Chapter 1 – A Friendly Recall – Journey towards Daybreak

“Between the peaks of the North and South Lotharin Mountains lay the plains of Lotharingie. Here the heartland of the Lotharin peoples lay bound but unbroken despite centuries of ‘Pax Arcadia’. The legions and merchants of our Holy Imperium who roam these lands are seen as little more than foreign occupiers whose blood shall be spilled in the next uprising. Three rebellions have quenched the land in red iron, yet it shall only be a matter of time until a fourth, a fifth, until the Lotharins claim independence, uncaring of the blood toll they pay in its efforts.

“Why, one might ask, must we hold onto such territory and people who abhor us? Whose pacification necessitates an endless drain upon our Imperium?”

– Livia, Drusilla Tranquillus, The Greatest Empire No Longer, written a century before the Lotharin Independence War which gave birth to the Empire of Rhin-Lotharingie

 

Reynaud took a deep breath before opening his eyes.

As a mage who had been training to be a Wayfarer since seventeen years of age, he had long learned that teleportation magic remained disorienting no matter how many times one experienced it. The sight of reality being flushed into a hole so minuscule it was imperceptible to the naked eye simply wasn’t something human apperception could comprehend. It was far better to close his eyes, empty his lungs, and hold his breath for the brief seconds it took for one to vanish from existence on one side and reappear in a distant land.

The fact he had cast a low-power Electrify spell on himself also helped. It distracted his senses with a tingly, prickly sensation across his skin — a feeling that his brain could actually comprehend. Meanwhile, his body defied the laws of conventional physics in leaping across thirty kilopaces in an instant.

Regardless, the Astral Teleport spell had been completed. Reynaud found himself standing atop a small grassy ridge on the southern slopes of the North Lotharin Mountains, which stretched from east to west for as far as the eye could see.

A steep incline ran down from the ridge into a small and winding valley no more than a thousand paces across. A narrow river barely larger than a stream had cut the ravine into the mountain slopes. Birch and ash trees in Spring bloom dotted both sides of the running water. And across the river laid the wooden buildings of a new settlement built at the river’s gentle bend.

Reynaud turned around and gazed southward from his vantage point halfway up the mountain range. The sky was partly cloudy but otherwise offered a clear and unobstructed view into the distance. Several folds of lesser peaks and rolling hills could be seen downslope from where he stood. Beyond that stretched the wooded plains of the Lotharin Heartlands, which would run for over a thousand kilopaces — far further than the eye could see — before it met the southern mountain range.

What an idyllic view.

The short young man who had just passed his twenty-fifth birthday beamed as he reached out his arms to both sides. A cool breeze blew in from the south as he closed his eyes and soaked in the sunlight. The wind lifted the hem of his white cloak and brushed across his flaming-red hair in a soothing caress. And he enjoyed it to the fullest as he playfully spun twice on his heels like a child dancing in the wind.

No wonder why she likes this place, Reynaud reopened his eyes as he considered the girl whom he had journeyed here to meet.

But… it’s still far too early for her to retire.

The young man turned his back on the magnificent view. He touched the recently erected stone obelisk which housed the teleportation beacon that his spell had locked onto. Inscribed upon it was the name of the new settlement being built:

Lithia.

Reynaud smiled to himself as he strode past the stone and began a quick descent into the ravine. His footsteps were swift but careful as the steep and winding dirt trail offered neither steps nor railings. The young man tilted his head as he made his way down the slope and onto a small stone bridge. He had anticipated hearing the sounds of people and work in progress: the chatter of construction crews erecting new buildings, the noise of fresh timber being sawed into wooden planks.

Yet, aside from the chirping of birds from the nearby woods, the entire settlement stood as quiet as the night.

Where is everyone? Reynaud pondered to himself as something didn’t feel right.

It’s almost halfway to noon on a Saturday morning. Why isn’t anyone working?

The redhead strode across the bridge and into the village. He noticed that most of the newly erected homes still had their windows and doors shut, instead of being left open to air as most rural folk did. There were only eleven homes, which meant the villagers probably numbered thirty to forty. The buildings also included a blacksmith, a cookhouse, and a modest church with an incomplete bell tower and a Trinitian Cross on top.

That was all that could fit onto the available flat land. Even the Church had to be built on an incline with its foundation dug into the slope. Yet, as Reynaud’s feet began to trek uphill once more, he also heard the quiet murmurs of people and the excited cry of a small child on the far side of the Church.

The young man made his way around the building, and sure enough, he found a dozen people gathered in a small crowd. They were mostly women and children, who congregated around a two-target archery range — a facility as necessary to any Lotharin village as a cookhouse or church.

Beyond the dozen onlookers stood a single petite girl with snowy-white long hair. Standing sideways with her pink eyes trained on the target, she raised a strange-looking metallic greatbow with asymmetric limbs above her head. Then, after a brief pause and without a single wasted motion, she lowered the bow to chest level while her arms used the downward motion to pull the silvery bowstring to its full draw.

Never seen anyone else pull a bow the way she does, Reynaud thought as he eyed how she gripped the bowstring with her thumb. There’s also the girl’s lack of muscle mass which meant she had to be using magic to pull that incredible draw weight.

