equally as likely that he simply saw them as an obstacle to power and therefore an enemy that needed to be destroyed.

“I get that you’re not exactly fond of Nobles,” Liam said, “but my question was more along the lines of figuring out how much security we need. We’re going to be carrying a bunch of valuables and we need to be able to protect Lady Beaumont at all hours.”

“The trip to the city won’t be a problem so long as we’re recognised as a part of the Eight Fingers,” Olin said. “The same applies for most of the city aside from the Noble problem I mentioned.”

“Will bringing enough armsmen deter them?” Liam asked.

“That depends on who we’re dealing with. Minor Nobles would probably swallow their pride and look for someone else to pick on, but High Nobles might still raise a stink even if they’re faced with a regiment of armsmen. Of course, all bets are off if they’re drunk or on some sort of drug.”

“What about House Blumrush?”

“It’s best not to fight them,” Olin replied. “They have enough pride and money to bring every band of sellswords in the region down on your head over an imagined slight. Bribing the right people pretty much always works to smooth things out with them.”

Nothing that Olin mentioned came as a surprise, which was a relief. Liam’s briefing materials mentioned that the territories under House Blumrush were the worst parts of Re-Estize, so he half expected open turf wars erupting in the streets of Re-Blumrushur.

“So,” Countess Beaumont said, “in the end, how many men does that mean I should bring?”

“Anything out of the ordinary would attract too much attention,” Olin said. “I think you know what I mean by that.”

The young noblewoman bit her lip in vexation. Liam’s gaze went back and forth between the two.

“What does that mean?” He asked.

“Nobles have a nose for power,” Olin told him. “If our Countess here shows up with a larger-than-expected retinue, her peers will look into why that is. Not ideal if you’re trying to quietly exchange those materials of yours.”

“He’s right,” Lady Beaumont said. “House Beaumont’s rivals will do everything in their power to interfere with my transactions and everyone else will manoeuvre to gain various advantages related to our windfall. There’s a good chance that we’ll be caught in the resulting quagmire.”

Liam crossed his arms, remaining silent as the issue was discussed. According to Lady Wagner, the optimal solution was to send the materials to the Sorcerous Kingdom to sell. Alternatively, they could have gone to E-Raevel where the Countess was relatively unknown. After that, they could head to Re-Blumrushur with a much smaller party to find court staff. Everything was part of the test for Countess Beaumont, however, and Liam was instructed to leave all the Noble work to her.

Early the following morning, they broke camp and made their way back down to Beaumont Town. Despite the trip being downhill the entire way, it took several hours longer to arrive at their destination due to all of the taxes that the Countess had collected. The wagons loaded with iron ore trundled through the town gates long after sunset and they wasted no time going to the docks to load their barge. Liam minimised his presence, seating himself on a crate on the wharf to take in the goings-on around him.

The long loading process gave the town far too much time to react to their presence, and a curse sounded from Olin a few hours after their arrival. Claire and Lady Beaumont went to hide on the barge behind the boxes of cargo as a group of men bearing lamps and torches led a small procession to the waterfront. A tall blonde man in faded silks stepped forward to address them.

“You there!” The man gestured at Olin, “What are you doing at this late hour?”

“An early hour for us, m’lord,” the Barge’s captain stepped in to answer, “We’ll be casting off with our cargo come dawn.”

The man ran a critical eye over the length of the barge, then turned his attention to the men loitering on the wharf.

“These men are strange to me. I don’t recall any of them being a part of your crew.”

“They came in with us. Didn’t m’lord see?”

“I didn’t,” the lord replied. “What business brings them to Beaumont?”

Several of Olin’s men joined their boss upon hearing the pointed questioning. Some crossed their arms imposingly while others rested their palms on their sidearms. In response, the lord’s attendants stepped forward to make a threatening display of their own.

Is this seriously happening?

Liam suppressed a sigh: the scene reminded him of so many standoffs between rival houses in Hoburns. The difference was that there didn’t seem to be even a fraction of the discipline of Roble’s household retinues instilled in the men posturing before him. He looked over at the barge to confirm Lady Beaumont’s position, thinking his moves through in the event that a fight broke out.

“W-Wait, m’lord!” The captain waved his arms in a panic, “These’re Louis’ men! Y’know…big, ugly Louis. We don’t want no quarrel with him, yeah?”

The mention of the burly bandit’s name gave the nobleman and his companions pause. Olin didn’t look like he appreciated being cast as Louis’ crony. Several tense seconds passed before the lord clicked his tongue and turned back the way he came. His men were quick to follow suit. Within minutes, the sound of the river and men loading the remaining cargo was all that could be heard in the darkness of the night.

Liam went over to where Lady Beaumont and Claire were hiding to see how they were doing. The young noblewoman reached out to cling to him the moment he came close.

“Are you alright, my lady?” Liam asked.

The Countess nodded before peering over the crates of ore stacked beside her.

“A word from you might have been useful,” Olin’s voice came from behind Liam.

