Valkyrie's Shadow

Before the Storm: Act 7, Chapter 8

Chapter 8

“Liam, we need to move.”

“What’s going on?” Liam asked.

“This crowd is attracting flies,” Olin said. “If we don’t get out of here, we’re going to be neck-deep in…distractions.”

The Eight Fingers executive cast a disparaging look at the men gathered along the edges of the town’s high street. Several groups of them had formed, most looking half asleep or hung over. It took a moment for Liam to realise that they were the ‘retainers’ of the minor Nobles that had been corralled into Beaumont.

“Alright,” Liam nodded, “let’s get out of here.”

Liam guided Claire to the wagon in the middle of the caravan, upon which Countess Beaumont sat amidst the baggage from Reed’s squad. Several lengths of lumber, some coils of rope, and an oiled tarp lying on the wagon bed looked about as far as they had gotten with their attempt to make the vehicle more suitable for passengers.

“Countess Beaumont,” Liam said as he fell into step behind the wagon, “this is Claire. She’s agreed to work as your Maid.”

The Countess tried to push herself to her feet, but a bump on the road knocked her back onto her rump. She tried to ignore the incident while awkwardly extending a hand.

Claire meekly bobbed her head. Liam gave her a nudge.

“You’re going to have to familiarise Claire with what she has to do, my lady,” he said. “That won’t be a problem right?”

“It shouldn’t be,” the Countess replied, “so long as she listens. Come and join me, Claire.”

The wagon wasn’t moving very quickly, but it was somehow still a challenge getting the girl on board. Liam opened the back of the wagon, and, after Claire made several failed attempts to get on, Liam picked her up and tossed her in. The girl landed on the wagon bed with a squeak. Countess Beaumont gave him a cool look.

What?

Liam retreated before something happened to him. He went to join Reed, who was accompanying the wagon a few dozen steps to the side.

“We had to move before the Nobles woke up,” Liam said.

“I saw.”

“What were you doing with the wagon?”

“We were going to suspend a canvas over the wagon,” Reed replied, “but we got chased off because we were tracking mud on the wagon bed.”

“Oh. How hard is it to set up?”

“Not very. Just need to tie everything together. Anything else you wanted us to do?”

“Yeah. Come help me with the wagon. We can talk about it while we finish setting it up.”

Liam mentally reviewed the instructions that Lady Wagner had given him. She made everything sound so straightforward and everything had worked out so far, but he still harboured doubts over each step. Back at the wagon, Claire was moving bags around at the Countess’ direction. They both looked up at him when he hopped onto the back. The Countess gave Claire a pointed look.

“Please remove your boots, Liam–”

“Mister Liam,” Lady Beaumont corrected her sternly.

“Mister Liam.”

Is she trying to turn her into a Maid for real?

Liam pulled off his boots, savouring the feeling of the cool floorboards under his feet. His eyes went to the materials that Reed’s men had left in the wagon.

“Lady Beaumont,” he said. “With your permission, we would like to raise a canvas over the wagon.”

“That would be wonderful,” the Countess smiled. “Thank you, Liam.”

Claire frowned slightly. Liam reached down to measure out a length of rope.

“Is there anything we shouldn’t touch?” Liam asked, “It looked like you were doing something just now.”

“I was just trying to make some space,” Lady Beaumont said. “Feel free to move whatever you wish. Claire can put it back later.”

“Great,” Liam said as he picked his way over to the front of the wagon. “By the way, my lady, what are your plans for dinner tonight?”

“M-My plans?”

“Yeah, you have a retinue to feed. If the weather goes bad, we won’t be able to reach the mines by nightfall.”

Countess Beaumont bit her lip, looking up at the shrouded peaks nearby. It was a bit cruel to bring up the matter so suddenly, but it wasn’t as if there weren’t any solutions on hand.

Would she ask Olin to share his men’s provisions? Or would she impose her needs on a nearby village? There were a few other options as well, according to Lady Wagner.

“Mister Reed,” Countess Beaumont said.

“My lady?”

“How many of your men would be required to provision us for tonight?”

“You mean by hunting?” The woodsman sucked in his lower lip, “Four, if it’s just us.”

“Then send six ahead of us to do so,” the Countess said. “Don’t poach from existing tenancies.”

“Yes, m’lady.”

Reed whistled up his men and put together a hunting party. Additionally, he ordered the men escorting the wagon to forage food from the roadside. Liam gave the young noblewoman a thoughtful look.

