Valkyrie's Shadow

Chapter 14

Traces of the intruder’s cologne continued to linger in the air long after he was dragged away. Two of the guards near the entrance went to retrieve several of the Rangers and Rogues from outside, and together they started to make an extra careful sweep of the atrium. Their four visitors did not look around worriedly as some might after such an incident, instead proceeding to address Frianne who stood before them.

“Is this sort of occurrence common in Arwintar?”

“That’s, ehm…no.”

The woman who had intercepted the man returned to her place on the right side of the group, but it was the flaxen-haired woman in a cobalt blue dress beside her who spoke. Was the one who had moved in reality a bodyguard? It wasn’t unheard of in the Empire: Nobles usually had retired Adventurers, Workers, or military personnel nested in their retinues.

In her vaguely militant forest green dress, the tall woman did look the part, except she was far too young. Her features spoke of a lineage hailing from the south so she couldn’t be sure, but Frianne thought she was close to the same age as herself. The first woman seemed about the same while the other two – who were adorned in the city fashions of well-to-do Noblewomen – reminded Frianne of a few of her juniors in the Academy.

“I see,” the woman in the cobalt dress said. “Then who was that gentleman?”

Beside her, Lord Anoch shifted in clear discomfort. He probably had something unkind to say, though Frianne’s explanation would be damning enough.

“He wasn’t a gentleman at all,” Frianne replied. “He’s one of the attainted.”

Though they didn’t display any overt reaction, the overall feeling given off by the women was that of people encountering something unspeakably dirty. Without moving, they seemed to recoil at her words: it was a reaction that was to be expected of true Nobles.

To be attainted meant that one had been dishonourably discharged from their duties, all contracts between the attainted, their liege, and their vassals annulled. Their titles and associated lands were repossessed by their liege. They and their entire bloodline would be forever viewed as corrupted; tainted: never to hold positions of aristocratic authority ever again.

Attainder was often accompanied by the delivery of high justice, but the Emperor saw fit to use many of the attainted as living examples to the rest of the Empire’s aristocracy. Thus, the attainted became commoners, no longer afforded the rights and privileges that aristocratic status conferred. In short, attainder was the obliteration of a Noble lineage.

Nobles – Frianne included – could only see those who were responsible for their family’s fall from grace as vile wretches who deserved nothing but disdain. Many took the stigma to extremes and even extended that treatment to the attainted’s children and any known descendants in perpetuity.

Frianne once had a classmate in the Imperial Magic Academy, Arche, who quit her studies in order to work off her family’s mounting debts. Despite being regarded as a genius Wizard who approached the third tier of arcane spellcasting during her second year, the fact that Arche’s father had been attainted overrode everything. Institutions and establishments that would have otherwise fought tooth and claw to bring her into their employ closed their doors. Even the Imperial Magic Academy, which had lauded her as their most promising student, made no effort to retain her.

It was the same with everyone from an attainted bloodline. One might be lent to believe that this was an out-of-place cultural element for a nation that purportedly recognized people based on personal merit, but that was until one considered where that recognition came from. By being attainted, an entire bloodline was essentially marked by the imperial establishment. Upstanding citizens of the Empire would not take the risk of employing men and women of ill repute, no matter how talented they were.

Those who occupied positions of power and cared nothing for imperial politics were known to reach out to the attainted on occasion, however. One such person was Count Palatine Peshmel; another was Fluder Paradyne, the Empire’s most powerful spellcaster. When House Furt had been attainted, Frianne held hope that the head of the Imperial Ministry of Magic would act to at least save the promising young prodigy. He was aloof of politics and cared only for magic, so a position as his disciple was entirely plausible. If any efforts were made, however, they were to no avail.

Of the attainted, those with talent and ability either left the Empire to seek their fortunes elsewhere or sold themselves into slavery in hopes that they could at least exchange their skills for the legal protection afforded by their masters. Those with promising martial ability became combatants in the arenas or took up careers as Workers: a sort of mercenary who functioned much like an Adventurer, save for the fact that they were not bound by any regulations and could be employed for illegal activities.

Those without anything could only sell their bodies, as the remaining ‘gift’ of a Noble bloodline was the beauty that stood above that of the average commoner. A fallen Noble could find work in a brothel, as many would pay a premium to break their pride and taste what they could never have otherwise.

Commoners sometimes snidely said things like ‘Honour? What’s that? Can you eat it?’ The answer to that question was yes. Honour was recognition and trust. With it came connections, opportunities and authority. To be dishonoured meant ruin in the Empire, and the sins of the father stalked his sons and daughters for generations untold.

Of course, those responsible for being attainted were for good reason. Many incompetent and deluded fools attempted to cling to their former lifestyle without the titles that provided the incomes required to sustain it. The rigid structure and traditions of a Noble household usually meant that they dragged their families and retainers down with them. With their wealth quickly melting away, they would fall into debt and take reckless or outright stupid gambles to reverse their fortunes.

