Last Life

LEAVING THE TOWER where Maître Jacob’s lab was located, I returned to my horses. While darkly surveying my baggage, a cheery voice shouted out to me:

“Chevalier! Based on your sour look, Maître Jacob the scoundrel has emptied your coin purse, eh?!”

I turned to face the voice. Ten paces away from me was a short man with a fire red shock of hair and untidy goatee. Cheer danced in his blue eyes while his thick lips spread into a welcoming smile. I was getting the impression this redhead was really happy to see me.

By the look of him, he was thirty or thirty-five. His gear was nothing fancy, but it was high quality. His sword had a worn grip, his thick leather boots had seen better days, and the bag on his back was fully loaded — apparently this redhead was one of the people who would be coming with me on the journey.

And my face really was sour. But not because I’d spent so much cash. It was more that, contrary to my expectations, I hadn’t bought a single thing. That didn’t stop Maître Jacob from trying to get my money though, ugly bastard. But instead of offering me magic potions, he just kept bringing out all kinds of useless junk. Like strange herbal concoctions that smelled of mouse droppings mixed with old foot bindings.

For obvious reasons, I was not able to say anything to him directly. I had to play the role of a keen observer and credulous potential client when he said an infusion that reeked of swamp water was an elixir to increase a warrior’s strength.

Basically, the alchemist and I left one another very disappointed.

He was mad he couldn’t talk me into buying all his crap, and I just couldn’t see why I was not being offered a single magic potion. Although I could definitely see that the distant shelves were packed full of curious libations. I wondered why.

I again shrugged my shoulders and asked:

“Oh!!” the redhead looked embarrassed for a second. “You’ll have to excuse my manners! I’ve gone feral in this backwater! Allow me to introduce myself... Chevalier Léonard Vidal at your service!”

Taking off a wide-brimmed hat with a long gray plume, he gave a slight bow and added with a smile:

“But you can call me Vidal. Lieutenant Tassen spoke the truth: the Shadow Patrol is no place for titles. They say it’s a tradition that dates back to Prince Albert the Brave himself... Although, to be honest, people don’t much believe that.”

I took off my tricorn and gave a bow.

“Well, who are we to go against ancient tradition? Chevalier Maximilian Renard, at your service. Or simply Renard.”

Vidal, with a big smile, walked closer to me and we sealed our acquaintance with a handshake. His hand was thin but firm and rough with the telltale callouses of a seasoned swordfighter.

Based on his look of respect, he also appreciated my firm grip. Thanks to my constant sword training, Max’s once soft and swollen hands had sprouted callouses of their own, as well as a full set of small scars.

“Pleased to make your acquaintance!” he came. “Nice to see fresh blood, so to speak, in our ranks!”

I arched my brows in surprise.

“There are other noblemen in our squadron as well. Not many, but we try to stick together.”

For the next few minutes, the garrulous Vidal told me about the squad I would be joining for my first outing as part of the Shadow Patrol.

“The whole squad consists of just forty-five people,” Vidal said. He tossed his sack down by his feet and started deftly loading a pipe with black tobacco. “The force this year, let me tell you, is from many different backgrounds and nations. Northerners, Vestonians, Astlanders, natives of the Foggy Isles — pretty much two of every beast you can find in Vestonia. Hm... And that’s the ones lucky enough to make it here without vanishing.”

Vidal said, looking pointedly at me. He was clearly trying to hint at something... Most likely, in town, rumors had already started flying about me. A young nobleman renting a big manor with enough slaves and servants to indicate he was pretty well off? But still coming to the frontier to serve in the Shadow Patrol? There must have been an air of suspicion. It was so out of the ordinary...

I just stone-faced and kept listening closely.

“We even got two steppe folk,” Vidal added. “Honestly though, they’ve been with us a while, and no one knows for sure how they ended up here. They keep a healthy distance from everyone else. But they’re the best guides and scouts in the garrison. They obey only Lieutenant Tassen. There’s also a theory that they’re outcasts in their own homeland. That they lost the favor of the chief of their tribe and were forced to flee the endless steppes of the Great Khaganate.”

I nodded. The redhead’s excessive talking and welcoming air had me suspicious. But so far, it was only talk. Why not listen? Information never hurt.

“Our squad can basically be divided into two parts,” Vidal continued and breathed out a cloud of aromatic tobacco smoke. “First there’s soldiers from the Toulon garrison. And the rest are mercenaries and recruits who came to join the Shadow Patrol to fulfill an obligation. Group two is bigger than group one and divided into even smaller factions depending on place of origin. And all the factions have their own leaders, who gradually set rules of their own. But you’ll see all this for yourself, chevalier.”