Several nearby villagers noticed Reynaud as he trekked up the dirt trail. The young man raised an open hand in a friendly gesture and smiled. He might not have been wearing his hood and his blades remained hidden beneath his outerwear. But the small community would have undoubtedly felt wary towards the approach of a cloaked stranger.

Nevertheless, the onlookers seemed nervous as another party of four descended down the dirt trail that went further up the mountain. Three of the men wore brigandine and kettle helms as they flanked a rather flamboyantly dressed young man. The group’s leader wore a silver-trimmed doublet in sky-blue and had a trio of brightly dyed feathers in his cap. It did not take any guessing for Reynaud to discern that the men were a local noble and his entourage.

“Dame Kaede!”

The nobleman called out without waiting for the girl to finish shooting — an act which was downright rude in Lotharin etiquette. However, the girl’s attention never wavered from the target as she released the notched war arrow. The heavy missile soared a hundred paces before striking the tail of a shaft already lodged into the dead center of the bullseye. But rather than piercing into the wood, the newly shot arrow skimmed off and landed in the dirt behind the straw target.

“Oooh, so close yet so far. Talk about unlucky,” the young noble commented with a snide grin.

Not unlucky, Reynaud observed.

She’s trying to split her own arrows again.

Meanwhile, the petite girl who had shot the arrow closed her eyes before inhaling long and deep. She then held her breath for three seconds, before exhaling over the same interval. The nobleman called again but she was completely non-responsive. Her arm slowly lowered her asymmetric greatbow which glowed with a turquoise light as it quickly shrank, disappearing into her gloved hand.

It was as though the girl was in a trance, oblivious to everything else around her as she finished her archery practice. It was only after her bow fully vanished into the extradimensional storage of her three-fingered archery glove, when she finally reopened her eyes and turned to look uphill.

“May I help you, Milord?”

The petite girl addressed the noble in a soft, wispy voice. Her short stature and small build gave the impression of a fragile girl no older than sixteen. Her straight, snowy-white hair gleamed in the sunlight as it hung loose past her hips. She had large brilliant eyes the color of rose-quartz and dainty features that gave her an almost doll-like appearance. Meanwhile, her flawless white skin shone like fine porcelain tinted pink by the morning chill.

Yet, in stark contrast to her adolescent appearance, the girl also wore a white jacket with the straight trim of a military uniform. Underneath it was a short skirt and leggings in a style that only women in armed service donned.

“I’m Count Adrien Kenneth de Puy, Lord of Stratum Gap.”

The youthful noble declared without even a nod of courtesy. He merely raised his hand and gestured backwards in the direction of his castle estate.

In response, the snowy-haired girl looked down, grasped the sides of her skirt, and dipped down in an elegant curtsy. Then, with a smile that looked slightly forced but genuinely free of any hostility, she met the Count’s gaze and introduced herself:

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Milord. My name is Kaede Nikita Konstantinovna Suvorskaya, the new barone–”

“Yes, I know who you are, Dame Kaede,” Adrien interrupted with a scowl before she could even finish. “I hear they call you a hero of the Battle of Gwilen River.”

More like the Bloodbath of Gwilen River, Reynaud scowled as he thought of the heaps of corpses that they had to climb out of.

“–Yet, here you are, encroaching upon lands that had been passed down the de Puy family for generations, like naught but a common bandit,” the Count accused. “Lands which rightfully belong to my cousin Albert, whose noble father, and mine, gave their lives in the previous war!”

“Milord Adrien,” Kaede’s smile grew sympathetic as she replied. “Lord Albert Neacel de Puy was relieved of these lands for siding with the traitor Gabriel during the recent civil war. Her Highness, the Crown Princess, has generously allowed him to keep his main estate, in recognition of his family’s service and in exchange for his oath — that he would continue to serve in the armies of Rhin-Lotharingie in defense of the realm during this time of conflict.”

However, her steady voice and even tone only seemed to annoy Adrien further as the Count’s sardonic smile slipped into a condescending scowl. He raised two fingers into the air and made a swiping gesture to his entourage. His three soldiers raised their polearm shafts off the ground and fanned out threateningly around the petite baroness.

The atmosphere grew tense, the villagers collectively backing away from the brewing conflict. All of them except two: a woman in her forties whose long dress and stays wouldn’t look out of place behind a loom, and a man in his fifties with a hideous scar exposed just beneath his neck.

“And you think you deserve them?” Adrien raised a pointed hand as he glared down at the girl from his high ground. “You are but a commoner without a past, a Samaran strumpet and love toy of that foreign princeling!”

“How dare he…”

Reynaud barely heard the woman in front mutter. The other adult villagers looked similarly angry — one of them even reached deep into a pocket slit in her long skirt. It was said that all adult Lotharin women learned to carry a concealed dagger. However, before any of the civilians could reveal bared steel, their liege Kaede raised a hand to stop them.

