Last Life

Book 3: Chapter 27

The Outskirts of Herouxville

A retreat for the mentally ill at the Temple of the Most Luminous Mother

“MOTHER?!” VALERIE EXCLAIMED, unable to believe her eyes.

When Max offered her a ride out of town before his trip up north, Valerie accepted his invitation enthusiastically. Recently, she had not often been able to escape the incessant control her uncle’s wife the snake Catherine de Gramont had imposed upon her.

But Max was easily able to talk them into a trip with the count, and Valerie enjoyed the freedom, though she knew it was temporary.

Needless to say, she was very surprised to find out where Max ended up taking her. As it turned out, he was somehow able to pay off the superiors at the retreat where they were keeping Margarita de Gramont so she could go see her mother.

She was so overwhelmed and delighted her heart was about to jump out of her chest. Logically, she might have realized that this strange brother of hers, who made her feel truly protected, was trying to win her affection. But at the time, she was prepared to do a lot just to see her mother’s beloved face after so much time.

And now, Valerie looked at the woman the orderlies at the retreat brought into a separate room to talk to her and had a hard time recognizing her mother. The severe gray dress, a strict caul of a mousy shade. Her once luscious black hair was pocked with gray and up in a taut, modest style. There was a burnt-out look in her dark eyes set into a pale, sunken face. In her thin fingers, a well-worn copy of the Acts of the Most Luminous Mother... What ever happened to the glimmering, proud Margarita de Gramont? The one everyone admired and envied at balls? Oh, abyss, what had they done with her?

“Valerie?” a spark of recognition lit up in her mother’s eyes. “Child, is it you?”

Unable to resist any longer, with tears in her eyes, she threw herself into her mother’s embrace. Sobbing with bitter pain, she squeezed herself against Margarita, all the while feeling how much thinner she’d grown.

“There, there, my girl,” Margarita de Gramont said, stroking her daughter’s hair. “Calm yourself, dear. It isn’t fitting for a viscountess to show herself in elite society with a face puffy from crying.”

“Mom...” Valerie sighed mutedly. “They said you don’t recognize anyone... Those vile scoundrels and liars...”

“What are you saying, sweetie?” Margarita said with surprise. “Of course I recognize everyone.”

“Yes, yes,” Valerie came, moving away from her mother and hurriedly drying tears. “Now I see that you have your memory and your mind! This ghastly retreat is no place for the Countess de Gramont.”

She hit the dark stone walls and gloomy icon of the Most Luminous Mother looking down on the two mortals with reproach.

“It’s all true, my sweet,” Margarita came straight away. “Tell your father to send a carriage for me. My fast is over, I can return home. We have a lot of business to attend to. We must ready you for the ball. What do you think, will your brothers finally make up their minds? Or will I have to find them brides myself?”

The happy smile slowly crept off Valerie’s face. She started to unconsciously nod slowly at her mother’s every word as if agreeing with her. But at the same time, Valerie felt her heart flutter in sorrow and hopelessness... She suddenly realized that the old, proud Margarita de Gramont was no more. She died along with her husband and beloved sons. In her place was left this husk with old memories...

“But where are your sisters?” Margarita asked. “Why are they not with you?”

“They’re back at home,” Valerie came in a lifeless voice and lied for some reason: “They’re getting ready for a reception you’re planning.”

“What clever girls,” the countess shook her head. “I always said you should take after your older sisters, sweetie.”

Valerie sighed sadly. Because they had turned against their mother. They accepted their traitor uncle’s will and were obedient to his wife...

“And how did you get here then?” the countess asked. “Unaccompanied? Alone? What will society think?”

“No, mom,” Valerie replied. “I’m not alone. My brother is accompanying me.”

“Henri is here?” Margarita smiled wide. Her eldest son was always her favorite. “But why didn’t he come in? Or is Philippe with you? He probably got held up flirting with some young orderly. The rogue! Now I’ll have to hear complaints from my prioress.”

“No, mom,” Valerie shook her head. “Maximillian is accompanying me. My third brother. Son of my father and Anna Renard.”

“Ah, that brother...” Margarita’s face went pale and lucid. Valerie thought she saw her old mother for a moment.

“Stay away from him, my daughter,” the countess said with an authoritative voice. “He isn’t who he seems. If the truth gets out about your father’s sins — there will be trouble!”

“What are you talking about, mom?” Valerie frowned.

But the old Margarita disappeared. A pitiful shadow returned in her place.

“Sweetie,” the countess said in surprise. “You’re talking foolishness. Anna Renard died long ago in childbirth along with her newborn daughter...”

A little while later, saying goodbye to the countess, who was brought away by retreat orderlies, Valerie thought fatedly that her mother’s illness had not only not improved, it was starting to progress. She was even starting to get confused about her own memories...

