Valkyrie's Shadow

Before the Storm: Act 8, Chapter 1

Before the Storm: Act 8, Chapter 1

Chapter 1

“For someone who’s supposed to be my vassal, you seem far too interested in Albedo.”

“I would be a fool to miss this opportunity, my lady,” Ludmila replied. “It isn’t every day that one can witness a polearm user so skilled.”

Lady Shalltear snorted.

“Skilled, huh…rather than her skills, I would say the main thing that she has is her Skills. They’re not something you can steal.”

“Even knowing that something is possible is valuable in itself,” Ludmila replied.

In the time since E-Rantel was annexed, her experiences made it abundantly apparent that the world had an unfathomable depth that completely escaped the largely mundane views of Re-Estize and Baharuth. Ludmila had been blessed with a liege who had helped her to escape the conceptual cage that she had been raised in, yet she knew that her journey to understand the world had barely begun.

The greatest obstacles on that journey were, similarly to her own upbringing, the myriad conceptual frameworks in which the people of the world viewed reality. Everyone had lines drawn between possible and impossible; fact and fiction. The power of a race, how advanced a society was, and what one had been exposed to all factored into their capacity to analyse what they perceived and enact their will upon the world.

“Mah, it’s as I always say, isn’t it? The desire to learn and improve is a laudable thing. Our tournament here is meant to similarly encourage everyone’s growth.”

Ludmila shifted slightly in her seat as the Sorcerer King’s deep, regal voice rolled over her. She had been in his presence for much of her visit to Nazarick, but she still had a hard time quelling the turmoil he stirred within her. At least she could maintain her outward composure so long as he didn’t suddenly pop up in front of her as he occasionally did.

“If it’s about that,” Lady Shalltear said, “then you should learn from me. I use a polearm as well, yes?”

“I am, my lady,” Ludmila replied. “But I am not limited to learning from one source, am I?”

Lady Shalltear sniffed and made a show of scanning the arena’s stands. If Ludmila was to be perfectly honest, Lady Albedo’s combat style was far more relevant to Ludmila’s than Lady Shalltear’s. The Prime Minister mainly wielded her weapon with both hands. Lady Shalltear, on the other hand, wielded her shortened lance with one hand while keeping her offhand free to cast magic. It was a strange contrast to how Clerics usually fought, which was to hold a shield while using their free hand to either wield a weapon or cast magic.

While the school of combat passed down to Ludmila by her parents did include one-handed spear use – usually together with a shield – her position as a Captain saw her using her weapon with both hands. She did pick up things here and there from her liege, but it wouldn’t be accurate to say that Lady Albedo didn’t offer much more.

That being said, it was still a monumental challenge trying to make sense of what both were doing. Neither of them exhibited the logic of veteran combatants. As both were immortal beings, this was especially puzzling. Nothing they did suggested that they were incorporating the wealth of combat experience that they should have possessed. Instead, it seemed to mostly be a combination of sheer, overwhelming physical ability and some effort to puzzle out how to fight on their own. Ludmila could only assume that they were both so powerful that their opponents had no chance of prevailing in personal combat no matter what they did.

As a result, Ludmila couldn’t gain any insights as to the nuances of combat between powerful melee combatants. Lady Shalltear told her that all Lady Albedo had to offer was her Skills, but that was literally the only thing of value that Ludmila could draw from both Lady Albedo and Lady Shalltear in the tournament matches.

The noise of the denizens in the stands grew louder as the arena filled for the evening match. It was a fight of particular interest to Ludmila as it would showcase a battle between a warrior and a magic caster. This was a rare contest in reality due to how armies and even small parties organised themselves: no Commander in their right mind would expose their casters to close-quarters scenarios if it could be helped. The only time melee combatants tended to get within range of an opposing force’s caster line was after a surprise breakthrough where said casters were already depleted or caught unprepared.

“What I still do not understand is the prevalence of Skills over Martial Arts in these matches,” Ludmila said. “Are they so vastly superior that no one here uses Martial Arts at all?”

“I don’t see anything wrong with relying on Skills,” Lady Shalltear said. “It isn’t as if anyone can defeat our warriors in combat just because they don’t have Martial Arts.”

Ludmila wasn’t sure if that was the case. The reuse of Weapon Skills was limited by a ‘timer’. In exchange, many came at low to no cost to execute relative to spells. Skills with short timers tended to have no mana cost, but only had a strength comparable to basic Martial Arts. As Weapon Skills got stronger, their timers became longer and some had a substantial mana cost attached. Given how long it took to regenerate mana, she suspected that Weapon Skills became a liability in protracted conflicts.

