Last Life

Book 5: Chapter 9

Herouxville. New Capital

The Duchess du Bellay’s Palace

JEANNE DU BELLAY could hardly contain her amazement at Max’s appearance. Over the last few months, her late brother’s bastard had completely changed.

Max was a grown man, broader in the shoulders and somehow seemingly taller. This was no longer the young man she first met in Heinrich’s house. Admittedly, his eyes were the same. Just as steely and appraising. And they were also somehow indifferent, as though Max already knew everything that would be said to him today, and how the conversations would end.

Conflicting rumors about his behavior up north reached the city even before Max’s return. Something about him fighting in dozens of duels, hunting shapeshifters, and even (most implausibly) hiring a former frost knight stryker as a bodyguard. At the time, that rumor intrigued Jeanne more than anything. Where did a poor bastard get so much money?

Imagine her surprise when all the stories turned out to be true...

After all, Jeanne du Bellay was never one to attach particular importance to such rumors. Which was understandable; each new one had a tendency to be more ridiculous than the last. Besides, after the news about the king’s wounding, she didn’t have much mental energy to think about what was happening in the far north.

Clouds began to gather above the capital. A sense of impending, massive change hung in the air. An invisible wave swept through all the influential houses of Vestonia and stirred each and every one of them. New alliances and coalitions began to sprout up like mushrooms after a rainstorm. Many people changed the banners outside their mansions during those days.

The de Gramont family was no exception. Even before, Heinrich had discussed the possibility of switching sides. But her brother eventually decided to wait and watch. The catalyst was the news about the Count de Blois and his attack on Lord Gray’s forest holdings.

Nobody believed that a royal stryker would wait quietly in the north while his neighbor ravaged his lands, especially since their relations had always been strained anyway. More than that, if Lord Gray had acted differently, the nobility and the king himself would have been deeply puzzled. The Duchess du Bellay couldn’t imagine any other course of events; after all, she, too, valued her line above everything else.

So for her, Lord Gray’s departure from Fjordgrad along with his retainers was inevitable. And of course that was exactly what ended up happening. Basically, the ambassadorial mission was a failure. And the color green was no longer relevant for the de Gramonts. Alas, it seemed the time had come to raise a cross above the royal ambitions of Prince Louis’ attempt to secure the throne. Without the support of the konung, the object of all his party’s hopes, Prince Louis was simply not fated to become the ruler of Vestonia.

When news of the Count de Blois’ attack reached the capital, Heinrich sent a letter to his sons with an order to return to Herouxville. In such times, the heirs to the family line were needed at home, where it was safe. Jeanne was completely in agreement with her brother on that. Especially after all the other influential backers of Prince Louis did the same. Or rather, former backers. The only people who still supported the king’s youngest son were those who had nothing to lose.

Then, however, Jeanne learned that Max was among them...

Oh, how that action enraged Heinrich. Her brother was beside himself with rage. It was direct insubordination, disobeying an order from the head of the family. But how happy Catherine was! The countess thoroughly enjoyed the storm that raged through her house.

In some sense, Jeanne could understand why. After becoming the wife of then-Viscount de Gramont, she developed a vicious envy of Margarita, Ferdinand’s wife. And when Ferdinand was executed along with his heirs, Catherine’s dreams all came true. She became a countess, and her sons became viscounts, the eldest of whom would inherit the comital rank and title.

So the sudden appearance of the bastard, previously in exile in some dump a million miles from the capital, put Catherine on guard. She was especially unnerved when Heinrich started to take an active interest in the young man’s fate. Although he hadn’t previously been planning to do so.

Her tiny brain just couldn’t comprehend the scale of her husband’s scheme. And to be fair, what more could really be expected in terms of brains? The de Seullys, the aristocratic line of Catherine’s birth, had never been known as deep thinkers. Francois certainly took after them.

