Chapter 7

Crosston’s festivities attracted many from its surrounding county, filling streets and open spaces with the press of Human merrymakers. Whether they were there to celebrate a joyous occasion with their beloved leader or simply taking advantage of the food and beverage being freely provided eluded Ludmila’s ability to discern. What she did understand was that it was noisy, crowded and chaotic.

In the past five minutes, I must have squeezed by the entire population of Warden’s Vale.

Going was slow. Ludmila watched Nabe navigate the crowd ahead of her, envious at the apparent ease by which she carried herself. Once in a while, the Adventurer brushed away the groping hands of those who had grown bold in their merriment or perhaps had too much to drink. Far fewer reached out for Ludmila, but when they did she kept her hands tightly to her sides and did her best to get away from their touch as quickly as possible. Hopefully, some previously unknown reaction didn’t rise out of her discomfort.

As for why Ludmila simply didn’t act to keep others at bay as Nabe did, it was because she worried over what might happen. Various races possessed natural weaponry, usually in the form of teeth, claws or horns. Humans could be said to have natural weaponry as well, but what the average Human could bring to bear was nothing relative to those possessed by other races.

Monsters and other supernatural creatures often had attacks attributed with various effects, and knowledge of the attacks they might employ was crucial for those who fought against them. In her vocation – both as a Frontier Noble and an Adventurer – Ludmila was well-versed in this lore, and could quickly analyze and identify the traits of unknown opponents should this knowledge fail her. Little did Ludmila realize that she would one day be analyzing herself and the potential threat that she represented to the subjects of her own nation.

While she didn’t paralyze her victims like a Ghoul, deliver negative energy damage with a mere touch like an Elder Lich, or curse others like a Mummy, her ‘natural attacks’ were very much magical in nature. She had unintentionally injured Ilysh’nish with her elbow, and that was impossible for a regular Human. There were vocations that could grow to become powerful unarmed combatants, but Ludmila was not one of those.

Dragons were beings whose natural damage reduction required magical weapons to bypass. By Ilyshn’ish’s own account, a Gold-ranked Adventurer with a mundane weapon had completely failed to harm her. It did not mean that her elbow was more powerful than a longsword, but it did mean that different rules accompanied her new existence when it came to physical interactions.

With her Undead body came inhuman strength, combined with a complete lack of familiarity with that body. It was not dissimilar to growing stronger and weaker in the past, save for the fact that her natural weaponry potentially made it all too easy to inflict injuries. Some beings, like the Krkonoše Druids, were resilient enough to interact casually with. Humans, on the other hand, not only lacked any notable natural weapons but did not possess any natural armour either.

Ludmila grew queasy whenever she dwelled over what accidents might happen as a result of negligence or ignorance over some previously undiscovered trait. Brushing away one of the hands that reached out towards her could potentially slice open flesh simply by scraping someone with her fingernail. What would happen if she bumped into someone or they collided with her?

To someone who once had a high degree of mastery over her own body, it was an untenable situation. Ludmila experimented from time to time, but learning about herself was hampered by the fear of discovering just how inhuman she had become.

Her circumstances were unlike the powerful servants of the Sorcerer King, many of which had natural weapons of their own. She wasn’t huge and imposing like Lord Cocytus, with whom people naturally kept at a respectful distance at all times. Nor was she a vision of ephemeral beauty like Lady Shalltear, someone that nearly everyone considered far beyond their reach.

Ludmila was simply Ludmila. While she might draw some attention, people were still more likely to bump into her on the street or treat her in a more casual manner. Even Demihumans like the Lizardmen, who once flinched away from her in fear, seemed to treat her in a more open and friendly manner in recent times.

Finally breaking through the crowd, Nabe led them out of the town gate. From there, they went to a cleared field that was indicated by one of the Elder Liches to be where the main celebration was being held. The area was covered in gaily-decorated pavilions, and the aromas of food filled the air. Nabe stopped to frown out at the chaotic surroundings illuminated by bonfires and torchlight.

“It’s customary for the bride and groom to be seated in the first pavilion,” Ludmila guessed at the cause of her confusion. “That way, people can offer their congratulations before entering to partake of the festivities.”

Nabe offered no reply, and Ludmila stepped forward to join the rear of a short line. With it being so late in the evening, even a celebration of this magnitude would still be tapering off. They wouldn’t have long to wait, and it was unlikely that they would be interrupting any ongoing wedding events or performances.

A wedding, huh...

Lady Shalltear contended for the position of Queen Consort, but Ludmila had never dared ask her if the Undead could have children. As far as she knew, the closest thing was Undead created by other Undead, like Death Knights raising Squire Zombies. It wasn’t anything like a familial relationship. To her knowledge, this was a major part of life that was lost to her.

House Zahradnik would exist as long as she did, but, at the same time, the family life she had been raised to expect was now beyond her reach. She would be a lonely bystander watching others journey through their lives for the rest of her days.

