Valkyrie's Shadow

Chapter 5

“So, you decided to play right into their hands.”

A whole roast boar occupied the main table in the hall of Ward Manor. Following over a week of work along the Wyvernmark’s borders, Ludmila finally completed her circuit, ending up back in Ward Barony.

The Lord of Ward spoke in a tone that carried his displeasure over the results. At first, the Commanders of the Fifth Legion and their divisions were shocked when she appeared at their garrisons with squads of Death-series servitors and started putting whole companies through their paces together with them. As the days passed and she went from garrison to garrison, however, that initial shock turned into grim resolution.

As it was in the interior, rumours in the Empire seemed to grow wings of their own accord. That the situation in the Wyvernmark had long been in the making meant that changes to that situation – both potential and real – were acted upon immediately. The Sixth Legion learned of the Death-series servitors being positioned on the border and shifted their stance to take advantage of those changes. The Fifth Legion’s stubborn resistance disintegrated in response to the immediate threat represented by the Sixth Legion’s shift in stance.

In a strange mockery of the Imperial Army’s vaunted professional discipline, the two Legions moved in lock-step despite their opposition to one another. Not only did the Legions move, but civilian agencies as well. Guilds issued advisories to their members and word spread about the increasingly volatile situation in the Wyvernmark.

“I have my priorities, my lord,” Ludmila replied. “No matter the situation, I had to initiate the integration of supplementary forces ordered by my government.”

Baron Ward took a long draught of his foam-topped mug, brushing off his moustache with a thumb. While he outwardly appeared sour over the outcome, Ludmila couldn’t sense any genuine antagonism from the venerable Frontier Noble. There was no point in confronting someone over duty.

“Did you speak with General Gregan?” He asked.

“I did,” the corner of her lip turned down. “I may consider stubbornness a form of resilience on occasion, but I don’t think that can be applied here. Has anything like this happened before?”

“Not that I can recall,” Lord Ward said. “It’s entirely expected, though. Each Legion is meant to operate as an independent army group within their assigned jurisdiction, answerable only to the Emperor. Every General is used to being, well, the General. Everyone sticks to their respective chains of command and that’s exactly the way it’s supposed to be.”

On paper, it seemed perfectly fine. One could even say it was shrewdly conceived. Every Legion had its own jurisdiction and every General was accustomed to wielding absolute authority over their army group. By promoting this independent mentality and keeping each army group distinct and separate from one another, not only did the Imperial Army keep things neat and organised, but coups stemming from collaboration between armies were next to impossible as the Legions held each other in check.

“General Kabein seemed reasonable enough.”

“The same could be said for every General,” Baron Ward replied. “As long as the chain of command is clear, there’s no problem. At Katze, we’d have multiple Generals present but the Emperor would always appoint one as commander-in-chief. There’s no such distinction here: the Fifth and Sixth Legions have their respective duties and are operating in their assigned jurisdictions as intended.”

“Pursuit of these ‘respective duties’ is rapidly fostering antagonism between your two army groups.”

“I can’t deny that,” Lord Ward said. “It doesn’t sit well with me, but we’re locked in a stalemate by design in an unprecedented situation. The Imperial Army operates on a framework of rules; order is held sacred. Short of getting His Imperial Majesty to order General Gregan to order his Commanders to stand down, the Sixth Legion won’t stop. The Fifth Legion similarly will not abandon its duties. Would it be any different for you, my lady?”

Ludmila knew that it wouldn’t be. If she was assigned a task, she would pursue its completion to the utmost of her ability. The only one who could countermand her orders was an authority higher than that which had issued those orders.

“No, my lord,” Ludmila replied, “but what is going on here seems less a matter of order and more a matter of inflexibility. One side is adamant about implementing a certain solution and neither side is willing to relinquish its position. Both sides simply agree to disagree and they carry on as before. As far as General Gregan has told me, Arwintar has issued no orders or statements in favour of either side or anything at all for that matter.”

“I suspect you know why that is.”

“Knowing why doesn’t make me feel any better about it,” she said. “The Royal Court of the Sorcerous Kingdom has asked a question. The Court Council of the Baharuth Empire has given their answer. Now, it is up to the Imperial Army to provide the details. All imperial elements are playing things strictly by the book, believing that the book will at least provide them with plausible deniability if undesirable outcomes occur.”

Beside Baron Ward, Joachim Ward looked up from his meal.

“If the state of affairs displeases you, my lady,” he said, “then why not tell them to stop? As a representative of the Sorcerous Kingdom, the Empire is legally obliged to recognise your absolute authority.”

