Last Life Book 6: Chapter 6

Château de Toury

County de Marbot

“YOU’RE EXCUSED, GERALDINE,” said Aurélie de Marbot. “I’d like to be alone with my father.”

“Yes, My Lady.” With a bow, Geraldine strode briskly out of the count’s bedroom.

As soon as the door closed, Aurélie turned to look at her father lying on his sickbed in front of her. Tears appeared in the corner of the young woman’s eyes.

She always rembered her father as he had been: tall and strong. Energetic and full of power. The person before her, however, was nothing but a dried-up husk of a man. His thin, almost transparent skin was stretched tightly over sharp cheekbones that jutted unpleasantly out of his face. His hair, which had once been black and flowing, was thin and snow white, to the point that it resembled clouds in a bright winter sky. His lips did nothing more than tremble pathetically in his sleep; his breathing was faint, scarcely even perceptible. Moreover, this was his condition after a month of intensive treatnt from a healer.

Aurélie could barely stand to think about the day when she had returned ho after the horrible masquerade and burst into her father’s bedroom. It was all she could do to restrain herself from ordering the death of the mute servant whom her brother had tasked with “keeping an eye” on the Count.

The servant’s response had been to fall to the floor, moaning incomprehensibly in an apparent attempt to plead for forgiveness. It turned out that the man, Jean Simon, could read. Wiping his tears all around his face, he quickly wrote out his story with a shaking hand.

And that was how Aurélie learned the truth about the man’s “loyalty” to Émile. Her brother had torn Jean’s tongue out, and promised to slaughter his whole family unless he complied with Émile’s every order. As proof that his threats were not empty, Émile handed Jean his eldest son’s severed ear. And he warned him that for even the smallest slip-up, Jean would see more pieces of his children sliced off and brought to him.

As she re-read the man’s revelation, Aurélie caught herself thinking that the whole chain of events must be a horrible nightmare, which she would hopefully awaken from at any mont. When a tearful Jean then took a small leather bag out from behind his belt and shook two dried-up, darkened ears and three fingers out of it (one of which was positively tiny), Aurélie couldn’t bear the horror anymore. She collapsed into a faint.

For several days thereafter, the Viscountess was in a state of feverish mania; she kept seeing a gigantic lizard, ripping into n, won, and children with its hideous claws. And then devouring them whole.

By the end of the fifth day, the disease subsided. And it happened surprisingly quickly. All thanks to her faithful Geraldine. Her handmaid was fortunate enough to find a good healer; this was by no ans sothing that could be taken for granted, given the King’s illness. The healer began feeding Aurélie various miraculous concoctions. When this proved effective, he also took over the Count’s treatnt. And there, too, he was successful, especially considering that he was more or less just a normal healer.

The Count de Marbot’s condition gradually improved. Which inevitably helped Aurélie’s mood as well. First of all, this was because Aurélie (who truly loved her father) was simply happy to see him getting better; second, it was because as long as her father lived, Aurélie was under his parental protection. At the sa ti, however, given his condition, the managent of the County was effectively in her hands. Put simply, the Viscountess de Marbot could justify anything she wanted to do simply by saying that she was carrying out her father’s wishes.

And one of the first things she did (citing being in mourning for her brother as the reason) was to postpone decision on several dozen docunts and agreents that her late brother had been planning to sign. For example, the agreent with the Count de Gramont regarding the Forest of Thiliez. By doing so, Aurélie obtained so breathing room for herself — ti she could use to sort out the ss her brother had left her.

Surprisingly, the Count de Gramont reacted to the decision with perfect calm. He even sent a letter conveying his condolences about the death of Aurélie’s brother, and his assurances that he could wait as long as need be. The private attorney who had been handling things for Émile, however, was a different story altogether; he imdiately started advising Aurélie to sign the agreent as quickly as possible, along with several others that “couldn’t be delayed.”

The attorney’s intense pressure and zeal made Aurélie wary. When she shared her worries with Geraldine, the maid agreed with her mistress completely. They decided to look for a new attorney, soone who could be trusted to give impartial advice on the subject. And they soon found one. Specifically, a man by the na of Mathieu Chabrolle. A respected lawyer with a spotless reputation.

Once Monsieur Chabrolle had a chance to look over the contracts that Émile’s private attorney had so insistently urged Aurélie to sign, it beca clear that most of them were decidedly not in the best interests of the County de Marbot.

