Chapter 9

To Ludmila’s surprise, Count Kurze was a young man that couldn’t have been more than a few years over twenty. That he had only been married for five years hinted at this, but she merely assumed that there might have been some complications in his pursuit of family life. People like Lord Anoch existed, after all.

Countess Kurze was present as well, seated beside her husband at a polished oak dining table set with large candles. The straw-haired noblewoman was of an age with Count Kurze or perhaps slightly younger, dressed similarly to how the Nobles of the same rank in Re-Estize would be out in their territories. Baron Ward was seated beside the Count, out of his armour and wearing simple garb he had probably packed for his journey.

The hall’s occupants rose to their feet as Ludmila entered. A row of torches along either wall cast long shadows as she approached the raised dais where they awaited her.

“Welcome, Baroness Zahradnik,” Count Kurze bowed slightly. “You’ll have to forgive our lack of a proper welcome upon your arrival – I was finishing up some pressing matters here in the hall and the Countess was seeing to our youngest.”

“Please think nothing of it, my lord,” Ludmila returned his greeting with a respectful curtsey, “our visit was rather impromptu. Thank you for offering us your hospitality.”

After Lord Kurze introduced his wife, Wilma, Ludmila joined them at the table beside her. A footman came forward to fill her glass with red wine and a group of maids brought in an opening course of vegetable soup sprinkled with crumbled sausage and accompanied by rolls of fresh, buttery bread.

“I hope it’s to your taste, my lady,” Count Kurze said. “The changes in the Katze Marches have led to all sorts of culinary experimentation.”

“If it was produce meant for the Imperial Army,” Ludmila replied, “I’m surprised we haven’t been buried in potatoes already.”

Count Kurze let out a short laugh.

“They’re coming, don’t you worry. To be honest, I wouldn’t mind this change in the seasonal fare at all. As winter goes on, it always seems like more carrots, radishes and beets make their way into the meals no matter how the cook plans ahead.”

The household staff appeared again, bearing entrées that included roasted duck, potatoes prepared in three different ways, steamed cabbage rolls and a tart sauce Ludmila had never encountered before. After a few minutes of sampling what was offered, the Count visibly collected himself before addressing Baron Ward.

“Did you find any success in Karlsheim, Lord Ward?”

“No, my lord,” the aged nobleman shook his head, “the stance of both Legions remains unchanged and Arwintar continues to be silent. The situation is escalating on all sides and we’re no further ahead than we were two weeks ago. I met the Baroness here in Karlsheim: she may be able to help unsnarl this entire mess. Lady Zahradnik has come with me to get a feel for the Wyvernmark so it’s probably your best chance to be heard.”

Lord Kurze fell silent, focusing far too much on carving his duck into thin slices. When he spoke again, wary hesitation was evident in his voice and expression.

“Are you aware of the...shifts brought about by the changes to the Imperial Army, my lady?”

“The majority of what I know would not be dissimilar to what the Court Council sees, which is part of why I decided to quietly investigate things beforehand. I would be appreciative of your perspective on this matter and anything related to it.”

“Is that so…well, in that case, I hope you don’t mind my personal investment seeping into things.”

Ludmila levelled an even gaze across the table at Count Kurze. Was it an attempt at plausible deniability should his knowledge and perspectives influence events in his favour? Personal matters inevitably coloured anyone’s worldview, but the convoluted culture of the Baharuth Empire often cast the knowledge that she gained from its subjects in a suspicious shade.

At the least, the Count did not appear any worse than an average citizen of the Baharuth Empire to her Skill. She found that people simply living their lives in a generally ‘normal’ way were not acting out of line with the Sorcerer King’s Will.

“So long as you realise that it is purely to develop an understanding of what is going on here, my lord,” Ludmila told him. “It should also be understood that, while I may work to facilitate the Empire’s interests in my areas of responsibility, I will always endeavour to follow the official policies of the Sorcerous Kingdom.”

“Of course, my lady,” Lord Kurze nodded. “I just hope that you can do something to avert this oncoming catastrophe for not only my sake but for the sake of the entire Wyvernmark.”

Ludmila frowned internally at the dire tone employed by the Count. Though the behaviour of the Sixth Legion might be considered a cause for concern, what Lord Ward had mentioned about Orensted didn’t seem to have anything to do with them. Neither were there any glaring issues apparent from what she had seen of the Wyvernmark thus far.

If anything, it looked like a territory preparing for spring with all of the associated activities and nothing at all amiss. Then again, she did not have the same eye for domestic affairs as her friends.

