Valkyrie's Shadow - 7The Paladin of the Holy Kingdom, Part III: Act 4, Chapter 6

Chapter 6

“How were things in town, Mister Moro?”

“A mountain of gossip and speculation has risen in the wake of our arrival, Miss Baraja. As far as how things have gone since the transfer of Lloyds to the royalists, the people here have already noted a rise in prices for city goods due to increased tolls and taxes.”

“It’s a good thing that the conservatives are so good at staying on top of those things, then. What about the Corps?”

Mister Moro removed his floppy cap, revealing his head of ever-thinning hair. Neia idly wondered what he did to make his scalp so shiny.

“I’ve managed to locate seven members of the Corps – plus their families – residing in the town. They’re quite ecstatic to learn of your arrival. According to them, there are six other families here and several dozen in the surrounding villages.”

“That’s great! Erm, how have they been doing since the end of the war?”

Most members of the Sorcerer King Rescue Corps remained in their homes to begin the recovery effort after they were liberated by the Holy Kingdom’s combined forces. She hadn’t seen many of them since the battle for Lloyds months previous.

“The patterns are similar to what we’ve observed in Rimun,” Mister Moro told her, “though the scale is what one might expect of a small town. Would you like to visit them in the morning, Miss Baraja?”

“I’d like that.”

Mister Moro handed his coat to Mrs Diaz and went over to sit on the suite’s couch with a long, old man sigh. Neia smiled across the table at him, unsure how to broach the topic Saye had brought up.

“Is something the matter, Miss Baraja?”

“Ah, it’s nothing, er…”

“She needs money.”

“Saye!”

Neia cast a mortified look at the Bard, who was plucking away at her lute as if nothing at all had happened. Then, she glanced worriedly at Mister Moro.

“I-It’s not for me,” Neia said. “It’s for our work. Spreading the Sorcerer King’s wisdom, I mean. Y-You know, for the events we used to hold during the war…”

No matter how she justified it internally, she was still embarrassed to give voice to her thoughts.

“Is that so?” Mister Moro’s voice remained perfectly neutral, “What events do you have in mind?”

“Um–”

Neia let out a startled cry as a shockwave blasted her off of her seat. She rolled over the carpet several times before bumping into a table leg.

A-Assassin?!

She scrambled back to her feet, hopping about as she looked around, wide-eyed, for her attacker.

“Stop saying ‘um’,” Saye told her.

Scary!

The scariest part about Saye was that no one ever expected a pretty little girl like her to suddenly start throwing people around like that. Neia picked up her seat and cleared her throat after sitting back down.

“After meeting our members in Bast, I thought it would be good to visit the villages nearby. We’ll need provisions for that. A wagon would be nice, too.”

“Something like a rural ministry, then?”

“M-Ministry?”

“I can’t think of a more precise word for it,” Mister Moro said. “You are correct, though: we should come up with a better way to describe what we’re doing. Drawing the ire of the Temples is the last thing that we want.”

Now that she thought about it, what she suggested did indeed sound like a rural ministry. Staff from the Temples would often go around the countryside to preach and check on the condition of the villages, offering healing where it was needed. Those activities would also come with food and sometimes even amusements to bring in people from the surroundings. If the Temples saw them doing the same thing, they would surely send someone to ‘address the problem’.

“How have the Temples reacted to our people spreading the word of His Majesty’s greatness?” Neia asked.

“We haven’t held any public events, so the Temples haven’t given us any trouble. I don’t believe they can do much about us going around the villages to speak.”

“That’s probably true, but the way it feels right now, it’s as if we’re sneaking around behind the Temples’ back.”

“Does it?”

“It doesn’t?”

“Legally speaking, I don’t believe we’re doing anything wrong.”

That’s true, but…

Maybe it was just her. Her public speaking had never been a problem during the war, yet it had gotten her kicked out of the Holy Order. She had probably become wary because of that, but was there any reason to be now that she no longer officially answered to the Temples?

“Let’s see what happens,” Neia said. “We just need to make sure that no one confuses our events for religious services. How much will one trip cost?”

