Chapter 12

Ludmila was greeted by a tangle of plants as she walked into the front door of her temporary manor. It appeared that the experimental solarium was doing more than well. While this was a good sign for her attempted emulation of the ‘indoor farming’ that the Sorcerer King had mentioned, she hadn’t expected her home to become reminiscent of a forest’s undergrowth.

Aemilia went ahead past the hall, leading Clara and the Death Knight footmen up the stairs with their belongings. Wiluvien and Lluluvien had gone to show their guests to their accommodations and familiarise Liane and Florine’s attendants with the village’s amenities.

It was roughly two hours to sunset, meaning that Glasir should be at her Druid lessons, so Ludmila poked her head into Nonna’s office. As usual, the Elder Lich was at her desk studying some sort of report.

“Nonna,” she smiled, “I’m back.”

“You are thirty minutes behind the latest estimate for arrival.”

“You can blame the morning traffic for that,” Ludmila said. “Hopefully the city planning council will settle on how they want to expand soon. Has anything happened since we left the city?”

“Many things have ‘happened’.”

“Amongst those things, is there anything that demands my attention as the head administrator of this territory?”

“No.”

“I see. Thank you for your hard work, Nonna.”

She checked her desk for new paperwork, of which there was little. While she was working with the Imperial Army, Shadow Demons delivered it to her on a regular basis so she supposed that more wouldn’t inexplicably appear just because she was home.

On the second floor, she went to check the state of her territory. A half-dozen Elder Lich Sergeants saluted at her approach. It was identical to the one that the Death Cavaliers gave her, though the bony hand of an Elder Lich wasn’t as impressive as a Death-series servitor’s gauntleted fist.

“It seems that the Grand Marshal has everyone doing that now,” Ludmila raised her right fist to her breast, returning their salute. “How is everyone this evening?”

The Elder Liches stared wordlessly at her question. She wondered whether Lord Cocytus would eventually demand a minimum level of etiquette as well.

Ludmila walked up to the head of the table, looking down at the map of her territory. Aside from marking tribal positions in the Upper Reaches, little had changed over the winter. With the highland basin as depopulated as it was, she doubted that there would be much movement with the abundance of territory and resources available for the surviving denizens. The stability over the next few years made for a good chance to begin familiarising them with rudimentary forms of trade and standardised regulations.

“Have there been any movements from the Theocracy at all?” Ludmila asked.

“Not that has been observed,” one of the Elder Liches answered. “Our detection capabilities are limited, however, so they may have individuals with Scout-type Classes monitoring the situation.”

“What about attempts at divination?”

“That is similarly difficult to discern. We have no counterdivination measures in place anywhere in the territory and our capabilities in that field are limited. Reporting divination attempts is at the discretion of the one being scryed and reports cannot be confirmed.”

Basic divination, including the Fourth-tier spell Scrying, was well within the capabilities of the Slane Theocracy. There were no formalised rules between nations when it came to divination magic, so having something sensitive discovered was always a matter of utmost concern. The Sorcerous Kingdom had an open-door policy when it came to spying, but Ludmila was uncomfortable with the fact that someone with just enough familiarity with the right target would lead to nothing being a secret.

Of course, nothing said that they wouldn’t defend themselves against divination attempts. As the Elder Lich had stated, however, divination and counterdivination specialists were lacking in the Sorcerous Kingdom. The few available were already defending other critical areas.

The more that she learned about the world, the more vulnerabilities she could think of. With magic casters being so scarce, it was an issue not easily remedied.

After committing the updated maps to memory, she continued up to her chambers on the third floor. Taiya was attempting to find places to put Clara’s things while her mistress was looking out the window. Magical lighting already flooded the village square while the lake beyond shimmered with the light of the setting sun.

“Are you sure you do not want your own accommodations?” Ludmila asked, “I am already about to shrivel up from embarrassment with how meagre everything is here.”

“It is not meagre,” Clara turned around. “If anything, the sheer potential of your territory is overwhelming. With what has already been accomplished in the Sorcerous Kingdom, everyone knows that you will be accomplishing the most with your territory out of all of us.”

“Which is not as much as everybody probably thinks,” Ludmila replied. “The territory under my administration may look impressively large on a map, but I only intend to develop five per cent of the total area. Many may expect a territory that can support ten million citizens with the Sorcerous Kingdom’s agricultural output, but a tenth of that would be closer to the truth.”

