Valkyrie's Shadow

Chapter 11

A scribed message with the seal of the Adventurer Guild lay upon Ludmila's desk when she returned to the manor. She swept the parchment up in her left hand as she walked by, idly unsealing it as she made her way to the back. Her lips turned down into a frown as she reviewed the content while Wiluvien removed her scarf and worked to fix her hair.

“They withdrew,” she murmured.

“Who withdrew?” Ilyshn’ish’s voice sounded in her ear.

Ludmila froze, then glanced over her shoulder, finding Ilyshn’ish peeking down at the document. The Frost Dragon had been undetectable to her senses, even when she was standing less than a metre away.

“Is there a reason why you are concealing your presence?” Ludmila asked.

“I’m following a person I just met last night into a strange, dark place,” Ilyshn’ish answered. “Is this not reason enough?”

As far as Ludmila knew, Dragons could see in complete darkness just as well as she. In terms of the broader context, however, Ilyshn’ish was probably correct…aside from the fact that Ludmila was not a ‘stranger’, but her new liege. She wondered when any semblance of trust would begin to develop.

“Acting in such a manner may be construed as distrust in your host,” Ludmila told her. “People may also accuse you of suspicious behaviour.”

“House Zahradnik is full of Rangers, so I understand where you are coming from. I have to purposely avoid concealing myself in certain situations as well. Some people will also scare easily if you abruptly reveal yourself, despite your intentions.”

“That’s their problem, not mine. Why should I change my behaviour for the sake of others?”

“Learning all of the reasons why is a part of why you've been sent here,” Ludmila said, “understanding and employing the appropriate behaviour for every circumstance should not be viewed as a burden or nuisance – forms of etiquette ensure that communication occurs smoothly between parties, and are tools to be employed to your advantage.”

Ilyshn’ish offered nothing in response, and Ludmila returned to reading the message from the Adventurer Guild. The expedition to Feoh Raizo had withdrawn, having encountered Frost Giants at an unexpected location roughly forty kilometres south of the Dwarven mining outpost. The outcome was not as bad as she had predicted: the Adventurers only suffered six fatalities. They were now licking their wounds in E-Rantel and retraining while the leadership considered their next move.

“What does it say?” Ilyshn’ish asked.

“Lady Shalltear mentioned that you had registered with the Adventurer Guild?”

“Yes, that’s right…I’m still not qualified to participate in the expeditions, though.”

So she could follow rules set down by those other than His Majesty and Lady Shalltear. Was it because of Lord Mare and Lady Aura? Raw power appeared to be something that could compel her to conduct herself properly.

“The expedition in progress has withdrawn to recuperate in E-Rantel,” Ludmila told her.

“Is that so?” Ilyshn’ish said, “They were conducting diplomacy with some Frost Giants when I saw them last. How strange that they’ve returned so soon.”

“You saw them?”

“Oh yes: they were in the middle of something when I was delivering supplies. I returned to the city shortly after that.”

Ludmila wondered what had gone wrong. Did they offend the Frost Giants somehow? She couldn’t imagine the Adventurers going out of their way to pick a fight – they should have been well aware of the Frost Giants’ strength. Taking a seat at the table, she bid Ilyshn’ish join her. Her vassal carefully walked around the table once before sitting down.

“How much do you know about Frost Giants?” Ludmila asked, “Did those rumours you spread hold any truth to them?”

“The truth?” Ilyshn’ish tilted her head, “The soul cannot lie.”

“I have heard that from someone before…” Ludmila said, “but what does that have to do with the rumour that you spread? It was the result of a bardic performance, was it not?”

To be sure, Ludmila had heard minstrels wax poetic, claiming that their art was drawn from the soul or something similar to enamour others to them. Then they would launch themselves into some ridiculous fabrication that no one could seriously believe.

“It would please me if you do not equate a Dragon Bard with mortal Bards,” Ilyshn’ish snorted, twirling a strand of frost-white hair around a finger, “Mortal Bards are but a pale imitation.”

“How so?”

The finger stopped. Ilyshn’ish looked at her as if she had come across something bizarre and incomprehensible.

“What part of Dragon do you not understand?”

“You are actually the first Dragon I have ever spoken to.”

Ilyshn’ish’s long look continued until she finally closed her eyes and released a sigh.

“Our kind is unique in its relationship to the world,” Ilyshn’ish told her. “I often hear mortal races frame us in simplistic terms, so I suppose what we are might simply be beyond your capability to understand. Our place in this world cannot be won by physical prowess or magical might. Our connection to this world is not something that other races can achieve through any effort. The greatest of our kind are the Keepers of this world – even if someone somehow manages to slay one, they cannot gain what the world has lost.”