“That depends on what we’re doing,” Mister Moro replied. “Just visiting the villages to speak to the people would be the cost of provisioning ourselves plus whoever we bring as an escort. If we do something like the thanksgiving meals during the war, then we’ll be feeding hundreds of people every day.”

“…can we afford that?”

“No. Donations from the organisation’s members in the area would amount to a small soup kitchen, at best. Raising funds in Rimun will get us much farther.”

“Is that alright? I don’t want to impose on our people…”

“Donations are donations, Miss Baraja,” Mister Moro told her. “They are given of one’s own free will to a cause that one believes is just. Our people contribute in what way they can, believing in the Sorcerer King’s justice.”

Was that how everyone saw it? If so, she was just being stupid all along. As someone who was touched by the Sorcerer King’s greatness, she would do everything that she could to spread the word of His Majesty. Why did she think she was the only one that those feelings applied to?

“In that case,” Neia said, “we should do as much as we can. Countless people in the north are suffering under the injustices of royalist rule, including many of our members. Er, just make sure they know what their donations are for.”

“Certainly. What about volunteers?”

“Volunteers, huh…conditions on the royalist side are really terrible, so I don’t think we’ll have any shortage of volunteers from there. Who do you think would come from around Rimun?”

“If things are as you mentioned, I would limit volunteers to members of the guard unit.”

“How many members are in Rimum?”

“Perhaps a thousand? I believe most would want to put their training to use.”

The Sorcerer King Rescue Corps’ guard unit consisted of warriors who had been through extra intense training under her during the war and served as the Sorcerer King’s honour guard. If she brought them to Bast, they could move with more freedom along the border. Maybe she would even be able to speak in royalist lands without being harassed – not that what she was doing was illegal in the first place.

“It would be great if they came,” Neia nodded. “I’ll speak with the Nobles about it in the morning.”

“Then, I will head back to Rimun once the ships are ready to set sail. Please ensure that our people have accommodations when they arrive.”

“When do you think they’ll get here?”

“Hmm…Bast wasn’t ready to deal with so much cargo, so the first galleon should take another day or so to finish offloading. I would say that the volunteers will begin to arrive in a week from today, at the earliest.”

“I’ll make sure we have a place ready by then.”

Neia retired to her bedroom, intent on an early start the following morning, but she was too excited to fall asleep. She rolled around for a bit thinking of what she would do in the coming weeks, then stopped to look at Saye, who was lying down on a couch.

“There’s enough room on the bed for both of us,” Neia said.

“I know.”

“Then–”

“No. You’re a clingy sleeper. The last time, I thought you would squeeze something out of me.”

Hmph. Shizu never minded when I did that.

The following morning, she went to the manor Hall to join the Nobles for breakfast. They were engrossed in their discussion, so Neia simply slipped into her seat on the side.

“You all seem very excited,” she said.

“Ah, Miss Baraja,” Lord Aston nodded in greeting. “Good morning. We were just discussing our infrastructure issues. Where’s the lovely Miss Saye?”

“She snuck out to take a look at the markets,” Neia replied. “I heard the port was understaffed.”

“It may seem that way currently, but it was adequately staffed for the town’s usual activities. If half of Lloyds Prefecture is going to come through here, however…”

“The main issue is that it should be temporary,” another nobleman said. “Hopefully, before long, things will be back to normal and freight will go through Lloyds again, so an investment in port expansion will take a long time to pay off and maintaining the extra facilities will be a burden rather than a boon.”

“That is a problem,” Neia said. “Is there any way to make up for it?”

“Well, the most promising solution is to lease the extra berths to the Navy once the fleets are rebuilt.”

“A naval station would work even better,” Lord Lugo said.

“I’m sure the citizens would appreciate the business that it brings,” Lord Aston said, “but it doesn’t make sense this close to Lloyds. A dry dock would probably be more feasible – the cities never like it when their waterfronts are occupied by idle vessels undergoing repairs, while towns like Bast have plenty of space and would welcome the resulting revenues. We have plenty of timber nearby, so it makes little economic sense to waste time and energy shipping it elsewhere indefinitely.”

The gathered noblemen nodded in agreement. Neia wasn’t sure whether it made sense or not. She knew very little about ships and ports despite living in a markedly maritime kingdom.

