Last Life

“MONSIEUR, YOUR HERBAL DECOCTION,” Bertrand came, setting a teacup on a saucer next to a small teapot on the table.

“Thank you,” I nodded, looking thoughtfully out the window at what was happening in my manor’s courtyard.

Jacques the veteran was doggedly sticking to plan, drilling the basics of what locals called “mortal combat” into my five serfs. The last few days had been particularly hard on Kevin. Jacques and Bertrand had started working him with fervent, relentless enthusiasm.

After physical training with the veteran, Kevin was handed off to my valet despite barely being able to stand. There, he was given a crash course on the finer points of society life. The old man was also giving me a hard time, but it wasn’t so bad. All the dances, intricate bows, posture and other details came back to me from Max’s muscle memory. The count’s father had spent generously on teachers. Since early childhood, my predecessor had been taking on all that knowledge, so all I had to do was obey this body. Based on how delighted Bertrand was to see my memory “come back,” I must have been doing a decent job.

After training, the rest of my serfs eagerly went to work under Jacques’ supervision. Before the rainy season, they managed to repair and clean up all the outbuildings, which were now host to lots of clucking, bleating, and quacking. It was incredibly loud in the mornings. However, now we had our own milk, meat, and eggs.

After I came back, Bertrand approached me with the idea to hire a cook and laundrywoman. He explained that it was unbecoming of a nobleman like me to eat like a commoner. And though I had my objections because Bertrand’s fare, despite its simplicity, was to all of our liking, I had no argument against the fact that it could not be fed to other nobles, who would now be visiting me often for lunches and dinners.

After that dressing down, I didn’t dare object to the laundrywoman, but Bertrand implacably gave a short speech saying that a noble’s residence simply could not be up to standard without a woman’s professional touch. I would be getting visits from both men and women, so my manor had to be impeccable.

Hm... Well, not my manor quite yet... Monsieur Mollet had yet to give me a response. It had been five days since I returned, and all that time our landlord had been in bed with a fever. Well, officially. In fact, according to his servants, Mollet was simply waiting for the storm to pass.

After finding himself involuntary witness to my conflict with Captain de Rohan, he was trapped between a rock and a hard place. Suspecting that this could not possibly end well for him, he chose what he believed to be the only proper decision — “to fall severely ill.”

The baronet’s refusal to duel me in such an undignified fashion had outraged all the nobles in Toulon. Louis de Rohan thought he could use his position to smooth things over. In fact, he had done so several times before. But this was different. The stuffy baronet had pressed on too many locals’ pain points.

But for him, all seemed well. He was captain of Westerly Fort, with influential backers. His opponent meanwhile was a bastard and son of a man executed for betraying the crown. But there was one very important factor he did not consider, and never could have — that bastard’s body was now inhabited by the mind of a man from a world where the art of inflaming scandals and the speed of information had reached a whole other level. And that man from another world was frantically putting his plan into action.

After the captain failed to appear at the duelyard, where I waited for several hours with a few other nobles, we all loudly proceeded to Toulon’s fanciest restaurant, the Alabaster House, where we spent the whole evening draining its wine cellar on my dime. After that, the nobles who took part in the grand bender collectively concluded that Louis de Rohan was a vile coward and liar, unworthy of serving as captain of Westerly Fort.

The same thought was echoed and unanimously supported the next day in the Lame Bull tavern where I treated all the Shadow Patrol troops to drinks as promised, as well as the city guardsmen.

The nobles’ “verdict” became a rallying cry and, like ripples in clear water, spread throughout Toulon in a matter of days. And, in a logical progression, what was first said at the Alabaster House, then repeated at the Lame Bull, eventually reached Marquise Carl de Crépon, Toulon’s mayor.

The marquise was a wise man with a finely tuned sense for societal opinion which it should be noted this time was abnormally unanimous. And so, he summoned the captain and gave him an in-depth talk, after which Louis de Rohan suddenly decided to pack his things and leave Toulon, supposedly to settle some very important issues with his father’s estate, leaving command of the Shadow Patrol to Lieutenant Tassen. I suspected the mayor would then use his influence at court to make sure Louis de Rohan would never return to Toulon. I wouldn’t be surprised to find out that the marquise had already sent several letters to the capital with detailed descriptions of what happened.

Heh... I was quite sure he had... Societal opinion was undoubtedly an important factor, but the biggest reason was control over Westerly Fort. Whoever controlled the Shadow Patrol controlled the main contraband trade routes as well.

