Valkyrie's Shadow

Chapter 1

22nd Day, Middle Fire Month, 1 CE

“There! There he is, sister!”

A cry of warning sounded beside Remedios Custodio. She frowned at the man frantically shaking her by the vambrace.

“Who?”

“Him!” The man pointed, “The Smiling Demon!”

Remedios’ gaze followed the man’s stabbing finger to the rooftops on the other side of the street. Her eyes met Liam’s, who smiled and waved. The patrol nearby raised their halberds warily in response.

That cheeky little…

“I don’t see any Demons,” Remedios said.

“Th-that’s just what everyone calls him! He’s the Assassin killing people all over the Holy Kingdom!”

Powerful Fiends were said to have the natural ability to cast teleportation-type magic, but she was reasonably certain that it wasn’t the case with Liam.

“That’s a serious claim you’re making,” Remedios said. “Do you have any proof?”

“No, but–”

“Citizens are innocent until proven guilty, armsman,” Remedios said. “According to House Restelo, that man’s one of their thief-takers.”

“But, but, you don’t understand…”

“What I understand is that all the people pointing fingers at him for the last two weeks are lucky he hasn’t pressed defamation charges. Lord Ovar is free to bring their accusations to court, but he had better not be wasting anyone’s time.”

The man immediately clammed up. The royalists had already failed to make their accusations stick to Liam once. Failing to do so again would further undermine their already shaky position in the capital.

As no one else had anything to say, Remedios resumed her patrol, silently shaking her head.

“I’m starting to think that ‘Smiling Demon’ is doing a better job than us at keeping the peace,” she muttered. “Assassin my ass. You’d think he’s from Ijaniya with half of the city terrified of him.”

Her partner, a fellow senior Paladin named Ortiz, chuckled at her griping.

“Everyone’s jumping at shadows like fresh conscripts on the wall,” he said. “Facts hold no sway when people are like that. At least the peace is being maintained. I was half afraid that a war would break out between House Restelo and everyone else right here in Hoburns.”

The fact that Ortiz could even think that was worrying in itself. So much had changed from the way things were before Jaldabaoth’s invasion.

In the past, a patrol in Hoburns involved putting on her best smile, chatting amicably with the citizens, and stopping to play with the children that always swarmed around her. Now, people only came to her to express their fears, everyone kept to themselves as they went about their daily business, and parents hid their children at home because it was too dangerous for them to go outside. It was hard to smile in the face of all that.

She wondered where it had all gone wrong. Of course, it had started with Jaldabaoth, but what happened after that was much murkier. Carla and Liam had offered explanations from their perspectives and placed blame on the Royal Court and its policies, but she had a sense that something else was going on.

Things were flying apart so rapidly that she couldn’t help but believe it was planned. It had taken Calca years to bring even the slightest bit of meaningful progress to the Holy Kingdom. Now, it felt like the country was being forcefully warped by a hidden hand.

“Custodio.”

Ortiz’s voice snapped her out of her thoughts. The other Paladin was standing across the street where he had been stopped by several men in labourer’s outfits. Remedios walked over to join them.

“What’s going on?” She asked.

“We saw something in that alley, sister!” One of the labourers said.

“What did you see?”

“I don’t know. Something. Restelo must be up to no good!”

Remedios peered into the shadows of the alley, then looked at Ortiz.

“Did you see anything?”

“Nope.”

She sighed and strolled between the buildings. The surroundings were clean, if damp. Most of the odds and ends one would expect had been cleared away, which was actually quite nice.

“See anything?” Ramirez called from the street.

“Not really…”

Remedios turned into a back alley, seeing more of the same. A shadow descended upon her after two dozen steps.

“You have some business here, miss?”

“Demons, apparently,” Remedios replied. “Don’t tell me you did that on purpose.”

“Did what?” Liam put on an innocent look.

She narrowed her eyes at the young man. Cheeky didn't even begin to describe him.

“Wait,” Remedios leaned closer, “Is that a woman’s perfume?”

“Uh…no?” Liam stepped away.

Remedios held his gaze for several moments, then shrugged.

“Well, that’s none of my business. Just make sure you treat her right.”

Liam sighed, putting on a long-suffering look. So there was someone.

