Last Life

I RETURNED HOME a few hours before dawn. Quickly scanning the sleeping Bertrand’s body, I sighed with relief — the old man was fine, just a bit worse for wear. A few days’ bed rest and he’d be right as rain. Now I just had to convince the stubborn old man to actually stay in bed. I’d have to hire Trixie for the whole day until he got better.

My nighttime run through the wintry town was very refreshing. I wasn’t the least bit tired. And really, how could I sleep with a sack full of loot?

Quietly, on tiptoes, I walked around our whole apartment and checked to see if all the windows and doors were sealed tight. Then, locking myself in my room, I lit a candle and placed all my stolen goods on the table carefully. I set the dagger bundle aside straight away — that would be the last thing I studied. It was shameful to admit, but I was slightly afraid of it. And no wonder. The feeling of the hunk of iron suddenly drawing energy out of me was not exactly a treat.

So, the haul from my late-night outing was five leather bags of varying sizes, several paper scrolls, and a handful of assorted jewelry.

None of the jewelry looked any different in true vision. Regular nonmagical items. I still was not going to take them to local merchants though. That would have been a very fast way to get found out. I would have to stash them away to sell off later somewhere far from Abbeville, preferably in the capital where prices were higher.

The scrolls also contained nothing of value. They were receipts from the clients who pawned all that jewelry to Paul. By the looks of things, the bookkeeper also ran a little pawn business on the side. If the numbers in the notes could be trusted, Paul valued the whole set of jewelry at approximately four hundred crowns.

The papers mainly had male names, but one of the scrolls had been signed by a woman. Max’s memory had no reaction to the handwriting or lady’s name. I of course held no particular hope but, as the saying went, “the devil plays strange tricks.”

And who in their right mind would put their real name on this kind of document? Beyond that, the emerald brooch indicated in that record was clearly different from the rest of the stuff I got out of the stash spot. It was of indisputable value. I wouldn’t have been surprised to discover she used a fake identity to remain incognito. As an aside, based on the info from the scroll, Paul Lepetit had given her several hundred silver crowns for it. That meanwhile meant the bauble all on its own might have been worth triple that.

Once finished with the jewelry, I started digging through the leather bags. In two of them, I found silver and copper coins. That filled my coffers by another two hundred crowns and change. All told, after my visit to the pharmacy, I had in hand just under seven hundred silver crowns. Add the count’s ring, jewelry from the hiding spot, and everything Beetle took off the office guards I had defeated. By local standards, it was a small fortune. For example, it would have been enough for Trixie and her husband to live on for the rest of their lives. And have a nest egg to leave their grandchildren.

Second, even if I decided to keep all the money for myself and leave Abbeville — it was not the kind of money worth going on the run for. After all, if the mysterious entity that casted my consciousness into this world could be trusted, this life was going to be my last. And that meant my top priority, no matter how cliched it may have sounded, was to live a long and preferably happy life. Most likely, six hundred crowns plus the money I got from selling the jewelry would have been enough for a person to live a normal life, but I had a different opinion on the matter. Let’s put it like this — normal life and me were not compatible.

In my past life, my various missions had taken me to places and put me in situations a regular person simply would not have been able to endure. But one thing had remained unchanged: I always came back to my comfortable abode which was equipped with the latest in technology. Thais and I had fancy cars. We travelled a lot. My sister, being a fan of art, collected paintings. I meanwhile, could afford those expenses. In other worlds, I was in no mind to change my habits in this world or this life. I would try to surround myself and those near me with every possible comfort.

Now clearly this world lagged behind mine technologically by several hundred years, but I could still find my way to a comfortable existence. Especially because my belonging to the nobility entitled me to all the blessings of this world’s civilization. As long as I had the money.

I had already made some strides in that direction. For example, I couldn’t get over the fact that Max used to have his own mansion in an elite neighborhood in the old capital, which he had so rudely been evicted from.

I understood why — his dad went against the crown and lost his head for it. But Max for some reason was not executed and was even found innocent. Still, I was one hundred percent certain his uncle would have been happier if he had been executed.

And although my lookalike had made peace with his position and given in to his uncle, I was categorically opposed to such a thing. Three hundred crowns compensation for a mansion wasn’t even funny.

Basically, I had a lot of ideas for how to improve my fortunes.

Knowing myself, I would not have been able to live without a certain level of risk. I just wasn’t that kind of person. My mysterious benefactor who sent me here understood that. Well, I was going to give them a good show. Still, I wasn’t going to go looking for trouble either.

Today’s events excepted. The duel, storming the bookie’s office, plus my second visit — all those things were practically pranks compared to what I had to do in my past life.

Beyond financial independence, I also prioritized improving my energy system and strengthening the physical shell I had inherited. Beyond that, I needed to learn as much as possible about this world’s magic. The prospects, I must note, were tempting and very promising.

Also, speaking of that... Unlike the jewelry, the three leather bags lit up like Christmas trees in true vision. Two fiery red, and one emerald green.

