Valkyrie's Shadow

Chapter 17

Ludmila awaited an answer to her question; another stubborn rebuttal or excuse, but Count Fassett only continued to fearfully look up at her. She stepped forward, reaching out to pull him up from his chair.

“Aiiiieeee!”

With a shriek, the skinny man fell off of his seat as he frantically pulled away from her grasp. He scrambled backwards over the floor.

“Ilwé!” He cried, “Save meeee!”

The green-haired servant leapt into action, tackling Ludmila in the waist. They stumbled together, away from the table, and Ludmila saw what she had intended to check on ever since she saw her. The servant’s long, green hair flew wildly as she struggled to push Ludmila back: revealing a pair of long, pointed ears. There was little chance she could be anyone else. She silently instructed the Shadow Demons quietly creeping towards them to stand down.

“Mrs. Linum,” she said calmly. “Please let go.”

If she recognized the name, she showed no sign of it and continued to do what she could to carry out Count Fassett’s frantic orders. Ludmila gave her a hard shove, and the Elf stumbled away to fall back onto the floor near the table. Ludmila’s gaze locked onto Count Fassett, who had put his back against the wall. She stepped towards him.

“Ilwé!” He called out desperately again.

Ilwé pulled herself to her feet, snatching a knife from among the utensils on the table. She dashed forward again, holding the small blade out in Ludmila’s direction. Ludmila brought the haft of her spear down over the Elf’s bare wrist, and Ilwé gasped in pain. The knife fell to the floor and clattered away, but Ilwé continued forward to grab at Ludmila again. Struggling to free herself again, Ludmila couldn’t understand why a slave would fight so desperately for her master – for a house which had, by all appearances, mistreated her for generations.

Beyond them, Count Fassett finally found his feet and disappeared into the servants’ entrance of the hall. Ludmila finally worked Ilwé off of her and shoved the Elf away once more. She nearly tripped when she moved forward, only to have the Elf wrap her arms around one of her legs.

“Follow him!” Ludmila ordered, “He is still to be left unharmed.”

A Shadow Demon flickered away as Ludmila untangled herself from Ilwé’s continued attempts to impede her. When she nearly made it to the entry that Count Fassett had escaped out of, she stopped at the sound of someone running past the other side of the wall. Ludmila dashed back up the hall to leave out of the main entrance. Stepping out, she was barely able to brace herself before the fleeing Count collided headfirst into her. She was jarred backwards and the man fell back over onto the floor of the corridor.

“So hard…” He rolled over onto his side with a groan. “Ow! Ow! Stop! It hurts! I yield! I yield!”

Ilwé appeared to the sight of her master being stepped on repeatedly.

“Master!” She threw herself bodily over Count Fassett with a cry.

The man peeked over Ilwé’s thin shoulder, looking up at Ludmila with a fearful, victimized expression.

“Why…why would you do that!”

“…no reason.”

She brushed aside her irritation as she looked down at the two; Count Fassett continued his whimpering under her glare. Should she just order the Shadow Demons to carry them off? Ludmila eyed the growing bruise on Ilwé’s wrist. She wanted to avoid causing her any distress, but she just kept coming to the young nobleman’s defence with no regard to her own safety.

“Get up, Count Fassett,” Ludmila told the nobleman cowering on the floor. “We’re leaving.”

“Leaving? Where? Why?”

Ludmila furrowed her brow behind her mask.

“You are being brought away to answer for the charges that have been leveled against you,” Ludmila replied. “Or have you somehow forgotten what just transpired mere minutes ago?”

Count Fassett looked up to her as if she were insane, and his plaintive voice rose in protest.

“This is madness,” he said. “I have done nothing wrong! You have provided no evidence for your accusations; only arriving to viciously attack me in my own manor! This unjustified assault of yours runs afoul of the Crown Laws: no one may do such a thing, not even the King himself.”

“The evidence for your violations has already been gathered,” Ludmila said. “Did you really expect someone to come ask for your permission to perform an investigation?”

