Blood Ties (Last Life Book #3): A Progression Fantasy Series E-Book

Alexey Osadchuk

• Herausgeber: Magic Dome Books
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023

Beschreibung

Heinrich de Gramont’s petition to the king to release Max Renard from his duty to serve at Westerly Fort has been signed. Max’s debt to the crown has been paid. And now his “doting” uncle expects his wayward and petulant nephew to come to the capital at once so he can be wed to Viscountess Aurélie de Marbot. Max knows there’s no getting out of a trip to the capital this time. Also, beyond personal affairs, he has a lot of questions both for his father’s brother and a number of maternal relatives. And so, Max decides to make for Herouxville to see with his own eyes just how far blood ties can take him.

Leseprobe

Inhaltsverzeichnis

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Interlude 1

Chapter 6

Interlude 2

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9: Interlude 3

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Interlude 4

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Interlude 5

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Interlude 6

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Interlude 7

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

About the Author

Blood Ties

by Alexey Osadchuk

Last Life

Book#3

Magic Dome Books

Last Life

Book # 3: Blood Ties

Copyright © Alexey Osadchuk 2023

Cover Art © Valeria Osadchuk 2023

Designer: Vladimir Manyukhin

English translation copyright © Andrew Schmitt 2023

Published by Magic Dome Books, 2023

Podkovářská 933/3, Vysočany, 190 00

Praha 9 Czech Republic IC: 28203127

All Rights Reserved

This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Shop and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This book is entirely a work of fiction. Any correlation with real people or events is coincidental.

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Chapter 1

“WHAT DO YOU NEED all that for? What is the true reason?”

Lieutenant Vincent asked me that question five days after our first meeting. I had just finished my procedures with crimson and emerald energies, actively directing them from their bruts into the body of my patient.

Théodore Vincent hadn’t said much during his prior treatments. I regularly caught him looking at me, though. I didn’t blame him. Apparently, now he’d seen enough to work up the courage for a frank conversation. And to be honest, it was overdue. Despite his chumpish appearance and shirt, Théodore Vincent possessed a razor-sharp wit and uncompromising character. And that was just how Baron von Holtz described him.

“So, I assume you don’t believe I could sincerely want to help a suffering man?” I chuckled, stuffing both bruts into my pocket.

Watching my hand, the lieutenant smiled back at me from bed:

“I stopped believing in fairy tales when I was seven years old and my whole family died of plague. The plague battalion burned my house to the ground with my families’ bodies inside. After that, I got sent to live in a shelter where I got all that foolishness beaten out of me...”

“I see.”

“Oh yeah?” I heard unconcealed sarcasm in Vincent’s voice. “If I’m not mistaken, you grew up somewhere warm and cozy with a team of nannies and valets to look after you, right?”

“Weren’t we just talking about casting off illusions?” I asked, sitting in a chair opposite Vincent’s bed and crossing my legs. “Even legitimized bastards forever remain outcasts. Now picture a bastard whose father conspired against the crown and was executed for his crimes. How could someone like that have any illusions? So I understand you perfectly well even though the two of us grew up with different levels of wealth. And as for your question... What do you think?”

“To be honest, I’m lost in guesses...” Vincent replied. “But still, I have some ideas.”

“Curious... I’m all ears.”

“You’re trying to get the new commander of Westerly Fort on your side by helping me.”

“Well? Is it working?”

“Jean Tassen is a man of honor,” Vincent responded harshly. “But he is no fool. And as an aside, neither am I. We just like playing by the rules. It keeps things simple.”

“Agreed,” I nodded. “It’s always simpler to live without illusions. But true friendship and loyalty are no mere illusions. They are real. They are above feelings of gratitude.”

“Are you saying you are trying to gain loyal friends by helping me?” Vincent smiled condescendingly.

“Hey, why not?” I shrugged. “If I’m not mistaken, that is the path to true, solid friendship.”

“Or maybe it’s all because you want to wet your beak on the smuggling ring through Tassen and me.” Vincent came, staring me straight in the eyes.

“You think I stand a chance?” I asked calmly, not looking away.

“Why not?” Vincent snorted back sardonically. “You managed to get rid of Louis de Rohan, as well as his flunkies Brossard and Buquet. Now the path is clear, particularly now that Tassen is deeply indebted to you for mending my health. He won’t put up any roadblocks.”

“What about you?” I asked. “Will you be grateful? Or put-up roadblocks? Because I was not joking. You will be back on your feet. And you see that yourself already. You must have sensed the changes in your body over the last five days.”

“Yes,” Vincent rasped back with a slightly puzzled look. “I can feel it...” And then, getting himself together, he added in a firm voice: “And yes, I am capable of showing gratitude. You healed me, took my wife and daughter into your home, helped Jean get promoted... I won’t make any trouble. Furthermore, I will do whatever you ask of me. I give you my word. But there is one but…”

“I’m listening...”

“If I ever hear that you’re threatening my friends or family, I will kill you.”