Even Reynaud could also feel his temple twitch and his teeth clench in that moment. His gloved fingers were touching the handles of his dual blades before he even noticed. Yet, the girl who was the target of the gratuitous and grave insult, who stood unarmed with her flanks exposed to brandished steel, barely furrowed her eyebrows in response.

“You may call me a ‘commoner without a past’, for that is the truth,” she shrugged with her soft voice barely rising. “You may even call me a ‘Samaran strumpet’, despite the fact that anyone who knows the nature of Samarans could tell you that is an oxymoron.”

The redhead whose hands remained on his weapons blinked with astonishment. To be called a prostitute was the greatest insult for any decent girl, for it attacked their character in a manner that society most unforgivingly judged. Yet, the young baroness before him had shrugged it off as though the words barely mattered.

“However, the prince whom you speak of is my master, Landgrave Pascal of Nordkreuz, and your future Emperor Consort,” Kaede continued as her soft voice took on a serious note. “Surely, Milord, you are not insinuating that Her Highness, the ‘Cerulean Princess’ who led the charge during the climactic battle of the civil war, is so helpless that she would ennoble a mistress of her betrothed?”

Reynaud watched the youthful Count carefully as the nobleman’s slate-blue eyes narrowed with hostility. His scowl twisted into a snarl with bared teeth while his face darkened with contempt. Then, as the nobleman opened his lips to shout, Reynaud cried out in a loud voice to interrupt:

“That would be truly insulting, Milord, and a criminal offense to so blatantly slander the crown.”

At that moment, every pair of eyes assembled near the archery range pivoted towards him. The Count’s gaze almost flashed in anger as he gripped the handle of his arming sword.

“Who the devil are you?” Adrien snarled as his voice hardened into an authoritative demand. “To speak to a nobleman like we’re equals!?”

Reynaud’s hands parted from his weapons as he unbuttoned the clasp holding his outerwear closed. He removed his white cloak to reveal the gambeson he wore underneath and a short cerulean cape that reached just past his hips. The redheaded armiger stretched his neck, the unusual medal that he wore between his folded collars swaying from the motion. The black cross laying against a shattered ‘snowflake’ was an accolade that he had earned from the King of Weichsel.

“I’m Sir Reynaud Moreau, Royal Oriflamme Armiger to Her Highness, Crown Princess Sylviane Etiennette de Gaetane,” he nonchalantly introduced himself as his hands neatly folded the white cloak. “I am here to recall and escort Grand Squire Kaede to an emergency conference at the capital on Her Highness’ orders.”

The armiger watched as the Count looked taken aback. He wondered if Adrien even knew who Kaede truly was. It wasn’t exactly common knowledge that she was the new Grand Squire. And the girl was often looked down upon due to her commoner background, meek demeanor, and delicate appearance, which made others think she was easy to push around.

Meanwhile, an audible mutter came from one of Adrien’s guards to the side:

“The Winterslayer.”

The huge man who would tower over Reynaud even without the advantage of elevation lowered his polearm shaft back onto the ground. He did not take a step back like his compatriots, but all signs of aggression had vanished from his posture.

“I’m glad to see that my reputation is not unknown to even a backwater hamlet like yours, Milord.”

Reynaud smirked as he placed the folded cloak into a storage pouch that hung from his belt. Meanwhile, his left hand returned to the handle of a sheathed kukri as he flexed his fingers across it.

“Now, as Your Lordship was saying before I interrupted?” He asked in a chilled voice that almost dared the Count to hurl another insult.

“I…”

The young Count looked taken aback as he paused for a brief moment before straightening his gaze. His countenance was still filled with a disgruntled expression as he forced the words from his lips:

“I apologize for my careless words, for it was not my intention to imply any insult upon Her Highness and our future Empress,” he said before forcing himself into a slight bow.

“Well, in that case, if Dame Kaede does not object, I am willing to put this episode behind us,” Reynaud added as he pressed his right hand against his hip and stared at Adrien with a tilted grin.

“I don’t mind,” the young dame answered almost immediately as she waved a small hand.

You’re supposed to wait until he apologizes to you! Reynaud’s smiling lips twitched before he exhaled a faint sigh.

“Then I’m glad we managed to put that misunderstanding behind us,” Count Adrien remained a bit nervous as he replied. “And Sir Reynaud, Dame Kaede, as you have official business at hand to attend to, I shall bid you both farewell for today and offer my welcome at another time.”

“Good day then, Lord Adrien,” Kaede answered as she dipped a slight curtsy once more. “I hope next time we shall have a chance to talk on more friendly terms,” she added with a pleasant smile.

“Good day, Milord.”

Reynaud decided to follow the younger girl’s lead. However, as Count Adrien turned about with his soldiers in tow, the redhead armiger couldn’t resist getting one last word in:

“And Milord, the proper way to address the Grand Squire of the realm is ‘Your Excellency’. Dame Kaede might only be a baroness, but her position as one of the Six Great Officers of the Crown means her position supersedes yours.”

The Count replied with only a half-turned nod before walking away. Nevertheless, Reynaud could feel a sense of righteous victory as he noticed Adrien’s arms shaking with suppressed anger, and how the noble’s hands had clenched into fists as they parted.

 

…

 

“Good morning, Your Ladyship.”

