Chapter 14

Morning arrived, and the four noblewomen gathered to review the new information that had been collected overnight. They discussed their findings over a late lunch, deciding that nothing significant enough had occurred to alter their course of action. Departing the encampment, with Ludmila present this time, the carriage made its way south towards Campbell Fassett’s administrative village.

It would be their second audience with the eldest son of the late Count Fassett: he had holed himself away in the barony that was once part of House Völkchenheim’s demesne. As they had come from the city, he was actually the first between the two siblings that they had visited. Like his sister, he had been all courtesy and smiles when he initially received them, but his hospitality grew cold upon being delivered the will of the House of Lords.

When it came down to their personal feelings on the dispute, all four of the visiting noblewomen actually favoured his sister, Jacqueline, as she had at least stepped forward to take the reins of leadership over her house with her father’s unceremonious demise. Campbell, on the other hand, was by all accounts a coward who had hidden himself away to avoid participating in a battle which – at the time – was considered a formality that carried little to no risk for someone in his position.

With her martial upbringing, Ludmila in particular had a very low opinion of him. Even though Florine had pointed out that it didn’t mean that Jacqueline wouldn’t have done the same in his position – noblewomen were not expected to attend battles at any rate – Ludmila still thought him craven: actively avoiding the obligations which came with his station.

Clara did not miss her dark glower.

“I hope you aren’t going to bite Campbell when you see him,” she said.

Florine and Liane laughed nervously, their eyes flashing uncertainly towards Ludmila.

“It’s not worth it,” Ludmila scowled. “I would never be able to forget the taste.”

After tracing the movements of his largest gatherings of supporters, Ludmila would remove them one group at a time with the assistance of the Shadow Demons until the trickle of bad news created a convincing enough idea that he had lost the majority of his power. After his new reality sunk in, they would confront him one last time. If he still insisted on pursuing his hopeless course, he would be forcefully removed from his seat, along with any of his vassals to be detained. Liane had voiced her opinion, saying that the whole effort was a waste of time and they should just drag both the siblings out of their manors since they were so obstinate, but Clara and Florine still wanted to give them a chance to forsake their old ways.

After hearing her convey Lady Shalltear’s words before falling asleep the previous night, Clara had become confident enough in their purpose that she was able to make light quips at Ludmila. The improved mood affected Liane and Florine as well. The two had still not reached the same level of assuredness as their seniors, however.

“I can’t argue with everything we’ve discovered so far,” Florine said as the carriage rolled through the village on the way to Campbell’s manor, “but should we really be doing this? This whole idea of dragging other nobles right out of their own fiefs…it’s really unheard of. It’s almost like those silly stories where heroes run around like crazy vigilantes meting out nonsensical caricatures of justice.”

“Well, unlike those vigilantes,” Liane said, "someone here actually has that kind of authority, as crazy as it may seem. Your territory didn’t have such a problem with almost everything being off of the highway, but my lord father and his deputies had to deal with an endless stream of crooks like these trying to smuggle slaves, narcotics and other contraband to the Empire. If there’s a way to quickly and precisely deal with one of the sources of this blight, then that means I can put my own time to better use on other things.”

“You’re making it sound like a matter of convenience,” Florine said.

“It is convenient,” Liane told her. “It’s also right and lawful and free of charge.”

Liane paused at the last and looked at Ludmila.

“Uh, what you’re doing is free, right?” She asked, “You’re not going to have an invoice delivered to House Fassett for shredding them to pieces, are you?”

“Eh?” The idea had not even entered into Ludmila’s mind at any point, so she looked towards Clara, “Should I be collecting dues?”

“If it costs you anything,” Clara replied, “you should certainly at least cover for your expenses.”

“Woah, stop!” Liane held out her hands, “Let’s see how this whole thing works out first before you start shopping for grim-looking stationery. I don’t mind providing accommodations and such when you’re doing your thing in my territory, but I’m half-expecting House Fassett to go up in smoke here.”

Ludmila felt the carriage shift as it angled up the incline leading to Campbell Fassett’s manor. As well-crafted as the magical suspension was, the carriage could not keep its occupants level when ascending anything beyond a shallow slope. Outside was a building with its grounds rapidly losing any semblance of having been maintained. Rather than the household servants that occupied the primary Fassett manor, this one was mostly dotted with several dozen rough looking men.

Florine drew the curtains on her side of the carriage closed as many turned their gazes towards the passing vehicle. Ludmila glanced over them in return on her side: the men seemed to come from all sorts of backgrounds. Most appeared to be burly farmers, woodcutters and other sorts of labourers. Few appeared to carry equipment beyond crudely fashioned polearms, tools and the garb associated with their regular professions. A small group of more conventionally-equipped fighting men stood in front of the manor entrance as the carriage rolled to a stop along the lane.

