Last Life

Book 5: Chapter 24

IT WASN’T HARD TO FIND Aurélie de Marbot. Her majestic costume, inspired by the nyad Limnora, was drawing the stares of everyone present. I even stopped for a moment to look at her from afar.

Her long dress flowed down across her elegant figure, changing color from a deep blue to a bright bronze along the way so that it recalled the shimmering of the sun across the surface of a lake. Small sapphires and aquamarines sewn into the hem, created an elegant imitation of waves.

A graceful fan encrusted with tiny gemstones flittered lightly in her hand, which also created the illusion of rippling water. Her silvery necklace with its drop-shaped aquamarine pendant accentuated her neck beautifully, and the long, wavy hair cascading down onto her shoulders was studded with pearls. A light-blue mask covered with gleaming patterns concealed her face.

Aurélie was standing alone. Her brother was nowhere to be seen. Occasionally, a man would approach her. I don’t know what she was saying to them, but each time, their conversation would end quickly. And she would be left alone again. It seemed to me like she was trying, without making it obvious, to find somebody in the big hall.

The orchestra struck up the Leaf Dance just as I stopped next to the viscountess. She looked me up and down, and then, seemingly losing all interest in me, she looked back out to examine the hall.

“Dare I ask such a stunning nyad for this dance?” I asked with a bow.

Aurélie shuddered slightly and looked back at me with suspicion.

“I think it would be quite symbolic,” I added. “After all, it was specifically the Leaf Dance that you granted me last time.”

“Monsieur Renard?” She asked quietly as she leaned in slightly.

“You have an excellent memory, Mademoiselle,” I said as I bowed slightly and offered her my elbow.

The young woman set an elegant hand down on my arm, and we strode off to join the other dancers. I took a short, quiet breath in through my nose and sensed a light floral smell emanating from the viscountess.

“I received your message,” I said quietly. “That was a big risk. Why did you do it? It seemed to me at our last meeting that you didn’t have a great deal of regard for me.”

“My personal feelings are irrelevant when it comes to a danger to someone’s life. Even if it’s someone like you,” she replied just as quietly. “Besides, I’ve had the opportunity to realize that you, like me, are nothing more than a hostage in the situation developing around this betrothal. And like me, you don’t want this wedding.”

“All very true,” I replied. “I find it sickening that my freedom is being exchanged for a few trees. Besides that... It may be hard to believe, but I’m an incurable romantic. I’m convinced that one should only tie one’s fate to a person if one truly loves them.”

Aurélie looked at me inquisitively. It was like she was trying to look into my soul.

“You’re right,” she finally said. “It’s hard to believe in that, though. And in our world, it’s only possible in romance novels. People in our circles must think first and foremost of their duty to family and line. This affects women even more than men. For us, these matters are decided by the heads of our houses.”

Her voice carried notes of sadness and inevitability.

“What if I told you that, at least in our case, we could change that?” I asked.

This startled her, but she didn’t lose her place in the dance. Her elevated chest began rising and falling more rapidly with nervous excitement. I could see anger and disdain in the viscountess’ eyes.

“So that’s how you want to thank me for my concern?” She asked coldly. “I don’t know what you’ve presumed about me, but making such a suggestion to a noblewoman is disgraceful. It’s unbecoming of a nobleman. Monsieur Renard, you’ve only managed to disappoint me more — “

She tried to push me away and leave the center of the hall, but I held her in place. We kept dancing.

“Mademoiselle,” I said, “I sincerely regret that my words have upset you so much. Admittedly, I don’t fully understand why... And more importantly, what suggestion are you referring to?”

“Did you not just propose that we elope?” Aurélie asked skeptically, although she didn’t try to tear herself out of my hands. “That’s how it sounded.”

At that, I wanted to slap myself on the forehead. The viscountess had obviously read too many chivalrous novels. At the same time, I hadn’t made such a great showing of myself, either. Basically, I forgot who I was talking to.

“I sincerely apologize,” I said. “And I regret having spoken in a way that implied multiple meanings. Please believe that I would never allow myself to besmirch your honor with such a suggestion.”

The viscountess responded with a suspicious expression.

“Then what did you mean?”

“Not elopement, that’s for certain,” I replied with a chuckle. “Retreating is not in my character.”

