Last Life

Book 4: Chapter 9

IT HAD BEEN TWO DAYS since my invitation to the grand hunt, and we still had yet to properly get started. Meanwhile, in the time I’d spent in this world, particularly in the company of local nobles, I had ceased to be surprised by that. Kings could set a departure date, then move it, or cancel it all together if they saw fit — that was what it meant to be king.

As an aside, all the circumstances delaying our departure such as, for instance, the konung’s favorite mare falling ill or the arrival of an old friend of His Majesty which urgently required a mountainous feast — just showed me that the northern ruler was no different from his southern royal peers.

I was totally fine with it. I made good use of the time.

Before falling asleep, I absorbed another pearl from the batch the Duke de Bauffremont gave me, significantly increasing the size of my reservoir.

Now, having a sufficient reserve of personal energy, I could put more attention into the energy nodes and flows, which could only be tuned using mana from a personal reservoir. Bruts could only do so much. For instance, reinforcing or accelerating processes.

Overall, before sunup that morning I slipped out of the tavern and made for the seacoast. I had earlier found there a small, secluded bay where I could train in peace and test my new abilities.

I stood on a wide, flat ledge and stared into the distance. The humid air filled my lungs and icy wind enshrouded my body.

The waves of the northern sea — incarnations of wild nature, cold, and unencumbered elements — heaved up toward the heavens like ancient gray titans carrying the weight of eternity on their shoulders. Their manes, replete with foam and ice crystals, burst into thousands of sparkles like diamond dust born out of a clash between primordial forces.

I stared captivated at the sea, at the titan monster, and grew accustomed to its rhythm, trying to comprehend its mysterious nature and inner strength. The waves rose and fell like the breathing of the very planet, and I could sense their power through the vibrations in the black cliff beneath my feet.

Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath and surrendered to the elements…

I slowly started performing the Dragon Wings kata, feeling my movements grow more confident and rhythmic with every gust of wind.

My breathing and movements synchronized, and I stopped noticing the icy chill seeping into my clothing. The mana circulating in my channels warmed my body, becoming light and weightless all at the same time.

Here, at one with the elements, I felt free and full of energy. It felt like the rabid bursts of the northern wind were at my command, and my heart beat in time with its ceaseless motion.

My blades, like two dragon wings, easily and smoothly sliced through the air as if they were mere extensions of my arms. They reflected the morning light coming from the rising sun, and their dark blades seemed to flicker with a huge variety of shades of silver and blue.

With every motion, I sensed the magic energy pulsating within them. I knew the common steel was already ruined, but I didn’t care. I wasn’t thinking about that then — the war dance had swallowed me up entirely.

A few moments later, it was all over. The world around me rushed back into existence. It was as if I returned from another dimension. There was a satisfied smile plastered on my face — at this pace, I would get my energy body back to its old form very soon. And not just that — I would outdo my former self’s development.

Glancing at the blades, their surfaces covered in little cracks, I shook my head. Oh well, soon Albrecht Lothar would finish my order, and everything would be different. Lucas already looked down on me for having to replace my weapons all the time.

Going over to the edge of the cliff, I cast the now useless metal into the water, then turned toward the cliff ledge.

“You may go, I am finished,” I said.

My magic scanner revealed that, for the last few minutes of the kata, I had gained an unbidden viewer. They didn’t interrupt my training because I recognized the energy system. It was a woman I’d met before…

Slowly and animalistically, the lutine stepped out from behind a cliff. She gave a sly smile, staring at me with her green cat eyes. Little animal fangs peeked down past her lips.

“You sure look different, fox pup,” she mewed.

Her white hair streamed slowly down her back and glimmered in the northern sun. On her head, two cat ears stuck out from beneath her hair.

She was dressed in a warm waterproof shawl lined with mink fur. A fluffy-tipped white tail, which seemed to have a mind of its own, stuck out from beneath it, swerving and moving in time with her mood.

“You’re growing before my very eyes,” she mewed and, slightly lifting her nose, sniffed. “You’ve learned to conceal your essence well. There’s no telling you apart from a common person, now.”

I chuckled internally. After many months of cultivation, it would no longer be so easy to recognize my essence. If I were to meet a person now, unlike a year ago, they’d never be able to tell I was gifted.

“After what I just saw,” Tikka continued mockingly. “I’m certain you could have handled that count even without your pocket stryker. By the way, very clever move hiring a dusksworn, especially one as powerful as him. My master will be satisfied.”

Hm… That had me interested. What master was she referring to? It couldn’t be the Duke de Bauffremont. When Vadoma told me about lutines, she had given me a clear indication that these unusual shapeshifters served only mages.

