Last Life

Book 3: Chapter 7

“WHAT ARE YOU SO DRESSED up for?” Jacques commented on my finest outfit, which I had acquired in Sardent, with slight mockery in his voice.

Honestly though, I could tell I rushed it. I should have waited until I got to Herouxville to order myself clothing in the capital city style. My attire now gave me away as an outsider. Or rather, a foreigner.

Jacques’ seemingly innocent question was actually a trick. It was a way of hinting at last night’s reincarnation and subsequent rendezvous with the Viscount de Tosny.

I was aware that Jacques was somewhat offended to see I had not taken him along as backup. For a certain time, the veteran had been very concerned for my safety. In that way, he and Bertrand were very alike.

Jacques was sitting on the edge of the coach I sent him to rent yesterday from the owner of the inn. He tried to saddle us with his driver as well, arguing that he knew the city better, but we had plenty of people watching us as it was, so I refused. Plus, I had Bertrand.

“How insolent,” I snorted without malice, and got into the coach.

In reality, I was slowly introducing that manner of communication into my inner circle. Three heads were better than one. And it was bearing fruit.

Honestly though, the method was not without side effects. The two were regularly trying to sneak me lessons on good sense. And that was despite all they knew about me. Essentially, Bertrand and Jacques were the best informed in my circle.

To my eye, beyond my unspoken introduction of relative freedom of speech for the pair, there was another aspect as well. My appearance. Despite the fact this body had put on a lot of muscle, I still looked young for my age. With all my abilities, if I also had some character and a speaking style fifteen years more advanced, they would have treated me differently. Still, to be frank, the two of them weren’t going to change their stripes.

“I just don’t want to lose my master too soon,” Jacques shrugged. “As an aside, I was promised a happy old age without poverty under the wing of a wealthy, influential aristocrat.”

“Not all aristocrats have the fortune to be born rich and influential,” I snorted. “Some have to do a lot of work first. Even at night disguised as commoners.”

“And here we thought such aristocrats only had to marry elite brides with a large dowries,” Jacques said confidently.

“And that is usually the case,” I sighed. “But not always. Sometimes, the young nobleman is a pawn in someone else’s game. And as you know, pawns were made for the main players to sacrifice whenever they see fit. As for last night’s adventure... I had no other choice. Furthermore, you’re too old for such things now.”

“Well, I can still remember which side of the sword is the grip,” I seemed to hear notes of offense in Jacques’ voice.

“Enough huffing,” I said. “You know what I’m referring to.”

“Monsieur,” Bertrand spoke up, sitting next to Jacques. “Jacques is a warrior and could have covered your back.”

“I had no other choice...” I repeated, putting an end to the discussion and commanding: “Let’s go.”

The buggy started off and slowly rolled forward. Meanwhile, as if by coincidence, I looked around bored at the street. I didn’t notice any “hangers on” but I constantly had the sense someone was watching. It was time to hunt down the clever trackers. They couldn’t know much, but most important to me was to grasp onto a thread no matter how small, then to see... Maybe it would lead back to a ball of thread.

“The Watchmaker is in,” I decided to share after a brief pause. The buggy just started picking up speed, so no one could hear us.

“I had no doubt,” Jacques came softly, not turning.

“You don’t say...” I rubbed my chin. “He was very afraid at first.”

“But you changed his mind?” Jacques laughed.

“Showed him ten little hollowstones,” I smiled, remembering the Viscount de Tosny’s astonished gaze. I could only imagine what would happen if he could see the largest full bruts in my collection.

“You have a way of changing people’s minds,” Jacques chuckled.

“It’s too soon to say anything,” I sighed. “The viscount thinks in valuables. Artifacts from the Shadow are a new market for him. He’s liable to lose his head. Which is why he only took three hollowstones to test.”

“You trust him?”

“Of course not,” I replied. “But he is the only person who could pull it off. Beyond that, he knows what will happen if his scribblings find their way to the secret chancery. On top of that, he is an intelligent man. The viscount does not require explanations of the full benefits he might enjoy from cooperating with us. By the way, Bertrand, just in case I’m not home, the viscount is supposed to send someone in the next few days.”

“What’s his name, monsieur?” Bertrand asked.

“A certain Zacharias Beron,” I responded. “The viscount claims this Beron is a very deft financial mind. He knows everything about speculation on the Herouxville exchange and bond auction.”

“So, you have decided to purchase your dear late father’s worthless papers?” Bertrand breathed a condensed sigh.

“Not only that,” I nodded. “Not only... Wait! Just what might that be?”

Our buggy just so happened to be driving past a large temple to the Most Luminous Mother. One of the most important goddesses in the local pantheon. A line of pikemen stretched out, holding back the ferocious onslaught of an agitated and angry mob trying to push its way into the temple vestibule. Everyone wanted to see what was going on at the main entrance with their own eyes.

And it really was worth seeing. While the crowd cried out in rage, ululating and whistling, the priests of the local religious order pulled a group of poor chained-up saps out of covered wagons.