“You’ve completely confused me now,” said Aurélie in a bewildered tone, before adding: “In any case, it’s all been decided. The heads of our households have said their piece. And we’re required to submit to them... So I don’t understand what you could possibly mean.”

The final chords sounded out, and we froze in mid-bow. Silently, I escorted Aurélie back to the same place she was standing before the dance.

Before leaving, I stepped in closer and, speaking so quietly that only she could hear me, I said:

“I thank you for the dance, Mademoiselle. And for the warning. As for our conversation, the one you mentioned... I wanted to ask for your forgiveness beforehand...”

“What for?” The viscountess asked worriedly.

“For what I have to do tonight,” I replied. “Remember, I’m not used to retreating.”

I could see anxiety and confusion in Aurélie’s eyes. With a bow, I turned and headed off to the opposite end of the hall.

For the next few hours, the dances alternated with dinner, relaxation, socializing, and performances by some minstrels, among whose various ballads there was the song of the “Bastard Sword.” During the performance of that song, all the young people in their dark costumes with the aforementioned swords behind their backs were saluted with loud ovations and happy shouts.

Finally, the moment came when the majordomo announced that all the guests could remove their masts and show their faces to the others present.

I quickly glanced around the hall. Hm... So I was right. Other than Prince Heinrich and his retinue, everybody at the ball was “red.” The Duke de Bauffremont, naturally, was not on the guest list, and nor was anyone else from his party. But I noticed that there were a lot of people who used to sport green colors, but who had transferred their loyalties to Prince Phillipe’s party. The latter, by the way, wasn’t at the ball either. And that wasn’t surprising — the Duke de Bauffremont was keeping his nephew close.

I looked out at the faces of some of the nobles. Most of these former “greens” were with me on my trip up north. The Duke de Gondy was obviously trying to woo them over to his side. And my uncle Heinrich was one of them. By the way, Blanca de Gondy’s words about her father’s opinion of the Count de Gramont had partially confirmed my suspicions. In fact, it wouldn’t have surprised me to hear that the King of the South had already succeeded in his attempts.

At the Duke de Gondy’s orders, the musicians stopped playing, and the hall went quiet. The attention of the guests was locked on the majordomo. He called out loudly to inform us all that there would be an important announcement very shortly.

Everyone was chatting excitedly as they trickled into the center of the hall, where among others there stood the Duke de Gondy himself, along with his daughter, Prince Heinrich, the Count de Gramont, and Émile de Marbot, on whose arm Aurélie de Marbot was hanging with her face as white as chalk.

Silence settled over the hall as the Duke de Gondy began to speak. The light of the chandeliers glittered on his gemstones, making his figure all the more pronounced among the rest of those present.

“Ladies and Gentlemen!” The duke began with majestic confidence as he looked out across the faces of the nobles assembled before him. “This evening is special not only for me, as the master of this house, but also for all of us present here tonight. It heralds a new chapter in the histories of two great houses! Many of you know of the long-standing dispute between the houses of Gramont and Marbot. But those times, thankfully, are a thing of the past!”

A tense feeling of expectation was palpable in the hall. The attention of every guest was riveted on what was happening. Several of them exchanged glances.

I could feel some of them looking at me. Turning around, I saw Valerie’s pale face. Her expression radiated fear and anxiety. It seemed like she might actually lose consciousness.

I just winked at her and smiled encouragingly. But that didn’t seem to calm her down at all; on the contrary, it seemed to make things worse.

“Today!” The duke continued as he turned part of the way toward Max’s uncle, whose expression was one of decisiveness and inflexibility. “Thanks to the wisdom and far-sightedness of the Count de Gramont and the Count de Marbot, we are about to witness the union of these two great houses! Chevalier Maximilian Renard and the Viscountess Aurélie de Marbot will be wed!”

A many-voiced noise rolled through the hall, but the duke raised his hand to call for silence.

“But before I continue!” He exclaimed, looking around at his guests with a faint smile on his face. “Per ancient custom, I must ask you all: is there anyone here who objects to this union?”

For a moment, a tense silence hung in the hall as people began to look around at one another. They were waiting to see if anyone would dare to speak up. I saw Heinrich de Gramont freeze. His left eye was twitching occasionally under the tension. I saw the Duchess du Bellay’s downcast face, and the triumphant expression of the Countess de Gramont.

Émile de Marbot, who towered above everyone, had a bloodthirsty grin on his face as he looked down at his deathly-pale sister.

