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Chapter 7
How long has it been since I've worn a normal outfit?
A gentle breeze brushed over the skirts of Ludmila’s dress as she strolled down the streets of Karlsheim. It was the dress she had proudly purchased in E-Rantel over two years ago, with its fresh spring look and ambitious – at least ambitious for her – bust.
That ambition had subsequently been downsized by her household half a year previous. It was as if even Ludmila’s loyal retainers were telling her to give up on her hopes and dreams for greater feminine charm. At least Lady Shalltear had generously provided a secret weapon to help Ludmila face her ‘modest’ eternity.
While she wasn’t ungrateful for the ‘casual outfit’ that had been bestowed upon her by Lady Shalltear, Ludmila wasn’t sure how Lady Shalltear managed to wear the same clothing every day for weeks on end. This in itself was an indication of the momentous economic changes that had already started to reshape the Sorcerous Kingdom.
Even for Nobles, having more than one or two outfits to wear during the day was considered a luxury afforded only to the wealthy. This usually meant ‘city Nobles’ and well-to-do Merchants. As a rural aristocrat, Ludmila had one regular outfit just a year previous. If it needed to be washed or mended, she did it in her shift.
It wasn’t uniform across every territory – it was mostly happening in the territories of her friends – but with the integration of Undead labour and large-scale utility magic in the Duchy of E-Rantel came a sharp rise in discretionary incomes, starting with those in primary industries. Farmers, woodsmen and quarry workers were suddenly possessed of far more discretionary wealth than their lords had just a season before. They had the coin and they wanted to spend it and the already understocked markets were overwhelmed by the swarm of ravenous commoners throwing money at them.
Many staple industries became luxury industries; many luxury goods became common goods. Prices for imports seemed to rise with no end in sight while at the same time the seemingly inexorable collapse in export prices worried administrators to no end. Merchants and artisans worked furiously trying to sate the new appetite for everything. Ludmila could only sigh in relief that her demesne was isolated from the rest of the Duchy. Still, the same fever had gripped them as well: new cuisine, fashion, furniture and all manner of magical devices were in demand.
In terms of fashion, it meant that most women now had multiple outfits. Those in the city had one for each day of the week, which was utterly absurd. As a result, when in the Sorcerous Kingdom, Ludmila was left feeling more than a bit stale wearing her ‘casual outfit’ every day and she worried that others would see her unchanging wardrobe as odd. That her physical appearance fundamentally never changed already caused worries over how people would eventually perceive her existence.
Her friends, closest retainers, the Sorcerer King and several of his servants already knew that she was an Undead being, but it wasn’t something that they disclosed to the public. Others who saw Ludmila over the years would inevitably realise that something was amiss, but she felt that her perpetual Undead state was better left unknown by the population at large. Time would accustom the Sorcerous Kingdom’s citizens to the diversity of its society and trust in the benevolence of the Sorcerer King would grow to the point that a mortal becoming Undead wouldn’t be considered a cause for concern…or at least she hoped that would be the case.
Ludmila’s decision to wear regular clothing had little to do with these weighty considerations, however. Since she was currently away from any place that might see conflict requiring protection beyond her natural defences, she took advantage of the opportunity to put on a fresh look. It was certainly less flashy than what she usually wore, but this had the advantage of allowing more casual interactions in the places where she stopped to observe the Empire and converse with the locals.
Wearing regular clothing came with its own challenges…no, it wasn’t that regular clothing was ‘challenging’ to wear: it was that magical equipment was too convenient.
Enchanted equipment – be it weapons, armour, clothing or accessories, adjusted itself to the user. Not only did it do so in the way that it fit the wearer, but it could take on certain ‘properties’ as well. This made movement effortless and the physical effects of high-speed movement – such as riding on a Dragon or Soul Eater – were negated by immunities and damage reduction.
Magical clothing also would not tear or otherwise take damage without being subjected to damage that could affect their durability, such as sundering attacks. Ludmila’s movements were restricted in mundane garb as she had to make sure not to accidentally cause damage to it with her greatly-increased physical ability. Having something happen like catching her sleeve on a table corner would have the sleeve tear, drag the table along or some result that combined the two outcomes.
Ludmila stopped at the window of a modest boutique, eyeing the fashions on display. An old solution was probably the best for her situation. With the limited number of outfits a person usually had in the region, accessories were what an individual used to appeal to others. Fresh flowers; a hairpin, comb or shawl; gloves or jewellery – boutiques were as much shops that sold accessories as they were shops that sold clothing.