“Good morning, Dame Kaede.”

The villagers greeted their liege with friendly smiles as Reynaud followed Kaede back to the village center from the unfinished church. Several more men had also emerged from their cabins and were washing themselves in the water barrels left outside. All of the men were in their fifties and most of them looked visibly hungover as they intermittently groaned or cradled their foreheads.

“Good morning, Giselle. Good morning, Mairi”

Kaede replied with a friendly smile as she addressed each passing resident by name. She then steered Reynaud to another dirt path that traversed uphill towards a large but incomplete wooden building nested into the steep mountainside.

“Shouldn’t they be calling you Dame Suvok… Suvorsk…” Reynaud asked as he struggled to pronounce Kaede’s foreign surname.

“Suvorskaya. And that’s exactly why they don’t address me so.” The girl chuckled in response. “Though, why do people call you Sir Reynaud and not Sir Moreau?” She looked at him with curiosity. “You were born a yeoman after all.”

“Because my father is Sir Moreau.” Reynaud shrugged. “Surnames are only used to address the first person in a household to be ennobled, even if it’s a mere chevalier title and not an inheritable rank. Sometimes it’s also used for the oldest and head-of-house. The only reason this tradition exists at all is to avoid confusion when there’s too many nobles in one family.”

After all, the average mage could expect to live a natural life of up to one-hundred-fifty years. Therefore, it was commonplace to find aristocratic families of four or even five generations.

“And speaking of rank,” he then pivoted to meet her gaze. “I’m surprised you accepted the title of Baroness. I still remember you turning down Her Highness when she first offered you a fief — which might be a first in Lotharin history.” He chuckled as even now he couldn’t help shaking his head at it.

“You said back then that you didn’t think you could fulfill your obligations as a liege. What changed?” The short armiger stopped as he looked at the Samaran girl who, in her high wedge boots, actually stood a hint taller than him.

“Do you remember the letter that the late Sir Robert left me?” Kaede’s smile grew nostalgic and mournful.

Reynaud felt a pain in his chest as he heard the name. His expression faltered as he thought of the young knight who died doing what he had failed to do, as Reynaud had been absent in that confrontation where the Princess’ entire guard had almost been wiped out.

A moment of silence passed between the two as Reynaud clenched his fist where his companion could not see. The young man then forced a stiff smile back onto his face as he met the girl’s gaze.

“Yes.” He nodded. “If memory serves, he told you about a spring with lithium salts in the water, which could be used to stabilize the Princess’ mood swings.”

“It also helps with veterans suffering from war trauma, which our country has far too many of,” Kaede added with a sour expression. “The spring that Sir Robert spoke of is actually down-mountain about three kilopaces from here, near a village settled by veterans of the last war. However, when Gerard went to investigate, he discovered that the spring was fed through an underground conduit which ran down from several hot springs over there.” She pointed in the direction of the dirt trail as it ran past the unfinished building.

“When Gerard told me about this place, I suggested that he be the one to develop it for public use,” Kaede continued. “But Her Highness told me that as much as she approved of the idea, Gerard’s contributions during the war did not warrant granting him a rank of landed nobility. However, if I was the one who asked instead…”

The petite girl raised her palms and shrugged with a wry smile.

“Her Highness played you like a fiddle.” Reynaud laughed. “I take it she recruited some families from her crown lands to help you get started?”

“All retired soldiers, every one of the men and several of the women as well.” Kaede looked back to the village with a wistful gaze. “Every veteran here bears the scars of war, seen or unseen.”

That explains the woman earlier, Reynaud thought of the one who was brave enough to reach for a dagger against fully-kitted soldiers.

“Is that why you let them all get sloshed last night and spend today lazing around?” Reynaud looked back to the village where several of the families were congregating at the tables outside the cookhouse for a late breakfast.

“No,” Kaede shook her head. “I gave them Saturdays off. It’s the weekend,” she said like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Week-end?” Reynaud’s eyebrows tilted as he looked at her quizzically.

“Work five days, take two off,” Kaede explained. “That’s how it works where I come from.”

“I’ve been to almost every country in Western Hyperion and I’ve never heard of such a thing,” Reynaud replied with a frown. “Our traditions are to take only Sundays off.”

“Well, I’ll start a new tradition then,” the girl shrugged. “Maybe once the word starts spreading it’ll catch on.”

“You’re going to make every other noble throw a fit,” Reynaud commented with a shake of his head even as he felt a smirk tugging at his lips.

A deep sense of satisfaction welled up inside him at the thought of annoying the aristocracy to grant the commons some extra privileges. However, the cheerful thought soon ended with how blatantly the Count from earlier disrespected the petite baroness standing before him.

“Which reminds me to ask, Kaede, why do you let people insult you like that back there?” The redheaded armiger scowled as he gestured towards the archery range.

“What do you propose then? That I shoot him?” Kaede answered with a jesting smile before she started leading him uphill once more.

“I don’t have any armed soldiers at hand. And even if I did, Count Adrien is the lord of one of the fortresses that guard the mountain passes to the north. He has the military muscle to out-escalate me.”