Martial Arts, on the other hand, were only limited by the endurance and focus of the user. It was a sizable exertion for novices, but less of a problem for more powerful individuals. Additionally, if one used a magic item that nullified fatigue – or they didn’t get tired in the first place – a proficient Martial Arts user with exceptional mental fortitude could probably keep going indefinitely.

Also, Martial Arts seemed to be able to ‘combo’ far earlier than Skills. When fighting opponents around Nazarick near her Level, she hadn’t seen any demonstrate the same sort of explosive technique that Lord Cocytus was capable of. By comparison, Martial Arts users could start combining techniques as early as Silver Rank. This felt like an undeniable advantage over Weapon Skills, as the realities of combat tended to favour killing one’s opponent quickly rather than standing around waiting for timers on Skills.

Stillness fell over the crowd as the lighting dimmed and Lady Aura appeared under a trio of spotlights. The Dark Elf Ranger raised her hands with a wide grin.

“Welcome, welcome, one and all to tonight’s main event! And, boy, do we have a treat for you! In the blue corner, measuring in at one hundred five centimetres and twenty kilograms, we have the Disciple of Disaster, Mare Bello Fiore!

The stands erupted into cheers, emanating mostly from the denizens of the Sixth Floor and a gaggle of the Royal Household’s Maids, Miss Alpha included. On the arena floor, Lord Mare recoiled from the sound, timidly shrinking in on himself as he nervously clutched his staff.

“In the black corner, measuring in at one hundred seventy centimetres and four thousand, eight hundr–”

“GRAAAAHHH!!!”

An unearthly roar drowned out Lady Aura’s voice as Lady Albedo charged Lord Mare’s position. Lord Mare let out a startled cry and fled, his feet pattering over the sand as he tried to escape his opponent.

“Cheating!”

“The Guardian Overseer jumped the gun!”

“Be brave, Lord Mare!”

Neither contestant appeared to heed the calls from the crowd. Ludmila frowned as Lady Albedo’s pursuit took far longer than expected.

“She has flown much faster than this in previous matches,” Ludmila half said to herself. “What is going on?”

“It should be that, shouldn’t it?” Lady Shalltear said, “Albedo is a Demon who delights in tormenting the weak. Not that Mare is particularly weak, but his reaction practically begs for you to tease him.”

“So it is a…tactic?”

Was Lord Mare purposely exploiting an inescapable part of Lady Albedo’s demonic nature? What did Lord Mare intend to do with the time that he bought? It was impossible to read the Dark Elf Druid through the look of sheer panic on his face. Glasir was being taught how to fight by Lady Aura and Lord Mare, however, so her best guess was that Lord Mare was silently casting enchantments on himself to maximise his fighting potential after the surprise attack.

“Auh!”

A vicious swing from Lady Albedo’s bardiche caught Lord Mare in the waist. Ludmila winced as he flew into the wall of the arena, throwing up a cloud of dust upon impact. She wasn’t alone in her reaction. Across the stands, many of Nazarick’s denizens were standing in their seats, exclaiming their dismay or looking on with worried expressions.

Several moments later, the patter of panicked feet resumed. Lord Mare emerged from the cloud of dust, continuing his tearful flight around the arena. Lady Albedo floated after him menacingly.

“I wouldn’t exactly call it a tactic,” Lady Shalltear said. “It’s just how he is, isn’t he?”

Ludmila sighed. She knew Lord Mare displayed a timid nature most of the time, but it was disappointing nonetheless.

“I know he is still a child,” she said, “but boys should possess a bit more fortitude.”

“Should he?” Lady Shalltear tilted her head, “Mare is the way that he is because it’s the way he’s supposed to be.”

Her frown deepened at Lady Shalltear’s highly problematic statement. Did she expect Lord Mare to remain a child forever? The ignorant might assume that she was speaking from the standpoint of an Undead being, but even the Undead were capable of change.

The Sorcerer King often expressed a desire for his subjects to learn and grow. Despite this, those same subjects seemed to want the exact opposite. They were satisfied with the way things were and pursued ideals that were similarly unchanging. His Majesty’s forbearance on the matter of his subjects’ rebellious attitude wasn’t something Ludmila could manage. Perhaps it was merely the patience expected out of an immortal.

“Auh!”

