Valkyrie's Shadow

Birthright: Act 5, Chapter 23

Chapter 23

In the shadows of the Royal Court, a dozen figures seated themselves silently behind the long desks lining the walls of the chamber. Below the raised dais, upon which the throne of the Sorcerer King loomed over the proceedings, the Prime Minister of the Sorcerous Kingdom, Lady Albedo, patiently waited for the members of the court to settle themselves.

Or was she the Guardian Overseer? With her ever-present smile, Vilette Jezne could never tell in what function Lady Albedo served until she actually spoke. It had taken her weeks to even gain a sense as to which she was – something her tenuous understanding of the workings of the Sorcerous Kingdom’s inner circle gave the barest amount of confidence to make conjectures with. Lady Albedo was always both, yet always one or the other at the same time: an unfathomable being who lay beyond her comprehension even as a venerable member of the nobility with all of its intricacies. The maids in the chamber, who also hailed from the mysterious place of their origin, seemingly had no such issues: lending to the sense that there was some unbridgeable gap that would lay between them and the nobility for the indeterminable future.

She had accepted her appointment as an Advisor to the Royal Court readily enough, but quickly came to the realization that she was nowhere near ready for that appointment despite all of her decades of court experience. In effect, it was a foreign court planted directly in the heart of Human lands, yet this description fell woefully short in describing what it actually was. The semblance of the courts of Re-Estize was but a mere show put on for the benefit of their lessers.

The beings who styled themselves as ministers and councillors were pillars of power, intellect and charisma beyond the reckoning of mere mortals. Even the Legendary paragon of Humanity, the Dark Warrior Momon, could only stand roughly as one of their peers – a single man amongst many. In this Royal Villa, constructed by Human hands, was a place far above Humanity: as far from the outside world as the earth was from the stars above.

Rather than an Advisor, she felt more of a translator: one that constantly struggled to understand even half of what was being said in her effort to convey their missives to the House of Lords. Vilette thought that she could simply abridge everything into an acceptable form when she had first started, but it was not long before she was compelled to fearfully interrupt the proceedings to ask about words and concepts in the fluid discourse of the court lest every pretense unravel to expose her incompetence. Every time she did so, she still felt her own inadequacy being made plain before the other members of the Royal Court; that she was wasting the time of those who existed in a place so far beyond herself.

Her pen scrawled endlessly over paper, interrupted only when she needed to reference something in the piles of notes that accompanied her task. A name in their discussion broke her concentration: a name that she dreaded to hear in this most high of halls.

“On the subject of Fassett County,” the smooth voice of a man to her right spoke. “This solution is quite elegant in both its implications and severity, don’t you agree? Though I believe improvements are entirely possible with the benefit of review, these agents approached the issue and produced an efficient outcome within three days. Given it was Humans that did this, I would say it is optimal within the context of their capabilities.”

The speaker was a man in a red suit with orange pinstripes: a fashion which she believed from the far south. No one would erroneously mistake him for a Human, however. The long spiked tail, pointed ears and crystalline eyes that glimmered behind his spectacles would immediately dissuade any of this notion.

“Indeed, if I may be so bold to say so, the loss of the previous reigning nobility of this duchy at Katze Plains has allowed for some remarkable individuals to rise in their place. Every action of our Master has endless nuances: even when he prunes away seemingly insignificant twigs along the way to his greater goals, new growth flourishes in his passing. The vast majority of those that have inherited their titles are young and pliable, ready to heed the will of our Master, and among them several have significant potential…at least when measured against their contemporaries in the surrounding nations.”

The man – Lord Demiurge – ran his gaze over the assembled courtiers. When his eyes met Vilette’s own, he flashed a broad smile, and she shuddered. Evil was an inadequate description for this councillor. In his words and perception, he could only be described as a Devil – in fact, she had recently discovered that he was precisely that. He made rare appearances, as it seemed that his duties called him to far-off lands, but the demise of House Fassett and it’s attendant outcomes qualified as notable enough for him to attend.

She looked down at the report containing the final days of the noble house which had existed for nearly as long as Re-Estize itself. It was over four hundred pages long; so thoroughly detailed and condemning that she could not fathom how the information for such a document could be collected in a mere three days. Not only was it a collection of evidence, it was also a thorough analysis containing recommendations for remedial actions should they be required in the future. Inside the cover were four names: Corelyn, Gagnier, Wagner and Zahradnik.

Yet, it was not the meticulously collected information, nor the thoughtful insights and avenues of remediation offered that arrested the hearts and minds of those who perused its contents. It was the decisive verdict and execution of justice levied on the subjects in question. The House of Lords had sent this group of young noblewomen – a group who all agreed would deliver their missive in the most fair and diplomatic manner – and the result was the annihilation of House Fassett. Save for a single barony in the north, every noble vassal of House Fassett had been extinguished and the county itself reduced to a population of zero.

The three noblewomen who held territories near to the city were in attendance, seated along the same bench as herself. They had all attended the court at one point or another in the past few weeks, so whatever thoughts they had in regard to Lord Demiurge’s callous words were not reflected in their bearing. Vilette shook her head. Maybe she was just getting too old: the young were far more adaptable than one such as herself, who was set in their former ways. That they could bring the Devil himself to their side was inconceivable. Not only had they emerged unscathed from what the House of Lords thought was an impossible task: they had come away with the approval of the Royal Court.