“I still think that you should do more,” Clara sighed.

“What I have planned is more than enough for a healthy Human population,” Ludmila said. “Humans are by far the minority here and every hectare of land I develop for them means taking it away from someone else.”

If there was one thing that she and Clara did not see eye to eye on, it was how Ludmila planned to develop her territory. Despite their close history together, Clara had an eye for efficiency that would put the greatest imperial bureaucrats to shame. Much like the Empire, Clara’s views still mostly mirrored those of the region’s Human nations.

The only saving grace was that Clara trusted Ludmila’s intuition as much as she trusted her own rationale, so aside from the occasional expression of her views, she was content to wait and analyse the results.

“In a generation or two,” Clara said, “when everyone is bursting at the seams with spares, they might resent you for your decision.”

“In a generation or two,” Ludmila replied, “they should understand that Humans are not the only race that matters. On that note, overpopulation is something that we will need to address sooner rather than later.”

“The administration’s projections from the last harvest say that the duchy should be able to feed a Human population of upwards to forty million. We are a long way from reaching that.”

“Never mind feeding forty million, where do we even put forty million?”

“We can build vertically as the Dwarves and Quagoa do. High population densities also do wonders for commerce.”

Ludmila crossed her arms with a pout. It felt as if there was an answer for everything. More accurately, everything the Sorcerer King did provided a crucial element to building a nation capable of meeting future challenges. Be it directly or through the addition of different peoples to the Sorcerous Kingdom’s hegemony, a plethora of ideas and innovations conveniently appeared to answer their questions.

“We can certainly employ what we have learned to support higher populations,’ Ludmila said, “but that does not mean we are obliged to do it over every acre of land. I would rather not have half of the Sorcerous Kingdom looking like Arwintar’s third-class districts.”

“And what if the Royal Court orders it?”

“Lady Shalltear, Lady Aura and Lord Mare support my initiatives here. Unless something arbitrarily overrules their counsel on the matter, that won’t happen. If it does, I will petition His Majesty.”

“And here you always claim that you are not a political person,” Clara smirked.

“This is not about being political,” Ludmila replied. “It is about right and wrong. The world has a balance that must be maintained. We need to be especially careful about this as Nobles of the Sorcerous Kingdom.”

Even more so than the Empire, the Human administrators of the Sorcerous Kingdom unsettled her. Or rather than them specifically, it was the potential disaster in the making, empowered by the influence that they now enjoyed.

“I hope I can understand what you mean by that one day,” Clara said. “I suppose that is the frustrating part about you: people like me can only understand what you are doing after you do it. Florine is the same way, but what she does is at least closer to my areas of expertise.”

Ludmila went over to join Clara at the window, eyes tracing over the scenery of her home. Her gaze went from the distant valley slopes to the shimmering lake and eventually to her villagers going about their evening tasks. They were all migrants from the inland regions as well and she idly wondered what the world looked like through their eyes.

Clara rested her head on Ludmila’s shoulder. She seemed especially content since they arrived in the valley.

“Do you think Warden’s Vale is beautiful, Clara? Does it make you happy?”

“I think the scenery is breathtakingly beautiful,” Clara replied. “And being here together with you makes me especially happy.”

“Why do you think that is?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why is it beautiful? The scenery is not an attractive person; neither is it a product of artistic talent that you have developed an appreciation for. Neither is your impression unique – I believe every Human that comes to the Vale feels the same way.”

Beneath her long lashes, Clara’s amethyst eyes glimmered in the evening light as they seemed to unfocus in thought. After several minutes, Ludmila took Clara by the hand, leading her over to the window on the other side of the room. In the distance, the Katze River flowed before a majestic backdrop of mountains still laced with traces of winter snow.

“What about this scenery?” Ludmila asked.

“It is amazing as well,” Clara answered. “That mountain with far too much snow is a bit strange, but…”

“Now look there,” Ludmila pointed, “at that dark patch of forest between those two peaks. Ignore all of the scenery around it – just focus on that one spot.”

Clara furrowed her brow, leaning forward to peer at the shadowed alpine ravine. Several moments passed before her breathing picked up and she started to tremble. A moment later, she stepped back from the window. Her eyes widened in a strange mix of confusion and realisation.

“Why…what happened?”

“That,” Ludmila said, “is Human nature. Instinct. Something that does not require education or experience; something etched into your very being. All beings have conditions that they consider attractive to them; other conditions have other emotions and behaviours attached to them.”