Once again, Lord Mare was smashed into the arena wall. When he emerged from the cloud of dust this time, however, an ominous sound accompanied his persecuted cries.

“Ufufufufu…ufufufufu!”

“What is that noise?” Ludmila asked.

“It’s Albedo,” Lady Shalltear answered.

The dreadful sound served to spur Lord Mare onward in his ever more frantic flight. Eventually, he ran right out of the arena, his tearful cries echoing down the same tunnel he had entered through. Lady Aura hopped down from her platform with a somewhat disgusted look.

“Winner, Albedo!”

The applause that followed was polite, at best. Ludmila stared down at the open binder on her lap, where the fresh page intended for any useful notes on the fight remained untouched.

“What was the point of that?” She muttered.

“Asserting her position as first wife, I believe,” Lady Shalltear’s silvery voice took on a sour note.

Ludmila couldn’t understand it. She knew that Lady Shalltear and Lady Albedo were contending for a place at the Sorcerer King’s side as his principal consort, but what did Lord Mare have to do with that?

She turned her gaze upon the black-armoured figure standing smugly triumphant in the middle of the arena. On a whim, she measured how in line the Prime Minister was with the Sorcerer King’s will.

Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

As I thought…

Naturally, no one could be perfectly in line with the will of another, but Lady Albedo was clearly out of any reasonable bounds. Ludmila turned to address the Sorcerer King.

“Your Majesty,” she said, “is this truly alright?”

“Hm? Well, I suppose it didn’t make for a very good match…”

“If I may presume to say so,” Ludmila said, “I do not think it is beneficial for Lord Mare’s development if his hard work is suppressed by people terrorising him.”

“Ah, that’s what you meant,” the Sorcerer King crossed his arms, then let out a sigh. “I admit that I’m not particularly fond of it. Still, when one becomes a working member of society, one has to deal with far more complicated forms of ‘suppression’, no?”

Ludmila stared at the hem of the Sorcerer King’s robe, her mind working to grasp the purpose behind the god of justice’s unexpected question.

“Realistically speaking, Your Majesty,” she said carefully, “I cannot recall any record of a perfectly just society. Even in the legends where Bards are free to stretch the truth in fantastical ways, no one ever claims that this can ever be achieved. However, that does not mean one should accept injustice if they have the means to help put it to an end.”

“Yet what is ‘injustice’?” The Sorcerer King asked, “In the past few years alone, I have come across countless people who will assert one version of justice or another. What is fair and unfair; moral and immoral. Quite frankly, some of them have left me at a loss for words.”

“It is something that I have been wrestling with, as well,” Ludmila answered. “As Your Majesty says, everyone has their own version of justice and the differences become extreme when comparing certain races. Justice according to deer means that the wolves will starve, after all.”

“So you mean to say that reconciling different versions of justice is practically impossible? That a country that counts multiple races as its citizens is similarly a futile venture?”

“If that was the cas–”

“Ueeeehhhh!”

A distressed cry rose from behind the Sorcerer King, followed by the familiar pattering of a child’s feet.

“Lord Ainz! Miss Albedo was so scary!”

Lord Mare ran right into His Majesty, burying himself in his black robes with a pomf. Lady Aura came behind him with a cross look on her face.

“Mare!” She said as she grabbed her brother by the collar and yanked him away, “You’re being rude to Lord Ainz!”

“Uuuu…”

The Sorcerer King placed a hand on Lord Mare’s head.

“Now, now, this was supposed to be an exercise, wasn’t it?”

“Was this Mare’s plan all along?” Lady Shalltear mused. “I wonder what Albedo would say if she saw this…”

“Lady Shalltear,” Ludmila said, “why is it that Lady Albedo never comes up to speak to the Sorcerer King after her matches?”

“A self-imposed restriction, perhaps?” Her liege replied, “She spends every free moment training for her matches these days. After begging for all those items from Lord Ainz, she can hardly afford to lose. I suspect that she’s going to request something outrageous if she sweeps the tournament.”

Ludmila wasn’t sure about Lady Albedo not being able to afford to lose, but she had won all of her matches in the tournament thus far. Supposedly, the secret to her success was the fact that she had borrowed various items from the Sorcerer King, which she used to directly counter each of her opponents. Despite becoming aware of her preparations, all of the contestants who faced her stubbornly refused to make similar adjustments to their equipment.

“Are you not worried about your match with her tomorrow, my lady?”

