Valkyrie's Shadow-Chapter 22Before the Storm: Act 11,

Chapter 22

“Can you believe he stuck his dick in that?”

“Huh?”

“Never mind. Forget I said anythin’.”

Thick fog blanketed Re-Blumrushur as Liam watched Reed and his men prepare for their departure in the grey before dawn. Just outside of the southern gatehouse, several wagons were being loaded with supplies for their coming ‘campaign’ against House Blumrush’s forces. The supplies would be stashed away once they reached their staging ground, while the wagons would pose as a caravan to lure out enemy pickets. According to the experienced highwaymen in Reed’s gang, Knights and armsmen couldn’t resist going after what they believed were defenceless targets: something about proving their ‘superiority’ and the opportunity for spoils. It always worked because they never learned, and they never learned because they never survived.

“Let’s get out of ‘ere before the sun burns away our cover,” Reed called out.

“Please stay safe, Mister Reed!”

From the open gate, the crazy woman waved a handkerchief while wishing Reed a tearful farewell. Liam still didn’t know what her name was, and he wasn’t keen to find out. Keeping the number of crazy girls in his life at a minimum felt prudent given his experiences thus far.

“I suppose we should proceed to the next step,” Countess Beaumont said from beside him as the caravan trundled into the mist. “Commander Raul, are you certain this is the best course of action?”

“I share in Lady Beaumont’s misgivings,” Viscount Ranford said. “There is no love lost between the Guilds and the aristocratic establishment. Even if we currently share the same objective, we are still rivals for power. That is the case everywhere, as far as I know. With things as they are, they may very well turn on us after the battle is done and declare themselves a city-state in the style of those in Karnassus.”

“As much as they’d like that,” Raul replied, “it won’t be possible. I’m sure they’ll understand once you explain what’s going on.”

“More like they have no choice,” Liam said. “Well, they do, but it’s not much of one.”

“The issue at hand is whether they’ll even believe us,” Lord Ranford said. “Coin is the only thing they trust outside of their greedy little cartels, and the history of this city makes them suspicious of anything involving the nobility. Outright resentful, even.”

Liam understood the Viscount’s worries. Never mind Guild members, urbanites in general were far more independent than their rural counterparts. Often stubbornly so. They lived in a world where trust was more often than not exploited and everything was transactional in nature. Every decision was a calculation that weighed profit and loss, be it in terms of monetary or political clout. This was done out of necessity, as urban denizens didn’t have productive titles to fall back on; instead, they lived their lives by competing for the excess industrial output of a city’s constituent territories, transforming it into manufacturing and trade. Imprudence led to debt and destitution, bringing ruin to the business built up by one’s ancestors over generations.

In that sense, Guild members were very much like Nobles, yet they never seemed to come to an understanding. Both sides contributed to the problem. Urbanites saw Nobles as tyrants who used what they considered undeserved privileges and control over raw resource production to exploit the cities. Nobles and their tenants considered urbanites a collection of vagrants and unscrupulous opportunists, bereft of honour and incapable of performing an honest day’s labour. Only pure Merchants were lower – much lower – in their estimation.

As an urbanite himself, Liam was still wary of the nobility. He knew not all of them were bad, of course, but they held so much power that they could ruin almost anyone’s life on a whim.

“It’s better to inform and prepare the citizens than rely on sentiment and momentum to hold the city,” Raul said. “If their morale collapses the moment they see an army coming to the city, the battle will be lost before it even starts.”

Viscount Ranford released a resigned sigh. Countess Beaumont, however, gave a resolved nod.

“Then it must be done,” she said. “How shall we arrange our meeting?”

“The Guild’s reclaimed their headquarters,” Liam said. “Unsurprisingly, they’re using it as their main base. I can go and talk them into meeting with you.”

“Are you certain, Mister Liam?” The young noblewoman’s brow creased with worry, “If you identify yourself as one of ours, they may attack you outright.”

“I doubt it,” Liam said. “If they wanted to attack us, they’d have done so yesterday. If it comes down to it, we’ve already got a bunch of plants mixed in with them. They’ll help nudge things our way. Is the gatehouse fine?”