“Of course!” Count Fassett answered, “It would only be proper. The fact that this ‘evidence’ has been collected independently already makes it highly suspect. You would have received my full cooperation if you had only asked for proof related to your task here: I have no wrongdoings to hide, after all.”

Despite his recent disgraceful display, Count Fassett seemed to have gathered enough of his wits to resume his act once again. Or was it an act? His lying on the floor while doing so made it all the more ludicrous. At this point, she could not tell whether he was still trying to employ the letter of the law as a shield or just outright delusional.

“You have two choices available, Count Fassett,” Ludmila said flatly. “Either you walk away with us, or we drag you away with us.”

“To both,” he spat, “I refuse. You have no rig–”

“Let’s go,” she said. “Do not harm the Elf.”

Ludmila turned around and walked back down the corridor to the entrance. A Shadow Demon rose to the nobleman’s horrified screams and grasped one of his ankles. He thrashed and cried as he slid off towards the entrance of the manor with Ilwé following after him, her face marred with worry while she wrung her hands. The struggles ceased momentarily as he was dragged straight over the dead mercenary in the hall; his fine jacket painting a crimson streak all the way to the door.

The fading light of the evening skies greeted them outdoors in windswept silence. Count Fassett ended his struggling entirely and his face grew pale as he was dragged by the headless corpse outside the door. He grew paler still as they passed the grim totem planted in the middle of the manor lane.

“What kind of monster are you?” His voice trembled.

You are the monster here, Ludmila wanted to reply, but she did not deign him with an answer.

They stopped outside the entrance of the village below the manor where she scanned the buildings and lanes. It had no illumination beyond the torch in the square and that of a few open windows. Two militia sentries stood in the square; beyond that everyone seemed to have retreated into their homes. Ludmila exchanged her spear for her longbow, along with two quivers of arrows which she clipped to her belt.

“Reveal yourself plainly,” she instructed the Shadow Demons. “Let’s keep going.”

The two Demons floated over the road, their winged forms clearly visible to any who looked in their direction. Several sets of shutters slammed shut. As they approached the square, Count Fassett found his voice again.

“You two there!” He called out to the militia sentries, “Help me!”

The two men turned their heads towards the sound of his voice, readying their weapons cautiously. Their stances faltered when they saw what came into the torchlight, and they stumbled backwards in panicked retreat.

“What are you doing!” Count Fassett yelled, “I am your Lord! I order you to attack!”

The men only continued to back away as he was dragged by. Hysterical breathing rose from behind Ludmila.

“Damn it!” Count Fassett’s shrill voice drifted over the village square, “Fulfil your duty to your liege! Kill these insolent wretches!”

His continued cries as they turned onto the highway which ran along the length of the village drew curious onlookers. Wide eyes peeked through the cracks in doors and shutters at the sight. Count Fassett looked left and right at all of the silent bystanders in their homes.

“You!” He shouted, “Peasants! Come out here and deal with these criminals!”

The villagers only stared back at him.

“You fools! I am your Lord! How dare you defy me!”

Count Fassett continued shouting, cursing and threatening as he was dragged all the way through to the end of the village. He saw the last few buildings go by and cried out into the twilight.

“Please – please! Save me, someone…please!” He wailed, “I don’t want this! This isn’t right! I’ll give you anything – everything! Oh gods, please save me from these monsters!”

His wracking sobs filled the air as they made their way north. Ludmila stopped when they were well away from the village.

“You can stop dragging him now,” Ludmila said to the Shadow Demon. “Ilwé, help Count Fassett to his feet.”

The nobleman’s leather boot thumped as his ankle was released to drop to the cobblestones, and Ludmila watched as Ilwé gently helped him to his feet. The Elf spoke in soft and soothing tones to him as she did so, and Ludmila wondered once again how she could show such care for a family that had shown her such cruelty.