“Taiya,” Clara said, “come here and try this.”

Clara’s Lady’s Maid came over. Unsurprisingly, she displayed the same reaction.

“That’s utterly irrational,” Clara frowned. “Why would I be scared just focusing on a patch of forest?”

“It has a logic of its own,” Ludmila told her. “Forests are ‘hostile’ to Humans. They are dark, difficult places; harbouring predators and many other dangers. Primal instinct warns you of those dangers and the emotions that result guide you towards behaviours that improve your chances of survival.”

“But I have woodland in my territory as well,” Clara noted. “You have even dragged me through a few of them. I never felt anything like this while we did that.”

“Those were copses,” Ludmila said. “They are not real, wild forests: they are cultivated for Human industry – a source of timber, fuel, food and herbs. You see them as a beneficial thing and, while children might be scared of a dark copse of trees, you have always been highly rational. How one perceives things hinges on knowledge, experience and instinct.”

Ludmila looked back out the window, taking in the beautiful panorama that she had grown up seeing every day. Her appreciation for that beauty had only increased with her recent experiences in the Empire.

“Based on that,” she asked, “what do you think the source of ‘beauty’ in scenery is?”

“Things that are conducive to survival.”

“That is a very conservative answer,” Ludmila smirked. “But you are not incorrect. Rivers and lakes are a source of water; mountains are a source of clean water. Snow and ice on the mountaintops are a sign that streams and falls flow beneath. Greenery indicates that sustenance may be hunted, foraged or cultivated. Open terrain makes it difficult for predators to sneak up on their prey. Humans do not have Darkvision and so they are wary of dark places.”

Clara stepped away from the window, going over to sit on the bed nearby. She lay on her back and stared at the wooden frame supporting the stone ceiling, folding her hands over her belly.

“‘Humans are a race that dwells on the plains’,” Clara murmured. “We hear that all the time, but it is strange to think that it is not a product of choice. That is what you are saying, yes? That our nature causes us to seek and avoid certain things without our actively considering them.”

“It is a foundational aspect of both individuals and the civilisations that they build,” Ludmila replied. “If that nature is allowed to run rampant out of ignorance or selfishness, it produces countries like the Empire. Humans transform the world to suit their views and preferences. As a result, they polarise the world around them. Everything becomes painted in shades of ‘good’ and ‘evil’ and what is allowed becomes contingent on those labels. This ‘morality’ founded in wilful constructs transforms individuals into agents of those who dictate what is ‘moral’.”

“You have always loved the land,” Clara said, “but this is the first time I have heard you being so…aggressive about it. I mean, you did counsel us on the development of our territories, but those arguments were always framed in a more benign way.”

This much was true. The urban planning of the towns in Corelyn and Wagner Counties incorporated many elements that would not be found in the other urban centres in the region. Liane’s new lands also saw Ludmila’s influence as she ‘negotiated’ as much woodland and free pasture for her development as possible.

“I suppose it was our time in the Empire,” Ludmila sighed. “Not just the visit to Arwintar but what I witnessed while working with the Imperial Army as well. I saw what happens when a nation organises and directs its efforts towards a collective goal. You heard what I said on the way here: empowering, inspiring and dangerous. The land tells the tale of the Empire and bears the ravages of its one-sided way of transforming the world around it. That cannot be allowed to happen here.”

“One has to wonder why you think so differently than the rest of us.”

“The ‘rest of us’…I am not alone in this thinking, you know? The Empire considers the rest of us as pests. Druids and Rangers who ally with the denizens of undesirable environments to impede imperial progress. There should be plenty more who simply get by and lack the means to resist the monolithic will of the imperial bureaucracy.”

“That may be so,” Clara said, “but I was emphasising why you think so differently rather than whether more of you exist. You were born to a family and raised like the rest of us.”

“You know that is not true.”

Clara sat up, placing her fingers over her lips with a gasp.

“So the truth comes out!” She said, “That your daughter is a Dryad is no longer a mystery.”

“I was born to a house of Rangers on the frontier,” Ludmila rolled her eyes. “My upbringing has resulted in a worldview that is very different from yours. I am certain you are aware of this more than anyone else.”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

“Perhaps,” Clara’s lips turned up slightly, “but, at the same time, you make it sound as if you do not see the same world at all. Take your case of scenic beauty and why we recognise it: do you not find Warden’s Vale a beautiful place?”