“Well, you could at least offer him a few choice words,” Reynaud responded before he wondered when was the last time he actually saw the mild mannered girl insult someone.

“Insulting him back might feel good at the moment, but it doesn’t bring any more security to my position and only creates enemies for both my subjects and my liege,” Kaede commented. “Besides, anyone who believes in the phrase ‘Samaran strumpet’ is clearly too ignorant for me to seriously consider their opinion.”

“I see Pascal’s condescending attitude did rub off on you a little.” The redhead chuckled. “In a good way, of course.”

“I certainly hope that I’ll never be as bad as he is,” Kaede feigned a look of being offended before it vanished into a smile. “And speaking of Pascal, you said something earlier about an emergency…”

“Reynaud! Fancy meeting you here,” a deep masculine voice called out from the incomplete building ahead of them. “And good mooooorrrning, Kaede,” it went on with a huge yawn.

Standing in the doorway was Sir Gerard Fournier, whose figure towered over Reynaud as the latter barely came up to his shoulders. The man wore a simple brown tunic which hardly concealed his broad shoulders and muscular chest. His hands were large, his arms brawny, and his height could compare to even the giant northern Highlanders. He wiped the ash-blue eyes beneath his black hair, before looking down with a huge toothy grin that parted his prominent nose and his chiselled chin.

“Morning, Gerard,” Reynaud reached up and patted his old friend on the shoulders. “I see you still refuse to dress to your title.”

“Her Highness made me a chevalier, not a gold merchant.” Gerard yawned again before shrugging. “I’ve got plenty of higher priority things to buy than fancy clothes, especially in this war economy where the prices keep inflating.”

“Yeah, but you could at least dress better in front of a lady,” Reynaud scowled as he looked down at Gerard’s linen hose. The garment had several old stains which simply screamed ‘peasant’. “I take it you’re here to help with the construction?”

“Inspecting the works and making plans for Her Ladyship’s new mansion,” the tall engineer beamed. “Can’t have a noblewoman keep sleeping in a boarding house like this,” he gestured to the incomplete building behind him. “The Holy Father might disapprove.”

“…Or so the aristocracy likes to tell us,” Reynaud raised his palms as he appended what Gerard was unwilling to say.

“Please don’t start again,” Kaede said, looking a bit miffed. “You two have been making fun of me ever since I accepted this title.”

“Awww, don’t let a little lowbrow humor get to you,” Reynaud wrapped one arm around Kaede’s back as he leaned into her side with a beaming grin. “We’re teasing you because we’re both glad to see you getting the recognition that you deserve!”

Yet, even as he said that, Reynaud was slowly moving his hand up Kaede’s torso.

She really is soft. It’s no wonder why the Princess calls her ‘huggable’.

“Reynaud, if you wiggle those fingers any closer to my breasts, I’m going to snap them off,” the girl glanced towards him with a warning in her pink eyes.

“Not that you have much breast to speak of,” Reynaud jabbed back before he noticed Kaede’s lips tilt. “I’m kidding!”

The redhead immediately let go and stepped back while the girl rolled her eyes. Meanwhile, Gerard gave him a look like he should know better.

“You’re lucky Kaede isn’t like most girls,” he added. “If it had been any of my sisters, you would have been smacked already.”

“If I flirted with your little sisters, I’d have to run away before you break both my arms,” Reynaud joked as he leaned back and swayed nonchalantly with his hands behind his head.

“And both legs,” Gerard added. “But I’m glad you at least know where the line is drawn.”

“He just toes it constantly.”

Kaede sighed as she sent one last annoyed look at the redhead, to which Reynaud playfully stuck out his tongue at her in reply.

 

…

 

The three former comrades took some time catching up before Reynaud and Gerard sat down at a log table around a kilopace away from the village. Their spot was situated atop a barren hill with the hot springs to one side and the river dropping into several small waterfalls on the other.

Reynaud gazed upon the flooded chasm to the north that was surrounded by stony cliffs on three sides. The water that filled the ravine was sparkling clear and occasionally emitted bubbles. Its surface had a slight sheen and deposited a faint white crust on the rocks around the water’s edge.

“Have you tried the water already?” He asked Gerard in a distant voice as he thought of their fallen comrade whose final wish led them to this place.

“Yes. It’s quite comfortable. Hot enough to be soothing, but I can stay inside for hours without feeling overwhelmed,” the tall engineer answered with a relaxed smile. “Kaede and I are still discussing which of the springs would be best collected for drinking.”

“Do you think… Sir Robert would approve of developing it like this?” Reynaud pondered aloud as he remembered the young knight with an infectious smile.

“Well, I didn’t know him as well as you and Kaede did,” Gerard mulled. “But she wants to create an affordable retreat for veterans to relax, meet each other, and find support for the unseen scars that we all bear.”

It’s such a Samaran thing to do, Reynaud felt a smile tug at his lips. To prioritize mental trauma over physical wounds.

The men shut up as they saw Kaede returning from the village with another petite girl in her late teens. The two brought food on wooden trays. It consisted of whole loaf bread soup with lentils, mushrooms, herbs, and salted pork. There was also an eighth of a wheel of cheese.