Being well-acquainted with Émile’s business acun (he may have been a monster, but he was no fool, and would never have agreed to such concessions), the Viscountess de Marbot began to suspect duplicity on the part of his private attorney.

Alas — proving that the papers were prepared without Émile’s involvent was impossible. Who knew what might have made the late Viscount de Marbot agree to yield such valuable concessions in his negotiations with his neighbors? Maybe he had so hidden motives — sothing he was keeping secret even from his family?

In light of recent events, mory of the late Viscount in society at large could hardly be called “fond,” and the sa was true of his family generally. Aurélie spent the month after his death in isolation, living for all the world as though she were on a desert island in the middle of a vast ocean. No one from Vestonian high society was in a hurry to grace her with their presence. But Aurélie was used to a solitary lifestyle; in fact, she was actually with the situation.

As for her brother’s private attorney... The Viscountess limited her retribution to simply firing him with a minimum of fuss. True, Mathieu Chabrolle (who agreed to manage affairs for the de Marbots from then on) promised that the corrupt lawyer would soon find that the story of his dirty deeds had spread into certain very important circles. Chabrolle assured the Viscountess that her decision to postpone decisions and beco acquainted with the County’s affairs was absolutely the correct decision in the circumstances.

For Aurélie, the whole incident was more proof (if such was needed) of her neighbors’ true colors. Heinrich de Gramont, for example: he was so convincing in his assurances of friendship, and so accommodating with regards to the delay... But he couldn’t possibly have been unaware of that attorney’s crooked machinations. There was good reason, after all, that Mathieu Chabrolle’s first piece of advice was to hold off on the agreent with de Gramont. The question required careful study and investigation.

Truthfully, however, Aurélie wouldn’t have been very surprised to find out that the Count de Gramont had stooped so low. What else would you expect from a person who would betray his own brother, and consign his own nephews to execution? You would be well advised to watch your back around such a family.

Although maybe there were so exceptions... In her heart, Aurélie was genuinely glad that Maximillian Renard (recently created the Margrave de Valier) was no longer a part of that family. Sure, he might technically have been disowned by his family, but Aurélie understood that really, Max was the one who made the decision to leave.

Every ti she thought about Renard, she would find herself in the grip of so strange, inexplicable excitent. And these thoughts... Well, she had often imagined what it would have been like if their wedding had actually taken place... A flash of heat would always sweep through Aurélie. It always took her breath away. Her heart would flutter like a bird in a cage.

Oh, how she hated herself at those monts, even though she couldn’t help feeling like she had also missed out on sothing at the sa ti... Thinking about the man who had killed her brother and beco an enemy of the entire de Marbot line — but who had also freed her from the clutches of a monstrous tyrant in doing so — would always swamp her mind in a morass of powerful, contradictory feelings.

On the one hand, she felt an inexplicable fear and nervousness when she thought about him. The duel, and its bloody ending, would never fade from Aurélie’s mory. But on the other hand, she couldn’t deny that Renard had displayed courage and nobility, and also (albeit incidentally) freed her from the train of horrors that had accompanied her for years. To be honest, Max had saved her father, too; when Aurélie thought about this it always inspired a feeling of deep gratitude and even involuntary admiration. This internal struggle between naless fear and genuine gratitude, together with an inexplicable desire to see Renard again and the knowledge that she now had a duty to her family where this man was concerned, turned every day into anguish for Aurélie.

Just then, however, the Viscountess was given a reprieve from her thoughts by the sound of the door opening. She turned and saw Geraldine.

“What is it?” Aurélie asked quietly.

“The healer has arrived, My Lady,” replied the maid.

“Invite him in, of course,” said the Viscountess.

A few monts later, Monsieur Robert entered the bedroom. His round face was brightened by a kind smile. Despite his sixty years and slight plumpness, he was quite energetic, and it didn’t seem to cause him any discomfort when he bowed.

“Good day, Monsieur Robert,” said Aurélie warmly. “You’re one of the very few people whom we are always genuinely glad to see in this house.”

“Thank you, Your Worship,” the healer replied with another bow. “You honor . May I inquire as to your health, and that of your father? Has anything changed?”

“Only for the better!” Aurélie smiled. “And it’s all thanks to you and your wonderful dicines!”

“Excellent,” the healer smiled back, and then continued: “I’d like to examine His Grace, if I may.”

