Valkyrie's Shadow

Chapter 1

Sunlight streamed through the curtains of the nearby window, spilling over the bed to set a thousand glittering diamonds aflame. Any awe over the dazzling sight was suppressed by the solemn atmosphere, however, and Ludmila gave Clara’s trembling hand a squeeze. Her friend squeezed her back in reply, and together they looked across the bed at the third figure in the room.

Dressed in the luxurious maid outfit customary to the Sorcerer King’s household, Miss Pestonya waited expectantly. An audible swallow rose from Clara, and she finally nodded. Pestonya raised her arms.

“「True Resurrection」!”

A magic circle formed over the bed, suffusing the carpet of diamonds with an angelic blue hue. Ludmila held her breath, and Clara did the same...

The magical light faded, and the sun reasserted its dominance. The bed, however, no longer glittered with diamonds.

Clara leaned forward slightly over the silken sheets. She sent a questioning look in Miss Pestonya’s direction. The Sorcerer King’s housekeeper only shook her head silently in return. Clara’s hand grew cold, tightening its grip. Ludmila quickly spoke.

“Thank you, Miss Pestonya,” she said. “Please don’t let us keep you here.”

A Gate opened on Miss Pestonya’s side of the bed. With one last, respectful nod, she disappeared through the portal.

“It failed,” Clara’s voice was filled with disbelief. “Wh–”

A violent sob racked her shoulders, and her wails rose to fill the room. Tears streaming down her own cheeks, Ludmila brought them to sit down on a long sofa.

“I worked so hard,” Clara said between shuddering breaths. “I wanted them to come back and see. I wanted to see the proud look on father’s face…”

Clara’s sobs started anew, and she clutched at Ludmila desperately. It was something that they all felt. In the wake of catastrophe, unprecedented peace and prosperity had come to their lands. House Corelyn, especially, had grown from its small barony between E-Rantel and the Katze River to a burgeoning County that controlled the majority of the fertile Riverlands.

After discovering that Ludmila had been resurrected several times in Adventurer training, Clara started considering whether it was possible to bring their families back. It was something that they did not dare to hope over, at first, but as they grew accustomed to the new administration and developed a sense of its needs, Clara became reasonably confident that it would work.

The Sorcerous Kingdom had Elder Liches aplenty to act as clerks and scribes, collecting and organizing information. What it lacked were skilled and loyal administrators capable of making the appropriate decisions based on that information, the nation’s policies, and the needs of its people.

One of the reasons why Clara had catapulted so far ahead of everyone else was because she was building a case for the excellence of House Corelyn. Little did they know that, despite receiving the approval of the Royal Court, the resurrection would be rejected by the recipient himself. Clara had meant for the return of her father to be a kindling of hope for the others – showing that their lost fathers, brothers and sons could be brought back to them. Now, Ludmila wondered how much fresh heartbreak it would bring if everyone tried.

Several hours later, after their grief had abated, Clara quietly lay with her head on Ludmila’s lap. Ludmila idly stroked Clara’s strands of shimmering golden hair, as if the movement might be keeping her calm somehow.

“It is time to go,” Clara said at long last. “There is nothing left for us here.”

Ludmila’s hand stopped, and she looked down at Clara.

“Will your household be alright?” She asked.

“They must have heard me weeping this entire time,” Clara replied. “I am sure they have figured out what has happened. As long as I continue to lead House Corelyn, they should be fine.”

Clara’s amethyst eyes turned up at her.

“And as long as I have you, I will be fine.”

Ludmila poked her in the cheek, eliciting a smile. They got up and straightened out their frumpled dresses, and Ludmila went to check the hallway. Outside the door to the solar, she found Clara’s lady’s maid, Taiya Aramis, waiting. Her eyes were red and raw, but she rose from her seat to look towards Ludmila tentatively.

“My lady…?”

“We’re moving,” Clara appeared from behind Ludmila. “Let the others know.”

Countess Corelyn’s voice carried a resolve harder than Adamantite, and Taiya’s response was immediate.