Ludmila glanced at Baron Ward, whose lips drew together in a thin line.

“Did the Temples fill your head with nothing but prayers and nonsense, boy? Or was it that damn Ray?”

The Cleric flinched at the cutting reprimand, casting a wordless look over at his grandfather. Lord Ward shook his head with a sigh.

“All authority comes from something,” Baron Ward told him. “A Noble’s authority is entrusted to them by their liege. The policies and laws of a nation are the guidelines by which a Noble exercises that authority within their jurisdictions. Order is contingent on obligations being upheld, laws being enforced and policies being followed. Doing so requires strength, ability and will. There are lines that she cannot cross because crossing those lines leads to corruption, decay and the collapse of civil society.”

“I am not here to tell the Imperial Army what to do, Priest Ward,” Ludmila said. “I am here to facilitate their answer and ensure that it does not violate the Sorcerous Kingdom’s official policies.”

“I understand that much, my lady,” Joachim replied, “but that essentially means that the Sixth Legion dictates the situation.”

“Legislation should not be disregarded simply because it becomes inconvenient. Amendments to said legislation would ideally be made as problems are identified, but the Court Council is content with their answer. Unless that changes, the Empire has approved of the way that the Sixth Legion is conducting its operation.”

Joachim looked back down at his plate, his face painted with frustration as he sawed meat off of a bone. Though the Faith of the Four had drifted far in its principles from that of The Six, Ludmila thought that she could empathise with their position. They still looked out for the well-being of their congregations, yet had no authority in the secular Empire.

All they could do was watch powerlessly, waiting to react to whatever came. Doing so would often mean that they were the only ones helping to pick up the pieces of lives shattered by soulless bureaucratic machinations.

“If you don’t mind my asking, my lady,” Baron Ward said. “In our situation, what would constitute a ‘policy violation’ from the perspective of the Sorcerous Kingdom?”

“There are two instances where I will act in opposition,” Ludmila told him. “The first is if the Empire uses their leased security forces in a way that breaches their terms of service. Since the Death-series servitors have been assigned to the Fifth Legion, it’s clear that they understand this as well and have eliminated the possibility. The second instance would be if the Empire wages an unjustified war with an officially recognised state. Since the Empire is expanding into ‘unclaimed wilderness’, however, the risk of that is nonexistent unless they end up attacking the Kingdoms on the other side.”

“Then it looks like they’ve covered themselves pretty well,” Lord Ward said. “The chains of duty bind us all.”

Baron Ward set his emptied plate aside, calling for a fresh mug of ale. Ludmila nodded and smiled as the footman came over to refill her drink as well. She cradled the steaming cup of spiced wine in her hands.

“My question is whether they’re doing things this way because they want to, or if they’re doing it because they haven’t considered their other options.”

“What do you mean by that, my lady?”

“It’s something I’ve noted both in my time with the Second Legion and while working in the Wyvernmark,” Ludmila said. “The Empire legally allows Demihumans to exist in its lands so long as its laws are observed, but I haven’t seen any Demihuman residents. The only Demihumans that I’ve seen travelling unmolested in the Empire were a group of the Sorcerous Kingdom’s Merchants. Additionally, the only other non-Human race I’ve noted living here are Elves…and they were slaves.”

“I hear that at least a few Demihumans live in Arwintar,” the Baron said, “but you should be right about the rest of it. I believe that the laws allowing Demihumans in the Empire are mostly for the benefit of Merchants from the City State Alliance.”

The way that Lord Ward responded indicated that he held no particular antagonism towards Demihumans, yet his recognition of the Empire’s legal acceptance of Demihumans appeared to be nothing more than a container to stick them in. No matter where she went in the Empire, it felt that its citizens all shared the same perspective.

That even those members of ‘fair races’ like Elves were absent the protection of imperial law and subjected to atrocious levels of abuse generated a disturbing undercurrent to the expeditionary army’s campaign. If the Empire saw merit in capturing tribal populations and sending them to the City State Alliance to be sold, the slave trade would see a resurgence and encourage even more of the same activity. Tribes could also bring ‘entertainment value’ to the events of the Grand Arena.

Since the primary mode of thinking that revolved around tribal populations had to do with them being dangerous savages, the possibility that the Empire’s antagonistic behaviour would continue to gain momentum was uncomfortably high.

“The lords of the Wyvernmark and the companies of the Fifth Legion appear to be well-accustomed to the behaviour of the local Demihumans,” Ludmila noted. “You’ve enjoyed over a century of stability and security; have any attempts been made at tying the tribes in the wilderness either economically or politically to the Empire? You yourself expressed anticipation over the idea that your village might grow into a town because of the trade that will flow through this valley after the wilderness is claimed, but have any attempts been made to trade with the wilderness tribes?”