At the same time, Jeanne also decided to look into Ferdinand’s bastard a little more closely; after all, he somehow managed to survive things that killed even experienced combat mages. She, too, began to pay a certain amount of attention to Max. And she thoroughly enjoyed watching her quarrelsome, arrogant sister-in-law getting angry as her pretensions were offended with ever-increasing frequency.

Admittedly, the news of Max’s decision to remain in Vintervald came as a disappointment to Jeane, and inspired a certain annoyance with her nephew’s behavior. After all, the kid had begun to show some genuine potential. Despite his tender years, Max seemed experienced and streetwise when compared to his cousins. And then there was his service to the crown. Ah, and how thoroughly lovely it was to see him take that upstart Friedrich von Herwart down a few pegs! Jeanne hadn’t felt that alive in a long time.

She even began concocting a plan to use Max to strengthen the family’s position. With time, the cutthroat could become a faithful source of support for Gabriel, the heir of the de Gramonts...

But then he went and ruined everything with that little stunt...

Recalling the conversation she had with Heinrich after her first meeting with the bastard, Jeanne du Bellay felt like she had made a mistake. At that time, she no longer felt convinced that Max had much in common with his calculating, cold-blooded uncle. The stubborn young man was a carbon copy of his late father. He, like Ferdinand “the Lion,” was clearly the type to dive headfirst into dangerous waters, waters swimming with predators who could eat a young, unknown bastard in a single bite and keep right on swimming...

Upon their return to the capital, the Duchess’ nephews only spoke of Max a little bit, and quite reluctantly. Mainly, they spoke with derision. Mind you, that was always how they spoke of him.

Jeanne understood that both of them were leaving quite a bit unsaid, and that what they did say applied differently for each of the three young men in question.

The only thing Jeanne could really glean from their stories was that for almost the entire time, they were either at the konung’s palace or at receptions hosted by foreign nobility who had come for the Great Trial. In other words, they barely crossed paths with their cousin at all.

She remembered how Francois jerked his chin proudly into the air and declared that while the insolent bastard was off doing God knows what, he and his brother were making valuable acquaintances and connections for the family.

When the Duchess, who knew very well what her nephews had truly been up to at the feasts and receptions, asked her nephew to give specifics on what contacts and acquaintances he was referring to, and how exactly they would be of use to the family, Catherine immediately interceded on behalf of her beloved offspring.

With surprising deftness, she changed the subject of conversation back to “the lazy, hopeless bastard,” who, while his cousins were working diligently to strengthen the family’s position on the international stage, was busy dedicating himself to duels and the pleasures of the flesh.

Then, a little while later, news arrived that Max would be taking part in the tournament after the abrupt departure of Lord Gray’s embassy. Without a doubt, this meant that her dearly departed brother’s last remaining son had just signed his own death warrant.

The news made the countess sad. Don’t for a second imagine that she actually felt bad for the stupid bastard. She merely regretted the time they’d all wasted on the ungrateful young man. And she was also angry at herself for having made such a mistake. The fact that Heinrich sniffed out her little scheme with apparent ease made her even angrier. Every time they met, he would try to rub salt into the wound by reminding her of her mistake.

Basically, Jeanne and the other members of the family considered Max to be dead and buried...

So imagine their surprise when the bastard came back from the dead. And the way he’d done it, too! He actually won the Great Trial, and came back to the capital at the head of a unit of cutthroats and a caravan of several wagons, all heavily loaded with loot. More than that — immediately after returning to Herouxville, he gave Catherine a veritable flick on the nose when she tried to have all the bastard’s property moved out of the mansion without informing her husband.

Max’s unspeakable behavior left Catherine burning with righteous fury, and she proceeded to unleash a torrent of complaints about the “insolent bastard” onto her husband via letter.

Knowing her sister-in-law’s vindictive, quarrelsome nature, Jeanne never missed an opportunity to rub Henri’s nose in it. Catherine would do anything for her children. Especially for her darling Francois, who had suffered more than anyone else from Max’s actions.

