Chapter 2
Lunch arrived several minutes later, arranged in silver inlaid magical containers that preserved the temperature and freshness of their contents. Liane scowled down at her al, leaving it untouched as their carriage rolled down the city streets.
“We’re going to the Empire,” she muttered.
“We are?” Florine furrowed her brow.
“We are! This is stupid – how can four eminently eligible bachelorettes not manage to find a single consort between them?”
“I wasn’t looking,” Clara said.
“ neither,” Ludmila added.
“I haven’t really been searching either,” Florine said, “but it might be nice…”
Liane looked up from her lunch, eyes shifting back and forth between them.
“Let’s do this,” she said. “Let’s go. All of us. There ain’t any better ti to do it!”
“Well,” Florine said, “most of the tribes I’ve been working with are going to be inactive for the winter…”
“You have a point about it being the best ti to go,” Clara said, “but I still don’t intend on accepting any consorts until I’m at least twenty.”
“Finding the right person takes ti,” Liane said. “Two and a half years might be what you need to figure things out.”
That was another thing that Liane didn’t seem to understand. Or at least she refused to accept it. If Clara so desired, she could simply notify the temples and they would do the looking for her. All she would need to do is pick out of a well-researched list of candidates drawn from the carefully curated records of their faith.
The way that Liane phrased things made it sound like she was looking for a romantic relationship, but she should have known better than that. While it might be nice to experience, romantic love was a luxury to the nobility. Having loveless relationships for the sake of political ties was normal, though it did not necessarily an that love would not blossom between such a match as ti went on. If not for political purposes, so other benefit would be pursued through marriage, such as financial gain, drawing in a talented individual or securing a valuable bloodline. The Nobles of the Sorcerous Kingdom had little need for political advantage or financial security, so the remainder was their priority.
Liane and Florine were indeed possessed of a discerning eye when it ca to their professional dealings, but Ludmila had no idea how they behaved when it ca to potential consorts. Perhaps they would be just as discerning and things would work out.
“We’ll see about that, I suppose,” Clara did not press the issue. “In the anti, there are quite a few things I would like to see in the Empire.”
“Great, well, don’t co crying if I snag soone you fancy,” Liane said. “What about you, Ludmila?”
“Sure.”
Liane drumd the sides of her magical container, as if she had run unexpectedly out of things to say.
“…really? I thought you’d be the hardest to convince – you stick to that border like a Giant Forest Leech.”
“Yes, it probably has sothing to do with being a border noble,” Ludmila replied. “So other things have happened that require to be in the Empire, however. Operations won’t begin until winter sets in, so I should be free to join you until then.”
“Are you permitted to tell us what your duties in the Empire are?” Florine asked.
“It’s a part of the ongoing changes to their security,” Ludmila answered. “I’ll be acting as a liaison between the Imperial Army and the Undead forces they’re incorporating into the Legions.”
Their carriage returned to the central district, where it turned to head towards Florine’s manor. Liane replaced the cover of her magical container, then placed a sheet of paper upon it.
“So,” she produced a pen, “when does everyone want to go?”
“We’re really going?”
“Of course!” Liane answered, “We even got Ludmila on board…hmm, there’s the festival committee eting tomorrow morning…how about we head out after that?”
Ludmila watched silently as Lady Wagner forged ahead. While Ludmila did look forward to spending ti together with everyone, was it really such a simple matter that they could leave on a day’s notice?
“What about accommodations?”
“The Empire is busy year-round,” Liane replied. “There are a lot of well-to-do travellers, and every city has a nice place to stay. If they’re needed, Florine and I have so connections we can call on.”
“And security arrangents?”
Liane drew her dagger in reply. She hiked up her skirts and buried the blade in her exposed thigh. Florine made a squeamish noise, but the result was practically the sa as if Ludmila had used the weapon on herself. The dagger simply entered her leg without creating a wound. Her friend’s Adamantine Girdle actually conferred damage reduction that was superior to Ludmila’s racial damage reduction, as it could not be bypassed by magic weapons.
“We can’t get sick,” Liane said as she yanked out the dagger. “We can’t be poisoned or mind-controlled. Weak spells can’t hurt us. I scared the crap out of one of my smiths yesterday by sticking a hand in his forge. Nothing happened to my hand, by the way. Or the equipnt.”
“So you are bestowed new equipnt ant to protect you from harm,” Ludmila frowned, “and the first thing you do is go out and try to harm yourself.”