“Not particularly…”

Lady Shalltear was no exception to the odd behaviour of the Sorcerer King’s vassals. The fact that she constantly strove to improve as both Ludmila’s liege and the Minister of Transportation made it all the more confusing.

On the other side of His Majesty, the twins’ energetic chatting petered out. Ludmila took the opportunity to remind them of their schedule.

“Lady Aura,” Ludmila said, “Lord Mare. I believe we have some studies to conduct in the Library.”

“Right-o.”

“Un.”

“Ah, look at the time,” Lady Shalltear said. “I need to go and do my rounds. Ludmila, I’ll see you later tonight?”

“Yes, my lady.”

A few days after arriving at the Great Tomb of Nazarick, Ludmila had established a fairly consistent schedule. She helped test security with Lady Omega in the morning up until the midday tournament match. After that, she studied in the Great Library of Ashurbanipal until late at night, with the evening tournament match acting as a break in her session. At some point, she started feeling sorry for avoiding Lady Shalltear – she was presumably visiting with her, after all – and set aside some time late at night to spend together with her on her Floors.

Occasionally, she would visit one part of Nazarick or the other if she felt it necessary, but she didn’t like imposing on others while they were seeing to their duties.

Ludmila smiled and waved as Lady Shalltear bid the Sorcerer King a good evening and left the pavilion. His Majesty looked between Ludmila and the Dark Elf twins.

“Studies?” The Sorcerer King said.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Ludmila said. “We spend a few hours in the Great Library of Ashurbanipal investigating a certain selection of tomes.”

“A certain selection, you say…would you mind if I take a look at what you’re studying?”

“We are at Your Majesty’s service.”

Lady Aura and Lord Mare flanked the Sorcerer King as they left the arena. Ludmila fell into step behind them, pondering His Majesty’s behaviour. Simply put, he acted in an excessively polite manner, often to the point of appearing deferential. Of course, she understood that everyone behaved according to their setting, but it seemed strange that the Sorcerer King would switch from one set of formal behaviours to another – especially when the latter was in what should have been the most casual environment. If anything, the most relaxed His Majesty had been in her recollection was not in the heart of his domain, but when they were out in the Katze Plains.

Come to think of it, that wasn’t the first time His Majesty struck out on his own…

He had gone on independent outings to the Baharuth Empire and the Azerlisia Mountains. Plus, he had spoken fondly of his ‘adventuring days’ with his comrades at some unknown point in the past. Her Ability tended to show him to be at odds with himself when he acted as a sovereign, as well.

A god-king whose heart lay in adventures to far-flung lands? It wasn’t that ridiculous when she thought about it. There was an abundance of accounts where great leaders preferred the path of conquest over home rule and House Zahradnik’s founder had notoriously stuck to his Adventurer roots, leaving the routines of rulership to his subordinates.

Ludmila’s eyes traced over the dark folds of the Sorcerer King’s luxurious robes. Was His Majesty happy with the way things were now? She couldn’t bear the thought of him being truly miserable.

Rather than heading straight to the library, they stopped by the tournament’s festival grounds to pick up some food. To avoid being swarmed by his subjects, the Sorcerer King had Lady Aura and Lord Mare line up for their preferred dishes while His Majesty waited out of sight on the other side of a nearby grove. The Sorcerer King cleared his throat.

“Now, where were we…”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Ludmila said. “I do not believe that the difficulties encountered when trying to reconcile the fundamental differences between races mean that any attempt to do so is a futile venture. We have present-day examples of multiracial countries in the form of the Argland Confederation and the City State Alliance. I’m particularly interested in how things work in the City State Alliance.”

“Why is that?” The Sorcerer King asked.

“Because Argland is a relatively young country,” Ludmila answered. “It came into being after the Demon Gods alongside most other countries in the region. Based on my knowledge of history, young countries always have some sort of lynchpin that holds them together. In the case of Argland, a group of Dragon Lords hold permanent seats on the country’s ruling council. Unity is likely maintained through their martial strength, though I do not know how invasive the application of that strength is in the everyday lives of the citizens.”

“So you draw parallels between Argland and the Sorcerous Kingdom in that sense,” the Sorcerer King said. “But is it truly something to take issue with?”

“Lady Corelyn would call it a problem of efficiency and resilience,” Ludmila said. “It only gets worse the more we depend on it. Martial strength can serve as an answer to many challenges, but it is not necessarily the best answer. In many cases, it can lead to issues. Additionally, the loss of that strength leading to the downfall of a society is not an uncommon tale.”