Hm, I thought... Here’s my way out. I squeezed my way out through the crowd. All eyes immediately turned to look at me.

“I object!” My voice resounded through the enormous space like thunder through a silent sky. My gaze met that of Heinrich de Gramont.

I had never seen him so confused before. His usual cold and unflappability were gone, and Heinrich’s true character was revealed. That of a self-doubting coward, who was used to settling all his problems secretly and indirectly. Now, however, he found himself in a situation that required a face-to-face confrontation, as if he were on the field of battle.

He hesitated in giving an answer, and everyone noticed. The nobles, who were all having a raucous good time up till then as they bowed politely to each other, were in reality a pack of bloodthirsty sharks, who didn’t forgive even the slightest sign of weakness. And Heinrich had shown immediately that he was very weak indeed.

The Duke de Gondy rushed to his aid as soon as Blanca whispered something into her father’s ear. Apparently, she was explaining who exactly I was.

By the way, Prince Heinrich was watching the whole spectacle with a huge smile on his face. He was obviously enjoying it all. As were his sycophants and hangers-on. One of them was my old friend, Baron von Herwart. The Astlander had a smug smirk on his face as his gaze burned into me.

Gaspar Craonne and the Marquis de Hangest were there too. But I didn’t see André de Châtillon. I figured that he probably didn’t enjoy the prince’s favor anymore.

“How am I to understand this, Monsieur?” The Duke de Gondy asked sternly. But I could see a playful sparkle in his eyes. Good gods, what a show! This masquerade would be the talk of the town for a long time to come.

“With all possible respect, Your Grace,” I bowed. “What about it is unclear?”

Whispers rippled through the assembled guests. The eyes of the young people burned with excitement, while those of the older guests were looking at me reproachfully.

I could almost feel the menace radiating from Émile the Toad. He was obviously irate. The Viscount de Marbot was looking at me like some sort of predatory reptile preparing to attack an insolent fly. And judging by the look on her face, his sister had already given me up for dead.

“You’ve just objected to your own betrothal to the Viscountess de Marbot,” said the Duke de Gondy. “We cannot help but wonder — why? Would you be so kind as to enlighten us and satisfy our curiosity in this?”

For just a second, a little smirk flitted across the face of the King of the South.

“It would be my pleasure,” I said. “There are several reasons, but I will limit myself to naming two. First, the captivating Viscountess de Marbot does not love me, and I, as a man of honor, could therefore never allow myself to marry her.”

Whispering snaked through the hall again, louder this time. The “elders” were outraged at the audacity of “this young man who dares to act against the will of the head of his line,” and “for such a stupid, self-concocted reason” at that. The younger guests, though, were clearly on my side.

Young women waved themselves excitedly with their fans as their intrigued stares burned into me, and the eyes of the young men were afire with excitement. And it wasn’t surprising... I dared to act against their system. Most of them were probably already engaged, or themselves mired in marriages to people they didn’t love. How many broken hearts were concealed behind those breastplates, in the name of one’s “duty to the line?” By the way, Blanca de Gondy’s excited eyes were riveted on me the entire time. Aurélie looked confused, as if she was seeing me for the first time.

I looked around at the rear rows where the musicians and servants were standing. There were many famous minstrels in attendance. I was sure that before the end of the night, the capital would be buzzing with a sequel to that “Bastard Sword” song.

“And second, I’m afraid I won’t have any time to devote to a wedding in the coming months,” I said with a bow. “I hope, Your Grace, that I’ve satisfied your curiosity?”

The Duke de Gondy obviously wanted to extract some more drama from the unfolding situation and maximize the pleasure his viewers were getting from the whole thing. He was obviously intending to continue our little dialogue, but just then, the Count de Gramont finally regained his ability to speak. His face broke out in big, blotchy red spots. Enraged, he shouted in a squeaky, cracking voice:

“Insolent brat! You’ve been trying my patience for far too long! For this disobedience I hereby expel you from our line! From now on, you’re on your own!”

The audience froze, spellbound by every word. A deathly silence hung over the hall. It seemed that nobody was expecting such a move from the count. After all, they didn’t know that I’d already managed to “pour some fuel onto his fire” that night.

