Chapter 8

The Undead column following Ludmila through the fields was about as conspicuous as one would expect, though it went by so quickly that few had time to react beyond scrambling for ‘safety’. With the Undead in the Wyvernmark sitting idle for over a month and their integration with the Imperial Army essentially nonexistent, Ludmila spared little thought for their superficial and temporary reactions.

They went around villages as going through them would slow their progress down. Aside from that, she let people think what they would, stewing in silence as they rode along. Baron Ward slowed his pace near the top of the hill they were ascending, bringing his warhorse alongside her Soul Eater.

“There’s a town in the valley on the other side of this ridge, my lady,” he told her. “We’ll be staying there for the night. What will you be doing with these fellows?”

“Will our accommodations be the local manor or the local garrison?”

“Once he learns of your arrival,” the Baron’s expression tightened, “Count Kurze will insist on providing hospitality. You’ll have to forgive my liege for his behaviour while we’re there.”

A gust of wind whipped over them. Ludmila narrowed her eyes at the nobleman’s words.

“Will Lord Kurze be a problem?”

Lord Ward’s weathered face softened somewhat. He glanced over at her with a reproachful look.

“It’s clear that you’re one of us,” he said. “You even have that judgemental attitude that all our youngsters tend to harbour.”

Ludmila looked to the side and sighed, her lips turning up in a self-deprecating smile at his observation.

“Apologies, my lord,” she replied. “It’s something that I’ve been struggling with. If they are around, my friends point it out whenever it becomes excessive, but this attitude always inevitably escapes to bludgeon whoever happens to be the subject of my attention at the time.”

“That’s just the way it is,” the Baron told her. “Frontier Nobles are born and raised to focus on ‘problems’ because the problems that we face place us in direct mortal peril. Learning how it hurts, how it helps, and harnessing the best elements of that nature is a part of growing up for all of us. As for Count Kurze, his issues aren’t explicitly malignant: the old lord passed just under two years ago, so he’s still getting a handle on everything.”

By his tone, it appeared that Baron Ward was looking out for his young liege rather than being disparaging of him. She took a deep breath, realigning her mental stance. At least the aged Noble was well aware of the challenges that faced Ludmila when it came to how she weighed and measured the world around her.

“Has House Ward always been under House Kurze?”

“Since before the Empire was the Empire,” Lord Ward nodded. “We’re all descended from the people that came out of the rubble here.”

The column crested the ridge and Ludmila examined the town laid out below. Generations of gradual expansion were made clear from their vantage, but the patterns of construction suggested something that she had also noticed in the northwestern regions of the Empire.

“Was this town built on top of something else, my lord?”

“I did say that we were descended from the people that came out of the rubble, my lady.”

“And the cause of that rubble was the Demon Gods.”

“The very same,” the Baron nodded. “Let me guess: that temple schooling of yours taught you that the people here are descended from those who migrated from the Theocracy after the Demon Gods’ rampage.”

“Do you mean to say that it isn’t true?”

“It’s true, in part. Some people came from the Theocracy. Others came from the east, but most were survivors that lived here before that.”

This was a possibility that Ludmila and her friends had considered. With the physical evidence and scattered records from Feoh Berkana as well as what they had seen in the Empire, they would be hard-pressed to refute the fact that Humans did dwell in these lands before the appearance of the Demon Gods. The details, however, remained clouded and they still hadn’t uncovered enough of the past to make anything but loose speculations.

“If you know more about that history, my lord,” she said. “I’d like to ask you about it when we have the opportunity.”

“Of course, my lady,” Baron Ward replied. “It’ll have to be some other day, however – Lord Kurze will likely be taking advantage of the time he has with you.”

The town – which was named after its ruling house – was built on the junction of two imperial highways. Over two hundred kilometres further west was Engelfurt, while the northwestern route crossed south of the lake where Baroness Noia’s land was, eventually joining the highway between Engelfurt and Arwintar. A small river meandered in from the southwest through a gentle valley populated by vineyards and orchards, running through the middle of Kurze to flow northwest along the highway through similar landscapes beyond. Low mountains stretched across the southern horizon, their sparsely-forested peaks already absent of any winter snow.

Eyes tracing the modest stone wall ringing the town, Ludmila wondered where she could put the Undead cavalry squad.

“How is Lord Kurze’s relationship with his people?” She asked.

“That’s one of those things he’s still trying to get a handle on,” Lord Ward answered, “so you shouldn’t expect the townsfolk to have adamantite wills. Though we’re in the marches, House Kurze is a civilian house. It didn’t take much to restore these lands, so they’ve been well-developed for over a century.”

“But they can reinforce their people, yes?”