Vincent’s voice was unwavering. The man looking back at me was a vicious predator. Despite his mortal wound, he was ready to bite through my neck at a moment’s notice.

“I hear you, lieutenant,” I nodded.

“But you neglected to answer the biggest question,” Vincent reminded me.

“You mean the money and smuggling operation?” I asked. “I will not lie. I am interested in that business, but I concluded that there’s nothing for me to skim from your operation.”

“Is that right?” Vincent chuckled.

“Oh, come on,” I waved a hand. “Everyone knows perfectly well that de Rohan and his henchmen’s exile is a temporary state of affairs. Very soon, the men who sent him out here will try to take everything back under their control. Either they’ll send a new ‘de Rohan,’ or more likely try to make an arrangement with the new commander. There’s no sense going to war with them. You’ve already seen how that turns out. And considering the fact that I already have a basic idea of exactly who is at the top of this whole pyramid, I’d simply be swallowed up, not merely pushed out. Because Maître Jacob still sits in the fortress as a representative of the Amber Guild. He had to shell out a lot of dough to be granted the royal privilege to be stationed here on the frontier to purchase the claws, fangs, and various roots from the Shadow sold by wildlings after the ebbs.”

I started counting on my fingers.

“So... Louis de Rohan’s backers, the Amber Guild, unscrupulous secret chancery agents, the mayor and his backers... And that’s only surface level information... Sounds like a lot of bloodsuckers to feed already, no?”

“And despite all that, you intend to obtain a manor here, reinforce your position among the officers of Westerly Fort and meet the mayor in the next few days,” Vincent noted with a wry chuckle. “After all, you were released from service in Westerly Fort and very soon will be heading to the capital. All of that seems to conflict with what you just said about not wanting to wet your beak on the smuggling operation, don’t you think?”

“You’re missing one detail,” I shook my head.

“What might that be?” Vincent asked in surprise.

“The biggest one,” I responded, taking a big violet brut out of my pocket. When Vincent saw it, he gave a loud gulp. “As I mentioned, I am interested in the business, but I do not have the slightest desire, as you put it, to ‘wet my beak’ on anyone else’s cash flow. First of all, it sounds too messy. And second, the money, hm... isn’t all that good... And no wonder — with so many mouths to feed.”

“I don’t exactly get your meaning...” Vincent started.

But I interrupted:

“It’s too early for that, lieutenant. Everything in its time.”

Standing from my seat, I stashed the brut back in my pocket and straightened my coat.

“By the way,” I stood outside the door. “Get ready. Tomorrow, you’ll be coming to my manor. The treatment will last more than a month. I cannot waste time traveling to your home every single day. Beyond that, you’ll be able to walk all on your own very soon, which is sure to attract lots of unwanted attention. To avoid that, my people will be publicly transporting you out of town tomorrow morning for supposed treatment in a nearby big city at a healer’s funded by Westerly Fort officers. Then, in the evening, you will return back to Toulon incognito. You will stay in my manor until your complete recovery together with your wife and daughter.”

After I said that, followed by Vincent’s thoughtful gaze, I went out the door.

* * *

“Monsieur,” Bertrand appeared in the doorway of my office. “An Éric Judor is here to see you. Shall I send him in?”

I looked away from reading yet another report from Tomcat, my infobot in Sardent. In it, he informed me that prices on sundries, fabric, iron, fur, and weapons in the independent Duchy of Mâcon had suddenly shot up and were continuing to grow. Hm… And no wonder. To some war could be a great opportunity. Some went to their deaths while others lined their pockets.

Beyond that, Tomcat told me that prices at the slave market had risen significantly, particularly for fit men. Earlier, he informed me that teams of recruiters had started showing up in massive numbers in the county and beyond hunting for fit young men to fill the ranks of the warring armies.

The Count de Mâcon, after a large number of complaints, even tried to combat the overreach, but the higher prices on the “live wares” climbed, the more actively the headhunters plied their trade.

Because that was only the beginning. The armies of Vestonia and Atalia had yet to meet in a single large battle. So far, it had been relegated to small skirmishes for territory belonging to what I was calling “buffer counties and duchies,” those between the mega states. To me, it seemed that, after the war, many of these microstates would lose their independence.

Wiping my face with my hand then stretching out, I took all important documents off the table and gave an order to Bertrand:

“Send him in.”

A few moments later, a short, slouching man walked into my office. He appeared to be fifty or even older. His pale, smallpox scarred face was stamped with a polite but somewhat crafty smile. His clever, cloudy blue eyes glimmered with sincere curiosity.

Éric Judor, a local money lender, had visited my manor several days before. There was something he wanted to talk about. But I was not home, so he left his card and a request to invite him over at my earliest convenience.

As an aside, the manor was now officially my property. Monsieur Mollet’s “fever” abated, and he was all too eager to sell the building to me for eight hundred silver crowns.

