Last Life

Book 8: Chapter 2

THE SMALL-BUT-COZY OFFICE in my new home was pleasantly warm and dry. The late Jacques Sarreaux — or whatever the real name of the Order’s Atalian spy had been — certainly hadn’t neglected life’s creature comforts.

His two-story mansion, located just a block away from Gondreville’s City Hall, boasted a small, well-kept garden, a wine cellar, a terrace, and a tall stone fence surrounding the property. And now, all of that belonged to me. As a respected citizen, I had the right to own land and a house inside the city. And I took full advantage of that right. Jacques Sarreaux’s pharmacy, by the way, was located on the neighboring street, and I decided to buy that from the city as well.

Given the situation, I could have simply appropriated all the false pharmacist’s property for myself without paying for any of it, but I didn’t want to start my “career” as a respected citizen off by screwing the city out of a little bit of property.

I made the purchase in strict accordance with all of Gondreville’s rules and laws, although I also accepted whatever discounts and considerations the city council was willing to offer me. Basically, I ended up paying little more than a token sum. The citizens appreciated what I had done for them, and they obviously lived by the rule that one good turn deserves another.

I gave Gunnar total carte-blanche when it came to staffing the place, so he assigned a recently-hired servant to oversee the house — but only after first making sure that the man met all of Bertrand’s extremely-high standards. Besides me, Gunnar, Aelira, Sigurd, Leo von Grimm, and the first-born, there were also four other people living in the mansion. These included a cook, a young footman, and a middle-aged maid and her husband. The latter performed various roles — manservant, groom, stoker, and gardener, to name just a few.

The “Savages” and the legionaries who had come with me to Gondreville were housed according to their social status. Nobles and officers were permitted to rent homes or apartments, while the rank-and-file soldiers lived in the city barracks.

There was a huge fire burning steadily in the maw of the office’s oversized fireplace, which provided a nice contrast to the sheets of rain pouring down on the cobblestones outside. The downpour had started a week before, and continued more or less constantly ever since.

Opposite the fireplace, on a bearskin rug that covered most of the floor, sat Ignia, with her legs crossed atop her lap. The fayret was staring pensively into the flickering tongues of flame, swaying ever so slightly from side to side.

The efirel, meanwhile, had taken a seat on the windowsill. She sat there motionless, eyes closed, fully absorbed in the howling, whistling fury of the elements outside. The lunari was curled up in a ball atop a daybed next to the wall, sleeping sweetly.

Lorin was sitting next to another window, fussing over Leo von Grimm’s saddle. The hejdelf was muttering something quietly to himself as he worked. It actually sounded pretty melodious. Maybe it was some kind of song; maybe it was a spell.

As I stood there, in the company of all my first-born friends, I realized that the decision to winter in the valley had been the right one. No matter how much I might want to get to my Margraviate, I knew the trip there wouldn’t be an easy one. It would require careful preparation. And that’s exactly what we were working on.

Seated at a huge, rectangular table, deep in a pile of papers, was Hans Krause. Every so often, he would scratch something across one of the papers with his quill. He was doing a lot more of this sort of work now, ever since I had appointed him seneschal about two weeks before — an appointment for which he had made the trip to Gondreville from the Sapphire Citadel.

With his sharp mind, excellent organizational abilities, and well-honed analytical skills (not to mention his personable nature and simple common sense), Hans was probably better suited for the role than anyone else I knew. Sometimes, it actually seemed like this energetic man could literally be in multiple places at once. Actually, though, there was nothing mystical or supernatural about it. Hans simply had a good eye for good people, and most importantly, he knew how to use them when he found them.

“How are things at the Citadel?” I asked.

At that point, my forces comprised almost 3,500 soldiers, a figure that didn’t include the mass of noncombatants who always come flocking to follow an army. Most of that force was being quartered in the Sapphire Citadel. Not counting the “Savages,” all I had with me in Gondreville was one cohort of Mertonians and mountain men. Baron Hilaire Reese was in command of the Citadel.

