Valkyrie's Shadow

Chapter 11

“Ow!”

Neia Baraja’s head snapped back after a jounce of the carriage smacked her head against the edge of the cabin’s overhead stowage. She held back her tears as she rubbed her forehead.

“I don’t get it,” she complained. “How can we grow stronger, yet everything still hurts?”

“I thought we talked about that already,” Saye replied. “We don’t get shells or scales or even tough hides. We don't get supernatural protection like Fiends, Angels, Undead, or Elementals. We’re just Humans.”

Neia peered suspiciously out the window at the road before trying to reach for her snacks again. They were two and a half days into their carriage ride from Lloyds to Hoburns and they skipped their lunch stop in favour of making it to the capital before nightfall. Mister Moro was staying behind to make sure the new camps were running smoothly and Mrs Diaz simply ceased to function when there were too many men around, so Neia and Saye went without them.

“That doesn’t seem very fair,” Neia grumbled.

“I don’t know what ‘fair’ has to do with anything,” Saye said, “but I think it’s fine. We don’t have any special defences, but we also don’t have any particular weaknesses. Once you factor in a decent set of equipment, it’s not that big of a difference most of the time.”

“But Demihumans and Heteromorphs can use equipment, as well,” Neia noted.

“Sure, but then their natural weapons and armour become pointless. Sometimes, they can’t even wear crafted armour that’s superior to their natural armour, especially if it’s not magical.”

She found the bag of peppered Lanca jerky she had stashed away and returned to her seat. It still didn’t seem fair to her.

“They’re stronger, too,” Neia pointed out. “Plus they get all sorts of special abilities.”

“That stuff’s useful for the things that they do naturally,” Saye told her, “it usually isn’t when they live in a city or something. For instance, Dragons aren’t going to be using their breath weapons for paperwork or anything. Plus, their crazy strength would break the quill and their claws would shred the paper.”

Neia tore off a piece of jerky with her teeth and sucked on it in silence. No matter how many times the Bard listened to her public speaking, Saye still didn’t seem to understand how crucial it was to be strong. Peace and prosperity; order; justice: they were all too easy to lose without the strength to protect what one had. Thus, being strong was a requirement for everyone.

Weakness was a sin that turned one into a liability, just as Neia had been a liability in the Sorcerer King’s first battle with Jaldabaoth. She didn’t want anyone to go through a similar experience.

“I can already see the hills around Hoburns,” Neia said. “Honestly, I’m more than a bit nervous about coming back.”

“Why?”

“Memories,” Neia replied. “It’s a complicated feeling.”

“You’re not worried about what might happen due to the news?”

“We don’t have any idea about what might happen,” Neia said. “It’s hard to get worried over something you can’t imagine.”

After the wreckage of Prince Felipe’s trade fleet was discovered washing up on the northern coast, both the Corps’ leadership and their conservative allies unanimously agreed to halt their eastward advance. Not only did the fleet’s destruction suggest an imminent threat to the Holy Kingdom, but they didn’t know what it meant for the future course of the country. The Corps continued to construct its strongholds in the Sierra Norte, of course, but all of its other resources were dedicated to security and search and rescue operations.

Two days after that, couriers dispatched from Rimun arrived in Lloyds, bearing the tragic news that fragments of the Water God’s Fury, Prince Felipe’s flagship, had been identified amongst the wreckage. A day later, Duke Debonei invited Neia to join the conservatives in Hoburns to represent Los Ganaderos, as great changes were brewing in the capital that they wouldn’t want to miss out on.

The carriage took an unexpected turn. Neia frowned out of the window, trying to figure out where they were heading.

“We’re going west for some reason,” Neia said as she reached up to open the driver window. “Driver, why have we changed direction?”

“The conservatives are camping west of the capital, Miss Baraja.”

“Camping?”

“You’ll see what I mean soon enough.”

He wasn’t wrong. As they crested the final ridge to the city, a vast vista of tents opened up before them. The fields around Hoburns were as packed – if not more – as the capital when it had been recaptured by the Holy Kingdom Liberation Army.

There must be at least two hundred thousand camped outside of the walls…

The Nobles were clearly treating the threat behind the destruction of Prince Felipe’s fleet with absolute seriousness.

“There are so many people,” Saye said. “How many do you think are soldiers?”

Neia scanned the sprawl of tents surrounding the city.

“Hmm…if you mean trained armsmen, maybe a quarter. A gathering like this is bound to have a lot of camp followers.”

“A gathering like this is bound to stink,” Saye wrinkled her nose. “I hope they don’t expect us to stay with them.”