When I thought Tikka was attached to the Wild Duke, everything made sense. But when I saw her in the de Bauffremont household, I immediately recalled all my adoptive mother’s tales. The lutine wouldn’t obey any human without the gift. Between mage and lutine there existed a strong bond. The master shared a fragment of their personal power with the cat woman. If the mage died, his lutine would also come to fade in time.

I of course may have been wrong. But my sixth sense was telling me that it wasn’t a theory to discount. These may have been different worlds, but I was already convinced they had a lot in common.

“And here I was wondering when you’d show your face,” I snorted and started getting dressed.

“His Grace needs results,” the lutine replied. “He doesn’t like to be kept waiting. How are things going?”

“Nice try,” I chuckled. “Or did you really think I was going to explain myself to you?”

“His Grace…” Tikka started.

“…can wait,” I interrupted.

“I’ll tell him that,” she purred back mockingly.

“Great,” I nodded and stared into her eyes. “Tell your master just that.”

I put special emphasis on the word “master.” Which made the lutine give a look of slight confusion. But a moment later, she regained her usual composure. She must have figured it was all in her head.

Picking up my things, I walked past Tikka without a word. When I reached the path, which wound like a thin snake between the stones toward the capital city port, I heard a mocking voice from behind me:

“Remember, fox pup, time is ticking…”

* * *

After breakfast, when Bertrand, who was very eager to run off and perform his duties, had finished helping me get dressed, a knock came at the room door.

“Come in!” I said loudly, beating my valet to the punch as he headed to answer.

“Your Worship,” Bertrand came with slight reproach in his voice, but so quietly nobody else could hear. “Etiquette dictates…”

After Bertrand found out I had been brought into Prince Louis’ circle, he seemed to have doubled his efforts to hone my flawless aristocrat act. He even tried, following the latest trends in Vestonian fashion, to adorn my outfit with various bands and lacy pendants. Honestly though, he didn’t get very far. But he never gave up, either.

And now, Bertrand was here to teach me another lesson on etiquette in the upper nobility, which every noble was required to follow. But I interrupted.

“It’s Sigurd,” I replied just as quietly.

“Your Worship, it doesn’t matter who is out there,” Bertrand objected firmly. “All that matters is who is in this room now. Upper noble etiquette is first and foremost a way of life for every noble person. Even when alone, aristocrats remain aristocrats.”

Meanwhile, the door flew open, saving me from having to hear the remainder of the lecture. Though to tell the truth, I had asked Bertrand to teach me such things. I had fallen into amnesia, so I ordered him to make sure I did everything correctly. And thus, he corrected me when I made mistakes.

Sigurd stood in the doorframe. There was also someone behind him.

“You may go,” I nodded at Bertrand, to which he bowed and left the room.

Sigurd then, on the contrary, walked inside and said with a half turn.

“Your Worship, allow me to introduce my wife, Aelira Hansen.”

The white-haired beauty took a few steps forward and stopped short. I found myself admiring the northern woman.

Aelira seemed to be the very embodiment of the strength and indomitable spirit of this northern land. Her short but strong and fit body concealed a savage energy gifted to her by the northern gods.

Her pure white hair, all gathered into a ponytail fell freely over her strong shoulders. Her face was sunburnt and slightly windswept. Her light blue eyes reflected an iron will and determination as well as surprise, curiosity and, seemingly, hope.

Aelira’s outfit was simple and practical. She was dressed in a fur skirt and pants made of thick cloth which, despite their loose cut, emphasized the litheness of her figure. Aelira also wore large boots on her feet, while her belt held a long dagger in a basic scabbard.

My bodyguard, who had told me their story very quickly, informed me that she was essentially a savage raised in the mountains of the far north. And so, if I hired her, communication would be no simple task.

Beyond that, my status obliged me to make sure that the people around me behaved with honor. But that was manageable. I would set Bertrand on her.

Aelira, in Sigurd’s words, was overly straightforward. And that, let me say, made perfect sense. She didn’t know Vestonian traditions, prejudices, or behavior norms. Still, on the other hand, as the daughter of a chief, she belonged to the upper crust of her homeland. And no matter that her homeland was an icy country on the edge of the world with practically no human population.

“I know what you’ve done for Sigurd and me,” Aelira came with a firm voice, proudly thrusting her chin up and not waiting for me to say anything.

I chuckled internally. Were Bertrand there right then, he’d have been in cultural shock from this savage’s manners.

“Did Sigurd tell you what I said?” I asked.

“Yes,” she responded shortly.

“And what have you decided?”

“I will follow my husband,” she came firmly. “And I am prepared to serve you. But he said you don’t need me for dueling.”

“That’s right,” I nodded. “Sigurd is for dueling. You’ll do what your husband told me you do best: hunting and tracking prey. You’ll be my extra set of eyes and ears. Both here in the north, and back in my homeland when we return.”

