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Before the Storm: Act 11, Chapter 15
🕑 Added 2025-08-18 07:16:45 +0000 UTC“W-W-W-W-Welcome to Re-Bl–!”
Baroness Illerand bit her tongue mid-greeting. The Merchant standing across the counter furrowed his brow. In response, the teary-eyed young noblewoman raised an arm to point a finger.
“Seize him!” She cried.
“What!”
The Merchant backed away in alarm. Liam slapped the Baroness’ hand back down.
“Sorry,” he said, “she’s new at this.”
Shortly after returning with Tybs, Liam learned that the southern gatehouse was not only missing its usual complement of armed guards, but also its customs staff. There were several plausible reasons as to why that was, but he couldn’t imagine House Blumrush knowingly entrusting the collection of duties to anyone else when their own people were close at hand. Countess Beaumont sent someone to inform Lord Reginald that they needed a replacement official, but, as the day went on, none appeared.
As such, it fell upon the Countess to supply one in House Blumrush’s stead. The only people on hand who qualified for the role were the Countess herself, Viscount Ranford, and Baroness Illerand. Fortunately, the patterns of life in the Azerlisian Marches were bound by the realities of Re-Estize, so they had all afternoon to brush up on the relevant laws and procedures before Merchants started to arrive from over the pass. Unfortunately, that didn’t seem to be enough for Baroness Illerand.
The Baroness wiped her eyes before trying again. The Merchant seemed to be at a complete loss: he couldn’t treat a noblewoman the same way he could a customs officer, after all.
As he waited for his cargo to be inspected, the Merchant sidled over to stand beside Liam.
“What in the gods’ name is that smell?” He asked.
“Corpses,” Liam answered.
“Corpses! There’s already this famine; have we been cursed with a plague as well?”
The mere fact that he could even make that guess spoke volumes about the state of Re-Estize. A plague could only happen when there were too many people and not enough Priests. It might also have explained the existence of characters like Vicar Emberson: having healing magic where there was a shortage of it could make one very rich.
“There was a battle last night,” Liam said. “You didn’t see any Mercenaries on the loose out there?”
“None whatsoever,” the Merchant replied. “Is it safe to do business in the city?”
“That depends on your definition of safe,” Liam said. “The city is short on security, so the Nobles have been assigned to oversee different parts of the city. If you’ve been to the Azerlisian Marches before, you should understand what that means.”
The Merchant nodded in understanding.
“That explains the young lady over there. Who is she, if I might ask?”
“Baroness Illerand. Countess Beaumont’s faction was put in charge of the southern part of the city. We won’t do anything to you so long as you don’t break the law.”
The Merchant bobbed his head and returned to his wagons. A few minutes later, they were allowed to trundle through the gate. Lady Illerand returned to her seat, relief painting her expression.
“Good job,” Liam said.
The young noblewoman smiled up at him. Figuring that things wouldn’t get much better or worse, Liam turned away and went to see how Tybs was doing. He found the adventurous Merchant – or whatever he was – with his wagons, which were parked along the inside of the city wall. His crew was hard at work nearby, stripping the corpses brought to them and cataloguing their findings. Countess Beaumont was with him, flanked by two of her armsmen.
“Where’s Lord Ranford?” Liam asked, “He was supposed to be working at the customs office.”
“There was an altercation a few streets over,” the Countess Beaumont said. “He went with a handful of armsmen to see what was going on.”
“I hope he doesn’t start any trouble,” Liam said. “How about the Priests? Are they still complaining about all this?”
“Not within my hearing. The donation for their services comes from the sale of this equipment, after all. Currently, they’re busy performing purifying rites on the newest stretch of cleared street.”
Tybs let out a derisive snort. The Countess turned to arch an eyebrow at him.
“Is there a problem, Mister Tybs?”
“I mean no offence, my lady,” Tybs replied, “but all their moaning into the wind will do nothing. The quaint superstitions of this place will be the end of it.”
“And what would you suggest be done?” Countess Beaumont asked.