Intrigued, I ordered Jacques and Bertrand to stop the buggy and ducked out into the crowd. With a couple of mean elbows, I started working my way to the front rows.

Before too long, I found myself near a pikeman holding a body-length rectangular shield. He was standing in the full light of a scorching sun not far from his brothers in arms guarding a narrow stairwell which, by all appearances, led into the temple crypt.

I saw beads of sweat run out from beneath his helmet over his heat-reddened face. Seemingly, he was on the verge of passing out.

Watching the look in his cloudy eyes, I saw him staring at a big, bearded man with an elongated canteen in one hand and a piece of bread in the other.

“Hey, beard!” I asked the tubby man. “I’ll give you half a thaler for your canteen.”

“One thaler!” the bearded man reacted instantly with a satisfied belch.

“Here,” I tossed him a coin and got the canteen in return. Sniffing the air, I realized I had just bought some foul wine that was hardly worth a dozen copper and watered down to nothing. Oh well...

“Here,” I said to the surprised pikeman and wiped down the canteen opening with a sleeve. I then raised the canteen to his mouth and ordered: “Drink.”

“It isn’t proper,” the pikeman rasped and glanced apprehensively toward the main contingent of pikemen. Meanwhile, he gulped loudly with a parched throat.

“This is an order from a nobleman,” I added some pressure. “If your commander asks, tell him: Chevalier Renard is at his service.”

The pikeman gave it a second’s thought and sucked greedily at the canteen. Taking a few big gulps, he instantly drained the canteen.

“Better?” I smiled.

“You have my gratitude, Your Worship,” the serviceman smiled. The look in his eyes went clear.

“Your name?”

“Pierre Claverie, Your Worship.”

“What is going on here, Pierre?”

“The Stone Knights have delivered witches for public execution. They claim to have caught a whole coven.”

Hm... What the Vestonians called the “Stone Knights” or “Knights of the Order of the Gray Rock” were analogous to the “Scarlet Knights” of Atalia. Both kept busy exterminating true gifted. But the former had less power in their country than the latter. However, based on what I’d seen in the last few months, the popularity of that knightly order among common Vestonians was growing not by the day, but by the hour. Soon, the waves would be lapping at the very shores of Vestonia. Then an all-out hunt for true gifted would begin.

Heh... Not that that would change anything... The world here was slowly going the same way as my homeworld. Famine, disease, tax hikes, a huge wealth gap between the nobility and common people, war — the priests knew where to apply pressure in their sermons. And in order to show their unity with the people — they had no choice but to burn or, as they did in this world — quarter a couple of witches. Heh... As if they were to blame for all these troubles...

As long as the interests of the king and supreme magister coincided — the former would turn a blind eye to the latter’s activity.

“Then why is it you here and not the city guard?” I asked, nodding at the bronze chevron with the royal crest on his chest.

The pikeman winced.

“Why, we were escorting the princess to come pray in the temple of the Most Luminous Mother. And here these...”

The royal pikeman spat and angrily glared over at the people in dark gray robes installing a small wooden platform.

I looked in that direction, then over at the temple stairs where several dozen nobles were standing in flashy, expensive clothing. A young woman in the group stood out wearing a pretty lilac dress. Princess Adèle, daughter of the king’s youngest son who died in battle with pirates. She appeared to be around thirteen or fourteen.

The knights putting on their show were seemingly also blocking the princess and her retinue. She would have to be in the audience for the execution.

I’d have bet my hand that whoever made that happen did it on purpose. Essentially, it was a sneaky way of essentially forcing the princess to take part in executing the witches. Now, word would spread throughout the kingdom that the young Adèle, a pious worshipper of the Most Luminous Mother, was completely on the order’s side.

It made me wonder if the king was in on the whole affair. What if he was secretly orchestrating the whole show? Why not? It could easily be the case. Why not improve the princess’ image a bit in the people’s eyes. With a bonus boost to the loyalty of the quickly growing knightly order.

Tossing the serviceman a thaler and waving off his gratitude, I quickly went over closer to the hastily assembled platform. I had to be certain Lada was not among the witches sentenced to die. She was the first person who came to mind when the pikeman told me about the execution.

People just kept coming. I looked around. Our buggy was now parked at the far corner of the square. Jacques must have figured such a big crowd was a potential hazard and thus drove our vehicle out of the way. Bertrand and Jacques were both sitting inside the buggy as well. I nodded in satisfaction. That was what I liked about them — their can-do attitude.

Essentially, I just needed one glance at the women the priests called witches to make certain Lada was not among them. I had a hard time believing all ten of the prisoners were really witches. So I wanted to get up closer and scan them. I could always get out after.

While I pushed forward, I listened to the onlookers. People were hungry for blood. They didn’t much care for witches. I heard the occasional cry to cleanse the city of unclean forces with redoubled vigor.

“How much of our blood have they supped?!” a burly woman cried, gasping and shaking her head.

“They’re the source of all our troubles!” a scrawny man next to her rasped through crooked yellow teeth.

“They’ll get what they have coming now!” a broad-shouldered redheaded kid menaced the prisoners. “One of their kind made off with all the cattle in my village!”

