Last Life

Book 5: Chapter 25

Herouxville. New Capital

The Duke de Gondy’s palace

THE DUCHESS DU BELLAY forced her way stubbornly through the crowd. She felt like her heart might burst out of her chest at any moment. She was in a hurry. Jeanne could already see the Duke de Gondy and Prince Heinrich heading toward the center of the hall. This was a moment of triumph for her nephew, and she had to be by his side as it happened!

Even from where she stood, she could hear other guests discussing what had happened, although the conversation was so feverish that all she could hear were snippets of words and phrases:

“...avant...”

“...de Gramont must be blind...”

“Viscount de Marbot was a monster...”

Jeanne understood that the whole capital would hear about what had happened before a full day went by. More than that, this news would be the main topic of discussion for a long time, and would acquire new details with every passing day. That would be assured by the minstrels, whom Robert de Gondy had invited in huge numbers.

An avant! Her nephew, a real, live avant! All this time, she thought that Max possessed the gifts of a healer, but it turned out that he was one of the most powerful combat mages in the entire kingdom! But how was such a thing possible? Upon further reflection, though, there was only one explanation: he was one of the true gifted. This, however, prompted another question: namely, how he was able to use that stryker’s weapon. After all, she had seen the glow of his curved dagger. Were true gifted really capable of such things?

Thoughts were flying through the Duchess’ mind like flocks of frightened birds.

She couldn’t help but wonder — did Ferdinand know about his son’s gift? Oh! Of course he had! Why else would he have recognized the bastard, and given him a whole castle in the Old Capital to boot?

The duels, the frontier, the Great Trial... It seemed like everything that was happening with her nephew was a series of unbelievable coincidences, from which Max kept emerging miraculously unscathed. Well, not just unscathed — he kept getting stronger and stronger. After what she’d just seen, Jeanne was certain of one thing: Max’s actions were all part of a carefully-laid plan.

Oh, Most Luminous Mother! All her suspicions were correct. Max was aiming at the County de Gramont! He knew that Heinrich couldn’t simply be deposed, so Max was working toward his destruction from afar. And as a first step, he made him out to be a weakling and a coward. In front of everyone, no less!

Did Henri understand the trap he was caught in? Many people would now see him as a tempting target, someone whose toughness could be put to the test. And he would go down in history as a man who disowned a true avant, and very nearly brought a disgusting monster into the family! The line of the de Gramonts was in for hard times, and it was all Heinrich’s fault...

As she made her way through the crowd, she glanced at her brother and his family as they made a hasty exit. Jeanne just shook her head. Henri the Shrimp... As always, he was running away at the very moment when he should be standing firm to the end, meeting danger face-to-face.

She could see servants carrying off poor Aurélie de Marbot, who lost consciousness after the horrible events she had endured. Long-term, of course, Max had done her a huge service. The viscountess would henceforth have full rights to her entire inheritance. As far as Jeanne understood, the old Count de Marbot already had one foot in the grave (apparently thanks in part to his son). Dad would soon pass into his next life, and the viscountess would become the Countess de Marbot. Jeanne wouldn’t be surprised to see Aurélie surrounded by suitors the moment she recovered consciousness.

When she was within a few steps of Max and his bodyguard, Jeanne noticed that Valerie was hurrying toward him from the other side. The Duchess frowned. Why was she still there? Why hadn’t she left with Heinrich?

“My congratulations, Your Lordship,” Jeanne heard her nephew’s bodyguard say as she approached. The stryker’s tone was one of satisfaction. “That was risky.”

“Why did he address Max as “Your Lordship?”“ She wondered to herself.

“You said it yourself — it was going to be risky no matter what,” replied Max calmly. “We needed one final push. And we killed two birds with one stone in the process.”

To this, Max’s bodyguard just snickered as he nodded down at the lizard’s enormous corpse.

“Max!” Jeanne shouted as she approached. “My boy! How horrible! You’re covered in blood! I hope you’re not wounded?”

Max turned around to reveal a big smile on his face. He strode forward and grasped both her hands in his own. At that moment, the Duchess thanked the Most Luminous Mother once again for the “hint” that she should take her nephew’s side.

“My dear aunt!” He said in a caring, affectionate tone. “All is well. I hope you can forgive me for causing you anxiety this evening.”