Looking at Campbell Fassett’s haggard face, she decided that the fight had gone out of him entirely…but she believed that after he had been thoroughly shaken in his manor as well. At the least, he probably wouldn’t want to be dragged all the way to the encampment in the north. Looking over her shoulder after they resumed walking, she saw them shuffling forward with no signs of resistance.

When they were halfway to the encampment on the ridge, Ludmila projected her voice.

『Clara? I am about halfway back.』

A substantial amount of her was sapped away, and she wobbled on her feet.

I guess I will not be trying it again from that distance any time soon...

After several minutes with no reply, Ludmila wondered if she had accidentally knocked out her friend with an attempt to respond. After closing half again the distance, she tried again to a more manageable drain akin to her test in Warden’s Vale; once again she received no response. She could make details out of the ring of wagons, tents and barricades and nothing seemed to be amiss, so she decided there was some unknown aspect of the ability that prevented Clara’s reply, if she had even heard her in the first place.

Night had fully fallen by the time they arrived back at the camp. The footmen maintained bored expressions as their vigil dragged on through the evening. The gaze of one stopped over them, and she saw him turn to call into the camp. Clara appeared with two escorts shortly after, but she was held back by the footmen along the barricade when she attempted to run out and meet her on the way.

『Ludmila?』 Clara called out to her from the perimeter.

『Oh, I can hear you now.』

『I heard you twice before, but my replies did not seem to work…I called and called in the direction of your voice until I got dizzy and had to sit down.』

『Sorry about that. I guess there are still things we need to figure out…』

Their silent dialogue tapered off as Ludmila walked up to the barricade.

“How are we doing here?” She asked.

Clara looked to one of the footmen that had accompanied her, and he straightened fully before reporting.

“We’re too far to really make any real details out up north, Lady Camilla,” he said. “We’ve seen none of the armed men that were mentioned, nor any other people coming up the road at all. There are no visible changes over the town…just seems like any other night from our end, aside from the smoke from the manor fire. Would it have been better to send a few men to check?”

“No,” Ludmila shook her head, “you’ve done well. Ensuring the camp remains secure is our priority.”

“Lady Camilla…” Campbell’s voice came from the side. “There is no House Camilla: who are you!”

Ludmila removed the mask, and Campbell gasped.

“You! You’re Corelyn’s Lady-in-Waiting…”

Clara looked over Ludmila’s outfit. Then she looked again.

“Really?” She said incredulously.

“Really,” said Ludmila.

“But…”

“I didn’t even try to hide anything,” Ludmila shrugged as she put the mask away. “Well, aside from wearing this. Do we have suitable accommodations prepared for Count Fassett?”

“For the both of them,” Clara replied, “if Jacqueline survived somehow. What about the other nobles supporting him?”

“He was the only one in the manor and I didn’t bother asking along the way here. You can try getting that out of him while I check to see if there’s anything left of Jacqueline.”

Clara turned to look at Count Fassett with a neutral expression.

“I see,” She said. “Well, Count Fassett, I can’t say that it’s a pleasure to see you again, but my footman will escort you to your tent. What about this servant…?”

“She’s with me,” Ludmila replied.

Ludmila’s grip tightened on Ilwé’s arm as Clara led the young nobleman away. The Elf still tried to pull away to follow him.

“He is your master no longer Mrs. Linum,” she told her firmly.

She was at a loss as to how to address her strange behaviour. Ilwé continued to struggle until her breath grew short. As she watched Count Fassett disappear behind the line of tents, Ludmila instructed the Shadow Demons to check on Jacqueline’s manor and deal with any assailants they might find in the vicinity. Ilwé was still trying to get away when she finished issuing her orders.

“Come, Mrs. Linum,” she urged her, “Wiluvien and Lluluvien have been searching for you.”

At the sound of their names, she calmed somewhat and allowed herself to be led away.

The tent where Linum sisters saw to their work was brightly lit, and both of Ludmila’s chambermaids were awake and sifting through the pile of unsorted information that remained. A small folding table, upon which lay a map of the county under a small notebook and several sheets of paper, was set up in the centre. Gathered around it with them were the children from the town. They turned their heads towards the entrance in unison as Ludmila pulled aside the flap.

