Chapter 8

Ludmila couldn’t help but be aware of Nabe’s unrelenting stare as she pored over the county’s judicial record. Long accustomed to seeing the occasional being disguising themselves as a Human in the city, the bald and nearly featureless face of Nabe’s true appearance did not disturb her at all. It was just the fact that she was staring, and had been staring at her at every opportunity.

As an escort, it was expected that one paid attention to their charge, but not to the exclusion of all else. While she occasionally checked the hallway outside and the area outside the window, Ludmila wondered if Nabe had received some specific instructions not mentioned on the King’s order. She couldn’t come up with any reason that would merit such intense scrutiny, however.

A chill travelled up her spine when she considered Nabe’s behaviour from another angle. Nabe stood at the pinnacle of an organization dedicated to the destruction of threats to civilization: an Adamantite Adventurer. The Undead were universally accepted to be one of those threats. While this was no longer the case for the Sorcerous Kingdom’s Adventurer Guild, culture and perception were difficult to shift in such a short period of time.

“Miss Nabe,” Ludmila’s tone was tentative. “Have you destroyed many Undead in your career?”

“Yes.”

Ludmila winced. The answer came simply and without discernible malice, but she couldn’t help but think it was twisted in some way to be aimed at her.

“Then…how do you feel about His Majesty’s Undead servitors?”

Nabe narrowed her eyes at the question. The veteran Adventurers based in E-Rantel once made most of their living suppressing the Undead in Katze Plains, and it was not something they would proudly call attention to in the Sorcerous Kingdom. A line of query such as the one she presented might have drawn a similar reaction from them.

“They are His Majesty’s servitors,” Nabe’s expression returned to its usual passiveness. “Why are you asking me this?”

“I suppose I was curious over how different individuals react to the Undead. How other nobles have handled the introduction of His Majesty’s security forces and Undead labour is of particular interest.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“By all reports,” Ludmila explained, “Darkness has been visiting all of the territories in the duchy on a regular basis. I thought you would be more aware of the differences than I am. For instance, how many Undead are visible in Crosston?”

Nabe rose from her bed, going over to the room’s window and throwing open the shutters. The night breeze played through her jet-black hair. Having compared the town to its appearance when she last came through in the spring, Ludmila already knew what scenery would greet her.

It was a diplomatic approach to adopting the new systems that could be considered characteristic of Human aristocrats in the region. The minimum requirements of the central administration were met. Beyond that was a ‘balance’ where the reservations of the local administration were laid bare. Undead sentries were kept out of sight. Patrols were left on the sparsely-populated borders of the territory. Elder Liches stayed in their offices.

It was the ‘softness’ of the inner nobles. While not explicitly corrupt or malicious, it was a display of the Human tendency to favour what was comfortable and familiar. There were no dire threats present in the inland territories; no Demihuman tribes or monsters lairing nearby. Nothing that told them ‘you must adapt and act, or you will perish’.

Without a whetstone to keep it sharp, one’s sense for danger grew dull. For people in peaceful lands, this danger was the stagnation of culture and the slow decay of society. A noble’s duty was to find a way forward for the lands that they were responsible for. A noble’s authority, however, made it all too easy to maintain the status quo – a comfortable and familiar place.

Though the common people could sometimes improve their own lot in life, they could not bring about sweeping societal change. They lacked the resources, authority and influence to address widespread problems or enact progressive policies. This was especially so in the Sorcerous Kingdom, where any revolts or dissent could be so easily crushed by those in power.

Leaders brought change. When leaders did not act, only their peers or those that stood above could prod them forward. The Prime Minister was an excellent executive administrator, but she was not a radical. Her methods involved compiling vast amounts of information and issuing policies that moved the nation in the desired direction step by rational step.

Steps formulated by compiled statistics and the laws set forth by His Majesty. The same laws that the nobility followed.

As the Prime Minister of His Majesty’s government, Lady Albedo had dug in her heels, determined to drag the Sorcerous Kingdom forward against the currents of culture and nature. As long as the administration achieved her policy goals – which were set in increments that were well within reason – she would inevitably reshape the nation to her satisfaction in the long span of eternity. It did not matter how many Human lifetimes passed as long as she met her objectives at what she considered an acceptable rate.