“I can’t say that there have been,” Lord Ward replied. “Not that I know of, at any rate. It’d be an unjustifiable risk to Merchants for unknown gains from tribal Demihumans.”

She couldn’t say he was wrong. Her friends calculated risk, profit and loss like Ludmila calculated ambushes and waged war. At the same time, that appeared to be the stopping point for everything, a sort of ‘well, we thought about it, but…’. Conclusions had been reached with no genuine effort or serious consideration because all they were familiar with were the risks.

“With the Death-series servitors,” she told him, “those risks are greatly reduced. Would it not be better to aim for a relatively low-intensity conquest that integrates the Demihuman tribes instead of aiming for their wholesale annihilation?”

“I believe that a plan like that would be turned down by the Sixth Legion,” Baron Ward told her.

“Why is that? For the most part, the Empire would be in control of the situation.”

“It’s in what you said: control. Also, the Sixth Legion shares a collective purpose in how they’re out to make gains for the Empire and be rewarded in return.”

“So the idea would be rejected not only because the Empire desires absolute control, but because it would mean that its territorial gains would be reduced if softer measures are employed?”

“In short, yes. A rich country and a strong army are key to a successful Empire.”

Ludmila stared down at her wine. Was it because it was the Empire? Because they had long enjoyed a position where Human agendas dictated policy and dominated cultural perspectives? The slogan that the Baron had recited could be found everywhere in the Empire, a part of the vision of prosperity and strength shared by its citizens. Everything was to be turned toward that vision of Human ingenuity, industry and skill. Dangerous and uncontrollable races with their alien habitats, perspectives and values had no place in it.

Was she once like that, as well? Like the lords of the Wyvernmark and the Imperial Army, House Zahradnik had long defended their border from the intrusion of Demihuman tribes. Before the advent of the Sorcerer King and the rise of the Sorcerous Kingdom, she had only considered them as threats and her only ‘interactions’ with them were made in the effort to ensure that they were never in a position to present a critical threat to the Kingdom of Re-Estize.

Mere months ago, Ilyshn’ish remarked that Ludmila still followed ‘Human’ lines of thought. Now, it was as if Ludmila was looking at a reflection of what she once was; of what she might have been if the Sorcerous Kingdom had never appeared and the Empire had annexed E-Rantel. A proud officer of the Imperial Army, idolised by the citizens and her fellow soldiers. A terror to the savage tribes of the wilderness. Not a single thought would be spared for the circumstances of outsiders save for what she could exploit for tactical and strategic advantage.

She looked across the table at the venerable Frontier Noble who had lived a long life of honoured service as a Captain of the Empire.

“My lord,” she said, “has there ever been a time when you’ve thought that being steadfast wasn’t enough?”

Silence fell between them as he considered her question. Shadows of experiences long past crossed his weathered face. Several minutes went by before he looked her in the eye, conviction gleaming in his firm gaze.

“Love can go unrequited; loyalty unrewarded. Talent can go unrecognised and justice can go unserved. Yet, our duty must be upheld if order is to flourish. Beyond that, I’ve found that success and failure are ultimately in the hands of the people involved.”

It was not the staunchly meritocratic view that so many imperial citizens framed the world in. Whether the trials of life had weathered away the polished pretence of an imperial aristocrat or some aspect of his past had balanced his perspective, Baron Ward was a man well aware of the true form of the nation that he served.

For the Empire.

For all of its faults and failures, Baron Ward and millions of others agreed to take their place in a greater order. Not only to preserve what they thought was good but to achieve the hopeful tomorrow handed down to them through the generations; one that they were groomed to look up to in exclusion of all else. She faced a monolith that could not be swayed through the words of an outsider – a vision of the future where the Empire stood prosperous, secure and at the forefront of the world. This vision was laudable in its sentiment, but it was constructed out of flawed perceptions and prideful ignorance, marching its people toward a future that could never be.

It was this vision that needed to change.

“I see,” she rose from her seat. “Thank you for everything, Baron Ward. Please let your household staff know that I’ll be away tonight.”

Lord Ward nodded in silent acknowledgement. Ludmila’s boots echoed off of the polished wooden floor as she made her way towards the exit of the hall.

“What are you going to do, my lady?” Joachim asked.

She stopped at the door frame, throwing a glance in the Cleric’s direction.

“I would be remiss in my duties if I forced the Empire to provide an answer that is not their own,” she said. “But I can at least ensure that the right people are involved.”

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