Hans tore his eyes away from his records, ran his prosthetic hand across his eyebrows, and replied:

“It was pretty simple with the mountain men and the people from the valleys. We just sent them back home for the winter. No point having them eat through our supplies. Let their families feed them for the time being. Especially since they all went home with a nice share of the spoils. They’ll start coming back at the beginning of spring.” Hans chuckled, then added: “But I wouldn’t be surprised if we see a lot more people come trying to join Your Lordship’s colors by that point. I can only imagine the look on the headmen’s faces when their men come back home with those trophies. I’m sure there’ll be a lot of weddings this winter...”

“What about the rest of the men? Any problems getting them settled?”

“No, Your Lordship,” my seneschal replied. “The Mertonians are disciplined men, and Baron Reese certainly doesn’t tolerate any games either.”

“Provisions and supplies?” I moved on to my next question.

“Hunger won’t be threatening us this winter,” Hans assured me. “We’ve bought up a good stock of supplies for the spring campaign. People have been eager to sell us provisions and fodder in the towns. And we negotiated some excellent deals. The main task now is just keeping it all safe. There are a lot of rodents in the Citadel at the moment.”

I glanced at Lorin. Sensing my glance, the hejdelf grumbled a reply without looking up from his work:

“Don’t worry... I said I’d take care of it.”

Vaira and Ignia perked up immediately. For them, this meant that the period of autumnal boredom would soon be at an end, and sooner or later they’d be off to the Citadel to plunge into battle against the rats.

Hans smiled with satisfaction and made a little note in his papers. He and Lorin were already well acquainted, but Hans had only recently started working with the first-born; slowly but surely, he was introducing them to a whole plethora of different tasks.

“I should point out that your decision to allow your prisoners to return home has really helped slow down our consumption of provisions,” said Hans. “Heh... We actually managed to halve our wine consumption, then halve it again. It’s just a shame that most of those nobles will never keep their word and bring you the ransoms they promised.”

“And they could well end up dying of disease or duels before they have a chance anyway,” I nodded. “Nothing we can do about that.”

“Agh...” Hans sighed. “Your pocketbook will mourn them more bitterly than anyone else.”

“Well, it depends how you look at it,” I shrugged. “Ever heard the story of King Robert the Good?”

“No,” Hans shook his head.

“After the Shadow fell over Mainland, a war broke out over the so-called “clean” territories that were left. Many royal families, together with their kingdoms, ended up on the wrong side of the Barrier, so it was only natural that a redistribution of lands and power would take place at some point.”

Hans nodded; a smile of understanding spread across his face. Meanwhile, I continued relating my little historical anecdote, which I had read in one of the books in the Fox Den’s secret basement.

“Basically, the constant slaughter between the Lords of the Foggy Isles is just a continuation of the story of Robert the Good,” I said.

Judging by the expression on his face, my story had piqued my new seneschal’s interest. Generally speaking, there was very little information available about those times. If there were any serious historical works that survived, they were probably squirreled away in the private libraries of the aristocracy. Naturally, common people wouldn’t have had a prayer of accessing them. As a result, pretty much everything that the masses knew about those times came in the form of legends and fairy tales.

“The Foggy Isles used to form a single, unified Kingdom. Robert the Good was its last King,” I continued. “When the struggle for land erupted on the continent, he decided to get involved as well. He landed with an army in the southwest of what’s now Vestonia and gradually started conquering the cities of the coast. The son of the local Duke who owned those lands gathered an army from among his vassals and set off to face the invaders. King Robert the Good not only lost the ensuing battle, but also ended up getting captured by the Duke’s son. After a little while, the King set off for his home on the Isles once again, having given his word that he would return with his ransom as soon as he could collect it. Alas — he never managed to get the money together. So, in order to keep his word, he had to return to the continent and spend the rest of his life in the Vestonian Duke’s captivity. Meanwhile, his Kingdom was devastated by the effects of the failed campaign and the inept rule of the King’s heir, and as a result it slowly descended into the chaos that’s plagued the Isles ever since.”

I stood up and walked over to the window where Vaira was sitting. Raindrops were drumming against the glass. The veil of water was so thick that I could barely make out the silhouettes of the wet houses, tiled roofs, and leafless trees across the street.

“The author of the book where I read about this little historical episode concluded that King Robert the Good’s fate was a sad one — tragic, actually,” I continued, still staring out at the gloomy scene outside my window. “And most likely, it was... All the same, though, I certainly wouldn’t have wanted to be the Duke whose son had taken the King prisoner. Just imagine what it must have cost him to maintain a prisoner like that.”

