Last Life

MUCH TO MY SURPRISE, finding a home in Toulon was no problem. As it turned out, Monsieur Mollet, owner of the inn where we were staying also owned a small manor on the outskirts of town as well as a few guest houses in various quarters. That level of property ownership made me conclude Monsieur Mollet likely had connections with the mayor, so I tried to make a good impression on him. He meanwhile was no fool, and saw right through my scheme, though I was not particularly hiding it. As a commoner, he liked getting this kind of attention from a nobleman who appeared quite well off.

Basically, when Monsieur Mollet found out that I had come to town for a long stay and wanted to rent a big comfortable place, he immediately knew where to put me. He claimed to have a manor he would sometimes rent out to travelling merchants but was presently empty.

When I saw the manor, I realized that the word “sometimes” meant something different to Monsieur Mollet than it did to me. Based on the condition, if anyone ever rented it out, it had been a long time — two or three years at least.

But despite its dereliction, I liked it. Most of all for its location. It was a quiet and relaxed area. Just what I wanted. Beyond that, like many homes in Toulon, its construction reflected the fact that it was near the frontier. It was practically a small fortress and could easily withstand quite a long siege.

Monsieur Mollet had purchased the manor from a bankrupt aristocrat who decided to take his family to the capital to go seek his fortune. A two-story brick building surrounded by a high stone wall, it was divided into two wings. The first was for the lord and his family to live in, while the second contained servant quarters.

In front of the main entrance to the house, there was a little garden. The large back yard meanwhile had a number of outbuildings, an orchard, and a well.

Because no one had been living in the manor for several years, all the amenities were, though not exactly in ruins, in quite a neglected state. The garden was gloomy and unsightly after winter. In the middle of the backyard, there was a large black spot where a pond once had been, while the orchard existed in name only. The stable, cowshed, and chicken coop weren’t looking too great, either. They all had a few rotten boards on their walls and large holes in their roofs.

Monsieur Mollet said he always meant to take better care of the manor but kept putting it off. All his attention had to be devoted to the inn and guest houses. The manor meanwhile... He dropped a couple phrases that made me conclude that, while he got the manor for cheap, it had come to be a sort of burden for him. The city property tax had to be paid in full every year. Beyond that, Monsieur Mollet still did a few things to maintain the house. For example, the well was clearly in good condition, and its water could be drunk with no fear of illness. The house’s roof was repaired regularly, and the rooms were aired out. Even the furniture had not all been sold off.

Overall, when he noticed I liked the manor, Monsieur Mollet immediately tried to play hardball and asked for four hundred thalers a month. It was, after all, a baron’s former manor with a wine cellar and a big balcony with a picturesque view of the Forest of Toulon.

The negotiation was fun, and both of us enjoyed it. In the end, we came together at seventy thalers a month. Monsieur Mollet tried to hit me with a small additional expense for a laundrywoman and cook, but I refused adamantly, explaining that we were all men and quite rough ones at that. And I had plenty of people to cover all the work that needed doing. Basically, we could handle our own housekeeping. Without two spies. But I didn’t say the last part to avoid insulting the esteemed landlord.

“Get the rooms figured out?” I asked, taking a sip of a hot herbal tea.

“Yes,” Jacques nodded. “You don’t need to worry about that.”

He and I were sitting at a small table in front of the living room fireplace and sharing a quiet dinner.

Bertrand, having eaten quickly, was already back in the kitchen saying something to Kevin, who was constantly tailing him. We could also hear the others in there ringing their spoons nonstop.

I wanted to have dinner all together at the long kitchen table, but Bertrand and Jacques talked me out of it. Enough. We were no longer on the road, so we no longer needed to eat out of one pot while sitting around a fire. I was a nobleman and, if anyone from my social class found out I allowed myself to dine at the same table as serfs, I’d never hear the end of it. A few particularly hotheaded noblemen would certainly try to insult me to provoke a duel.

Jacques was another story. Even though he was my stable hand, he was still a member of the warrior class. And after that trip, Jacques was practically my muscle, as well as my steward. At the very least, he thought so. And he had confirmed his intentions several times when reaching for his weapon and standing next to me. For example, on the night when a cave bear awoke from its hibernation and stumbled upon our camp in the woods. But everyone put up a good show that night. Nobody got afraid. Even Kevin was ready to shoot his crossbow. We did not kill the beast, but we were able to chase it away from camp.

“How do you like the place?”

“It’s old but has good bones,” Jacques nodded. “At least it’s not full of mold. But it needs plenty of work. It’ll give these freeloaders something to do.”

“Just don’t go too hard on them,” I warned.

“They’ll be fine,” Jacques reassured me. “They’re tough. They can stand up to a bit of hard work.”

“Will a hundred crowns do?”

“More than,” Jacques waved.

“You sure we need all that?” I asked.

“Of course!” he responded confidently. “Why run off to the market every day to spend cash on food when we practically have a whole farm ready to go here in the backyard. Everyone does it. Plus, we’re here for the long run.”

“You know best,” I shrugged.