“…I have never heard anything like that before.”

“Why would you?” Ilyshn’ish said, “You, who can only think about whether we ate your stupid cow last night, what rank of Adventurer it would take to fight us, or what you might gain from our deaths. The stewards of your race’s lore would almost certainly dismiss it out of hand in their ignorance and conceit.”

The tone in which she spoke was laced with disdain, yet woven within her words was the sense that Ilyshn’ish was conveying a truth intrinsic to existence itself. It was reminiscent of the feeling that Ludmila had when the Krkonoše spoke to her, yet it had a unique aspect to it that she had never experienced before.

At first blush, it came off as arrogant and cryptic, but, now being exposed to two races that expressed themselves in somewhat similar terms, she thought that there might be something more to it. To them, what was, was: you either understood, or you did not.

“I would very much like to discuss this with you at length,” Ludmila said, “if it helps me understand you better. This is something that will have to wait, however. The Adventurer Guild wants me to participate in the next leg of the expedition.”

“Y-you’re an Adventurer?” Ilyshn’ish’s voice suddenly turned timid, and its mystical quality drifted away, “I thought you were a Noble…or was that a Ranger?”

“I find that I am many things these days,” Ludmila smirked. “More recently, people have been seeing me as one of the Undead.”

Ilyshn’ish sniffed at her suspiciously. Wiluvien, who was serving them tea, bestowed a frown of condemnation upon her.

“Are you?” Ilyshn’ish asked.

“I think I would realize if something like that happened,” Ludmila answered. “At any rate, with this upcoming expedition, I would like to learn more about Frost Giants, if you don’t mind.”

“They’re big, blue, and violent. Is there anything else you need to know?”

“I was thinking more along the lines of their culture,” Ludmila explained, “how their tribes work, and how they conduct battle.”

Ilyshn’ish made a face. Her true appearance also somehow made the same face.

“Why would you want to know this?” She asked, “They’re killing you, so just kill them back.”

“That is not the purpose of the expedition,” Ludmila answered. “We will fight if it comes to it, but the purpose of the new Adventurer Guild is not to subjugate those we come across, but to explore the world. Diplomacy is preferable to conquest. To begin with, do you know how the diplomatic efforts of the expedition failed yesterday?”

“They didn’t.”

“They didn’t?”

“They didn’t,” Ilyshn’ish said, “but I don’t think they would have been able to keep it up, now that I think about it. That’s probably why they withdrew.”

Her confusion over the matter apparently solved, Ilyshn’ish allowed herself a self-satisfied nod.

“Just to be clear,” Ludmila frowned, “what sort of ‘diplomacy’ was this?”

“The aggressive sort.”

Maybe it was something she should have expected from the start. For many Demihuman tribes, respect was only earned through feats of strength. Without respect, you were just food.

“Let me guess,” Ludmila sighed, “You have to keep fighting them until you make a name for yourself. Until then, you’re just a target.”

“Obviously.”

There was no way a regular expedition would be able to do that. Their primary objective was not the Frost Giants themselves, so fielding the sixth team with suitably powerful individuals like Momon and Nabe was probably not on the table. Perhaps a new expedition meant to specifically deal with them would be sent out in the future.

“Out of curiosity,” Ludmila said. “Would you be capable of doing this? If you were qualified for the expedition, of course.”

“They already have a name for me,” Ilyshn’ish said, “but doing what you’re probably asking is far beyond my reach. There are some Frost Giants out there that are at least as strong as my mother, never mind me.”

“What do they call you?”

“It’s extraordinarily presumptuous, so I’d rather not say.”

Ludmila couldn’t imagine what sort of name could be presumptuous to the extent that even a Dragon thought it so. Her answer sealed off the one possibility she could think of for the Adventurer expedition to deal with the Frost Giants. As with the initial expectations that came with this expedition, they could only focus on the survey and pray that Frost Giants did not notice and come after them.

“I would still like to learn as much as possible,” Ludmila said. “They are beyond my experience, so any accurate information will help me figure out ways for the expedition to survive them.”

“If your goal is to survive,” Ilyshn’ish replied, “then just avoid them entirely. Their veteran hunters are superior to your Rangers, so you have little chance to elude them once they take notice of you. A single one of their Champions is enough to destroy your entire expedition a dozen times over if it is similar to what was sent yesterday.”

“How about their culture and religion?” Ludmila asked, “What do you know about those?”

“They have gods, of a sort,” Ilyshn’ish answered. “I am not sure whether they consider them members of their own race or something else. Foremost amongst them is Thrym: whom they also consider their king.”

