Last Life

Book 5: Chapter 10

Herouxville. New Capital

The Duchess du Bellay’s Palace (continued)

JEANNE RAN HER FINGERTIPS along the black claw on the table, the one that Heinrich seemingly hadn’t even thought to take with him. As she touched it, she felt a convulsive fear course through her. A surging, primordial fear. For just a moment, her thoughts were transported far away, to that severe region of fierce cold, eternal ice, and bloodthirsty monsters. Here, in Herouxville, all that had felt like half-forgotten myth and misremembered legends. Judging by the size of the claw, the bear must have been absolutely massive.

She looked over at Max, who was standing a few steps away from her. Somehow, he had killed this beast. He was basically still a kid. How in the world was it possible? The whole capital was talking about his victory. And here was a claw, lying on the table in front of her in confirmation... But Jeanne still didn’t believe her own eyes. She could sense that something didn’t add up. Something was missing from the story. A very important detail of some kind... But what? Who are you, Max Renard? How did you manage to do what the most powerful combat mages couldn’t?

But the question she asked was a different one.

“You’re more rash and foolish than I thought,” she said. “You knew what was waiting for you in that tournament. Why did you decide to die so young?”

“To be fair, I should point out that nobody knew there would be a shadow beast in the final battle,” said Max. “It was a surprise for everyone when it appeared.”

“So Sharptooth was playing his own game all the while,” Jeanne nodded understanding. “He decided to hedge his bets.”

“Maybe,” Max shrugged as a shadow flitted across his face.

Jeanne’s eyes narrowed slightly. The kid had thought of something. He couldn’t possibly be planning to get revenge on the konung, could he?

“Either way, it doesn’t matter for us anymore,” Jeanne concluded. “Our house now supports Prince Philippe. Louis has no chance, even after his marriage to the konung’s daughter. Sharptooth’s embroiled in a civil war. He won’t be able to turn his gaze to Vestonia for quite some time.”

“If you knew Princess Astrid as well as I do, you might not say that,” Max smiled. “Besides, I have every reason to think that Bjorn Sharptooth will restore order in Northland much sooner than anyone expects.”

“That’s what you think, is it?” Jeanne sounded skeptical. “You’re too young and inexperienced. The konung will spend his whole life trying to take control of the north. He doesn’t have the unanimous support of the northerners, and most importantly, Vintervald doesn’t have the resources to solve a problem like this. Simply put, Sharptooth doesn’t have the money.”

Jeanne glanced at Max, who suddenly had a cryptic smile on his face.

“Wait...” She frowned. “Did I miss something?”

“Money,” she said. “Sharptooth’s treasury isn’t as empty as everybody thinks. And soon, it’s going to double, and keep growing after that.”

“How?” Jeanne asked; she was worried.

“What have you heard about the Svartvald?” Max asked.

“That it’s one of the most dangerous places on the continent, and that even the most powerful combat mages don’t dare enter it.”

“But someone has dared,” said Max. “Bjorn Sharptooth equipped an expedition of his finest warriors and hired some of the most powerful gifted that the Blades of Dusk have to offer.”

“So they brought something valuable out of the Shadow?” Jeanne felt her heartbeat quicken.

She knew that Max was speaking about things known only to the king and his closest advisors. And that meant that the rumors about Princess Astrid’s special treatment of Max weren’t just rumors after all. Prince Louis’ bride-to-be had brought Renard into her inner circle and entrusted him with her father’s secrets.

Also, Jeanne suddenly realized that Renard wasn’t just saying all this to boast, or trying to impress his aunt and highlight his importance and indispensability. This was different from Gabriel and Francois’s tales of making important connections with foreign diplomats and nobility. He wasn’t getting carried away; he wasn’t making a big deal of his accomplishments, or strutting around with his chest puffed out. Max was obviously pursuing some specific, concrete goal. And most importantly, he had waited to share this important information with her and her alone. It seemed that he didn’t intend to tell Heinrich anything.

“Well, to bring something out, they’d have to go in in the first place,” chuckled Max. “The unit of strykers didn’t even cross the Barrier. When they got close to the Svartvald, they discovered that the whole area on the frontier was different.”

“An ebb...” Jeanne concluded.

“An ebb,” Max confirmed, before adding: “But not a normal one. After about thirty years, the Shadow returned to its previous boundaries and freed up a patch of land about the size of a large county.”

“Oh, Most Luminous Mother!” Jeanne gasped as she felt a flash of heat erupt in her body. She seemed to forget the pain in her arm. She started pacing back and forth quickly through the hall, muttering rapidly to herself under her breath: “This will change everything! I can’t even imagine how much wealth is hidden in that little “patch” of land... If Sharptooth... No... Not “if” — “when” Sharptooth takes full control of the north, then... And Princess Astrid.... Prince Louis... This is...”