“Where else can we stay? The city’s probably packed and the Crown took my family’s home away.”

“I have a place in the city,” Saye told her.

“You do?” Neia blinked at the unexpected response.

“Yeah,” the Bard nodded. “I was using Hoburns as a base to explore the surroundings from. With some luck, the people who own the building are still holding my room.”

“I see. That’s lucky for us, I guess.”

If Saye expected her room to still be there, it probably wasn’t something that a Noble would bully themselves into. That wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, though. They had been staying at all sorts of overly pretentious places that stressed her out, so living somewhere small and cosy would be a nice change of pace.

It took them about an hour to reach the highway west of the city, where their carriage came to a stop near a freshly raised camp. Neia looked worriedly at the ground, then sighed in relief when she saw that the fields had been harvested before they were trampled flat by the influx of people. Further west, the crops were still waving in the wind.

“At least the people managing the land here didn’t waste the harvest,” Neia said.

“Why would they?” Saye asked, “It’s valuable, isn’t it?”

“I guess I just expected the Nobles to prioritise their own matters before anyone else’s,” Neia answered. “It’s something you hear about happening all the time in the city.”

“Nobles are the rural elite,” Saye said. “Agriculture, fishing, and forestry are what they depend on for their livelihoods. Of course they’d care about the harvest.”

It made sense when she put it that way. Not only had the fields been harvested in advance of the camps being set up, but the camps themselves made it look like they went to great pains to minimise damage to the land. The nearby villages were given a respectful amount of distance and the copses dotting the landscape were left untouched.

“Miss Baraja.”

A familiar voice came from one of the lanes between the tents. Neia smiled as she saw who was coming out to greet them.

“Lord Lugo,” she nodded.

Saye dipped into a respectful curtsey. Neia rushed to do the same. They weren’t out in the middle of nowhere anymore, so it probably wasn’t proper to be so informal. She blushed as Lord Lugo chuckled in amusement.

“I’m glad that our messengers were able to find you, Miss Baraja,” he said. “Your staff can…hm, I don’t see any of your household attendants…”

“They stayed behind to help organise things,” Neia said. “I didn’t know people were bringing troops, either. Will that be a problem? I’ll see if I can call a few over if you need them.”

“That shouldn’t be necessary,” Lord Lugo replied. “These armies came from the south to face the mysterious threat in the north. Your people are already positioned to do so, so it would be foolish to redeploy them.”

“I see. Does everyone know about what happened?”

“They do,” Lord Lugo nodded. “Pieces of the fleet have washed up all along the northern coast. Everyone is preparing for war with this unknown threat, and what you see around Hoburns is but a part of the overall mobilisation. Similar sights may be found from Rimun to Kalinsha.”

That was heartening to hear. At first, Neia thought that her people would take the brunt of the assault if whatever destroyed the fleet came ashore.

“I don’t think they’ll be very effective at countering this ‘unknown threat’,” Saye said. “Prince Felipe’s fleet was over a hundred galleons, right? It sounds like any men you send out to fight will just get sunk like they did.”

“We realise that much, of course,” Lord Lugo replied. “These forces are intended to be used in the defence of our lands along the coast.”

“So they’ve given up on the sea?” Neia asked.

“It’s more as Miss Saye here says,” Lord Lugo answered. “Challenging anything that can destroy the trade fleet in the water is a suicidal prospect. Speaking of which, have any of your vessels been attacked in recent days?”

“Not at all,” Neia replied. “We’ve been conducting search and rescue operations ever since the wreckage first appeared. Not that we’ve found anything aside from pieces of the fleet and its ruined cargo.”

Lord Lugo shook his head sadly.

“It must be harrowing work,” he said. “At least we haven’t seen additional aggression from…whatever it is. Anyway, I was going to have your attendants shown to the accommodations we’ve prepared for you and your party. I’ll call up some–”

“Ah, about that,” Neia said. “Saye said she might have a place in the city to stay in.”

“Truly?” Lord Lugo raised an eyebrow, “That’s quite fortunate. No slight intended to House Restelo, but camping out in the field is hardly the glamorous visit to the capital that one might envision.”

Neia froze at the mention of their would-be host.

“House Restelo, you say…?”

“Yes, that’s right. Is something the matter, Miss Baraja?”

She silently sent her gaze past Lord Lugo, scanning the camps set up along the highway.

“…House Restelo is the royalist house that Mister Lousa had his dealings with,” Neia said.

