Last Life

Book 3: Chapter 25

I RETURNED HOME before dawn. Bertrand and Jacques had spent all night up waiting for me, so they had lots of questions. I simply responded that I was fine, ordered them to go rest, and collapsed into the soft armchair in my office. Honestly though, the gloomy thoughts swarming in my head made it impossible to truly relax.

But alas, I was not able to save the Watchmaker. The torture and heavy dose of “truth serum” they fed him had finished the poor man off. The dark spot slowly growing in his brain I was unable to stop. The viscount died in my arms without saying anything I could use. He didn’t even seem to recognize me.

I breathed a heavy sigh. The Viscount de Tosny was a complicated man, and I didn’t harbor any particular sympathies for him. So it wouldn’t exactly be true to say I felt bad for him. I was more upset by the loss of an established channel for selling my hollowstones. And that was not all. The Watchmaker was a very well-informed man. I was accustomed to thinking I could always turn to him for a consultation. And now this indubitably useful man was no more.

But the big man I had tied down tight with bedsheets and dosed with truth serum was able to tell me a lot more things. Honestly, though, at first he tried to resist the elixir’s magic. He even tried to pretend not to understand my language, but then the serum took effect and the Atalian started singing like a bird in unaccented Vestonian. Still, if he had kept speaking Atalian, I’d have understood him. That was one good thing I’d inherited from Max.

As it turned out, Guido Sordi, and that was the big man’s name, with a gang of four other Atalian’s I’d now snuffed out were all that remained of the band of assailants that came after Princess Adèle and her bodyguards. He told me they didn’t have a proper plan of attack on that day. They simply acted according to circumstances.

In Guido’s words, it all might have worked out if the unknown mage hadn’t gotten involved and helped the princess’ guards. When I told him he was now speaking to that very unknown mage, his eyes shot up into his forehead.

The potion worked as intended, so Guido was suddenly overcome by warm feelings and warned me that the Scarlet Knights had set a big reward for information about the princess’ mystery savior.

Beyond that, he said the temple functionaries were not the only ones pursuing me. Guido had overheard the man who oversaw their group speaking to an informant, who said royal investigators were turning over every last stone to find the unknown mage. It was all down to Princess Adèle. Supposedly, Carl III’s granddaughter wanted to bestow her savior with royal gratitude.

The conversation turned smoothly to the Watchmaker. As it turned out, everything that had happened that day was the result of a long string of coincidences.

Guido Sordi and his men got an order from their handlers to immediately go east over the border with Astland, then make for Atalia. And that would have all been well and good, but the five decided to get into a little side hustle so they wouldn’t go home empty-handed. Naturally, without telling their handlers. They had no reason to know about such things.

As it turned out, the Atalians’ initial target was an Astlandic merchant one of Guido’s fighters had heard about. After a quick planning session, the five killers broke into the room the Astlander was renting in a portside hotel. They quietly took out his protection and gave the merchant a thorough interrogation. Needless to say, they were very happy to find a bag of hollowstones on the merchant. They hadn’t even imagined they might get this lucky.

Before dying of torture and truth serum, the merchant told Guido and his fighters who his supplier was. From there, it wasn’t hard to guess who Guido Sordi’s band targeted next.

Before killing the moron without the slightest bit of pity, I extracted everything he knew about his handlers and their informants. And the more I heard, the less I wanted to get involved in any of this crap. The biggest thing I learned was to keep my distance from priests both in Vestonia and other lands. All these knightly orders starting to pop up in Mainland like mushrooms after a rainstorm, and which mercilessly hunted down true gifted, were deeply intertwined like a massive root system.

Guido also said that Carl III was in for many unpleasant surprises from the war. What specifically the Atalian did not know, but his handler had at some point made reference to an indomitable knightly brotherhood.

Essentially, I wouldn’t be surprised to find out the knights known as Stone in Vestonia, or the Knights of the Gray Rock would flip to the side of their “brethren” from the Order of the Scarlet Shield at the very worst moment.

After all was said and done, I searched the attackers’ bodies. My take was a dozen bruts I had sold in the first place, gold and silver coins, and a small sack of gemstones. I didn’t take any jewelry or other things. The thing was that the Watchmaker had a lot of conspicuous objects that belonged previously to rich, influential people. They would make it easy to identify me. Better not to risk it...

I was awoken by a timid knock at the door. I opened my eyes and looked around. Through a crack in the heavy curtains, sunlight was streaming into the office. So, I must have dozed off for a minute in the chair.

Getting up from the desk, I stretched and went to open the door.

“Monsieur,” the footman standing outside said in a clear voice. In his hands was a small silver platter with an envelope atop it. “A letter for you.”

Taking the envelope from the small platter to find it sealed with red wax, I opened it without much thought. The sheet of thick high-quality paper monogrammed with what was likely the seal of a ducal house, the following was written in an elegant calligraphic hand:

Young man, you have caught my eye.

I would like you to join me in my manor for lunch tomorrow.

No refusals accepted.

The Duke de Bauffremont.

And now the reds were in on the game. I wondered what the queen’s brother could want from a common bastard.

While I read, I heard hurried footsteps coming my way from the main entrance. I looked up. Bertrand appeared breathing heavily. I read clear concern on his pale face.

“What happened?” I asked, trying to make my voice sound steady and confident. I noticed that intonation reassured the old man when he was worked up. But this time, the trick didn’t seem to work.

“Monsieur, out there...” Bertrand’s voice was shaky. Droplets of sweat beaded on his forehead. “Someone has come to pay you a visit... It’s His Worship Baron von Herwart.”