“Gunnar and I planned a trip over to the next village to buy everything we need. A couple goats, geese, and chickens, plus seeds. And various little things like tools... But we can get those in town. Essentially, monsieur, we will be set up to provide for your every possible comfort.”

“Don’t forget about yourselves,” I snorted.

“But of course,” Jacques smirked back at me. “It’s not like I came up with this whole headache for my own benefit.”

“You can say that again,” I sighed. “Whoever would have thought being a slave owner would be such a hassle? By the way, don’t forget about training, either.”

Jacques winced.

“I won’t. How could I...? But I don’t like all this. What if someone finds out you ordered your serfs to learn mortal combat? You’d never hear the end of it.”

“That’s my concern,” I waved. “The training is yours. Plus, you’ve already taken the money.”

“I have, but I warned you they’ll never make good warriors. Maybe Gunnar could be worth something... But it’ll take a while.”

“I’m not asking you to make them legendary warriors,” I objected. “I just want them to be able to hold their own. Plus, they’re far from cowards. Sure they were scared of that bear, but they didn’t shiver. Or retreat.”

“That’s for sure,” Jacques said with a heavy sigh. But in his eyes, I saw approval. “Despite being peasants, they are brave.”

“And in regard to their being serfs...” I came. “Well, they won’t be for long.”

“You decided to free them?” Jacques asked in surprise.

“Not just that... It is of course safer for them to be counted my serfs for now but, I do not plan to wander this world like a tumbleweed forever. I will get married and settle down. When I get land, I’ll hire them out and put the proceeds toward my house. And you will look after them. We’ll all get rich together. As for mortal combat... Well, that’s more for protection. If the neighbor’s retinue wants to play games, they better not come knocking here. My guys will run them straight through.”

“Then you and your neighbor will be at war,” Jacques shook his head, but I could see in his eyes that he liked the idea. “Peasants running servicemen through? Who’s ever heard of such a thing?”

“My neighbors will be my concern,” I came in an icy tone. “What matters to me is that everyone knows even peasants will stand to defend my lands. And that’s not considering the fact I’ll have a retinue of my own. And I won’t take any attacks on my people lying down.”

“Sensible,” Jacques shook his head. “These guys will follow you to hell and back after all you’ve done for them. And they’ll tell their kids to pray to the Most Luminous Mother for your safety.”

I just shrugged.

“Everything is connected in this world. When you’re doing well, so am I and vice versa. If you approach everything intelligently and with a good heart, you can live a decent life.”

Particularly if it’s your last... But I didn’t say that part out loud.

We spent a little longer talking, then I went up to my room. I needed to get some proper rest. Tomorrow I would be back on the road.

Before falling asleep, when Bertrand came to check on me as always, he and I had a tough conversation.

“So,” I started, taking a scroll from a box and unfurling it on the desk. “Listen and commit this to memory.”

My most senior servant, sensing the weight of the moment, nodded in silence. Staring tensely at the papers, he kept trying to gaze into my eyes. He was clearly desperate to know what was going on.

“I want you to concentrate and listen to me with a cool head. Got it?”

Bertrand nodded again. He clearly was trying to look calm, but his hands gave him away. His thin knobby fingers were clutching nervously at the bottom of his coat.

“You know where I’m going tomorrow. And you also know why. I’ve explained it many times already. I do not intend to die a hero’s death for the glory of the crown. But anything could happen.”

The old man shuddered and blessed me with the protection sign of the Most Luminous Mother.

“So, I prepared a set of instructions just in case...”

Tears welled up in the old man’s eyes.

“Don’t cry for me just yet,” I smiled and patted him approvingly on the shoulder. “After all, I’m not all that easy to kill. You’ve seen that firsthand.”

Bertrand did not share my wry mood, much less my idea to head to the frontier, but the tears stopped flowing.

“I hope that concludes the intro portion,” I chuckled and pointed at the first scroll. “Now let’s get to the meat... This is my will. In the unlikely event of my death, the majority of my property will go to you. Bank accounts, several pieces of jewelry and some small items. I believe it should be enough for you to live out the rest of your days in a house of your own never knowing poverty. The document was composed and notarized by Monsieur Cluzet. If you should run into trouble, he promised to help. He’s an honest man. I trust him. And...”

I pointed at my will.

“I want the wagon and two draught horses to go to Jacques. But only after he delivers you to Monsieur Cluzet in Sardent. From there... These five scrolls...”

I unfurled five sealed rolls of paper.

“These documents grant freedom to the boys. I also willed them each twenty crowns. That should be enough for them to get on their feet. Kevin I left a hundred. He’s special, but lonely. He’ll be better off going to the capital for studies. To develop his gift. You help him if you can, okay?”

“I will not forsake him,” Bertrand said, clenching his fists. “He will complete his studies and become a great mage.”

I nodded and smiled. All well and good. But the old man was coming apart at the seams. I had to redirect his attention. He’d taken a liking to Kevin. He was fretting over him like a broody hen. And the kid was always hot on Bertrand’s heels.

