Betrayal of Conscience
Ingrid
Unknown to many, there was a reason for Lady Audrey's recent silence. Apart from the Baroness herself, only Ingrid was privy to her training setbacks. Despite the initial promise shown in mastering skills like night vision and basic strengthening magic, it ultimately turned out to be false hope.
"Three nights ago, I assisted My Lady in trying to tap into her source, but we were unsuccessful. Since then, I've tried several thods, but..." Ingrid explained to Lord Lansius.
The Lord exhaled deeply, his posture straight, his face marked with a hint of worry. His slightly unkempt black hair lent him a sowhat brash appearance, belying his thoughtful deanor. Turning to Lady Audrey, he gently placed his hand on her shoulder and reassured her, "Audrey, no matter what, mage or not, you're still you—the sa woman I fell in love with."
Ingrid blinked in surprise and looked away. Such a show of affection was uncommon. But she realized that it was probably a calculated move, as the Baroness, though still sulking, was no longer angry. Instead, the two shared an embrace.
Pouting, the Lady muttered, "You made a Baroness, and I can't even beco your mage."
"You're already more than a mage to ," he said with a smile.
"Liar," she responded softly. "Isolte trained as a hunter, and I couldn't even fend off a half-breed. I'm a failure."
"Hey, don't say that." Lansius' gentle gaze then caught Ingrid's. He smiled and nodded at her, motioning that it was okay to leave Audrey to him. Ingrid quickly bowed her head and excused herself.
Upon leaving the tent, Ingrid felt an echo of her student's frustration in her heart. The predicant was unheard of, yet not impossible. Back in her own tent, she left the second set of carpets untouched on the floor, in case the Lady wished to talk or attempt another session.
Sighing, Ingrid sat down, lost in thought.
Lady Audrey had demonstrated basic strengthening and night vision in combat, clear indicators of her gift of magic. Yet, it was now discovered that her source was empty, devoid of any mana flow. The revelation was devastating. Without the source, her mastery of the strengthening skill would be as useless as a fireplace without firewood.
That revelation was the one that turned the Lady emotional as Ingrid confird her fears: her magical potential had vanished.
Despite nurous attempts, Ingrid could detect only the normal amount of magic within the Lady’s body.
Whatever magic potential Sir Morton and Ingrid had once seen was now gone. And without the source, it couldn't be replenished.
Ingrid leaned against a wooden pole that supported the tent, feeling a pang of guilt. She had praised the Lady, assuring her she was one of her talented students, but it had turned out to be misleading.
After so ti, Ingrid retrieved a silken pouch from her waist, revealing the gemstone of strength that the Lord had used on that fateful night.
Moved by his generosity as the host and her guilt towards the Lady, Ingrid began channeling magic into the gemstone. An expert like her required no incantation, but a ntal command. The mana then flowed from her source into the stone.
She could feel the stone was ancient and dwarven-made. Unlike the gemstone of light which was younger and less intricate, this ancient gem was reluctant to accept her magic. Like a picky eater toddler, the gemstone would only occasionally take a nibble or two before refusing more. It was the mage's duty to harmonize her magic, coaxing the gem to accept more.
The process was ntally exhausting, akin to nurturing a plant. Slowly, the monotony overwheld her, and her thoughts drifted.
Could it be that the Lady had so little source that she had used it all in that fight without realizing it?
Ingrid had yet to shake off that train of thought when a sharp sting disrupted her concentration. The gemstone, which had just begun to nibble at her mana, now fell silent.
She groaned in frustration. Her thoughts had been so focused on the Lady that she overlooked her own burgeoning issue. For several days, she had noticed that using magic had beco difficult and sotis painful. Initially, she thought it was just fatigue from continuous travel by carriage, as they were on the march. Yet now, she felt suspicious that there might be another cause.
Have I reached my limit...?
In regards to the magic source, there were two schools of thought. One maintained that the source was finite, and thus one could only use what was available. The adherents of this belief discouraged unnecessary, constant, or frequent usage of magic, fearing it would deplete the source.