“Oh well,” I whispered to myself thoughtfully. “The first steps have been taken...”

It was a shame I couldn’t have an in-depth conversation with Louis de Rohan like I’d once done with the Viscount de Tosny. But doing that would mean I couldn’t afford to let him keep his life. And that was a headache I wanted to avoid. The captain’s death would be sure to alert his masters. Their underling stupidly falling for a set-up in this foolish duel was one matter. But finding him dead right after leaving Toulon would be another. He could keep his life for now. I meanwhile would have plenty of time to catch up with him. Furthermore, I already had a vague notion of who was behind Louis de Rohan. I just had to make very sure I was right.

“Monsieur,” Bertrand’s voice behind me made me surface from my thoughts.

“Yes?”

“You instructed me to remind you when the clock reached quarter to twelve.”

My communication with Bertrand had shifted even one-on-one, which was also part of my training. I was preparing to visit my father’s home, which was currently occupied by the family of my “dearest” uncle. Bertrand announced that, in memory of my father, I was obliged not to embarrass myself in front of my relatives. So for the time being, I could not call him “old fellow,” or “my friend.” Only strict courtesy and restrained politeness.

“Yes, thank you,” I nodded. “Is the horse ready?”

“Yes, monsieur.”

“Excellent,” I smiled.

Today, I had lunch at the Plump Miller tavern with Barons von Holtz and von Brunon, Chevalier Vidal and the interim captain of Westerly Fort, Lieutenant Tassen. There I would enact the next phase of my plan.

* * *

“Gentlemen!” Baron von Brunon boomed. “I say we drink to the new captain of Westerly Fort, Jean Tassen! A wise and worthy commander!”

“Hurrah, gentlemen!” Vidal exclaimed.

“Hurrah!!!” we all joined in.

“Gentlemen...” Lieutenant Tassen tried to object again, now slightly blushing. “I am not captain yet...”

“Jean!” von Holtz interrupted. “I have been serving under your leadership for many years, much like many of the others here!”

The baron raised his voice and pointed around at the Shadow Patrol troops packing the tavern. They were all seated at their own tables, but every time we toasted to the lieutenant’s health, they all joined.

“Everyone has known for a long time,” von Holtz continued, slightly slurring his words. “Who the real captain of Westerly Fort was for all these years. The coward de Rohan was commander only on paper. I’m certain the wise mayor will do everything in his power to make sure the captain token gets passed to you. And may I be eaten by Shadow demons here and now if I am wrong!”

The roar of approval from dozens of scratchy throats immediately informed me that von Holtz would not be getting eaten by Shadow demons tonight. Tassen tried to remain modest and dignified, but his face made it clear that he was really enjoying all the praise. As a matter of fact, as younger son of a merchant, who had earned everything in life for himself, this was a moment of triumph.

After we were all drunk and full, Chevalier Vidal launched into a speech we’d drawn up at my manor about the second lieutenant.

“And how did the valiant Lieutenant Brossard take the news of your appointment?” Vidal asked with slight malice and an imperceptible wink to me.

“I must admit, gentlemen, that I do not know,” Tassen replied with a smirk. “We haven’t seen each other yet. One day before my appointment, Brossard petitioned the mayor for retirement and, when it was approved this morning, left Toulon. Together with Captain de Rohan.”

“Ah...” Vidal gave an exaggerated sigh. “The poor sap still hasn’t recovered from nearly falling into the sewage pit.”

“So, Westerly Fort is now down two lieutenants?” von Brunon asked.

“Yes...” Tassen nodded and gave a conspiratorial smile. “That was exactly what I wanted to talk to you about.”

Doing our very best to feign incomprehension, we traded glances.

“As you’ve ascertained, Monsieur Baron,” Tassen continued with a significant glance at us. “I need two assistants. As interim captain, I am entitled to petition the mayor to promote whoever I deem worthy to the post of lieutenant.”

“You’re in luck, Monsieur Tassen!” Chevalier Vidal picked up the baton. “Right now, a man sits among us who is worthy of the lieutenant’s token. He is an experienced warrior and good commander with lots of battle experience. He has the respect of his fellow soldiers and commanders. The man I am speaking of is Baron von Holtz!”

All of us started pounding our mugs on the table and stomping our feet.

“Chevalier!” Tassen exclaimed with joy. “It’s like you can read my mind! I’d be hard pressed to find a lieutenant better than Baron von Holtz! But it remains to be seen whether he will agree to take on such responsibility.”

I snorted to myself. Oh, he would agree. After the eloquent description I gave of the future prospects for whoever we were able to get into a position of power in the fortress, anyone would have.

