Last Life

Book 3: Chapter 26

“GOOD MORNING, MONSIEUR! I hope you’ll forgive me the early visit.”

Baron von Herwart hopped off his horse and, not looking at the footman, tossed him the reins.

The broad-shouldered Astlander looked fresh and, seemingly, very happy. A self-satisfied smile beamed on his face while something clearly unpleasant and snakelike shone through in his blue eyes. The baron clearly had a scheme in mind. And no wonder.

“Oh, come now, baron!” I smiled back. “It’s my honor to have you. Still, I must admit I do not entirely understand your purpose.”

“I have come to check on your health!” the baron came loudly enough for all to hear. “Furthermore, my duty as a nobleman implores me to apologize for the blunder I committed during that unfortunate dance at your esteemed aunt’s reception!”

The voice was full of passion, but the eyes — zero repentance. The baron looked at me with unconcealed mockery.

“You needn’t have troubled yourself, monsieur,” I came. “A letter would have sufficed. That was what my uncle did, for instance.”

The baron snorted back.

“Oh, come now, chevalier! It’s no trouble at all. After all, it’s a fine morning for a horseback ride. Beyond that, I have a custom of handling everything relating to my honor as a nobleman personally, face to face!”

I got the hint. I already figured he wasn’t going to leave me alone. Everyone was buzzing in my ear about it.

“Oh well,” I put on an open smile. “Seeing how you’re already here, won’t you join me for breakfast?”

“Thank you, chevalier, but I am full!” the baron’s smirk grew even bigger. “I already had the satisfaction of eating breakfast with His Highness Prince Heinrich this morning!”

And then he came to personally tell me that news and enjoy the look of astonishment on my simpleton’s face? How petty...

Or was he about to get revenge on me now? He wouldn’t attack me in my own house in front of all my servants, right? No, he clearly had another plan.

As an aside, the duchess and Baron de Levy were right — his disfavor lasted just a few days. If he had ever truly fallen into it.

“But I wouldn’t say no to a glass of wine,” the mage added. “The wine collection in your castle’s cellar is the stuff of legend at court!”

“Then, please!” I came, again putting on a cheery smile. “I don’t know exactly what they say at court, but I can assure you — my cousin amassed quite the collection.”

When we were all alone in the fireplace room, the baron sat in an armchair opposite me, took a little sip from the glass, smacked his lips in satisfaction and said:

“If taking François de Gramont’s wine collection was meant to anger him, then I can say with confidence that you pulled it off. As far as I know, he’s still infuriated by the loss of his playthings.”

The sudden familiar tone didn’t bother me. The veneer of respect and good intention was just for the outside world.

I just shrugged and asked:

“Why did you come?”

“Can’t you guess?” Von Herwart answered with a question.

“We’re wasting time,” I replied coldly. “I have a lot to do, and your master is probably waiting for you.”

“I see you weren’t too surprised to hear I’d been pardoned?” the baron laughed, ignoring the word “master.”

“No, I wasn’t,” I shook my head. “And neither was anyone at court. They’re all used to your outbursts. By the way, the prince must have really given you an earful about that slip-up. After all, you were only ordered to humiliate me, but what did you do? You humiliated His Highness in public. I imagine he only tolerates you because you are a mage. Otherwise, he’d have gotten rid of you ages ago.”

The baron squinted and, tilting his head to one side, said:

“Nice try, but I do not intend to attack you in your own home.”

I shrugged and chuckled.

“I had to try, you understand. I already got you once. You must have skipped the day your teacher taught self-control.”

Despite his external calm, I could see perfectly that the baron’s energy system was slowly filling with mana. If I could provoke him to attack right now, I could forget about this threat once and for all. If of course, I survived.

“You’re one to talk about self-control,” von Herwart snorted. “Think I couldn’t tell you’re also playing dirty?”

Ah, there it was. While I was sizing him up to find the best way to make him snap, the baron was trying to play the same card. I chuckled internally. Alright, let’s play. But you have no proof. If not, Prince Heinrich would already know. And I’d be the one branded a cheat.

Feigning sincere surprise, I asked:

“What led you to such conclusions?”

“Let’s assume it’s possible you could have dodged and parried my lunges,” the baron responded with a sidelong smile. “But how did you survive my final blow? Everyone said you moved away at the last second. Nonsense! I was there. I saw you. You didn’t move. Even with a wooden sword, I could easily pierce you straight through like a moth with a pin.”

“Perhaps you’re losing your touch,” I shrugged again. “Couldn’t even kill a mere mortal with magic.”

“Mere mortal?” the baron laughed. “Oh, no! You’re no mere mortal. Leave the fabrications for the easily fooled simpletons. You think I couldn’t sense the surge of alien power before the blow? You were cautious, but I was able to sense your magic. I know for a fact you used a spirit shield and gave yourself up to my blade so easily only because you were confident you couldn’t be hurt.”