While they agreed that the source could replenish, they viewed it as too small to be relied upon. This perspective was widely accepted, as it accounted for why older mages lost their ability to use magic, suggesting they had exhausted their finite source.
Interestingly, though not widely known, a mage could tap into an alternative source. However, this path was rarely taken due to the intricate and obscure art of identifying the perfect location for a new source and executing the process. Not just any ancient forest or cave qualified as a source, and suitability possibly varied from one individual to another.
This knowledge was a nearly forgotten art, likely retained only by the grand progenitors or elves who had honed their magical skills long before humans. With that in mind, Ingrid decided not to pursue this path, fearing she might give the Lady another false hope. She had never heard of anyone, not even the wise mages who taught her, ever perford a source transfer. Reflecting on her ntors made Ingrid think about her own journey.
She had been in the east of Lowlandia for several years on a personal errand, traveling from towns to villages in search of affordable land for her retirent, as well as looking for talented children with gifts. Fortune had led her to be assigned as Lady Audrey's tutor, but now, her own gift had begun to wane.
As she allowed her mind to wander, her thoughts unexpectedly drifted to the Lady's golden eyes. The sight, both srizing and unnerving, still sent shivers down her spine. To Ingrid, it was a breathtaking display of raw magic, one she feared she might never witness again.
***
Lansius
The results of Audrey's mage training were still a shock. Although she had co to accept the results, a lingering sense of disappointnt shadowed her. Becoming a mage ant growing closer to her master, Isolte—a dream of hers. Yet now, that dream had turned into a tangled ss. She even suspected that Isolte might have taught her incorrectly, which could explain why her subsequent training with Ingrid was fruitless.
As of now, Audrey could only use whatever remained of her magical potential, which she believed to be small and stagnant.
"A laughable situation," she openly mocked herself as they sat in their private quarters, sharing salty snacks while waiting for supper. "A mage without a source. A wick without a candle."
Lansius chuckled. Their relationship had changed since their marriage. Audrey now was more comfortable showing her vulnerable side, trusting that Lansius wouldn't be offended or treat her wrongly. Thus, she could act this way when they were alone.
"Why the laughter?" she looked at him, judging.
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"Because you look cute," he said gently.
"Hmph, flattery."
Lansius smiled. "So, what did Ingrid say about this?"
"Well, she tried to convince that as long as one was born with a source, there should be a way."
"So, there's another thod?" he asked, eating so dried fruits that tasted like raisins.
"There's one, but it's expensive."
The answer surprised him. "What thod?"
"To use a gemstone like yours as an alternate source. But it'll be costly and last only for a fraction of the ti," she explained.
"How about if you use mine?" Lansius offered without hesitation.
"No." Audrey shook her head, then gazed at him seriously. "You'll need it. You almost didn't make it," she said, her voice nearly choked with emotion.
Lansius chose not to argue; he, too, understood that he had almost not made it. Even now, his bruises had yet to heal completely. Without the magic in the gemstone, which had amplified his strength and likely toughened his bones and muscles, he would surely have perished.
Feeling the thirst in his throat, he poured water into two silver goblets and offered one to her.
Audrey accepted the goblet and drank from it. Afterward, she changed the subject, "Since I have no source, I can only wait for my body to sohow accumulate enough potential. It's probably going to take a lot of ti, if it's even possible."
Lansius nodded and suggested, "Drey, think of it this way. Becoming a mage is just a bonus. You're already a Baroness, and you can employ a mage if you wish."
"We should get a mage," she replied without hesitation. "I can't imagine sumr in the castle without one."
"How co my warrior wife beca so spoiled?" he teased.
Audrey pouted, rose from her seat to approach him, and then sat on his lap. "My Lord, you're the one responsible for turning this squire into a spoiled damsel."
"No regrets," Lansius declared, picking a wild berry from a platter and bringing it to her lips. She took it, munched on the berry, and unexpectedly kissed him.
"That tasted different," he comnted afterward, while Audrey rose, giggling and reaching for her goblet.
