Last Life

Book 4: Chapter 19

“I WILL REQUIRE YOUR ASSISTANCE,” I said to Sigurd when we left for the Copper Cauldron tavern after visiting the palace. “For the next seven days, I will need a strong opponent for training. Naturally, I will pay you separately for that service.”

“I will be glad to assist, Your Worship,” the stryker responded as calmly as ever and added as if in passing: “It’s actually seven days until the Great Trial.”

I laughed to myself. These Northlanders had a real weakness for pompous names. The Great Trial, yeah, sure. It was just a tournament where those wishing to claim Princess Astrid’s hand would face off in one-on-one duels. Well, except for the fact that most of the participants were powerful gifted people who had come from every corner of Mainland. But otherwise — it was just a tournament. Really though, what else did I expect from the ruler of little Vintervald? The very fact he’d gathered so many powerful gifted people together and kept them from squabbling before the Trial began could already be counted as an impressive achievement.

“That’s right,” I nodded. “I have to get ready to fight in the Trial.”

Sigurd turned his head toward me and came thoughtfully:

“Seven days won’t be enough.”

I chuckled.

“You flatter me.”

We went the rest of the way in silence. On the way home, I considered Princess Astrid’s offer.

To tell the truth, it wasn’t much of a surprise. The konung’s daughter seemed to be dead set on marrying Prince Louis and acted as expected. And she started off predictably — with a penetrating speech, playing on my sense of duty to my king and country, my honor as a nobleman, and other such drivel rulers are so fond of using to regale their subjects before sending them to certain death.

The fact that Astrid had such a confident and composed speech showed that she had previously managed to compel people to follow her and do her bidding.

But with me, the program glitched. And I had to give Astrid her due — she realized that quickly, and our dialogue became even more constructive. Honestly though, not enough to convince me to take part in the tournament.

I was already going to refuse. In fact, I had said no once, but Astrid was insistent. I was actually curious and partially amused to see her raising the stakes, but I had already made up my mind.

I kept listening to her only out of politeness and was planning to finish the pointless conversation as quickly as possible, take a bow and leave the palace. But then Astrid mentioned the Svartvald and everything changed.

The Svartvald or Black Forest, as they called the most dangerous and mysterious part of the Frosty Gloom, was located in the northwest of the anomaly.

Recently, I had put together all the crumbs of available information and latest news on the area. That was actually one point of the mission the Duke de Bauffremont had given me. I had been instructed to find out everything about the latest expedition sent by Konung Sharptooth to the Svartvald, which the Duke de Bauffremont had become aware of despite all its secrecy.

But he and his spy network were unable to uncover even the most minor detail. My employer wasn’t even certain if the expedition had returned home or if every person in it had disappeared in the Black Forest.

And now, thanks to the princess, I knew that the mission had been a success. Though she had mentioned it only in passing, it was just the beginning. Now I would get as much information out of her as I could.

By the way, the fact that Astrid had essentially told me a state secret must have meant that I was her last hope. At the very least, I was the last chance of solving everything with minimal pain. She clearly knew that I would appreciate her offer. Although I wasn’t gifted, I did have a Silver Wing pinned to my chest, and I knew a thing or two about shadow artifacts. So she led with her ace.

The fact that artifacts from the Svartvald was her ace I couldn’t possibly doubt. The Black Forest was the most dangerous of the known anomalies. In fact, everything harvested there was considered a highly valuable product on the magic artifact market. The Duke de Bauffremont had good reason to pay all those highly valuable magic pearls just for information.

And here I was getting the ability not only to see the artifacts but to choose one for myself. Because Princess Astrid’s treasure was more than some shop in the Crafting District. Her doting father the konung must have shared the best of his harvest with his deeply adored stryker daughter.

Meanwhile, beyond artifacts and magic potions, my part in the tournament would provide me with at minimum a favorable relationship with Princess Astrid who seemed to be quite a goal-driven young woman. I didn’t know what her father was hoping for, but she herself seemed to have far-reaching plans.

I was reminded that Jean-Louis had mentioned her desire to move to Herouxville under the wing of Prince Louis at the head of an army of thousands of northerners. She seemed to be entertained not only by the culture and art of the southern kingdom. I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that Astrid wanted to wear the Crown of Vestonia one day. In light of recent events, it was an easy explanation.

However, she was unlikely to receive a hero’s welcome in Herouxville. The Dukes de Bauffremont and de Gondy, Prince Heinrich and his Craonne friends, who had a bank even here in Fjordgrad, the western nobles and the northern ones — none of them were likely to accept a new player on the board. I assumed Princess Astrid knew what she was getting into. However, to tell the truth, it wasn’t my problem. In any case, even if she failed at every scheme she’d dreamt up — I would have a powerful ally in Vestonia. Heh… Just one little thing first — winning the Great Trial.