“Brother!” Valerie shouted as she rushed in to grab Max’s arm. Her eyes were filled with tears, but a happy, slightly dazed smile danced on her lips. The Duchess, however, could tell that her niece was frightened at her own actions. In failing to leave the duke’s palace along with her uncle, she would attract his wrath. She was holding onto her brother’s arm the way a drowning man would hold onto a life preserver.

“Sister,” said Max warmly. “I promised you things would be fine, didn’t I?”

“Chevalier!” Jeanne heard the Duke de Gondy pronounce; she stepped in closer to her nephew. Valerie did the same. The noise of voices around them began to quiet. The guests began to move in toward the center of the hall. “I hope that you — “

He didn’t finish, because Max interrupted him.

“Margrave,” he corrected the duke firmly. Jeanne turned abruptly to stare in disbelief at her nephew. Valerie had the same expression on her face as her aunt.

“What?” Prince Heinrich asked, sounding bewildered.

“Margrave Maximilian de Valier, at your service, Your Highness,” said Max with a bow.

The flow of thoughts in the Duchess’ head increased rapidly in intensity. Margrave! Of course! Oh, Most Luminous Mother! So this was how Carl had chosen to reward him!

Jeanne frowned, trying to remember where she’d heard the name of this margraviate before, but for the time being she couldn’t place it. But that didn’t matter! Max’s status was now higher than Heinrich’s, especially during wartime. Henri would go down in history for having disowned a man who was not only an avant, but a margrave as well! For a moment, Jeanne imagined the look on her brother’s face when she came to visit and remind him of her own warning not to engage in these games with the betrothal. She closed her eyes for a second, savoring the anticipated taste of revenge.

“This is news to me,” the prince chuckled. “Somehow I haven’t heard about this...”

“And yet it’s the truth,” said a firm voice that made them all turn around. “The king himself informed me that Chevalier Renard has been rewarded with the Margraviate de Valier.”

Jeanne recognized that voice. It was Édouard de Clairmont, Marshal of Vestonia. His wife Louisa de Clairmont was there, too. The Duchess du Bellay couldn’t help noticing the piercing look in the eyes of the Mistress of the Queen’s Bedchamber as she looked at Max. Suddenly, Jeanne got the sense that Louisa was already familiar with her nephew, even though she was obviously seeing him for the first time.

The line of Clairmont was an ancient and extremely powerful family. A match, in that regard, even for the royal family. Everyone knew that Édouard was as devoted to Carl as any dog could be to its master.

Jeanne was very surprised that the Marshal decided to lend Max his support at this particular moment. After all, the de Clairmonts loathed the de Gramonts, despite the friendly relations they once enjoyed. It was all because of Ferdinand... The Duke de Clairmont blamed him for the death of his son and heir.

“Ah, Duke!” A shadow fell over Prince Heinrich’s face. “You’re here, as well... Madame...”

“Your Highness,” replied Louisa de Clairmont with an elegant curtsey (which nevertheless betrayed a pointed lack of respect).

Even an untrained eye could tell that the prince didn’t have a very high opinion of these two. And that they, in turn, felt the same way about him. Jeanne realized that Heinrich was angry at de Clairmont because the king was sending him into Bergonia instead of the prince. The prince obviously interpreted this order as an insult.

“So, that explains everything!” Prince Heinrich smiled wryly, and then turned to Max: “The second cause you were referring to, Monsieur... Haha! It’s clear now what you were up to. You’re headed to Bergonia as well, then. I just remembered where exactly the Margraviate de Valier is located. Shadow Pass, right?”

Jeanne flinched, and turned to look at her nephew. As it turned out, Max wasn’t just headed to war... He was going to one of the most dangerous places in all Mainland The Duchess du Bellay had a hard time concealing her indignation. So this was how the king expressed his gratitude? For everything Max had done? This was how Carl rewarded him?

Jeanne could feel in her heart that her nephew was being mistreated. Logically, however, she understood that a margraviate represented a step up in the chain of command. Besides that, Max was an avant, and he wasn’t going to war alone! The Duchess glanced at the towering northerner who served as his bodyguard.

As she realized the scale of the prospects that were beginning to unfold, and no longer doubting the fact that her nephew clearly had some sort of plan, Jeanne felt her breath taken away for a moment. If someone had told her two years ago that events of this sort would swirl into being around some unknown bastard of her elder brother, Jeanne would never have believed it.

“It’s all true, Your Highness,” said Max.