“I believe the Crusader States have the right of it,” Tybs said. “And rightly they should, for they have successfully kept the spread of the Dreadlands at bay for centuries. The answer should be common sense, yes? Life. Life is the answer to Undeath. A civilisation is not only concerned with battling the physical manifestations of death that prey upon the living, but also the dark energies that give rise to them. The celebration of life is most vigorous down in the south. It is too bad there are not many Humans there to celebrate with. Here…well, it brings to mind that one place near the Beastman Confederacy that became so wretched it imploded into a negative energy singularity.”
“You mean the one that spawned Soul Eaters?” Liam asked.
“The very same,” Tybs nodded, then tilted his head curiously. “It is strange. Your people know of this event, yet do nothing to avoid the same fate?”
“Uh, we didn’t get the same details, I guess.”
Many stories from the wider world made their way to the region, but what was true and what was not fuelled many a drunken argument. Never mind whether the feats described were exaggerated and to what degree, even when these tales happened was often in question. As one might expect, this was one of the main reasons why they were treated as mere entertainment by most rather than any sort of reliable history or news of events abroad. At best, people would pick and choose what they wanted to believe out of the versions of the stories that managed to make it to them.
They shifted closer to the wall as a cart filled with stripped corpses was pushed past them. A Paladin and a Cleric escorted the vehicle, which slowly made its way to add its grisly cargo to the pile burning in an obscure site outside of the city walls.
“So,” Liam said, “find anything interesting?”
“Nothing unexpected from Mercenaries in this region,” Tybs said. “There is the occasional magic item, but most of it is entirely mundane. Lady Beaumont and I were just discussing how the spoils should be divided.”
“Divided?” Liam frowned, “I thought you were going to buy this stuff.”
“It’s not so simple as selling what we collect and keeping the proceeds,” the Countess said. “House Beaumont was not the only participant in last night’s battle, and the others will want what they believe is rightfully theirs.”
“But they’ll be arguing over who did what for months,” Liam said.
“Yes, well, that is part of the problem,” Lady Beaumont said, “but it doesn’t have to be. If we keep everything for ourselves, then the rest of the nobility will turn against us. If we distribute the spoils, then House Blumrush will interpret it as an attempt to undermine their influence. If we hand everything over to House Blumrush, then the issue of distribution becomes Lord Reginald’s problem.”
“Alright,” Liam said, “so it sounds like you’ve got it figured out. What’s left to discuss?”
“How much we should keep for ourselves,” the Countess replied. “Lord Reginald will undoubtedly dole out the spoils according to House Blumrush’s best interests, so we shall secure our share before handing the rest off to him. Unfortunately, we can only guess as to what counts as ‘fair’ in Lord Reginald’s estimation and we should only keep an amount that doesn’t attract his scrutiny.”
“So you’re trying to figure out how greedy you can be based on how greedy you think everyone else will be.”
“I believe Lady Beaumont is being too conservative,” Tybs said. “The sheer volume of goods is enough to capture the attention of your peers. Once you sprinkle in a few magic items, they will be so preoccupied with what’s in front of them that they will not consider what else there might have been.”
“I prefer to err on the side of caution,” Lady Beaumont said. “Mister Tybs, I understand that you wish to maximise your gains, but my faction occupies a position of weakness. Should the other Nobles question us, we must have a plausible defence in hand.”
“They wouldn’t believe the truth anyway,” Liam said.
“What do you mean?” The young noblewoman asked.
Liam looked up to the nearby rooftops, which the Beaumont armsmen had exploited to deadly effect the previous night.
“If we split up the spoils based on contributions to the battle,” he said. “House Beaumont easily deserves three-quarters of it. None of the Nobles would accept that, though.”
“To be honest,” Lady Beaumont said, “I never even considered our accomplishments in the battle.”
“You didn’t?”
“I didn’t. There is reality, and then there is reality. The reality of our present circumstances is that expectations of performance are more important than results. Each house has a perceived level of economic, political, and military strength, and every house will do its utmost to insist that its strength at least matches that perception, regardless of the truth.”