After saying that, Vidal gave a significant nod at the fortress’s inner courtyard where a crowd of armed mercenaries was starting to gather.

“Surprising,” he snorted, watching them with disgust. “But Lieutenant Tassen will somehow keep them all under his thumb. Discipline isn’t exactly ironclad, but there is a definite order. And as cynical as it may sound, I’m glad Lieutenant Brossard is down with a fever and we’ll be setting off under Tassen’s command. The sergeants and garrison soldiers respect him. Plus, he’s a local.”

I nodded. Jean Tassen was born in Toulon into a merchant family. Being the third son, he did not inherit his father’s business, and so he signed onto the Toulon garrison and there worked his way up to a silver lieutenant’s token.

Which I knew because I had also done my homework. I only had one day, but silver could work wonders. My landlord also told me a lot of things while trying various tactics to get more rent out of me.

“What about the captain?” I asked as an aside. “Does he ever go out?”

Vidal stared at me as if trying to determine whether I was mocking him. Then he snorted and said:

“It’s apparent that you are a newcomer to these parts... I believe that dunderhead de Rohan last visited the fortress four months ago.”

I snorted to myself. The captain was anything but a dunderhead. The slave trading and smuggling rings did not elude him.

Both lieutenants were also clearly in on them, as were the sergeants and soldiers. And considering the fact that, like with Abbeville’s chancery, the threads reached throughout Vestonia and beyond, that business must have wet a lot of beaks. The main beneficiaries of the cashflow were most likely found, if not directly next to the throne, then very near it.

All these people could say whatever they liked about duty to king and country. The reality was that everyone taking part in the chain was pursuing their own interest and covering for their coconspirators. It was becoming clear that, out here on the frontier, things worked by a set of... heh... shadow laws.

Technically, all lands adjacent to the Shadow were property of the king, who appointed mayors to administer the towns and cities. That was on paper. But digging deeper... The last and seemingly first mayoral appointment in Toulon had taken place all the way back at the founding of the city. All subsequent mayors then descended from him. And considering that no king since had tried to change that state of affairs, someone must have benefited from it.

Bruts and other magic ingredients were mainly gathered for the king by strykers. Only they could stand to enter the Shadow for any length of time. For that purpose, they organized veritable treks with the whole process carefully overseen by the king himself.

As for exactly how the smuggling happened, I had yet to find out, and I was eager to find myself a place in the process. That was essentially one of the reasons I had come here.

Vidal cleared his throat delicately. I must have started daydreaming. My new acquaintance took my condition in his own way.

“I see you’re anxious,” he nodded. “I understand... The day after you arrived, you got sent straight on patrol. There must have been something about you the captain didn’t like.”

Again that searching gaze. I just shrugged my shoulders, pretending not to understand.

“But I wouldn’t put anything past that dunderhead,” Vidal waved a hand. “As for the expedition... Here’s what I can tell you. When I called you fresh blood for the squad, I was not joking. I can tell that, despite your tender age, you’re used to your weapon and life on the road. Beyond that, the two of us hail from noble houses, so concepts like ‘family honor’ mean something to us. So we have to stick together on this expedition. I’m sure my brothers in arms will feel the same way. What do you say?”

Setting aside all the drama and closing my eye to his suspicious friendliness and talkativeness... it was suitable companionship to start with. I could see how things developed.

“Chevalier,” I said with a slight bow. “Thank you for the offer! It will be my honor to join you and your friends.”

“Great!” Vidal said with genuine delight. “That makes four!”

He had something else to say, but the horn sounded over the fortress to tell the patrolmen that it was time to move out.

* * *

Due to our imminent departure, my meeting with Chevalier Vidal’s friends was short but sweet. And they accepted me into the group graciously.

We got to know each other better underway. I should also note that my new acquaintances made quite good impressions on me. And although Chevalier Vidal’s importunity seemed somewhat suspicious at first, a few hours later, I realized that it was just how he was.

“May I treat you to some of the local tobacco?” asked Baron von Brunon, riding next to me. “It’s stronger than the stuff in the capital, but it really perks a fellow up.”

The baron hailed from eastern Astland and originated from a career military family which had lost all its money and lands a very long time ago. After several unsuccessful contracts, he and his friend the Baron von Holtz, just as poverty-stricken and martial in demeanor, departed for Vestonia. Once here, they were able to sign contracts and head out to the frontier.

When I first saw the hulking men, I took them for relatives. Both were broad-shouldered, and had black beards, and potato noses. Somehow, they reminded me of dwarves from the movies. Just a bit taller.

“No, thanks,” I shook my head. “I’ve tried it before... It’s not my thing.”