The Duchess glanced at Valerie. She was pale, and it seemed like she might drop unconscious to the floor at any moment. Jeanne stepped over to her niece and furtively reached out to grab her arm. It was ice cold. Valerie flinched, and then turned to look up at Jeanne with pleading in her eyes.

Well, the Duchess thought — I bet you didn’t expect this. She pondered for a moment. So be it, she concluded. I’ll save you, you silly little girl. I’ll bring you to Heinrich and tell him that I’ve asked you to come live with me. It’ll cheer him up, at the very least.

“Well, who better than a stryker to restore order on the border with the Shadow,” Prince Heinrich chuckled as he glanced over at Baron von Herwart. “You were right the whole time, Friedrich. Our new margrave really is gifted.”

Jeanne saw the Baron’s face light up, and noted the vindictiveness in his eyes as he turned to look at Max. But the next words out of the prince’s mouth wiped the smug smile right off the Astlander’s face.

“But judging by what I just saw,” Prince Heinrich nodded toward the corpse of the lizard, which was being hauled away by several servants, “had Monsieur de Valier actually applied even a quarter of his real power during that Sword Dance, I don’t think you’d be standing here with us today.”

Then the prince turned to all those assembled and announced:

“Well, I believe it’s time for me to bid you all farewell! I gather that the fun is over for this evening!”

After bowing farewell to the prince, and then to the Dukes de Gondy and de Clairmont, Jeanne turned to Max:

“We must talk again before your departure.”

“Very well, Madame,” he replied.

“And you, my dear, will come with me,” said the Duchess as she turned to Valerie. “I’ll bring you home and tell your uncle that it was me who detained you.”

Valerie sighed with relief, but the fear in her eyes was still there.

“There’s no need for that, my dear aunt,” said Max. Both women turned to look at him with surprise. “I think Valerie might benefit from a change of scenery. How would you like to come stay with me for a while, sister?”

Max looked at the viscountess with a mischievous smile. She seemed to regain her liveliness, and turned to Jeanne. There was so much suppressed hope and joy in her eyes.

“Stay with you?” Jeanne repeated as she stared at her niece and nephew.

“Yes, my dear aunt,” said Max as he glanced at Valerie with a smile. “I think the viscountess de Gramont has every right to stay with her brother the Margrave de Valier at his castle for a while. What do you think, Madame?”

“You’re right, my boy,” Jeanne smiled in reply. “A change of scene would do her good. The only thing is...”

“What?”

“A little while?” Jeanne repeated his words with a little chuckle in her voice; she could already guess what her nephew was planning. “That’s quite vague.”

“So it is,” Max winked; then, as he offered his arm to Valerie, he added: “My sister will stay with me until such time as she gets sick of me. Please pass that on to my dear uncle. Also, please urge him not to worry. My sister won’t want for anything.”

Valerie let out a muffled squeak of delight and laid an elegant hand down on her brother’s elbow. Jeanne shook her head and looked around. At least two dozen other guests overheard that little exchange. After that, any attempt by Heinrich to return Valerie to his guardianship by force would be seen by society at large as unseemly, possibly downright outrageous. But Jeanne knew that Henri the Shrimp would never be decisive enough to do that anyway.

* * *

Herouxville. New Capital

The de Gramont mansion.

Heinrich de Gramont stood next to the window in his office, reading. He read slowly, as if pacing himself, like he was trying to memorize every letter and comma in the accursed text in front of him.

His face looked like a marble mask, pale and unmoving. Beneath that mask, however, a volcano of hatred bubbled and seethed. Those eyes, which were normally cold and inexpressive, had narrowed, and began to flash with sparks of angry fire.

His teeth were clenched tightly, as if the count was trying to restrain a hurricane of emotion inside him that was trying to burst out. He always avoided giving off any outward sign of anger, but those close to the count could tell that Heinrich was on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

In his trembling hand, there was a big pile of papers, the results of an outpouring of popular creativity spawned by that accursed ball at the Duke de Gondy’s palace.

Only five days had passed since then, but both the New and Old Capitals were still seething, boiling like kettles full of stinking muck. Heinrich knew that this was just the beginning...

The count would have loved to throw the papers straight into the fire. But what would that gain him? The songs of Eswain the Shadow Master, who humiliated the cowardly Tarren, God of Wisdom, and then saved his beloved nyad Limnora the Beautiful by slaying her nefarious brother Zeptis (who was holding her captive) were already becoming favorites at every tavern and receiving house in the city.