“I do,” Ludmila replied. “More than you know. I recognise all of those things that you instinctively recognise and I see more beyond that. You or one of my tenants who has recently migrated to the territory might see the land as a resource; an opportunity, but I also see what the land itself is and how it affects the world around it. The plants that grow there; who might be able to live there as it is and as it might be; the ever-expanding web of change that would come to the entire area if it was altered in some way.

“The dark forest that you react so fearfully to is just as beautiful to me as the scenery around it. Creatures that you find disturbing like Slimes and Spiders are wonderful to me. Other races are as much a part of the world as we are…when they first came here, the Krkonoše asked who I was. The answer that I gave in return was more me than ‘Ludmila Zahradnik’.”

“The Warden of the Vale,” Clara said. “You shared this with me before, but you also said that you did not understand what it meant.”

“I still do not understand it in its entirety,” Ludmila replied, “but I understand more as I experience more of the world. Ilyshn’ish once told me that Dragons were keepers of the world. At first, I thought that it was a construct of conceit, but after she became my companion I knew that she was being absolutely serious with me.”

“Alright,” Clara said, “so what is it?”

“The way that Dragons frame it, each Dragon Adult and older has something that they call a ‘domain’. From a Human perspective, one might consider it as a territory or hunting range, but Dragons have a connection with their domains that runs far deeper than any legal title or ancestral heritage. Each Dragon oversees their domain and that domain develops according to the type of Dragon overseeing it. A Frost Dragon’s domain becomes a wintry wildland. A Green Dragon’s domain becomes an overgrown temperate forest or jungle filled with all sorts of toxic things.”

“So you believe that this ‘Warden’ thing is similar in role to a Dragon? You oversee your territory and it develops according to your nature?”

“That is probably a part of it,” Ludmila nodded. “The choices that I make for my demesne just seem natural to me. I may fuss over the details and calculate things, but that is only after I make those choices. I may not be a ‘keeper of the world’ but I am the keeper of this place. Those who are more attuned to…the world, for lack of a better term, recognise what I am. Glasir was not even an hour old and she knew what a Warden was.”

“In the end,” Clara mused, “you still fill a management role, Noble or otherwise. But this role is recognised across multiple species without a need for structures of governance.”

“It feels more like a regulatory role, but yes.”

“Is there more to it?”

“Probably, but I do not know what it is. Not yet, at least. Do I sound insane now?”

Clara rose from the bed with a stretch and a yawn. Ludmila detached herself from the windowsill.

“Well,” Clara said, “you always spoke and acted several steps out of line with everyone else. I suppose all there is to do is to see what you do and try to make some sense out of it. On that note, do you believe that this Warden thing will influence what you do in the Draconic Kingdom?”

“I have no idea,” Ludmila shook her head. “Also, it is not as if some strange, foreign influence is twisting my will. It is simply what I am – what I always was.”

『Hey, you two can be all lovey-dovey later – we’re starving out here!』

They left her room shortly after Liane’s call, finding everyone standing in the square outside. Liane and Florine stood with their attendants while Themis and Alessia were being mobbed by excited villagers.

“You know a place is weird when a Cleric gets more attention than a Noble,” Liane muttered.

“A Noble is just another vocation around here,” Ludmila told her. “If not for the outfit bestowed upon me by His Majesty and Lady Shalltear, I would be dressed the same as them.”

“Bleh,” Liane stuck out her tongue. “I don’t know how you managed with the Imperial Army, but the Draconic Kingdom is going to need a lot more flair than you usually display. They’re gonna look down on us!”

“I thought that was what we had you three for,” Ludmila said. “My job was to herd cats or whatever.”

“That depends entirely on how things are when we arrive. I don’t doubt that at least some fighting will happen, but you might end up spending more time policing civilians than chasing Beastmen around. Besides, it isn’t as if Demihumans don’t appreciate a strong impression.”

Liane’s idea of a ‘strong impression’ was probably very different from Ludmila’s. That aside, she didn’t doubt that the Beastman Kingdom’s culture would be distinctly different from that of the tribal Demihuman cultures that she knew of…though it would be convenient if she could just beat up their leader and tell them to go home. As for the Draconic Kingdom’s citizens, she could probably keep them at bay with her usual demeanour.