She suddenly froze as something dawned on her. Then she turned sharply around and looked at Max’s grinning face through completely different eyes. A powerful new government was forming in the north, led by Prince Louis’ future father-in-law. And that marriage was made possible entirely thanks to this boy... Actually, no. He wasn’t a boy anymore. This man was a fearsome, focused warrior. Oh, Most Luminous Mother, thought Jeanne! Why did you have to make him a bastard?!

“In the eyes of the konung and his daughter, we’ve committed a big mistake,” said Jeanne through gritted teeth. “Our family left His Highness Prince Louis precisely when he most needed our support.”

“It’s not quite that simple,” said Max.

Jeanne turned to shoot him a quizzical look.

“What do you mean?”

“Sometimes people’s actions and motives can be interpreted in various ways. Everything depends on how the facts are presented to the interested parties in society at large.”

Jeanne raised her head a little bit and stared inquiringly at her nephew’s face. She was beginning to understand where he was going with this, but she wanted to hear it from him first.

“And how might our actions be interpreted differently?”

“For example,” said Max with a cunning smile as he looked firmly back into Jeanne’s eyes. “Speaking purely hypothetically, of course... In this particular situation, Heinrich de Gramont committed a big mistake.”

The look in his eyes made her tense; in a demanding tone, she said:

“Continue.”

“You, as a faithful subject of our ruler Carl III who understood the full complexity of the developing situation, sent a message separately from that of the head of the de Gramont household, in which you instructed your young nephew to complete the assignment and remain by His Highness Prince Louis’ side. And if the gods so willed, to defend his interests to the last drop of your blood. But as I said, of course, this is all purely hypothetical.”

“What if it weren’t?” Jeanne was studying her nephew’s emotions intently. “What if that’s EXACTLY what happened?”

“Then you personally, my dear aunt, would stand to acquire an extremely powerful ally in the royal family of Vintervald. But only provided — “

“Provided my nephew corroborates all the above,” Jeanne finished his sentence for him, and then immediately added: “Then we’re left with the main question.”

“What question is that, Madame?”

“Why would I place myself in opposition to Heinrich? Why would I act against the family? Is such a course of action justifiable?”

“Those are different questions,” Max shook his head. “Yes, my uncle is the head of the family. But he isn’t the whole family. And as for justifiability... You acted against my father when he committed a mistake that could’ve brought down the entire family line.”

Jeanne jumped slightly and dug her fingers into the back of her chair.

“So this is all for revenge? This is how you want to get even with me and Heinrich?”

“Please, my dear aunt,” said Max; he sounded completely sincere. For a moment, Jeanne actually believed him. It would have been hard for her to admit it, but at the time, she really wanted to believe what he was saying. “My father acted rashly. He made a fatal mistake. And what’s more, it was a stupid mistake. Did he and his co-conspirators really think that Carl III would sit idly by? My father underestimated his opponent, and he paid the price for it. Your part in his downfall was merely the loyalty required from a subject toward their king. I only feel bad for my brothers. They were merely following their father.”

“We were promised that they’d be spared...” Jeanne said in a barely-audible whisper.

She remembered the day of the execution, which she had been obliged to attend. She would never forget the pale, terrified faces of her nephews as they were led to the scaffold. The dashing Henri tried till the very end to imitate his father, whom he always idolized. He was shaking and breathing heavily, but still staring out at the assembled crowd with his chin thrust haughtily upward. The always-shy Philippe looked around at the crowd with an expression of disbelief, as if everything was happening to someone else instead of him.

After the execution, it took Jeanne a long time to regain her composure. Only recently had she been able to stop seeing their faces in her dreams. Max had just ripped that wound open, and it turned out to be full of a lot of festering, foul-smelling pus.

“Who promised?” He suddenly asked. “And whom did they promise that to?”

Jeanne raised her head and cast Max an inquiring look.

“Heinrich said that...” She was about to say something, but suddenly stopped.

This kid knew how to hit her where it hurt. Again, she had only recently begun to suspect that Heinrich had purposely gotten rid not only of his brother, but also of his brother’s heirs. He didn’t touch the bastard only because the young man didn’t pose a threat at the time. All he said was that there was nothing he could do. The king was unmovable, and he demanded blood.

“I see, my dear aunt, that our thoughts align here,” said Max.

“These are all just suspicions...” Jeanne tried to object, as she always did when she was alone with her thoughts.

“Usually, suspicions are caused for an investigation to start,” Max shrugged. “At the very least, I thought it prudent to begin making moves. And I’m getting close to the truth.”

“What about me?” Jeanne asked. “You don’t suspect me?”

“I did, at first,” said Max. The total calm with which he spoke sent a light shudder down Jeanne’s spine. “But then I came to understand something about you, which is that you would never have cooperated in the murder of your nieces or nephews. Despite your reputation as the “Stone Lady,” you love us as you would your own children.”