“Heck yeah! Gotta see how everything works. I jumped out on the test course to get run over by a wagon the other day. Not even a scratch.”
She blinked wordlessly at Liane’s confident grin. Her friend had a bold inquisitiveness that could best even Germaine LeNez.
“Plus,” Liane said, “we each have a Shadow Demon from Lady Shalltear. If soone is dead set on hurting us, they’re gonna have to get through those guys, first.”
“You’re still going to have to inform the Empire that you’ll be there,” Ludmila said. “Arriving on such short notice seems overbearing.”
“It’s not an official visit – we’re going for personal reasons. Letting them know is just a courtesy…or maybe we could make it an official visit? That clause we have with the Empire might co in handy. ‘Prepare us your best n!’ Or sothing like that.”
“You are not abusing that clause,” Clara frowned.
“I was just kidding,” Liane rolled her eyes. “You all know I prefer to do my own shopping. Anyway, the longer we let them stew, the more likely we’ll get caught up in so stupidity. The Empire is just as sticky as Re-Estize when it cos to politics and ceremonial crap. The best way to counter that is to not give them ti to think and prepare.”
In the end, they settled on leaving the following afternoon, staying the night at the new border town under construction in Wagner County. They did not need to sleep, but their staff certainly did – each of them would bring their lady’s maids and a Human footman. As with their journey to Fassett County, they would be using carriages that could convey them much faster than the average coach. The trip to Arwintar would take them two days, with a stop in the city along the way.
Florine and Liane disembarked at their manors, and the Soul Eater brought Clara and Ludmila out of the city. She was pressed slightly into her seat as the carriage accelerated over the highway. Ludmila gave Clara a sidelong glance.
“You are going to be working on that translation in the Empire.”
“It seems like a golden opportunity, yes?” Clara gazed out the window, “Too many words in that diary see use in the Empire, and the way they showed up after they separated from Re-Estize seems a purposeful act. One can only believe that the Empire is the best lead when it cos to this mysterious nation from Katze’s past.”
This much was apparent to those versed in the regional languages. The script contained within the journal had bits and pieces that could be found in present-day language, but only the Empire seed to be making a sort of half-baked attempt at resurrecting words that had already fallen out of use. A disquieting sensation settled in the pit of her stomach.
“Sothing is not right,” Ludmila said.
“If you feel that way,” Clara looked over at her, “then there is probably sothing to it. We just need to figure out what it is.”
“Do you think whoever…erased Katze is still around?”
“You believe that bringing this investigation to the Empire is dangerous?”
“It was just so thorough that I cannot help but worry.”
That being said, she had already asked Ilyshn’ish to find out what she could. It wasn’t in a direct way: using a coin that should at least be familiar to so people in the region, hoping so incidental knowledge would appear as well. Even if sothing happened, she figured that a Frost Dragon could at least escape danger.
“I will keep the research to myself,” Clara said. “There should be plenty to work with searching for auxiliary references.”
Clara shifted closer, leaning on Ludmila’s shoulder. A quiet smile played over her lips.
“Besides,” she said, “Liane has a point: the flimsy friends that you worry about are quite difficult to injure, now.”
“Do not tell you went and did sothing crazy, too,” Ludmila glanced down at Clara with a frown.
“I might have tried a few things,” Clara’s athyst gaze shifted away. “At any rate, if there is so insidious group enforcing ignorance over the matter, they are going to have to send so rather powerful assassins our way.”
Ludmila sighed over the idea that she might be tempting fate. She wrapped her arm around Clara’s waist and snuggled in.
They spent the remaining ti to Castle Corelyn together in silence, where Ludmila disembarked in front of the gate to cross the bridge. She sped past the harvested vineyards with their dying leaves on her usual route over the mountains to Warden’s Vale. Along the way, she stopped to speak with several Krkonoše Druids, though as a whole their rather blasé outlook on life ant that they had nothing exciting to share. Life went on, and that was good. Whatever was, was.
Her visit did remind her of the tuft of Krkonoše wool in her bag, however, and she stopped at the harbourmaster’s office upon arriving in Warden’s Vale.
“Good afternoon, Lady Zahradnik,” Jeeves rose from his desk in greeting. “Is there anything I can do for you?”
“Good afternoon, Jeeves,” she replied. “Does this look like anything to you?”
Ludmila placed the tuft of wool on the counter. The diminutive Skeleton rchant picked it up and examined it through a gold-rimd monocle.
“This is…wool? I recall seeing this sowhere before…ah! The new produc–I an, this is wool from the Krkonoše Druids, yes?”