“Thank you, Marina, that’ll be all,” Kaede spoke to the maid. “I’ll come get you if I need anything else.”

“Of course, Your Ladyship,” Marina curtsied before she departed back towards the village.

“Is that…?” Reynaud stared at the girl who had brown hair tied in a single braid over her shoulders.

“My Lady’s Maid, yes,” Kaede smiled proudly.

“She looks familiar,” Reynaud added.

“She was at Alisia Academy when you two were still attending before the war started.” The Samaran girl frowned slightly, as though she’d rather not discuss this further.

“Please, help yourselves,” she then gestured with an open palm. “And sorry I don’t have anything better to offer,” she added sheepishly as she sat down.

“What’re you talking about?” Gerard joyfully remarked. “This is perfect — it’s just like what we ate back on campaign.”

“Assuming you paid coin for the herbs,” Reynaud nodded with beaming agreement.

“True, those field kitchens were stingy,” Gerard commented before examining the ingredients in the soup, which was thick enough to be considered a stew.

“Do you even grow any food here?”

“There are terraces being built further downstream,” Kaede answered as she pulled a furry waterskin from her pockets. “We’ve also got plenty of wild herbs and mushrooms thanks to the mountains. Two of my people are retired rangers who have been teaching the kids.”

“Oh good,” Gerard feigned a sign of relief. “At least I don’t have to worry about being poisoned like that one time Reynaud pretended he knew how to forage.”

“Those were mountains in Weichsel,” Reynaud protested. “It doesn’t count!”

“What were you doing hiking in the Kingdom of Weichsel?” Kaede asked in curiosity before she took a drink.

“Trying to find an edelweiss flower for Perceval to court his girl with,” Reynaud beamed. “My idea,” he proudly pointed at himself.

The petite girl nearly choked as she started coughing. She had to wipe some lavender and chamomile off her lips from that tea Reynaud often saw her drink.

“Those flowers only grow in the Dead Mountains!”

“Probably why a single bite of that mushroom made me so sick I thought I was gonna die,” Gerard shot another accusatory glare towards Reynaud. “Still, considering that Perceval and Ariadne are betrothed now, I’d say the three-day trip — only one where we had to brave that toxic, murderous mist — was well worth it.”

“Perceval really is lucky he has friends like you two,” Kaede beamed.

“Not at all.” Gerard smiled humbly as he looked down. “You forgot how much he’s done for me. Without his patronage, I’d still be a yeoman baker,” he said before looking at the redhead. “Reynaud, however…”

“True brothers are forged in adversity!” The short armiger puffed up his chest before pounding a fist into it. “Sisters too,” he then grinned at Kaede.

The Samaran girl looked taken aback before a faint blush came over her cheeks.

She’s cute when she’s embarrassed, Reynaud couldn’t help thinking.

“But to return to the food topic,” Kaede pulled the discussion back. “The soil here is poor and must be sifted first to remove rocks and break up chunks before we can grow crops. That requires a lot of work in addition to building terraces. So I doubt we’ll achieve food self-sufficiency in the first two to three years. We missed most of the planting season this year already and I doubt we’ll have anything more than a vegetable garden ready in time.”

“A lot of places failed to get a full crop planted this year.” Gerard scowled as he stirred his stew in its bread loaf. “The Empire will need to carefully manage its food supply, or there might be famines by next year.”

“Even with the partial demobilization?” Reynaud asked before eating a mouthful.

After all, the entire Wayfarer network, as well as individual Wayfarers like him, had been working overtime to help bring as many soldiers back home as possible in time for the planting season. Their Astral Teleport spells might have only ferried up to a dozen people at a time. But even that was a godsend for villages who have lost most of their able-bodied men to the war effort.

“Had Her Highness not demobilized more than half of our armies, we’d probably be starving by winter,” Gerard declared in a grave voice. “The Caliphate’s invasion late last year overran far too many grain silos in the south. The army was only able to hold together by drawing on the civilian food reserves. However, that placed a tremendous burden on food supplies across the countryside, especially after the failed harvest in the south last year.”

Reynaud frowned as he thought about the numbers that he had heard from the Princess’ meetings. More than 250,000 soldiers had been mobilized for the three fronts fighting the 3rd Tauheed Holy War — the invasion of Rhin-Lotharingie by the Cataliyan Caliphate which began five months ago. Another 100,000 were recruited to run supply trains and guard logistic hubs.

— And that didn’t even include a brief, three-month-long civil war between the Crown Princess and her traitorous uncle over the throne.

The Empire of Rhin-Lotharingie had never been particularly populous to begin with. Centuries of bloody conflicts to throw off the Imperial yoke had left most of the country sparsely populated. Mobilization for the war effort then called up most men of fighting age which left many towns and villages with a noticeable gender imbalance.

The situation was the worst in the southern Kingdom of Garona, which bordered both the Holy Imperium and the Cataliyan Caliphate. They had enacted their famous ‘Total Mobilization’ decree to call up every man between the ages of sixteen to sixty.