A few minutes later, when the Count’s exam was complete, Monsieur Robert announced in an energetic voice:

“His progress is encouraging. Another two weeks, and we should be able to increase the dosage.”

“Is there any way we might speed up his recovery?” Aurélie asked hopefully as she glanced down at her sleeping father.

“There’s a saying in our profession,” replied Monsieur Robert as he put his instrunts away in his bag. ““Better is the opposite of good.” Your father’s body is seriously weakened. Increasing the potion dosage now would only harm him.”

Aurélie let out a deep sigh, but she still smiled brightly as she replied:

“Master Robert, I trust you completely, and I promise you I’ll follow your instructions absolutely to the letter.”

The healer smiled, and was obviously about to bow and bid farewell, but the Viscountess stopped him.

“Monsieur Robert, I hope you’ll agree to join for lunch? My chef has promised to prepare his specialty today, partridge au vin.”

The healer (who evidently had a taste for fine foods) perked up at the invitation.

“It would be my pleasure to join you, Your Worship.”

After leaving the Count’s bedroom, Aurélie and Monsieur Robert headed for the dining hall, with Geraldine walking along behind them.

“By the way, Monsieur Robert,” said Aurélie. “I’d like to thank you for advising to consult Monsieur Chabrolle. I’m very happy with how he’s handling things.”

“I’m glad, Your Worship,” the healer replied. “Mathieu Chabrolle helped imnsely in setting up and opening my practice here. When I first moved, I took up residence in the rchants’ district of the Old Capital. They say that the area has really transford recently. In fact, it might well be called one of the safest places in all of Herouxville.”

“How interesting...” the Viscountess mused, before asking: “You ntioned that a move?”

“Yes, Your Worship,” Monsieur Robert replied eagerly. “Not so long ago, I was living and working out west. In a small town nobody’s ever heard of called Abbeville.”

“Abbeville?” Aurélie said with a slight frown. “Hm... I think I’ve heard of it before... And might I ask what induced you to move to the capital?”

“A letter of invitation from a longti acquaintance,” said Monsieur Robert; then, with a slight hint of laughter in his voice, he added: “He was my patient once as well...”

“You know, Monsieur Robert,” Aurélie replied with a smile. “I’d have done the sa thing in your place! Ah — here we are...”

If Aurélie had turned to glance behind her for a mont as she crossed the threshold into the dining hall, she would have noticed Geraldine and Monsieur Robert exchanging a aningful glance.

* * *

Herouxville

The “Fox Den”

“I must admit, you’ve managed to surprise us,” said Kurt von Hartha with a smile as he saluted with his glass of brandy. “These wagons of yours... They really are hos on wheels, as you put it. And that field kitchen... Well, I’ve never seen any aristocrat display such concern for his soldiers.”

After dinner, we were sitting in my fireplace hall, sipping brandy and carrying on a leisurely conversation. The six wagons outside, one of which had been built to my specifications as a field kitchen, had (to put it mildly) made a good impression on my new soldiers. The masters, whom I had tasked with getting the wagons together after our return from Northland, had managed to finish everything on ti.

When Jacques, a longti fan of all these improvents, saw the “updates,” he couldn’t calm down for a long ti. I actually had to have a word with him — he wanted to join on campaign. But it wasn’t all that difficult to remind him of his duty. He was no fool, after all — he understood very well that he was needed in Herouxville. As were all his n, who, like Jacques, had sworn an oath of loyalty to . They had officially beco my personal army.

As for the new arrivals... Bertrand had housed the officers in the castle, and the rest of the n had set up an improvised field camp, which had been laid out and planned ahead of ti on my orders in a small area behind the castle. Thankfully, such a necessity had been foreseen by the original designers of the Fox Den.

Of course, I could also have housed people in the north wing of the castle. In fact, there was room for a large number of people there. Marc had ntioned that there was a barracks there during the ti of the Clairmonts. But I thought it would be best for the “Savages” to get used to the wagons and the field kitchen for a few days before we set out. Basically, I wanted them to learn to use everything they would need on campaign. As you might expect, I put Jacques in charge of the instruction.

“You’re an aristocrat too, after all,” I noted as Kurt and I continued our conversation. “And it doesn’t seem to like you make a habit of living large at your n’s expense.”

“Oh!” The captain smiled. “That’s a different story altogether. They’re my brothers in arms, first and foremost.”

Hm, I thought... Good. He got the hint.