“Did you consider doing anything else?” He asked.

“About the provisions? That was the first thing that came to mind…why?”

“I always hear stories about Nobles stealing from the people when they’re short on something.”

“You’d only hear stories like that in the lowliest of places,” the Countess said. “In reality, those sorts of actions would be counterproductive. Never mind that, it would go against the terms of our tenant contracts.”

A scoff sounded from one of the woodsmen helping secure one of the poles for the canvas. Countess Beaumont gave him the barest of glances, but she clearly didn’t like his reaction to her statement.

“Just to be sure,” Liam said, “have you seen these contracts?”

“Why, yes, of course I have.”

“What do they say?”

“Well, House Beaumont has around five thousand of them and each is negotiated with the specific tenant. Generally speaking, each contract provides enough land for a single household to support itself after obligations are fulfilled. This would be a hide of land for agricultural tenants, but House Beaumont doesn’t have any of those. The equivalent for forestry would be a combination of copses and generational woodlots that produce a volume of exports sufficient to trade for other necessities. Honestly, the terms are very generous: the copses are more than enough to sustain a single household, so the generational woodlots are essentially a reward for feal service.”

“What’s a ‘generational woodlot’?” Liam asked.

“A plot of managed woodland where trees are left to grow until maturity,” the Countess answered. “It’s not a formal term. Copses provide wood for fuel and minor woodcrafts, while generational woodlots provide timber for construction, shipbuilding, and other large-scale projects. Though we call it ‘generational’, trees managed this way are harvested every ten to a hundred and fifty years, depending on the type.”

Liam’s eyes went to the trees growing alongside the road. Those most easily accessed had been coppiced while the crowns of much taller trees could be seen deeper within each tenancy. He had lived most of his life in and around highly-developed Human lands, so many of the sights he saw now were new to him.

“What else comes with a tenant’s contract?” Liam asked.

“The rest are the usual terms one would find anywhere in Re-Estize,” Lady Beaumont answered. “Why do you ask?”

“Some things don’t match up with what I’ve been told on the way here,” Liam replied. “Or maybe I’m missing something somewhere…”

“Is someone claiming that our tenants don’t hold those terms?”

“Not exactly…I guess the best way to put it is that they’re technically holding those terms. What I don’t get is that your people should be doing well if everything’s as you say. The reality is that they’re struggling.”

He scanned the faces of the woodsmen around him while holding the last of the timbers that required tying. As far as he knew, all of them shared a similar story to Reed’s. None of them displayed the same callous edge as hardened criminals from towns and cities. Instead, they all just seemed like rough individuals who had become brigands to survive lean times.

“Hey, Reed.”

“Yeah?”

“What do you think she’s missing in all this?”

“I think you said it yourself. Reality.”

It was an easy enough explanation to accept. Countess Beaumont had lived in Re-Blumrushur for her entire life. The only information that she had concerning her family’s territory was whatever her father conveyed to her. Her late father had also spared no expense to maintain his daughter’s lifestyle, suggesting that – at least when it came to their presence in the city – he wanted to put up a prosperous front. Combined with the Countess’ reaction upon learning of House Beaumont’s true situation, a case of being woefully out of touch was the likely reason why she could say everything that she had with a straight face.

As Liam was about to finish hanging the canvas over the wagon, a faint set of wheel tracks veering off of the road caught his attention.

“Is that a road to one of the lumber villages?” Liam asked.

“Yeah,” Reed said. “Should be two or three of them down the valley.”

“Why don’t we stop by the nearest one? Lady Beaumont can see how things are for herself.”

“Up to you.”

Liam turned to Countess Beaumont.

“What do you think, my lady?”

“I don’t mind doing as you suggest,” the Countess replied, “but we’ve hardly made the proper preparations for a court visit.”

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“It doesn’t have to be an official visit,” Liam said. “Actually, how did your father handle those?”

“From what I could gather from our records, my lord father assigned magistrates to oversee clusters of villages across our fief. As you may have noticed, having an itinerant court in this type of landscape is nigh impossible. Instead, the magistrates manage the village chiefs and deliver their seasonal reports with collected rents to the manor.”

Everything she said still sounded pretty reasonable. Liam hopped off of the Countess’ wagon, jogging up to the head of the caravan to discuss their detour with Olin. The wiry man grimaced in response, looking over his shoulder to the lead wagon.