“That’s stupid,” Liam said. “So nothing ever changes?”
“On the contrary,” the Countess said. “Change happens constantly. It’s just that Nobles are more deliberate about it. We have far more than ourselves to be mindful of, after all. To put it simply, things happen in cycles. With every season comes new revenues, commodities, and people. With those limited resources, we must choose from a variety of economic and political opportunities to invest in. What commoners see as ‘stupid’ is in reality an attempt to make the most out of those investments, even if only to salvage what one can from them.”
“What if they’re stupid investments?”
“Well, I can’t say that it doesn’t happen. How quickly one is dissuaded from continuing to support a poor decision depends on the severity of its consequences. At any rate, what I mean to say is that the behaviour you observe now is the result of what has been built up from the past. Recognition for the rise in House Beaumont’s fortunes will manifest over the coming seasons as people assess what might come of it and how to best use their resources to take advantage of the potential change that it brings. It is not much different from anyone else’s life; merely a matter of scope and scale. Even cities and trade are bound to the seasons.”
Of course, ‘recognition’ for House Beaumont’s achievements would never manifest…at least not as far as the Azerilsian March’s present rulers were concerned. Beyond being allowed to continue to exist, he wasn’t sure how the Sorcerous Kingdom would reward her for her collaboration. Then again, being a part of the Sorcerous Kingdom was a huge step up from being a part of Re-Estize.
Liam left Lady Beaumont and Tybs to their discussion and went to see what Viscount Ranford was up to. He found the Viscount and his escort not far away, standing at the edge of the Beaumont Faction’s jurisdiction opposite a Noble accompanied by several armsmen.
“This isn’t a village in the territories, Lord Ranford,” the Noble said. “The whole of Re-Blumrushur is ruled by House Blumrush. The law has no borders here.”
“That may be so,” Lord Ranford replied, “but I cannot allow you to ransack homes with impunity in your search for this alleged footpad.”
“Alleged? Do you question my word?”
“What’s going on here, Lord Ranford?” Liam asked.
The two sides turned their attention to Liam.
“Ah, Mister Liam,” the Viscount nodded in greeting. “I was just telling Baron Fenway here that he doesn’t have the authority to perform arbitrary searches within our jurisdiction.”
“The crime was committed in our jurisdiction,” Baron Fenway countered, “so we reserve the right to bring the offender to justice!”
“Could you describe this offender to us, Lord Fenway?” Liam asked.
“He was a…a commoner! A filthy commoner in filthy garb!”
Do you know how little that narrows things down?
With details like that, Baron Fenway could grab anyone and claim they were a criminal. Since the citizens were technically under House Blumrush, it was up to Lord Reginald to stand in their defence. Unlike rural tenants, however, he had no contractual obligation to do so. With that being the case, the citizens had no chance against a Noble’s accusation, which was why they tended to keep their heads down around them.
He waited patiently for a better description, but none appeared to be forthcoming.
“You are correct that this isn’t a village in the territories, Lord Fenway,” Liam said. “Cities are not small and isolated, so your quarry could be anywhere by now. With your supplied description, the chance of successfully finding the culprit is slim to none.”
“Tch. Lord Reginald will hear of this. The criminal would have never thought to escape through here if the Beaumont Faction weren’t so soft. And you, Lord Ranford: shame on you for allowing that woman to ride roughshod over your lot. Men must be more assertive.”
With that, Baron Fenway turned and left. The citizens who had stopped to spectate returned to their business.
“He’s got nothing real on us,” Liam said.
“That may be the case,” Viscount Ranford said, “but his faction will surely raise a fuss.”
“Let them,” Liam shrugged. “We’re the ones who are delivering last night’s spoils to House Blumrush.”
“I suppose that’s true, but I doubt that any grudges formed out of this incident will be relinquished so easily.”
Liam sighed. At this point, he was glad that the Sorcerous Kingdom was about to put an end to the ridiculous farce playing out in the Azerlisian Marches.
“Has anything else like this happened, my lord?” He asked.