“Yes, my lady.”

With a quick curtsey, she swiftly headed back down the corridor. Clara walked over towards her room.

“Will you be staying to help?” She asked.

“I do not have any commitments scheduled until tomorrow,” Ludmila answered, “so I should be able to remain for at least that long. It will take a long time to move everything, though – your wardrobe alone will take over a week.”

Clara shot her a look over her shoulder.

“I don’t have that much.”

“You do.”

“Well, we have the Death Knights to help, so it will be quick.”

Ludmila walked over to the bedroom window, peeking down at the yard.

“What about the manor gardens? Your family has been cultivating them for generations.”

“We’re moving the entire grounds to one of the castle gardens. I’m certainly not leaving your favourite part of the manor behind.”

Ludmila settled down beside Clara, helping her sort out one of her drawers. The sounds of the Corelyn household beginning their work rose from downstairs. Clara’s burst of energy drained away by noon, and they stopped to refresh themselves with a light lunch.

“So even with Surshana’s approval,” her friend muttered softly to herself, “the individual will of the soul still matters.”

Ludmila paused, a piece of bread soaked in stew half-raised to her mouth.

“I have been meaning to ask,” Ludmila said. “Have you personally seen His Majesty?”

“Yes,” Clara replied.

“You have been to the Theocracy on pilgrimage several times. There must have been frescoes, ancient tapestries and relics…the art of the great cathedrals…”

Clara took a few spoonfuls of her own stew, taking her time with it before answering.

“Have you travelled much around my demesne?” She asked.

“I have only looked around the harbour for any great period of time,” Ludmila answered.

“Well, what you have probably noticed in the harbour town is much the same as everywhere else.”

“Then–”

Clara held her gaze while shaking her head.

“If it is, then it is. Either way, our duties do not change. Why the sudden interest, anyway?”

“I saw His Majesty for the first time over a month ago,” Ludmila told her. “It was right after everything happened. Recently, I have learned some other things about myself. Dame Verilyn says that something like this does not just happen. It has to be facilitated somehow. And it has to be allowed.”

Clara slowly rolled a mouthful of dark wine over her tongue, a thoughtful expression on her face.

“What did His Majesty say about it?”

“I am not sure if he said anything at all,” Ludmila replied. “I took one look at him and ran away.”

“You fled from our sovereign? Ludmila…”

Embarrassment crept up Ludmila’s neck.

“I-it is different for me,” her voice was heated. “I do not see him as Humans do. It is like…like Lady Shalltear whenever you hear her speak of His Majesty, amplified to an overwhelming degree. I never imagined that it would be in this state that I would first feel like this about a man.”

“Is it really that bad?”

“It is.”

Even the memory of the Sorcerer King still bothered her. She did not think she could ever get used to it.

“Your…physiological reactions aside,” Clara told her, “I do not think you should share those thoughts about the origin of your existence with anyone else.”

“Even with what is happening in your demesne?”

“Especially with what is going on in my demesne,” Clara said. “Faith is a wonderful thing, but it can also turn into something terrible. The people here are confident in the rightness of their path and the sound leadership of the realm. We have achieved an ideal balance that these territories have never seen before. However, it is possible that the faith of the people might be pushed too far in an attempt to edify it.”

Ludmila furrowed her brow, trying to envision what her friend described.

“And what would it look like if it was pushed too far?”

“Not very much different from what you see right now, I suspect,” Clara replied. “Which is the scariest part about it. It will have advanced too far by the time you have realized the problem. His Majesty keeps a strictly secular government, and he has given no indication that he wishes to interfere with religious affairs. I believe that this is one of the reasons why.”

“So you do believe that he’s–”

“I do,” Clara said. “Which makes it a priceless honour to be a noble in His Majesty’s service, do you not agree?”

It wasn’t a matter of agreeing or not. It simply was, without question. A god had come to walk amongst them, and they were in the enviable position of being his subjects. To followers of The Six, it was the answer to a heartfelt prayer; a return to a time thought forever lost.