When I undid the drawstrings on one and looked inside, a satisfied smile blossomed on my face. It was even so much I shivered. I’d have to thank Paul Lepetit for this. The bags, each the size of a large apple, contained magic dust — the main ingredient in healing potions and perfumes. However, based on the juicy glow, the mana concentration in this pure dust was off the charts.

While staring at the stolen dust, I snorted thoughtfully. I had learned a thing or two about magic items from the Shadow recently. Putting all the fragments of various conversations about events on the frontier together into a complete picture was challenging. But nevertheless...

Like in my world, the rulers fairly quickly caught on to the fact that places of power, and in this case places where magical items could be found, had to be kept under their strict, watchful eye.

Here meanwhile, I had concluded that the network of fortresses constructed by previous kings to protect people from creatures from the Shadow had with time turned into something like stopovers — well defended bases for parties of brave warriors to gather their wits before venturing out to the frontier.

Trading the harvested bruts, hollowstones and dust, and subsequently artifacts and potions made with them was a royal monopoly in Vestonia. Anyone who wanted to heal, brew potions, or make artifacts needed a royal license, which then had to be renewed every so often.

Seemingly, Trebolt was engaged in smuggling of magic items on top of everything else. In comparison with the dust disappearing from the hiding spot, my little break in would look like child’s play.

The crime boss would now force all his underlings to move heaven and earth to find the thief. The most amusing part in all of it was the fact that I, the sole perpetrator, strangely had an ironclad alibi. In other words, even though I had caused a big fuss in the office earlier, it was nearly impossible for them to connect the disappearance of the contraband goods from the hiding spot to me. I after all was under surveillance all that time. Suspicion would most likely fall on the runaway security chief, which Beetle had so cleverly arranged for. If of course he did run away.

That naturally did not mean they would not be looking into me. Hehe... But whoever said I would give them more cause for suspicion?

The magic powder was very unlike dust in texture, more similar to a very fine sand. And there was an order of magnitude more energy in that sand than any potion based on it.

Taking a pinch of the red sand, I sapped the mana from it. My energy system immediately shuddered and started hurriedly swallowing up the generous sacrifice.

I watched as fiery red masses spread throughout my energy channels and dissolved into the micro-strains, which I now had quite a lot of. I felt my body start to gradually fill with warmth. I was instantly soaked in sweat.

The heat in my body intensified. It felt like my temples were in a vise. A haze appeared before my eyes. The mana in the little pinch I took out of the sack would not settle.

If this sand, which was essentially a byproduct, contained such a huge amount of energy, what about whole bruts? The prospect made me lose my breath!

I held on to the last and stopped drawing mana from the sand right before I became aware that I was about to lose consciousness. The sections of my energy channels that had strains were practically swelling with the healing mana. The pulsing pain in my joints and temples practically made me faint. I had to ball up my willpower into a fist and clean everything off the desk.

Stashing all my loot back in the sack, I pushed it under the bed into the farthest, darkest corner. After mechanically undressing, I got under the comforter and closed my eyes. Before shutting down for good, I realized my first order of business for tomorrow would have to be creating a better hiding spot.

* * *

I was not able to sleep for long. Early that morning, Bertrand and I were awakened by an insistent knock at the door and loud men’s voices coming from outside.

The old man first stirred to get up and open the door, but I stopped him and ordered him to stay in bed. He was still on strict bedrest.

Through the rude knocking, which was gradually growing into a thundering boom, I heard angry outbursts directed at me. Tripping over one another, whatever ugly bastards were out there were screaming that I was a coward, afraid to come out and talk like a man.

I then in my turn unhurriedly got dressed, pulled on my boots and took the loot sack out from under my bed. After the previous night’s procedures, my energy system had practically fully regenerated. I just had to lock in the changes using the emerald energy, which would also speed up my mana reservoir recharge speed. I was pretty clearly going to need it very soon. Trebolt’s backlash had seemingly already arrived.

Having learned my lesson with the red dust, I plucked out a tiny pinch of the emerald dust and drew the mana out of it. The result didn’t keep me waiting. All the processes in my energy system sped up at once. My reservoir started filling up at a breakneck speed. Too bad its size was so limited. I’d have to spend many years cultivating just to double it.

Before coming out, I tucked the two knives from the day before into my belt. I took a glance at the sword lying on the chest and breathed a sad sigh. After the energy mass I’d unleashed through it, the blade was now riddled with cracks. I should have done something else to spook the witch. I would now have to shell out for a new weapon. And here I’d started getting used to its balance. It had proved itself quite effective in the fight against the viscount. Yep, this city was like some kind of black hole for my silver.

I didn’t even glance at my leather “armor.” If the people out there were who I thought they were, the pieces of heavy leather would only get in my way.

“Renard!” a hoarse voice shouted. “Come out here, you cowardly weasel! Thought you could get away with all that?!”

I wondered what this moron meant by “all that?” And who he actually was.

Not wasting another second guessing, I slowly walked over to the window and cautiously peeked outside. Aha... Apparently, I got ahead of myself thinking it was Trebolt. Outside the front door of my annex was a small crowd of six enforcers led by Max’s former buddy, the Chevalier de Nevers. The redhead was standing not far away keeping a close eye on things. A smile of anticipation blossomed on his face.