No... Heinrich would keep these papers, so that he would always remember who exactly had brought disgrace onto his family.

“That awful bastard...” Heinrich hissed through gritted teeth.

He might have been able to bear the vulgar songs about the god of trickery and illusions. But when Heinrich read the vile verses about Henri the Shrimp, who betrayed his own brother for his inheritance and killed his own nephews, he thought his heart might stop.

Even Ferdinand’s treason hadn’t done as much damage to the honor of the house of Gramont as this frenzy of popular humor. After all, the whole story could have serious consequences for the family in general, as well as for him personally.

That very evening, after Heinrich returned home with his family, Jeanne came by to rub more salt into the wound. It turned out that the bastard had somehow managed to obtain the title of margrave. The only thing that brought some cheer to Heinrich was the hope that the damnable bastard would meet his death in Bergonia. The scoundrel had also taken Valerie into his own home, on an apparently-innocuous pretext, and Heinrich knew he could do nothing about it. At least for the time being...

The Count de Gramont had never before experienced such a powerful sense of outrage and shame. Or, for that matter, of hatred and fear... After all, he hadn’t received a single invitation to a reception or ball from any of the other noble houses for days on end. Everyone was avoiding him like the plague...

When Catherine burst into his office, accompanied by Gabriel and Francois, they found Heinrich sitting in an armchair, staring blankly at the wall in front of him. He seemed to have lost every scrap vitality. At that moment, all he wanted was for them all to leave him alone.

The first thing his wife did, however, was race over to the table laden with wine and fruit. Without waiting for a footman, Catherine poured herself a brimming glass of wine. As her sons looked on in astonishment, she drained the glass in several big, sloppy gulps.

This shocked Francois most of all. Treating his beloved beverage in such a way was tantamount to blasphemy.

Gabriel, on the other hand, looked at his mother with sympathy. He was obviously angry, but at the same time he was confused.

Catherine reached out for the handle of the pitcher again, but this time her eyes fell on the papers that Heinrich had just been reading. Like a rabid cat, she pounced on them, picked them up, and started violently tearing them to shreds.

Heinrich just wiped his tired face with his hand. His sons, meanwhile, rushed to restrain their mother.

Throwing their hands deftly off her shoulders, Catherine leaned down over the table and hissed:

“What are you going to do, husband? You must have some sort of plan, right?”

“The first thing we’re going to do is calm down,” the count replied calmly, ignoring his wife’s hysterics.

“And then?” Catherine asked, her voice full of mockery. The wine seemed to have gone straight to her head; otherwise, she would never have allowed herself to speak that way to her husband.

Heinrich didn’t have a chance to answer. Francois suddenly stepped forward and proclaimed loudly:

“That accursed bastard must die!”

Clenching his scrawny little fists as he stood there, Heinrich could see nothing in him but a helpless little boy. Especially after seeing Ferdinand’s bastard in action. The gold-and-gemstone-encrusted hilt of Francois’ sword looked positively absurd after what he’d just said.

“You want to challenge him to a duel?” Heinrich asked, raising his right eyebrow as he turned to look his younger son firmly in the eyes.

Francois twitched as though he’d been slapped in the face, then stepped back. A hint of redness appeared on his cheeks. He glanced sheepishly at his father, then at his mother.

“That’s what I thought,” grunted Heinrich. Without blinking, he turned to stare at his sons.

“Didn’t you see what happened at that ball?” He asked in an icy tone. “That bastard hid his real nature from us masterfully. And he’s not just gifted. Oh no. He’s an avant! You could count the number of mages at his level in this kingdom on one hand! Don’t even imagine an open confrontation with him! That’s exactly what he’s waiting for. You understand what he’s trying to do? He’s planning to take everything from us — everything that belongs to us by right!”

“But father!” A preoccupied Francois shouted. “How is that even possible? He’s the bastard of a traitor and conspirator! He wouldn’t dare stake a claim to leadership of the family! Nobody would support it!”

“Yes they would,” Heinrich exhaled angrily. “They’d support it to the rafters... I must ask — have you gone deaf? Can you not hear the songs they’re singing in every filthy rathole in this city?! That duel is the talk of every single noble house in the country! Our deaths would be a boon to him. So don’t do anything stupid... Now leave me... I’m tired...”