I had to slightly rein in his appetites, and the price came down to five hundred fifty. Mollet was desperate to wrap up all his affairs with the inconvenient renter. So much in fact that he agreed to accept a promissory note redeemable in any bank where I kept deposits. I was not doing so great for cash at the time the deal was concluded, so it was an acceptable option.

After a brief greeting, I asked the money lender to take a seat.

“Okay,” I came, looking closely at the man. “There was something you wanted to discuss. All I ask... Is that you get straight to the point. I don’t have much time.”

Éric Judor shifted a bit in the seat, got comfortable and said with a smile:

“Of course, chevalier. Of course! I understand completely. I won’t take much of your time. I have come with a business proposition.”

“I’m all ears.”

“I wanted to offer to buy your promissory note.”

“My promissory note?” I asked in surprise.

“Precisely,” the money lender nodded and set a scroll on the table. “Please...”

I unrolled it and quickly looked over the document bearing my signature. Just to be safe, I also scanned it for magic ink. No problems. It was the very promissory note I had used to pay Monsieur Mollet his five hundred and fifty silver crowns for the purchase of my manor.

Hm... Monsieur Mollet must have decided to just sell it to the money lender. In theory, I didn’t blame him. The nearest branch of the Craonne bank, where my savings were kept, was located in Sardent. And he’d have to get there to get the money. Considering that the roads were less than calm at the moment, Mollet opted to sell the promissory note to a money lender in town. How much might he have sold it for?

“And what do you want for it?” I asked, handing back the scroll.

“Whatever do you mean?” Éric Judor asked in sincere surprise. “What it says on the note. Five hundred fifty silver crowns.”

I stood up slowly and walked over to the window. In the manor’s back yard, I saw Jacques and Théo Vincent sitting on a bench having a conversation.

Théo, as I promised, got on his feet a month ago and was now slowly starting to walk again, leaning on a heavy cane. I recalled the looks of astonishment from Vincent and his wife when he first got out of bed. On that day, I realized I now had two more people loyal to me in this world.

After they met, Jacques and the lieutenant quickly found a common tongue. As it turned out, many years ago, the pair had even taken part in the same battle against some Northlanders. Honestly though, Jacques was in the infantry while Vincent was part of the cavalry. Now, the pair sat and watched as the kids trained, throwing out clipped phrases. Needless to say, the training had gotten even more intense now that there was another veteran on the scene.

A smile instantly flickered on my lips, which I immediately hid behind a mask of indifference.

Turning, I sat back down at the table and said:

“I will give you three hundred silver crowns for it.”

After von Holtz sold our loot to Maître Jacob, I had gotten some cash. In the lower drawer of my desk, I now had four purses containing two hundred crowns each.

The fact we had come back with loot had leaked to the public in the end. And so, we had to sell it all to the official representative of the Amber Guild or risk being labeled smugglers.

I had to admit that when von Holtz told me my share from selling the shadow wolf claws and three nearly empty bruts I was amazed. And Maître Jacobs was most likely not paying us a fair price.

But even so, my people were pleased. Their share constituted just over two hundred crowns, which was a lot.

Hrm... I was afraid to even imagine how much my “collection” might fetch.

As an aside, Lieutenant von Holtz had just gone out on a campaign at the head of a group of fighters from the fort’s garrison loyal to Tassen along with von Brunon and Vidal. They decided to return to the lake to look for the dead shadow wolf we hid in a gully there. Or rather, whatever was left of it.

I figured they’d be back any day now. And if they managed to scare up any loot, I was also entitled to a share of that.

“But please, chevalier!” the money lender came indignantly. “The promissory note says how much its worth in black and white!”

“I do not dispute that,” I replied. “But it also clearly indicates a time and location for that payment to take place. You can only demand the full amount one year after the promissory note was issued, and only from a branch of the Craonne bank.”

And he knew all that perfectly well. I figured he was just testing the waters. He wanted to see what kind of man he was dealing with. I didn’t blame him...

Now, by the way, I could see why Mollet was so eager to agree to my conditions when signing the purchase contract. He was clearly not planning to wait a whole year, much less travel anywhere. He was expecting to sell the promissory note to Éric Judor or another money changer, even if the rate would be greatly reduced.

Judor said nothing, sizing me up with a thoughtful gaze. Then, in an utterly unimpressed tone, he came:

“Three hundred is not a lot.”

“Maybe so,” I shrugged.

“Three hundred is nearly half of the total value. I’d come down to five hundred.”

I tilted my head to one side.

“Three hundred fifty.”

The money changer shook his head.

“Not enough. Four hundred eighty.”

“The war,” I reminded him. “Has the roads a real mess. On top of that, there are roving bands of recruiters all around cities and their outskirts.”

“Sure, but who’d want to recruit me?” Judor chuckled. “And what for?”

“If they don’t push you into the army, they’ll rob you,” I shrugged. “All kinds of things are known to happen in these troubled times. Three hundred seventy.”

“Let’s round that up to four hundred,” Judor suggested. “And part as friends.”