A Noble’s ability to bolster their subjects was something that Ludmila and her friends had been trying to measure over the months and a subject of great interest to the Sorcerous Kingdom’s central administration. By comparing the data meticulously gathered and organised by their Elder Lich aides, they found that the civilian Nobles who successfully harnessed their abilities provided greater economic benefits than Ludmila did. This turned her into a less-desirable Noble from an economic standpoint, but the other Nobles just saw that as common sense. She was a martial Noble, and martial Nobles served a distinctly separate role from civilian ones.

The effect that Ludmila had on her subjects was harder to qualify and quantify, as much of it did not appear to directly factor into the information that the Elder Lich administrators collected. This was further obfuscated by the idea that martial Nobles were also Commanders to a greater degree than civilian Nobles, so the line between what the ‘Commander’ side of their job class offered and any unique benefits that stemmed specifically from being a martial Noble was something that couldn’t be drawn until the Sorcerous Kingdom raised more ‘pure’ Commanders for the Royal Army.

Roughly speaking, Ludmila suspected that a martial Noble’s benefits revolved around their place as ‘bastions’ of Human society. Collective and personal morale, higher degrees of martial competency and the sort of ‘resilience’ – both mental and physical – that people required to weather the trials of life in dangerous environs could be observed in her subjects. It was made even more apparent by the fact that all of her Human migrants were from the interior, yet smoothly adapted to life in her poorly-developed lands.

“They can,” Baron Ward said, “but it’s difficult. Frontiersmen flock to the banners of their lords because of what they represent. Civilians in developed territories are more…divided, if you get my meaning. Without a cause or purpose that unifies their people, a civilian Noble is hard-pressed to produce similar results across their fiefs.”

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“Is that why the Imperial Magic Academy is the way it is?”

“That’s pretty sharp of you. The Emperor of that time established the current system for precisely that reason, but he couldn’t get it set up right. It’s not something you can simply teach or instil in a classroom.”

“But if he understood what was going on, surely he must have passed that knowledge on to be developed and refined into something that works.”

Baron Ward let out a low chuckle.

“The inexperienced and foolish like to think that their efforts will go exactly as planned, but the world rarely works like that. Things get in the way. A hundred different agendas competing for attention and resources; new and ‘better’ ideas. For every visionary, there’s an entire generation that can only see the pebbles at their feet or the shadows of the past. For all of his achievements, that Emperor died a bitter man because he couldn’t get the one thing he knew he had to finish finished.”

“Dowager Duchess Gushmond doesn’t appear to share your opinion of that Emperor.”

“Oh, you’ve met that old goat, have you?” Lord Ward raised an eyebrow, “I’ll tell you right now that she does. The Emperor was divided between seeing to the Empire’s immediate, practical needs and what it would eventually need. The former won out. He realised too late that he had entrusted too much to a man who saw the Empire as a ‘project’ to help pursue his personal ambitions. By then, the Empire was well on its way to being what you see today.”

“The more I hear about Fluder Paradyne, the less I like him…but is he really that terrible?”

“Where is he right now?”

“…I don’t know, my lord.”

“Neither does anyone else, but I bet you he dropped the Empire like a hot potato for some new and better thing. He’s officially ‘retired’, but men like that don’t just retire. Anyway, let’s leave that squad of yours in this field here while we inform Count Kurze that you’re about to turn his territory into a circus.”

The Baron indicated a pasture roughly two kilometres from the town. Ludmila left the Death-series servitors and her Soul Eater lined up along a fence not far from the highway.

“It couldn’t be that bad,” Ludmila sent a look in the old Nobleman’s direction. “E-Rantel had hundreds of Undead stationed as sentries after the annexation and everyone just went into hiding.”

“Oh, I’m sure he’ll love that,” Lord Ward said. “The place will be paralysed just before the planting season. Let’s go – Kurze Manor is in the northern section of the town.”

They walked past the line of wagons waiting to enter the town gate. One of the customs officers immediately recognised Baron Ward and quickly went through his procedures before letting them through.

“Will someone be calling ahead?”

“The Imperial Knights at that gate will be running to inform the garrison, the Count and whoever else they’re whispering to. I’m surprised the Karlsheim garrison didn’t send someone running after you when you were there.”

“They might have,” the corner of her lip turned up slightly, “but I was probably a bit difficult for an aide to find in those crowds…and wouldn’t it make more sense for the customs office to keep me with them and send for someone to pick me up?”

“It would, but the way you are right now, I doubt anyone would dare detain you.”

Ludmila sighed, once again clearing away the tangle of annoyed feelings that had slowly crept back into her as they made their way along. Baron Ward said that it was something that Frontier Nobles eventually learned how to harness, but would that apply to her? Unlike living beings, whose attitudes and outlook changed as time and age wore on, Ludmila would always remain ‘herself’. Perhaps the impetuousness of youth would stay with her for the rest of her existence.