“I’ll go wherever,” he said, “but that Merchant won’t. He’s got a schedule to keep.”

“Where does that leave us?”

“The Merchant keeps going and we don’t,” Olin shrugged. “My men were using one of the Merchant’s empty wagons to haul their bags, so they’ll have to carry their supplies if you’re taking this detour.”

“Countess Beaumont needs to see what’s going on with her people with her own eyes,” Liam said. “Adding a day to our trip will be worth it.”

Liam worried that the Merchant would be left undefended with the Eight Fingers leaving him, but it turned out that some of the heavily armed men were his guards. Just in case, he went to consult with Reed about the dangers they might face.

“Hey, Reed.”

“Yeah?”

“If we are attacked by something out here, what would it be?”

“Uh…a horny moose maybe. It’s ruttin’ time for ‘em.”

“…anything more dangerous than that?”

“Hey, don’t underestimate those things. I’d take on a Tiger over one of them any day. Anything stronger’d be a Magical Beast or a Monster and those don’t play by the normal rules.”

“If you’re worried about the Merchant,” Olin said from behind them, “don’t be. That old man’s been profiting off of this side of the county since my grandfather’s time. He knows how to run his business.”

Ahead of them, the Merchant’s caravan has already put the intersection far behind it. Something was off about what Olin had said, but Liam couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

“Did the Merchant say anything?”

“No,” Olin replied. “No point in doing so. You keep your nose out of other people’s business if you plan on thriving around here.”

“I’m starting to think that all of Re-Estize is that way,” Liam said.

“It mostly is,” Olin said. “And it’s better that way.”

Liam kept his opinion of Olin’s statement to himself. Once Countess Beaumont’s entourage was ready to go, they followed the lane leading down into the forested valley below. He rejoined the Countess, walking through the tall grass alongside the wagon.

“How’s the ride now?” Liam asked.

“Much improved, thank you,” the young noblewoman smiled. “Would you like to join us?”

He peeked over the side of the wagon. Lady Beaumont’s blankets now covered the wagon bed and the baggage of Reed’s gang was arranged near the back, forming a makeshift wall. Unfurled bedrolls hung over every side.

“Why are all the bedrolls out?” Liam asked.

“Because they stink,” Claire said as she wrinkled her nose. “Reed and them don’t even remember the last time they were washed.”

“I see.”

Overall, the changes transformed the wagon into a nicely cushioned box. The smell would hopefully go away later. Liam produced his heating hoop from his pack.

“Try using this inside,” Liam said. “I’m not sure how well it’ll work in an open wagon, but it’s probably better than nothing.”

Claire reached out to retrieve the magic item. Her brow set in a look of concentration as she fiddled with the device. Liam’s attention turned back to the Countess.

“Are you familiar with the village we’re visiting, my lady?”

“What is the village called? Lady Beaumont asked.

Liam looked over at Reed.

“Spruce Landing,” Reed told them. “It’s a little place along a little river, just like a few hundred other places in this county.”

“I’m familiar with what the records say about Spruce Landing,” the Countess said. “Since it’s near the town, it was one of the first villages I took a look at after I arrived at the estate. As Mister Reed suggests, it may be considered an average village in the county.”

“Did you notice anything strange about it in House Beaumont’s records?” Liam asked.

“Not particularly,” the Countess answered. “If anything, one could say that it’s a model village.”

The woodsmen within earshot visibly bristled at the noblewoman’s statement. Liam released the edge of the wagon, dropping back down to walk beside Reed.

“They’re not gonna put an arrow in her are they?” He said in a low voice.

“I’m surprised I’m so angry myself,” Reed replied. “I thought I put all of it behind me a long time ago.”

“I can’t imagine how you feel,” Liam said, “I grew up poor in a town. The people living out in the countryside always seemed like rich people to me.”

“Seriously?”

“A tenant’s contract is basically a legal right to exist,” Liam said. “I know it might not be the case here, but tenants usually get enough land to support themselves and their families. No one can deny their titles and rights without just cause and your liege will even go to war to uphold them. They’re probably not doing it for any particular person, but to maintain the order under them as a whole.

“Being poor in a town or city means you’re a nobody…and nobody cares if a nobody starves or dies because there are a thousand other nobodies ready to replace those who don’t make it. Cities are supposed to be wealthy and all, but most of that wealth goes into the purses of the Guilds. It’s super hard to get into the Guilds, so, if you’re not a part of the Guilds, life in the city is hell.”