“I don’t see how it would hurt,” Raul said. “It’ll show we control at least one entrance to the city. Showing them a bunch of armsmen ready to fight should be convincing, as well. At any rate, the core of this negotiation will probably depend on how much goodwill you’ve generated up to now.”

“I can only pray that they understand the difference between us and our peers in the upper city,” Lord Ranford said.

Liam left Raul and the others to their discussion, making his way to the city’s main plaza. He purposely avoided a route that exposed him to potential observers on the inner wall, but, aside from that, he did nothing to conceal himself from the people around him. His surcoat drew stares as he walked past apartments and storefronts, and it wasn’t long before he spotted a boy running ahead of him to warn whoever he reported to.

Just before he entered the main plaza, a group of youths detached themselves from the buildings to either side of him. All of them had at least an improvised cudgel, and one had even procured an iron-tipped spear from somewhere.

“Your kind don’t belong here, little man.”

To his right, Steve emerged from the shadows of an alley. Several of the youths showed visible discomfort at his thug-like behaviour – well, not thug-like, as he was literally a thug – but the others were more than eager to latch onto his bravado.

“Yeah, the city’s ours now!”

“Run back to your owner, asshole!”

The collection of boys and young men closed on him. Liam raised a hand in front of him. As one, they froze at his gesture, taking up wary stances while brandishing their improvised arms.

Clearly not bandit material…

“I have a message for your leaders,” Liam said.

“Yeah? What’s that?” Steve asked.

Liam sent a meaningful look at the surrounding buildings.

“It’s not a good idea to talk here,” he said. “Your higher-ups should decide what to do after they hear me out.”

Steve fixed his gaze on one of the boys nearby and nodded. The boy scampered off into the plaza, his footsteps echoing in the air long after he disappeared into the morning fog. A long, awkward silence hung in the air as Steve’s ‘gang’ continued to surround him, shifting their weight uncomfortably as the minutes passed. Eventually, the boy returned, running breathlessly up to Steve.

“The new Guildmaster says he’ll see him,” he said.

It was an obvious outcome. Despite their violent uprising, the Guilds still defaulted to civil methods. Liam was flanked closely as he was brought across the main plaza to the Merchant Guild office on the far end. The colourful stands populating the plaza stored supplies and improvised arms rather than their usual merchandise. Groups of citizens gathered around well-stocked braziers, eating breakfast while talking amongst themselves.

Many didn’t even notice him walking by despite his conspicuous escort. Overall, they didn’t seem to show the slightest hint of wariness. More than a few seemed to be basking in their ‘success’ of the previous day, casting disparaging remarks at their not-too-distant adversaries. It wasn’t exactly an air of celebration, but the overall mood of the citizens present was blithely optimistic.

After being led unceremoniously through the front door of the Merchant Guild, Liam was made to stand behind a rope as if he were a member awaiting service. Several more minutes passed before a group of older men appeared from the office space behind the reception desk, all adorned as masters of their respective craft guilds. The sole exception was a willowy man with a matching moustache, who stepped forward as he scrutinised Liam with a critical eye.

“I was wondering when someone from House Beaumont would show up,” he said. “Since you’re cut off from your friends, have you come to surrender?”

“They’re not our friends,” Liam replied. 𝑓𝑟𝑒𝘦𝓌𝑒𝑏𝑛𝑜𝘷𝑒𝘭.𝒸𝘰𝑚

“Peers. Whatever.” The man waved a hand dismissively. “The fact of the matter stands. You and your men have been separated from your allies. Our people could take care of you at any time, but we aren’t uncivilised brutes like the nobility. If you quit the city now, I promise that we will do nothing to impede you.”

“They aren’t our allies, either,” Liam said. “The members of the Beaumont Faction have cut ties with House Blumrush. They’re our enemies as much as yours.”

The man looked over his shoulder, but his fellows looked sceptical, at best.

“If you want to know more,” Liam said, “you can hear it from Countess Beaumont herself.”

“This is a trick,” the master of the Blacksmith Guild growled.

“I agree,” the master of the Tailor Guild said. “There’s absolutely no reason a High Noble would be out in the city in these circumstances.”