Jeanne felt an unpleasant aching sensation in her chest. But she pulled herself together quickly.

“You’re grabbing a tiger by the tail in going after the head of the family,” she said; her tone of voice was strangely flat.

“More like a shrimp, I think,” smiled Max.

“You know?” Jeanne was surprised. “Your father told you?”

Max replied with an enigmatic shrug.

“You shouldn’t underestimate Heinrich,” said Jeanne coldly. “That sheet of silver had a mantis shrimp on it, not an ordinary shrimp. A dangerous predator that’s able to lie in wait for its prey.”

“Shrimp, mantis shrimp, whatever,” said Max, without any hint of a smile. “They taste the same after you throw them into boiling water. They’re just food for other, more dangerous predators with bigger teeth. If my uncle stays holed up in his castle, waiting for his tiny little fishies to grow up, the line will go extinct before you know it.”

“Your father was the “Lion,” but he ended up on the block,” Jeanne scoffed.

“My father was just the donkey, following the carrot and pulling the cart that brought the real lion onto the scene.”

Jeanne was now staring unblinkingly at Max, eyes wide. Once again, she caught herself thinking that she must be talking to a fully-grown, experienced man, rather than a twenty-year-old boy.

“You’re sure that Heinrich is leading the family to ruin?”

“If some puffed-up Count de Blois decided, right now, that he wanted to take a bite out of the County de de Gramont’s land, my uncle couldn’t do anything to stop it. I’m not questioning his ability at the game of courtly intrigue, but he’s not a warrior. And neither are his sons. They went up north with decorative swords strapped to their belts. I still don’t understand how they managed to survive.”

Jeanne listened to Max speak with rapt attention. After all, she had never taken much interest in this side of the family’s affairs. She always assumed Heinrich knew what he was doing.

“My uncle doesn’t have much of a household force,” Max continued with a chuckle. “He has a few decent warriors, but the others grew fat a long time ago. If things start to get hot, they’ll run for the hills. And hiring warriors from a guild would require a whole lot of money. My uncle threatened to take my castle by force. I’m sure he thought it sounded intimidating. But he can’t even begin to suspect what will happen if he’s ever foolish enough to try it in real life.”

“You place too much confidence in your bodyguard,” said Jeanne; she was trying to make a little display of how well-informed she was. “One stryker against all of the family’s warriors? The odds aren’t good.”

“The odds aren’t good for the family,” Max shook his head.

He sounded so confident in saying this that Jeanne found, quite unexpectedly, that she believed every word immediately. He wasn’t bragging; he wasn’t bluffing. On the contrary — it seemed like the weakness of the family’s household force was a cause of genuine concern to him.

“But still...” Jeanne tried to object.

“My dear aunt, what do you know about the system of ranks for combat mages?” Max suddenly asked.

“I’ve heard about it,” Jeanne replied. “You mean to say that your frost knight is a powerful medius?”

Max replied with a devilish grin. A playful light danced in his eyes.

“Hold on...” Jeanne’s throat suddenly felt dry. “You’re telling me your bodyguard is an avant?”

“Exactly, my dear aunt,” Max smiled. “And right now, he’s downstairs having a nice little meal in your kitchen.”

Jeanne let out a sigh of amazement and slowly sank down onto her chair. She was prepared to hear just about anything. But she was utterly unprepared for the fact that her nephew had a bodyguard who was at the same level as Lord Gray. Wait, she thought...

“But how do you have money for that?” She looked up at him again.

“My savings,” Max shrugged. “I’m pretty thrifty most of the time. And when my uncle threw me to the wolves, I had to learn to economize. Plus, I managed to earn a little bit on the frontier. And you’d be surprised at how little this stryker is actually costing me. For one, I’ve earned quite a bit by having him duel as a champion in my place.”

“So that fight with the head of the werewolf clan, that was — “

“No, no,” Max shook his head. “I had to go into the ring myself for that one. It turned out that the werewolves who attacked us during the hunt were actually preparing a trap for the konung. One of the werewolves that another beloved aunt hired to kill me told me as much, right before he died. That’s part of why I had to fight in that fateful duel.”

As Max spoke of his aunt hiring killers to pursue him, his duel with a werewolf, Prince Louis and Princess Astrid, and more, Jeanne’s head was spinning. His story was so entirely different from those of Gabriel and Francois...

When Max finally finished, she sat there in silence for a little while, trying to absorb everything she had just heard. One thing was clear: her nephew needed something from her. Otherwise, he’d never be speaking so frankly.

“What are your goals?” She finally asked, paying close attention to the expression on his face and his gestures.

“For the line of the de Gramonts to be strong again, as it was during the first campaign into the Shadow,” he replied firmly.

“Then why do you squabble with your uncle like this? You can see that he’s trying to rectify the mistakes your father committed.”