“I understand, however, that not all your people were thrilled with your decision to follow ?” I asked.

I was referring specifically to Georg von Linz, the captain’s right-hand man. This had co to my attention during a chat with Lorin while the rcenaries were getting settled and organized after their journey.

By the way, the hejdelf struck as a pretty savvy character. Besides that, the nisse assured that he could be trusted. Even ignoring the fact that I was an auring, my authority in Lorin’s eyes increased even further when he saw my mistrals. Which wasn’t surprising — thanks to true vision, I was able to pick the very best specins available.

You should have seen the look on the hejdelf’s face when he saw those beauties. They, in turn, seed to regard Lorin as one of their own. Hm... Actually, I was pretty taken aback with the horses myself. Verena/Sophia’s ancestors sure knew their way around horses. It was on her advice that I started looking for this specific breed.

“Lorin ca to see you, huh?” Kurt asked with a wry smile.

“Well, it’s hard to miss him glaring at ,” ca my evasive reply.

“Georg is just like that,” Kurt shrugged. “To be honest, I have a hard ti rembering what he looks like when he smiles. And yes, I’ll be honest: you’re not the only one who sent us an offer of work. Georg was against coming to Herouxville.”

“I’m guessing he was trying to convince you to head for Northland?” I asked, and imdiately added: “And no, the hejdelf didn’t tell anything. And I’ll tell you sothing else — you shouldn’t be so suspicious of him. He’s loyal to you.”

“What makes you so sure the northerners wanted to hire us?” Kurt asked, suddenly serious.

“A unit of fifty experienced soldiers, almost half of whom are powerful gifted?” I snickered. “There are only three people who could have even considered it. Vestonian aristocrats, the Atalians, or the northerners. And we can rule out the first two for obvious reasons, which leaves Sharptooth as the only possibility.”

“You’re right about the Atalians,” Kurt nodded. “But why do you think the Vestonian aristocrats are out of the question? You’re one of them yourself.”

“Simple,” I replied. “You ca to yourself. Which ans other houses turned you down. And I wouldn’t believe it for a minute if you said you ca to first. I think that you realized the way the wind was blowing after Lord Gray turned you down. That’s why you ca to Sigurd.”

“And you’re not worried about running afoul of His Majesty? Kurt asked, still deadly serious. “After all, once he learns that you’ve hired one of his allies’ enemies — “

“He already knows,” I interrupted him. “And he said that he doesn’t give a shit who I hire. I can hire the devil himself, for all he cares. He even gave the requisite papers.”

Kurt’s eyes widened after I ntioned the papers.

“Wow...” This had obviously given him food for thought.

“The King is extrely keen to see our mission succeed, as am I. And I’ll tell you sothing else — when we retake control of my new holdings, I promise you that your efforts won’t go unrewarded. I think we’ll all have plenty to do on the border with the Shadow.”

As I spoke, I could see the captain’s eyes begin to gleam with a mix of cautious optimism and skepticism. His slightly-narrowed gaze reflected years and years of experience gained through hard campaigning. They shone at the prospect of riches to be conquered, but I could also see a healthy dose of doubt at the sa ti. Kurt obviously knew the usual value of grandiose promises from an aristocrat. Normally, they weren’t even worth the breath it took to make them. His gaze was penetrating and appraising. The captain seed to be trying to peer into my soul. And I could understand why. The lives of his people would depend on his decision.

“I suppose you’re going to promise us more than Sharptooth could have?” Kurt asked drily.

“Am I to understand that so of your people think they would have had the riches of the Svartvald at their fingertips?” I smiled as I answered his question with one of my own.

“You don’t think that’s possible? Why not?”

“You know the answer to that question already,” I said. “The Blades of Dusk won’t tolerate competition. And Sharptooth wouldn’t want to share the wealth anyway. I think we both know very well what the Konung of Vinvtervald wants to do. He’d have thrown you into the thick of the fighting.”

“You an to say that there won’t be as much fighting in Bergonia?” Kurt snickered.

“No,” I shook my head. “I’m not promising you a cakewalk. But unlike Sharptooth, I have extrely good reasons to safeguard the lives of my warriors as much as I possibly can. I’ve got big plans for the coming decades, and I’m going to need dependable people to carry them out.”

Kurt’s expression changed ever so slightly, but it was enough to convince that I had caught his interest. I realized, of course, that nobody would simply take at my word, but it was a good start. Everything would fall into place during our campaign together.