By the way… I had a theory to test… Out of almost fifty contenders, in my view only around twelve of the fighters could cause me serious trouble.

“What do you think?” I asked Sigurd. “Which of the tournament contenders should I be the most worried about?”

“Before I would have said all of them,” he responded, glancing at me. I saw not even a shade of derision in his eyes.

“But now what do you think?”

“After I saw Eirik Irontooth’s death, I think you should be afraid of seven of them.”

“The gods were on my side against the shapeshifter,” I said just as seriously. “I don’t think I can count on their blessing for every fight.”

“I have a difficult relationship with the gods, Your Worship,” Sigurd replied calmly and pointed a finger at the ugly scars on his face. “But that doesn’t mean they have any cause to turn against you this time.”

“You know,” I said thoughtfully. “Our conversation reminded me of my instructor, the first man to place a sword in my hand. At the time, he told me the gods were busy creatures, and that people shouldn’t distract them with minor issues like their prayers and summonings. Because they had given us great artifacts we could use to solve our own problems.”

“I assume one of those artifacts was the sword?” Sigurd asked and set his wide hand on the grip of his blade.

“Yes, it was weapons,” I nodded and added thoughtfully: “Another thing my instructor said was that he wasn’t totally certain if it was gods that taught humans to kill each other or if it was demons…”

I was suddenly overcome by memories of Mamoru Yamada, who had left me so suddenly. A few years after he disappeared, when I tried to track him down, I couldn’t find even the slightest trace. It was like he dissolved into thin air. In one way or another, Vadoma was right. Mamoru Yamada’s departure had taken us out of harm’s way, and he’d probably just adopted another persona, settling down somewhere on the other side of the planet. I suddenly found myself dwelling on the whims of fate. My instructor probably couldn’t have imagined that the knowledge he imparted to me would end up being used in another world.

I shook my head slightly, driving off the unwelcome memories. Sigurd riding next to me stayed respectfully silent.

“You said there are seven I should be worried about,” I broke the silence. “Who did you mean by that? Probably Konung Harold’s son Ivar the Raven? After Lord Gray’s departure, everyone is certain that he will win the tournament.”

“He’s one,” Sigurd replied. “He’s a powerful ulfhednar, but he lacks experience. He’s also short tempered like all shapeshifters, which is his weakness.”

“In other words, between him and the other six, you wouldn’t bet on Ivar the Raven?”

“Right,” Sigurd nodded. “I’d more likely bet on Baron Pierce Butler from the Foggy Isles. He’s a very powerful medius, and also an experienced and formidable dueler. One of the top Steel-Guild trained strykers. That’s why Duke Arcedekne chose him specifically.”

I nodded in silence. I remembered that baron. His energy system also seemed well developed to me. But Sigurd didn’t see what I saw. Butler’s left shoulder was completely enveloped by a coal black spot. He had probably not warned his sponsor about the poorly healing injury.

I was not about to tell Sigurd that he most likely would have lost his silver if he’d bet on the islander. But in any case, I would have to think up some way to warn him if Butler and the Raven were chosen by lot to fight.

“That’s two,” I said. “Who else?”

“Olaf Birdcatcher,” Sigurd replied. “The younger son of the chief of Clan Snowhair. A powerful gifted man. They say he inherited his power from his grandfather, who was able to draw power from the forest spirits of the north.”

I said nothing back. I knew about him already. A young and very fit man with a catlike gait and the steadfast gaze of a predator. I figured him for the same age as Max. If not for how messed up his underdeveloped energy system was, I would have figured Olaf Birdcatcher for the favorite in the tournament. Actually, his Aura reminded me of Lucas’.

“Also Minna the Flame,” Sigurd continued naming my future opponents. “A mage raised and trained by the Sun Guild of strykers. As far as I know, she’s still a medius. She currently serves the Duke of Carinthia, who is hoping to use her to win himself a bride. Beyond the fact that Minna is an excellent mage, she is also a highly skilled warrior. Fear her poleax.”

In fact, she was a medius. I had seen her just once at the feast, which was more like a drinking binge. A fiery redheaded mountain of a woman with a round red face marred by a long ugly scar and hands as big as shovels. She gulped down booze just as heartily as the northerners and could rip the heads off half the competitors with her bare hands.

“And the three strykers, too,” Sigurd said. “Two mediuses from Astland. And number three we know well.”

“Count Étienne de Mornay,” I nodded. “I’m sure he’ll be happy to learn we’re taking part.”

Sigurd just snorted back.

That was how we made it to the Copper Cauldron, discussing each contender. I had to admit, Sigurd was quite well informed on the matter. His rundown of almost every person competing in the tournament was very helpful.

When we made it to the tavern, I was in for a surprise — Jacques and Lucas were back.