The Sorcerer King and his powerful vassals always mentioned things like ‘equipment slots’ and how one was limited in what they could wear, but as far as Ludmila knew, regular people had no such restrictions. Putting on a scarf or a shawl didn’t seem to interfere with anything aside from them staying on if she quickswapped from one set of equipment to the other. The need to do so would probably be a rare occurrence in places where she would wear such accessories, so it was an option that merited experimentation.
After purchasing a few things from several shops along her meandering route, she followed the aromas of food to one of Karlsheim’s plazas. As with every other busy part of the city, the decidedly irregular distribution of its population was on display. There were far more men than women in the area; many of them sporting uniforms that marked them as members of the Imperial Army.
The reason for this was plain enough: the Sixth Legion had come to the Wyvernmark. Soldiers came to spend their leave in the urban centres of the march and, between the Sixth Legion and those who arrived to take advantage of their presence, Karlsheim’s population was a third higher than normal.
General Kabein’s predictions about the Sixth Legion so far appeared to be unerringly correct. Out of the uniforms marked with the insignia of the Empire’s new expeditionary army, not a man over thirty could be seen. That they wore their uniforms or tabards while off duty spoke volumes in itself. The young soldiers carried themselves in a sort of blithe manner reminiscent of Silver-ranked Adventurers in the Sorcerous Kingdom just before they were flattened by an Ogre with a stick.
She assumed that not all of the soldiers were like this, of course, but there were certainly more than enough roaming the streets of Karlsheim. They travelled in packs, interacting loudly with their fellows and conducting ‘business’ in a similarly brash way. Women who may or may not have appreciated their attention were relentlessly set upon every half block by offers of food, drink, gifts, entertainment and other attempts to impress them by hopeful men seeking companionship.
Nothing indicated that they were doing anything they explicitly shouldn’t, but they seemed a borderline nuisance. The men of the Fifth Legion stationed in the city appeared hesitant to call them out for their behaviour, yet were still ready to act if things got out of hand.
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Rather than linger to sample the local fare, Ludmila headed straight to the local DEATH BREAD. As with other locations in the Empire, there was no queue.
“Hold on a minute, miss,” a voice called out to her. “I wouldn’t go there if I were you.”
Ludmila slowed and turned her attention to a tall, dark-haired young man leaning against the corner of a nearby building. Even without a direct assessment, she could already tell he was fairly strong as far as the average imperial soldier went.
The cowl that came with her magical equipment drastically enhanced her concealment abilities. Without it, she was about as stealthy as an upper Silver-rank Ranger from the Sorcerous Kingdom’s Adventurer Guild. The distance from which he detected her in the busy city street put him on par with veteran Imperial Knights in terms of his raw capabilities.
Like many of the Sixth Legion’s soldiers present in the city, he wore a tabard identifying his unit. Beneath it appeared to be the scale armour of a Ranger. Despite his apparent strength, he had not yet been knighted. Four men in identical tabards were gathered near him. They did not appear to notice her until she stopped to reply.
“Why not? I won’t have to wait and the store appears to be a member of the Baker’s Guild.”
“That’s true,” the dark-haired man replied, “but haven’t you seen a shop like this before? Well, they’re only in the cities, I guess. The food from these shops is from the Sorcerous Kingdom.”
“Is there something wrong with that?”
The man gave her an odd look. Her response was clearly not expected. They probably weren’t heedless enough to make any direct remarks about the Sorcerous Kingdom’s goods, so Ludmila was curious about the direction he would take their conversation.
“I tell you what,” he straightened from his spot on the wall. “We’re looking to have some fun and we’ve got plenty of coin – why not spend a night on the town with us?”
“Are Demihumans the only thing they trained you to look out for?” A gravelly voice rose from behind her, “She’s out of your league, boy.”
An angry retort died on the Ranger’s lips as his attention went past Ludmila’s shoulder. The other men similarly paled and stood at attention. An aged man in the uniform of a Fifth Legion Captain appeared on her right.
“Apologies, my lady,” the Captain said. “The Sixth Legion’s been deployed on field exercises for months. Goblins and Noblewomen alike become fair game at that point.”
As if realising that he had blindly approached an aristocrat, the Ranger discreetly retreated with his companions, melting into the crowd. The old Captain snorted and shook his head in disdain. Ludmila lowered her head with a smile.