The Duke de Gondy responded with a slightly frown as he glanced at Heinrich, who was trembling with rage. Even the prince, who was enjoying the scene thoroughly the entire time, was staring at Max’s uncle with surprise.

True, several of the “elders” in the crowd were nodding approval. But the young were almost unanimously staring at the count with obvious distaste.

“Understood, Monsieur!” I said loudly, and without a bow.

So, I thought — that’s it. The only person I have to answer to now is the king. Such would be the information Carl III would receive from his jester, who would already know about everything before the ball ended.

Kiko would whisper into the king’s ear that his new margrave was free from the influence of his family, whose patriarch would no longer be inserting himself into the margrave’s business. From now on, he would be exclusively dependent on his ruler, and dedicated solely to him. And the new Margrave de Valier wouldn’t be rushing off to save his lands or those of his line instead of carrying out His Majesty’s orders, as Lord Gray had done.

All the same, I had one more piece of business to take care of...

Émile the Toad, who was glaring at me with a hate-filled, hypnotic stare the entire time, suddenly took a staggering step forward and loudly announced:

“You pathetic, bastard scoundrel! This base stunt of yours has brought shame onto my house! And you’re going to clean it off with your own blood!”

The rage that possessed Émile was making his features even more distorted than usual. He was looking less and less human with every passing second.

People shuffled away from him. And a transformation began.

The nisse was right. Émile was a lizardman. A particularly rare type of shapeshifter. Actually, according to Itta, these people didn’t tend to be aggressive (much less so than werewolves, at least). If you didn’t mess with them, they were unlikely to attack you first. But in Émile’s case, the usual arithmetic had been thrown off by the interference of a witch.

“Viscount!” I replied in an icy tone. “You have but to name the time and the place!”

“You dii-iie hee-ere and noo-oow!” Émile’s voice was already sounding more like a reptilian hiss than human speech.

Having grown even taller and broader at the shoulders, the lizardman spread his long arms, tipped with long, fat claws, out to the side before suddenly jumping ahead.

It happened fast. Very fast. And that wasn’t surprising; on the contrary, it was what one would expect from a powerful medius. Émile had obviously been developing his strange gift, and reached a high level. With the possible exceptions of Sigurd and Lord Gray, the Viscount de Marbot was one of the most powerful gifted people I had ever seen.

The shapeshifter’s transformation sent everyone present into a state of shock. Few of the guests, it seemed, were familiar lizardmen. The ballroom filled with noise. Overcome by the whole scene, several ladies fainted into the arms of their gentlemen. A wide circle formed around the Viscount and me.

Drawing my sword as I kept close track of my opponent’s movements, my peripheral attention picked up the commands that the Duke de Gondy was shouting to his retainers. Dozens of halberds began to glint in the candlelight above the heads of the assembled guests. The duke’s soldiers elbowed their way through the crowd as they hurried toward us.

An instant later, though, I no longer had any attention to spare — Émile lunged into his attack.

* * *

Herouxville. New Capital

The Duke de Gondy’s palace

“It seems Carl will have to find himself a new margrave,” the Count de Clairmont muttered to himself as he watched the drama unfolding below him in the hall.

This upstart chevalier, this newly-minted margrave, could sure put on one hell of a show. Édouard even began to think that this might be yet another one of the Duke de Gondy’s stunts. Robert always loved this sort of thing, about as much as Édouard hated it.

To be honest, though, Édouard had never enjoyed balls and receptions. He was in his element on the field of battle. Despite the fact that he was a Marshal of Vestonia, in his heart of hearts he was still the same swordsman who had fought side by side with the current king as the latter earned the moniker “the Victorious.” Édouard preferred a simple meal of freshly-killed moose at a campfire over the sophisticated fare of the royal palace.

It seemed that Louisa, whose hands were locked in a death grip on his arm, must have heard his words. She flinched and leaned in ever so slightly as she watched the massive lizard-shapeshifter move forward toward the upstart margrave.

Édouard could sympathize with his spouse’s anxiety. This Émile de Marbot had turned out to be a disgusting monster (quite literally). Robert de Gondy’s soldiers, who were trying to break their way through the crowd, probably wouldn’t be able to save the insolent young man, but neither did Édouard doubt that they would kill this lizardman before the night was through. The Duke of the South wouldn’t forgive such an insult.