Hm... So, the fruit of my many days of experimenting turned out to have a defined name here. And no wonder... Those magic guilds must have been teaching them something.

“Intriguing theory,” I chuckled. “His Highness Prince Heinrich must be taken by your investigation. Especially given you could easily test it by challenging me to another duel. But if you muck things up again... I suspect the prince’s patience has its limits...”

“Oh, no!” the baron smirked back at me, standing from his chair and setting his unfinished glass of wine on the table. “I will not kill you right now. You won’t get off so easy, bastard. I don’t yet know who you are or what guild trained you, but sooner or later your secret will come to light. And when it does, I will destroy you.”

“In any case, remember this — I am ever at your service, baron,” I responded, standing from my chair.

* * *

“Uncle, I’d like to have a peek at the fish you recently received from the east,” Prince Philippe came, standing from the table and hurriedly wiping his mouth with a napkin.

Lanky with an unhealthy pallor and narrow, sunken chest, long thin arms and legs — the king’s eldest son gave off the impression of a man who had never been made to do physical exercise.

I, like every guest sitting at the table, stood up at once and, in accordance with etiquette, bowed my head slightly. I had spent two hours already at lunch with His Highness Prince Philippe and his uncle the Duke de Bauffremont, brother of the Queen of Vestonia and another few dozen elite nobles from the inner circle of the King of Vestonia’s eldest son.

To say I was surprised by the honor I had been afforded would be an understatement. I was also intrigued — the duke clearly wanted something out of me. I’d have bet my right hand it had nothing to do with my present popularity. Although the topic of the Duchess du Bellay’s last reception did come up a few times, as well as my part in the Sword Dance. I was asked questions, I responded, sometimes joking, but unable to shake the feeling that the lord of the house didn’t care one bit about what happened at Max’s aunt’s ball. I was here for another reason...

The long table was set on a broad terrace of the huge ducal palace with a view of a giant garden with fountains, elegant shrubbery and a huge amount of marble statuary. Compared with all the opulence the Prince of Vestonia’s uncle immersed himself in, my relatives’ palaces were like modest little country shacks.

And that put me even more on guard. A simple bastard sitting at the same table as Carl III’s eldest son and one of the most powerful people in Vestonia — it all made me feel two different ways.

On the one hand, I was aware I had been given a unique opportunity to make important connections and gain access to knowledge that might benefit me greatly. In theory, that was exactly how I was trying to move in this new world.

But on the other hand, I knew from firsthand experience how too much attention from people with power could end.

I spent the two hours observing the prince and being silently baffled. And that thin, out of shape kid with a shifty gaze and dull eyes, zits all over his gray face constantly blowing his nose was the future Dauphin of Vestonia?

Aha... Now I could partially understand why Carl III was tolerating this whole circus with the different colored armbands. At first glance, Prince Heinrich looked like the best choice for future dauphin and king of the country. But appearances wouldn’t win the fight for the throne. That would primarily be decided by having strong backing from rich and influential allies who in their turn would not benefit from having an independent and willful man on the throne...

Prince Philippe behaved like a nine-year-old boy. Or rather, sometimes I heard phrases and expressions of an adult human, but less often than I should have.

Prince Philippe’s main passion was a huge menagerie assembled especially for him by his beloved “Uncle Claude.” Beyond his animals, the “red” prince wasn’t interested in much else.

Over the last few hours, I became convinced that Claude de Bauffremont had total control over his eldest nephew. Essentially, he had taken the place of the boy’s family. My aunt was wrong about Blanca de Gondy. Even if the Princess of the South did become wife of Prince Philippe, and as a consequence the Queen of Vestonia, the ruler of the country would be the Duke de Bauffremont. If the de Gondies wanted to take power, they had to take down de Bauffremont. It was the only way...

“Of course, Your Highness!” the duke smiled sweetly to his nephew. “After all, I got them especially for you!”

“Thank you, uncle,” Prince Philippe smiled and, loudly sniffling, hurried toward the front door. And after him ran the whole army of attached footmen and servant women. The duke signaled for me to stay behind.

When the prince had gone, I sat in my place and continued savoring my desert. A tender souffle with pieces of fruit of some kind. It practically melted in the mouth.

Out of the corner of my eye, I glanced at the duke, who was thoughtfully tracing his dessert spoon around the plate. Claude de Bauffremont was the total opposite of his nephew. The short broad-shouldered black-eyed man practically reeked of health and vivacious energy.

My scan revealed that the duke was not a mage. But since I’d arrived, I couldn’t shake the feeling that some magical power was present. Furthermore, it was a power that seemed dimly familiar.