Well, mostly. The outcome itself had been received with loose approval across the spectrum, but the reactions amongst the councillors came in various degrees. With Lord Demiurge on their side, however, any adversarial reaction would have been perceived as foolishness, as he was seen as a pillar of intellect within the court. Given the overall disposition of the group, it surely must have been a favourable coincidence rather than a purposeful calculation. She could not imagine such benevolent young women courting the favour of pure evil – he must have some sort of hidden catch.

“Would execution not have been a preferable sentence for rebels?” A stern, cold voice came from one of the benches on the right, “This fate…beyond pitiful.”

“Indeed, my friend, this exi–” Lord Demiurge coughed several times and took a moment to clear his throat, “this fate is certainly as you say. It is, however, a clear message to all: we will not suffer such heedless miscreants in our blessed nation – that the flaunting of technicalities and the obscurement of intent and action will avail them nothing. Not only have the useless been granted purpose, but they themselves carry with them the poison that made them so. Re-Estize will welcome them with open arms in their desire for manpower, even as their own nation is wracked with this very same affliction. It is a small amount, compared to what they already suffer from, but every additional drop pushes them closer to the brink.”

The Devil turned to address the three noblewomen sitting beside Vilette along the same desk.

“This verdict has many layers and several of its aspects are quite insidious,” he said. “Tell me: did you devise this scheme as a group, or is this the work of an individual? The particular detailing of the processes which went into rendering this decision are conspicuously absent in the report.”

Countess Corelyn rose from the cushioned bench, the rich gown in the customary colours of House Corelyn rustled lightly as she rose; it’s intricate silver embroidery and her tasteful adornment of jeweled filigree glimmered in the harsh glare of the light overhead.

“While we all participated in the collection and analysis of information, Lord Demiurge,” she responded in her gentle tones, “the schedule of our plans was…abruptly accelerated, which resulted in the shortfall that you noted.”

“Ah, I know that feeling all too well…” Lord Demiurge smiled ruefully, “Then you mean to say that this outcome was achieved without the full measure of your collective capabilities brought to bear?”

“We did not have the leisure to refine our moves to any great degree, no,” Countess Corelyn replied. “In the end, Lady Zahradnik – who was tasked with finishing our work after we were instructed to depart by Lady Shalltear – used the picture we had developed up to that point to derive this verdict.”

“Hmm…yes,” Lord Demiurge said. “This name has come to my attention several times recently. Where is Lady Zahradnik now? I can only assume that, since her name appears alongside yours, it is not your intent to exclude her from your efforts.”

“Yes, Lord Demiurge. She arrived in E-Rantel to reports of Demihumans encroaching on her demesne, and departed on the next available vessel to see to its defence.”

“I have had some experience with Demihumans myself recently,” Demiurge replied with a tight smile, “so I know just how troublesome they can be. If this is the case, perhaps I could have you answer on her behalf, since Shalltear is not present either. Do you know her well, Lady Corelyn?”

“I have known her for as long as I can remember – House Corelyn and House Zahradnik have always maintained favourable ties.”

“You would consider her a friend, then?”

“She is like a sister to me.”

“Well then, I suppose you would indeed be the best person to ask, in lieu of her absence.”

Lord Demiurge stepped out from behind his desk, making his way along the table in the centre of the room to stand before Countess Corelyn.

“This move,” he said as the sound of his crisp steps faded from the chamber, “this…verdict: are you aware of the meanings behind it?”

“I believe so, Lord Demiurge.”

“And you fully support Lady Zahradnik in her stance?”

“I do, Lord Demiurge.”

“Is that so…well, there is one nuance that I find particularly disquieting: the punishment itself makes the blood run cold, especially to those who stand close to His Majesty. A declaration to all; a threat, a promise: it is as if she means to say that all would be subject to this judgement: even we of the Royal Court.”

The air in the chamber seemed to dive to freezing temperatures; Vilette felt goosebumps rise painfully over her skin. The gleaming light overhead did little to stave away the sense of oppressive darkness that hemmed her in on all sides: a sinister void which sapped away the strength in her body and cast her will to the wind. It took everything she had to avoid curling up into a quivering ball of helpless fear.

Lord Demiurge loomed before them, his icy gaze fixed in their direction; the features of his face fixed into a scowl.

“Tell me, Lady Corelyn,” Demiurge said coldly, “does she truly mean such a thing?”

It was only then that Vilette thought to look to her side. In the crushing sense of darkness that filled the room, amidst the freezing oppression and despair that would have made brave warriors wail and devout priests weep, Lady Corelyn stood tall in the light. Her form did not waver in weakness, nor did her arms tremble in terror. There was a smile on her face, but it was not the mask that nobles often wore to conceal their reactions, nor was it a facade of foolish bravado. Her small, quiet smile was filled with warmth and genuine confidence. She faced Lord Demiurge directly when she responded; her gentle voice filled with equal parts fondness and pride.

“Of course she does,” she answered. “She is relentless in her duty; she does not cower from her fear. She is even-handed in judgement and her austerity applies to all. If ever she were to be abandoned and left alone, she would still rise resolutely to fulfil her obligations. Her nature may often place her in the most ridiculous of circumstances, but even failure will only delay the inevitable. She is the most steadfast person I know: born and raised to be a defender of the realm – an implacable adversary to all those who would become its enemies…and I truly pity whoever ends up as her quarry.”

“I see,” Lord Demiurge said. “And what of you and your companions here, hm?”

“We are Nobles of the Sorcerous Kingdom,” Countess Corelyn lowered her head respectfully past Lord Demiurge, towards the empty throne beyond. “Where His Majesty leads, so too shall we follow.”

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