“You’re all pretty forward-thinking.”

“Rather than forward-thinking,” Lord Aston said, “isn’t it just normal? If there is a problem, then there are several solutions that can be implemented. I understand that many people have some strange perceptions of the nobility, but being a Noble is a vocation much like any other.”

“More boring than any other, I say,” Lord Lugo leaned in. “We go from village to village in endless circles, doing paperwork until our brains leak out of our ears.”

“Or mediating the most inane disputes imaginable,” another scion said, “like a tenant demanding reparations for their neighbour’s Lanca snatching tufts of grass through the border fence.”

“It’s not that boring,” Lord Aston gave the other nobles a disapproving look. “Don’t mind these fellows, Miss Baraja – they’ve been sent along with you precisely because they’re ruffians who would rather be fighting brigands.”

“Or pirates,” Lord Lugo said. “In fact, I have an officer’s commission waiting for me when the fleet comes in.”

“See what I mean?” Lord Aston smirked, “Rest assured, the administration of these lands is in less itchy hands.”

Even upon their introduction, Neia had thought that Lord Lugo and the others felt different somehow. She supposed they were the type that relished their time in the Royal Army and terrorised the rank and file with their endless energy.

“I think Duke Debonei was right to send them over,” Neia said. “The royalists have been acting like thugs, so if we don’t stand firm, they’ll walk all over us. Strength is required to uphold our justice, lest injustice is forced upon us.”

“Well said, Miss Baraja!” Lord Lugo tapped his goblet on the table, “See? She gets it.”

“It’s still hard to believe that they would stoop to the tactics you described,” Lord Aston said.

“I couldn’t believe it myself,” Neia shook her head. “And while I was wrestling with that disbelief, the royalists set fire to my new home and butchered Mister Lousa and his closest subordinates.”

A grim silence fell over the table. Hopefully, Lord Lugo and the other scions responsible for security wouldn’t make the same mistake that she did.

“Speaking of strength,” Neia said. “Is there any way land can be set aside for volunteers and refugees that arrive? We’ll already see people coming from the city once they learn we need more labour for the docks, but we’ll also have people who want to help push the royalists out of their homes.”

“You say ‘push’,” Lord Aston said, “but it’s not as if we can resort to violence without legal justification. Any aggression of the sort you seem to be suggesting will instantly put us in the wrong.”

“But travel back and forth isn’t restricted, right? The royalists will definitely harass anyone they think is trying to come over to our side. They may also allow debtors to enter our lands to justify sending armsmen to collect them, which would be highly disruptive to the citizens’ everyday lives. We need to be able to defend our people…even if they are on royalist lands. To uphold justice for one group and not the other is in itself unjust.”

“I’m not very keen on sticking our noses into royalist business at this juncture,” Lord Aston said, “but we could negotiate payment schedules for debtors. It’s not as if there isn’t an abundance of work to be had.”

“Mister Lousa proposed the same thing,” Neia replied. “I was in the company sent to open negotiations with the royalists and the royalists assassinated Mister Lousa while he was still awaiting their response.”

Lord Aston’s face twisted in disgust, as did the expressions of every other scion at the table.

“If what you require is a camp to base people out of,” Lord Aston said, “shipyards all over the country have fully come to life and they are ravenous for timber. There are plenty of undeveloped clearances along the edge of the forest that only require a little bit of work to make livable.”

In addition to the Navy needing to rebuild, a good portion of the trade fleet would be putting in for repairs once it arrived. She wasn’t sure what would happen when they found out the ships that were supposed to replace those undergoing maintenance were all destroyed during the war, but it was sure to be a hectic time.

“That will be fine, Lord Aston,” Neia said. “If there’s demand for timber, would it be a good idea to encourage more labourers to come from the east?”

“Equipment is more of an issue than men,” Lord Aston replied. “We could clear the entire northern coast in short order if we had the iron for tools, but, alas…”

“Surely, attempts have been made to trade with Re-Estize…”

“It’s not as easy as just saying so,” Lord Aston said. “Trade is not some magical process where goods conveniently appear if there is a demand for them. Before the war, Re-Estize’s food situation was dire and all of their industries are still affected as a result. We couldn’t get a wagon load of iron ore if we wanted to, never mind a whole shipment.”