They didn’t have any conclusive evidence about whether House Restelo was responsible for the death of Iago Lousa, but they rationally had the strongest motives to act against him. Saye speculated that the forces sent to his land were simply allies sent by proxy to avoid a direct line from being drawn to the true mastermind behind his death.

“I see,” Lord Lugo said. “Then I suppose it’s for the best that you have a place to stay in the city. Out of curiosity, is the establishment you’re patronising suitable for entertaining guests? Two-thirds of our meetings are being held in tents at the moment.”

Neia sent a questioning look at Saye.

“It is, from a certain point of view,” Saye told them. “I didn’t lease anything like a manor, though. It’s just a room.”

“Ah. I understand. Apologies for my pretension. Before you go, I believe Lord Vigo would like to discuss several matters with you.”

“The Count? I don’t mind but…erm, Duke Debonei isn’t here, is he?”

Her question was voiced in hushed tones. Lord Lugo smiled at her apprehension.

“I would have mentioned the Duke instead if he were present,” he said, “but I understand your sentiment. Duke Debonei is quite fearsome when roused to anger.”

“…does that mean he’s still angry at me?”

“Anger profits us little in our current situation. I assure you that you won’t need to duck under flying wine glasses.”

Neia’s eyes grew wide at the image his words painted in her mind.

“…are you sure about that?” She asked.

In response, Lord Lugo offered her his arm. Neia hesitantly allowed herself to be guided deep into the conservative camp. It was far more orderly than the Holy Kingdom Liberation Army camp that once stood in its place, and every single retainer carried themselves according to some invisible standard that was nearly tangible just from the atmosphere they created.

Nearly a kilometre from the highway, they arrived at the camp’s command centre. Count Vigo was under a massive pavilion discussing something with several other Nobles. They fell silent and rose from their seats at Lord Vigo’s cue.

“Miss Baraja,” he nodded in acknowledgement. “Welcome to Hoburns. You’ve had quite the adventure since we last spoke.”

“Injustice should never be tolerated, Count Vigo,” Neia released Lord Lugo’s arm.

“Of course,” Lord Vigo said. “Given the mountain of records that Lord Lugo has provided us, it shouldn’t be a problem framing your actions in those terms. That’s something that can wait, however. The Holy Kingdom is focused on the destruction of the trade fleet. Any new information you have would be greatly appreciated.”

“Lord Lugo here asked me if we’ve come under attack since we last spoke, which should have been…”

“Just over a week ago,” Lord Lugo said.

“Right. I left Lloyds for Hoburns three days ago, but, between Lord Lugo’s departure and mine, our ships haven’t come under attack. They’ve been sailing around searching for survivors nonstop.”

Count Vigo nodded.

“That’s a small mercy, at least,” he said. “If this threat from the sea immediately moved against the coast after destroying the fleet, we’d be three weeks late with our response.”

Neia reached into the satchel slung over her shoulder, pulling out a thin binder with a few sheets of paper in it.

“Here’s the list of the vessels we’ve identified from the flotsam, my lord,” she placed the binder on the table between them. “Unfortunately, we couldn’t find any personal items to return to the families of the lost.”

“I’m not surprised,” Lord Vigo stared down at the binder, pursed his lips, and sighed. “Anyone willing to destroy the fleet would have no qualms about looting all of its valuables.”

“Have you figured out what it is?” Neia asked.

“I was hoping you’d have some clue,” Lord Vigo said. “Search parties based in Rimun have only found wreckage and waterlogged cargo in the flotsam. The royalists claim that they don’t have the ships for an investigation, and they’ve pinned the blame for their missing galleons on the same mysterious nemesis that destroyed the trade fleet.”

Awkward…

The Corps had taken thousands of southern hostages and they were thinking of ransoming them back for additional funding once they were in a position to do so. Now, people thought a sea monster or something had eaten them. At least it wasn’t an issue they had to immediately address.

“Miss Baraja,” Lord Lugo asked, “Have your search parties noticed the same anomalies that we have?”

“What anomalies?”

“We’ve commissioned shipwrights to analyse the wreckage,” Lord Vigo said. “No mere storm could have destroyed the fleet so thoroughly, so that notion was immediately dismissed. After a few days, the shipwrights discovered certain patterns of damage that weren’t the result of hulls being crushed and torn apart by the waves.”

Neia tried to recall if any of her people had mentioned something similar. For the most part, the debris was being salvaged and repurposed. The only thing that they preserved were fragments that could be identified as being from one vessel or another so they could report the loss.

“What kind of damage was it, my lord?” Neia asked.