I pushed further and shook my head so I wouldn’t stand out from the crowd.

Finally, I was directly in front of the platform, where I started looking around in true vision at the chained-up women all huddling together. Unnaturally crooked fingers, bloody wounds, bruises under the eyes — they had clearly been subjected to harsh torture. Scanning one woman after the next, I felt shivers all over my skin.

Unbelievable! I was wrong! They were witches! All ten of them... So, they really did uncover a whole coven. Their reservoirs were mangled and disfigured. I was surprised they were still alive. Lada had very similar wounds.

But she was not there among them.

I sighed with relief. And was about to turn around and leave, but my eye was caught by one strange factor.

I looked closer... Squeezed in the middle of the huddle was another witch being protected by the others. Based on the energy system, she was a nine- or ten-year-old girl.

My attention did not go unnoticed. One of the witches, the oldest, sharply shot up and started darting her eyes around the crowd. A moment later, we locked eyes.

Even in her state, she was able to sense my adoptive mother’s mark. I could only imagine how powerful she had been before her capture. I was also scared by the thought of who could take a witch like her prisoner. Whoever it was, they must have had at least as much power as the late Wild Duke. If the order had gifted of such power at their service, the king was going to have another quickly growing force in his kingdom to reckon with.

The witch’s swollen and bloodied lips twinged.

“Nod if you can hear me, fox,” the quiet whisper reached my ears. The old woman spoke to me in witching. Her pronunciation was mangled, but I could hear her and understand even though there were more than thirty feet between us. It also suddenly hit me that the old sorceress speaking to me was using a kind of wizardry I was unfamiliar with.

Neither I nor my adoptive mother had command of such magic.

I nodded shortly.

“They destroyed my reservoir,” I heard the magic whisper again. “But I still have a droplet of power big enough to land my final blow... I pray of you... Save my granddaughter... Any coven would take her in... They will pay you handsomely... Be ready... I trust you, fox... You bare the mark of a sister...”

The old woman broke eye contact, rolled her eyes back, and slowly went down onto the stone causeway. She must have miscalculated her powers. I could see that her reservoir had very little mana left. Her sistren immediately crouched over her.

Turning my head, I shook off the invisible haze of alien sorcery, and cursed quietly to myself.

This was exactly why I always tried to stay away from witches and, if I had dealings with them, it was only in cases of extreme necessity. Which by the way, Vadoma had taught me.

She was the one who warned me to never voluntarily have dealings with witches. Because before you knew it, you’d be obeying their every command like an obedient, loyal dog.

I of course felt bad for the little girl, but they should have considered her safety earlier. If this coven had been caught almost in its entirety, these witches must not have been especially hiding. Feeling powerful, they got lazy and careless. They thought no one would dare move against their coven. And paid the price.

But now, they wanted to rope me in... The old woman must have seen a young spellsword in the crowd and habitually decided she could bend him to her will. Too bad... She picked the wrong guy.

I was about to turn and leave the square when I heard a loud, sonorous little girl’s voice coming from the temple.

“Look, Your Holiness! There is a child among these unfortunate souls!”

It was Adèle. She was speaking to a short, thin old man in a white priest’s tunic with golden embroidery.

I didn’t know why, but I decided to stay and listen to their whole conversation. With my hearing, even through the din of the crowd, it was no challenge picking out their words.

“Your Highness,” the gray-bearded priest shook his head. “That is no child. It’s a witch! Appearances can be deceiving. This brute injured and nearly killed one of our knights.”

Based on how the princess turned her little head up, she was not accustomed to being defied. Adèle stomped her little foot, making the chestnut locks on her temples flip around amusingly.

“She’s just a girl!” he shouted out sternly. “She can’t be older than ten. Captain de Scalon! Bring the poor girl to me at once!”

“Yes, Your Highness,” a tall warrior in bone armor appeared from the side as if out of thin air and pounded his wide chest with a big, huge fist.

“Stop, captain!” the priest exclaimed. I heard notes of panic in his voice. “Your Highness! You do not fully comprehend what is happening!”

I allowed myself a sidelong smirk. The directors of this show must not have told the princess anything. Much to their misfortune... Her Highness was making a real mess of things. Her outburst made the crowd start grumbling in dismay. The already incensed public started bubbling like a pot of oil over a heavy flame. The people saw the sentenced girl as nothing but a hated witch. People came here to enjoy a show and watch the “beasts” be torn to bits, not set loose.

“I don’t care what you think!” the princess shouted sonorously. “I don’t believe that girl is a witch! Bring her to me at once!”

“What the heck is all this, my good people!” someone from the crowd exclaimed. “They want to turn these beasts loose!”

“No way!” a woman cried out from the right. “My sister got a spell put on her, but they get to go free?!”

“Get them, brothers!” a gruff voice near my ear barked, and the crowd lurched forward.

The crowd hummed and burbled. The faces of the people around me warped into scowls of hate and fury.

The jig was up... No going back now. Press on or be trampled. Drawing energy from an emerald brut out of habit, I took the first step.