“Thank you for your assistance, Captain…”
“Ward, my lady,” the Captain bowed slightly. “Karl Heren Dale Ward…and I doubt you needed my assistance. It’s those blind fools who should be thanking me – I doubt they understood how close they were to getting buried in that damn wall.”
A short laugh escaped Ludmila’s lips.
“I wouldn’t have gone that far, Captain Ward,” she said. “Aside from their…identification issues, they seem like normal, healthy men to me. Ludmila Zahradnik, by the way.”
The Captain paused briefly at her introduction.
“That’s generous of you to say so, Baroness,” he said.
“You know who I am?”
“Only by the name,” Captain Ward replied. “It was mentioned in the briefing that came with all those Undead. Gregan’s going to go into hysterics if he finds out you’ve been here watching all this on the sly.”
“I thought it prudent to get a feel for these territories and their people before beginning my work here,” Ludmila said. “On that note, are you a local lord?”
“I have a barony on the border southwest of here. What of it?”
“If it isn’t too much of an imposition, my lord, I’d like to learn about the Wyvernmark from you.”
Captain Ward looked around at the crowds of soldiers before replying with a sour look.
“I guess you won’t learn much with all these louts prowling about. Do you require a horse, my lady? I have to get back to my jurisdiction before a certain idiot gets it burned down by Demihumans.”
“Please lead the way, Captain Ward,” Ludmila replied. “I’ll call my mount over once we’re out of the city.”
Ludmila followed the captain through the city streets and out of Karlsheim’s southwestern gate. When her Soul Eater arrived to join them, the nobleman gave it a dubious look.
“Are you sure that’s safe to ride?”
“It’s been with me for the last three weeks,” Ludmila replied. “A couple of the men from the Second Legion rode it around, as well. Speaking of which, I haven’t yet seen any of the Undead forces assigned to the Wyvernmark.”
Baron Ward fell silent at her words for a moment before turning his attention to the highway.
“…this way, my lady.”
The man urged his horse into a trot, leading them onto a rural road that branched off of the imperial highway several kilometres away from the city. Their route went past fields being prepared for spring planting before descending into a shallow, wooded valley. Baron Ward stopped roughly five hundred metres into the trees. Ludmila’s eyes narrowed at his unspoken implication. She went a hundred metres further down the road.
『First Cavalry Squad, report.』
A dozen seconds after she cast her voice into the gloom, a group of Death-series servitors appeared from the trees. They formed a column before her. Ludmila’s ire rose as she reached out and plucked blades of dried grass caught in the barding of one of the Death Cavaliers’ mounts. Her quiet voice barely carried over the winter wind.
“How long have you been here for?”
“Since coming within sight of the city walls, my lady,” the Death Cavalier replied.
Her fingernails dug into her palms as she looked down at the carpet of dead leaves. It was over a month since she had handed them over at the border of Wagner County.
…and I’ve been casually shopping for accessories.
“I’m sorry.”
“Please do not be, my lady. Whatever our task may be, we are proud to serve His Majesty.”
Baron Ward’s warhorse whinnied nervously in the distance. The Death-series servitors shifted back as Ludmila’s mood turned foul.
“If we have failed in some way…”
“It’s not you,” she looked back up at the Death Cavalier. “Clean yourselves up – you’re coming with me.”
Ludmila turned her gaze past the bare branches overhead, towards the clear azure sky. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, working down the fury threatening to overwhelm her senses.
Between what she saw from the men at the Wagner County border, those of the Second Legion and the soldiers of the Wyvernmark, where was the realm of reasonable expectation? Did the results of her assignment in the northwest set her hopes too high?
Unlike the situation with the Viridian Dragon Lord, there was nothing that encouraged the Imperial Army to rely on the Death-series servitors. She believed that the lack of urgency in the south would mean that she would have an easier time working with the people here, but it seemed that the opposite was the case.
Ludmila returned to Baron Ward with the Undead column following neatly in her wake. The old Captain seemed entirely unperturbed by their approach, watching them with his wrists crossed over the pommel of his saddle.
“I haven’t felt a fury like that since General Belibad’s wife found out about his mistress,” he said. “You off to send some heads rolling?”
“It shouldn’t come to that, Captain Ward,” Ludmila replied.
“That’s a pity.”
“A pity?”
“I’m an old man, my lady,” the Captain said. “I’ve killed plenty and I’ve seen plenty killed. Dying by the hand of a beautiful woman isn’t a bad way to go by my estimation. Well, I guess it’s more than those villains in the Sixth Legion deserve.”