Disheartened by their father’s words, the young men quickly left the office, leaving Catherine and Heinrich on their own.

“Follow their every step,” the count warned his wife. “Especially Francois... His impulsiveness could lead us to disaster.”

Her husband’s words seemed to have a sobering effect on her, and she nodded.

“What are we going to do?” She asked. “We’ve been disgraced. We haven’t had a single visit since that night. Marielle hasn’t left her room. She’s crying all the time. The Marquis de Coligny wrote to her that he’s very ill and can’t come see her... Even though he was seen at the Duchess de Savari’s ball yesterday evening.”

“Maybe it’s for the best,” grumbled the count. “I never liked that de Coligny anyway. And he’s certainly not worthy of our daughter...”

“Oh, Henri!” Catherine moaned, pressing her hands to her chest.

“Okay...” Heinrich spoke a little more softly this time. “Yes — I have a plan. We’re going to wait until this scandal dies down a little bit. Later, when we’re ready, we’ll deal one single, sudden blow and annihilate this bastard!”

“But — “ Catherine was about to object, but a knock at the door interrupted her.

“Come in,” said Heinrich.

The door opened immediately, and a footman stepped over the threshold. On his tray lay a little paper card from a visitor.

Heinrich beckoned, and the footman approached. Taking the card from the tray, the count read it and glanced pensively up at his wife. She noticed a familiar gleam in his eyes, a gleam that always appeared at moments of particular insight.

“Now this is curious,” he muttered, before turning back to the footman: “Invite him in.’

A few seconds later, a short old man with a hawkish profile stepped into the Count de Gramont’s office. Despite his age, he was moving lightly and energetically, like an experienced predator tracking his prey.

His gaze was sharp and piercing, his movements sudden and decisive. The form-fitting black suit he wore accentuated the leanness and strength of his body, while locks of silver hair at his temples gave him an aristocratic edge. Although he clearly wasn’t a nobleman.

The Count de Gramont felt tense as he watched his visitor’s movements, not knowing what to expect next.

“Your Lordship,” the old man bowed. “Madame...”

“Welcome to our home,” said Heinrich as he stood up from the table. Turning to Catherine, he said: “My dear, allow me to introduce Pascal Legrand of the golden hundred.”

While Catherine frowned in confusion, apparently trying to remember where she’d heard this name before, the count continued:

“Please, Monsieur Legrand... My wife, the Countess Catherine de Gramont.”

“An honor,” said the head of the “Legrand and Sons” trading house in a noticeably nonchalant manner as he took a seat in the proffered armchair.

“Wine?” The count asked.

“I don’t have much time, Your Lordship,” replied the merchant coldly.

“Then let’s get down to business,” said Heinrich amicably. “I’m eager to find out what a merchant of the golden hundred could possibly want with me.”

“I’ve heard about your predicaments,” explained Legrand. “And I know who precisely is the source of these problems.”

“I know all that already,” Heinrich nodded calmly. “My nephew. Your grandson. He, precisely, is the scoundrel responsible for all the woes that have beset my family.”

Catherine was startled, and suddenly stood up a little bit straighter.

Muscles began to twitch on Legrand’s face.

“I’ve never considered that bastard to be my grandson,” he replied angrily. “And it so happens that he’s done just as much damage to my family as he has to yours. That’s why I’m here today.”

“What do you mean, exactly?” Heinrich leaned forward a little bit.

“To combine our efforts and destroy this bastard,” Pascal Legrand hissed through gritted teeth.

* * *

Somewhere on the outskirts of the capital...

As she regained consciousness, Lucille realized that she was lying naked on a cold, hard surface. Her arms and legs were tightly tied, and her lips were bound with a dense fabric that prevented her from screaming or pronouncing any spells.

A dense silence filled the air around her, broken only by the sound of her heavy breathing. The light from the lone candle next to her legs wasn’t enough for her to tell where exactly she was.

She tried to concentrate, to summon her strength, but something was preventing her. As she looked down, Lucille noticed a steel amulet shaped like a black spider, whose body was filled with a black brut that was pressed tightly against her chest. This amulet was the source of the dark aura that was blocking all Lucille’s magical abilities. As the full horror of her situation dawned on her, the witch began writhing around furiously, moaning and grunting.

The amulet seemed to come alive as Lucille’s body was enveloped by a surge of weakness. The black spider was greedily sucking up her life force. Having realized this, Lucille stopped moving and lay still. The spider immediately stopped feeding.