“That’s true enough, Your Lordship,” snickered Hans. “There’s no way a King would have any fewer than fifty people at his side — much more likely, it would’ve been at least a hundred members of his court and their retinues. The Duke would have had to keep the whole pack fed and housed right up until the King’s death. And we’re not talking about peasants, either. They’d have needed hunts, balls, expensive wines...”

“That’s exactly what I mean,” I said as I walked back to my desk and sat down in my armchair. “All the money it would have cost me to keep those Atalian aristocrats prisoner is now free for me to use on much more important projects. I have no intention of feeding and entertaining a bunch of idle mouths. Even if only a third of them end up coming back with their ransoms, I’ll still come out ahead. And it won’t do any harm to my honor as a nobleman either way. They’ll have to live with the knowledge that their captured banners are hanging in my hall of glory. By the way — I understand the situation with the aristocrats, but what about the common prisoners? Did you and Selina finish your selection?”

“Yes,” nodded Hans. “We found about 300 people in the Atalian legions who are both willing to serve with us AND whose loyalty we felt could be trusted. To be honest, though, almost none of them are actually Atalian. They’re mostly recruits from the Free Principalities and Baronies. The rest of the prisoners have already been distributed throughout the cities as you ordered, to help repair the destruction the Golden Lion and his legions caused...”

With that, Hans fell silent and frowned. He obviously had something else to say, but he couldn’t bring himself to say it.

“You can speak freely,” I encouraged him.

“I know you forbade it... But...”

“Come on,” I said. “Out with it.”

“Basically, the representatives of the city councils offered to buy these prisoners from us,” said Hans. He was staring firmly into my eyes. “They’re offering a good price. But I bet I could get them to almost double it. It would be a huge source of money, and it would take care of the problem of what to do about the prisoners — “

“No,” I said categorically. “You know perfectly well that one of the conditions on which they surrendered was the promise I gave to their commanders. I gave them my word that I would preserve their people’s lives, and that I wouldn’t sell any of them into slavery. They’ll have to repair what they destroyed, and after three years they can all go home. Tell these councillors that I have no intention of breaking my word.”

I didn’t bother explaining to Hans that my real objection was to the very idea of becoming a slave trader. He simply wouldn’t have understood. Trade in enslaved prisoners of war was a very common thing in this world, but I had no intention of adapting to that particular norm — still less any intention of changing such a fundamental feature of my own personality.

That said, Hans Krause didn’t lack a certain reasonable amount of empathy either. I was confident that my seneschal would let the matter drop, and that there would be no further talk of selling prisoners of war into slavery.

“Understood, Your Lordship,” he said.

“Any news about Kroner or Laforte?”

“According to the latest reports, Kroner’s in Romont at the moment,” replied Hans. “He’s got a lot of work to do. The Count de Rolenne’s taken a fancy to the idea of creating a legion of locals, and he’s dumped the whole burden of actually DOING that onto old Samuel’s shoulders. Laforte and his “Last Chances” recently set off to patrol the southern border with Atalia. Put another way, I guess, he decided to put some distance between himself and Rolenne’s arbitrary whims as quickly as possible.”

“I thought the Count would send him east. To pacify those rebellious Bergonians.”

“You know how Laforte is,” Hans chuckled. “He’s as slippery as an eel. I myself am very interested to hear how exactly he managed to squirm out of Rolenne’s clutches.”

I just chuckled and shook my head.

“Anything else?”

“Yes, Your Lordship,” said Hans as he wiped his brow with his prosthetic again. “A certain someone is asking for an audience with you.”

“I presume this is a pretty important someone, if he’s communicating directly through my seneschal rather than my secretary?”

“I suspect you may know his name already,” replied Hans. “It’s Aldrich van Klausen.”

“The master clockmaker who’s head of the “Klausen & Sons” trading firm?” I asked. This came as a surprise to me.

“Exactly,” nodded Hans. “You’re very well informed, Your Lordship.”

I had actually started making inquiries about the family before I even left Herouxville. It didn’t take much digging to discover that they were considered one of the richest families not only in Bergonia, but in all Mainland.

