Last Life

Book 3: Chapter 2

ÉRIC JUDOR CAME BACK the next day at the scheduled time with an attorney. After we signed the agreement, I handed the money changer two fat sacks of crowns. He meanwhile handed me the promissory note, which I then destroyed with the attorney as witness.

After the lawyer left my office, Judor set several dozen more scrolls on my desk.

“Three thousand seven hundred fifty silver crowns — Gilbert trading house,” the money changer started listing off with a salacious smile. He clearly loved what he did. “Five thousand three hundred — Legrands. Six thousand two hundred — de Gramonts, and as for de Marbot — fifteen hundred. The ones with the nearest terms are nine months out. Almost all held by the Craonne bank. That makes a total of sixteen thousand seven hundred fifty silver crowns. What do you say, chevalier?”

Hrm... What could I say? That was crazy money. Which I did not have. And that was even considering the fact I was able to finagle a thirty percent discount.

“Welp, let’s first take a look...” I said and started scanning each note in detail.

It only took me five minutes to make sure all the signatures were in place. No one tried to modify or forge any of them. Beyond that, Judor provided me with purchase contracts notarized by an attorney for each.

After a scan, I started reading through them all carefully. Most of them were payable to bearer and had definite payout terms. But some of the de Gramont notes for two thousand crowns were pledged against some place called the Barony of Valff.

Also... The de Gramont debt obligations were signed in two different hands.

Pulling away from my reading, I called out softly:

A minute later, the door opened, and my valet came into the office.

“Monsieur...” he bowed.

“Take a look at these papers,” I suggested. “And tell me what you see.”

Bertrand came closer to the table and started looking closely at the notes, sorting them into two piles.

“Monsieur,” he addressed me when he was done. “The first pile are notes pledged against the Barony of Valff and signed by your late father Ferdinand de Gramont. The rest were signed by your uncle Heinrich de Gramont.”

“Hm...” I stroked my chin, paying no attention to Éric Judor, who wasn’t saying a thing. “Curious... Remind me again, where is that barony located...?”

“The Barony of Valff is part of the lands of County Gramont, in the northeast of Vestonia, monsieur,” he replied slowly. “On the border of Astland.”

“I see,” I nodded. “Thank you, Bertrand. You may go.”

The old man bowed and left the office. The way he did it was so decorous and courteous it was as if he was valet to the king himself. Even Éric Judor found himself struck, watching Bertrand leave with respect.

“Okay,” I came, drawing the money changer’s attention. “I’ve seen all I care to. I am interested in all the notes except these.”

I pushed aside the stack of paper bearing Max’s father’s signature.

“For the rest, I could write you a de Craonne bank check for six thousand crowns.”

Judor shuddered and took the stack.

“Six thousand is plain robbery!” he exclaimed. “Particularly for notes from such esteemed Vestonian families! But that isn’t even the biggest part. Alas, chevalier, I do not work with checks...”

“Okay,” I said, getting up from the seat. “Then I ask you to forgive me for wasting your precious time. I do not keep such large amounts of cash.”

The money changer hurriedly hopped out of the chair and, as if afraid I was about to leave, started speaking softly while cautiously eyeing the door:

“I understand, chevalier... It is not safe to keep such large amounts in the home in times like this. They’re safer in a bank vault...” He again eyed the door and turned to a whisper. “What if there was another way to settle payment for the notes? Perhaps I could let them go for ten thousand. Believe me, chevalier, it’s a very good price.”

“What are you suggesting?” I also lowered my voice. “You won’t take a check... A loan? A promissory note?”

“No, no,” the money changer hesitated. “You’ll have to forgive me, Monsieur Renard, for my directness but you... How can I put it...? You put your life at risk too often. And beyond that... Please don’t take this too personally. You’re not creditworthy at present.”

He looked around the office.

“As far as I’m aware, this manor is your only property and, forgive me again, but I know exactly what it cost you. And now we’re talking about ten thousand crowns.”

“Then I repeat,” I came, slightly raising my voice. “What exactly do you want for payment?”

The money changer hesitated for a moment, then started selecting his words carefully:

“You see, Monsieur Renard. Everyone in Toulon knows that you and your friends returned with lots of loot from your recent outing, which you sold to Maître Jacob.”

“That’s right,” I nodded. “He is the only man in Westerly Fort we can legally sell such things to. I am a law-abiding subject of his majesty. As are my friends.”

“Yes, yes, of course...” Judor waved his hands. “And yet... You could after all have, ghm, well let’s say, set aside some of the loot for a rainy day... Of course, intending to sell it later and only to a legal representative of the king. Isn’t that so?”