“I would be honored, gentlemen!” von Holtz squeezed out modestly, and we again started stomping and clinking glasses.

When everyone at the table had settled a bit, Jean Tassen continued.

“Gentlemen, now that we’ve come to a decision on a first lieutenant, let’s move on to the second. Do you have any ideas about that?”

That was my cue.

“Yes,” I answered calmly, lowering my voice while all the others looked significantly at Tassen. He seemed slightly embarrassed by all the attention.

“Who might that be?” Tassen asked. “Do I know him?”

“Yes,” I replied. “As a matter of fact, he is a man more deserving of the post of lieutenant of Westerly Fort than anyone else. What’s more, he has already devoted the majority of his life to defending this land and city. The man I am talking about is your best friend, Lieutenant Théodore Vincent. He is the man for the job.”

Tassen instantly looked tense and frowned. I saw his jawbones grinding through the now pale skin of his face. His hands meanwhile clenched so hard his knuckles went white. He turned an unblinking heavy gaze on us, then stopped on me.

“Monsieur Renard, if this is some kind of joke, you’re...”

“Jean,” von Holtz interrupted delicately and set a hand on his shoulder. “It would be better for us to continue somewhere no one can eavesdrop. How about we go pay Théo a visit right now...?”

Tassen blinked a few times and stared puzzled at von Holtz.

“Let’s go,” the baron nodded and got up from the table.

As if hypnotized, the lieutenant followed the baron out of the tavern along with the rest of us.

Once outside, we turned down the nearest deserted alley and surrounded Tassen. Baron von Holtz started calmly:

“Jean, remember when I told you that if not for Chevalier Renard, we would not have survived in the valley?”

Tassen nodded in silence while his hands started trembling with anxiety. He could clearly tell that something was happening, but just couldn’t figure out what.

“Look...”

The baron nodded at Vidal and he turned his back to Tassen, removing his cloak and coat, then pulled up his shirt. When Tassen saw his scars, he breathed a stunned sigh.

“This is what I was talking about,” von Holtz nodded at Vidal’s back. “Chevalier Renard is gifted. He’s the one who healed our Vidal and put me and von Brunon back together again. He also kept us safe the whole way back to the fortress.”

Tassen was finally able to look away from the chevalier’s back and turn to face me. In his eyes, I saw a storm of emotion ranging from mistrust and dubiousness to joy and hope.

“Three years ago, a healer visited the Fortress with a group of royal strykers,” the lieutenant came in a voice quavering with anxiety. “We were told that he was among the best royal healers. He agreed to have a look at Théo...”

I could only imagine how much he shook Tassen down for.

“He said Vincent would never be able to walk again.”

“This wound was made by the claws of a shadow beast,” von Holtz barked, and I saw the lieutenant’s eyes go wide. “Yes, Jean, yes... We left some things out. For instance, Chevalier Renard had Vidal back on his feet in a matter of days. And if there’s hope he could help Vincent, we have to try.”

I was looking into Tassen’s puzzled eyes and thinking. Did he have any idea that his response would define the course of his life? I would be sincerely sorry if Tassen made the wrong decision. And not only because I wanted someone I could trust as captain, also because I liked Tassen on a personal level. I had painstakingly gathered information on him and composed a psychological portrait for a reason.

Loyalty was the defining feature of his personality. He remained true to his friends and family no matter what. People like him were the kind I liked to deal with. But if I wanted him loyal to me as well, I had to take action. Action with a capital “a,” and not for Tassen’s sake. I needed to help out a friend of his who seemingly had been written off by everyone else long ago.

“I agree,” the lieutenant came firmly and turned to leave the alley.

All well and good. I breathed a furtive sigh of relief.

* * *

The little apartment Vincent rented for himself was in the artisan quarter of Toulon. Not a bad neighborhood. I suspected that Tassen had played a hand in that.

When we went inside, the Vincents’ apartment immediately felt cramped. We were greeted by the lieutenant’s wife, a short thin woman with gray-streaked black hair. According to Tassen, she had worked for many years as housekeeper in the home of some count until he and his family departed for the capital. They offered to take her along, but Clémentine as she was called couldn’t leave her bedbound husband.

The count then took Clémentine’s refusal as an insult and did not write her a recommendation. Not having a recommendation meanwhile forever closed the door to her finding gainful employment in an elite home ever again. Nobles were very selective in their choice of servant. Even taking on a worker without a recommendation meant subjecting oneself to gossip.