“I don’t think he’s lyin’,” Steve’s voice came from behind Liam. “People saw Beaumont and some others at the south gate just before things got messy yesterday. Probably got stuck out there along with their men.”

“It could still be a trick,” the Blacksmith Guildmaster insisted.

“You’re free to debate that between yourselves if you wish,” Liam said, “but the Countess would at least like a response before House Blumrush’s army arrives.”

The guildmasters’ heads snapped up from their quiet discussion.

“What do you mean by that?” The willowy man asked sharply.

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“I meant exactly as I said,” Liam shrugged. “Lord Reginald’s called up men from House Blumrush’s holdings, and they’ve been mustering for a while now. They should arrive sometime today or tomorrow. We were going to help you fend them off, but if you want us to quit the city, we can do that too.”

“H-Hold on,” the Tailor Guild’s master said, “let’s not be hasty. We were not aware of this development.”

“At least check if it’s true before you fold like a piece of cloth,” the Blacksmith Guild’s master muttered.

“House Blumrush’s main territories lie to the east and across the river,” the willowy man turned to speak with some aides standing by to the side. “The closest ford will have them entering the city through the east gate. Check for signs of their approach.”

The aides nodded and rushed off. Steve slipped away to follow after them.

“It might take them a while to find out,” Liam noted. “That’s precious time we could be using to prepare the city’s defences.”

“Why would Countess Beaumont risk her men and resources to help us?” The willowy man asked, “If what you say is true, she could simply retreat to her lands and let House Blumrush bleed away its forces attacking the city.”

Liam wrestled down the look of disbelief that threatened to take over his expression in reaction to the man’s line of reasoning. As was probably the case with the many Merchants and various cityfolk he had encountered, the man espoused a terminally idiotic line of logic that he could only attribute to the heightened levels of individualism that urban life in Re-Estize demanded.

“Don’t you think it’s better to work together against a common enemy?” Liam asked.

The gathered guildmasters exchanged perplexed looks.

“To what end?” The master of the Jeweller’s Guild asked, “If you are willing to stand and fight here, then it must mean that you believe victory can be achieved. What do you mean to do after that? Take over the city? Do you believe we would so willingly exchange one oppressor for another?”

Is it even worth bringing these guys into the Sorcerous Kingdom?

A part of him assumed that they would be doomed the moment they tried ‘negotiating’ with the Sorcerous Kingdom for more favourable terms for themselves. Lady Albedo would probably use their self-serving insolence as an excuse to torture them to death before putting their corpses to work in a mine for the rest of eternity.

“That would be a matter to discuss with my lady,” Liam answered diplomatically. “I am not qualified to speak in her place.”

“Then what are we waiting for? Where would she like to meet us?”

“Orson! You–”

“What’s the point in delaying?” Guildmaster Orson asked, “We’ll find out if they’re lying about this army eventually. If they are, we’ll just chase them off like we did the other Nobles. Might as well hear what they have to say while we wait. We’re wasting time standing around while those bastards in the upper city are up to the gods know what.”

“Didn’t you hear what I said before?” The Blacksmith Guildmaster fumed, “It could be a trap!”

“Then what if she agrees to meet us here?” The willowy man offered, “We’ll allow her a guard or two, but nothing that can threaten us.”

The guildmasters mulled over the proposal for a minute before voicing their agreement. Just like that, Liam found himself back outside a slightly busier main plaza than before. He was unchallenged as he returned to the Beaumont Faction’s jurisdiction and rejoined Countess Beaumont in the southern gatehouse. The young noblewoman looked over him, then out a nearby arrow slit, then looked back at him again.

“Were we rejected?” She asked.

“They’re paranoid about us plotting something,” Liam answered. “I let them know about the incoming army, but they still won’t agree to speak with you unless you go to them.”

“Is it safe?”

“I doubt they’d try anything stupid,” Liam replied. “They’re confident that they have the city under control and can push us out whenever they want. In that position, they’re bound to act as the more civilised party to satisfy their egos.”

Lady Beaumont took a deep breath.