"You know what?" Lansius mused aloud. "I think you should give it more chance. A ntor is hard to co by and perhaps she could try sothing." He paused before adding, "Don't set expectations lest you be hurt, but do make an effort. No reason not to anyway."
Audrey nodded at his advice but responded with a challenge, "I'll do it if you snap out of your worries."
Lansius t her gaze. "My worries...?"
She shook her head in disbelief. "Oh husband, I'm your wife. I see it clearly, like watching a fine horse among ponies."
"Hang on. What am I worried about?" he asked, curious.
"Nicopola," she declared. "You're troubled that the right way is to venture into the province, liberate the land, and rush to make it grow food before famine kills what remains of the people in there."
Lansius was taken aback, scratched his head, and asked, "Who told you that? Servius?"
Audrey crossed her arms and looked smug. "Did I guess it right?"
He stared at the small table, adorned with plates of dried fruit and wildberries, softened biscuits, and goblets of water. "Sotis I forget how keen and sharp your intuition is."
"Of course, it's sharp. I've won several battles with it," she retorted proudly.
Lansius recalled how her column had won against Sergio in Korimor and how her cavalry always exceeded expectations.
"Lans," she called him softly. "Even if you don't trust yourself, there's and others whose counsel you can trust."
He nodded at her advice.
She continued, "We've co far. Our army is intact. Our supplies are intact. And Umberland, while being shady, probably can be trusted, or at least our goals are aligned."
Lansius still refrained from giving a response.
Audrey knelt, gently grasped his hands, and gazed into his eyes, saying, "Nicopola is ripe for the taking."
Lansius looked to the side, mulling, "Drey, all I hear is greed."
"It may be. Bla it on . But this is not about chance. It's bigger than greed."
Her words piqued his interest. "What do you an?"
"It's not about seizing an opportunity; it's about doing good."
"Even a well-intentioned act can be damaging in the long run for both parties. If we move to Nicopola and occupy the region, they might welco us for a year or two, but after that, they'll want their land back. We don't have--"
"That bald Gottfried took Arvena without any pretext," she argued passionately.
"Rumored to be bald, Gottfried, and he has a pretext... that is to..." Lansius fell into deep contemplation.
Audrey watched with anticipation, giving him the ti he needed to think.
"I don't rember exactly, but isn't it sothing along the lines of intervening to stop conflict?"
"A bogus and lousy one if you ask ," she quipped.
Lansius chuckled but remarked, "If I use the sa lousy pretext to invade Nicopola, then what's the difference between and Gottfried?"
Audrey sighed and quoted, "In tis of great moral crisis, neutrality is a betrayal of conscience."
Hearing that, Lansius was stunned. He had heard a similar adage before. "Did Ingrid teach you this?"
Instead of answering, she grinned and replied proudly, "No, I read it in a book. So, indeed, the way to conquer you lies within the pages." Her expression turned smug.
Lansius chuckled and exhaled deeply before confiding in her, "I refuse to beco an enabler of greed, but I'll listen to counsel. Let's reconvene tomorrow morning."
***
The next day, as the sun rose above the mountains in the east, the guards who kept watch on the shallow river crossing spotted silhouettes approaching. He imdiately sent a man to alert the camp. As the silhouettes grew nearer, the guards paled; it was clear that groups of half-beasts were marching toward them.
Suddenly, their cheval de frise barricade seed grossly inadequate. The guardsn found a sliver of consolation in the presence of a small column of ard n and officers on horseback, alongside the half-beasts. Their presence made the approaching group look less dangerous.
The groups of half-breeds and humans marched in an orderly manner, their banner clearly marking the heraldry of Umberland.
"Halt, this is the encampnt of the Lord of Korelia," one of the captains shouted, as a hundred more allies poured in from their camp, weapons in hand.
"Salut! We are here under orders from the Lord of Umberland to escort a guest and deliver a letter," one of the half-breeds, clad in ringmail and wielding a glaive, responded with dignity.
...