Lord Kurze emptied half of his glass before settling more comfortably in his seat, leaning on an armrest as he gestured with his opposite hand.

“I suppose I should preface this by saying that the Wyvernmark is not precisely the most intrepid of frontiers. The Empire has not expanded its southern border for over a century.”

“One of my friends is descended from a family that comes from the southeastern frontier of the Empire,” Ludmila said. “She wasn’t very enthused when I asked her whether she would be visiting her ancestral home.”

“Yes, that should about sum things up,” Count Kurze looked down at his plate. “This region isn’t a terrible place, but neither is it terribly exciting. It is certainly far from what its name suggests. These lands are a piece of the Empire frozen in time. We do not possess the prosperity of the Golden Strand, the allure of the imperial centre or the promising prospects that were presented by our purposeful wearing-down of Re-Estize.”

The lack of bitterness in his words and the fact that Lord Kurze didn’t make any effort to market its advantages to her either spoke of resignation over the situation or a lack of ambition, which was decidedly uncharacteristic for an imperial aristocrat. Perhaps he was a member of the Flavella faction or one similar to it.

A footman came from behind the Count to refill his glass. Ludmila reached out to shift hers closer to her plate, idly running her fingers over its clear crystal surface.

“I take it that the development along the way between Karlsheim and Kurze is not representative of the rest of the march?”

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“It is, actually,” the young Nobleman replied. “The current extent of the Wyvernmark is simply the extent of the land worth developing, and that development has long been realised.”

“I can see that it is fairly arid here,” Ludmila said, “but Lord Ward mentioned something about a mine in the mountains to the southwest…”

“The prospect of mineral wealth is one of the more enticing elements of the ranges south of here, yes. The mines of Orensted produce iron, copper, silver and lead – it’s one of the pillars of the southern economy. The problem with expansion is that any initiatives will have a requisite cost that the Court Council has been unwilling to pay.”

Count Kurze’s explanation seemed reasonable enough. Though the exact circumstances might differ, it was a problem faced by any frontier territory. The cost of pushing out native populations and maintaining security in the wilderness over the long course of development was balanced against the prospective returns of doing so.

With their lands approaching the limits of development, Frontier Nobles would normally turn their attention to expansion. It would even be likely that the local Margrave would consolidate the efforts of his vassals to expand the border. In the Empire, however, the martial obligations of the nobility had long been handed over to the Imperial Army. Similarly, the imperial throne held sole authority over how to expand and wage war. The Empire grew where it was decided that growth would be most efficient for the nation as a whole.

This left some questions as to how the people of ‘forgotten’ frontiers felt about such neglect, but with the changes to the Imperial Army, they should have become issues of the past.

“I am certain you are aware that a major component of that equation has changed.”

“Not only that, my lady,” Lord Kurze said, “but the reorganisation of the Imperial Army and the new mandate of the Sixth Legion have swung the pendulum to the far opposite end.”

“I’m still not sure where the problem lies for the Empire in this, my lord.”

The recent changes would be a dire development for whoever lived beyond the imperial border, but they should have been welcomed by subjects of the Empire.

“The issues revolving around Orensted are a good place to begin developing an understanding of the problem,” the Count said. “With the dissolution of the Eighth Legion, the industries of Engelfurt have been looking for demand to fill. Smiths who once produced goods for the army are now producing goods for the mines. This incursion into our markets is occurring in every industrial sector, but since there is no room for additional industrial development in the Wyvernmark, all it does is depress prices for the goods that are exported here – prices that our economy has long been balanced around.”

She wondered how he would feel if he knew of the oversupply of agricultural produce that was starting to creep its way out of the Sorcerous Kingdom. Once the Empire overcame its aversion to the Sorcerous Kingdom’s exports, the massive population of the Empire could absorb goods for a while, but time would eventually see prices falling until a new equilibrium was achieved.

“What do the guilds have to say about this?”

“Each guild looks out for its own members,” Lord Kurze said. “The guilds of Karlsheim cry bloody murder and begs us to do something about Engelfurt and the guilds of Engelfurt refuse to back down because their survival depends on securing new markets. The Court Council dictates policy for trade taxes and domestic trade bans on legal goods are outlawed, so there is nothing that we local administrators can do to protect our industries.