“House Restelo is expanding its influence again,” he said. “Have you heard anything about it?”

“I’m not exactly in a position to ‘hear anything’,” Remedios told him. “Montagnés is the Grandmaster, not me.”

“According to Sir Jorge, it’ll be the rest of Fire Street, right up to the Fire Gate.”

“That means House Restelo will control a quarter of Hoburns. Can they handle it?”

“They shipped in another two companies for security,” Liam said, “plus additional artisans for the camp to meet the increased demand for goods. I’m more worried about royalist pressure. Last night, I caught six guys sneaking around.”

“Did you send them to us?”

“I couldn’t just let them do their thing. Sir Jimena booked them for trespassing.”

Trespassing wouldn’t land them in the Holy Order office, but it still meant they were entering people’s shops and homes in the middle of the night.

“Do you have any idea what they were up to?” Remedios asked.

“No,” Liam replied. “They all know the drill already. I guess when people get caught all the time, they figure out how to not get in trouble after being caught.”

The way he said it, it sounded like people were turning being a sneak into a profession. She hoped that didn’t mean they would have an outbreak of Rogues at some point. Paladins weren’t so great at detecting them.

“I’ll see what Montagnés has to say about it. Nothing’s changed on our end, as far as I know.”

Liam nodded and scaled the alley wall with startling speed. Remedios returned to the street, where Ortiz and the group of labourers were waiting with expectant looks.

“What?” Remedios frowned.

“Did you see anything, sister?” A labourer asked.

“I saw a lot of things.”

“Such as…”

“Nothing that shouldn’t have been there,” Remedios told him. “Let’s move, Ortiz.”

Her partner fell into step beside her and they continued their patrol around the western districts.

“These people are more jumpy than fresh conscripts on the wall,” Remedios muttered.

“It’s quite a sight to see,” Ramirez replied, “but it’s understandable.”

“Understandable? What about any of this is understandable? The same time last year, this street was filled with life! Now it’s…it’s like walking through a city in Re-Estize. Actually, it’s worse.”

“Hmm…I suppose that’s a pretty good way to put it,” Ramirez said. “I saw a lot of the same thing while we were running around back then.”

Thirty minutes later, they arrived at Rimun Gate. A Knight by the name of Jimena rose to greet them as they entered the captain’s office.

“Sister Custodio. Brother Ortiz. Good to see you this evening.”

“Sir Jimena,” Remedios nodded. “Anything out of the ordinary to report?”

“Nothing that’s out of the ordinary by today’s standards. Let me guess: the other houses claim we have a colony of Imps in the sewers roasting people over hot coals.”

“Do you?”

Sir Jimena snorted, picking up a folder from the desk.

“You are more than welcome to take a look for yourself, Sister Custodio,” he held the folder out between them. “For our part, here’s the summary for the day.”

Remedios took the proffered documents and flipped through them. There were a total of eighteen incidents, but only half of them had happened at night.

“What do you make of these altercations during the day?” Remedios asked, “They seem to be getting worse.”

“The claims are growing wilder by the day,” Sir Jimena said, “but that’s about the extent of it. I’m thankful that the Holy Order had the foresight to dispatch patrols around the perimeter of our jurisdiction.”

“So you believe that the situation would have been worse if not for our presence?”

“It pains me to say so, but yes. The other houses are acting like crabs in a bucket: I’ve no idea how low they’ll stoop to undermine our success.”

“I see,” Remedios said. “Well, we haven’t noted anything aside from the usual claims about Demons and such. Have a pleasant evening, Sir Jimena.”

They continued along their patrol route, skirting the northern edge of House Restelo’s jurisdiction. After listening to another dozen bouts of fearful hysterics – Liam was present at half of them – they returned to the Holy Order office on the palace grounds.

“Good work out there,” Gustav looked up from the front desk.

“Why is the Grandmaster working the front desk?” Remedios said.

“I think you’re the only one who doesn’t work the front desk,” Gustav replied.

“I could take over for you, Captain.”

The Grandmaster fell silent. He was the one who wouldn’t let her, though she couldn’t figure out why. She could look just as good – well, better – and be just as pleasant as any Merchant Guild receptionist.

“Anything new in the court, Captain?” Ortiz asked.