“And he’s communicating through me because I know him personally,” added Hans. “Once upon a time, van Klausen hired the “Savages” to protect one of his caravans.”

“So where is he now?”

“Here in Gondreville,” replied Hans; then, with a mischievous laugh, he added: “He’s staying in the “Owl and Jug” inn, two blocks from Your Lordship’s home.”

“By the look on your face, I’m guessing you made him wait?” I ventured a guess at what was making Hans so happy, and I turned out to be right.

“Seven days now,” Hans nodded eagerly. In a slightly more vindictive tone, he continued: “No matter, though... It’ll be good for him... He’s used to thinking he can kick open any door he likes and make everybody come running. He can wait for a little while. The Margrave de Valier has his hands full as it is.”

Seeing that I was expecting a little bit more detail, Hans quickly continued.

“To put it mildly, Aldrich van Klausen is a complicated man... I wouldn’t be at all surprised to learn that he’s descended from Dwarves on one side or the other. He’s quite unpleasant. And stingy as sin to boot. He squeezed us for every penny last time...”

“Were there problems with payment?”

“No,” Hans shook his head. “Van Klausen’s never had any problems where that’s concerned. He has a strong reputation as a man of his word. And he values that reputation very highly.”

“Then I guess I don’t understand what the problem is.”

“Let me put it like this,” Hans frowned as he tried to find the right words. “Let his teeth anywhere near your finger, and you’ll walk away missing an arm. You need to read through any contract with him very, very carefully before you sign it. And generally, you just need to be on your guard whenever Aldrich van Klausen is around. Otherwise, without even realizing it, you’ll find yourself doing twice as much as you agreed for the same money. And if you object, he’ll wave his little contract in front of your face and show you your signature. “You signed on the dotted line...”“

“Did he say what he wants from me?” I asked.

“He said he has a business proposition for you,” Hans shrugged. “He refused to tell me any more than that. Like I said: van Klausen is a complicated man.”

“What do you think? Any idea what he might have in mind?”

“No,” Hans shook his head.

“Well,” I sighed. “No point leaving him hanging any longer... Let him know I’ll see him tomorrow.”

* * *

“Good day, Your Lordship! I thank you for the gift of your time. I promise I’ll try to take up as little of it as possible.”

The man frozen in mid-bow before me was short, but I could see immediately that his boot size was even bigger than Sigurd’s.

Stocky, tough-looking, with broad hands — to be honest, a master clockmaker was the last thing he looked like. That said, everything fell into place when I switched to true vision. His dark-brown energy system, which was being fed by ten bruts that had been artfully incorporated into amulets, made it quite clear that I was standing in the presence of a Mage-Artificer. In terms of rank, he was clearly a medius, but one who was on the very threshold of attaining a new level.

“The time in my hands is perfection in every instant,” I replied with the motto of the “Klausen & Sons” trading firm. “I’m sure you’d agree with that?”

“You’ve managed to surprise me, Your Lordship!” Van Klausen’s gray eyes (which were slightly farther apart than normal) widened ever so slightly. “And I’m honored that you’re so well-informed about my business.”

Despite his friendly tone and smile, the look in Aldrich van Klausen’s eyes was icy cold, and noticeably full of disdain. Which, I might add, he wasn’t trying very hard to conceal (if he was trying at all). Yet another local magnate who considered me an upstart bastard.

A thought crossed my mind at that point: Hans was absolutely right about this guy. In fact, seven days was far too brief a delay. We should have forced him to wait another week.

“I don’t think it’s so surprising,” I said as I gestured to invite van Klausen to have a seat. “I daresay almost every self-respecting Vestonian aristocrat has a Klausen in his pocket. Brandy?”

“I wouldn’t say no,” replied Aldrich as he sat down in his armchair and asked: “So do you use our watches yourself?”

The look in his eyes suggested that I had managed to throw him off, albeit just for a moment. And he had recovered almost immediately.

“Of course,” I nodded as I rang the bell to summon Gunnar. “My favorite model is the “Harmony.” Although my first Klausen was a “Springtime.”“

“Excellent choices, Your Lordship,” replied Aldrich with a note of self-satisfaction in his voice. “Both those models were developed by my eldest son Hendrik.”