Considering it briefly, I rubbed my chin, then nodded:

“Agreed. I’ll be expecting you tomorrow, same time, with an attorney.”

I didn’t know how much Judor had earned on the deal, but personally I was saving myself one hundred fifty crowns. And that meant the manor was costing me a total of four hundred silver crowns.

By the way... What if...?

Squeezing the hand of the self-satisfied Éric Judor, I held his hand in mine for a moment.

“Monsieur Judor, correct me if I’m wrong, but do you also happen to have other promissory notes?”

“Of course,” he replied, immediately perking up his ears. “Plenty of them. Anything in particular you’re interested in?”

“Yes,” I nodded. “I’d like promissory notes from the trading houses Gilbert, and Legrand and Sons, as well as any coming from the Counts de Gramont. Or... The Count de Marbot. But those are lower priority.”

When I saw the money changer give a broad, promising smile, I realized that soon I was going to need a very large amount of cash.

Chapter 2

ÉRIC JUDOR CAME BACK the next day at the scheduled time with an attorney. After we signed the agreement, I handed the money changer two fat sacks of crowns. He meanwhile handed me the promissory note, which I then destroyed with the attorney as witness.

After the lawyer left my office, Judor set several dozen more scrolls on my desk.

“Three thousand seven hundred fifty silver crowns — Gilbert trading house,” the money changer started listing off with a salacious smile. He clearly loved what he did. “Five thousand three hundred — Legrands. Six thousand two hundred — de Gramonts, and as for de Marbot — fifteen hundred. The ones with the nearest terms are nine months out. Almost all held by the Craonne bank. That makes a total of sixteen thousand seven hundred fifty silver crowns. What do you say, chevalier?”

Hrm... What could I say? That was crazy money. Which I did not have. And that was even considering the fact I was able to finagle a thirty percent discount.

“Welp, let’s first take a look...” I said and started scanning each note in detail.

It only took me five minutes to make sure all the signatures were in place. No one tried to modify or forge any of them. Beyond that, Judor provided me with purchase contracts notarized by an attorney for each.

After a scan, I started reading through them all carefully. Most of them were payable to bearer and had definite payout terms. But some of the de Gramont notes for two thousand crowns were pledged against some place called the Barony of Valff.

Also... The de Gramont debt obligations were signed in two different hands.

Pulling away from my reading, I called out softly:

“Bertrand!”

A minute later, the door opened, and my valet came into the office.

“Monsieur...” he bowed.

“Take a look at these papers,” I suggested. “And tell me what you see.”

Bertrand came closer to the table and started looking closely at the notes, sorting them into two piles.

“Monsieur,” he addressed me when he was done. “The first pile are notes pledged against the Barony of Valff and signed by your late father Ferdinand de Gramont. The rest were signed by your uncle Heinrich de Gramont.”

“Hm...” I stroked my chin, paying no attention to Éric Judor, who wasn’t saying a thing. “Curious... Remind me again, where is that barony located...?”

“The Barony of Valff is part of the lands of County Gramont, in the northeast of Vestonia, monsieur,” he replied slowly. “On the border of Astland.”

“I see,” I nodded. “Thank you, Bertrand. You may go.”

The old man bowed and left the office. The way he did it was so decorous and courteous it was as if he was valet to the king himself. Even Éric Judor found himself struck, watching Bertrand leave with respect.

“Okay,” I came, drawing the money changer’s attention. “I’ve seen all I care to. I am interested in all the notes except these.”

I pushed aside the stack of paper bearing Max’s father’s signature.

“For the rest, I could write you a de Craonne bank check for six thousand crowns.”

Judor shuddered and took the stack.

“Six thousand is plain robbery!” he exclaimed. “Particularly for notes from such esteemed Vestonian families! But that isn’t even the biggest part. Alas, chevalier, I do not work with checks...”

“Okay,” I said, getting up from the seat. “Then I ask you to forgive me for wasting your precious time. I do not keep such large amounts of cash.”

The money changer hurriedly hopped out of the chair and, as if afraid I was about to leave, started speaking softly while cautiously eyeing the door:

“I understand, chevalier... It is not safe to keep such large amounts in the home in times like this. They’re safer in a bank vault...” He again eyed the door and turned to a whisper. “What if there was another way to settle payment for the notes? Perhaps I could let them go for ten thousand. Believe me, chevalier, it’s a very good price.”

“What are you suggesting?” I also lowered my voice. “You won’t take a check... A loan? A promissory note?”

“No, no,” the money changer hesitated. “You’ll have to forgive me, Monsieur Renard, for my directness but you... How can I put it...? You put your life at risk too often. And beyond that... Please don’t take this too personally. You’re not creditworthy at present.”

He looked around the office.

“As far as I’m aware, this manor is your only property and, forgive me again, but I know exactly what it cost you. And now we’re talking about ten thousand crowns.”

“Then I repeat,” I came, slightly raising my voice. “What exactly do you want for payment?”