Four of the footmen interposed themselves between carriage and the well-armed men that came forward, while another opened the carriage door. Their threatening expressions loosened somewhat as Ludmila stepped out, followed by the other noblewomen, and she inspected the men standing in the way.

All wore chainmail over clean gambesons; their limbs were properly armoured as well. Most had open-faced sallets or kettle hats, carrying themselves in a way that suggested they were accustomed to moving around with the burden of their equipment. An arming sword and a long dagger hung from their belts and each held a three metre-long spear in a gauntleted hand and a kite shield over the opposite arm.

Jacqueline’s more lightly-equipped footmen at the town manor did not have the same, dangerous feeling about them: these were decidedly not regular members of house Fassett’s retinue, nor were they present the first time they had visited Campbell’s manor. Considering their roughly uniform equipment, she thought that they were likely mercenaries at best and brigands at worst.

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“Representatives from the House of Lords have arrived to speak with Campbell Fassett.”

The footman announcing their arrival clearly did not want to give their names to the thugs blocking the way. The two rows of men stood facing one another for a long moment, before one of the men barring the lane to the manor entrance stood aside and swept his arm out, bowing with a lopsided grin.

“The good lord’ll see ya,” he said in exaggerated tones.

The noblewomen exchanged uneasy glances, not knowing whether he was attempting a proper welcome or mocking them outright.

Watching the two Demons stir in her shadow, Ludmila stepped forward to accept the welcome before the standoff exploded into a one-sided slaughter. The Shadow Demons were explicitly instructed to act according to orders, but there was no telling what the limits of their patience were when it came to disrespecting representatives of the Sorcerer King’s official government – and by extension the sovereign himself.

A pair of their footmen rushed to get ahead of her, holding open doors and checking hallways as the man led the way. Unlike Jacqueline’s manor in the town to the north, this one was sparsely furnished and decorated. The absence of a regular household was conspicuous, and traces of dust and dirt collected in the halls.

“I wonder where all his servants went,” Florine mused.

“Was that a rhetorical question?” Liane scoffed under her breath.

Halfway down the corridor, they came to the entrance to the manor hall. Their guide opened the door and ushered them in with little ceremony. The noblewomen hovered at the poorly-lit entrance, waiting for some sort of announcement, but were greeted instead by the skinny man seated behind the elevated wooden table at the head of the hall instead.

“Ah, welcome again, my ladies,” Campbell Fassett rose with a smile. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit today?”

From under a mop of shaggy blonde hair, his blue eyes lingered over each in turn as they made their way before him. Lined against the oak supports of the room were six armed men, similar to the ones that they had encountered at the manor entrance. An additional pair of men stood along the wall behind his shoulders. The thick wooden door closed a bit too heavily to Ludmila’s ears, and both Liane and Florine started at the sound.

She saw a few of the men before them grin at their reaction. Clara was unamused as she led them forward. Ludmila waited on them a short distance away, finding a place along the wall to watch the proceedings.

“Have you taken the time to reconsider our offer?” She asked.

Campbell’s welcoming smile slipped off his face at her words and he reseated himself, placing his elbows on the table and folding his hands loosely under his pointed chin.

“I gave it some consideration, yes,” he answered, his gaze slowly passing between them again. “But my position remains unchanged. This dispute is an internal one and not even the entire House of Lords has any right to intervene. I have no interest in your attempt at meddling, and neither does my little sister, I reckon. Your empty threats mean nothing here.”

As the refusal was delivered in Campbell’s self-assured tones. From behind, Ludmila saw Liane and Florine visibly bristle. Much like his sister, he only perceived their message as meddling and opposition.

“I believe we’re retreading old ground,” Clara returned. “Our purpose was made clear the last time we met: we are trying to help the two of you to extricate yourselves from your situation, and I believe what we offer is extremely generous. The Royal Court will not share the same understanding and tolerance when they turn their eye this way.”

“Oh?” He raised an eyebrow, “Tolerance for what? Everything I've done here is well within my legal rights. As I said, empty threats – I am simply amazed that you can even stand here and continue with this embarrassing course of discussion.”

“And what of everything else?” Clara asked.

“Hm?”

“It is no great secret what goes on in this demesne,” Clara said. “Do you believe the Royal Court’s inspector will turn a blind eye to all of this lawlessness?”

“Lawlessness?” Campbell said, “You know not of what you speak, Countess Corelyn. My lord father and his vassals have always enforced justice in our lands. If the inspector from the Royal Court doubts this, all he needs to do is request the county records for his own examination.”

