Last Life

Book 3: Chapter 10

WHEN WE ENTERED the dining hall, all conversations fell silent, and all de Gramonts present turned their eyes on me.

I met their reaction, staring back unabashedly. The first few I noticed were two women of approximately fifty years of age. Most likely, they were Countess Catherine de Gramont and Duchess Jeanne du Bellay. They were seated on elegant chairs next to a little table and, before our arrival, were clearly discussing something privately and waving big fans in front of their faces. Still, I should note that the familial abode of the de Gramonts, which had previously belonged to Max’s father, had been constructed by true masters of their craft. With closed windows and unbearable heat outside, indoors it felt refreshing, and even cool. The architect that designed the manor was a genius, no doubt about it.

The ladies were the total opposites of one another. The first was tall and elegant with dark hair and eyes. The second... Hm... It was like I was looking at Yveline aged up by a few decades. Middling height, blonde hair, green eyes. And highly volatile. The only thing the two ladies had in common were the identically scornful gazes they awarded me with.

A step away from the highborn women on their comfortable sofa all clad in royal blue velvet, I saw three quite attractive looking women. They all looked somewhat alike. I figured one was Max’s cousin Marielle de Gramont, and the others were her sisters Patricia and Nadine. From Bertrand’s tales, I knew they were almost all the same age. Each a bit over twenty.

Based on the more vibrant dress and pompous mannerisms, I very quickly realized which one was Marielle, Heinrich’s daughter. Nadine and Patricia by comparison seemed neglected and depressed. But that did nothing to stop them and their aunts from looking on me as a footman who had accidentally stumbled into the wrong room.

Valerie was also there, sitting at a slight distance from her sisters and cousin in a little armchair reading a small book. When I came in, the look in her eyes sparkled with delight, but she quickly got herself together and now was staring into her relatives’ eyes with satisfaction and even a certain degree of mischievous anticipation.

The last two people I spotted were standing next to the window. One I had met before. François de Gramont looked like a fish out of water. His face alternated between pale and pocked with crimson spots. His expression carried so much hate. A little bit more and he would have a stroke.

Next to him stood a long-armed dark-haired kid of twenty-seven years. His cool, sharp gaze ran studiously over my face and body. This must have been Heinrich de Gramont’s eldest son Gabriel. I had a hard time not laughing. My cousin was clearly trying to put on an air of adult seriousness, but he wasn’t able to pull it off very well. I could see that he and François were outraged. Obviously, the little brother had already told him about our previous encounter.

However, uncle never mentioned it. Still, I’d have bet my right hand that François demanded the insolent bastard be punished. The time for vengeance had clearly not yet come.

To be frank, Heinrich de Gramont completely met my expectations. Closed-off, marching to the beat of his own drummer, cruel, and calculating. Pretty much exactly how I imagined him. My uncle was probably also very vindictive. For example, he didn’t bother mentioning to me that the Viscountess de Marbot many years ago was injured on a hunt, resulting in her inability to birth an heir.

The Watchmaker had told me that. He also told me about her maniac brother, who Valerie and her sisters were clearly so uneager to marry. And that explained her active participation and insistence in Abbeville.

The whole thing stunk, though getting a barony of my own as dowry was quite a hefty argument. But the timing was wrong. I was not planning to get married yet. Especially not on someone else’s orders. My uncle, as an aside, was all too eager to take the bait with the Gilberts. Now he would keep his nose in the wind to gather information. I had bought myself some time, which was exactly what I wanted.

But I was not lying — if not for the barony and relation with an ancient house, Thomas Gilbert would be a more appropriate father-in-law for me. He really did have deep pockets. And wanted badly for his grandchildren to be aristocrats.

I could only imagine Valerie’s face when Yveline told her all about my conversation with the count. I had detected the little spy right after I entered her father’s office.

“Ah, here we are!” Yveline exclaimed with a broad smile. “And this is Max... Ghm... Or rather Chevalier Renard.”

I gave a respectful bow first to the ladies then to my infuriated male cousins. François I even sent a furtive wink, which added a few crimson spots to his face. Hm... This guy clearly had problems with self-control. I was surprised he hadn’t been killed yet.

As an aside, all the people in the room were clearly Prince Louis supporters. The green flowers and floral insets in their clothing bore eloquent witness to that.

Heinrich de Gramont sent a signal to a gray-haired butler, and everyone started taking seats at a long table with the help of their footmen.

At the head of the table, as head of household, was my uncle who whispered something to his sister seated to his right. The countess was seated opposite. Then his children in order of age, with me at the far end of the table. Like a leper. Practically in the wilderness.

“Father!” François came, unable to resist. Before the footmen could even bring out the first dish, the viscount shouted out in fury: “Explain something to us all! What is that bastard doing here?!”