In Sardent, though, I purchased a good amount of tobacco, as well as hot pepper. Mixed together, they could be thrown into the face of an opponent or wild animal, which would burn the mucous membranes, disabling both sight and smell. It could also throw dogs off a scent... Basically, it had its uses.

“Well, you know best,” the baron shrugged his broad shoulders. “I can’t even imagine my life without a nice aromatic pipe after lunch or, like now, over a good conversation.”

I nodded and dug into one of my saddlebags.

“Here,” I took a small leather tobacco pouch from the pocket and extended it to von Brunon. “I happened to buy some at the market in Sardent. It’s a little gift from me to you.”

I had already given a similar pouch to Chevalier Vidal. Von Holtz meanwhile, a nonsmoker, I had given a small flask of Atalian brandy. The baron’s eyes lit up. He snatched the pouch, undid the drawstring and, closing his eyes, gave the contents a sniff. A second later, a happy smile blossomed on his black-bearded face.

“Good stuff! What can I say? You nailed it! Thank you.”

Our conversation was interrupted by a chain order from the lieutenant instructing me to present myself.

“Don’t worry about the horse,” the baron boomed. “And don’t be too shy around the commander. Don’t go too hard either. Although he’s a commoner, he is a man of respect. All I can say is go.”

Once finished, he deftly untied the reins of my second horse.

Sending him a silent nod I went around the riders and, curving around the slow-moving canvas-covered wagons, galloped over to the head of the column. The men watched me with intrigued, wry, and occasionally angry looks.

“Chevalier Renard,” Lieutenant Tassen came when I got up next to him. “Tell me straight. What brought you to this gods-forsaken place? You’re a young man of noble origin, so don’t try to tell me you couldn’t find anything better to do than play mercenary.”

The commander had apparently decided to take the problem head on.

“You do know who my father was, don’t you?” The lieutenant responded with a short nod. He had most likely gotten a report from the captain about me the day before. On top of that, he had also spoken with the men who came from Abbeville. Patrick, for instance.

“The de Gramonts are an ancient and influential family,” the lieutenant said. “That made me even more surprised to see you here.”

But that didn’t stop you from making that big scene in the fortress in front of everyone. But I get it. You’re showing me who’s in charge.

“I understand, monsieur lieutenant. So let me try to explain. You see... As you said, my family is one of the most ancient in Vestonia. And most renowned. And our glory has been earned primarily on the battlefield.”

The lieutenant gave a nod. But... with a slight wince. As if he already knew what he was going to hear. Yet another young nobleman flaunting his origin. Nothing new.

“I saw a statue of Prince Albert on the central square, the one the people called the Brave. The same man who led the first expedition into the Shadow. Is it true that Toulon was founded on a site where the prince’s warband once made camp?”

The lieutenant nodded and stared me down. I saw slight curiosity flicker in his eyes. Like any native Toulonnais, Jean Tassen was quite fervent when it came to the history and reputation of his native city.

“That statue was erected by the noble citizenry of Toulon in honor of Albert the Brave’s great deed,” the lieutenant nodded importantly. “And yes... According to legend, the prince’s warband once rested on that very spot. But there’s still one thing I don’t understand. What do you hope to achieve?”

“Here’s the thing,” I said. “I have an ancestor who made camp there with the prince, then followed him into the Shadow.”

The lieutenant shuddered and gave me a closer look. The boredom and disregard I saw in his eyes a few minutes earlier receded a tiny bit.

“So you’re saying...”

“I’m saying that I came to the frontier to pay homage to my glorious ancestor’s deed. And as he once did, to serve crown and kingdom.”

Tassen pursed his lips and said:

“Okay then, young man. That is certainly deserving of praise. But as far as I know, that is also no obstacle to you earning a pretty penny from your time here. Am I right?”

“Well,” I shrugged. “I’m only half de Gramont. The blood of the Legrands flows in my veins as well.”

“Wait!” the lieutenant lit up. “Pascal Legrand…”

“Is my mother’s father, my grandfather,” I finished for him.

The lieutenant stared at me in silence for a while, then gave a sidelong smirk.

“I say,” he came. “A pilgrimage to visit all your ancestors’ old haunts on your employer’s dime...”

“The two are hardly mutually exclusive,” I responded with another shrug.

The lieutenant snorted again. But the look in his eyes was less cold. I also got the feeling he had reached a conclusion about me.

Later, I realized I was right. A smaller party was split off from the squad with both steppe people, me and my new acquaintances, and several Vestonian mercenaries including Patrick and his buddies. Our mission was to scout out the valley up to the foothills of Gray Ridge.