Another question was what would then happen once the Prime Minister reached a place that was ‘comfortable’ to her. Would she, too, fall into the same trap? Like the nobles who now possessed the power to maintain order, the Sorcerous Kingdom had the power to maintain whatever state it considered ideal against all convention and sense.

Changing the direction of the seemingly unshakeable central administration could only be done in three ways. The first was through direct intervention by the Sorcerer King. Members of the Royal Court, too, could potentially sway the policies of the administration. Lastly was to provide new information that called for existing policies and directives to be reconsidered.

The Sorcerous Kingdom had solidified its footing, but its potential was far from fully harnessed. For the Sorcerous Kingdom to move forward, its subjects also had to be ready to move forward with it. One could say that the Sorcerous Kingdom occupied a position of safety and provision, but the foundations upon which the nation would be built were still in the process of being laid.

“Momon says that these measures are reasonable for now,” Nabe said. “That rapid change is disruptive…are you suggesting that the incidents here could have been prevented?”

“No, I was just pointing out how different perceptions of the Undead exist. As you might have noticed, Warden’s Vale has as many Undead servitors in civilian use as there are civilians. I was curious what you thought of the Undead, Miss Nabe.”

“So it has nothing to do with our task here?”

“Not directly, no.”

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Nabe closed the shutters, returning to her bed to resume staring at Ludmila.

“Is there any particular reason why you keep watching me so intently?”

“Yes.”

“May I know what it is?”

“No.”

With the awkward conclusion to their discussion, Ludmila turned her attention back to the county records. The night passed, and she felt more than a bit hunted by the time light started leaking through the window. Being stared at all night was decidedly not an experience that she savoured.

“It should be about time,” Ludmila said. “We should head down to wait for Andrei.”

The cases she had been sent to investigate were simple, yet resolving it was problematic. Someone was using something akin to a Charm Person spell to commit crimes, and they were doing it in a way that their victim could not recognize the spellcaster. Since the principal method of solving already-committed crimes in the Sorcerous Kingdom involved using charm spells to take statements, locating the people that physically engaged in criminal acts only led to finding an innocent victim. They knew nothing, save for the fact that they had been magically compelled.

In the inn’s tavern, they discovered Andrei already waiting for them, seated at the table they had occupied the evening before.

“Good morning, Lady Zahradnik,” Andrei rose and inclined his head. “Miss Nabe.”

“Good morning, Andrei.”

Ludmila waited for Nabe to complete the exchange of greetings, but it appeared that nothing was forthcoming. Andrei smiled at Ludmila’s discomfort.

“I’ve known Miss Nabe for over a year now,” he said. “So I’m accustomed to at least this much.”

“Over a year?”

“Yes,” Andrei nodded. “Torkel – that is, the current Count Völkchenheim – and I went to E-Rantel to hire Adventurers for his coming-of-age ceremony. That’s when we met Darkness.”

“It must have been quite the coming-of-age ceremony if it required an Adamantite Adventurer team.”

“Ah, no,” Andrei chuckled nervously. “That was at my lord’s discretion. The ceremony itself is for scions of House Völkchenheim to prove themselves capable of dealing with Demihuman threats. As you probably understand, the decline of the Frontier Lords in the past led to Völkchenheim County being responsible for local frontier threats. Adventurers were hired to act as guides and escorts…well, we did end up running into something ridiculous, so it was money well spent.”

Ludmila nodded in understanding. Internally, however, she held severe doubts over the worth of such a ceremony. Proof that you could kill something in a ‘safe’ situation did not mean that you could manage a territorial border.

“What happened after you returned?” Ludmila asked.

“…after?”

“Yes,” she replied. “Did he go on to deal with any encroaching threats, or…”

“The rest of the year was uneventful,” Andrei told her. “There were no threats from the wilderness to respond to, fortunately.”

His tone and description told Ludmila all she needed to know about House Völkchenheim’s commitment to the defence of the realm. She had nothing against them personally, but Andrei’s words left a sour taste in her mouth. They did not speak to her of any true pursuit of a militant noble’s duty, nor respect for it. There was no indication of the endless preparation, training and investment required to maintain a similarly endless vigil throughout the seasons.