Now Clémentine made ends meet with odd jobs. And was bailed out by her husband’s meager pension and Tassen’s aid. Because they also had a daughter to marry off. And without a dowry, they could forget about a good match.

I glanced around at the Vincents’ home and felt satisfaction. It was modest, but tidy. Clémentine meanwhile looked very neat despite her poverty. And her gaze was so tenacious. There wasn’t a hint of subservience in it. This was a woman who had not broken, and not bent. And she was sincerely happy to see Tassen not because he was their benefactor, but because he was her husband’s best friend, and thus a member of the family.

After the lieutenant introduced us, Clémentine performed a flawless curtsey which I was sure Bertrand would have loved.

After a brief exchange of pleasantries, we were brought into the bedroom where my future patient was lying on a wide bed. When I saw him, I nearly gave a whistle. Even very skinny and with sunken eyes and cheeks, this was a huge man. Now I understood how he was able to lug the moderately large Tassen around the steppe for a whole week.

A quick scan of his body revealed the reason the capital-city healer refused to take him on. It would be at least a month’s work. And that would mean burning through a lot of mana. Tassen simply did not have the money. Also, the healer probably did not want to stay in Toulon for so long.

When he spotted his friend, Théodore Vincent smiled and said quietly:

“Ah, now the captain comes to visit... Too bad I can’t get up to give you a hug. You deserve one! Von Holtz! Von Brunon! Vidal! The gang’s all here just like the good old days. But you’ve brought someone else I cannot recall...”

Vincent’s voice matched his physique. He spoke like an injured brown bear.

“Chevalier Renard,” I introduced myself, getting ahead of the others. “I am here to get you back on your feet.”

When I said that, everyone looked on in amazement as I removed crimson and emerald bruts from my pocket, and a haze of magic immediately enshrouded my hands.

* * *

Swaying in the saddle, I returned to my manor. Thinking back on Clémentine’s tears of joy and Tassen’s eloquent gaze when I told them that Théo Vincent would be back on his feet in around one month, I smiled.

I understood perfectly that my patient was not some innocent little lamb and rather a predator who had sustained an injury fighting for spheres of influence in Westerly Fort. But I enjoyed giving hope to these people. Without a doubt, it was cold calculation on my part with the hope of long-term benefit, but still...

If I wanted things here to work my way, I’d have to do a lot and make many changes. But the foundation had been laid. Beyond that, very soon de Rohan’s bosses would surely make an appearance. In light of the recent uproar, it was possible that they would approach the new fortress commander with an offer. I had to admit, that was my ideal scenario. Although, considering the fact they had sent de Rohan to the frontier to oversee affairs, I did not put too much stock in their good sense.

In one way or another, we had a lot of work ahead of us in Toulon... I closed my eyes and breathed a heavy sigh. Heh... Max’s uncle had chosen a terrible time to rear his head. And he was planning to marry me off ASAP. I would have to ride to the capital to get to the bottom of things.

On the other hand though, I was going to have to make this trip sooner or later. I had to start making friends in high places. Stomping through mud on the frontier and hiking through the jungles of the Shadows were not the extent of my dreams.

Beyond that, I intended to pay a visit to Max’s grandson on his mother’s side. I had to solve the issue of his aunt who had hired de Lamar. Who could say what crazy schemes would pop into her stormy mind next?

I breathed another sigh and looked around. And here I’d already started getting used to Toulon. It was not a bad town. And everyone already knew me. I’d earned a lot of fame with that cancelled duel. Everyone I passed greeted me and smiled. I was practically at home.

When I rode into the courtyard of my manor, I found Bertrand waiting. Hopping down from the horse, I handed off the reins to Jérémie who came right out.

“What are your instructions, master?” the old servant asked.

“Commence travel preparations,” I said, walking up the steps and removing my gloves. “In one month, we make for the capital. Jacques and Kevin will be coming with us.”

“You decided not to leave Jacques in charge?” Bertrand decided to clarify.

“No,” I replied. “I found someone to replace him. Tomorrow morning, Clémentine Vincent will be coming over. She will be my housekeeper. And she will not be alone. She is bringing her daughter to be my laundrywoman. Welcome them and help them get settled in. I want her to look after the house while we’re away.”

“Yes, monsieur,” Bertrand replied emotionlessly and bowed.

“And call Jacques,” I came, walking through the doorway. “We have a lot of work ahead of us. It would be nice to get it done before we leave.”

Then, with a smirk, I added:

“Come now. Smile, my friend! Herouxville awaits!”