Now that was interesting. When I found out Éric Judor wanted to meet me, I asked Théo Vincent for intel. The lieutenant assured me the money changer, just like every other member of his profession, was slippery as an eel but relatively harmless. He bought up and resold valuable papers and keepsakes. The pawn business, essentially. But otherwise, he was a common money changer with no links to smuggling. And here he was giving me clear hints that he was interested in magic artifacts. Very curious.

I had met people like him in my past life. They got very set in their ways. And if a man such as Éric Judor decided to take a risk, something must have happened. And thus his strange trepidation. He was clearly feeling out of his element. Hm... As if he was being forced... Actually, why not?

“Purely hypothetically?” I lowered my voice again.

“Of course!” Judor’s eyes lit up with delight.

“Well, purely hypothetically, then of course that could be so,” I responded. After that, the money changer took heart. “But we needed money for Lieutenant Vincent’s treatments. So we sold all our loot to Maître Jacob.”

Judor’s expression shifted after that. It transformed in an instant from one of joy to one of sadness.

“Too bad...” he muttered out in disappointment. “What a pity...”

I shrugged and threw up my hands. As if to say I couldn’t help.

Scraping the papers off the table, Judor placed a hand on the stack of notes with Max’s dad’s signature. As an aside, based on the dates and money, I was starting to suspect Ferdinand had spent a lot of dough in preparation for his rebellion. He must have put a lot on the line for the risky endeavor. Only the gods could say how many more such notes were circulating in the country.

“Chevalier Renard,” Judor turned to me suddenly. “May I ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

“Why are you not interested in your own father’s promissory notes?”

As if you don’t know. Slippery creep.

“My father is dead,” I replied. “And most likely, the barony pledged in those notes was either transferred to the crown or my uncle after his rebellion. If my father had simply died, I would have had a chance to redeem the money indicated in the note. But my father did not die a simple death. He was executed as a traitor.”

“But there’s also the courts,” Judor made a final attempt to pawn off the worthless papers on me.

Funny.

“I suspect I’d have to spend more money on bribes than I’d earn on that transaction. I am not the least bit interested in getting bogged down in bureaucracy.”

Based on the heavy sigh, Judor was in complete agreement with me on the matter. He was already near the door and reaching for the knob when I threw out some chum.

“I wouldn’t pay so much as ten crowns for those papers.”

Judor froze and turned.

“Not enough,” he immediately fired back. “A hundred would be an excellent price.”

I must have been on the right track. Those notes were as good as pulp.

“But please,” I smiled. “What good are those worthless papers to me for a whole hundred crowns? Twelve tops, and that only in memory of my dear father...”

In the end, after a brief negotiation, Judor and I agreed to twenty crowns and to meet back up in the next few days to sign the purchase contract in the presence of an attorney.

“What good are those papers to you, monsieur?” Bertrand asked me after the money changer had gone.

“Not sure yet,” I shrugged, pulling on my old, worn boots. I decided to change into street clothing and follow Judor. I needed confirmation of my theory about him.

“Twenty crowns is a ton of money!” Bertrand reminded me. “And most likely, your father’s notes will not be redeemable.”

“I know,” I nodded, attaching a dagger in a basic scabbard to my belt. “But the deal is done. So, we’ll just have to see!”

With an approving pat on Bertrand’s back, I left the office and a few minutes later caught up to the unsuspecting money changer in the merchant quarter. And approximately an hour later, my suspicions were confirmed. Cautiously peeking out around the corner of a fish stall, I watched Éric Judor standing not far from the baker’s stall having an animated discussion with Monsieur Gobert, the secret chancery agent.

I snorted. Hrm... They were not going to give up so easily. Which I really should have been expecting.

* * *

“I think the time has come to discuss our plans,” I came, looking at Théo Vincent sitting opposite me and his wife Clémentine. “We cannot delay any further. Soon, I will leave for the capital.”

Théo, his big hand gripping the top of his cane with such force his knuckles went white, cleared his throat a few times and glanced at his wife.

My healing work had ended a week prior, so Théo could already get by without the cane if he wanted. But he was in no hurry to part with it. The problem was that, inside the heavy stick, there was a very heavy steel rod. Carrying it around everywhere, Vincent occasionally swung it like a club or spun figure eights with it like a cavalry sword. And although the cane was constantly evading his grasp for the first few days, now Théo could swing it around like a little twig.

Clémentine gave a short nod to let me know she was listening. My housekeeper in the last month had very quickly gotten the manor in order. The short, dainty looking woman got all the people in my house under her thumb before anyone noticed. Other than me, and of course Bertrand. My valet was more than she could chew.

Honestly though, at first they had little spats. But then the hostility dwindled to zero. I watched the whole process from the sidelines and didn’t interfere. And good thing. The pair quickly came to an understanding about who was in charge. Clémentine recognized Bertrand’s ultimate authority and now I often caught them having calm discussions like old pals.