Such as sending their sons or even personally attempting to court powerful young noblewomen.

Despite the awkward situation, Frianne found a measure of relief in their reaction. It lent to the impression that they were indeed who they appeared to be. Lord Anoch’s words, however, tempered her thoughts. Could it be that their act was so perfect that even a duke’s daughter could not see through it? It was rumoured that there were Demons who stole faces and read minds…

Lord Anoch shifted beside her, and the sound of his armour drew her out of her thoughts. Her gaze went to each of the women before settling on the one in the cobalt dress, who appeared to be the ranking member.

“Welcome to the Baharuth Empire,” Frianne fixed her face into a mask of welcome. “I am Frianne Wyelia Van Gushmond. This is Count Palatine Nimble Arc Dale Anoch. It is our greatest honour to receive you in the name of His Imperial Majesty, and you have our most sincere apologies for the…intrusion.”

“Countess Clara Odilia Dale Corelyn,” the lead noblewoman drew out her skirts in a perfect curtsey. “This is Countess Liane Loretta Dale Wagner, Baroness Florine Kadia Dale Garnier, and Baroness Ludmila Zahradnik. We are humbled by His Imperial Majesty’s most warm welcome.”

As each of the women paid their respects in turn, Frianne resisted the temptation to breathe out a relieved sigh. So far, they were following the proper forms of the aristocratic traditions common to the Human nations of the north. Her greatest fear was that they would brazenly attempt to exploit their position as Nobles of the Empire’s suzerain. Instead, there was no indication of this at all. They had accepted Frianne as a representative of the Emperor, showing the degree of deference appropriate to their relative court ranks.

According to the reports of the Imperial Army, Re-Estize suffered a catastrophic defeat at the hands of the Sorcerer King. Many of the Nobles who had come with their levies had been slain. With this in mind, the appearance of four young noblewomen should not have been a surprise, as they would have been next in line to inherit their titles. It appeared that, rather than pushing for radical reform and restructuring, the administration of the Sorcerous Kingdom had instead decided to facilitate the smooth transition of its newly-acquired territory.

The men in the atrium appeared to register this unexpected normalcy to the proceedings and visibly relaxed. Countess Corelyn smiled slightly. So far, they were who they appeared to be and their behaviour matched the personal nature of their visit, yet Lord Anoch's damnable warning continued to bounce around in Frianne’s head.

“Did His Imperial Majesty make any additional arrangements for our visit?” Countess Corelyn asked.

“As you are here on personal business,” Frianne answered, “the Emperor has only instructed us to accommodate any requests you might have. I’m certain that His Imperial Majesty would have been more than pleased to receive you personally, but he is currently meeting with another head of state.”

“In that case,” Countess Corelyn said, “we would very much like you to join us for our visit, Lady Frianne. We are not familiar with Arwintar, and having a guide to the city and its culture would be greatly appreciated.”

The entire Court Council would scream if she dropped her work to join them. Then again, it was a rare opportunity to gain insight into the mysterious Sorcerous Kingdom. It also meant that she would be present to prevent any further mishaps or any misunderstandings from occurring during their stay.

“It would be my pleasure to do so, Lady Corelyn,” Frianne replied.

“Excellent,” Lady Corelyn’s smile grew. “In that case, we are currently staying at the Mithril Garden Inn. We will be using the transportation we came with. What would be the best time for us to meet tomorrow morning?”

“Would three hours to midday be acceptable?”

“Three hours to midday, then,” Lady Corelyn nodded. “Have a pleasant evening, Lady Frianne. Lord Anoch.”

The four noblewomen curtseyed again before turning to make their way back out of the palace. Lord Anoch nodded to two of the guards, and they fell in to escort them back to their carriage.

A minute after they disappeared from view, the ‘Fierce Gale’ let out a weak sigh of relief.

“We’re saved…I think? I’m going to have to see the Field Marshal about security arrangements for our guests. Those attainted are going to be the end of us at this rate.”

“For our guests’ part,” Frianne sent a sharp look in Lord Anoch’s direction, “that was nowhere near as bad as you made me think it would be.”

“Don’t let your guard down,” Lord Anoch said. “You may have just volunteered for something terrible.”

“It sounded like they just wanted to take a look around the capital.”

With the tension in the air quickly dissipating, Lord Anoch removed his gauntlets to wipe his hands on a dry cloth napkin.

“It didn’t sound like that to me,” he said. “Who knows what sort of game they’re here to play. What did you hear, anyway?”

“They just wanted to…”

Frianne froze in mid-thought.

Didn’t sound like that to me…playing a game…what did you hear…

Her eyes grew wide. Never mind letting her guard down, it appeared that their visitors had struck a blow unnoticed.

“Oh gods…”

“Oh gods wha–hey!”