“You know I do,” Ludmila replied. “But I do not understand how my existence would influence the people’s faith.”

“Consider what you said just now,” Clara told her. “That your new existence must have been facilitated somehow, and it had to have been allowed. Surshana holds purview over the souls of humanity. Your Human soul has been allowed to return in the form of a being that is Undead: a state associated with our god of death. That you are a Noble and an adherent of Surshana just nudges things along. Once your existence enters the imagination of the public, you will end up as the Chosen of Surshana – proof of our god’s blessing upon the people and our realm. After that, they will saint you and give you a portable shrine to carry around.”

“I must have missed that memo.”

“It does not matter that you did,” Clara smirked. “People believe what they want to believe.”

Another reason to remain silent on the matter of her existence and its purpose. As if unknowingly making enemies of Dragons and shadowy necromantic organizations wasn’t bad enough…

“What about merchants and travellers from the Theocracy?” Ludmila asked, “The amount of traffic going to and from the south is steadily increasing.”

“They do not stop in E-Rantel,” Clara answered, “but they have probably picked out the details of those statues from the crossroads by now. I suppose that the people of the Theocracy are who I am mostly worried about these days. As a nation, they should have sent their agents over to take a look around, and the Temples of The Six here regularly report to their superiors in the south. There is no way that the High Council of the Slane Theocracy is unaware of what has happened here.”

“What does it mean for them?”

“For those well-grounded in the faith, well educated and possessing experience in the wide world, they might be considered to be like us, save for being raised in a place where the temples have more power. It is the common folk of recent generations that have become a cause for growing concern. The foreign policy of the Slane Theocracy has grown increasingly aggressive since the time of the Demon Gods, and the way they have been influencing the masses has been altered to match.”

This was something that the faithful in the duchy felt keenly when dealing with their brethren from the south. Due to a combination of circumstances, those in the Sorcerous Kingdom practised a version of the faith reminiscent of the times before the Demon Gods. It was what was best suited for the faith’s Evangelists and Missionaries to bring to a land where the Temples had no power beyond what was commonly recognized as their purview.

It wasn’t just in how the masses were directed, but the way that the Theocracy moved in the shadows of the northern kingdoms, too. As a Frontier Noble, their longtime assistance with deadly threats to the border had always been a welcome thing. As Ludmila became more aware of other matters, however, she noticed where their southern neighbour might be doing more than just helping to keep dangers to humanity suppressed.

“What is the purpose in doing that?”

“Of that, I have no idea,” Clara replied. “Creating suitable public outlook for pursuing territorial and ideological objectives, perhaps. What I do know for sure is that the people as a whole have started to lose their way. Faith is being supplanted by fanaticism, and that fanaticism has taken on a life of its own. It is to the point that I question whether they follow the same scriptures, or if they follow what they collectively believe the scriptures to say without proper study or guidance.”

In other words, popular notions rather than correct ones could seize control of the consensus. From there, the situation could go in any direction.

“The High Council of the Theocracy would not allow this situation to stand,” Ludmila said.

“It was the High Council of the Theocracy that initiated this whole shift in national attitudes,” Clara replied, “but I agree. In the wake of the Demon Gods, they started the great seeding and spread humanity throughout the region. They have been increasingly active in espionage, politics and military actions. Everything they have done has been purposeful, but something went wrong recently. Now, they are stuck with a population with the sort of thinking that they thought would be suited for whatever their objective was supposed to be by this point.”

“What can they do to solve it?”

“I am not sure that they can,” Clara sighed. “It is the exact reason why I do not wish for anything of the sort to happen here. The Theocracy invested generations into this, and now all they can probably do is hope that calms down before it runs off without them. I pray that they will be able to as well: they are our brothers and sisters in the faith, not our enemies.”

Clara left many things unspoken between them, but they were both well aware of the crisis looming on the horizon. The faithful of the Sorcerous Kingdom held the truth close to their hearts, content that better times had come. The people of the Theocracy, however…

What would happen if they discovered that the greatest of The Six had returned?

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