Well, Jeanne thought — Heinrich has only himself to blame. A blind man could see that he deliberately set Gabriel and Francois against Max, like purebred hunting dogs against some street mongrel. He wanted to help them develop self-confidence. Bare their teeth. Feel what it’s like to be bigger and more important than others. But the mongrel turned out to be a fearsome predator.

And now, she thought, here he is — Max has come to the family council, where Heinrich is going to declare his will and consider it law. Catherine, the stupid old bat, thought of this as being her doing, but Jeanne knew that her brother’s decision was motivated first and foremost by the difficult situation facing the family.

Heinrich desperately needed money. Ferdinand had mismanaged their father’s inheritance right into the ground. He’d gotten into debt and lost part of the family lands. And now his brother was looking for a way to rectify the family’s position.

No surprises there, mind you — Jeanne wasn’t going through the greatest time either. The Duke de Bauffremont’s response to her visit was very cold. He hadn’t forgotten her refusal to support Prince Philippe.

She had her motives for that at the time. The de Gramonts were among the most prominent supporters of Prince Louis, while among the “reds” the best they could hope for were scraps from the table.

The Duchess du Bellay had incurred a wide variety of expenses, chickens that were now coming home to roost. The situation on her lands was out of control. To add to it all, a certain Zacharias Beron appeared out of nowhere with his promissory notes, according to which she owed 5,000 gold imperials. In better times, forking over 50,000 silver crowns wouldn’t have been such a huge burden for the Duchess du Bellay. But now... As if to spite her, those miserly Craonnes refused to extend her credit.

To top off the whole miserable pile, the Duchess du Bellay fell on the stairs the night before, landing on her right arm. Maitre Lemesier, the healer-mage who always provided such services to her, couldn’t come, and neither could any of his colleagues of good repute. They were all busy with the king.

Even less-famous healers weren’t available. They were all suddenly extremely busy. The Duchess du Bellay had to summon an ordinary doctor, who gave her a scarlet potion, rubbed a special healing balm on her hand, and applied a dressing to the wound.

The night passed without incident, but by morning the Duchess’ arm was as swollen as if she’d plunged it into a wasps’ nest. The scarlet potion didn’t completely kill the pain — apparently, that quack doctor had sold her an elixir made of low-potency magic dust. Also, and again as if to spite her, all her personal stocks of healing potions happened to have run out. Who could’ve guessed that Maitre Lemesier, always so punctilious and ready to come at his noble client’s call, would be unavailable?

All things considered, it wasn’t at all surprising that Jeanne du Bellay was (to put it mildly) not in a great mood.

After greeting everyone present, Max took a seat and threw one leg up onto the other.

Not a muscle moved on Heinrich’s face, but Jeanne knew her brother too well. He’d been putting up with teasing from his older brother and cousins since early childhood, and hiding his emotions was one weapon in his arsenal against them. He knew that if he stopped crying, he thereby deprived those who were mocking him of their fun.

Gradually, Henri had developed this ability until it became part of his life. Emotions were a weakness. He always said as much.

And now, beneath the mask of indifference, Jeanne could see the Count de Gramont’s fury.

“How am I to understand this?” Heinrich asked in an icy tone instead of a greeting, as his eyes burned into the bastard.

“Whatever do you mean, uncle?” Max asked, sounding genuinely bewildered.

Jeanne could see, however, that the confusion was feigned. He knew exactly what his uncle was talking about. And she also knew that he wasn’t the least bit afraid of Heinrich.

“You attacked my people and took them prisoner,” said the count. “How am I to understand this?”

Catherine, the stupid old bat, was loving it all. This was her moment of triumph. For what felt like the millionth time, Jeanne cursed the day her brother was betrothed to this blithering idiot.