“Things were bad enough before the Imperium’s declaration of war.” Kaede stared at her untouched stew with a scowl before she looked at Reynaud. “Which is, of course, why you’re here.”

“Declaration?” Gerard grew alarmed as he halted the rising spoon in his hand.

“Yes.” Reynaud nodded. “The Imps formally declared war against our Empire last night. I’m here to recall Kaede for an emergency council meeting,” he said before looking at Kaede. “Though I think you probably already knew.”

“Pascal told me about it during our Farspeak call this morning.” Kaede spoke of the spell that allowed for long-distance communications. “I haven’t had a chance to tell you before now,” she said to Gerard who then exhaled a deep sigh.

“I guess it was bound to happen sooner or later, considering their role in provoking both the Caliphate’s invasion and the recent civil war,” the engineer commented.

“Yes. But it happened in the worst possible manner,” Kaede added grimly. “The Garona Liberation Army,” the girl said with sarcasm dripping in her soft voice, “struck a dozen cities and ports across the Imperium yesterday with a massive terrorist attack.”

“‘Terrorist’ is what the Imps call them,” Reynaud interjected despite his mouth being still stuffed with food. “Those people are heroes,” he insisted with a pointed spoon as his eyes hardened to meet Kaede’s gaze.

“Heroes don’t butcher civilians, women and children, in cold blood,” Kaede countered as she stared back.

“And how many women and children did the Imps butcher over the centuries of their ‘Pax Arcadia’ occupation!?” Reynaud’s voice rose sharply before he even noticed.

“This isn’t a contest about who can commit the most war crimes,” Kaede replied. “Yes, the Imperium is our enemy. They’ve invaded, occupied, and exploited Lotharins for the past eight centuries,” she said agreeably, reminding him they were on the same side. “And in standing up against the oppressor, those men certainly are freedom fighters and martyrs.”

For a moment, the redheaded armiger felt vindicated as Kaede seemed to admit the truth. However, the Samaran girl also wasn’t finished:

“But children are children regardless of who their parents are. And you cannot tell me that those who commit mass murder against the innocent and the helpless aren’t also villains and terrorists!”

Reynaud bit down on his lips as he struggled to come up with a retort that didn’t sound illogical to even himself.

After all, the Holy Imperium has been the predominant military, economic, and technological superpower in the West for more than a thousand years. For the Lotharin peoples, and especially the impoverished Garonans who lived on the rocky slopes of the South Lotharin Mountains, a direct confrontation with the Imperium spelled certain defeat. Therefore, they had been forced to rely on ambushes, raids, sabotage, and other forms of guerilla tactics — all of which were labelled as ‘terrorism’ by the Imperial propaganda machine.

“For what it’s worth, I do agree with Kaede,” Gerard said with a deep scowl of his own. “It’s one thing to sabotage Imperial Legion outposts and raid their supply convoys. But to attack population centers with indiscriminate slaughter? That’s not just wrong, it also plays straight into our opponents’ hands.”

“Which is exactly what happened,” Kaede spoke next in a fuming voice that, had the circumstances been different, Reynaud might have considered cute. “The terror attacks gave the Imperator Augustus the perfect casus belli to declare war with overwhelming popular support.

“Worse yet, the attacks took place just two days before Resurrection Day,” Kaede continued. “And the perpetrators were mostly Garonans of the Albigese Sect, whom the Trinitian Church view as heretics. This gave the Pope the ideal excuse to declare the 4th Trinitian Crusade.”

“So we’re now the target of both a Tauheed Holy War and a Trinitian Crusade!?” Gerard looked up from his bread bowl in horror. “Fuck!” He pounded the table with one fist while his other threw the wooden spoon back into the stew.

“We’ve survived worse,” Reynaud muttered even as he resisted the depressive urge to agree with Gerard. “We Lotharins will never bend knee to a foreign occupier.”

“And how many Lotharins will be left after this!?” Kaede retorted. “You were both with me when we travelled to the Kingdom of Garona back in February. Tell me — did you see any healthy men of fighting age in the villages and towns that we passed? I’ve even heard of calls to legalize polygamy among the Garonans, which might just actually pass since the Albigese don’t hold the institution of marriage in high regard to begin with.”

“Clearly, I should convert,” Reynaud commented dryly.

It made Gerard snort a little, but only drew a gaze of ire from Kaede.

“That’s not funny,” the girl remarked.

“Sorry,” Reynaud said sheepishly. “Humor is all I have at moments like these.”

Kaede’s eyes softened as she looked back down to her own soup and finally lifted a spoonful.

“I think I know what Her Highness has planned,” she said as her voice fell quiet and wispy. “She probably wants me to go to our allies to seek assistance. Desperate times call for desperate measures, and the Empire needs whatever help it can gather in this darkest hour.”

Yet even as the petite girl spoke, her expression betrayed neither enthusiasm nor the slightest confidence.

“Holy Father knows we could use another Leslie’s Blessing,” Reynaud nodded.

“When is the conference that you mentioned?” Kaede stared at the armiger before stuffing her cheeks with a wooden spoon that was clearly too large for her.