After Themis managed to get through the swarm of villagers, they made their way across the square to the sole dining establishment in the village. That there was one at all in a frontier village was a testament to the prosperity that now flowed from a territory that had long struggled with a basic economy. The frugality of her past villagers made Ludmila dubious as to whether a Cook could thrive without at least a town to service, but Clara’s assertion that her subjects would patronise the business so long as it existed and wasn’t absolutely terrible appeared to be correct.

Gordon Pyrus, the head Cook and proprietor of the establishment, was doing remarkably well, in fact. The low cost of food made a restaurant – which utilised fuel more efficiently – as cost-effective as cooking at home for a family and less time-consuming. This was compounded by the fact that fuel was no longer necessary for heating. Fast public transportation made deliveries to the harbour and citadel workshops a simple matter.

During the colder months, most people opted to enjoy their food at home so, even with the household staff accompanying them, they were able to find seats for everyone. Chef Pyrus appeared from the kitchen with a curious expression at the sight of the unusual number of guests.

“Baroness Zahradnik?” He said, “Someone said that you were back but…”

Chef Pyrus’ eyes widened when they fell upon Themis. He babbled incoherently for a moment before performing a rite of supplication and bowing his head.

『You people are crazy. Themis might as well crown herself Queen here.』

『Warden’s Vale has not had a presiding Priest since the annexation. I am sure you can forgive them for a bit of excitement.』

『I get that Priests are important and all, but–gah, you’re using Theocracy speak even while we talk like this…』

『Well, there are four of us and two of you, so…』

『This majority stuff stinks!』

The proprietor appeared with a tray in one hand. He came over to deliver the tankards placed upon it, then stopped.

“A-apologies, Priestess, we don’t–”

“It’s fine, good proprietor,” Themis smiled. “We just came to enjoy an evening meal. No special treatment is necessary. We’ll have whatever you’ve been serving to everyone else this evening.”

The proprietor glanced at Ludmila. She nodded in return. If there was something in Warden’s Vale that was superior to the inland territories, it would be the food.

Chef Pyrus set down the tankards before hurrying away with his tray. Liane frowned down at hers before leaning over to check Alessia’s drink.

“Wh-what?”

“Just seeing if you got something better. Do people act like that in the Theocracy, too?”

“If a Priest visits a village without one. It is proper to welcome a visiting member of the temple staff, yes? They have come to serve the people, after all…”

Florine yanked Liane away. Ludmila took a sip out of her tankard – it was water – and watched as the occasional villager came in to pick up dinner.

“Domina, I heard some screaming north of the village somewhere when we were taken to our guesthouse. The villagers did not seem concerned about it, but…”

“Screaming…? Ah, that was probably the evening practice.”

“Screaming practice?” Liane frowned.

“Practice battles,” Ludmila said. “Three of them are held every day after the students finish classes.”

Alessia visibly brightened at her words.

“I wish to see these battles,” she said. “Is this allowed?”

“Normally people would express their concerns about sending children off to battle every day,” Florine said.

“The Paladins in my demesne do it too,” Clara sighed. “By their reasoning, Squires are apprentices so they take them out to the Katze Plains for ‘vocational experience’.”

“This is normal, yes?” Alessia furrowed her brow, “You are blessed to have a wealth of learning resources available. The Squires in Altamura must go out as a group and share what little there is that spawns between patrols.”

“They said as much to me as well,” Clara replied. “I still worry about it, though.”

Chef Pyrus carted in their meals, which consisted of Warden Vale’s ‘village stew’, fresh bread and cuts of venison with a side of preserved greens. Ludmila eyed the vegetables on her plate.

“Chef Pyrus,” she asked, “have the villages been delivering produce?”

“Produce, my lady…? Ah, you mean the fresh greens. They have, in small quantities. It is not nearly enough for everyone here.”

That was to be expected. Ludmila’s magical solarium experiment was being carried out by her Farmer tenants in every village, but a counter in a hundred homes was hardly a field of vegetables.

“Were there any issues with the quality?”

“Not really. Nothing that outweighed the fact that we had fresh greens, at any rate.”

“But there was something?”

“They were a bit on the small side,” Chef Pyrus said. “I spoke to some of the Farmers about it and they said that it was something they could probably figure out.”

“I see. Thank you, Chef Pyrus.”

“If anything, my lady, it is we who should be thanking you. Fresh greens in the winter are unheard of outside of the solarium-grown stuff that goes to places like the Shining Golden Pavilion. Please enjoy your meal.”