“I’ve only described the first step in the Court Council’s plan, however. Following that is the arrival of the Sixth Legion. Not only are they bolstering the regional economy with their presence, but their activity is drawing goods and people here from other parts of the Empire – especially from the Katze Marches and the poorest districts of our cities. The reason why the Sixth Legion is here isn’t a secret as well. Hordes of hungry hopefuls are arriving in droves, waiting for the expansion of the imperial border.”

Ludmila leaned forward on her elbows, looking across the table to Lord Kurze.

“So far,” she said, “it seems like the people of the Wyvernmark will only stand to gain from this. Growth that has not been experienced in living memory seems inevitable. Territories are being expanded, goods required for expansion are cheap and labour is plentiful. From what I understand, all this has been arranged to spur development on the southern frontier, but you make it out to be a bad thing.”

On the other side of Count Kurze, Baron Ward spoke.

“It’s not a bad thing until you get to the part where, without the assistance of the leased Undead forces, the Imperial Army can’t do this without substantial losses.”

"The reluctance to incorporate them into the army is abundantly clear, my lord,” Ludmila replied, “but that is part of what I’m here for.”

“I’m not sure if it is anything that you can help with, my lady.”

“What do you mean?”

“The Sixth Legion is on the offence,” the Baron told her, “but the Undead have been assigned to the Fifth Legion.”

“…what?”

Since she had come to the Wyvernmark effectively incognito, Ludmila avoided interacting with any garrison or officers that might drag her out of her investigation of the local culture prematurely. Her assumption was that the Sixth Legion had dumped the Death-series servitors in the valley outside of Karlsheim out of some combination of factors that resulted in the avoidance of their use.

“Since their contract marks the leased forces to be strictly used for defensive purposes,” Baron Ward explained, “they were assigned to the Fifth Legion, which is responsible for defending the Wyvernmark. The Sixth Legion is on their own…or at least until a certain idiot decided to be creative with the rules.”

“I left these Death-series servitors with specific instructions concerning any attempts to circumvent or violate the terms of their lease.”

“Yes,” Lord Ward smiled slightly, “and it was quite amusing watching General Ray get repeatedly denied by those Death Cavaliers. He’s come up with a new plan, though.”

“One that puts Imperial Citizens at risk,” Lord Kurze added. “I honestly still can’t believe that he would stoop to this!”

Ludmila’s gaze went from Lord Ward to Lord Kurze. He was plainly livid over the situation, but she couldn’t be sure how severe things were in actuality.

“What is he doing?”

"Trying to force the Fifth Legion’s hand,” Baron Ward said. “As you’ve probably noticed, the Undead forces leased from the Sorcerous Kingdom have not been placed on any assignments. Much of the reason is probably as you suspect: qualms about utilising the Undead serve as an obstacle to their integration with the security forces of the Wyvernmark. The more immediate reason, however, is that General Ray’s plan involves inciting our neighbours into attacking us.”

“So the Undead have been designated to a defensive deployment and General Ray has decided to bait the nearby tribes into dying against those defences.”

“Yep. We’ve been in a stalemate where the Fifth Legion refuses to validate his reckless actions by deploying the Undead and facilitating his plan.”

Her tension dissipated, replaced by dumbfounded annoyance as she digested the full scope of what was going on.

“This is a uniquely stupid situation.”

“Oh, I don’t disagree, my lady,” Baron Ward replied.

“I believe I understand the Fifth Legion’s position, my lord, but what does General Gregan have to say about this?”

“The Sixth Legion has their orders. General Gregan and the other Commanders don’t like how General Ray is going about things. At the same time, they can’t deny him the attempt. If we go along with General Ray’s plan and deploy the Undead to receive his…presents, his ‘success’ may spur the other Commanders in the Sixth Legion to follow his example.”

Ludmila suspected that a battle of ideologies would come with the introduction of the Death-series servitors, but this particular battle was not it. Even with General Kabein warning her of something to this effect, she had been unable to predict the present situation.

“Everything about what’s going on is just too convenient,” Count Kurze said. “Or rather the timing is too perfect. Starting from the reorganisation of the Imperial Army, someone has been manoeuvring the entire Empire in an unfathomably astute and purposeful manner. Demographics; politics; our economies, public sentiment and military posture – it’s as if we are being made to dance in the palm of someone’s hand and the sheer inertia of it all makes any resistance ultimately futile.”

“And now that everything’s set up,” Baron Ward said, “The Second Legion’s resounding success in The Blister has driven the Sixth Legion into greater heights of fervour. They’re all chomping at the bit to measure up and carve out their own slice of the pie…and then you show up, my lady – just like clockwork.”