Last Life

Book 3: Interlude 1

Herouxville

A quarter in the Old Capital of Vestonia

AT THE END OF AUTUMN, Susanna Marino got yet another scroll containing a list of names of interest to a department of the Royal Accounts Chamber.

As far as common Vestonians were concerned, the Royal Accounts Chamber was just another institution where, as the name suggested, hundreds of accounting clerks kept busy running calculations only they could understand. According to popular legend, the Accounts Chamber was founded by the grandfather of the current king after his advisors were unable to provide him with specific figures on the number of dead from a plague in the northern provinces. Ever since then, the chamber had concerned itself with keeping data on every imaginable aspect of society.

It was a quiet, dull institution composed of dozens of departments, each with its own sphere of responsibility. Under the auspices of that inconspicuous and utterly uninteresting government body, a small department was formed to tally the number of carts, carriages and other forms of transportation entering the capital.

At least that was on paper. In reality, these “bean counters” carried out special secret missions. Simply put, they were essentially competitors to the secret chancery. However, the chancery didn’t have the foggiest notion that anyone else was engaged in official secret investigations.

The Department of Carts and Wagons had been formed relatively recently. Approximately twenty years ago. And it was headed by chief bean counter Henry Purée, who was responsible for hiring and training senior and junior bean counters. And only Purée knew for certain who his secret department was answered to.

Susanna Marino had fled Atalia to avoid pursuit by the Scarlet Knights to Vestonia. Initially, she travelled all around seeking to put her skills to good use. Until one fine day, her name landed on the rolls of the Department of Carts and Wagons.

After finding herself in an ingenious bean counter trap, Susanna Marino was ready to say goodbye to this world. But she got lucky. Its leader found an appreciation for her particular abilities and offered her a job. And now, Susanna worked as a junior bean counter in the smallest, most inconspicuous department of the Royal Accounts Chamber.

Over her several years of service, Susanna Marino saw so much she started thinking nothing could surprise her anymore. But then, at the end of autumn, the head bean counter managed to do just that. She got another scroll, which contained just one name Chevalier Maximillian Renard.

The short missive said the man by the name Chevalier Renard was about to arrive in the capital, and Susanna was to focus on that singular asset and set aside all her running affairs.

That “about to” stretched on for a couple months of Susanna regularly checking the city guard’s lists of incoming and outgoing travelers. And in that time, her boss seemed to forget she existed. No new tasks, just one single name. As soon as Chevalier Renard made it to the capital, Susanna was supposed to shadow him and report on all her asset’s movements to her superior.

Bit by bit, Susanna was able to gather some information about Renard through her channels. A legitimized bastard of Count Ferdinand de Gramont, a traitor who had been executed nearly a year prior. He was also grandson of Pascal Legrand, head of one of the largest trading houses.

At first glance, he was nothing special. Just another spoiled aristocrat sent on a temporary exile to the west. But that was only at first glance. They’d devoted a whole scroll to him alone, so he could not have been such small potatoes.

Renard finally showed up in the capital a few months later. Susanna was at the gates on the day to catch a glimpse of the mysterious chevalier with her own eyes.

At first glance, he was exactly what she was expecting. An aristocrat of twenty years with a fresh, enthusiastic face returning from exile to a life of capital city excess.

Honestly though, the longer Susanna observed the chevalier, the more she became convinced it was all an act. Sometimes, Renard’s true face slipped through the mask. He reminded Susanna of an animal. Something very familiar, yet very dangerous.

The strange happenings began within one hour of Renard’s arrival in Herouxville. For some reason, he rented a room in an inn in the Old Capital, even though her intel suggested that he was supposed to proceed directly to his uncle’s manor house.

And things quickly went from bad to worse. Leaving his three servants to unload his coach, Renard and another servant visited the Upper Quarter, location of the capital-city elite’s oldest manor houses.

There, next to the gates of a chateau, Susanna hid in the bushes to watch a very curious scene. Young Renard easily and casually put his cousin Viscount François de Gramont in his place, and he was part of Prince Louis’ retinue.

The viscount was older than his bastard cousin by a few years. Beyond that, he was lower in rank. And yet, none of those advantages were obvious. Renard behaved like he was his cousin’s uncle who came to town to teach his misbehaving nephew a lesson.