The man lowered his head before leaving them to their meal. Clara nudged her foot under the table.

“Does that mean your next project is going ahead as planned?” She asked.

“It does,” Ludmila nodded. “So long as there are no issues with the excavation work. I should repurpose one of the warehouses just in case…or just build one near the village.”

Ludmila’s next project was scaling up her indoor solarium experiment. She would contract the Dwarf company that did work for the Ministry of Transportation to excavate an underground complex where her first farming village could manage crops year-round. The warehouse was a side experiment for cultivation in urban settings. If they were a success, she could expand the operations to all of her farming villages and add an agricultural research facility to the citadel district.

“All that excavating means a lot of stone, right?” Liane said, “Make Clara share some with us.”

“Ask Clara,” Ludmila replied.

“But I can negotiate a cheaper price from you. Like a ball of string and some lint.”

A thok sounded from the table as Florine drove her knife through Liane’s hand. Themis and Alessia stared.

“‘Gentle Pastures’, my ass,” Liane muttered. “You put a hole in the poor proprietor’s table, by the way.”

“I’ll pay for a new table,” Florine told her. “You shouldn’t joke about things like that.”

“You have damage reduction?” Alessia examined Liane’s unblemished hand, “That is quite a valuable enchantment. Well, I guess you are actually an important person so it makes sense to protect you…”

“Whaddya mean by ‘actually’?!”

Laughter rose from around the table and they started their meal. Ludmila couldn’t be sure, but it appeared that the Chef had improved his craft since her last visit.

“This is supposed to be a regular meal, yes?” Alessia asked, “Does that mean your people eat meat every day?”

“They do,” Ludmila answered. “One of the advantages of living on the frontier and having plenty of wilderness. There is fish, fowl and game aplenty.”

“No wonder you are so tall, Domina. In Altamura, meat is only available on feast days.”

“It isn’t much different here,” Florine said. “Most of the citizens only have meat once a week. The rest of the time, it’s eggs, beans, peas and lentils. With the abundant harvests we have now, they should see it more often at their tables.”

Their discussion continued well past sunset until Themis retired to prepare a morning service at the village shrine. Alessia went to help her and the rest of them decided to retire after the day’s excitement. On the way back to her manor, Ludmila came across Glasir. The Dryad stopped to greet her, red-gold leaves trembling in the wind.

“Welcome back? I think…”

“That was correct,” Ludmila said. “You should add honorifics to it in public, however.”

“Welcome back, my lady.”

“Thank you, Dame Gronvidr,” she smiled.

“I think you’re the only one that calls me that.”

Addressing a four-month-old as ‘Dame’ was likely confusing. Then again, Dryads manifested as fully-grown adults.

Or did they? She eyed her ‘daughter’, noting some changes. Foremost amongst them were what appeared to be vines sprouting from both her and her tree.

“Did you have those vines before?” Ludmila asked.

“No,” Glasir replied. “I started growing them out this month.”

“Do they do anything?”

“They’re parasitic vines for hunting,” the Dryad replied. “If something comes close, I can catch it and it eventually becomes the soil.”

Natural weapons to secure fertiliser? She supposed it made sense.

“Will they hurt people who touch them?”

“No, I have to attack with them. I guess people could tangle themselves up if they tried…”

At least the children that she played with wouldn’t accidentally hurt themselves. Mrs Linum always tended to Lord Mare’s tree as well. A frown crossed her face as she noticed that the Elf was missing.

“Dame Gronvidr, where is Mrs Linum?”

“She left.”

“Do you mean she retired to her home?”

“No,” Glasir shook her head. “Lady Shalltear came by in the middle of last month with a Human woman. Mrs Linum went with them. I think Mrs Linum fought with her daughters. Lluluvien and Wiluvien cried afterwards.”

Ludmila found Lluluvien and Wiluvien in the kitchen of her manor. The Half-Elf Maids seemed to immediately realise that Ludmila knew that Mrs Linum was gone. They both visibly trembled, then threw themselves to the floor as she approached.

“We’re sorry, my lady!” Lluluvien cried, “Please forgive us!”

Lluluvien kept repeating herself, as if she had returned to the cowering Maid from a year previous.

“Tell me what happened,” Ludmila said.

“I…we didn’t know my lady!” Lluluvien didn’t look up, “We didn’t know. We didn’t know…we’re sorry, my lady.”

“That does not make me any more aware of the situation.”