“As it happens, uncle, I didn’t immediately realize that they were your people,” Max replied calmly. “The first thought that occurred to me when I saw that the gates of my mansion were open was that I was being robbed. What would you have thought if you were in my place? If you’d seen people who were armed to the teeth loading your furniture, paintings, and other goods into wagons?”

Red spots broke out all over Catherine’s face. She glared hatefully at the bastard. Heinrich, by contrast, was waiting in silence for the young man to continue. Jeanne understood that, as usual, he was merely biding his time. Giving his “victim” time to say their piece.

“I ordered my people to put a stop to the outrage, but also forbade them from killing anyone,” Max replied.

“But you later learned that they were my people?” The count asked patiently.

“Yes, uncle,” came Max’s eager reply.

“Then why didn’t you release them?”

“I released a few of them,” Max objected. “Your retainers. Although I had every right to order them killed.”

Catherine twitched, and turned to look at her spouse in shock. Her eyes seemed to be asking a question: what more proof do you need?

Jeanne, meanwhile, was waiting with bated breath, anticipating an interesting scene. Even the pain in her hand took a backseat to her excitement at that point.

“Kill my retainers?” Heinrich asked, slowly and without raising his voice. His right eyebrow rose slightly.

“Yes,” replied Max. “They came onto my property bearing arms, and even drew them against me. By law, I’d have been within my rights to kill them. Although to be honest, uncle, you’ve let them grow quite soft. There’s a war going on. There are enemies of the family around every corner. And your retainers seem to have forgotten which end of the sword to hold.”

“By law?” Heinrich repeated in an icy tone. “Who do you think you are? That land belongs to the family, and as the head thereof that land is at my disposal!”

“Formally,” said Max as he shook his head, “that might be the case. But not legally. According to the documents that the royal chancery has verified, the castle known as the “Fox Den” belongs to me. Actually, it’s always been mine. And anyway, didn’t you give it to me yourself?”

“You vile bastard!” Catherine shrieked. “How dare you oppose the head of the family and raise hands against his people?! You have no right to that land whatsoever! Your traitor father betrayed the crown, and his own family as well!”

Max didn’t even glance at the countess. He acted as though she weren’t even present in the hall.

Jeanne could see Heinrich frown slightly at his spouse’s outburst

“Well, I gave it, and now I’ll take it away,” her brother continued. “Or would you move against the family? Believe me, I have no lack of trained people who could come and reclaim that pitiful castle for me. But if I had to do that, your life wouldn’t be worth so much as an obol.”

“I readily believe it, uncle,” answered Max. “But the real question is how the enemies of our family will react when they learn of our internal conflict. After all, my actions were specifically calculated to make it all look like an innocent misunderstanding. I even took the liberty of punishing some of your less-conscientious servants for their malice.”

“What do you mean?” Jeanne asked immediately, getting ahead of Heinrich who was obviously intending to continue his threats. “I completely agree that this was merely a misunderstanding, and that any superfluous disclosure can only harm us. Your uncle’s people only came to your castle because we were certain you had died. What malintent could there possibly have been?”

“A certain Bruno Foulon, who was in charge of the loading process, along with some of the people in his company, were already aware that I was alive and well. And that I was on my way home. The fact is that I sent one of my servants ahead of me to alert my butler, more than a full day in advance of our arrival.”

“Perhaps your servant never arrived?” Jeanne asked.

“Oh, he arrived, alright,” Max shook his head. “I found him beaten half to death in the stables, together with my guard and butler, who also endured rough treatment at the hands of your retainers. Thus it seems that even after being informed of my imminent arrival, Bruno Foulon didn’t even consider it necessary to inform his master. What could this be, if not malintent? I’d prefer not to imagine that he might have informed the person who sent him, and then continued with his robbery anyway.”

As before, Max was completely ignoring the countess’ presence in the hall; her face had the color of a boiled beet. Jeanne knew that Catherine’s servants wouldn’t dare to act so boldly without her approval and full knowledge, but ordered the loading of his possessions to continue anyway. What a stupid old fool she was! Blind to her own son’s foolishness, she had almost provoked a conflict within the family. Jeanne understood very well how that would have turned out.