The witch let out a heavy sigh and squeezed her eyelids shut. Hot tears trickled down her cheeks. A moment later, she ground her teeth together; this time, though, she did it out of anger at herself. She was one of the oldest daughters in the coven. How did she manage to stumble so far up shit creek, and so stupidly? After all, as she recollected the events of the previous day, Lucille couldn’t help but admit that the ambush had been so crude that even a child could have sensed something was wrong. Let alone a witch, even if she was one of the youngest and weakest in the coven...

Maybe that was the trick, though? Maybe that was the key to her captors’ genius plan? Primitive, rushed, but efficient at the same time.

The fat merchant looked like easy pickings to Lucille. Oh, the way he was devouring her with his piggish little eyes when he showed up in her shop! Every one of his fat little fingers had a ring with a big gemstone on it. The gold chain around his neck was so thick it could’ve held back a wolfhound. And the way he threw his money around! Lucille couldn’t resist the opportunity to line her own pockets at the expense of this idiot.

The merchant ordered several vials of sleeping potion and asked that they be delivered to his mansion in the New Capital. What could go wrong? For the first time in her long life, Lucille’s intuition let her down.

The last thing the witch could remember was walking quietly up to the heavy oaken back door of the merchant’s home, holding her basket in hand. She was expecting to leave with the basket full to bursting with money and jewelry from the gullible merchant, but as soon as she walked in she found herself immersed in darkness, and almost immediately felt something heavy crash down onto her head.

“Awake?” A happy voice asked from out in the darkness. It sounded like it belonged to a young woman.

“Who are you?” Lucille croaked once an invisible hand had torn the gag out of her mouth. “Where am I?”

“That doesn’t matter anymore,” the stranger giggled, still hidden in the shadows.

“Do you know who I am?” Lucille hissed with menace in her voice. “My sisters are already looking for me! And when they come for you, you’ll curse the day you were born!”

“I’m very scared,” said the witch mockingly. “You’re so funny. You think Madleyn gives a shit about you?”

Lucille was startled.

“What do you want?” The witch asked, refocusing on the situation at hand immediately. “We can negotiate here.”

“Hee-hee...” The stranger giggled; her laugh seemed to be coming from all sides at once. “Pff, witches... You’re all so predictable.”

Lucille gulped in panic. Her eyes darted feverishly around the room, trying to discern something in the darkness. Suddenly, the witch sensed that someone else was present in the room.

“Sister Fria.” The furtive, devious-sounding male voice that spoke in the darkness sent a chill down Lucille’s spine.

“Brother Valdar, just in time.”

Lucille was already beginning to guess whose hands she had fallen into, but hearing this short dialogue removed all remaining doubts. These were priests. And judging by their accents, they were northerners. So this woman was one of those who worshiped that disgusting ice demon.

“Has she said anything yet?” The one called Brother Valdar asked.

“We’ve only just started,” Sister Fria giggled. “But she’s already tried negotiating.”

“Witches...” Brother Valdar snorted contemptuously. “Nothing changes.”

“But I really do want to negotiate!” Lucille jerked back on the cold, hard surface. “Let me go, and I’ll tell you everything.”

“Silly girl.” The man’s evil-sounding laugh seemed to be coming from right above the witch’s head. “You’re going to tell us everything anyway.”

Lucille heard a quiet snap of the fingers. Her dry throat responded with an involuntary, unbearably loud gulp. An instant later, the darkness around her transformed into several distinct black shadows. At first, she thought that she would finally catch sight of her captors, but then she realized what exactly was happening in the darkness.

She bit down on her lip and began to writhe around with renewed vigor, like a little fly caught in a massive spider web. This Brother Valdar was no simple priest! He was a soulcatcher! And these five gloomy silhouettes were his shade attendants.

“Well, let’s get to work,” said the soulcatcher. “Start questioning, Sister Fria.”

Trembling all over and breathing heavily, Lucille heard a rustle from somewhere off to her right. Suddenly, a pretty woman’s face appeared from above her, framed in a deep hood. Lucille was struck by the color of the woman’s eyes. At first they were gray, like two little icebergs, but suddenly her eyelids twitched and they changed color. Like two pieces of lazurite, one of which was a dark blue, the other of which was a light lilac purple.