“Very well,” she nodded. “Will you accompany me, Mister Liam?”

The young noblewoman smiled warmly as Liam extended a hand to her. He brought her down to where her carriage was parked, signalling for one of her armsmen to act as its driver. From the wall above them, Viscount Ranford called down to them.

“What’s going on?” He asked.

“The guildmasters are too scared to come to us,” Liam answered, “so we’re going to them.”

“Just yourselves?”

“They’re very scared,” Liam shrugged.

Lord Ranford shook his head as he resumed his patrol. Liam joined Lady Beaumont in her carriage, drawing its curtains shut as they got underway.

“Where’s Raul?” He asked.

“He left to take a closer look at the incoming army,” the Countess answered. “He also instructed the Nobles to take a look around our part of the city and ensure that the walls are properly covered. I must say that I am not enamoured of the idea that we will soon find ourselves in battle.”

“There will probably be some fighting today,” Liam said, “but sieges are a drawn-out thing. You hear Raul earlier: once Blumrush’s army figures out they can’t just walk in, they’ll have to withdraw and prepare proper siegeworks.”

The latter part of that was highly questionable. Given Re-Estize’s recent history of warfare and, from what he had seen of House Blumrush’s forces, the likelihood that they had any expertise in siegecraft was slim to none. With that in mind, the practical thing to do was to starve the city out, which worked in Raul’s favour. Of course, they could bleed themselves dry against the walls in a fit of offended arrogance, but it wasn’t something to reasonably hope for.

In addition to the people drawn by the arrival of a Noble’s carriage, a more formal delegation awaited their arrival at the Merchant Guild, with several more of the city’s Guildmasters added to the mix. They bowed – slightly – as Countess Beaumont disembarked and came to stand before them.

“Countess Beaumont,” the willowy man said, “a good morning to you. I am Kyle Rundale, acting as the interim master of the Merchant’s Guild.”

“Good morning, Master Rundale,” Lady Beaumont said. “Given the gravity of our impending discussion, might I recommend we proceed to a more private venue?”

“Of course. This way, please, my lady.”

With a broad sweep of his arm, Guildmaster Rundale gestured for the Countess to ascend the steps and into the doors of the guild, away from the crowd of curious onlookers. Once inside, they were led past the reception to a well-furnished meeting room.

“You will have to forgive us for the lack of proper hospitality,” Guildmaster Rundale said. “Our provisions are limited, and if what your footman claims is true, they will be all the more scarce in the days to come.”

They took their seats around the table, though no special arrangement was made for Countess Beaumont as they might have normally done before. Liam opted to remain standing, his eyes carefully scanning the room as he took his place behind the young noblewoman’s shoulder.

“We’ll get straight to the point, Lady Beaumont,” Guildmaster Rundale said. “What do you expect to gain from this proposed collaboration?”

Lady Beaumont’s head turned as she met the eyes of each guildmaster present. Several seconds passed before she rendered her reply.

“I believe your attempt at negotiation is based on an ill-construed premise,” she said.

Around the table, the guildmasters visibly tensed. Guildmaster Rundale raised a hand to calm them.

“Would you be so kind as to provide us with an explanation as to why that is?” He asked.

“I have no doubt you’re aware of the rumours,” Lady Beaumont answered. “The very same one that came with Marquis Blumrush’s representative from the capital; the one that the March’s Mercenary companies abandoned the city over.”

“You mean the claim that Re-Estize will soon be at war with the Sorcerous Kingdom?”

“The very same,” the Countess said.

“They’re merely rumours,” the master of the Blacksmith Guild said. “Not the first ones, mind you. Ever since E-Rantel was sacrificed to the Sorcerer King, whispers that the Undead would soon sweep the land were heard daily.”

“What we’ve heard about the poor souls left to the predations of the Undead is certainly heart-wrenching,” another guildmaster said, “but, as my friend says, there is no sign that that kingdom of darkness has made any moves to further encroach upon Human lands.”