“Do you really think that giving me to another family will strengthen us?” Max answered her question with another.

“It will solve the difficult question of the border with the County de Marbot,” Jeanne shrugged.

Max chuckled.

“Well, it’s certainly in the spirit of Henri the Shrimp. Oh my goodness, excuse me — Henri the Fearsome Mantis Shrimp. In this specific situation, giving a member of the family in marriage is a sign of weakness. Am I to presume that this, rather than a show of strength, is how Heinrich will solve any land disputes that might arise in the future? What happens when he runs out of nephews and children? Will he try to give you away in marriage too, my dear aunt?”

“Heinrich’s not the only one who does this,” objected Jeanne as she felt her cheeks flush. What an insolent kid! “All the high houses act this way! And anyway — does becoming a baron truly hold no interest for you?”

“If it means I won’t be able to continue my line?” Max cocked his head to the side. “Doesn’t the exchange seem a little one-sided to you? Don’t you think I’m worth a little more than that?”

Max’s last sentence struck Jeanne as funny. Who did he think he was? To be sure, he’d been giving a good account of himself recently, and the court was abuzz with talk of his exploits. But he was still a bastard, just as before.

“And you want me to convince Heinrich to cancel it all?” Jeanne snickered.

“No,” Max shook his head. “Not cancel — postpone until we can find a worthy match for me, one that won’t make the family look weak.”

“Alright, let’s say I convince him.” Jeanne’s eyes narrowed. “What can I expect in return for my help?”

She decided to have some fun with the insolent young man before putting him in his place.

“Perhaps I’ll be able to do you a favor of some sort?” Max had clearly taken the bait. “Perhaps you’ve encountered some difficulties that I could help you with?”

“Difficulties, he says,” said Jeanne with a conspiratorial chuckle.

The kid fancied himself a hero. Well, so be it, she thought. He’ll get shit all over his exalted self-image. But he asked for it himself.

“I am facing a certain difficulty,” she said, mentally rubbing her hands together in gleeful anticipation. She was already imagining the look on the self-assured hero’s face as his feigned luster evaporated into thin air.

“I’m at your service, my dear aunt,” said Max as he swallowed the bait.

“A few days ago, I had a visit from a certain Zacharias Beron,” Jeanne began. “He presented me with some of my promissory notes, for which payment has come due...”

“What kind of sum are we talking about?” Max asked.

His tone threw Jeanne off for a moment; but then, trying not to smile, she replied: “5,000 gold imperials.”

Jeanne was expecting her nephew to turn pale when he heard the number. Then, no doubt, he would start producing all sorts of excuses and trying to worm his way out of it. She was already prepared to give him a lecture about his duty to the family, but suddenly, she found that her plan had gone awry.

“Very well, my dear aunt,” said Max calmly. “I’m willing to loan you that amount for, say, a year, and I won’t charge you a single percent of interest. You, in turn, will promise to secure a delay in my marriage. My people will be by this evening with the money, and my solicitor will notarize all the papers.”

For a moment, Jeanne lost the power of speech. But then, after somehow regaining her composure, she asked in a hoarse voice:

“How is this possible? How does a simple bas... Ahem... How do you have this much money?”

Max replied with an enigmatic smile and stepped in closer to Jeanne. He carefully picked up her injured arm with his left hand, and laid his right hand down on her swollen wrist.

“You forget, Madame, that I’ve been in the good graces of Princess Astrid recently. As a reward for my victory in the tournament, I was allowed access to her personal treasury.”

As he spoke, Jeanne watched, almost hypnotized, as his warm, soft hands unwound the bandages wrapped tightly around her wrist. She didn’t have the strength to resist.

“Who applied this dressing? A blacksmith?” He grumbled. “Whoever it is, they should have their hands cut off for this.”

The arm beneath the bandages was blue and horrifically swollen, but strangely, it didn’t hurt at all as Max touched it. Jeanne was silent; she was afraid to even move. She was completely captivated as she watched the expert movement of her nephew’s hands.

“Madame, I couldn’t help noticing that you were about to call me a simple bastard,” said Max placidly as he examined her arm in detail.

Jeanne noticed a change in his expression, as if he was trying to look deep into her wound.

“In a way, you’re right, my dear aunt. Because alas, despite the fact that the blood of the de Gramonts flows in my veins, nothing changes the fact that I’m the son of a merchant’s daughter. But there’s another thing you should know, as well... I’m not exactly a simple bastard.”

Saying this, Max began to run his right hand over Jeanne’s swollen wrist. An instant later, the pain was gone — she felt a light tickling sensation, and the swelling slowly started to subside.

Only at that point did Jeanne realize that she had stopped breathing. Max raised his head, and their eyes met.

“Oh, Most Luminous Mother!” She whispered in a trembling voice as she reached up to lay her hand against Max’s cheek. “You’ve blessed us with a gifted son!”