He supposed that he had lucked out on that part after being picked up by Baroness Zahradnik and her friends. He had gotten a chance to show off his skills and ended up getting trained by the most infamous Assassin Guild in the region. After that, he became a government employee, which was extraordinarily difficult for a common citizen of Re-Estize to become.

Then again, if one categorised organisations like the Eight Fingers as ‘institutions’, one could, in a crooked sort of way. The conditions in Re-Estize created all sorts of disgruntled people looking for a way out of their situation. In the case of Beaumont County, it created a bunch of disgruntled Rangers. Like Reed and his gang, they ended up becoming syndicate thugs who helped sweep away the old order to replace it with their own.

“Living out in the country has its downsides, too,” Reed said. “It can take weeks for Adventurers to respond to attacks from the wilderness and they don’t involve themselves in…domestic disputes as a general rule.”

“Isn’t the Adventurer Guild sort of responsible for the crime in Re-Estize?” Liam asked.

“How do you figure?”

“It’s something I heard from one of the Sorcerous Kingdom’s Nobles,” Liam said. “Adventurers are promoted as a cheap security option relative to the usual Knights and armsmen. The cost-cutting that they did resulted in them losing their ability to resist challenges to their authority.”

“But that can’t be!”

Liam and Reed turned their heads to find Countess Beaumont watching them from the wagon, her slender fingers turning white as she gripped the bedrolls draped over the edge of the vehicle.

“The Royal Court itself supports the Adventurer Guild!” Her voice was heated, “They’ve even gone so far as to allocate a portion of the budget to subsidise Adventurer commissions in the poorer territories. Why would the House of Lords approve of something that would undermine their power?”

“You seem pretty excited about this,” Liam said.

“That’s because the ordinance was spearheaded by none other than Renner Theiere Chardelon Ryle Vaiself! The Golden Princess herself!”

“Then I guess your Golden Princess is trying to destroy the country.”

“Nonsense,” Lady Beaumont sniffed. “She isn’t known as the Golden Princess for nothing, you know? Not everything she proposes is passed into law, but all of it has been beneficial for the Kingdom.”

That’s a fail there, I guess.

According to Countess Wagner, everything that Princess Renner did was terrible for the Kingdom of Re-Estize. Only those who were superficial, impulsive, emotional, or blindly adherent to arbitrary moral principles saw what the ‘Golden Princess’ did as beneficial. If one measured things in terms of hard realities and unfeeling numbers, the destruction that Princess Renner wrought became plain. Her proposals enhanced her reputation as a benevolent royal in the eyes of the ignorant while weakening the national power of her country at the same time.

While the reasons why she was doing this were unknown, her objective was perfectly clear. Up until the founding of the Sorcerous Kingdom, Princess Renner was accelerating the downfall of Re-Estize to the Empire. At the same time, she was ensuring her safety by enhancing her public reputation and purposely failing to implement proposals that the Empire’s spies in Re-Estize’s Royal Court would convey to the Empire to be implemented there, making her invaluable for her ideas. Now that the Sorcerous Kingdom was around, she had forsaken her old prospect in favour of the new ascendant power.

One of the few instructions that Liam and the dozens of other agents investigating Re-Estize had received from Lady Albedo was to keep an eye out for the same sort of duplicity now that Princess Renner had thrown her lot in with the Sorcerous Kingdom. Personally, he thought someone like her wasn’t worth keeping around. They might not have been princesses, but Liam had known his fair share of people like that growing up in Fassett Town. Their scheming inevitably blew up at the expense of everyone they had entangled and the damage that they caused was never worth what they supposedly brought to the table.

He wasn’t in any position to influence decisions, however. All he could do was trust that his superiors were making the correct decisions and focus on his job.

Their arrival in Spruce Landing was a quiet one, mostly due to the villagers making themselves scarce upon Countess Beaumont’s arrival. Unlike a farming village, lumber villages had an abundance of construction materials, allowing the residents of Spruce Landing to build themselves sturdy log cabins clustered over the riverbank. Wisps of smoke rising from their chimneys gave away the fact that the villagers were at home despite their disappearance well beforehand.

Countess Beaumont’s wagon stopped on a flat and dry clearing at the end of the road surrounded by seasoning timber. Claire gestured for Reed to come over.

“M’lady wishes to speak to you, Mister Reed.”

“‘My lady’,” the Countess hissed.