The duke finally sighed and glanced at me.

“Chevalier, I assume you are tired of questions after the last few hours.” the duke chuckled, showing his even white teeth.

He looked fifty years old but had the teeth of a twenty-year-old. With the kind of resources the duke had, he could afford the best healers and the most effective potions.

Setting aside the silverware and placing one hand on my knee, I responded:

“Indeed I am, Your Grace. It’s like you can read my thoughts. I just can’t figure out what the Duke de Bauffremont might find so interesting about a common chevalier.”

“Your question has a simple answer,” the duke replied, taking a small bell off the table and ringing it shortly.

I heard another door open behind me and a few instants later, my body was tense, ready to react at any moment. If I had hair on the back of my neck, it’d have been standing on end.

The dimly familiar magic power I could only scarcely sense had just revealed itself to me in full measure. I pulled in air through my nose and breathed a heavy sigh. Then I said calmly:

“So, you survived.”

“As did you,” I heard a familiar purring voice behind me. “Hm-m-m... You’re looking a lot tougher, fox pup.”

An instant later, the lutine, and that was exactly who it was, gently slid behind the duke’s right shoulder and froze in silence. Her wry and impudent gaze studied me from head to toe.

Hm... So this is who you really serve. So, the steppe dweller I took down in that hollow was talking about the Duke de Bauffremont. Okay, the puzzle pieces were starting to come together.

“I think we’ll understand each other better this way,” the duke came, sitting back in his chair. “Isn’t that right, chevalier?”

“Yes, Your Grace,” I nodded.

“That’s great,” de Bauffremont smiled his toothless smile. “That will save the both of us time. Let me note that I am entranced by your abilities, young man. You are the first true gifted I can remember to survive an ebb and a flow. As a matter of fact, everyone still believes only strykers may cross the Barrier. You are aware what kind of opportunities are available to you, yes? With the right support from a powerful patron, you could move mountains.”

Inside, I laughed. Different worlds, but these “powerful patrons” were like lab-grown clones of one another. If only you knew how many times I’d heard things like that.

“Am I understanding you correctly, Your Grace? Are you offering to be my patron?”

Claude de Bauffremont snorted and shook his head.

“Not so fast, young man. It isn’t so easy to have the Duke de Bauffremont as a patron. You have to earn it first.”

“Hm... Then let me thank you right now for the excellent dinner, and the chance to be introduced to the future Dauphin of Vestonia, then say goodbye and head home.”

“Of course,” the duke chuckled. “But my sixth sense, which never let me down before, is telling me you aren’t going to do that.”

I stayed sitting and feigned complete attention.

“Great then,” de Bauffremont nodded. “Good decision, monsieur. I always liked people with a business-like approach.”

The duke moved his hand slightly and came:

“Tikka, you may go.”

“Yes, monsieur,” the lutine bowed and, casting a playful gaze at me, made for the door.

“As far as I know, you met my assistant under less than ideal circumstances,” the duke chuckled, noticing my rapt gaze as I watched the lutine leave.

“Less than ideal?” I asked coldly. “You might say that. She and another few of your people locked me in a cage and fed me to a flow. But you already know that, don’t you, Your Grace?”

“I do,” he agreed. “And if you think those barbaric rituals were my idea, then you’re deeply mistaken. Responsibility for everything that happened to you and the other gifted my partner sacrificed to the Barrier lies squarely and fully with him. As for Tikka... The lutine is a creature that must have a master. I ordered her to obey the Duke de Valence. Who knew he had gone so wild out there on the frontier?”

You speak softly. Very believable. I’ll pretend I believed it.

The duke fell silent, giving me time to think it over. I frowned and pretended to digest what I’d heard.

“You mentioned a ritual...” I came, holding a pause.

The duke rubbed his nose and sighed. He was doing his best to communicate that he was a man of civilization, and such bloody sacrifices were foreign to him.

“Have you heard the legend of golden bruts?” he inquired.

“Children’s fairy tales about crystals of unusual power?” I asked. “Which harbor a powerful sorcery?”

I had been told that legend once by Lada when, according to our deal, she was instructing me about the frontier. The witch didn’t believe in them, but she told me about them in a skeptical manner. But now these gold bruts were coming up in conversation again.

“Exactly,” the duke nodded. “The Duke de Valence, known by all as the Wild Duke, was obsessed with this legend. He got his hands on some ancient folio that spoke of a very rare consequence of the Barrier — to change the energy system of gifted people and give them a golden reservoir. In other words, to create within them a golden brut.”

After saying that, the duke stared closely at me. Then continued:

“The folio also had a detailed description of a certain ritual. Basically, to sum it up, a golden brut could change a normal person into a powerful gifted one.”

“Do you think my reservoir was changed?” I laughed.