“That depends on what ‘like this’ means, Mister Liam,” Viscount Ranford replied. “Baron Fenway may have a point about us being too soft. Within half a day, the citizens have somehow discerned that the southern part of the city is ‘safe’. I do not fancy a reputation for harbouring criminals.”
“What about a reputation for being fair and just?”
“A currency worth little when it comes to the great game of houses,” the Viscount said. “Never mind that, I doubt that even a quarter of the citizens who benefit from our benevolence would return the favour. The Guilds only exploit lenience and the Merchants would sell us for a cut copper coin. ‘Fair and just’ is a tactic for noblewomen who are sheltered from the hard truths of the world. It is one of the only ways they can scrape up a pittance of power.”
It wasn’t as if they were encouraging lawlessness, but he supposed that being especially hard on the people would be considered a valid tactic in the Azerlisian Marches. Ruthlessness was equated with strength, and fairness was considered weak and effeminate. While this was far from the truth, it was true enough in a place that had long been moulded by those views.
“In that case, my lord,” Liam said, “you should probably get yourself to the gatehouse. The evening traffic is already coming in. Lady Illerand might be too soft on those dastardly Merchants.”
Viscount Ranford rushed off, oblivious to Liam’s sarcasm. Maybe he was too concerned about losing control over something he was supposed to be in charge of. Liam followed the Noble and his armsmen back to the gatehouse to see how he would do, but was stopped by Countess Beaumont as he walked by Tybs’ wagons.
“Mister Liam, inform House Blumrush that the spoils from last night’s battle are ready to be retrieved.”
Done already?
It was a bit under six hours since he brought Tybs over, and there were somewhere around a thousand corpses to ‘process’. The southerner and his crew were definitely no strangers to the grim task.
“How many wagons should they bring, my lady?” Liam asked.
Lady Beaumont sent a questioning look at Tybs. The man gestured at the nearby wagons.
“Eight wagons of this size should suffice,” he said.
Liam frowned as he estimated the amount of equipment eight wagons could carry.
“How much are we giving them?”
“Nine Hundred Thirty-Seven sets of armour were recovered, with almost the same number of battlefield weapons and sidearms to match. House Beaumont will be retaining one hundred sets while Mister Tybs is taking fifty for his services. The clothing will be donated to the Temple.”
It felt like they were giving away too much. As the Countess had proposed, however, it was an amount that the other Nobles were unlikely to complain about even if they did find out she had retained her share before sending the rest to House Blumrush.
“How many magic items did you find?” Liam asked.
“Several hundred,” Lady Beaumont replied. “The vast majority are ‘minor’ by Mister Tybs’ reckoning. In line with his suggestion, a quarter of those have gone into what we’re handing over.”
While a few hundred magic items might have sounded like a lot, Mercenaries, like Adventurers, sought to enhance both their safety and earnings by better equipping themselves. He hoped that the other Nobles weren’t too familiar with what their former Mercenaries wore.
“Have you stashed away what you’ve kept?”
“It’s in an out-of-the-way place under guard,” Lady Beaumont replied. “The temple has already carted away their donations.”
“Alright.”
Liam gave the gatehouse one last look-over before heading off towards the inner city. Viscount Ranford had taken over for Baroness Illerand, and the Baroness was nowhere to be seen.
I hope he wasn’t mean about taking over.
He couldn’t say the Viscount hadn’t, given his attitude concerning noblewomen. What would have happened if he had done so with his ‘older sisters’? The Viscount would have probably been too focused on trying to impress Lady Corelyn and Lady Gagner. Lady Wagner would have probably gotten back at him by doing something a hundred times worse. Lady Zahradnik would either ominously walk away or subject the Viscount to a three-hour lecture. Liam couldn’t say which was worse.
A voice from somewhere ahead broke Liam out of his idle musings. Citizens watched from the nearby buildings as a man in a soiled Baker’s outfit pleaded with the armsmen at the gate.
“Please, you must do something!” The man cried, “They haven’t done anything wrong!”
Liam stopped and went to stand next to a man watching from the door of a cobbler’s shop. The man looked at Liam suspiciously as he approached.