The ‘ceremony’ was warning enough of this, but the answers to her follow-up questions confirmed it. House Völkchenheim employed Adventurers for the rite of passage because it was what they believed that the defence of a realm entailed. An exciting, direct battle; proof of mettle and skill at a decisive instant.

It was the way that the inland nobles of Re-Estize understood militant matters in general. Ludmila’s father often shared his thoughts on such views, usually right after the annual skirmish with the Empire. Satisfied that they had proven their might before not just the Empire, but to one another in a bout of meaningless pageantry, they packed up and went home.

Similarly, Torkel Völkchenheim had gone out and ‘proven’ that he could do what Adventurers did. As Adventurers were frequently employed to deal with the occasional threat that appeared in more civilized lands, it was seen as proof of being able to deal with those same threats personally. As compassionate and well-meaning as he was, the Count was woefully misguided when it came to the value of his House’s traditions.

Given his former situation, Ludmila held the fleeting thought that Count Völkchenheim might qualify as a commander for the nascent Royal Army. He was, however, probably far better suited to managing his territory and its people.

“I see,” Ludmila said. “Well, shall we get going? I’d like to see the sites of these incidents.”

“Of course,” Andrei said. “Before we leave town, Count Völkchenheim would like to–”

“There’s no need to see Lord Völkchenheim,” Ludmila told him.

“Lady Zah–”

“Also, it’s probably best to avoid anything that might give my presence away. In hindsight, my decision to see your liege in such a highly visible manner was also in error. Respect for the proper protocol in more normal circumstances got the better of me.”

A frown crossed Andrei’s expression. He clearly was displeased by the turn of events.

“My lord will be worrying himself into an early grave at this rate.”

“You did report to him after our discussion yesterday evening, yes?”

“I did,” Andrei replied, “but Lord Völkchenheim knows not to take everything at face value.”

Count Völkchenheim’s retainer was skirting a very dangerous line. Ludmila was carrying out a royal order, and even the slightest hint of resistance could be considered opposition to the sovereign’s will. Casting the shadow of doubt on her word was even worse. House Völkchenheim either harboured a serious grievance, or its retainers were extremely protective and loyal to their liege.

“Trust has to start somewhere, Andrei,” Ludmila decided it was the latter. “Has His Majesty’s government given House Völkchenheim any cause for one of the Sorcerer King’s vassals to act in this manner?”

Andrei’s lips pressed together into a thin line. After a moment, he turned his head to the side and blew out a long sigh.

“No,” he said. “I’m sorry. Everyone is just tied up into knots over your presence here. You have a fearsome reputation, Lady…”

“Camilla. Just Camilla will do. And I honestly don’t understand where most of that reputation comes from.”

The Ranger gave her a strange look. Did she say something out of sorts? Maybe it was the name.

“I’ll go pick up Sanju,” Andrei told them. “We can meet up about two kilometres from the eastern gate on the road that leads north. Will that be acceptable, Miss Camilla?”

“We’ll be there.”

Andrei nodded slightly in affirmation before turning away and leaving the inn.

As the door quietly shut behind him, Nabe walked up beside Ludmila.

“Lady Shalltear would have taken his tongue for that,” the Adventurer said with a barely-restrained edge to her voice.

Ludmila believed that she would. Any loyal noble from Re-Estize would have done so as well, as well as any unscrupulous individuals who revelled in wielding the sovereign’s authority for self-satisfaction. Especially those.

Losing capable subjects who harboured genuine loyalty, however, was the last thing that the Sorcerous Kingdom needed. If anything, they needed more. Those with trust and respect for the leaders of the nation; those who could place their faith in something greater than themselves and serve as an example for others to follow. Arbitrarily culling those people away was a grievous loss to a nation that was only just starting to establish its cultural foundations.

“I wasn’t aware that you were well-acquainted with Lady Shalltear,” Ludmila replied.

Nabe’s hard expression faltered for just a moment, then she turned and silently glowered at the door through which Andrei had made his exit.