At that point, Lucille realized that this “woman” wasn’t a human at all. And she wasn’t shadow gifted, either... Neither true gifted nor first-born... She was something else. More powerful and dangerous.

The witch tried to speak, but couldn’t. Something was pressing on her throat. It dawned on Lucille at that point that this was the end... She would not be escaping the clutches of these beasts alive...

“Shut up and listen to my first question,” Fria hissed, various shades of blue flashing in her eyes. “How did that young spellsword who recently visited your shop manage to summon such a powerful Guard?”

* * *

Herouxville. New Capital

The “Fox Den”

“You have a guest.” The nisse’s voice forced me to turn away from studying my diagram. There were dozens of new portraits, complete with lines connecting them to one another.

I was also making more frequent visits to the basement because I needed time to be alone with my thoughts. The castle had grown too noisy for me.

A little social circle was already forming around Princess Sophia, united apparently by common interests. At first it was just Kevin, staring at my “distant relative” with his puppy dog eyes. Then another “distant cousin,” Alain Bouchard, joined the circle after being delivered to the castle by Isabelle Legrand, followed by Valerie, who moved in just a few days ago.

The Viscountess de Gramont behaved somewhat haughtily at first, but with each passing day, Sophia-Verena was slowly but surely wearing her down. And she was doing it without Valerie noticing, quite naturally and inconspicuously. By the end of the week, I noticed that Valerie and Sophia would often stroll the gardens together, chatting amicably. They were always followed by Kevin and Alain, who might as well have been their devoted pages.

Watching the whole scene with intense attention, Bertrand noted that ancient blood always made its presence known. Even if the bearer of that blood changed their entire persona and appearance.

By the way — my cousin didn’t know anything about why his mother had been shipped off to the convent of the Most Luminous Mother. He was told only that she needed to spend some time in prayer, and that she was fulfilling some kind of vow.

When he was informed that he would be coming to live with his heroic cousin for a little while, Alain was almost overwhelmed by the flood of feelings this provoked in him. That, at least, was what he told Bertrand, who came to meet him at the entrance to the castle on the day he moved in.

The atmosphere was further enlivened by Jean-Claude Sylvain, who was at the castle almost day and night. In carrying out my order for a new wardrobe for Valerie, the tailor seemed to have played a significant role in bringing the viscountess and Princess Sophia closer together. The same was true of my jeweler. After all, picking out jewelry and outfits was much easier and more fun in the company of another young noblewoman like herself.

Besides everyday housework, I was spending a lot of time on construction in the merchants’ district. The first-born were already settled in the district, and they weren’t letting me down. The construction firms Monsieur Dormal had hired suddenly became a lot more productive. Although we had to break off our agreements with some of them when we discovered that their leadership was complicit in theft of building materials.

The merchants’ district as a whole began to regain a noticeable degree of vitality. Besides the construction, this was also thanks to the fact that there were more police patrols in the neighborhood than there used to be. And that wasn’t even counting Tom Davies’ unit, which was nearly twice as big as it had been at first. By that point, Jacques also had more than twenty soldiers under his command.

I wanted to get the system up and running as quickly as possible, and in such a way that it could function on its own in my absence. And slowly but surely, it was happening.

“A guest?” I repeated as I glanced at the nisse, whose eyes were alive with sparks of excitement.

“Yes,” she replied. “She really wants to talk to you. And I advised you to listen to what she has to say.”

“Oh really?” I grunted. “I’m guessing this isn’t a human, then?”

“You’ll see for yourself,” said Itta as she trotted back up the stairs.

By the time I stepped back out of the stairwell into my office and closed the secret hatch, the nisse was nowhere to be seen. She appeared a few minutes later, leading another creature about her same height into the room behind her — right through the wall.

Hm... A first-born. Judging by her youthful face and her anxious expression, this was the same “young whippersnapper” the first-born elders told me about.

“This is Ignia,” the nisse introduced the first-born. “She’s a fayret.”

I nodded, concealing my considerable surprise. It just so happened that I had heard of fayrets before. These creatures could control fire.

Ignia’s skin emanated a faint golden glow, and her eyes glowed a deep scarlet color like smoldering coals. Her expression seemed to be challenging me, and yet was full of hope at the same time.

The fayret’s long, bright-red hair was woven back into several small braids that wrapped around her head like fiery snakes and created the illusion of fire dancing in the wind above her.