“Misery loves company, I suppose,” Lord Lugo muttered. “Let’s focus on matters within our power to address – such as how we should deploy our men.”

“It seems simple enough. The highway from Lloyds to Hoburns is a hundred kilometres long. The southern twenty are under the control of the royalists attached to Hoburns and they’re unlikely to give us trouble with their attention focused on the capital.”

“That’s not exactly true,” Neia said. “The houses responsible for those lands may not directly interfere with us, but they’re still a way for their allies to get to us. All of the regiments arrayed against Mister Lousa were help from elsewhere.”

“How troublesome,” Lord Aston clicked his tongue.

“If we can do it to them,” Lord Lugo said, “they can do it to us. At least it lets us divide our forces simply: one company for every twenty kilometres. Securing another line of communication to our allies in the court will be to our advantage, as well.”

The discussion ended in a rather anticlimactic drawing of lots before the assembled scions left to prepare for deployment. Neia rode to Bast to see if she could find Mister Moro. The excitement surrounding their arrival had settled down, though the docks were still busy trying to unload the galleons in port as quickly as possible.

It took her over thirty minutes of wandering around before she located Mister Moro speaking to a man and a woman in front of a Blacksmith’s workshop. She stood at a distance for a while trying to figure out who they were, but it was futile. A small area around Neia had cleared itself of townsfolk before she realised how suspicious she looked and she hurried over to join Mister Moro.

“Good morning.”

“Miss Baraja,” Mister Moro nodded. “I was just speaking with the Pérez family about our planned activities in the area.”

We have planned activities?

She wanted to do something, but she wasn’t aware that they had agreed on anything.

“I-Is that so? Was there anything you liked in particular?”

“Well,” Mister Pérez said, “we’re back to our regular lives now, so time’s a scarce commodity. The evening get-together in the square once a week feels just right.”

“It’s the most popular option among our members in Bast,” Mister Moro said. “A social event that includes dinner and testimonies from those who have experienced the fruits of following the Sorcerer King’s wisdom. Your schedule will almost certainly be packed, but we’ll also see what we can do about having you speak of His Majesty’s greatness and the importance of upholding our justice.”

“I’ll be more than happy to help if I can,” Neia nodded.

It seemed that Mister Moro hadn’t lost his touch. He had organised a mountain of functions during the war which were all received very well. Though his demeanour never displayed it outwardly, he was just as excited about what was going on as everyone else.

They left the Pérez family to their business and made their way through the town’s small industrial quarter. Most of the town’s industries were tooled for forestry and a road had even been paved to accommodate the increased loads, which made for an odd path through the town that wouldn’t make much sense normally.

“What did they say about provisioning visits to the villages and such?” Neia asked.

“The costs for rural activities are relatively low,” Mister Moro answered. “Unless the need for security is high. We won’t know for sure until we begin, but donations from our members so far should cover expenses for a small group of travellers to speak to the people for the next month or so. Functions similar to what the Temples host, however, are still far beyond our means.”

“I see. Well, we’re still in a far better place than we were yesterday.”

“Things will get better, Miss Baraja. Much can be done so long as we can provide for the daily needs of our volunteers and refugees. For example, we could finance and organise workshops where our people can follow the Sorcerer King’s wisdom and generate revenue in the process.”

“…would it be fair to do that?”

“It would be no more unfair than an apprenticeship,” Mister Moro replied. “Or perhaps it would be better compared to the operations you visited in Rimun. Rather than apprentices, one could consider them disciples that will ultimately bring home the benefits of what they learn with us.”

The proposal was undeniably attractive, in various ways. Not only did they need revenues to finance their work, but those oppressed by the royalists in the east would probably desire guidance on the path of justice. If they accomplished even half of what she saw in Rimun, funding would no longer be a problem and they might even be able to spread the word of His Majesty’s greatness beyond the borders of the Holy Kingdom.