“Our moth–Ilwé, my lady. She was a spy. All that time she was with the Fassetts; all that time with us. She was spying the entire time.”

Ilwé Linum was a spy? Ludmila wasn’t even sure where to begin trying to make sense of it.

“But why would she do that? For what reason? What reason did she have to carry on spying? Why would she do this to her family…you are her daughters, yes?”

“We were,” Lluluvien’s voice hardened. “She had us on the off chance that people would suspect something was amiss. She also used us to garner sympathy. She called us ‘props’. Everything was just an act, and the woman that came with Lady Shalltear knew all about her.”

“Who was this woman?”

“I don’t know, my lady,” Wiluvien said. “She never introduced herself – they just came to pick up Ilwé and left. She called Ilwé a ‘sleeper agent’.”

Had Lady Shalltear known about Ilwé Linum the entire time? If it was a test, Ludmila had failed miserably. A spy had wormed its way into the good graces of one of the Sorcerous Kingdom’s Nobles with effectively no effort. Ilwé Linum had been privy to the goings-on of not only her administration, but anything of the Royal Army that she had heard. She attached herself to Lord Mare’s tree, which allowed her to monitor the movements of two members of the Royal Court whenever they came by. Lady Shalltear’s presence would also be known.

Ludmila bit her lip. There was too much for her to keep track of. A whim enacted through sheer sympathy had given away so much sensitive information and potentially endangered three members of the Royal Court. If she had used her Skill to measure Ilwé Linum’s ‘alignment’ with His Majesty or even tried to get a sense of her strength, she might have noticed right away. Instead, she had given her the benefit of the doubt for no tangible reason.

She wouldn’t be surprised if Lady Shalltear appeared and executed her for her foolishness at any time. There was nothing to say in her defence. She had every opportunity to detect and deal with Ilwé Linum, but an arbitrary, irrational line of thinking had blinded her to everything.

Staring down at the trembling, weeping form of Lluluvien Linum, Ludmila gauged the Maid’s strength. She didn’t seem any stronger than a Silver-rank Adventurer. The use of her Skill showed Lluluvien as not much different from most subjects in the Sorcerous Kingdom, which wasn’t helpful at all. An assessment of Wiluvien showed much the same.

“I will speak with Lady Shalltear about it the next time we meet,” Ludmila said. “How are you and your sister doing?”

“Us?” Lluluvien looked up at her, “I-I don’t know, my lady. Angry. Frustrated. More than anything else, we’re mortified. How could we have brought this upon someone who has bestowed so much of her grace upon us? Every time I think of that woman I want to strangle her and drown myself in the river at the same time. Maybe…maybe you should get rid of us, my lady.”

“Get rid of you?” Ludmila frowned, “Why?”

Confusion twisted Lluluvien’s expression. She rose partway, then sat back down, staring at the floorboards.

“Why? From the very beginning, all we have ever done is benefit from your goodwill. Now our family has betrayed you – I don’t even know how much harm has been done. Ilwé…we’re her daughters. I just know there’s some part of her that we carry within us; something sinister that hides in the shadows. I can feel it. We don’t want to hurt you, my lady.”

“Stand up,” Ludmila said. “The both of you.”

The Linum sisters stood before her, brushing off their skirts. They did not meet her gaze, instead continuing to look down at the floor.

“You are right about what you said,” Ludmila told them. “Ever since we went to Fassett County, I always wondered why you were so good at coordinating the Shadow Demons. After that, you assumed duties involving the realm’s security and rose to positions of command. You claim that some part of your mother has been passed onto you; something sinister that hides in the shadows…but that is not true. What Ilwé Linum has passed onto you is not her character, but her blood.”

“Her blood?” Wiluvien frowned.

“The steps you have taken in my service have revolved around gathering information, performing reconnaissance and surveillance. That is what your mother did, is it not? It is also what she passed on to you. A bloodline. You may resent her for doing what she did, but, at the same time, she left something extraordinarily precious to you. I am not one who would waste such a precious gift; you will continue to serve House Zahradnik.”

Lluluvien and Wiluvien shared incredulous glances before finally daring to meet her gaze. A long moment passed before Lluluvien spoke, tears filling her steel-grey eyes.

“I don’t understand,” she sobbed. “How can you trust us after all that, my lady?”

“Probably because I am an idiot,” Ludmila smirked. “But I also understand one important thing: trust means nothing without risk.”