Heinrich de Gramont didn’t even twitch a brow.

“Since when do I have to answer to anyone?” His cold calm tone made François go pale.

“Father...” François mumbled out like a capricious teen. “That wasn’t what I meant... I just...”

“You should know your place,” Heinrich blared back. “Unlike you, Renard knows his perfectly well.”

Inside, I laughed. Uncle had decided to turn his household against me. Well, well... An utterly expected move. For a moment, we locked eyes. I seemed to see slight surprise in his. For the record, he often looked at me that way. As if he was expecting the old Max. Well, that made perfect sense.

“But Henri...” came Catherine de Gramont. The maman immediately stood to the defense of her littlest son. And based on the looks he was getting, he was also the favorite. “How can you compare them!? Your son is a viscount! And this... This...”

The countess hit me with the full force of her scorn and disgust.

“Chevalier Renard is a member of house de Gramont,” the count interrupted. “And he is prepared to do his duty as a member of this family.”

Uncle was clearly adding fuel to the fire.

“What duty now?” François asked indignantly. “He is a black mark on this family just like his traitor father!”

Heinrich didn’t seem to hear his son. He just so happened to be busy cutting up a little meat roulette with a butter knife. I meanwhile followed his example, unflappably swallowing the fine delicacy. Even the mayor of Toulon didn’t have such exquisite cuisine.

Our shared obliviousness drove my cousins even more mad, whereas Valerie and Yveline were clearly delighted.

“And speaking of duty,” the count came suddenly, cutting off the words about to come out of the countess’ mouth. “Chevalier Renard has just come to town from Toulon. He served in the Shadow Patrol in Westerly Fort.”

A dead silence fell in the dining hall. Everyone sitting at the table turned their head my direction. The count broke the silence. He pointed the butter knife at my chest and came:

“François, do you see the silver wing on your cousin’s chest? Yesterday, when you told me about your encounter with Chevalier Renard, what exactly did you call it again? Ah, yes! A barbaric trinket, I believe. Jeanne, are you familiar with that item?”

The unexpected shift from François to his sister made everyone turn their heads toward the Duchess du Bellay.

Max’s aunt, squinting slightly, sounded puzzled:

“You don’t mean to say that...?”

“Yes, sister,” Heinrich nodded. “That is precisely what I mean to say. Your nephew is a cavalier of the Order of the Silver Wing of Strix. As you recall, only two of our vaunted ancestors were worthy of such an honor. Our great-great grandfather and his grandfather.”

The duchess looked at me with new eyes.

“Max!” Yveline exclaimed in delight. “You have to tell us what you did to earn that medal!”

“Dear cousin,” I sighed. “I still don’t feel truly worthy of this distinction. I just saw a chance to help my brothers in arms and I took it.”

“And what happened to them?” Yveline asked straight away.

“They were wounded in battle with shadow beasts,” I responded.

After that, silence took hold at the table once again.

“You fought beasts from the Shadow?!” Yveline was ecstatic. “They must have had giant fangs and claws!”

“Yes, dear cousin, I did,” I smiled and replied. “And as for the size of their claws, you may see for yourself. Here... Consider this a modest gift from me... One of my trophies.”

After saying that, I took one of the shadow wolf claws from my pocket and handed it to her. With a shriek of delight, she took the curved black claw and started staring at in enraptured.

“Yveline!” the countess was first to come to her senses. “This behavior is beneath you!”

“Oh...” she checked herself and quickly stashed the souvenir.

“Forgive me, madame,” I said to her mother. “It’s my fault…”

Catherine de Gramont’s look of anger burned straight through me. But her sons looked somewhat pacified. The fact that the man seated at their table was not some “pitiful” bastard but now a hero of the frontier had clearly knocked them off their game.

Max’s sisters and oldest female cousin, not knowing how to react, looked on with interest while Valerie was undoubtedly savoring the moment. Heinrich, by the way, could see that. Despite the fact he was feigning being totally distracted by the feast, it didn’t stop him from watching how every member of his family reacted. My self-serious blood sister clearly kept herself under strict control in front of our uncle.

An uncomfortable silence fell at the table and was broken by the Duchess du Bellay. At first, she relayed news item number one about yesterday’s attack on Princess Adèle next to the temple of the Most Luminous Mother. As expected, rumors were flying. Some said it was a sneak attack by the witches, others an uprising. There was also an Atalian theory. As a participant in that fight, I found it the most plausible. Honestly though, I of course said nothing.

After that, the conversation smoothly shifted to Prince Louis, who the de Gramonts supported.

“I have it on good authority that the king wishes for Prince Louis to be married,” the duchess said.