The money changer hesitated for a moment, then started selecting his words carefully:

“You see, Monsieur Renard. Everyone in Toulon knows that you and your friends returned with lots of loot from your recent outing, which you sold to Maître Jacob.”

“That’s right,” I nodded. “He is the only man in Westerly Fort we can legally sell such things to. I am a law-abiding subject of his majesty. As are my friends.”

“Yes, yes, of course...” Judor waved his hands. “And yet... You could after all have, ghm, well let’s say, set aside some of the loot for a rainy day... Of course, intending to sell it later and only to a legal representative of the king. Isn’t that so?”

Now that was interesting. When I found out Éric Judor wanted to meet me, I asked Théo Vincent for intel. The lieutenant assured me the money changer, just like every other member of his profession, was slippery as an eel but relatively harmless. He bought up and resold valuable papers and keepsakes. The pawn business, essentially. But otherwise, he was a common money changer with no links to smuggling. And here he was giving me clear hints that he was interested in magic artifacts. Very curious.

I had met people like him in my past life. They got very set in their ways. And if a man such as Éric Judor decided to take a risk, something must have happened. And thus his strange trepidation. He was clearly feeling out of his element. Hm... As if he was being forced... Actually, why not?

“Purely hypothetically?” I lowered my voice again.

“Of course!” Judor’s eyes lit up with delight.

“Well, purely hypothetically, then of course that could be so,” I responded. After that, the money changer took heart. “But we needed money for Lieutenant Vincent’s treatments. So we sold all our loot to Maître Jacob.”

Judor’s expression shifted after that. It transformed in an instant from one of joy to one of sadness.

“Too bad...” he muttered out in disappointment. “What a pity...”

I shrugged and threw up my hands. As if to say I couldn’t help.

Scraping the papers off the table, Judor placed a hand on the stack of notes with Max’s dad’s signature. As an aside, based on the dates and money, I was starting to suspect Ferdinand had spent a lot of dough in preparation for his rebellion. He must have put a lot on the line for the risky endeavor. Only the gods could say how many more such notes were circulating in the country.

“Chevalier Renard,” Judor turned to me suddenly. “May I ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

“Why are you not interested in your own father’s promissory notes?”

As if you don’t know. Slippery creep.

“My father is dead,” I replied. “And most likely, the barony pledged in those notes was either transferred to the crown or my uncle after his rebellion. If my father had simply died, I would have had a chance to redeem the money indicated in the note. But my father did not die a simple death. He was executed as a traitor.”

“But there’s also the courts,” Judor made a final attempt to pawn off the worthless papers on me.

Funny.

“I suspect I’d have to spend more money on bribes than I’d earn on that transaction. I am not the least bit interested in getting bogged down in bureaucracy.”

Based on the heavy sigh, Judor was in complete agreement with me on the matter. He was already near the door and reaching for the knob when I threw out some chum.

“I wouldn’t pay so much as ten crowns for those papers.”

Judor froze and turned.

“Not enough,” he immediately fired back. “A hundred would be an excellent price.”

I must have been on the right track. Those notes were as good as pulp.

“But please,” I smiled. “What good are those worthless papers to me for a whole hundred crowns? Twelve tops, and that only in memory of my dear father...”

In the end, after a brief negotiation, Judor and I agreed to twenty crowns and to meet back up in the next few days to sign the purchase contract in the presence of an attorney.

“What good are those papers to you, monsieur?” Bertrand asked me after the money changer had gone.

“Not sure yet,” I shrugged, pulling on my old, worn boots. I decided to change into street clothing and follow Judor. I needed confirmation of my theory about him.

“Twenty crowns is a ton of money!” Bertrand reminded me. “And most likely, your father’s notes will not be redeemable.”

“I know,” I nodded, attaching a dagger in a basic scabbard to my belt. “But the deal is done. So, we’ll just have to see!”

With an approving pat on Bertrand’s back, I left the office and a few minutes later caught up to the unsuspecting money changer in the merchant quarter. And approximately an hour later, my suspicions were confirmed. Cautiously peeking out around the corner of a fish stall, I watched Éric Judor standing not far from the baker’s stall having an animated discussion with Monsieur Gobert, the secret chancery agent.

I snorted. Hrm... They were not going to give up so easily. Which I really should have been expecting.

* * *

“I think the time has come to discuss our plans,” I came, looking at Théo Vincent sitting opposite me and his wife Clémentine. “We cannot delay any further. Soon, I will leave for the capital.”

Théo, his big hand gripping the top of his cane with such force his knuckles went white, cleared his throat a few times and glanced at his wife.

My healing work had ended a week prior, so Théo could already get by without the cane if he wanted. But he was in no hurry to part with it. The problem was that, inside the heavy stick, there was a very heavy steel rod. Carrying it around everywhere, Vincent occasionally swung it like a club or spun figure eights with it like a cavalry sword. And although the cane was constantly evading his grasp for the first few days, now Théo could swing it around like a little twig.