“What’s that guy talking about?” Liam asked.
The man looked away without answering. Despite Countess Beaumont’s charity efforts over the winter, the citizens’ opinion of the nobility still outweighed what goodwill she had won. Even if House Beaumont was now seen in a positive light, the fear of reprisal for ‘slander’ was an ever-present concern for the denizens of Re-Blumrushur.
In front of the gate, the Baker continued to plead his case.
“They were just helping out with the evening crowd,” he said. “Verdeau’s men had no reason to take them away!”
“Pay this miscreant no mind,” a Noble said as he approached the gate from an eastern avenue. “The two women he refers to have been charged with unlicensed prostitution.”
“Prost–” the Baker sputtered. “My wife was working the counter; my daughter was guiding the line! How is that–”
“Spare us your lies,” the Noble said. “Not a single man spoke in your defence, so you thought to go elsewhere to spread your ridiculous tale. And one more thing…”
The Noble raised a hand. Two of the armsmen in his escort walked forward.
“Wh-What are you…get your hands off–!”
One of the armsmen seized the Baker by the shoulders while the other proceeded to punch him with a mailed fist. The nearby citizens watched wordlessly as the man was thoroughly beaten before being thrown to the street. His whimpers seemed to echo from the buildings as blood dripped off his nose and chin to dampen to sun-baked cobblestones.
“You will address your betters with respect,” the Noble said. “Count yourself lucky that you aren’t dangling from a gibbet for defamation.”
Liam scanned the faces of the citizens. Despite the brutal display, not a single one of them had raised a voice in protest. As the Noble returned to wherever he came from, none of them raised a hand to help the beaten Baker. Likely the same had happened when his wife and daughter had been taken away: there was no incentive for the citizens to defend one another, and every incentive not to.
Irritated by the obnoxiousness of it all, Liam went to help the Baker to his feet. He didn’t care what the Nobles thought of him, and, at this point, it wouldn’t affect his mission too much anyway. After leaving him on a wooden bench outside a tavern, he continued on his way to find a representative from House Blumrush. The armsmen stationed at the entrance to the inner city eyed him silently. Liam imagined they weren’t sure what to say about what he had done.
“Who’s acting as watch captain?” Liam asked.
“Sir Damien just took over for Sir Bainne,” one of the armsmen replied. “He’s up in the gatehouse.”
Liam nodded in thanks before making his way up the gatehouse stairs to speak with the Blumrush Knight. The Knight ended up being on top of the gatehouse, his arms crossed over his chest as he surveyed the cityscape.
“Sir Damien.”
“Mister Liam.”
“Letting that kind of thing happen is risky,” Liam said.
“So is acting to slight another faction so openly,” Sir Damien replied. “Keeping a tight rein on the commonfolk is simple enough. Baron Verdeau is another matter. He might not be much on his own, but he’ll be sure to do everything in his power to turn Monfort’s faction against yours.”
He wondered if there were other places in the world where helping an injured Baker would earn him enemies.
“I hope there’s more to your being here than being seen standing beside me,” the Knight said.
“Countess Beaumont sent me to inform House Blumrush that the spoils from last night’s battle have been collected,” Liam said. “You’ll need eight wagons to move it all at once.”
Sir Damien uncrossed his arms and made his way to the stairs, motioning for Liam to follow.
“I’ll send for the wagons,” he said. “What’s the situation on High Street?”
“If you’re asking about potential threats,” Liam replied, “it’s been quiet all day. I can’t speak for the other jurisdictions, though.”
It took all of thirty minutes for the wagons to appear from Blumrush Castle, with eight times the number of armsmen accompanying them. Each armsman was fully equipped for battle, adorned in full sets of chain mail and armed with spears and longswords. Resplendent in shining plate armour that gleamed in the evening light, Sir Damien led the convoy down High Street. For the life of him, Liam couldn’t fathom what they expected to encounter on their journey, which covered about five hundred metres.