They squeezed themselves against the buildings as a carriage rushed by on its way to the wharf. It took a moment for Neia to realise that it was the same one that had conveyed the Nobles to the manor outside of town. Curious, she followed in its path to discover a small crowd gathered at one of the piers. Lord Aston and Lord Lugo stepped out from the vehicle and a set of footmen cleared the way to the waterfront. There, a small sailboat was moored, its crew offloading cargo while a Merchant stood between two of the town militia. He came forward to address Lord Aston as the pair of noblemen approached.

“Lord Aston, this is horrible! They’re gathering soldiers in the city!”

Oh, no…

Were the royalists one step ahead of them? The conservatives had just split up their companies, as well.

Lord Aston and Lord Lugo exchanged an unreadable look before the former spoke.

“When did you first notice this and how many, Mister García?”

“Not long after I sailed into Lloyds. They’re drawing one in twenty hearths.”

“One in–wait, what?” Lord Aston furrowed his brow in confusion, “The royalists may have assumed management of half of the prefecture, but they have no right to conscript soldiers.”

“The people I spoke to said that the Nobles said that the Holy King said it,” Mister García said.

“…a royal decree?” Lord Lugo glanced to the east, “But we weren’t informed of any such thing? And for what?”

“They don’t know. All they know is they gotta go and they’re going to the Great Wall. The Nobles there have men enforcing the Holy King’s command.”

A deathly silence fell over the crowd as the spectre of a past they thought buried appeared to haunt them once again. If the Crown needed soldiers for the wall, there were few explanations as to why that might be.

But the Sorcerous Kingdom wouldn’t attack us. Does that mean the campaign for the Renclusa Valley failed and we’re facing retaliation from whoever lives there?

There had been a lot of publicity about the push to expand the country’s borders and secure critical resources. Without any information about what was going on out there, however, Neia could only guess at what was happening.

She squeezed her way to the front of the crowd. Several footmen moved to bar her approach, but Lord Aston ordered them to stand down.

“Join us,” he said.

“I will continue my work in the town, Miss Baraja,” Mister Moro said.

Neia nodded to Mister Moro before falling into step behind Lord Aston and Lord Lugo. They boarded his carriage and Lord Aston released a long sigh after the footmen shut the doors.

“I can’t say I ever expected a complication like this.”

“A ruse?” Lord Lugo suggested.

“To what end?” Lord Aston frowned.

“Masking troop movements, perhaps…”

“Even without this,” Lord Aston said, “they could muster troops in a field one day east of the city and we’d have no clue about it. I’m afraid that it may just be the truth.”

The steady drumming of Lord Lugo’s fingers on his armrest competed with the sound of the rumbling carriage.

“Shouldn’t we have heard something about it?”

“We should have,” Lord Aston said. “Except that this information would have travelled up the highway from Hoburns to Lloyds.”

“No…”

“Yes.”

“This is ridiculous!” Lord Lugo shouted, “Are you implying that the royalists are spiting us by not delivering a royal decree?”

“Quite childish,” Lord Aston said, “but it’s also a good way to get us in trouble or at least make us look slow.”

Lord Lugo’s scoff more than adequately reflected both his and Neia’s disbelief. How could anyone in their right mind play around with matters critical to national defence?

“So, one in twenty hearths…that’s a quarter million soldiers if the statistics are accurate. Assuming this decree is even true.”

“I believe that is part of the ploy,” Lord Aston said. “We’ll be delayed by about a week sending a courier back and forth from Hoburns to confirm the order, then we’ll be further delayed chasing our quota.”

“I guess I have to let my people know, as well,” Neia said. “How will this affect our plans?”

“It will affect them plenty,” Lord Aston said. “We’re effectively paralysed: our time and energy will be spent carrying out the royal decree and we don’t dare start a domestic dispute with a looming external threat. This will give the royalists ample opportunity to entrench themselves in Lloyds…the timing of this decree works so heavily in their favour that I find everything about it suspect.”

“At least the royalists won’t be able to make any moves, either,” Lord Lugo said. “We’ll be staring at one another across the border for the next little while.”

‘Next little while’ was a gross understatement. The mobilisation would probably take months to complete and they had no idea when the threat would abate. Meanwhile, over half of the north would continue to be crushed by royalist rule.

…and that was unacceptable. With or without the help of the conservatives’ vanguard, change needed to come as quickly as possible.