Clémentine gave a short nod to let me know she was listening. My housekeeper in the last month had very quickly gotten the manor in order. The short, dainty looking woman got all the people in my house under her thumb before anyone noticed. Other than me, and of course Bertrand. My valet was more than she could chew.

Honestly though, at first they had little spats. But then the hostility dwindled to zero. I watched the whole process from the sidelines and didn’t interfere. And good thing. The pair quickly came to an understanding about who was in charge. Clémentine recognized Bertrand’s ultimate authority and now I often caught them having calm discussions like old pals.

Two weeks ago, the Vincents and I had a serious conversation. Théo suddenly told me he’d refused to serve in the garrison at Westerly Fort. He let me know he’d had it up to his neck with serving the king and offered his services to me. To say I was caught off guard by his offer would be an understatement. Still, I should have seen it coming.

Tassen was also shocked by the news. He and Vincent even got into a fight and didn’t talk for a few days. But in the end, they made up. On that day, Vincent reeked of booze from a mile off. In the end, Baron von Brunon became Westerly Fort’s third lieutenant. Which was perfectly fine by me.

Vincent also was constantly accepting work from Jacques related to my outbuildings. Jacques meanwhile treated his “replacement” with understanding. He would be going to the capital with his master. Vincent meanwhile would be staying behind in Toulon.

“So then,” I continued. “As you are aware, this manor costs me a pretty penny every month.”

“Yes, monsieur,” Vincent replied, trading glances with his wife.

“Some of the expenses are covered by our side businesses,” my housekeeper clarified. “But not all.”

“True,” I nodded. “Those side businesses have proven very profitable. Which is why I’ve decided to expand them.”

“How so?” Clémentine asked.

“I am buying a farm on the outskirts of Toulon. Several if necessary. I am aware that it will mean investing at first. But with time I’m sure income will outstrip expenses.”

“Curious,” she drawled out thoughtfully and said: “Sundry prices have shot through the roof. If we approach this properly, it should work.”

“Gunnar and Kevin I’ll take with me,” I said, watching Clémentine’s eyes light up in satisfaction. My housekeeper clearly was a fan of the expansion plans. “You have Jérémie, Claude, and Luc at your disposal. If necessary, feel free to hire more assistants. We still have time. I can spend a couple days riding around the area to select a good spot. Beyond that, I can help choosing animals and poultry.”

“Yes, monsieur,” Clémentine nodded with a smile. “I’m sure you’ll choose the very best.”

“Don’t you doubt it,” I smiled back and turned to her husband.

“As for your, Théodore, I have a separate task. But first, I want to ask you a question.”

“You have my attention, monsieur,” he replied.

“Do you remember our first conversation? If I’m not mistaken, you were asking about the local smuggling operation and whether I intended to, as you put it, wet my beak?”

“Yes,” he nodded. “I recall.”

“What do you think now?”

He was not caught off guard. He stared me straight in the eyes and said:

“Everything I’ve seen and heard over the last month leads me to believe that fate has connected me and my family with a man who in the future will become one of the richest and most influential people in Mainland. I think all this fuss with the manor and farms is just a cover for the schemes you have for the future. I haven’t yet discovered exactly what they are, but you can count on me completely.”

“Good,” I nodded. “But I seem to remember you giving me a warning. I’d like to avoid misunderstandings between us. I have embarked on a risky endeavor. I’ll have to grow eyes on the back of my head.”

My tone didn’t bother Vincent or his wife.

“You saved my life,” Théo replied simply and without too much drama. The man looking back at me was a warrior ready to go to hell and back. “You gave me and my family hope again.”

“Over the last month, you’ve done more for us than all the masters my husband served in his life put together,” Clémentine came firmly. I saw determination in her eyes, and even a certain amount of ferocity. “And when tragedy visited our house, none of them so much as thought about us. Which leads to a logical question — if you’re giving this much help to people you don’t know at all, how much will you do for those you truly hold dear?”

“At least I’ll make them fabulously rich,” I responded calmly.

After saying that, I got up from my desk and walked over to the bookshelf while they looked on with bewildered attention. I got out both bags I’d taken from the Shadow and undid the drawstrings.

While watching the Vincents’ pale faces slowly stretch out, eyes pinned to the different colored bruts of various sizes, I again sat back in my chair.

Oddly, the first one to come to her senses was Clémentine. She turned to look at me and, her voice shuddering in trepidation and delight, asked:

“Monsieur... Where did you get them? But this... This...”

“These are my loot from the Shadow,” I responded calmly and, nodding at the bookshelf, added: “There are also pelts and various small items there like teeth and magical creature claws. And this is only the beginning.”

Then I looked at Théo. The former lieutenant of Westerly Fort, probably never having seen so many bruts before in his life, seemed afraid to move a muscle.

“Théo,” I called. The sound of my voice made Vincent shudder and look me in the eyes. “Now do you see what I have in mind?”

“Yes, monsieur,” he squeezed out with a parched throat.