But he’d never truly make a great mage. He just wasn’t cut out for it. Though maybe I was wrong. Perhaps he would master alchemy and become a man of esteem. At any rate, he’d never go hungry as long as he did everything right. And Bertrand would make sure he did. He’d somehow managed to raise Max with his wretched personality. Kevin the quiet wimp who hung on his every word would be much easier.

Bertrand and I kept talking for a little while. Mainly me. I was trying to reassure the old man. And I basically pulled it off.

As I was drifting off to sleep, I caught myself thinking that the talk with Bertrand felt like a goodbye. As if we would never see each other again. I closed my eyes and chuckled. No way! My life in this strange new world was just getting started!

* * *

“Hey, kid!” a broad-shouldered warrior laughed through long gray whiskers. The thick beard on his muscular chin was moving like it had a mind of its own. “You sure you didn’t make a wrong turn?!”

The big man’s exclamation was supported by loud whinnying from the troops standing up on the fortress walls.

“The parochial school is that way!” a veiny, pimply hulk with a half-smashed nose droned down.

That was how I was greeted by my new comrades in arms at Westerly Fort, which I reached several hours before midday. I was now standing in an internal courtyard and lazily looking around while totally ignoring the servicemen’s mockery. Let them have it. I’d always be able to hurt them with a response later. I had no reason to spoil our relationship just yet. Soon, I might be fighting shoulder-to-shoulder with them against a common enemy.

I should note that the Great Westerly Fort, which I’d heard so much about, did not impress me much. In my past life, I had visited much more monumental places.

“Everyone shut your mouths!” a commanding bark came from one of the towers up above, and the laughter immediately ceased.

I looked up and met eyes with a thin, gray-haired man standing on a narrow little balcony off the tower.

“Your name, young man?!” he asked harshly.

“Chevalier Renard!” I stood at attention. “I came on an order from Captain de Rohan to report to a Lieutenant Tassen for service in the Shadow Patrol.”

“I am Lieutenant Jean Tassen,” the gray-hair said. “Were you told that we will be departing in a matter of hours?”

“Yes, monsieur lieutenant,” I replied and, nodding at my horses loaded up with all the necessities, added: “I’m ready!”

“I don’t think you totally understand where we’re headed, chevalier,” Tassen took me down a peg. “No man is ever truly ready for a meeting with the Shadow. Much less a newcomer which you undoubtedly must be. Anyway, we’ve all been in your position before. But not everyone survives their first run-in. I suggest you forget about your noble status for the duration, Renard. If you want to make it back home alive and well, you will have to obey my every order without hesitation, as well as those of my sergeants, just like everyone else. You got that?”

“Clear as day, monsieur lieutenant!” I replied valiantly.

“I really hope so,” Tassen came darkly. “And now, find Maître Jacob. He will provide you with all the potions you’d better not venture into the Shadow without.”

After saying that, the lieutenant disappeared into the bowels of the tower, and I looked around. Where was I supposed to find this Maître Jacob?

Bah! What familiar faces! Patrick and his three buddies. They were standing aside and laughing. Trixie’s fiancé though was going to put a hole through me with his gaze. Based on the equipment, they were also going into the Shadow. Well, okay, maybe that was for the best.

“Hey!” a rasping voice rang out behind me.

I turned. A few paces away there stood a short fat man with a beard. The look in his light blue eyes had a certain air... It made me feel like an insect being examined by an entomologist.

“That you, Renard?” he asked.

“I... Who might you be...?”

“You can call me Maître Jacob,” he muttered and took a step toward the far tower. “Leave the horses here and follow me.”

While I tied up the horses to a hitching post, the fat guy covered quite a lot of ground. I caught up to him next to the door into the tower. I had just enough time to give his energy system a scan. Maître Jacob was the first gifted person I’d met at the frontier. His energy channels glowed with a dark green hue. As an aside, when I came here, I thought I’d find more mages.

“How are you doing for money, kid?” Maître Jacob asked when we made it to the second floor of the tower and entered a wide office with bookcases and tables piled high with test tubes, flasks, and other potion brewing equipment.

I cast an intrigued look around the laboratory and answered:

“The lieutenant didn’t mention that I’d have to pay out of pocket for the potions.”

“For government ones you don’t,” the pudgy alchemist waved it off. “Here you go.”

He took off the table a couple medium-sized phials and extended them to me.

“These are Tears of Light,” he explained. “Add a couple droplets of it to your water. And your horses’, too. It’ll make the headaches easier to bear.”

“Headaches?” I asked.

“Once you get near the Shadow, you’ll understand,” Maître Jacob chuckled pointedly. “Just be careful with the dose. Don’t overdo it. If you get habituated to it, you won’t be able to live without it.”

“Got it,” I nodded, stashing the phials in my pocket. I could look into them later. “Thank you.”

“And that is as far as our king’s generosity extends, may the gods keep him,” the alchemist said with a big smile. “The rest is at the valiant patrolman’s expense. Would you like anything else for the long and treacherous journey?”

A smirk appeared on my lips. I had already scanned the laboratory in true vision, and it lit up with all colors of the rainbow like the place was covered with Christmas lights. There were seemingly things worth my while here.

“Well, much esteemed Maître Jacob, what do you have to offer?”