* * *

“Now tell me,” I encouraged Jacques when the two of us were left alone in my room after the celebratory dinner set for us by the owner of the Copper Cauldron on the occasion of his war buddies’ return.

“Leif was right,” Jacques nodded. “Sergeant Tom Davis and his boys were accompanied by Astlandic merchants. We had to drag our hides after them to western Northland. But it all went very well. They are willing to make a deal with you. They accept the conditions. They will come with a merchant to Fjordgrad any day now. They will sign a contract and go straight to you.”

“How many are there?” I asked.

“Twelve fighters,” Jacques replied.

“Any gifted among them?”

“Nope, but you can’t take their experience away from them. A few of them were fighting by my side in the kinds of battles I’d rather not think about. They’re solid.” Jacques considered it for a bit and added: “Although, who knows…? I never saw the Lucas thing coming, and look how that turned out… Just take a look at them.”

“Alright,” I nodded. “Did you tell Lucas anything?”

“Not a word, Your Worship,” Jacques shook his head.

“Good,” I nodded. “There will come a time when I will tell him everything and even help him cultivate his gift.”

Jacques nodded and frowned slightly.

“Out with it,” I encouraged him. “I see you’ve brought some news. What’s on your mind?”

“There’s something odd going on,” Jacques said. “A hidden scheme of some kind. I first thought my sixth sense was failing me in my old age. I started seeing everything as a trick. But no… Tom Davis thinks the same. There have been a lot of oddballs on the roads. And they aren’t people from nearby villages and farming settlements rushing to the start of the tournament. They bring their whole families in their finest clothing, to see and be seen. I have a good eye for this stuff — there are warriors coming to Fjordgrad. And I don’t know yet who they belong to.”

“You’re right,” I said. “You aren’t the only one who noticed. So just in case, be ready and warn our guys. I figure as long as the ceasefire holds, it will be relatively quiet. But who can guarantee it will continue after the tournament victor is announced?”

“I understand, Your Worship,” Jacques said and added hurriedly: “But that isn’t all the news I wanted to tell you.”

“Out with it.”

“On the way back, we stopped for the night in an inn,” Jacques started. “One day’s travel from Fjordgrad…”

He rubbed his chin and continued:

“Well, there I met an old friend. The one you bought the boys from.”

“Arvid Ulsson?” I clarified. “So, his father didn’t kill him for that? Did he recognize you?”

“Yes,” Jacques replied. “At first he was very mad. Kicked up a bit of a fuss.”

After saying that, Jacques rubbed the knuckles of his fists. I just laughed.

“Then I offered him a drink. He agreed. And from there, it all went smooth as butter. Mug after mug, I didn’t even need magic potions to get Arvid talking.”

“His father still buying slaves for the priests?” I asked.

“That’s right,” Jacques replied. “Despite his son’s slip-up, he’s even expanded his business.”

“So, I assume Konung Sharptooth’s tax collectors are in on it.”

“You can say that again!” Jacques laughed. “A little greased palm here, a little silver dropped there, and every path opened for them. And meanwhile, everyone is happy, and no one is talking.”

Jacques fell silent for a moment and gave a clever smile.

“But that isn’t the biggest part. That night, Lucas decided to look into what else the gentlemen merchants were transporting. As I said before, he was the best scout in our group. He did especially well in the forest. And now I see why. Basically, in the wagon the priest was travelling in, there were another few curious trunks. When Lucas looked into the wagon window, one of them was open. Lucas said he’d never seen so many bruts in his life.”

Jacques and I both smiled.

“Keep going,” I nodded.

“I found out where they were bringing slaves. One day’s travel from the inn, there is a large manor which belongs to one of the people who are in on the smuggling scheme. Arvid’s father is there to let the slaves gather a bit of strength, then they’re being sent onward to Konung Harold’s lands. In Ulsson’s words, the manor is guarded by five frost knights and another few regular soldiers.”

“Wait,” I stopped Jacques and called loudly: “Bertrand!”

A few moments later, the door to my room opened and my valet appeared in the frame.

“Call Sigurd.”

Bertrand nodded and, a minute later, returned with the stryker who was on night guard duty outside.

Sending Bertrand away, I pointed Sigurd to a chair and said:

“Sit down and listen. I’m sure you’ll want to hear this.”

Jacques repeated his tale. Sigurd didn’t blink once the whole time. For a moment, I thought I saw a glimmer of hate in his eyes.

When Jacques was done, I said to Sigurd:

“I know that I hired you and Aelira first and foremost as bodyguards. And what I’m about to suggest isn’t entirely legal…”

Sigurd raised a hand to stop me.

“Your Worship, allow me to save you some time. If you want to suggest my wife and I rob Frost Temple priests, you can count on us completely.”