“It wouldn’t have been useful at all,” Countess Beaumont replied in a low voice. “If those useless lumps knew that I was here, they would have insisted on escorting me to the city.”

Olin snorted. Liam silently agreed with the man’s derisive assessment. Bluster and numbers could be leveraged effectively, but that sort of help was the last thing the Countess was looking for.

“If they have that much time and energy to spare,” Liam said, “they should be fixing up their fiefs like you are.”

“I don’t disagree,” Lady Beaumont replied, “but they certainly don’t see things that way. Honestly, I have no idea what’s going on inside their heads!”

“Aren’t you their liege?” Liam asked, “Why not just order them to get to work?”

“Only two of them are my vassals: Baron Hender – the one who was doing all the talking just now – and Baron Lyons. Baron Lyons is only five and he’s barely started on his letters and numbers, never mind everything else. And Baron Hender…when I reminded him of his duties, he looked at me as if I had gone insane! I’d have stripped him of his title right then and there, but I didn’t have the means to at the time and I certainly don’t have any time to waste on him now.”

“…are the other Nobles like that, as well?”

“I only know about the ones that I’ve been in contact with in the city,” Lady Beaumont replied. “To be honest, it’s quite difficult to tell how anyone is doing without a small army of informants at once’s service. The scions of any house prestigious enough to have a manor in the city know how to keep up appearances. Moreso than their immediate situation, I’m worried about their pedigree. Roughly a quarter of them are children who understandably aren’t capable of leading their households. Most of the rest are spares who unexpectedly inherited after the Battle of Katze Plains. Many of them were brought up with the expectation that they wouldn’t inherit or secure a valuable marriage, meaning there’s been minimal investment in their upbringing.”

“And you saw fit to exploit that,” Olin noted.

“Obviously,” the Countess tilted her head curiously. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“What do you mean by that?” Liam asked.

The barge shuddered as it was pushed off of its moorings into the fog-shrouded river. Now that they were safely away, Lady Beaumont visibly relaxed and set about making herself more comfortable.

“It isn’t as if I was hatching any dastardly plots,” she said. “I was simply leveraging my advantages in an attempt to improve House Beaumont’s standing. Little did I know that my house was in such a dire state.”

Her voice turned bitter at the last, and she seemed intent on taking out her frustrations by forcefully arranging her baggage in a variety of potentially comfortable configurations on the deck. After failing to find anything that pleased her, the Countess made a beckoning gesture to Reed.

“Mister Reed, could you and your men rearrange this cargo for me?”

The woodsman scanned the rows of wooden crates filled with iron ore before sending a confused look in their direction.

“…rearrange it, my lady? How?”

“Oh, you know…to take advantage of that wonderful magic item of Liam’s.”

“Ah. I’ll see what we can do, my lady.”

Reed went and gathered a handful of men. A few moments later, the captain of the barge started shouting at them.

“Are ya trying to drown us all, you crazy bastards?!”

“Huh? Whaddya mean?”

“Ya can’t just move all the cargo to one side like that! Lookit how tilted we are!”

“Oh. Uh…”

The men hastily moved some of the ore crates back to the other side of the ship, but they didn’t stop trying to figure out how to fulfil Lady Beaumont’s request. The captain released an exasperated sigh as he watched them.

“Just what in the name of The Four are you idiots up to?” He asked.

“We’re tryin’ to make rooms,” Reed answered absently. “Using the boxes as walls.”

“Rooms?”

“Yeah,” the woodsman nodded. “Rooms. Y’see, our friend over there has this magic item that’ll turn things as warm as a summer day. The catch is that ya gotta hold onto it or it’ll all blow away.”

“So that’s why you’re trying to make these ‘rooms’…”

“Exactly,” Reed grinned.

The captain nodded absently as he visibly processed the woodsman’s words. Liam compared Reed’s pitch to the one given by the mages from the Faculty of Alchemy. The questionable accuracy of his explanation aside, Reed was far better at getting his point across.

“But you said this is magic,” the captain said. “Is your ‘friend’ a witch?”

Reed sent a look over at Liam, who shook his head in response.

“Uh, I don’t think so,” Reed said. “The magic’s from an item.”

Liam produced the item from his pack and held it up in clear view.

“It looks like a barrel hoop,” the captain said.

“It actually is,” Liam told him.

“Our barrel hoops don’t do the thing he said.”

“It’s a magic barrel hoop,” Reed said as he threw an arm over the captain’s shoulder. “Just like the ones they put in all those fancy hotels in the capital. Wouldn’t ya like to enjoy that instead of some greasy Noble with four chins?”

“M-Me?”

“Ya think we’d leave ya out in the cold and wet?” The woodsman put on a hurt look, “You’ll have your own cabin as well. A captain’s cabin.”

“I don’t know…”

The captain’s twitching grin did little to back up his hesitant reply. Liam looked down at the magic item in his hand. It was quickly proving to be the best bargaining chip that he had.