In the distance, a crowd of Madame Richard’s guests had gathered, and, among the onlookers, I also spotted her bonnet flitting around. Jacques, looking lazy as ever, was seated on a log next to the barn watching how things would unfold. On Trixie’s little face though, I saw a look of fear. She had her hands pressed up against her chest, staring at my window with hope and periodically nodding barely noticeably toward the little alley leading to my annex’s back door.

Smart. Good girl. Even though Trixie couldn’t see me through the window, she had guessed that I could tell what was happening. She was trying to warn me of something I’d already guessed. If I now tried to run away through the back door, I would find an ambush waiting for me.

Hm... the redheaded chevalier had brought quite a lot of muscle. What made him need all these theatrics?

Going over to the back door, I placed my ear against it and closed my eyes. A few seconds later, I had counted another four men standing guard over there. All told, not counting de Nevers himself, that made ten fighters. And not one familiar face. So, Trebolt really had nothing to do with this. The redhead then must have gathered his own small army from the mercenary riffraff packing the streets of Abbeville.

That, for the record, was a good thing. No need to hold back. If any of these ugly bastards became collateral damage, the city folk would only be thanking me.

Alright, time to put an end to this little production.

Quietly unlocking the back door leading to my training area, I drew a bit of energy from my reservoir and sharply threw open the door. A moment later, I swan dived forward and somersaulted to my feet.

The mercenaries waiting there did a halfhearted job. First of all, they weren’t expecting me to be so quick. And second, they were clearly not all that worried about me. What chance did a brat like me stand against four battle-hardened warriors? I had to assume they didn’t believe the story of my feats in the bookmaker’s office.

I wanted to throw my knives at two of them but stopped short. The men were unarmed. Seemingly, the foursome was not planning to kill me. Well then, how about a little warmup before breakfast?

“You sure are quick, boy,” the one in charge clicked his tongue. The rest stared in bewilderment.

“Aren’t there too many of you bravehearts to take on little old me?” I asked calmly, shaking the snow off my clothes.

“We do what we’re paid for,” he shrugged. “Now you be a good boy and you have my word — I won’t make it hurt.”

“Unfortunately,” I sighed. “I cannot promise the same to you.”

“Too bad,” the senior mercenary sighed sadly. “The gods will see that I tried to play nice.”

I smiled.

“I see no logic in your words. You came to my house. The house of a nobleman. Your buddies have been hurling insults at me for nearly an hour. And you call that playing nice?”

The man just shrugged his shoulders in silence as if to say he’d already said everything he had to say and gave a soft snap. That was a signal to his boys, who started walking around me on both sides.

I meanwhile, smiling all the time, started stretching my wrists and neck, allowing the men to surround me.

“You have balls of steel, kid,” the senior mercenary came respectfully. “It’ll be a shame if we cripple you.”

“What is your name?” I asked.

“Jack Evans,” he replied.

Hm, alright then, just like me.

“You’re pretty far from home, Jack Evans,” I said in the language of the Foggy Isles.

That made the mercenary shudder and frown.

“I suppose I’ll go easy on you. But as for your pals — I won’t make any promises,” I said and burst forward.

First, losing consciousness, the short stocky bearded man fell onto the snow. He was hardly able to react to my sudden burst, then energy push to his solar plexus.

My second victim was the man to his right. Thin as a beanpole. Flaxen hair and fisheyes. He was already coming my way, but suddenly started to trip forward. That was because I knocked out one of his legs, then met his narrow face with my knee on the way down. Two down.

The third mercenary, narrow shouldered and not as tall, was the nimblest of the four. And the cleverest. He swan dived under my legs, trying to grab onto my pants.

With a normal person, that probably would have worked, but not with me. Gracefully stepping aside, I watched my attacker fly past and, when he tried to stand up quickly, I took him down with a right-foot kick to the back of the head.

“It’s over, Jack Evans,” I turned to my last opponent and said. My breath, even after all those somersaults, had not sped up.

He was standing motionless a few steps away from me, but I could tell he was about to throw himself on the attack at any moment. A look of surprise was stamped into his gray eyes.

“So, what de Nevers said about your attack on Lepetit’s office was true?” he rasped out, staring madly at me and the bodies of his friends. “You really did take down all Trebolt’s troops...”

“Is your visit here connected with Trebolt somehow?” I decided to seize on the opportunity.

“No,” Jack Evans shook his head. “De Nevers hired us. Said you violated the code of honor. You made a sneak attack on him after he challenged you to a duel. He has witnesses. So we are within our rights.”

I rolled my eyes and shook my head. What a little sissy. But I wasn’t going to tell Jack that it was all a misunderstanding.

“Oh well,” I shrugged. “Then do what you came here to do.”

After that, Jack Evans did something I was not even remotely expecting. Filling his lungs with air, he opened his mouth to call the others for help, but I beat him to the punch.

A few moments later, supporting Jack’s lifeless body carefully, I set it down on the snow.

“Okay, looks like I’m done here,” I muttered to myself, turning down the alley leading to the annex’s front door. “Time to move on...”