“House Restelo is being awarded a new jurisdiction,” Gustav said. “I suspect that our patrols will end up dealing with more of the same.”

“Is there truth to any of the rumours being thrown around?”

“Not that we know of,” Gustav replied. “At least I haven’t personally seen any Scale Demons pub crawling in the west quarter. Your results may vary depending on how drunk you get.”

“What about the problems with the citizens?” Remedios asked, “They may have been distracted by the tension between the houses recently, but they’re suffering all the same.”

A whole pile of issues had reared their heads all at once. In the midst of the increasing difficulty of getting by in the city, the Holy King’s conscription order was still in force. Thousands of people had left or were attempting to leave the city, trying to find seasonal work in the countryside. Measures to carry out the Holy King’s conscription turned Hoburns into a veritable prison as each house worked to prevent escapees while they tried to fill their quotas. That same order was also straining regional supply lines since they had to provision a whole new army.

“The Temples have petitioned the Royal Court for succour,” Gustav said, “but things are dubious. The northern grain harvest is close, so the south believes that additional resources are unnecessary. They’ve already pivoted to a lighter approach when it comes to supporting the north, primarily consisting of manpower for security, administrative support, and skilled labour for industries gutted during the war. The numbers presented to the court indicate that the northern Holy Kingdom will be able to weather the winter in good condition and now they’re expecting the north to begin remunerating them for their assistance.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Remedios said. “All those damn Nobles have to do is stick their heads outside the Prime Estates to realise that their expectations are unrealistic. No one’s paying anyone anything when they can barely afford to eat.”

“His Divine Grace doesn’t see it that way, nor does anyone in the Royal Court. They’re already discussing repayment schedules.”

“I guess they’re really trying to see if they can make a stone bleed,” Ortiz said. “That’s going to directly affect our duties.”

“It does seem that way,” Gustav said, “but, then again, we’re not the experts when it comes to managing the recovery. Things may not be as grim as we think.”

The lukewarm response was one entirely expected out of Gustav. Some considered it ‘reasonable behaviour’ and those who loved to worm around with words and bureaucracy favoured dealing with Gustav over any other member of the Holy Order. Those same traits also made him a piss poor Paladin as Paladins drew their strength from conviction.

“But what if they are?” Remedios asked, “Trust is what binds our people together. Trust in their fellow citizens; trust in their leaders. Trust in the Temples and the Holy Order. I can barely see any of that trust anymore…and I know exactly what I’d do if I discover that my trust has been betrayed.”

“The Holy Order serves the Crown, Custodio,” Gustav said.

“The Holy Order serves the Holy Kingdom!” Remedios told him, “We swore an oath to protect the Holy Kingdom and its people, and the Holy Kingdom is not only the Crown. Queen Calca was the greatest sovereign in the history of our country because she placed the justice of the Holy Kingdom above her personal desires. That is why we were proud to serve her and cherish her ideals. Can you say the same of her brother?”

Remedios stormed out of the office. Gustav’s silence in the wake of her words told her everything that she needed to know.

She crossed the palace grounds, making her way to its southern wing where the Great Cathedral stood resplendent in the evening light. That she had come at all was a testament to her desperation, as the Temples of the Four were now dominated by a priesthood that heavily favoured the south – mostly because nearly all of the Northern Patriarchate led by Kelart was dead. Still, Gustav said they had petitioned the Royal Court for succour, which suggested that they were looking out for the people.

Remedios ascended the wide stairway to the towering double doors of the cathedral, which stood open as if to welcome one and all. She ignored the stares and hushed gossip of the Acolytes cleaning the interior, striding straight toward an unfamiliar senior Priest tending to a group of supplicants. They were members of one of the Noble families living in the Prime Estates, two of whom had come down with some disease.

After curing them of their ills, the Priest sent the family away with the blessings of the gods. The family’s serene looks evaporated the moment they turned around and found Remedios standing behind them.

“Sister Custodio,” the Priest said as the family scurried around her. “What a rare occasion.”

“Is the Vicar in?”

“May I know what your business with Father Salazar is?”

“No.”

The Priest blinked at her curt response. Several seconds passed before he turned to walk away. Then, he stopped when Remedios fell into step behind him.