Two weeks ago, the Vincents and I had a serious conversation. Théo suddenly told me he’d refused to serve in the garrison at Westerly Fort. He let me know he’d had it up to his neck with serving the king and offered his services to me. To say I was caught off guard by his offer would be an understatement. Still, I should have seen it coming.

Tassen was also shocked by the news. He and Vincent even got into a fight and didn’t talk for a few days. But in the end, they made up. On that day, Vincent reeked of booze from a mile off. In the end, Baron von Brunon became Westerly Fort’s third lieutenant. Which was perfectly fine by me.

Vincent also was constantly accepting work from Jacques related to my outbuildings. Jacques meanwhile treated his “replacement” with understanding. He would be going to the capital with his master. Vincent meanwhile would be staying behind in Toulon.

“So then,” I continued. “As you are aware, this manor costs me a pretty penny every month.”

“Yes, monsieur,” Vincent replied, trading glances with his wife.

“Some of the expenses are covered by our side businesses,” my housekeeper clarified. “But not all.”

“True,” I nodded. “Those side businesses have proven very profitable. Which is why I’ve decided to expand them.”

“How so?” Clémentine asked.

“I am buying a farm on the outskirts of Toulon. Several if necessary. I am aware that it will mean investing at first. But with time I’m sure income will outstrip expenses.”

“Curious,” she drawled out thoughtfully and said: “Sundry prices have shot through the roof. If we approach this properly, it should work.”

“Gunnar and Kevin I’ll take with me,” I said, watching Clémentine’s eyes light up in satisfaction. My housekeeper clearly was a fan of the expansion plans. “You have Jérémie, Claude, and Luc at your disposal. If necessary, feel free to hire more assistants. We still have time. I can spend a couple days riding around the area to select a good spot. Beyond that, I can help choosing animals and poultry.”

“Yes, monsieur,” Clémentine nodded with a smile. “I’m sure you’ll choose the very best.”

“Don’t you doubt it,” I smiled back and turned to her husband.

“As for your, Théodore, I have a separate task. But first, I want to ask you a question.”

“You have my attention, monsieur,” he replied.

“Do you remember our first conversation? If I’m not mistaken, you were asking about the local smuggling operation and whether I intended to, as you put it, wet my beak?”

“Yes,” he nodded. “I recall.”

“What do you think now?”

He was not caught off guard. He stared me straight in the eyes and said:

“Everything I’ve seen and heard over the last month leads me to believe that fate has connected me and my family with a man who in the future will become one of the richest and most influential people in Mainland. I think all this fuss with the manor and farms is just a cover for the schemes you have for the future. I haven’t yet discovered exactly what they are, but you can count on me completely.”

“Good,” I nodded. “But I seem to remember you giving me a warning. I’d like to avoid misunderstandings between us. I have embarked on a risky endeavor. I’ll have to grow eyes on the back of my head.”

My tone didn’t bother Vincent or his wife.

“You saved my life,” Théo replied simply and without too much drama. The man looking back at me was a warrior ready to go to hell and back. “You gave me and my family hope again.”

“Over the last month, you’ve done more for us than all the masters my husband served in his life put together,” Clémentine came firmly. I saw determination in her eyes, and even a certain amount of ferocity. “And when tragedy visited our house, none of them so much as thought about us. Which leads to a logical question — if you’re giving this much help to people you don’t know at all, how much will you do for those you truly hold dear?”

“At least I’ll make them fabulously rich,” I responded calmly.

After saying that, I got up from my desk and walked over to the bookshelf while they looked on with bewildered attention. I got out both bags I’d taken from the Shadow and undid the drawstrings.

While watching the Vincents’ pale faces slowly stretch out, eyes pinned to the different colored bruts of various sizes, I again sat back in my chair.

Oddly, the first one to come to her senses was Clémentine. She turned to look at me and, her voice shuddering in trepidation and delight, asked:

“Monsieur... Where did you get them? But this... This...”

“These are my loot from the Shadow,” I responded calmly and, nodding at the bookshelf, added: “There are also pelts and various small items there like teeth and magical creature claws. And this is only the beginning.”

Then I looked at Théo. The former lieutenant of Westerly Fort, probably never having seen so many bruts before in his life, seemed afraid to move a muscle.

“Théo,” I called. The sound of my voice made Vincent shudder and look me in the eyes. “Now do you see what I have in mind?”

“Yes, monsieur,” he squeezed out with a parched throat.

“Are you with me?”

“To the bitter end,” he responded without a second thought.

“Clémentine?” I turned to his wife.

“To tell the truth, there have been times when my husband and I have had to risk our lives for food I would be hesitant to feed to pigs,” she said with a sad smirk, then in a firm voice repeated after her husband:

“I am with you to the bitter end, monsieur.”