As far as I could remember from Vadoma’s legends, the fayret were the descendants of fire spirits. Fire wasn’t just their element, it was a continuation of their very souls, as well as being a weapon and a defense.

“Peace be upon you, Ignia of the line of the Flame Spirits,” I said in witching tongue. “What brings you to my home?”

My greeting seemed to unnerve the guest event more. The fire in her eyes grew brighter. She stood up straighter. I almost thought I had said something wrong, but a quick glance at the satisfied look on the nisse’s face told me that I had fully justified the first-born’s expectations.

Ignia leaned forward and quickly stammered:

“Peace be upon you as well, auring. I’ve come to serve you!”

I felt my eyebrows rise. This was interesting. This fayret didn’t seem to be a fan of long negotiations. I glanced at the nisse, feeling surprised. She, however, just nodded, with a cunning smile on her face.

“But why?” I asked, giving full voice to what I was thinking. “What will your elders say?”

“I’m a free fayret!” Ignia exclaimed as she thrust her chin proudly into the air. “And I’ve already decided what I want to do. It just remains for you to decide. Do you accept our service?”

“Hold on,” I frowned. “Did you say “our services?”“

“Yes,” nodded Ignia. “Selina and Vaira want to serve you too!”

“She didn’t come alone,” Itta explained as her mouth spread into a smile again. “She has a lunari and an efirel with her.”

“Invite them in,” I nodded. I had heard a lot about these creatures, too. The former were somehow connected to the moon, and the latter were the descendants of wind spirits.

The nisse waved her hand, and two more creatures about the same height came walking in from behind the portrait just as the fayret had. They all bore a certain resemblance to one another. All light-haired and graceful.

After introducing themselves, they stood to either side of the fayret, who seemed to be the leader and main source of ideas for the trio.

I looked over at my guests for a moment, deep in thought, which made them a little nervous. Yeah, I thought... Their energy systems aren’t very big to begin with, and they’re still practically running on empty. They’ve been on a starvation diet.

I was about to try to dissuade them again, to try to talk them out of a decision that required more thought than they seemed to have given it, but the nisse (seemingly having guessed what I was about to say) spoke up first:

“Come on, already,” she said impatiently. “Make a decision. These aren’t humans! They live by different laws. And they’re already decided. Besides, considering where you’re going in the near future, beings like them will be very, very useful to you indeed.”

I sighed, held out a hand, and spoke:

“Well, if you’re already decided, then let’s shake on it.”

“Done!” The first-born responded, almost in unison, as they reached out and quickly touched the palm of my hand.

An instant later, I could feel three sizable clots of energy travel through my energy system and into each of theirs. The first-born shuddered. The fayret’s eyes bulged, and she actually fell to her knees from the sheer unexpectedness of the feeling.

Well, I thought — what did they expect? I’m an avant. My energy system was much stronger, and much changed. I was able to move much larger units of mana around. Admittedly, I was still adjusting to my new abilities, so I was trying to proceed as carefully as possible. Judging by the stunned looks on my new subordinates’ faces, though, I still hadn’t quite gotten the hang of it. That said, in addition to the surprise in their eyes, I could also see a huge surge of excitement. I could see their energy systems blossom before my eyes.

“What did you expect?” The nisse grumbled smugly as she pushed all three of them toward the portrait. “You’re not exactly stealing crumbs of mana from humans here.”

A second later, and I was alone again. But not for long. Someone knocked at the door of my office.

“Come in!” I replied.

The door opened, and Bertrand appeared on the threshold. He was holding his correspondence tray, and it was weighed down with envelopes. Ever since the ball, letters with requests, invitations to receptions, and meeting proposals had been flooding in. I nodded to Bertrand in silence to indicate that he should enter as I stood up, walked around the table, and sat down in my armchair.

“Go ahead,” I said.

As Bertrand started to read the names of the senders aloud in a monotonous voice, I was gazing absent-mindedly out the window, lost in thought about what had happened in my office just a few minutes previously. But when Bertrand read out the name of the Duke de Clairmont, I snapped out of it and held out my hand.

The Marshal of Vestonia’s message was short, laconic, and military. His secretary obviously knew their role very well. Despite the fact that it was phrased as a sort of request, so as not to insult the honor of a margrave, this message was an order. After reading it, I glanced up at Bertrand, who was watching my face anxiously.

“Well, that’s that, old friend,” I said. “In two weeks, we head off to war.”

End of Book Five