At the southern gate of the city, Countess Beaumont awaited them with Viscount Ranford and Baroness Illerand standing alongside her. Sir Damien rode right up to them before dismounting to offer a respectful bow.
“Good evening, Sir Damien,” the Countess said.
“And a good evening to you as well, Lady Beaumont,” the Knight replied. “Lord Ranford. Baroness Illerand. Lord Reginald is most delighted to hear of your prompt handling of matters at the southern gate.”
“Given the nature of the problem,” Lady Beaumont said, “not being prompt in its resolution would have been catastrophic for the entire city.”
“Indeed,” Sir Damien replied in a disinterested tone before turning his attention to the equipment piled along the inside of the wall. “I assume these are the spoils from last night? Lord Reginald wants it all moved into the castle before nightfall.”
“They are,” Lady Beaumont nodded. “Additionally, here are the customs duties we’ve collected. The sentries haven’t spotted any inbound travellers, so we’ll be closing the gates shortly.”
The Countess gave Baroness Illerand a nod. The young noblewoman timidly came forward to present a tied-up roll of documents along with a small leather coin purse.
“House Blumrush thanks you for your service,” the Knight said as he received her offering. “One can only hope the other houses will be able to conclude the day’s business so smoothly.”
“Have there been problems elsewhere in the city?” Viscount Ranford asked.
“A city always has its problems, Lord Ranford,” Sir Damien answered. “The citizens do not live the structured, orderly lives that you and your subjects are accustomed to. I, for one, will count it a relief when I can finally return to my fief.”
Easy for you to say.
What the Knight stated wasn’t wrong, but it was framed in such a twisted way. In a fief, everyone and everything had a specific purpose, and nothing was allowed to exist that was outside of the ruling lord’s plans. Anything that didn’t belong was simply removed. This applied to the King, his Nobles, and all the way down to the lowliest Farmer.
Every lord was granted enough land not only to earn an income, but also to ensure enough revenue for development and the security to protect that development. Every knight was granted enough land to fund their training and equipment. Every tenant Farmer and woodsman had enough land to earn a reasonable living for themselves and their families. Every one of those people held contracts that listed their rights and obligations, though how well they were enforced could vary from place to place.
Even so, it was more than what townsfolk and city dwellers had. Unless one was a member of the fortunate few who managed to work their way up the ranks of a guild, a life of poverty awaited. By comparison, rural tenants were guaranteed a living for themselves and their families for life through their contracts of tenancy, which their heirs would inherit. If there was a famine, Farmers and their lieges ate first. If disease struck, cities and towns were where it spread the fastest.
In their part of the world, there were no cities that could support themselves entirely off of foreign trade, not even the so-called trade cities like E-Rantel or the great capitals of the region’s countries. Without membership in a guild or temple, citizens couldn’t even hope to expect some form of protection by the law…or from it.
Unsurprisingly, the result was the chaos that Sir Damien so disdained. People did whatever they could to survive because they had no choice, fighting over the scraps of what resources trickled in from the countryside. It was a brutal existence where scores died daily while the wealthy and established looked on unconcerned.
Once, Lady Zahradnik had compared a city’s existence to one where dozens of Demihuman tribes were stuffed into a tiny space and left to fight amongst themselves. Each guild was not much different from a tribe, and all of the labourers and unaffiliated commoners were the Goblins struggling under them.
“And who might this be?” Sir Damien asked.
To the side of the gatehouse, Tybs had come to join the discussion, stopping a respectful distance away. Lady Beaumont gestured with a sweep of her right hand to introduce the man.
“This is Mister Tybs, a Merchant from the south who has been invaluable in helping us sort out the aftermath of last night’s battle. Mister Tybs, this is Sir Damien, a Knight under House Blumrush.”
Tybs came forward with his mask of a smile, stepping forward to remove his floppy cap before bowing in greeting.
“It is an honour to make your acquaintance, Sir Damien. My services are at House Blumrush’s disposal, should it require them.”
The Knight cast a distrustful eye upon the Merchant.
“Your offer is appreciated,” he said, “but there is something off about your look.”