“Are you with me?”

“To the bitter end,” he responded without a second thought.

“Clémentine?” I turned to his wife.

“To tell the truth, there have been times when my husband and I have had to risk our lives for food I would be hesitant to feed to pigs,” she said with a sad smirk, then in a firm voice repeated after her husband:

“I am with you to the bitter end, monsieur.”

Chapter 3

“THANK THE GODS, we’ve arrived!” Bertrand exclaimed with a sigh of relief.

We were standing on top of a hill staring wide eyed at the sprawling capital of Vestonia down below. Closest of all to us was the so-called Old Capital, or Old City. The New Capital, or New City was located in the distance on the left bank of the Legha river, the longest river in Vestonia, which rose in the south of the country and emptied into the Gray Sea in the Bay of Anteias.

I had learned from my history books that the division of the capital took place in the previous century. However, it was never truly divided. The current king’s great grandfather, whose rule began with a rebellion known popularly as the “Blood Prince Uprising,” was extremely paranoid.

After executing the rebels, including some of his own cousins and uncles, the king decreed the foundation of a new city on the opposite bank of the Legha, arguing that Vestonia was embarking upon a new path and thus the capital also had to be built anew.

Over eight or so years, the new city experienced fervent growth. For the most part, it was manors, villas, and palaces for the wealthy elite. But now, that was where my “doting” uncle was waiting for me.

However, I was not going straight to his place. For starters, I decided to set up in a hotel in the Old City and spend a few days getting my bearings.

I was distracted from contemplating the city by some noise on the road. On it was a long procession made up of dozens of riders in expensive, vibrant outfits accompanied by a richly appointed carriage with a ducal crest adorning its sides depicting a rectangular red and blue escutcheon supported by a pair of manticores rampant. The escutcheon was crowned with a six-toothed golden crown.

“Make way for His Grace the Duke de Gondy!” a broad-shouldered rider on a black mare called out in a booming voice. The long feathers on his dark blue brocade beret with gold and silver embroidery stuck out dashingly in various directions.

The riders and carriage raced down the road, not slowing their pace and paying absolutely no heed to the other travelers. People dove out of the way, hurrying to get their modest carts, wagons, and wheelbarrows out of the path of the ducal procession.

When the carriage caught up to our coach, which was parked on the side of the road, it came to a screeching halt. The riders, who were in front, furiously working their lashes and spewing obscenities, cleared a jam on the tract made of peasant and city-dweller carts.

At that very moment, the dark burgundy velvet curtain in the carriage’s window flitted back, and a sweet woman’s face peeked out. The look of scorn in her big hazel nearly black eyes landed on everything around. Her disinterested gaze slid over the peasants in their colorless clothing, their carts and wagons full of bags and animals in cages on their way to the stalls of the capital city market.

After that, she saw the hunters and lumberjacks coming home with their quarry, then finally landed on me. Looked with disgust at my cheap clothing and mare. We stared into each other’s eyes for a moment.

As a noble, I was allowed to stay in the saddle. Everyone else had to remove their hats, dismount, and give a deep bow. I also made a respectful bow just how Bertrand taught me.

The woman’s little mouth curled into a wry smile. She looked at me like a pauper. I couldn’t blame her. Compared to the riders alongside her carriage, decked out head to toe in capital-city fashions, I truly looked like a street urchin.

A moment later, the curtain slid back, and her face disappeared.

When the procession made it away from us, I glanced at Jacques. He just shrugged.

“De Gondy,” he came as if the name explained it all.

“As in the de Gondies?” I asked.

“Yes,” he nodded. “The Dukes of the South, rulers of Aquitaine. Most likely, she is the daughter or perhaps niece of the duke.”

I snorted. We were seemingly arriving in the capital at the exact same time as one of the most influential people not only in Vestonia, but in all Mainland. He controlled the southern provinces which, essentially, fed the entire country. Popularly, he was even called the king of Aquitaine.

Honestly though, repeating that around here was a good way to end up headless. De Gondy himself would perform the beheading. Or rather his people. The precedent had been established. Particularly now that the King of Vestonia was keeping such jealous watch over any suspicious chatter after suppressing the uprising and executing the rebels.

“I didn’t see any armbands on His Grace’s riders,” Kevin piped up from back in the coach.

“Because they didn’t have any,” I responded.

“So the Duke de Gondy has yet to take a side?” Kevin’s question was more rhetorical than anything.

I just shrugged and shook my head.

“Apparently so.”

The last few hours of our trip down the royal tract were observed closely by groups of nobles riding past us. Almost all of them had small thin armbands of various colors. Some were green, others blue, while others still flaunted a red shade.

Bertrand, who I’d sent out for information, figured everything out very quickly. Apparently, all these colors denoted various princes. Having three sons, Carl III the Victorious had yet to declare a dauphin of Vestonia. In other words, the king was dithering in his choice of heir.