“No,” he came seriously. “I assume your ability to pass through the barrier dates to much earlier. Have I satisfied your curiosity, chevalier?”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“Okay, then let’s discuss the reason I invited you here,” he came in an authoritative tone. “Chevalier Renard, I would like to give you a mission that can only be completed by a man with such particular skills as yours. Because alas, the strykers I once relied upon, as you know, are dead.”

“You have my attention, Your Grace,” I responded, trying to look casual. Inside meanwhile, I was tense like a compressed spring.

Claude de Bauffremont had just directly told me that the Wild Duke and the renegade strykers were his people. Essentially, he was now directly telling me I had no other way out but to agree to whatever he offered me. Otherwise, I’d never get out of this place alive.

The Duke de Bauffremont was power and authority. Essentially, he controlled the entire eastern part of the country. He was accustomed to being obeyed by virtue of his birthright. Honestly though, the last “powerful patron” to try so blatantly to recruit me died of a sudden heart attack in bed.

Hm... Just like the good old days. My old line of work seemed to have followed me into this world.

“Before I name my offer, I want to show you how I intend to pay.”

Here came the carrot. After saying that, the duke again rang the bell and a footman hurriedly hopped out to the terrace holding a golden platter. On it lay a plump pillow woven of golden threads interspersed with red silk.

I only needed one look in true vision to tell what was in the bag. What I saw gave me a chill. I had a very hard time keeping just an interested facial expression.

Taking the bag off the platter and giving the footman the signal to leave, the Duke de Bauffremont set it in front of me.

“Take a look, chevalier,” the duke offered with a slight, self-satisfied smile.

I carefully undid the clasp and poured some of the contents of the sack onto my hand. Now I could give in and show a bit of emotion.

I had lying there two dark turquoise pearls. Each the size of a large quail egg. The mana concentration in the bruts was simply off the charts. The pearls I’d brought from the Shadow were nothing compared to these giants. One pearl like this would significantly accelerate the growth of my reservoir.

“I assume you know what that is,” the duke came. My astonished appearance clearly delighted him.

“Yes, Your Grace,” I came with a dry throat.

“This sack contains ten of those pearls,” de Bauffremont came. “That is an advance. If you do as I ask, you can have just as many more. On top of that, if you’re satisfied, we can return to the conversation about my patronage. Believe me, the Dukes de Bauffremont have always taken care of their people.”

Oh! I’d heard more than my fair share of such pathos-laden phrases.

But as for work... The payment was more than generous. Dodger was still Dodger, no matter the world. No need to tell me the risks, I could tell who I was dealing with just fine. I’d seen my fill of them in my past life. And no problem. I did my work, and everyone was happy. Most important was to constantly keep my nose to the air so my red tail could get out of harm’s way before shit hit the fan.

“You have my full attention, Your Grace.”

“I’m certain you are a cautious person who knows how to hold his tongue...” the duke stared me straight in the eyes and continued in an icy tone. “That is why I presume I don’t have to remind you that everything you’re hearing must remain a secret. Let this assignment be something of a trust exercise. If you do not pass, you and your people will have unpleasant consequences to deal with. Am I making myself clear, chevalier?”

“More than, Your Grace,” I responded firmly. “You have my word. The secret dies with me.”

And there was the lash. Inside, I laughed. He had no idea who he was dealing with. Dukes, after all, were also mortal.

He clearly desperately needed help from someone like me. He must have wanted to send me past the Barrier again. Otherwise, what ability was he referring to? He had gotten ahead of himself. Proof of that was the generous advance, and no less generous payment. To keep him on the hook, I gave him a whole song and dance. How could I not? He needed me.

But did I need him? Hey, why not? The pay was more than generous, plus I stood to earn a lot and gain a lot of opportunities.

Well, if I refused, I’d have to pack my things and take off for another country. After all, I was not content to live my last life as an outcast and wanderer. If I sensed a real threat, I would deal with it. I could already see several black spots in his energy system. Even the top healers couldn’t deal with him. I would only need a single energy pulse and Prince Philippe would be crying for his beloved “Uncle Claude.”

“Okay then, let’s get down to business,” the duke nodded. “Just yesterday, I became aware that Prince Louis expressed a desire to have you in his embassy, which will shortly be heading to Northland.”

My brows shot up. To be honest, the duke caught me off guard. I was preparing to hear that he intended to send me to a fortress on the frontier.

“I see you’re surprised,” he snorted. “But I am not in the slightest. After your performance at the Duchess du Bellay’s ball, where you wiped the floor with that upstart Baron von Herwart, it’s an utterly expected outcome. It just so happens my mission for you is also related to Northland. What can I say? Get ready for a long trip. I believe you’ll be told of his Highness’ desire any day. And now, listen carefully to what I want you to do in the north...”