“Ah, you have a discerning eye, good sir,” Tybs replied. “It is the Elf blood in me.”
Sir Damien narrowed his eyes.
“Elf?”
“Indeed,” Tybs nodded. “I have the privilege of carrying the blood of one of the great Kings of Eryuentiu…or so I would like to say. The truth is, when they conquered the world five centuries ago, it is said that they conquered every fair maiden along the way. In my homeland, it would not be wrong to say that none who claim to be Human are fully Human anymore.”
The Knight’s moustache twitched in thinly-veiled disgust. He turned without another word and strode off to harry his men. Tybs took the rejection in stride, his smile unfaded.
“It was worth the try,” he shrugged.
“House Blumrush has its favoured Merchants anyway,” Liam said. “Ones that they play against each other. What are you going to do now?”
“I suppose it is time to return to the south,” the Merchant said. The seasons turn, and with them come the winds of trade. Word of war also presents some interesting opportunities. It would be best to rid myself of this cargo before continuing on.”
“What can you buy from here that will sell wherever you’re going?” Liam asked.
“A good question,” Tybs answered as he rubbed his chin. “Even if there had been no famine, there is no appetite for the produce of this land. I believe the best choice will be timber: the price of it has collapsed over the winter with so many trying to trade it for food. The shipyards of the Holy Kingdom of Roble will pay a premium for it.”
“North or south?”
“South, obviously,” the Merchant let out a laugh. “The north has been devastated by war and impoverished by its reconstruction efforts, while the south remains about as wealthy as it has always been. There are rumours that the north has risen in rebellion against its rightful King, as well. No Merchant in their right mind would dare conduct business in such a place. One who manages to do so with those rebels will be blacklisted from Roble’s ports once the south inevitably destroys them.”
“That makes sense,” Liam said. “Well, I guess you should get going before House Blumrush decides you don’t deserve what you’ve earned.”
“Sound advice. Perhaps we will meet again someday.”
With one final nod to the assembled Nobles, Tybs went to gather his men and cargo. Lady Beaumont watched his wagons leave for the harbour district with an uncertain expression.
“I wonder if he’ll make it home,” she said.
The Countess’ implication wasn’t lost on Liam.
“Lady Wagner would say that it’s one of the risks of doing business,” he said.
“Lady Wagner?” The young noblewoman peered at him suspiciously, “Who is that?”
“Uh, a Merchant Noble I’m acquainted with,” Liam replied. “Managing risk is part of doing business, even if it’s a risk that people don’t usually associate with being a Merchant.”
He wasn’t sure if that was fair, considering that the Sorcerous Kingdom started moving against Re-Estize after Tybs had arrived. Then again, according to him, he had willingly passed beyond the uncivilised fringes of the world where one could fall prey to vicious acts of savagery at every turn.
“How long until the Nobles assigned to the night watch come in?” Liam asked.
“They should be here any time now,” Lady Beaumont answered. “None of them have the men to man the walls, so I’ve lent some of mine.”
Just as she finished speaking, a carriage came rolling up to the gate. A trio of Barons stepped out, all wearing armour with swords strapped to their belts. Countess Beaumont sighed and rolled her eyes before going with Viscount Ranford to familiarise them with their duties. Rather than wait around for them to finish, Liam quietly trailed Sir Damien’s ‘convoy’ to see how the spoils would be received.
As expected, House Blumrush’s loud way of doing things had attracted the attention of the Noble factions quartered in the city. From the journey between the southern gate and the entrance to the upper city alone, men from over two dozen houses could be seen watching from the sides of the street, speculating with one another over how things would play out. Many of them rushed ahead of the convoy just before it reached the gatehouse, presumably to inform their masters of the development. What they would do about it, Liam had no idea, but he was sure it would be both silly and time-consuming.
『Hey, get over here.』
His steps faltered as he accompanied Sir Damien’s convoy through the upper city.
『In the manor yard.』
He stopped and looked around before making his way to Lady Beaumont’s manor. Inside the yard, out of sight of the gate, Raul awaited him with crossed arms.