There were lots of rumors about why the king was being so indecisive. And each theory was more nonsensical than the next. In one way or another, the king was giving his subjects a reason to voice their own preferences. I suspected that was precisely what Carl III was hoping to achieve. Still though, who could say what was going on in the monarch’s head?

He was clearly no fool. Much less a weakling. I suspected he simply knew his own children too well and more importantly knew who they associated with.

I had to say that Carl III, who earned glory on the battlefield in his youth and brutally suppressed all disobedience, had actively concentrated all power in Vestonia in his hand. And to my eye, he did quite a good job of it. Particularly considering the fact that his daddy the king, a lover of wine, hunting and fancy balls, had left him a government which had essentially been split into three parts.

As dauphin, Carl quenched the fires of war in the western baronies, bashed in the heads of the barbarians invading the northern provinces, came to terms with the priests of the Forefather and had just recently suppressed the rebellion Max’s father played a part in.

As an aside, I had looked into the chronology of that rebellion, dug into some parallels and concluded that Carl III had essentially provoked the rebellion himself. Surely, he had long known about the conspiracy and pushed his opponents to act. If the king himself were not involved, the nobles would most likely not have moved so soon. They’d have kept scheming and preparing in their castle, conducting expansive discussions and arguing about Vestonia’s great future.

As was only logical, Carl III quickly suppressed the rebellion, confiscated all the conspirators’ fortunes, and thus filled his coffers with the funds he so desperately needed for the upcoming war. Unlike Alfonso V, king of Atalia, who was mired in debts, Carl III was in a more favorable position.

As an aside, based on the information that I got from Tomcat, I had concluded that things in Atalia were, to put it lightly, not going great. Alfonso V, popularly known as the Pious, was under the financial thumb of the priestly Order of the Scarlet Shield, whose knights took a solemn vow to exterminate all True Gifted in Mainland. De facto, the country was ruled by the grand magister of the knightly order. As an aside, that was one of the reasons I was in no rush to visit Atalia. I had no desire to end my life on a pyre... Or however they executed true gifted...

The order was also a thorn in the side of Carl III. The issue was that many of the Scarlet Knights, as they were popularly known, were gifted and mainly combat mages. And I had already seen just how effective they were as strykers.

But that was not all. To fill his coffers, Alfonso V had started issuing counterfeit coins. Every month, his golden reals and silver escudos grew lighter. Add to that high taxes, peasant rebellions, plagues, and famines in the northern provinces... The sovereign of Atalia must have been desperate to improve his financial situation on the back of the “buffer” counties and baronies and also, if possible, the Vestonians.

We got into town without issue. Honestly though, we did have to spend a bit of time waiting at the gates, but the line went quick.

I found Old Herouxville charming. It was pretty much exactly how I imagined. An old stone giant that harbored many ancient secrets and legends.

The streets were crowded. The Old Capital’s merchant quarter, which Bertrand confidently led us through, reminded me of a raging river with its constant streams of humanity. The densely packed stalls, slowly strolling hawkers, unhurried buyers, foreign gawkers randomly stopping in passageways to look on in astonishment at all the havoc — this quarter made Sardent’s market seem much less grand. I heard screams, laughter, whinnying horses and bleating sheep from every direction. The air was saturated with delicious smells of hot food, boiling oil, spices, meat, and fish.

Every last alleyway specialized in something different. The smithy alley gave off a telltale metal clanking sound. The tailor street was hung with colorful fabrics. One street down, I saw bouquets of hanging sausages and smoked meats. Saddlers, bootmakers, carpenters, and potters; taverns and pubs; apothecaries and barber shops — this place seemed to have everything a person could want.

With Bertrand as guide, we very quickly found our way to an inexpensive but decently appointed inn in the Old Capital, where I rented us a set of rooms for the week. That was how long I’d given myself to get to know Herouxville before presenting myself to my dear uncle Heinrich.

Leaving Jacques, Gunnar and Kevin behind to unload, the first thing I did was head for Herouxville’s famed baths, asking Bertrand to show me to yet another place.

* * *

“So, this is the place I grew up,” I snorted, taking a scrutinizing look at the manor Ferdinand de Gramont had furnished for his bastard.

Max’s old house was located in an elite quarter of the capital, and doubtless was one of the oldest homes in the city. That was not to say it was in a bad state, though. Just that compared to the other structures I’d seen, the three-story stone building with its pretty yard and little pond looked more like a small castle. I immediately told Bertrand my theory.

“You’re absolutely right, monsieur,” the old servant said, no longer paying any mind to my “memory lapses.” “This castle is one of the most ancient chateaux in Herouxville.” And immediately added: “And best defended. But you never liked it.”

“Did I ever explain why?”

“You said you wanted to live in a more modern and refined home. You found it too old fashioned. You also used to complain that your friends would make fun of you.”

I snorted. Sounded just like Max. He was a real dunderhead.

“You know something?” I came. “I’ve changed my mind. I like this castle. It gives me a... homey feeling or something.

---ENDE DER LESEPROBE---