In a smooth motion, Frianne whipped out a roll of parchment and slapped it onto the nearest writing surface, which happened to be Lord Anoch’s adamantite cuirass.

“Lady Frianne,” Lord Anoch frowned. “I am not a desk.”

“Quiet!” Frianne hissed, “I’m trying to remember everything that she said.”

She scribbled out lines on the parchment, adding notes as they occurred to her. The finished product, however, was far from complete.

“I-I need to go. Reschedule all of my appointments until this ‘personal visit’ is over.”

“From Great Imperial Knight to desk. I’m not sure if being a runner is any better. Maybe I should have never left the marches.”

Preoccupied with trying to decipher Countess Corelyn’s cryptic message, Frianne couldn’t spare a thought to Lord Anoch’s complaints. She rushed out of the palace, boarding a carriage that would convey her to her family’s estate in the First-Class District. Hopefully, someone at home could help.

Upon arriving, Frianne nearly bowled over a footman as he opened the carriage door. She hurried past the maids who had come out to receive her, making her way into the west wing. To her relief, the person she had come to see had not retired for the evening. Stepping into the softly-lit family library, she lowered her head to its sole occupant.

“Oma,” Frianne said, “I need your help.”

The dowager Duchess of Gushmond looked up from her reading with a scowl.

“Well good evening to you, too.”

“I’m sorry,” Frianne said. “Someone left us with a message and I must figure out what it says by tomorrow morning.”

She produced the sheets of paper which had turned into a snarl of nearly indecipherable lines and words. Her grandmother held the pages out with a disgusted look.

“So not only did all those expensive tutors never teach you how to read,” she said, “but it’s also clear that you never learned how to write.”

Her grandmother’s bob of white hair shook as she let loose a wordless sigh. She took a fresh sheet of paper and a quill, penning out the message on the oak stand beside her couch. Frianne leaned over to see what she was writing.

“Do you know what it says?”

“Of course I do – it’s only six languages, all from around here. Where did this come from?”

“A group of noblewomen from the Sorcerous Kingdom paid a courtesy call to the Imperial Palace.”

“So you heard this and you still didn’t understand?”

Frianne shook her head. Her grandmother gave her a most unpleasantly sour look as she pulled out another sheet of paper and continued to write.

“Seems that the derision you young people always express towards Re-Estize is nothing but hot air,” she said. “You’ve all left our culture behind in favour of arcanistry and bureaucratic nonsense. If it wasn’t for the Imperial Army, our beloved Empire would have already lost its soul.”

The dowager Duchess muttered away, and Frianne remained respectfully silent. The topic was something she had been subjected to many dozens; perhaps hundreds of times growing up in House Gushmond.

As the Baharuth Empire rapidly advanced, it was failing to ensure that its soul – its culture and identity – kept up. Generation by generation, bits and pieces of its essence were lost. Power; wealth; convenience; knowledge…it was all insufficient to hold the core of their society together. Shallow advancements did not nurture the spirit of a nation. The contrivances and hollow structures that the people came up with in a futile attempt to fill that void only hastened the unravelling of everything.

In the past, Frianne viewed her grandmother’s perspective as nothing but bitter ramblings: a venerable member of the old guard waxing nostalgic. Her years at the Imperial Magic Academy, however, gradually led her to the dowager Duchess’ way of thinking. Something was wrong with the Baharuth Empire…and it was becoming increasingly worse as time passed.

Fundamental Principles of Magocratic Governance, the treatise she had published with her graduation from the Imperial Magic Academy, was a proposal written to specifically address the problem. That being said, was not a work that demanded a return to the old ways: it presented a framework through which any desirable societal elements could be retained, adapting them to changing times and creating an imperial culture that could lead their nation towards the future rather than one that continuously fell behind.

Unfortunately, like any academic paper or new theory, few appreciated its content. Fewer still recognized its importance or understood its intricacies. Her entry into the Court Council was primarily for the purposes of spreading her work, and it was likely that the fruit of her efforts would only come after a lifetime of service.

With a rustle of paper, her grandmother held the translated message out to her. It was three pages long. Frianne scanned the generously spaced-out lines of text with an incredulous expression.

“This is…an itinerary?”

“It is what it is,” her grandmother scoffed. “I know that I taught you better than that. It’s a bit rough, but whoever delivered this message is a far cry better than all the young upstarts popping up these days.”

“How is this rough?”

“With a bit more time and effort, she could have come up with some better word choices that would have allowed for a richer description.”

“I-I don’t think she spent any time on this at all,” Frianne said. “It didn’t have a sense of being rehearsed.”

Her grandmother gave her a long look, thumb rubbing over her wrist as she often did while she was deep in thought.

“In that case,” the dowager Duchess raised an eyebrow at her, “you’re dealing with a true monster. Try not to get eaten.”

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