“Who has he selected?” the countess asked, looking tense.

“Alas, my dear, despite all our efforts, his majesty has selected the daughter of the northern Konung Bjørn Sharptooth,” the duchess said with a sincere sigh.

All the women at the table gasped.

Hm... Did Max’s aunt seriously think she could marry Yveline or Marielle to the prince? Why was I surprised? The de Gramonts were an ancient and influential family. As far as I knew, the Duchess du Bellay had buried her two sons and now had seemingly redirected all her energy into her nephews and nieces. As an aside, that explained all the green armbands around the de Gramonts’ elbows.

“I said from the beginning that nothing good could come of this scheme,” the count snorted. “The princes need the king to establish power. If not for my brother with his foolish ideas, perhaps the duchess and I could have stood a chance, but alas the once great name of our house has been left in shambles.”

Hm, there I was in complete agreement with my “dear uncle.” Max’s father had done a bad turn to his whole family’s reputation.

“But why exactly the daughter of some northern barbarian?” Heinrich’s eldest son Gabriel spoke up. “Couldn’t a better candidate have been found in Vestonia?”

“Why don’t we ask your cousin about that?” the count came with a wry edge. “What do you think, Max? What made him choose the northern barbarian?”

Uncle just could not stop trying to turn his family against me. I wondered why. Was he trying to sic his sons on me like hunting dogs on a wolf?

Everyone sitting at the table turned to face me. Most of them looked on me with condescension as if I was some country bumpkin. Gabriel was clearly annoyed by his father’s disrespectful tone and the unusual attention he was paying to the wretched bastard.

With pity, I set aside my silverware.

“I believe it has to do with the war,” I replied.

“Hah!” François exclaimed mockingly. “Amazing! What a revelation! You’d get just as good responses from any shopkeeper down some merchant alleyway.”

“Dear cousin,” I turned to him. That clearly threw him. He just cringed. “You shouldn’t underestimate the analytical capabilities of shopkeepers. They must keep up with events in their kingdom and the world every day. If they take their fingers off the pulse for even a second, their business will dwindle.”

“Father!” François cringed. “That’s absurd. What could a shopkeeper know about politics?”

Heinrich ignored his son’s words. As an aside, I saw happy flickers in the duchess’ eyes. I’d have bet money that she did not have the greatest opinion of her nephews.

“Max!” Yveline said to me with a smile. “Come on! Parry! What could a simple shopkeeper know about politics?”

“Quite a lot,” I replied. “As a matter of fact, dear cousin, you could stand to take a couple lessons from one.”

“I’m afraid father wouldn’t approve,” Yveline giggled.

“Alright, then allow me to explain with a simple example.”

François gave a loud snort. Gabriel meanwhile gave a condescending chuckle.

“For instance, let’s take... ghm...” I looked pointedly at the table and pointed a finger at a little porcelain saucer. “How about this...?”

“A saucer?” Yveline asked.

“Yes,” I nodded. “What is it made of?”

“Porcelain.”

“True,” I nodded. “And porcelain is made of white clay. Which is harvested in the north. In County de Lusignan.”

“Why are you telling us all this?” François lost patience. “And what does it have to do with shopkeepers?”

“Everything,” I replied. “Shopkeepers deal in porcelain just like this.”

“Oh, gods!” my cousin shook his head. However, neither his parents nor aunt intervened. They were listening closely.

“Max, what is the connection between porcelain, war, Prince Louis, and the konung’s daughter?” Yveline asked.

“Good question, dear cousin,” I smiled back and picked up the light saucer. “Now, let’s say the shopkeeper and other porcelain dealers sell a saucer like this for a crown a piece. Let’s imagine they learn about raids by the Northlanders into the northern provinces, one of which is the County de Lusignan. What will happen to the price of porcelain?”

“It will go up!” Yveline replied straight away. “White clay harvesting will cease due to the raids! And with time, the production of porcelain will come to a grinding halt!”

“Right,” I nodded. “See? It’s all connected. And now another question. What will happen when the Count de Lusignan and other northern counts find out that their provinces are being raided by Northlanders?”

“They will hasten home with their retinues to defend their holdings and families,” Yveline answered quickly.

“And that will severely weaken the royal army,” I added. “Because we are at war with Atalia.”

“Do you mean to say His Majesty wishes to marry his son to the konung’s daughter to shore up the northern borderlands?” Yveline asked thoughtfully.

“That is precisely what I mean to say. If not for the war with Atalia and the massive risk of weakening the royal army, his Majesty would hardly have made such a decision.”

For a little while, the people sitting at the table traded glances. Heinrich broke the silence.

“François,” he came mockingly to his son. “What if I now take your cousin’s advice and send you to apprentice with a shopkeeper?”