“Have you ever considered marriage, Miss Nabe?”

Ludmila frowned at her own words. She had intended to strike up a conversation to take her mind off of the topic, but instead, she had just brought it up again. Maybe the atmosphere made it inevitable.

“No.”

Nabe’s reply was immediate. Was marriage not a part of Momon and Nabe’s culture? Perhaps their relationship was such that there was no need for it.

Or perhaps I missed my chance.

Ludmila scowled at the fleeting thought, silently berating herself. As attractive as the idea of a strong partner was, it was no reason to become some sort of unscrupulous strumpet. Belatedly, at that. Having the same reactions and feelings as a Human felt like a cruel reminder of what she could never have.

The line slowly advanced as her thoughts grew increasingly glum. When it came their turn to enter the pavilion, Count Völkchenheim and his bride, Lady Adelia Allard, had their backs to them as they refreshed themselves at a small table. Torkel Völkchenheim returned first, resplendent in his finery.

“Welcome!” He looked up with a bright smile, “Tha…”

His eyes widened upon registering his new guests. Lord Völkchenheim turned as white as his dress shirt before collapsing onto the rich carpet laid over the ground.

“T-Torkel?” The new Lady Völkchenheim turned at the sound and ran towards her fallen husband, “Torkel! Who…”

She gaped like a fish for all of two seconds before flopping down on top of Count Völkchenheim. Cries rose from the maids nearby, and footmen came running. Amidst the commotion, a hint of a cold smile crossed Nabe’s lips.

“How convenient,” the Adventurer’s eyes glinted. “To have annoying flies extinguish themselves in your presence. Is this a Skill you can teach?”

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

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An hour later, Ludmila was seated with Nabe in the tavern of one of the local inns. Sitting across from them was a familiar face: Count Völkchenheim’s retainer, Andrei, who she had first met in E-Rantel early that spring. Ludmila twiddled her thumbs under the table, resisting the urge to squirm under the uncomfortable feeling that she had ruined someone’s wedding.

“I’m sorry about that, my lady,” Andrei said. “I should’ve at least sent a footman to wait for your arrival.”

“No,” Ludmila shook her head, “it is I who should be apologizing. I’m here by His Majesty’s order, but I’ve ruined a special occasion in the process.”

“It’s my fault, really,” Andrei said. “I had no idea that you’d arrive so soon. With Zahradnik Barony being out on the border, I figured it would at least take you until tomorrow to arrive. Sanju delivered the request two hours ago.”

“Sanju?” Nabe stirred at the mention.

“Ah, pardon me. Sanju is the Elder Lich that I’ve been travelling around investigating this string of incidents with.”

“An Elder Lich with a name,” Ludmila mused. “Do you know what it means?”

Andrei rubbed the stubble of his chin in thought. His gaze went from Ludmila to Nabe.

“It sounds like it’s from a language down south,” he said. “Miss Nabe might have an answer.”

Ludmila turned her gaze to Nabe as well.

“It’s a number,” Nabe said. “Thirty.”

That’s not my fault, is it?

The name ‘Nonna’ had many meanings, and one of those was the number nine. She was the ninth Elder Lich to be trained under the new administration, and Ludmila thought many of its other meanings suited to the Elder Lich’s qualities. Sanju might have been the thirtieth, its name provided according to that same sense.

“That’s interesting to know,” Andrei said. “Sanju is working at the Count’s manor right now, but…did you come with anyone else? Elder Liches or Death Knights to help with the investigation?”

“It’s just the two of us,” Ludmila replied. “Do you believe that we require more assistance?”

“To be honest,” Andrei said, “I wasn't sure what to expect in the first place. Sanju only called the option to my attention last week, and there were no real details provided. I definitely didn’t expect Miss Nabe here to show up.”

The presence of the Adamantite Adventurer was still a mystery to Ludmila as well. Adventurers were not only used as hirable muscle: they would also occasionally be employed for their skills and knowledge for jobs that did not centre around combat. One might surmise that, due to the nature of the incidents, Nabe might have been called to offer her expertise on the matter as a powerful arcane caster.

Understanding that His Majesty’s Order had been issued months ago, however, muddied things quite a bit. Why would anyone think to call upon the specific combination of Ludmila Zahradnik and Nabe of Darkness to perform an investigation in Völkchenheim County and have an order ready for their dispatch well in advance of anything happening? Perhaps it was the magnificent foresight of the Sorcerer King that Lady Shalltear so often spoke of.

“Nabe is here at His Majesty’s request,” Ludmila said. “It’s not our place to question. As an Adamantite Adventurer from a distant land, she has probably seen far more than we can ever imagine. Perhaps that experience was considered crucial for the investigation.”

“Of course, my lady,” Andrei lowered his head. “It was just an idle thought – I didn’t mean to question His Majesty’s will. We’re pretty stumped here, so I’m curious how the matter will ultimately be resolved.”