“Sister Custodio…”

“Let’s not waste any time.”

A long sigh rose as the Priest’s shoulders slumped. He led her out of the cathedral and to the centre of the temple grounds where, to Remedios’ great annoyance, he stopped in front of the Patriarch’s office.

“Father Salazar,” the Priest knocked on the door lightly, “Sister Custodio is here to see you.”

Half a minute passed before the Priest knocked again. This time, audible movement could be detected through the door.

“Father–”

The door opened. A blushing Acolyte whose buxom figure could clearly be discerned under her plain robes slipped into the corridor and quickly walked away. Remedios’ mood grew foul and the senior Priest gave her a furtive look as they continued to wait at the entrance to the office.

A man cleared his throat from within the room.

“Enter.”

Remedios threw open the door, her sharp gaze scanning over the contents of the office. The windows were open and a warm breeze sent loose papers fluttering about. She had been to the Patriarch’s office countless times, yet it felt alien to her now. Perhaps it couldn’t be helped since the entire temple complex had been ransacked during its occupation by Jaldabaoth’s Demihuman armies.

Divided into three sections, the Patriarch’s office was supposed to be just that – an office. New furniture had been installed to replace what had been ruined, but it looked like one of the archives had been converted into a bedchamber. Another young female Acolyte didn’t quite hide herself in time within it. In front of her, a rather plain-looking middle-aged man looked at her nervously from behind his desk.

“Leave us,” Remedios told the Priest.

The Vicar flinched at the sound of the closing door. His reaction only drew a crease between Remedios’ eyebrows. Even the High Priest of the Temples of the Four in the Holy Kingdom answered to the judgement of the Holy Order, and his behaviour only made it seem like he was being subjected to an inquisition.

“Did His Divine Grace send you?” Vicar Salazar asked.

“No,” Remedios answered.

“Then why–”

“The people are suffering. The Temples submitted a petition today. What was the result?”

Relief ebbed off of the Vicar in tangible waves. He straightened in his seat and folded his hands atop the desk.

“Arrangements are still being deliberated over.”

“And what’s this I hear about ‘repayment’?”

“It should be as it sounds,” the Vicar said. “The south poured a tremendous amount of resources into the north’s recovery, but they must build up their winter stores just as the north does.”

“The south still has an autumn harvest to look forward to,” Remedios said. “Why are they so insistent on having the north use its sole harvest to repay them?”

“They claim it will all balance out,” Salazar seemed to shrug. “The Temples have heard the concerns of the people, however – that’s precisely why we’ve submitted that petition. Within the next few days, I expect a more than adequate arrangement will be made to relieve the worst of what the citizens must endure.”

Remedios wondered how much of the Vicar’s response was the southern Nobles speaking through him. Kelart always said that the Southern Patriarchate and the southern aristocracy were so politically and economically intertwined that they may as well be a single establishment, and the south had even gotten its hooks into members of the Northern Patriarchate. Her sister had spent most of her career as High Priest of the Temples of the Four carefully untangling the mess. The Demon Emperor’s invasion had put a stop to that and the ‘recovery efforts’ after the war had likely all but reversed any progress that Kelart had made.

“I highly doubt that the citizens will care about any reassuring ‘arrangements’ while they’re starving to death,” Remedios said. “And they won’t be happy at all about their harvest being taken away.”

“Surely, you exaggerate, Sister Custodio,” the Vicar’s lip twitched. “More informed individuals than you and I have exhaustively explored the Holy Kingdom’s options and our current course is undoubtedly the best one. Barely four months have passed since the end of the war and we’ll be seeing a complete return to normal life by spring.”

She couldn’t see how that could be. Absolutely nothing in Hoburns pointed to anything remotely like a return to normal life.

“Sister Custodio,” Salazar smiled, “perhaps you’ve allowed what’s going on in front of you to cloud your perception. Broadly speaking, the Holy Kingdom is doing remarkably well. Nearly every statistic collected from across the north shows this to be the case. The cities lie at the end of the supply chain, but, rest assured, the summer harvest will come in well before your concerns are given form.”

Not a single word was spared for the spiritual well-being of the people. It was as if the Vicar fully expected them to simply wait for whatever figures he was presented to manifest themselves and then society would miraculously return to its former state. It was exactly the way that the southern aristocracy thought: that people were broadly uneducated, ignorant, and prone to forgetting any bad history if distracted for long enough.