Against the Lord's expectations, in the morning he was greeted by an envoy escorted by half-breeds and humans who patiently waited a distance away from the command tent. Despite recent developnts and the alliance, many were still nervous about being near half-breeds.
As the Lord and Lady were preparing themselves, the lone guest waited, standing tall and comfortably as if a sentry. She was among the younger of the half-breed bloodline in Umberland. Her ancestors were third-generation half-breeds who remained as slaves in Nicopola long after the rest of their kind had disappeared from the region.
Even when owning half-beasts beca unacceptable and was seen as perversion, many in power still kept them as exotic mates. Humans in this world, blessed with mutated genes passed down from the ancients, could produce offspring with another race. Unfortunately, this ability was seen as a sign of their virility, thus the practice remained popular among certain groups.
However, being a noble was not always a rose garden. Even before the era of hardship that began a century ago, many houses had fallen into financial trouble and thus needed to sell the poor creatures away.
The guest's ancestors were among the lucky ones who did not wear the eastern kingdoms' collars. Their human brothers and sisters learned about the Kae monastery, and the half-breeds were quietly smuggled into Umberland.
Her ancestors were of the third generation, who could speak as fluently as humans, but the guest belonged to the sixth generation. This generational count was determined only by the number of human lineages she possessed. After four or five generations of human parents, the half-breeds developed an intellect almost indistinguishable from that of humans, while retaining so of the beastn's physical features.
At a glance, to humans, the guest appeared indistinguishable from Lord Beatrix, sharing a similarly wolfish face. However, her eyes radiated a certain youthfulness.
A squire ca out and without a fanfare escorted the guest into the command tent, where she spotted the Lord and Lady along with their command staff.
The half-breed politely offered a sealed letter, which Sterling took and delivered to Lansius, who then read:
The Lord instructed to write this introduction letter. The half-breed in your presence does not have a human na, and her native na cannot be transcribed using common words. She is interested in one of your gallant knights, Sir Harold, and would be honored to serve as a fighter, scout, cook, or even, in her own word, as a warm blanket.
The Lord deed this arrangent fitting and has agreed to her request. Please do not misinterpret our intentions. We simply wish to offer a warrior who desires to serve under your command. May her prowess be a valuable asset in your endeavors, and may the experience enrich her tribe upon her return.
May you always enjoy good health and favorable weather. And may the friendship between our Houses remain strong and truthful.
Lansius handed the letter to his wife, who imdiately perused it. She looked calr upon seeing Sir Harold ntioned in the letter.
"It's said that you wish to serve as Sir Harold's fighter companion," Lansius asked the guest.
"Indeed, My Lord," the half-breed answered firmly.
Every eye turned to Sir Harold, who cleared his throat but remained stoic as he responded, "I don’t recall granting the Lord of Umberland any favors."
"To be given such a lavish gift so shortly after a discussion slls of treason, my good sir," Sterling jested.
"And you must be my chief enabler, boy. I'll be sure to drag you down with , just in case," the tall knight retorted.
Everyone chuckled at their banter, even the half-breed.
Observing her, Sir Harold comnted, "I don’t rember seeing you among the attendees. How do you know ?"
"I saw you from atop the battlents," her maw ford what appeared to be a smile.
Sir Harold's gaze t Lord Lansius', who then gestured for him to continue. Turning back to the guest, Sir Harold asked, "Do you have issues with humans or Nicopolans?"
"Only if they have problems with ," she said forthrightly.
Most people in the room nodded, deeming the answer sowhat fair.
Servius, who had been silent, stepped forward and asked boldly, "Do you see as a threat?"
The half-breed locked gaze with the old condottiere. "You have a distinct sll, just like the rest of this army, but as far as I'm aware, I have no issue with anyone here."
"And what about the Nicopolans at the ancient bulwark?" Servius pressed on.
Instead of answering, she challenged nonchalantly, "What about them? They shouldn’t pose a threat."
Her answer drew everyone's attention, so she clarified, "The plague. They fell victim to a plague."
***
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