Ludmila reconsidered her position after Andrei’s display of deference. By carrying out His Majesty’s orders, one represented His Majesty’s will. Be the one bestowed this authority a noble, a maid, or a horse, those under the authority of the sovereign were obliged to heed them. Having a noble in another noble’s territory representing the sovereign’s will was a weighty matter that could have many layers of meaning.

She was broadly neutral when it came to her views on Völkchenheim County and as to why she had been specifically dispatched. Count Völkchenheim and his vassals could not know that for sure, however, and would have their own speculation over her presence. They could legally offer no resistance if someone showed up on Crown business, but neither was their cooperation ensured. Lacking in the political acumen and diplomatic finesse that regular nobles possessed, Ludmila could only hope that she came across as genuine.

“We’ll review the information that the administration has provided us with tonight,” Ludmila told him. “The town will probably not be in its best form tomorrow, but we should still be able to begin our work. I noticed that you were the one heading the investigation on these incidents so far: was there something you’d like to personally add that might not appear on the reports?”

Andrei had confirmed that he was a Ranger when they first met. Going by his current strength, he was in the lower half of Gold-rank by Adventurer Guild standards. Assuming that being a Ranger was his only vocation, that made Andrei a better Ranger than Ludmila. If he couldn’t track down the culprit, there was little chance that Ludmila could in the same circumstances. A part of her wondered why Lady Aura hadn’t been dispatched in her stead, but there was probably a good reason for that.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand what you mean by that,” the trace of a frown passed over Andrei’s expression. “Are you suggesting that I’m withholding information?”

“Not out of malice,” Ludmila replied calmly. “The Elder Liches dispatched by the administration are both austere and stringently trained. As proficient as they are in what they do, they also have limited experience and tend to be inflexible about a great many things that Humans do differently or consider important. They will note any information that comes to their attention, but, after interacting with them for a while, one may decide that it’s a waste of time and energy to share certain things.”

Andrei’s look softened somewhat at her explanation. After a moment, it hardened again as he leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms.

“This isn’t some sort of trick, is it?”

“Trick?”

“Yeah, to draw out complaints about the administration or something along those lines.”

“No, nothing of the sort,” Ludmila smirked in the face of his suspicions. “It’s simply the truth. For a Ranger, you have a strangely…political view.”

“With House Völkchenheim’s history, can you blame me?”

With the generally congenial attitude that Torkel Völkchenheim displayed in public, it was easy to forget that his house had such a troubled past.

“Mister…” Ludmila prompted him for a more formal name to address him by.

“Andrei is fine.”

“Andrei then,” she said. “What does House Völkchenheim think of me?”

Lord Völkchenheim’s retainer adopted a guarded look, staying silent for several seconds.

“You’re from a border house,” Andrei finally replied, “which is something we can respect. At the same time, you’re the one who brought down House Fassett.”

“As a retainer of House Völkchenheim, I thought that would be a point in my favour. Besides, I wasn’t the only one there.”

“It’s a point in your favour,” Andrei conceded, “but it’s also a point against. The other noblewomen that went with you might be capable, but they all work within the rules: the rules of regular nobles that House Fassett was able to dance around for generations. Border houses have zero tolerance for the game House Fassett played, so everyone understands that House Fassett’s downfall is most likely your doing. The thing is, border lords don’t have anything in their contracts that allow them to do anything of the sort.”

Andrei’s steely gaze held her own, but she only awaited his conclusion with a curious look. Compared to the relaxed and affable attitude he displayed in E-Rantel, the man sitting across from the table was like a loyal hound guarding his master. Perhaps this was because all Rangers were especially sharp when operating in their element. Perhaps it was loyal vassals like Andrei that allowed Lord Völkchenheim to carry on with his optimistic outlook.

“This means that you either broke the rules,” his voice took on a blunt quality, “or you play by rules that the rest of us aren’t aware of. Given the lawful nature of the new administration, it would have to be the latter.”

And there it was: the reason why the House of Lords now feared her. In addition to being a powerful, militant noble, she had become something alien to them. Nobles were ultimately creatures of law, and she could punch through their paper shields for some reason unknown to them. They were penned-up livestock at the mercy of a savage predator.

“You’re right,” Ludmila told him, “it is the latter. I can’t tell you what my contract entails, but I can tell you that these scattered incidents won’t lead to a smoking crater where Crosston once stood.”

“A crater…”

“Erm, forget that last part,” Ludmila smiled. “I’m just here to see if I can help with what’s going on here. If we track down the culprit, they’ll be captured and tried. The central administration will probably handle things from there, as they’d want to make a study of it. If we turn up empty-handed, I will not do anything unreasonable out of frustration.”

Ludmila stood up from her seat.

“We’ll be retiring to our room now,” she said. “Please consider what I mentioned before. Also, please convey my reassurances to Lord and Lady Völkchenheim – I feel absolutely terrible about disrupting their wedding night.”