“Welcome back, my lady,” Lluluvien came forward to greet her. “We’re just ab–”

As she rose from her curtsey, Lluluvien glanced over to the figure that was pulled into the tent alongside Ludmila and her breath caught in her throat. Lluluvien took one step forward, then another. All at once, she fell to her knees, reaching out to grasp the hem of Ludmila’s skirt.

“Thank you, my lady,” tears started falling to the ground as she bent forward to press her face into her dress. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you…”

Lluluvien continued to pour out her gratitude between heartfelt sobs, and Wiluvien had fallen beside her to do the same. The four children watched quietly from the table.

“Are you trying to get me going as well?”

Ludmila’s voice nearly broke under the flood of their emotions as she stepped away, bringing Ilwé forward to stand in her place.

"I was able to bring her with me,” Ludmila said, “but I don’t know how to handle this. She keeps trying to return to Count Fassett, and she has attacked me multiple times on his orders. Is it really safe to leave her with you like this?”

“We will keep our mother close, my lady,” Lluluvien replied after another shuddering sob, “We’ve…been there before. But you saved me and my sister, my lady – and now our mother as well. Our family will serve your house forever, Lady Zahradnik!”

Ludmila was unsure how to respond. Did they just cast off centuries of bondage, only to immediately turn around to offer an eternity of service?

“Your family may serve for as long as they desire, but it is your choice. You are slaves no longer,” her lips turned up in a light smirk. “What I said when you entered my service remains unchanged: slavery is illegal in the Sorcerous Kingdom.”

Ludmila turned away from the Linum sisters, who were weeping and embracing their mother, leaving the tent before her own tears could escape. She turned away from the interior of the encampment to wipe her eyes clear before heading towards the pavilion. It turned out that the three other noblewomen were instead gathered around the main campfire, gazes cast across the distance towards the town.

There was a footman standing behind Count Fassett’s shoulder, and the nobleman slouched despondently on a log. Though he was supposed to have been shown his accommodations, he had taken no effort to correct his haggard appearance. On another side of the fire, Clara, Liane and Florine looked in her direction as she entered into the light.

“Anything?” Ludmila asked.

Count Fassett jumped up at her voice with a shout. The footman immediately forced him back down onto his seat.

“Perhaps you’ll have better luck scaring some answers out of him,” Clara smiled slightly. “We’ve just started, and everything so far is just the same brazen denials and evasive posturing…”

Clara glanced to the nobleman seated near the fire before taking Ludmila aside.

“His clothing was covered in mud and blood,” Clara whispered. “Just what in the world did you do? Liane and Florine think that you had him tortured!”

“Oh…he refused to come with me,” Ludmila replied, “so I had him dragged out. There were a bunch of corpses along the way – that is where the blood is from.”

Her friend frowned at her casual explanation.

“Parts of his jacket were torn,” Clara continued. “One of his sleeves and half of his collar were missing completely.”

“Ilwé Linum – the Elf servant that came with us – tried to stop him from being dragged off a few times, but only came away with pieces of his outfit.”

“Why are there heel marks all over him?” Clara peered at her.

“…no reason.”

“Huh…well, I suppose you should join us,” Clara said. “I simply cannot believe how he can just revert to the same behaviour after being subjected to all of that. Is this sort of shameless conduct something common in the west?”

“You know that I am probably the last person that would have the answer to that,” Ludmila replied, “but there will be time for him later. I am going to head out and check on Jacque–”

She stopped and turned her head as a figure appeared at her side. Ludmila’s eyes grew wide in recognition; she quickly placed her longbow on the ground and lowered her head in a deep curtsey.

“Lady Shalltear,” she greeted her liege.

From beside her Clara gasped in recognition and she, too, followed suit. Liane and Florine were not long after, and soon every servant within the perimeter had ceased what they were doing to lower themselves in deference to Lady Shalltear Bloodfallen.

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