“You were supposed to contact me last night,” Raul said.
“Oops.”
“What happened?”
Liam opened his mouth, then closed it again. How could he describe his struggles against the trio of female Acolytes in a non-incriminating way?
“Well, I guess it had to be important,” Raul said. “We have a lot to talk about.”
They entered the manor to speak in its drawing room. Liam checked the windows for spies before sitting across the room’s central table from Raul.
“Where’s Countess Beaumont?” Raul asked.
“Lord Reginald sent the Nobles out to make up for the missing Mercenaries,” Liam answered. “They’ve been assigned different sections of the city to police, as well. House Blumrush’s forces have withdrawn to the upper city.”
“What part of the city is House Beaumont in charge of?”
“The southern gate and the area near it,” Liam replied.
“That might be useful.”
“Are the Rebels on their way?” Liam asked.
“They’re leaving Laval in the morning,” Raul answered. “We need to put some finishing touches on the city before they get here.”
“What do we need to do?”
“Overtax the administration,” Raul said. “Exhaust them before the rebels arrive.”
“Do you mean the Nobles, or their followers?”
“They’re one and the same,” Raul told him. “Without leadership, each House becomes unresponsive. Without followers, each Noble becomes impotent. You said there aren’t any Martial Nobles here, right?”
“If there are,” Liam replied, “they’re not strong enough to stick out. But what about the Knights? They’re going to be the main problem. Someone like Sir Damien can rally and lead armsmen even without instructions from above.”
Raul looked down at the table. His eyes moved as if scanning a map only he could see.
“If things go as planned,” he said, “they won’t get much of a chance to mount a proper defence. They’ll have lost the lower city before anyone raises a hand to fight.”
“How will that happen? Even if we let them in through the southern gate, the Knights won’t give up the lower city so easily.”
“Strategically speaking,” Raul said, “If one line of defence is breached, the defenders must withdraw to the next line or risk an enemy breakthrough.”
“These guys aren’t the most logical bunch,” Liam pointed out. “All they’ll see are people who are supposed to be their inferiors. In their heads, they win by default.”
“Then they’re dead,” Raul shrugged. “Commanders usually have to work to encircle and eliminate enemy elements. I’m not going to complain if they do it to themselves.”
“I guess that’s fair. So, what’s the plan?”
“I’m still working out the details, but you probably know your part better than I do. Overall, you need to paralyse House Blumrush’s forces and make sure the citizens don’t react poorly to the rebels’ arrival.”
Liam nodded. With everything that had happened to the city over the winter, a bit of a nudge was all that was needed to achieve the Commander’s conditions.
“Easy enough,” he said, recalling the beaten man he had left weeping on the side of High Street. “I know just where to start.”
Comments
Gabriel Marinho
I hope Lunaris is okay, because without Valkyrie's Shadow my life is too boring !!
Blink Dog 1999
Thanks for the chapter! It‘s a bit of a shame that the story went from a bi-daily schedule to a weekly schedule and now to a bi-weekly schedule, but the chapters and the story as a whole are always of excellent quality and your commitment to this ridiculous monster of a story is nothing short of admirable. No Overlord fanfiction comes even close to Valkyrie’s Shadow! Praise be to Lunaris!
Albedo's Ahoge
Thank you. 😇
Zarik0
That answer some question I pondered once in a while about half elf and etc in the 'outer' world, the trace was also here with how many we seen in past chapter, lot of stranger character of the region were with elf blood, now make me wonder if this bloodline dissemination and so everyone have some elf blood and so live a bit longuer? Have not helped them quite a bit in their society and etc vs 'normal human' society, that should have broken them out a bit out of the game system and general 'forceful' tendency of the race put into it as they are something 'newly' formed in this new world and system of it of now or dip into two race game setting at the same time, but also by being a bit more long lived, plenty of human 'problem' should be mitigated as they look more long term and so developpe more broad view naturally as they live longuer and experience more, fairly interesting and wonder if these subject and implication would reappear as the sk region open more with the outside world in the future