“That was because the Sorcerous Kingdom had not been provoked,” Lady Beaumont said. “Until recently. Last month, a caravan flying the banner of the Sorcerous Kingdom was raided within Re-Estize’s borders. To make matters worse, the raid was conducted by several direct vassals of the King. An emissary from the Sorcerous Kingdom arrived at the capital to demand recompense. King Rampossa, of course, elected to defend his vassals, as is stipulated in their liege-vassal contract.”

The looks of smug superiority melted off the guildmasters’ faces. Only Guildmaster Rundale retained the presence of mind to voice a coherent thought.

“So there will be a war to force Re-Estize to pay reparations. Where will it be held? The Katze Plains is clearly unavailable…”

“Once again, you misunderstand,” the Countess said. “The Sorcerous Kingdom means to end the Kingdom of Re-Estize in its entirety.”

The room exploded into a cacophony of panicked shouts. Half of the guildmasters present immediately shot to their feet.

“This is insane!”

“Is there no end to their evil?”

“Those arrogant Nobles have doomed us all!”

“The other countries will not stand for this!”

Lady Beaumont remained seated, calmly watching the roomful of grown men devolve into hysterics. It was strange how they were so sceptical of her intentions before, yet now they were taking her word at face value. Eventually, the energy of the room dithered into a chorus of breathless wheezing. Guildmaster Randale looked across the table at the Countess, his face turned ashen grey.

“Then Lord Reginald’s army–”

“Damn the army!” The Blacksmith Guildmaster said, “This city–no, this whole kingdom is doomed! The only choice we have is to flee before our souls are devoured by the Undead.”

“I am afraid that is not an option,” the Countess said. “The Sorcerous Kingdom sent its emissary nearly a month ago, giving Re-Estize a month to prepare for war. Even by ship, you will not reach the sea before the Sorcerous Kingdom’s forces sweep over the land.”

One of the guildmasters collapsed into his seat, a low moan of despair escaping from his lips. The master of the Blacksmith Guild clenched his meaty fist as he leaned forward on the table, cold sweat beading on his brow.

“Is that it then?” He said, “You’re here to gloat over us before we all meet our doom?”

“On the contrary,” the young noblewoman smiled slightly, “I have come with an offer of mercy.”

“I don’t need any help drowning myself in the river, thank you very much.”

“If you are willing to go to such extremes,” Lady Beaumont said, “then you will be pleased to hear that another option is available to you.”

The guildmasters frowned in confusion. Several looked to one another in silence, shaking their heads unknowingly until realisation dawned on Guildmaster Rundale’s face.

“So those rumours from last summer were true,” he said.

“You are well informed,” Countess Beaumont said.

Guildmaster Rundale harumphed and crossed his skinny arms.

“Whose members do you think the Eight Fingers threatened into providing goods and services for those clandestine gatherings of yours?”

“Then that saves me the trouble of explaining things to you,” the Countess said.

“What’s she talking about?” The Blacksmith guildmaster asked.

“I suppose only certain members were involved,” Guildmaster Rundale answered. “In short, Countess Beaumont and her allies have been collaborating with the Sorcerous Kingdom for the better part of a year.”

“What! What sane–”

“The choice is a simple one,” Lady Beaumont said. “Live to see the end of House Blumrush’s reign, or perish under the onslaught of the Sorcerous Kingdom’s armies.”

“But what happens after that?”

The question from the master of the Tailor’s Guild erased what signs of cautious hope his colleagues dared to display. In their place came the shrewd, calculating looks from before. Liam turned his gaze from the table, unable to mask his irritation. He supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised at this point. Still, as someone who had experienced the transition from Re-Estize’s society, he thought he might be able to reassure those worried for their futures. This wasn’t the sort of worry he could help with. Not that he cared to.

“I believe it would be prudent to consult with the guildmasters in E-Rantel for those particular details,” Lady Beaumont said. “Your present concern is convincing your members and their associates to cooperate. Are you capable of doing so?”

Guildmaster Rundale drew himself up indignantly.

“Of course!” He huffed, “What concerns us more is whether you’ll hold up your end of the bargain.”

“I didn’t come here to bargain, Guildmaster Rundale,” the Countess replied. “I merely came to present you with your options. Now that you are aware of them, your actions henceforth will determine your fate.”