“Clean damage,” Lord Vigo answered. “Cuts. Punctures. Someone purposely sunk the fleet by inflicting damage to the ships’ hulls.”

A glum look filled Neia’s face. That was exactly why the Holy Kingdom couldn’t fight their aquatic neighbours. They could sail a galleon filled with their most powerful champions and a single Merfolk hunter could open a hole in the bottom of their ship. A tribe of aquatic demihumans could sink a fleet with little effort and no losses. Land-dwelling races who wished to rely on the bounty of the sea and the prosperity of waterborne trade did so by the grace of the aquatic peoples that dwelt in the world’s oceans, lakes, and rivers.

“Has anyone claimed responsibility for the attack?”

“Not as far as we know,” Lord Vigo said. “The royalists have undoubtedly made the same findings, however. Everyone rightly assumes that we have an unknown enemy lurking beyond our northern coast.”

“What about our neighbours? Has anyone asked them?”

“Ran Tsu An Rin has gathered a delegation to speak with the coastal tribes and kingdoms. That will be a very long process, however. We can’t expect him to return with his findings anytime soon.”

Neia had met the ‘Green’ of Roble’s Nine Colours on two separate occasions. The first was on a beach at the Summer Palace during the Wind of Rimun, where her father had introduced Neia and her mother to him. The other time was during the victory celebrations after the war.

Ran Tsu An Rin had spent most of the war collaborating with Enrique Bellse of the Royal Marines and the Holy Kingdom’s southern armies, which were commanded by Marquis Bodipo. Together, they successfully managed to defend the isthmus connecting the northern and southern halves of Roble and eventually defeated Jaldabaoth’s southern offensive. After that, they joined forces with the north to form the Holy Kingdom Liberation Army.

“What about the Sea Dragons?” Neia asked, “They wouldn’t tolerate an attack like this in their territorial waters.”

“Ran Tsu An Rin notified us that they haven’t been seen for some time now.”

Her mouth fell open, aghast. Not only were Sea Dragons extraordinarily powerful, but they were wise and generally benevolent beings. It was unthinkable for anyone who lived in or drew their livelihood from their domains to attack them.

“I see,” Neia said. “In that case, I don’t think I have anything further to contribute for now. We couldn’t find a single survivor cast adrift.”

“Just the fact that we haven’t suffered any further attacks is enough to give us some peace of mind, Miss Baraja. Thank you for sharing what you know.”

“It’s the least I could do,” Neia nodded. “By the way, when will the Duke be arriving?”

“Hoh…” A gleam appeared in the Count’s eye, “So you’re looking forward to that tongue lashing.”

“I-I’m not!” Neia shrunk back, “I…well, your entire strategy revolved around supporting Prince Felipe’s bid for the throne, right? What will you do now?”

Lord Vigo exchanged a long look with his fellow conservatives.

“That would depend on how things develop, Miss Baraja,” he said. “The situation as a whole has changed drastically, even without this unknown threat. Half of the Crown’s revenues come from the trade fleet and I’m fairly certain that the royalists were intent on using all of that gold they sucked out of the cities to buy them out. As a whole, the Holy Kingdom is in dire economic straits and the royalists have ultimately inflicted suffering upon the people to no good end. I do not doubt that whatever ‘miracle’ they were trying to fool the people with lies stillborn with all of their other aspirations.”

Miracle? And what was that about buying out the trade fleet? The Count made it sound like it was a self-evident thing and the Nobles around him showed no surprise at the statement. Even a commoner like her understood that it wasn’t a good thing to be seen as ignorant in the politics of the capital, however, so she decided to press on.

“But you must have some idea of your direction from this point onward,” Neia said.

“As I said, Miss Baraja, it depends on how the situation develops. Currently, it’s so foggy that I can’t in good conscience promise that we’ll embark on any particular course. Once the winds of the capital start blowing, we’ll have a clearer idea of our heading.”

“And how long will that take, my lord?”

“Not long. The Royal Court should make a statement within a few days. Things will happen quickly after that.”

“What if we come under attack from whatever destroyed Prince Felipe’s fleet?”

“Then everyone will be forced to move and things like court politics will fall by the wayside.”

Neia supposed it couldn’t be helped. At least it would give her time to digest what was going on in the capital. She would have to learn the important stuff quickly if she wanted to find the best way forward for her people.

After exchanging some pleasantries with the assembled Nobles, Neia left the camp with Saye at her side. When they went to board their carriage for their trip to the city, however, the driver informed them that Hoburns was so crowded that all non-essential vehicles had been barred from entering. It was only a few kilometres to Rimun Gate, so they shouldered their baggage and went on foot.