“Your son is a true creative thinker and a gifted artist,” I smiled.

Gunnar quickly appeared, carrying a tray with a bottle of dark Atalian brandy and two crystal glasses on it.

After pouring us each a glass, he quickly and silently stepped out of the room again. The entire time, Aldrich was watching his neat, practised movements with obvious approval. Bertrand would have been proud of his pupil.

“To an unexpected and pleasant meeting!” I said with a smile as I raised my glass.

“To our meeting!” Van Klausen saluted me in return.

After taking a sip, my guest closed his eyes for a moment as he savored the taste. Then he smacked his lips with satisfaction, opened his eyes, and turned to look at me with renewed interest.

“To tell you the truth, Your Lordship, I find myself slightly confused.”

“Why’s that?” I asked.

“Well, you see,” he said, narrowing his eyes a little bit as he spoke. “There’s a certain theory among watchmakers, which holds that one can tell a lot about a person based on the model of the watch they carry. And considering everything I’ve heard about you over the last few months, neither the “Harmony,” nor, still less, the “Springtime...” Ahem... Well, they would almost suggest two totally opposite personalities...”

“An interesting theory,” I said as I tilted my head to the side a little. “In fact, I propose that we conduct a little experiment. Right here and now, we’ll each show one another the watches in our pockets. I’ll try to deduce as much as I can about you, and you compare what you see with everything you’ve already heard about me. What do you say?”

“This’ll be an interesting experiment, Your Lordship,” Aldrich van Klausen smiled. “I’m in. Who’s first?”

“Well, I asked for it, so I’ll show you my watch first,” I said with a wink.

With a gentle pull on the chain, I took a small, circular, slightly-bulging piece of black Shadow metal out of the small inside pocket of my coat. Then I pressed a tiny button on its surface. The watch’s lid popped open to reveal a flash of glass.

When Aldrich van Klausen saw the watch, his eyes widened — indeed, they practically slid up onto his forehead.

And I wasn’t surprised at his reaction, either... The watch, which I had found in the secret basement of the Fox Den, was made entirely of Shadow materials.

“A magnificent specimen,” said Aldrich quietly, without tearing his spellbound eyes off the watch for a second. “And it’s in excellent condition.”

“Please,” I said as I held the watch out for him to examine. “What does it say about me?”

After he carefully took the artifact into his hands (where it looked like a tiny piece of coal against the backdrop of his huge, rough palms), Aldrich took a small folding magnifying glass out of his inner pocket and began to examine the watch.

A few minutes later, he handed the watch back to me (although the look in his eyes suggested that he wished he could have kept it) and gave a quick, laconic verdict:

“The seal is that of Liander Fellmore. End of the first century after the Shadowfall. I’d hate to be mistaken, but it reminds me quite a bit of the famous “Eclipse,” which was a one-of-a-kind watch created for Edgar II the Crusher, King of Astland. You’ve got a real treasure there, Your Lordship.”

Then, as he took his own watch out of his vest pocket and handed it to me, he added in a dry voice:

“At the very least, it helps put the puzzle together quite a bit...”

With a quick glance at his watch, I replied:

“A classic. Very similar to the “Master of Time” model, except quite a bit older. According to your theory, I might suppose that the owner of this watch is a man of refined taste, but one who is careful not to forget his traditions. He pays an enormous amount of attention to detail. He’s pragmatic, and demanding not only in his relationship to others, but also in his attitude toward himself. How’d I do?”

“Not bad at all, Your Lordship,” nodded Aldrich. “Although there’s a small clarification I’d like to make. It’s not the “Master,” but the “Summoner of Time.” This watch was created by my grandfather, and it’s one-of-a-kind. I must say, you’ve caught on to the basics of our theory very quickly.”

“Outstanding craftsmanship,” I nodded. “Actually... Your watch tells me something else in addition to all that.”

“What’s that?” Aldrich looked up at me with keen attention.

“I now know who you are and why you’ve come to see me,” I replied without any trace of a smile.

I had spotted a small, very curious energy mark on the inside surface of his watch’s lid.

My tone made Aldrich tense up.

“I’ll be honest, I was starting to think you’d never come,” I said as I leaned back on my chair. “So — what does the Sapphire Guild intend to offer me in exchange for its Citadel?”