“They have a god that lives amongst them?” Ludmila’s eyes narrowed.

“Not that I know of. He is a myth from ages past, when many mighty beings existed in the world. Like us Frost Dragons, Frost Giants came to the Azerlisia Mountains a long time ago. Whether this Thrym exists in some other place is unknown, but Frost Giants only live for about as long as Dwarves do.”

Ludmila wondered if the Frost Giant religion had any similarities to her own. The Six Great Gods had come to live amongst humanity six centuries ago, protecting them during a time when Humans were on the brink of being overwhelmed by their nonhuman neighbours. They mingled with humanity, and their blood ran through the veins of many to this day. Surshana, the god of death, was not a Human, but, because of this, he was the one who had stayed with humanity the longest.

If not for the Eight Greed Kings, who had visited calamity upon the world a century after the Six Great Gods’ advent, Surshana would still be with them today. Many of the faithful believed that their gods would someday descend to live with them once more.

“Do they have any other gods?” Ludmila asked, “What about something like an afterlife?”

“The other gods are much like the ones you might find elsewhere,” Ilyshn’ish yawned. “They are all related to the Frost Giants somehow, and these gods reign over various aspects of their lives. As for the afterlife…they believe that the souls of the worthy will be chosen to join their most honoured ancestors in the halls of their afterlife. Or was it the fields? The latter doesn’t make much sense to me, considering where they live.”

“Since they have such a warlike culture, I am guessing that 'worthy’ has something to do with their feats of strength in life.”

“Oh, yes, their entire society revolves around it. Feats of strength and death in glorious combat against other worthy foes and all that.”

“How have they not fought their way into glorious extinction if this is the case?”

“Because they’re strong?” Ilyshn’ish gave her her ‘obviously’ look again, “So strong that only Dragons and other Giants may be considered proper rivals for them as a species. Internally, they adhere to traditions that are reinforced by the very strength that they aspire to. There is an order to everything, dictated by strength: who may challenge who; what targets are worth raiding and who they are appropriate for; who may speak and represent their kin in council.”

“I am beginning to understand why you called it ‘diplomacy’.”

“It is not difficult to grasp,” Ilyshn’ish snorted. “If anything, this should be the norm for the world, no?”

“For primitive tribal societies, perhaps,” Ludmila said. “True civilizations have risen above such base thinking.”

“Hmph. These ‘primitive tribal societies’ that you look down upon have stood the test of time – unlike your ‘civilization’. How long have the ‘Kingdom’ and the ‘Empire’ been around? Less than two centuries, I think. Eventually, something strong will come and take everything if you do not possess the strength to match…and that’s exactly what happened, if I’m not mistaken.”

It was difficult to refute her words. The Sorcerer King won his claim to the Duchy of E-Rantel through overwhelming force. The Empire established itself through rebellion against Re-Estize. Re-Estize was built on the rubble of the nations destroyed by the Demon Gods. With enough strength, one could kill even gods.

“The faith of The Six promotes the cultivation of humanity’s strength,” Ludmila turned to the only example that she knew that stood apart from the rest, “and the Slane Theocracy has stood for many centuries. They did not need a warlike culture to achieve this…speaking of which, how does the priesthood fit into Frost Giant society?”

“The priesthood? Hmm…it doesn’t exist in the same way as the clergy do in E-Rantel. Their Shamans function as their priesthood.”

“I would think that the priesthood would be central to such a violently spiritual people.”

“Violence is central to such a violently spiritual people,” Ilyshn’ish corrected her. “Their pursuit of a glorious afterlife is the closest thing to worship that they have.”

“So there is no way to approach the Frost Giants through their priests…”

“You’re still thinking about talking to them?” Ilyshn’ish rolled her eyes.

“If the only outcome of their traditional ‘diplomacy’ is being crushed,” Ludmila told her, “then I have no choice but to seek alternatives, should the situation call for it.”

Ilyshn’ish remained silent for a time, and Ludmila reread the details on the Adventurer Guild’s message.

"Depending on the circumstances,” Ilyshn’ish finally broke the silence, “you might be able to speak with one…”

“Have you done this before?” Ludmila asked.

“How do you think I know all of these frivolous little details?” Ilyshn’ish answered.

“Probably by killing them and going through their belongings.”

“Well, I did that too,” Ilyshn’ish admitted, “but one has to confirm what they come across. I am not your average, mortal Bard; spewing uninspired tales of dubious veracity.”

“I do not suppose you could bring me to meet this Frost Giant Shaman…”

“Of course not,” Ilyshn’ish replied, “why would I leave a perfectly healthy Frost Giant alive?”

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