Liam exchanged a look with Reed, urging him forward with a motion of his head. The woodsman gave his gambeson a tug before taking a deep breath and walking over.

“You called, m’lady?”

“Go to the back,” Claire whispered over the side of the wagon.

Reed did as he was instructed, muttering darkly under his breath. Both he and Liam furrowed their brows at the sight that awaited them. The back of the wagon was open, revealing the wall of packs belonging to Reed’s men. A broad plank had been laid over them, forming a makeshift table or desk. Countess Beaumont gazed down at them from where she was sitting on the other side.

“Mister Reed,” she said. “Locate Magistrate Woodlund and bring him to me.”

“Bring him here? Don’t meetings with the local lord usually happen at the Magistrate’s residence?”

“You have your instructions, Mister Reed,” Claire said from her place behind the Countess’ shoulder.

The woodsman’s dark mutterings returned as he stalked away in the direction of the river. Liam stared blankly at nothing in particular, wondering what was going on.

“How does it look, Mister Liam?” Countess Beaumont asked.

“How does what look?” Liam asked back.

“This,” the young noblewoman said as she gestured loosely around herself with a white-gloved hand. “Trying to transform this vehicle into a luxury carriage was obviously out of the question, so I made do with turning it into a mobile office.”

Was that what it was? Liam figured that most people would mistake it for a roadside stall. All it needed was some merchandise to display.

“Reed had a point,” Liam said. “Itinerant courts are usually hosted by the local magistrate or village chief.”

“That may be so,” the Countess admitted, “but I quite like this. It’s warm and comfortable and I don’t have to go anywhere. Additionally, if I hold court at the magistrate’s house, it will turn into a village-wide affair and we’ll be stuck here until at least tomorrow morning. Considering how many unaddressed issues the village has accrued since last winter, it wouldn’t be strange to be delayed for a week.”

Liam couldn’t argue against that particular point. He couldn’t afford to add days and weeks to his mission.

“Speaking of food,” Countess Beaumont said, “I’m positively famished. What’s for lunch?”

“Uh…”

He sent a look at the woodsmen nearby. One by one, they came forward to drop off the results of their foraging on the open back door of the wagon. Liam frowned as a small mountain of nuts, mushrooms, berries, fresh greens, and herbs formed before him.

“How did you find all of this?” Liam asked.

“Dunno,” one of the woodsmen said. “It just happens.”

“Can we turn this into something for everyone?”

“We usually just snack on the move. How much time do we have?”

Liam looked up at the two girls behind the wagon’s ‘desk’.

“I’ve never held court before,” Countess Beaumont said, “but I can’t imagine that this particular discussion will take longer than two hours. Can something be prepared in that time, Claire?”

“You’re asking me?” Claire replied incredulously, “I-I mean, I’ll see what I can do, m’lady. Maybe some kind of soup…”

Reed’s men got a fire going while Claire prepared the ingredients and threw them into a large cookpot. She set the nuts and berries aside, tossing them into a set of bags. There were too many herbs to use as well, so she hung those in bundles under the canvas. The woodsmen each volunteered slices of sausage to add to the meal. Within minutes, a somewhat appetising aroma mingled with the scents of woodsmoke and pine. Claire was filling bowls and handing them out by the time Reed returned with a nervous-looking man in plain garb.

“That took a while,” Liam said. “Did he try to run away?”

“Nah,” Reed replied, “he hid in his house and barred the door.”

“Is that normal?”

“It is around here. Had to chop my way in with an axe.”

“I hope you didn’t hurt any of the villagers,’ Liam said.

“The villagers?” Reed laughed, “They locked themselves away, too. No one was gonna come out to help this old shitbag.”

“You know him?”

“Naw, but I know his type. They’re everywhere in the Azerlisian Marches – maybe everywhere in the Kingdom. Hey, that’s the Countess Beaumont in front of ya. On your knees, pig.”

Reed kicked the man in the back of the knees and planted a gauntleted hand on his shoulder. For his part, Magistrate Woodlund did little more than cry and whimper as he was dragged in and forced to kneel.

“That’s hardly necessary, Mister Reed,” the Countess frowned over her desk. “Find the Magistrate a serviceable seat.”

One of the nearby woodsmen dragged a log over and planted it on the ground squarely in front of the Countess’ wagon desk thing. The young noblewoman calmly folded her hands in front of her.

“Now, Magistrate Woodlund,” she said with a friendly smile, “I believe you and I have much to discuss.”