“By the way,” I added. “Soon, we’ll be headed for one of the konung’s northern fiefdoms. I am to accompany my prince on the hunt, which will be arranged by Bjørn Sharptooth.”

Aelira just nodded in silence. Sigurd then asked:

“Where exactly are we going?”

“The konung was told that a large wolf pack has been raiding the village of some free bonds in his fiefdoms… Princess Astrid I believe mentioned its name — Varglund…”

Hearing that made Aelira shiver. She and Sigurd traded glances.

“What happened?” I asked.

“Nothing yet,” Sigurd muttered thoughtfully and stroked his beard.

“Then when has you on guard?”

“Don’t get me wrong, Your Worship,” Sigurd started. “The thing is that Varglund, or Wolf Glade in your language, once belonged to a powerful clan of ulfhednar. Their greatest warriors were able to take the form of their forefather — a brown wolf. Bjørn Sharptooth drove them out many years ago and took their Valley.”

“You think the coming of that pack is somehow connected to the clan of exiled shapeshifters?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” the stryker shook his head slowly and added: “But we can be certain that the young chief of clan Brownwolf is currently in Fjordgrad. He arrived together with Konung Harold.”

“And he also brought werewolves,” Aelira added grimly.

“Which is strange enough on its own,” Sigurd supported. “The northern clans allowed exiles to pass through their lands, and with them were members of a southern clan. Aelira sniffed them out a few days ago.”

I snorted. What if…? Walking over to a chest in the corner of the room, I took from it a small satchel. Then I took out the wolf amulet which once hung around the neck of one of the assassins that attacked me on the road near the Frontier.

“Look at this,” I said and threw Sigurd the wolf claw.

Aelira snatched the amulet from her husband’s hands and raised it to her nose. Drawing in air, she closed her eyes and, a moment later, stared at me point blank:

“It is them.”

“Oh well,” I said, rubbing my chin thoughtfully. “It had to happen sooner or later.”

* * *

The konung and his entire numerous retinue were gathered in the internal courtyard of the palace next to the stables, getting ready to set out on the great hunt. It felt like the air was vibrating with all the voices talking loudly at this early hour.

Bjørn Sharptooth, the mighty and proud ruler, was dressed in a warm, elegant garment made of expensive fabric adorned with the symbols of his clan.

His hair fell over broad shoulders and his face, covered with blue tattoos, glowed with a happy smile. He was seated atop a powerful white mare, towering over all the riders. From such heights, he could easily see everyone around.

Surrounding him were groups of foreign nobles headed by Prince Louis dressed in vibrant and lavish outfits with colored plumage and opulent patterns. They were speaking to one another and smiling, discussing their future hunting feats, and expressing hope for good luck.

The internal courtyard was filled with horses of all breeds and colors, from heavy, wooly “northerns,” to the quick and gracious “southerns.” They shook their heads nervously and stamped their hooves, sensing the atmosphere of anticipation and excitement.

The carts, loaded with supplies and hunting ammunition, were ready and awaiting their turn. The servants, watched over by the stable servants and huntsmen, hurriedly finished loading everything necessary for a successful hunt, checking their reserves for arrows, spears, and nets.

The royal hunting pack, consisting of several dozen large wolfhounds, were waiting impatiently for things to begin. They howled, whimpered, and barked, making the atmosphere feel tenser. The giant beasts’ powerful bodies expressed an unhesitating strength and readiness for action.

When everything was ready, the konung raised a hand, calling for silence. The crowd stopped, waiting for his word. Even the dogs stopped whimpering and barking, sensing the power of their master. With dignity and confidence in his voice, the konung announced the start of the hunt. Addressing everyone there with a send-off speech, he emphasized the importance of working together cohesively to catch the dangerous wolf pack. I was getting the impression we were headed not out on a hunt but embarking on some grand endeavor.

After he finished speaking, everyone again livened up, and the column of hunters, dogs, and horses started slowly moving toward the main gates of Fjordgrad.

Sigurd, Aelira and I also started forward, trying not to lag behind the group of riders headed by Prince Louis and Princess Astrid riding side by side.

I turned. Somewhere behind me among the remaining carts was our wagon, driven by Gunnar and Bertrand. Unfortunately, Jacques and Lucas were not able to join us. They were still out of town carrying out my orders.

Looking over the column of carts and wagons, I felt a heavy, imposing gaze directed at me. Turning my head suddenly, I spotted a crowd of gawkers staring at their konung’s departure. I immediately lost the feeling I was being watched.

I glanced at Aelira, whose nose flared predatorily.

“They’re here,” she said with lips alone.

I nodded. Good — time to settle the score.