* * *

Northland

Fjordgrad, capital of Vintervald

The embassy finally reached Fjordgrad, Vintervald’s capital city. The dominant atmosphere was one of cheery, celebratory animation. The main roads from the port to the konung’s palace thronged with crowds of gawkers who appeared to have come from all corners of Northland, Vestonia, Astland, and other counties and baronies. The building walls were decked out in colored banners with the crests of families that were going to take part in the Trial.

Our embassy was a source of lively interest from the locals. The bright outfits, feathers, expensive armor and swords, jewelry, ribbons and lace — common northerners, dressed in normal clothing stared at the Vestonian nobles with unconcealed delight.

Chickadee, my horse, a white-coated beauty I’d bought from some circus folk at the Herouxville market who were selling her for meat due to lameness, sensed the attention and, preening, began to nod in different directions as if greeting the people. Thanks to my treatment, her lameness was a thing of the past. So Chickadee did a great job on the trail.

I, knowing first-hand about cold climates, bought good warm outfits for myself and my people with the minimal amount of adornments which, for the record, earned us scornful looks and snickering from the nobles accompanying Prince Louis. Only when we reached the true north did they seem to realize how wrong they were. If not for the healers and magic potions, half of the embassy would have been lost on the way to Vintervald.

“Based on your expression, monsieur, I get the feeling you’ve been here before,” Jacques said, following my gaze as he rode next to me stirrup to stirrup. Our carriage was now being steered by Gunnar while Bertrand sat inside and stoked the oven.

My warm things and merchant’s wagon, which at first elicited mockery and laughter from the elites, very soon became an object of envy. Jean-Louis de Levy, meanwhile, who I got along with quite well, was often invited to visit at breaks.

To my left on a white horse rode Lucas Devers, Jacques’ war buddy, who asked to join my employ after he came to his senses and put on some muscle.

Jacques and I had agreed not to raise the questions of the man’s origins just yet. Otherwise, Lucas would get curious. Despite the fact that Jacques vouched for his friend with his own life, I first needed to get a closer look at the man. So, Lucas didn’t exactly know who put him back on his feet. I, by the way, didn’t regret for a second that I had taken him with me. Beyond the huge amount of travel experience, Devers truly had a talent for cookery. Though I could see what his secret really was. Lucas had a great understanding of herbs and used them in his cooking to masterful effect. Most likely, he descended from true gifted from a forest region.

“Do you ever get the feeling...?” I replied to Jacques, “that you’ve been somewhere before, even though you know you haven’t? That’s how I feel now...”

I was of course being elusive. I had been here once before. But in a dream... This broad street paved with rough stones leading toward the port. The buildings with animal skulls. The people, and most importantly — the dark yellow banners with the head of a black boar. I had seen all this before. And realizing that fact made the blood turn to ice in my veins. My secret benefactor, the one who put me into this body, must have figured he would find it more interesting to watch over my last life this way.

The veterans nodded to one another.

“Yes, I’ve had that happen a couple times,” Lucas confirmed. “Especially when I try new food.”

“Everybody has their thing. Grub was always yours,” Jacques guffawed. Meanwhile, he happily winked at a young redheaded woman who, opening her mouth in surprise, was staring wide-eyed at the embassy. The young woman instantly went beet-red and responded with a shameful smile. The big, bearded beast of a man standing next to her sent an evil glare at us. Must have been a husband or brother.

“Watch yourself around here,” I warned Jacques. “The last thing we need is problems with jealous husbands or angry brothers.”

“We’re in Northland, monsieur,” Jacques chuckled carelessly. “These savages find ways of squabbling even if you give them no excuse. They only understand the language of force.”

I shrugged as if to say, “you know best. I warned you.”

Northland... I went back to the conversation with the Duke de Bauffremont in my mind for the millionth time. He was right. By the next morning, I got a letter from the secretary of His Highness Prince Louis, saying I had been given the massive honor of embarking with the embassy to the north.

I thought back on the faces of my cousins when they found out I’d be travelling with them and laughed. François was the most upset. Gabriel took the news with more restraint. Over the course of the trip, I exchanged just a couple words with him. He spoke to me through his teeth, as if doing me a huge favor. François meanwhile was pretending he simply didn’t notice me.

Prince Louis, for the record, was also not that interested in me. I was apparently right in the end, and it was his people who insisted on including me in the embassy. The king’s youngest son was constantly annoyed, sad, and melancholic. And everyone knew exactly what was happening. His depressive state was all due to Blanca de Gondy.

I wondered what he would have said if he found out about the letter she sent me. In it, she asked about my health and wished me luck on the upcoming trip. The paper it was written on had been soaked in perfume. It gave the impression the marchioness had used an entire flagon of magic perfume on the one letter.

Valerie meanwhile was genuinely upset when she heard I was going away. She by the way, after the visit to her mother I arranged for through my attorney, had started looking at me in a new way somehow. It was as if she was trying to detect something new in my eyes and face.