“In two days,” Reynaud answered. “Her Highness has recalled the commanders of every war front and summoned all the monarchs and heads of the major aristocratic houses.”

“So we leave tomorrow then?”

“Her Highness has asked that I bring you back today,” the redhead added with a frown.

Reynaud wasn’t exactly a fan of making a round trip in a single day. The dozens of Astral Teleport jumps it required were exhausting, especially as he would be bringing at least two passengers on the way back.

“For what?”

“Well…” The armiger trailed off into silence.

“I’m not leaving unless you tell me,” Kaede said in that soft yet firm tone which Reynaud knew as putting her foot down.

“There’s a feast and a dance scheduled for tonight, and Her Highness wants you to attend,” Reynaud admitted.

“A feast? Now?” Gerard remarked with an incredulous gaze.

“It was originally scheduled to thank the lesser nobles who supported her during the civil war,” Reynaud shrugged. “She could hardly cancel it at the last minute after many of them had already made their way to the capital.”

“Why does the Princess need me for that?” Kaede asked with a frown. “Her supporters want gratitude and accolades from her, not empty words from a nobody like me.”

“I think you’ve long graduated from being a ‘nobody’,” Reynaud pointed out. “But you’re right on the first.”

“Maybe she just wants to see you at a dance,” Gerard shrugged. “You’ve never attended one, have you?”

“I don’t even know how to dance,” Kaede replied as her eyes gazed away. Her expression seemed to steadily darken before she gave a morose sigh.

“I think she just wants to play dressup.”

The two men looked at each other. Neither quite understood what the girl meant or why she looked even more depressed from the thought.

“I can teach you if you’d like,” Reynaud offered. “Though we only have a few hours at most.”

“And Reynaud is an excellent dancer,” Gerard added. “Terrible teacher though.”

“Oh sod off!”

“Thank you, but no, I won’t be going back today,” Kaede declared as though the decision was already made.

“If I’m right and the Princess wants to send me on a diplomatic mission, it might be a while before I come back to this village,” she continued. “I need to get my affairs in order and ensure my people have everything they need in case I take months to return. I’m sure the Princess will understand when I tell her that.”

Yet, even as Kaede explained, her eyes remained downcast and refused to meet his gaze. Then, as she stood up from her seat and looked away, Reynaud couldn’t help feeling that the girl was just coming up with excuses.

“We’ll leave tomorrow,” she then added before picking up her loaf of bread stew. “And I’m not hungry enough to eat this right now. I’ll see if someone else wants it.”

She then left the table and the two men to themselves.

“Do you think…?” Gerard asked in a quiet voice as he watched Kaede march off into the distance.

“Yeah.”

She ran away.

“Knowing Kaede, she’s already made arrangements this morning after hearing the news from Pascal,” Reynaud commented.

The armiger considered the girl’s unusually keen hearing, which could hear murmurs long past the range of conventional earshot, before opting to say anyway:

“She’s ducking out because she hates crowds and gatherings, especially those full of pomp and ceremony.”

Meanwhile, Gerard exhaled a deep sigh in turn as he stared blankly at the direction Kaede went.

“You know I don’t like to second guess our illustrious Princess…” he remarked. “But is it truly a good idea to have a Grand Squire, our Empire’s foremost diplomat, be someone with social anxiety?”

 

 

Author’s History Notes

Rhin-Lotharingie – Named after the Kingdom of Lotharingia during the Frankish Carolingian era, with its lands and people caught between West Frankia (France) and East Frankia (Germany). Rhin-Lotharingie basically means Rhine (river) + Lotharingia (area). The Lotharin people are based on Celtic cultures in our history, which had dominated this region before the Romans committed their ‘Celtic Holocaust’.

Thumb Draw – Kaede’s archery is based on Japanese kyudo, which uses the thumb to pull the bowstring with two fingers to stabilize the arrow, similar to that of many Asian nomadic cultures. This is very different from the ‘Mediterranean draw’ used commonly in the West, which uses three fingers to pull the bow.

‘Pax Arcadia’ – Based on ‘Pax Romana’, a centuries-long period of ‘Roman Peace’ which marked the highwater mark of Roman Imperialism. Widely associated with the prosperity, strength, and relative peace of the Empire during its time, such periods would nevertheless feature many internal revolts and border conflicts which would be squashed by the Empire through its domineering strength.

Oriflamme – Named after the Oriflamme ‘golden flame’ battle standard traditionally used by the Kings of France, until its loss and replacement by Joan of Arc’s fleur-de-lis banner.

Six Great Officers – The Six Great Officers of the Empire of Rhin-Lotharingie is based on the Great Officers of the Crown of France, which included the position of the Grand Squire of France.

Edelweiss Flowers – An alpine flower that famously grows in rocky places at high altitudes, often on cliffs. Thus, they become the symbol of German/Austrian alpinism and are often recognized as a symbol of courage.

Albigese and Marriage – The Cathars that the Albigese are based on didn’t view marriage with high regard, as they viewed material world as sinful and sex as spiritually harmful. Reproduction itself was often frowned upon as children meant ‘trapping more souls in corrupt physical bodies’, not that Kaede would entirely grasp their theology here.