And judging by the look on Heinrich’s face, he realized all of this as well. But Jeanne also understood that her brother would never move against his own wife in public. He would give her a piece of his mind later, when they were alone, but not now. Especially since Heinrich was already determined that the bastard needed to be reined in. He’d become far too headstrong.

“You must return my son’s collection to him!” Catherine shrieked angrily.

“Actually, speaking of collections,” said Max, still completely ignoring her. “Uncle, please pass on a new item for Yveline’s collection with my compliments.”

Saying this, he laid a curved, black claw the size of a dagger down on the table.

“That’s...” Jeanne trailed off; her voice was suddenly hoarse.

“That’s the claw of the shadow bear I killed in the final battle of the Great Trial. I’m sure Yveline will love it. This is one of the very claws the beast used to dismember several powerful strykers.”

Jeanne understood that this was a demonstration of her nephew’s power. He was showing her brother just how much things had changed. And then, suddenly, it occurred to Jeanne that the whole time they’d been sitting there, Max’s attention was focused exclusively on her reactions. Everything he said and did was aimed at her.

Jeanne felt her insides turn cold. Max didn’t care about Heinrich, his wife, or his children. He had come to see her. He saw her as an ally.

She quickly glanced at her brother and his wife. No... They hadn’t noticed. They had no clue.

“Why didn’t you come back to Herouxville?” Heinrich asked another question as he looked down squeamishly at the claw. To the untrained eye, it might have seemed like he was no longer bothered by the fact that his servants had been taken prisoner, but Jeanne knew that he wasn’t finished with that matter quite yet. “After all, you received a clear order to do so.”

“Really?” Max asked with surprise. “Apparently your letter failed to reach me.”

“Gabriel must have informed you of my orders!”

“I don’t remember my cousin being appointed head of the embassy,” Max shrugged.

“He informed you of the family’s will!” The countess hissed.

To be honest, Jeanne had never seen her sister-in-law in such a state before. If she knew how to spit poison, Max would already have been rolling on the floor in dying convulsions.

“On what authority?” Finally, Max turned his head to face Catherine and looked firmly into her eyes. “Only the head of the family can declare its will. I didn’t receive an order in writing. Without one, Prince Louis would have regarded my departure as little more than running away. Had I abandoned the son of the king — whom I swore to accompany on his journey — and galloped south with my noble cousins, I would have brought everlasting shame onto myself and my family.”

At that moment, Jeanne de Bellay regretted more than ever that this young man was illegitimate. It was people like him who had always stood at the head of her ancient line and led it to its triumphs.

A deafening silence hung in the hall for a minute. Jeanne glanced at her brother. The expression on Heinrich’s face told her very clearly that he was no longer interested in continuing the conversation. She could see that her brother was already prepared to say his final word. To pronounce a final verdict regarding Max and his fate.

The silence was finally broken by Heinrich de Gramont’s heavy, colorless voice.

“Well... I’ve heard enough for today. As the head of the family, I’ve made a decision. You will wed Aurélie de Marbot. And you will thereby become the Baron de Marsan. Since your future spouse is of a higher status than you, your marriage will make you a Marbot. The head of that line is the Count de Marbot, and after his death it will be his son, Émile de Marbot. If you fail to comply, you will be exiled from this house. This is my final word on the subject.”

Heinrich stood up, signaling to all present that the family council was over. He said goodbye to Jeanne, wishing her a speedy recovery. Then, offering his arm to his spouse without so much as a glance back at his nephew (who was frozen mid-bow), he strode majestically out of the hall.

Max stood in silence the whole time. Not a muscle moved on his face. As Jeanne expected, he didn’t look surprised or upset in the least.

He was already about to bid her farewell when Jeanne raised her healthy arm into the air and said:

“Stay. We have something to discuss.”