My aunt and uncle’s sendoff also stood out. Where Heinrich de Gramont, as always, was primping and puffing out his cheeks, the Duchess du Bellay wished me luck and asked me to look after my cousins.

While riding past the big tavern, I noticed three men wearing white robes with deep hoods on their heads. The three of them, paying no attention to the fuss surrounding our arrival, were intentionally walking parallel to us.

Everyone cautiously made way for him. Some made protective gestures while others spat scornfully after him. Clearly not the most popular guys around here.

“Priests of Hoar,” Lucas hissed scornfully through his teeth. He must have spotted them, too. “Their vile god just can’t get his fill, the brute.”

Jacques’ old buddy had scores to settle with priests. And not only northern ones. All priests... He wasn’t a huge fan. Which was more confirmation of my theory.

Priests from the Frost Temple... I took another look at the trio. My scanner immediately revealed that one was a stryker. He, by the way, shuddered and stopped before turning sharply and staring out into the crowd. He could tell I was looking at him.

Based on his reaction and developed energy system, he would have been a serious opponent. If they had a lot of people as strong as him, the Duke de Bauffremont’s mission would require more resources and effort from me. But challenges were nothing to be afraid of. The pearls he was paying me were worth all the effort.

Thanks to these bruts, the size of my reservoir had started growing much faster. Training and powering up my energy system had progressed to a new level. Because I had only used two of the ten pearls given to me.

In the meantime, our procession reached the konung’s palace. The closer we rode to it, the more my heartbeat sped up.

The four-story stone monster, which was more similar to a giant fortress was oppressive with its fearsome power. The Vestonians from the embassy, staring scornfully at the buildings and streets of the capital city all while exchanging rude comments about it, somehow all fell silent at once. Aha... This palace would be hard work even for big armies.

By that time, we’d crossed the broad square paved with huge stone slabs, and our column heads slowly started approaching the wide stairwell, atop which stood the masters of Vintervald.

The tall powerful figure of Konung Bjørn Sharptooth could be seen from afar. When I made it closer, I was able to get a better view. With his long gray hair, gold crown made of the long fangs of a predatory creature, and blue face tattoos — he made Prince Louis look more than silly with his ribbons and lace.

And seemingly, I wasn’t the only one to think so. All the men and women around Bjørn Sharptooth started smiling happily. The younger guys even elbowed each other, provoking bouts of laughter.

The only one who looked at the Vestonian prince with no scorn or mockery was the beautiful pale blond woman with blue eyes and an elegant golden diadem atop her head. In fact, the woman seemed to look at Carl III’s son with a certain approval and satisfaction. Louis was clearly to Princess Astrid’s liking. And the fact it was the konung’s daughter, the reason we’d come here, could not be doubted.

I gave her a scan out of curiosity. Hm... She caught me off guard again. Princess Astrid’s energy system pulsated with lilac mana. Furthermore, her channels and nodes were well cultivated. Baron von Herwart was as far from the princess as Fjordgrad was from the Shadow.

As an aside, every third person in the konung’s circle was gifted, him included. And there were both shadow mages and true gifted. Our embassy, not counting me or Lucas, had just seven gifted people. Gifted could seemingly live more openly in Northland than Vestonia or Atalia.

Looking at the northerners in true vision, I hit upon a saturated crimson energy system. When I switched to normal vision and saw the face of the person it belonged to, my heart skipped a beat, and my throat clenched in a brief spasm.

Because this whole time, I just thought all these visions from my mind were nothing but a dream. But it was her... The woman from my visions who looked so much like the girl I’d lost forever...

Sensing my attention, the raven-haired beauty narrowed her dark eyes and sized me up wryly with a degree of superiority in her cold eyes. Then, she lost interest and turned away.

Only then did I realize I hadn’t breathed the whole time. With a deep breath, filling my lungs with the icy northern air, I exhaled shortly and shivered like an animal.

“Well, Jacques,” I came fairly loudly to the veteran, nodding at the dozen most elite Vestonian nobles, who were invited into the palace together with Prince Louis. “Looks like you were right. That’s northern hospitality for you. They couldn’t find space in the palace for me, or most other people in the embassy. Oh well, I heeded your warning... I’m sure the food at the tavern where you rented us rooms the food is no worse than the halls of the king.”

Jacques gave me a clever smile and, while the other Vestonians looked on perplexed, turned his horse around and showed us the way.

Before following him, I saw out of the corner of my eye that False Thais was looking at me with a burning, unblinking gaze. She seemed to hear what I was saying perfectly.

I turned and, with a broad smile, bowed to her in the saddle. Chickadee, whose years of traveling with a circus had taught her many tricks, immediately gave an elegant equine curtsey while the public looked on captivated and, as the crowd shouted in delight after me, carried me off after my men.