“What do you think of what Lord Vigo said?” Neia asked as they walked along.

“What do you mean?”

“I didn’t like that vagueness when I asked him about what they’re going to do now.”

“Oh,” the Bard replied. “That. It should be expected, right?”

“How so?”

“They’re Nobles,” Saye told her. “Maybe it’s just force of habit with the way the Holy Kingdom is now, but Nobles usually always wait for the King to act first when it comes to major moves.”

“Why?”

Saye remained silent while they passed the entrance to another camp. It belonged to a group of minor houses, so it seemed that they had set up in order of arrival rather than precedence.

“Because anything they say before the Royal Court makes a related statement can be cancelled out by that statement,” Saye said once they had passed the sentries. “Say you’re a Noble who adopted a new farming technique that’s highly successful. You announce to all of your tenants that you plan on taking the fief’s increased revenues to increase military spending by ten per cent, pave all the main roads and fix up a few bridges over the winter. Now everyone’s happy because there’s increased security and moving things around has become easier.”

“I don’t see a problem with that,” Neia said.

“The problem comes after. That same winter, your liege sees the improved revenues and decides that he wants to make some improvements too. So he raises a special tax for it. Suddenly, all that stuff you promised to your people can’t happen because the new tax took the money away.”

“Ugh!” Neia cried, “That’s terrible! I’m going to get a stomach ache just thinking about facing all those people I promised stuff to.”

“Yeah, well, Nobles are people too. Worse than that, everything they say tends to be bound to one expectation or the other. Just suggesting things can result in angry people who expect something out of it, and you’re potentially an angry person with an army.”

“I can’t see our Nobles accepting something like your example, though,” Neia said.

“That’s why I figured it was just force of habit,” Saye replied. “And the Holy King could still push annoying stuff through with royalist support. The way kingdoms are set up, there’s almost always someone above you who can negate whatever you’re trying to do, so it’s better to just wait for the people on top to make their moves first. Everyone operates within the constraints imposed upon them.”

I guess that’s part of the trap we’re stuck in.

Even though twilight was already fading, they still had to line up to get into Rimun Gate. Neia did her best not to glare at the House Restelo retainers – or look at them at all – out of fear that she might get herself barred from the city. Finally making it into the city didn’t improve the crowded conditions.

“This is the western quarter,” Neia complained, “why is it so busy?!”

The western quarter was one of the industrial quarters, so there shouldn’t have been anything interesting for visitors to the area. Neia did her best to follow Saye, who had a much easier time slipping through the press of men than she did. She was so focused on keeping up with the Bard that she didn’t realise they had entered the Water Gardens until they were bathed in its lurid lighting.

“W-Wait a minute,” Neia said. “Wait!”

Her voice drew the gazes of dozens of men, so she quieted down and did her best not to attract further notice. Saye eventually stopped inside a suspicious-looking alley. Neia turned to look everywhere worriedly as the Bard spoke with an unseen individual on the other side of a dimly lit door.

“This is the place you leased a room from?” Neia asked once the Bard turned back around.

“Yeah.”

“But it’s in the Water Gardens…”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“What’s wrong with it? It’s–”

Neia shut her mouth and took a step back as the door opened. To her great horror, the Devil that had approached her before emerged from the onimous portal.

“Hey, Orlando,” Saye said.

“Why, if it isn’t Saye!” The man smiled, “I was wondering where you disappeared to.”

“Did you get the liquor I found you?”

“Indeed we did,” Sir Orlando nodded. “We managed to secure several supply contracts with the people you sent over. You’re a real lifesaver.”

“Great,” Saye smiled. “We just came in from a long trip, so could I get the keys to my room? Oh, and do you mind if my friend stays with me?”

“Not at all,” Sir Orlando turned his criminally handsome face toward Neia. “You are most welcome here–hm? Isn’t that one of our masks?”

One of their masks?

A whole three seconds passed before Neia spun around and looked up. There, hung the sign of The Queen of Thorns, with its image of Queen Calca in a tight leather outfit and a domino mask. Neia’s hand came up to snatch the mask off of her face and cast it to the ground.

“AHH!!!!” She stomped on the thing repeatedly with her boot, “AHHHHHHH!!!”

“That’s it!” Sir Orlando smiled broadly, “The sheer disdain; that expression of absolute disgust! I knew I wasn’t wrong! I take it that you’ve reconsidered my offer, miss? We’re busier than ever these days.”

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