Édouard snickered. Robert had no one but himself to blame. He’d overplayed his hand. He had stooped to doing a favor for Heinrich de Gramont, that coward who betrayed his own brother. Édouard had always hated Ferdinand de Gramont, but he had never considered him a coward. Heinrich’s small-mindedness and weakness, on the other hand, made him an object of particular disdain for the Duke de Clairmont. He was a traitor to his own family.

The young man who was about to die by the claws of the monster in front of them certainly lacked none of his father’s courage.

Finally, the lizardman made a lightning-fast lunge forward...

“That’s it,” thought Édouard. But within a second, his expression changed to one of wide-eyed surprise. Renard not only managed to avoid death — he also dodged the monster’s claws and delivered a counterattack of his own in the process. Watching in awe as Renard delivered expert, accurate, lightning-quick thrusts and pulled off timely dodges one after the other, Édouard finally connected the dots in his head and realized that this young man was a soldier of the Order of the Silver Wing, and also the victor of the Great Trial.

Édouard watched Renard’s every move with fascination, noting his mastery and cool-headedness. With every heartbeat, the opponents were picking up their pace. They were moving faster and faster. Soon, Édouard was having trouble discerning their individual movements. Only then did it dawn on him: this Renard was no normal man. He was gifted. And powerfully gifted at that.

At a certain point, the Duke de Clairmont thought he saw Renard’s speed slacken, but then he realized that in reality, the lizard (who had been Émile de Marbot only minutes before) had simply sped up his movements. In the brief moments when Édouard managed to get a decent look at the giant, it seemed to him that the transformation still hadn’t come to a stop.

Renard had already wounded Émile several times, but the lizard’s hide was already healing over, right in front of the assembled crowd’s eyes.

“Oh, Most Luminous Mother!” Louisa de Clairmont said in a shaky gasp. “The boy is doomed!”

Édouard just glanced over at his spouse’s ghostly-pale face and continued watching the battle in the middle of the hall.

It seemed that the opponents managed to trade a thousand blows while Robert de Gondy’s men were making their way through the crowd. Out of the corner of his eye, Édouard noticed a tall soldier, frozen at the edge of the circle that had formed around the two opponents. He was watching the duel intently. His hideously-scarred face displayed not even the faintest trace of emotion.

Édouard realized who this man was. It was the former frost knight who served Renard as a bodyguard — a man who was the subject of a great deal of rumor in the capital. Several of Édouard’s acquaintances attributed the victory over the konung’s shadow beast to this man.

Malicious whispers asserted that in the chaos that erupted in the stands that day, nobody would even have noticed the stryker-avant jump into the ring and help his master slay the Shadow bear. Now, of course, Édouard could tell that Renard was perfectly capable of handling such a beast on his own.

Admittedly, Édouard wouldn’t have put his money on the young man just then. He was obviously fighting at the limits of his strength, while the lizardman’s onslaught was only growing more intense as time went on. Any moment now, he would commit an error, and the lizard’s clawed paw would find its way into the body of the agile young man.

Just as Édouard thought it was all over for Renard, something bizarre happened. The young man’s body froze for a second, standing like a statue, before disappearing altogether. The lizardman leapt at that very moment, trying to sweep his opponent up into his deadly embrace, but his claw-tipped hands met only thin air.

A heartbeat later, and Renard appeared behind the lizard’s back. With a lightning-quick blow, he sank a curved dagger into the monster’s side. Édouard could have sworn that the young man’s new dagger was glowing a shade of deep lilac.

Stunned, the duke turned his attention to the towering northerner at the edge of the circle. There was a satisfied smile on his fearsome face.

Meanwhile, Renard kept disappearing, then reappearing, sinking his glowing blade into the lizard’s body and leaving horrifying wounds each time he did so. The monster tried to resist for a while, but the balance of power in the battle had changed. The floor around the lizardman was covered with his blood. He was moving more and more slowly all the time.

Eventually, Renard appeared right in front of his opponent and sank his blade right into the center of the beast’s chest, before bouncing back and jerking his weapon violently back out. The wound on the lizard’s chest exploded into what looked like a big, bloody flower. Édouard noticed bright white flecks of bone.

The monster’s legs crumpled, and he dropped dead to the floor.

“Édouard.” Louisa was squeezing her husband’s arm frantically. “How did he do that?”

Édouard only had one possible answer to that question.

“I believe we’ve just witnessed the birth of a new avant.”