“It is,” Ludmila nodded. “Since it is wool, can anything be done with it?”
“I believe that question would be better answered by a professional who works with fabrics, my lady,” Jeeves said. “In terms of its relative value, however, it appears to be worth a great deal more than the textiles derived from the marsh plants in the vale.”
The Skeleton rchant’s raw sense of value was still a bit of a mystery to her. He could keep track of market prices for goods regularly flowing in and out of the harbour, but with new and unlisted items, he always fell back to the strangely low basic valuations he had for everything. What she did know was that these valuations were close to the liquidation values guaranteed by the Royal Treasury for a broad range of commodities.
“Is the value of this wool comparable to anything you’ve seen before?” Ludmila asked.
“Though the volu of our exports is increasing,” Jeeves answered, “I am sad to say that none of the materials we produce are as valuable as this wool. This assus that you are referring to my basic sense for the value of commodities.”
She reached into the Infinite Haversack on her right hip, withdrawing a gold trade coin.
“How about this?”
“If I were to make a rough estimate, a sack of this wool would be worth eight of these gold trade coins.”
What?
“Just to be certain,” Ludmila said, “what is the price of a sack of regular sheep wool by the sa asure?”
“Approximately five sacks for one gold trade coin, my lady.”
“ …what about this round object stuck to the wool? None of the other Krkonoše appear to have them.”
“It’s just a sticker, my lady,” Jeeves told her. “Soone must have put it there, but the writing on it is simply a ‘1’. No matter how I look at it, there does not appear to be any intrinsic value or special aning.”
“I see,” Ludmila said. “Thank you, Jeeves.”
Ludmila walked out of the harbourmaster’s office, staring down at the tuft of wool. Given how Jeeves’ basic valuations worked, Krkonoše wool was extraordinarily valuable. It was durable enough that an unenchanted steel blade could not cut it, and, by the Volkhv’s claim, not flammable. She hadn’t given it any consideration at the ti, but Krkonoše Druid ‘products’ were likely akin to materials from magical beasts. The Krkonoše Rangers, who used equipnt made from Krkonoše Druid parts, might be far better equipped than one expected of a ‘primitive’ society of Beastn.
The question now was what applications this wool might have, and whether the Krkonoše were willing to part with their…parts. As Rangers and Druids, they were very efficient with the utilisation of available resources – nothing ever went to waste. The tuft in her hand was not enough for weavers to work with, however. She could hardly shear the wool off of a Krkonoše Druid at the beginning of winter, so it was a question that would have to wait.
Upon returning to her ‘manor’, Ludmila spent the remainder of the afternoon catching up with the administrative tasks that had accumulated over the last two weeks. Liane’s sudden decision to visit the Empire ant that she would be leaving earlier than expected, but it ant little in the slow days of winter. Construction would continue, her rural tenants would be snug in their villages, and Ludmila used the opportunity to have everyone catch up with her territory’s educational standards.
Shortly after nightfall, Ludmila rose to the sound of soone approaching the front entrance. She poked her head out to see Glasir entering the hall. A Death Knight accompanied her, carrying the potted tree.
“Welco back, Glasir,” Ludmila smiled. “How was school?”
“Fine.”
“And the Druid lessons?”
“Fine.”
The Dryad’s manners were in sore need of refinent, but it was sothing that could wait until Ludmila had ti to properly dedicate to her.
“Are you getting along with Mrs Linum?”
“She doesn’t say anything – she just follows us all over the place.”
“Did you safely see her ho?”
“Yes.”
Glasir went over to the part of the hall where Ludmila was experinting with the indoor cultivation of various plants, setting down her satchel. As she knelt and rummaged through its contents, her tree was placed under a light nearby.
“How is the magic item working out for you?” Ludmila asked.
“It keeps the space around my tree nice and warm,” Glasir answered. “I like it, but…it’s strange – I know it’s winter and it’s getting colder, but even without the hoop, I don’t feel sleepy at all.”
“That should be because of the type of tree you were born from, yes? Lord Mare says that it grows regardless of the season.”
She looked down as Glasir rose with a notebook in hand, presenting it to her.
“What’s this?”
“It’s sothing called ‘howork’,” Glasir replied. “The teacher said that we should…that we should show it to our parents once in a while. But Dryads don’t have parents. You’re the Warden of this land, though.”
“…I see,” Ludmila took the notebook in hand. “In that case, let’s sit down and take a look, shall we?”
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