Trying to think of ways to sway Salazar was likely pointless, so Remedios left the Vicar to continue whatever he was doing. After exiting the palace grounds, she went straight back home. Carla greeted her with a curtsey in the foyer.

“Welcome back, Miss Custodio.”

“Uh-huh.”

The Maid accompanied her back to her solar, where she helped put Remedios’ things away before tackling her armour.

“It seems like you’ve had a long day, Miss Custodio.”

“It feels like every day is a ‘long day’ these days,” Remedios said as she unstrapped a bracer. “You know what? You’re from the south. How close are the Temples to the nobility there?”

“That would depend on where you are,” Carla replied. “I believe I understand what you’re asking, though. The Southern Patriarchate works much more closely with the aristocratic establishment than the north does.”

“Isn’t that a bad thing?”

“Not necessarily. A certain degree of cooperation between the Temples and the establishment is conducive to a harmonious realm. When it comes to ‘bad things’, I think the Northern Patriarchate is more at risk of being influenced by the nobility.”

Remedios held her arms out as Carla unfastened her breastplate.

“One would think that being in the south results in being exposed to stronger southern influences.”

“The reason is fairly obvious,” Carla said. “The Temples own one-third of all land in the Holy Kingdom. While this inevitably results in political and economic involvement, they’re also not financially reliant on the citizens and the aristocracy as they are in Re-Estize and Baharuth. If they must make a moral stand, they can do so without fear of being cut off from their sources of funding.”

“I still don’t get how that makes the Northern Patriarchate more vulnerable…”

“Because not only have they lost the majority of their members, but the precariae have also been given over to southern Nobles to manage. They lack the organisational strength that they once had and are also now in the same position as the Temples in Re-Estize and Baharuth. Given what the royalists have resorted to thus far, coercing the Temples is not outside of the realm of possibility.”

Great.

They needed another Liam. One for the Temples.

“How can we counter that?” Remedios asked.

“I’m afraid it’s the same counter as always, Miss Custodio. Just as the cities need the Royal Army back, the Temples need their lands back. Unfortunately, they are in no condition to reassume the management of their lands. That cannot happen until a new generation of Temple staff has been trained. The Crown needs both the Royal Army and the Temples to stand on its own, so Caspond will remain reliant on the royalists until that happens.”

And how many years will that take?

Their situation was akin to what a General might face in a war, where one could only helplessly watch while divisions that took years to train were destroyed and the enemy ruthlessly exploited the resulting openings. She was beginning to understand why Caspond was little more than a figurehead. Even if he wanted to do something, he lacked the power to do it.

No, that’s not right. Calca started out in a crappy situation too, but she managed to pull everything off.

Caspond was simply not suited to be the Holy King. He couldn’t rally the Nobles behind him, nor could he win the love of the people. His cold, distant, demeanour had left him with no one to trust and the lot that supported him only seemed to want to exploit the Crown for their own ends.

Remedios stepped into her bath, reaching out for a half-used bar of Kalinsha Soap. There had to be something they could do.

“Do you think the conservatives will just sit there watching everything fall apart?” She asked.

“I think they’ll do everything that they can to oppose what’s going on,” Carla answered as she worked Remedios’ hair into a lather. “The problem is that things are deteriorating too quickly. The war officially ended a month after spring and we’re only now just halfway through summer. Duke Debonei rallying the conservatives into a cohesive new political movement in a month is already a spectacular feat in itself.”

“But they’re waiting for Prince Felipe to arrive with this year’s trade fleet before acting,” Remedios said. “Who knows how strong the royalists will be by then?”

“I doubt the conservatives will be doing nothing while they wait,” Carla said. “They’ll at least be positioning themselves for a potential civil conflict shortly after the Prince arrives. That in itself requires a monumental effort, both in the north and the south. But I suppose you’re right about not being able to expect anything radical.”

Radical, huh.

Remedios blew a pile of bubbles out of her palm, watching them fly out the nearby window to be caught by the evening breeze. With each passing day, she grew more convinced that something radical would be required to uphold the Holy Kingdom’s justice.

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