Much like her friends saw Dowager Duchess Gushmond as a venerable member of Noble society to look up to, Ludmila viewed Baron Ward in the same light and she was already grateful for his insight. The experience of the Frontier Lord’s long watch had forged and tempered a character that she could only aspire to. He was a mountain that stood tall and calmly weathered whatever the world sent his way. The man didn’t even bat an eyelash at the Undead.

Ludmila followed alongside him as he walked his warhorse along the cobblestone highway that also served as the main street of the town. They passed an alley where she noted several wagons being filled with tools not meant for timber or the local crops.

“Is there a mine in the region somewhere?” She asked.

“Orensted,” Lord Ward replied. “It’s at the foot of those mountains that you see sticking out to the west of here. A whole slew of issues have risen around it recently.”

“What kind of issues?”

“All of them. I’m sure Count Kurze will be more than happy to dump his worries in your lap. This way.”

They went right at the intersection of the two imperial highways, crossing over an old stone bridge before coming up to a walled estate built along the river’s banks. Through the gate, a manor roughly twice as large as the guest manors in E-Rantel dominated carefully-manicured grounds which were decidedly unassuming compared to what she had seen in Arwintar’s First-class District. The two footmen at the entrance nodded in recognition at Baron Ward’s approach.

“Lord Ward,” one of the men in brown-and-grey livery greeted him. “Welcome back. Will you be staying for the night?”

“If the Count would be so gracious,” Baron Ward replied. “This is Baroness Zahradnik – she’s come to the Wyvernmark on a…tour.”

“This way, please. Lord Kurze has already been informed of your arrival.”

Several maids and footmen awaited them at the landing of the manor. They cast puzzled looks behind Ludmila.

“There is no baggage to handle,” she told them. “I’ve not brought along a retinue, either.”

Two chambermaids – who introduced themselves as Ophelia and Iris – led her off to a guest room, though their confusion over the odd situation seemed to mount as they attended to her nervously. Ludmila could only make attempts at small talk as there was nothing for them to do.

“Have you been with House Kurze for long?” She asked.

“Oh yes, my lady,” Ophelia, the elder of the maids replied. “Our families have all served in the Kurze Household for four generations, at least.”

“Does the Count have a family of his own?”

The maid nodded with an affectionate smile.

“A wife of five years; three children. Two girls and a boy.”

It seemed that the future of House Kurze was well in hand. Like the households of her friends, Count Kurze and his family had the support of those who had worked together to build House Kurze for generations. This was assuming that the man ruled well and didn’t draw the ire of the Empire’s central administration.

There was an awkward moment while Ludmila wondered how she would change. The maids were obviously waiting to help her, but she didn’t need them to. She resisted the urge to squirm under their expectant looks. After several moments, she started to pull her ‘casual’ outfit from her Infinite Haversack, laying it over the table.

“Are you familiar with magical containers?” Ludmila asked.

“N-no, my lady,” the senior chambermaid answered. “Is this the reason why you have no baggage?”

“That’s right,” Ludmila replied, lightly patting the pouches on either hip. “Between these two containers, I can carry quite a lot with a minimum of hassle…but I think they’re also turning me into a packrat.”

She finished pulling out the last of her clothing, then took a Trooper’s Towel in hand.

“Do you know what this is?”

“Yes, my lady. Does that mean you won’t need a bath drawn?”

Ludmila nodded as the chambermaids started to figure out how her things fit together. They grew wide-eyed as they examined the magical garments. The younger maid slipped on a glove, wiggling her fingers experimentally after it adjusted to her hand.

“Iris!” Ophelia hissed.

“I-I’m sorry, my lady!” Iris dipped her head several times, “I just–”

“It’s alright,” Ludmila said. “They’re probably not expecting us at dinner for a while yet and magic items are next to impossible to damage without the right techniques. Since you’ve already put that glove on, could you try lifting the edge of the bed? There is something that I’m curious about.”

The young maid hesitated for a moment before reaching down to grip the solid oak bed frame. She gave up after a few tries.

“I can’t,” she said. “It’s too heavy – it won’t even budge.”

“Now put on the other glove and try again.”

Iris did as Ludmila instructed, lifting the bed with no visible exertion. The other maid stared, mouth hanging open.

“I suppose that answers that question,” Ludmila said. “Thank you, Miss Iris.”

The chambermaid gingerly set down the bed, shifting it a few times as she tried to put it back exactly where it had been. Ludmila idly wondered if Florine would pick up and throw Liane when their mischievous friend misbehaved one day. Or maybe she already had.

“Is there anything we need to prepare for you at all, my lady?” The senior chambermaid asked.

“No, thank you,” Ludmila answered. “I’m travelling with Baron Ward and we’ll be away in the morning, so these accommodations that you’ve provided are more than sufficient. Please thank the rest of the Kurze Household for their hospitality.”