The nobleman drained his pewter goblet and set it back down on the hardwood surface of his table loudly. At the sound, a figure appeared from behind a thin divider that separated the lord’s dais from some unseen servants’ entrance.

Dressed in a simple garment woven out of undyed wool, a woman appeared cradling a clear decanter of wine. Long, green hair hung halfway down her back, with loose strands partially covering her face. They waited as she came forward to refill Campbell’s cup; he did not offer any refreshment to his guests before she turned to leave.

“That is the first of your household I’ve seen today,” Clara said. “The last time we came, there were many others – where have they all disappeared to?”

“Their services were no longer necessary,” he replied, “so I had them released from my service. This one is quite special, however. She has been a member of our household for as long as I can remember. It seemed a pity to let her go so I kept her to attend to me and the men. She is quite remarkable: everything is handled with great skill.”

The corner of Campbell’s mouth turned up slightly, and several of the men around the room chuckled. Clara’s voice hardened as she pressed her line of query.

“Did you release your servants, or did you sell them?”

“My, who is retreading old ground now?” Campbell took a fresh sip from his goblet. “Slavery is illegal, is it not? House Fassett abides by the law as upstanding members of the nobility. Let us not speak of such distasteful things.”

“This…company of men was not present during our last visit,” Clara pressed, “and they are certainly not your household footmen. Where did they come from, and how did you pay them? How will you continue to pay for their upkeep? With things as they are, your current incomes are nowhere near enough to sustain this rate of maintenance.”

“That would be my private business,” Campbell motioned with his hand dismissively, “and none of yours. When this official from the capital arrives to make his inspection, he will find no problems with House Fassett. The Royal Court would be pleased, even, knowing that my sister’s ridiculous farce has been decisively resolved without need for their assistance.”

Clara looked to either side, but none of them had any clue as to why Campbell had said such a thing.

Ah, I’m an idiot.

Even before he finished, Ludmila realized that they had made a monumental blunder. She fought to maintain the serene expression expected of a Lady-in-Waiting, all the while wishing she could reach out and wipe the smug smile off of Campbell’s face. How did Aemilia manage to do this all the time?

“What do you mean by this?” Clara asked.

“It is as I say,” he said with a patronizing smile. “Reports have reached me that my sister has foolishly left the town undefended, scattering her men into the surroundings. I know a golden opportunity when I see one.”

“We did not encounter any armed men on the road leading here,” Clara said.

“Of course not,” he scoffed. “Sending so many armed men north up the highway would surely attract her notice. They were sent through the forest trails this morning. My men will descend on the county manor without warning, and that will be that. That woman never had any right to rule this land, and now she has proven herself unsuited to be it’s protector.”

“You actually believe that the Royal Court will accept this?” Clara said.

“Of course,” he replied. “I am the rightful heir of House Fassett, and my foolish sister is nothing more than a usurper. Her rebellion is in flagrant violation of the laws of succession, and I am enforcing justice – as is my right."

“And what of everything you’ve done to help finance these men to enact this ‘justice’?” Clara asked, “Do you believe that you will be forgiven for this?"

“I have no idea what you are talking about,” Campbell said. “This adamant insistence of yours is truly puzzling.”

“The officials of the Sorcerous Kingdom will not suffer these games,” Clara told him, “and they see more than you think. These old and underhanded ways of your house will work no longer: the letter of the law will not shield you from its intent. This is Re-Estize no longer, Campbe–”

“Count!” He cut her off, voice raised, “I am Count Fassett. House Fassett is the most venerable family in the duchy, and I am the Lord of House Fassett. It has barely been a month since you’ve somehow come into your title, and I will suffer the patronizing tone of an upstart baroness no longer! You will show me the respect I am accorded, Lady Corelyn.”

Clara’s amethyst eyes narrowed as the proud words washed over her. Seeing her friend’s reaction, Ludmila steeled herself.

“Where was all this courage when you cowered away from your duty in battle?” Clara’s clear voice sliced through Campbell’s bluster.

The silence which followed barely lasted two seconds, but it seemed to stretch on after the cutting remark. All at once, Campbell jumped up from his seat in a fury, his face turning red, then purple; veins bulging over his temples. His maddened, bloodshot eyes fixed on Countess Corelyn as he sputtered impotently for several moments.

“OUT!” His shout reverberated around the hall, “Consider yourselves fortunate you are here as messengers, or I would have you stripped and beaten for your slander!”

Ludmila rejoined Countess Corelyn as Clara turned and walked away, calmly leading her entourage towards the entrance of the Hall. Campbell’s seething breaths issued loudly from behind them.

“Get out, NOW!”

Campbell’s pewter goblet landed to the side of them. The dented vessel bounced off of a wooden bench and sprayed its dark content against the wall before clattering away.