After talking to the viscount, Renard and his servant tried to go back, but their path was blocked by three riders, who Susanna immediately recognized. They were the youngest son of Damien Craonne, head of the Craonne banking empire; the eldest son and heir to the Duke de Hangest, Marshal of Vestonia; and André de Châtillon, one of Herouxville’s top swordsmen and apple of Prince Heinrich’s eye.

From there, it was not hard to predict what happened next. Or so she thought. Susanna had heard many stories about the Viscount de Châtillon dispatching opponents. And now, it was leading to a duel.

She had no authorization to intervene so Susanna, hiding behind a wide tree trunk, looked on at what she assumed were the last seconds of her “charge’s” life.

After a brief verbal exchange, the aristocrats drew their blades and... And then Susanna became aware of why she was put on this case. As a descendant of the aghuane, she could sense emanations of a very unusual power she had never sensed before. When her half-blood great grandmother found out the gift of their sylvan forebearers had awoken in her, she trained her how to recognize power flows. And now, she was perceiving something of a different nature.

Renard’s gift, and Susanna had no doubts he was the source of the uncanny magic, didn’t feel all that powerful yet. But that did not stop the strange chevalier from laying out Viscount Châtillon in a single blow while his friends looked on in astonishment.

No, Renard did not kill his opponent. He just placed the tip of his sword to the man’s forehead. And he did it with such speed that Prince Heinrich’s champion wasn’t even able to get off a proper lunge.

Then, something happened Susanna was not expecting — Renard sensed her. Hopping into the saddle of his horse, he suddenly turned and looked straight at Susanna’s hiding spot. She got lucky — Renard got distracted by de Châtillon’s companions. The feeling someone was watching her disappeared.

The strange chevalier had left a while ago, but Susanna stayed hidden for a bit longer. She’d have to stop tracking him. She couldn’t shadow Renard anymore — he had sensed her. But that wasn’t a big deal. Another bean counter could take over the chevalier’s case.

But she needed to tell her boss what happened at once...

* * *

Herouxville

A manor house on the outskirts of the New Capital

“Out with it,” came an authoritative harsh voice from the darkness.

“He is in the capital, Your Grace,” a creaky somewhat cold-stricken voice replied. “He paid for a week in a few rooms in an inn.”

“Hm... Odd... Why not go directly to the de Gramont manor?”

“I haven’t a clue, Your Grace,” the raspy voice replied. “But he paid a visit to his old home. A son of Heinrich de Gramont is living there now.”

“Thinks he can play independent?” the voice from the darkness asked drily.

“Seems like it,” the raspy voice agreed, adding: “There’s one more thing...”

“Out with it.”

“It seems the bean counters have taken an interest in him.”

“Well, well!” the voice in the darkness said in surprise and added with malice: “That vile hunchback is sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong again. What else...?”

“He fought a duel,” the rasper said.

“What?!” His Grace exclaimed, puzzled. “He just entered the city gates and straight away he’s in a duel? Still... Who did he fight?”

“André de Châtillon.”

“What?! And he’s still alive?”

“And kicking, Your Grace,” the rasper snorted. “The viscount had a stroke of bad luck. Renard hit his forehead with the tip of his sword. De Châtillon didn’t even manage to get a single move off.”

“The bastard is that fast and proficient?” the voice in the darkness asked, now calmer.

“Yes, Your Grace,” the raspy voice replied. “Everything we were told about him is true. The Baronet de Rohan didn’t stand a chance.”

“Alright...” His Grace sighed. “Anything else?”

“I spotted a Silver Wing of Strix on Renard’s chest.”

“Hm... Now that is bad... Now someone in the palace knows about him. And the king has an attraction to such things.”

“André de Châtillon was with Damian Craonne’s son as well as a son of the Duke de Hangest. Renard knocked him down in a single blow right in front of them.”

“Damnation!” the voice in the darkness growled. “Now them, too! The kid is getting popular. And he’s only been in the capital for a matter of hours.”

“Your Grace, would you like me to take care of it?” the rasping man asked.

“No,” the voice in the darkness replied. “Not yet. Tread lightly... Continue following him and keep me informed.”

“Yes sir, Your Grace.”

When the front door closed and the footsteps faded into the stairwell, His Grace broke the silence:

“Apparently, everything you reported was true. That bastard is clearly not who he claims.”

“Your Grace,” a mewing voice from the darkness replied. “I watched him be fed to a flow with my own eyes. That spellsword somehow managed to survive the Shadow. And all without a suit of magic armor.”

“Keep an eye on him. He probably brought back a lot of interesting goodies from the Shadow.”