“Have you become aware of a foreign power that might bring about that downfall?”

“It would be foolish to assume ourselves unassailable, but no,” Ludmila replied. “In the case of the current Sorcerous Kingdom, it is a matter of projection. My experiences so far have made it abundantly clear that we have the power to strike down any specific target, but, like any nation, we are subject to the same realities when it comes to law enforcement and maintaining general security. Even more pressing is our ever-growing deficit when it comes to qualified public servants.”

The latter problem wasn’t one that could be easily solved. From the outset, the Duchy of E-Rantel had lost over half of its resident Nobles, the city’s administrative staff was completely gone, and it was practically impossible to attract talent from abroad. With their sudden expansion into the Abelion Wilderness, they were starting to cannibalise their already limited resources.

While the Elder Liches could handle accounting, recordkeeping, and other menial office tasks, attempts to put them in leadership roles had ultimately proven them unsuitable. Never mind running a fief, they couldn’t even fill in as a village magistrate unless one wanted the villagers to be managed like a small Undead army. The Sorcerous Kingdom needed to raise a new generation of administrators, but it was growing far faster than the existing establishment’s ability to provide. Quite frankly, the institutions required to match the pace of the Sorcerous Kingdom’s growth were still in the nascent stages of development.

“What does the City State Alliance have to offer that Argland doesn’t?” The Sorcerer King asked.

“History,” Ludmila answered. “The members of the City State Alliance are the remnants of a country that was destroyed by the Demon Gods. Despite this, its citizens largely still identify as the people of Karnassus. In other words, any significant martial might that Karnassus possessed was lost two hundred years ago, yet their society avoided devolving into the tribal anarchy that cynical thinkers would expect it to.”

“I see,” the Sorcerer King stroked his majestic chin, “so you seek an answer to the Sorcerous Kingdom’s current challenges in Karnassus.”

“I already know what the answer is, Your Majesty,” Ludmila replied. “It is the specifics of that answer that I’m interested in.”

“And what is that answer?”

“Culture. The protocol through which the realities of a society can be translated according to an individual’s nature. Over countless centuries, the old country of Karnassus devised a way for all of its member species to become part of the same societal fabric despite their fundamental differences. The culture of Karnassus was so resilient that it survived the Demon Gods’ rampage and did not require overwhelming martial might to maintain in the aftermath.”

“When you put it that way,” the Sorcerer King said. “It is far more complicated than most people would think.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Ludmila nodded. “What makes it even more impressive is that the City State Alliance is politically unstable. It is a society without a single country presiding over it, yet it perseveres even as the remnants of Karnassus vie for political and economic dominance over their peers.”

“That does sound odd. Do you know why this is?”

“According to Countess Wagner and Baroness Gagnier, it is the same thing that keeps the country from reforming. Every city-state in the City State Alliance claims to be the true successor of Karnassus.”

“…so their national spirit is so strong that it’s sabotaging any unification efforts?”

“It may be as Your Majesty says, or perhaps it is not strong enough. Without a more thorough investigation, I cannot rightfully claim to know what the problem is. Whatever it may be, the result is that the City State Alliance has been in the midst of a succession conflict for well over a century.”

“A rather quiet one, don’t you think? We hardly get any reports that even suggest conflict in Karnassus.”

“They say that the balance of power is such that competition between city-states stays mostly non-violent,” Ludmila said. “Loose standings are determined by prestige, wealth, political clout, and so on. Since no one can force the issue, things remain at a permanent impasse despite the ebb and flow of these softer factors.”

“And you wish to emulate this…culture?”

Ludmila shook her head.

“No Your Majesty,” she said, “I merely wish to study it…though emulation in some form may have some merit.”

“How so?”

“In time,” Ludmila said, “I fear that the Sorcerous Kingdom’s hegemony may settle into a stagnant state due to the unprecedented security that we offer its members. Countries that have nothing better to do than turn their gaze inward have the unfortunate tendency to fall into decadence and decay. We believe that this seeming inevitability can be mitigated by encouraging healthy competition.”

“Hoh, an intriguing proposition,” the Sorcerer King crossed his arms, gesturing loosely with his right hand. “I’ve come up with similar proposals – albeit on a smaller scale – but my Prime Minister keeps shooting them down.”

“Based on what I have seen of her work,” Ludmila said, “she places an almost singular emphasis on efficiency. The only cultural events that have been proposed by the Royal Court do not celebrate the country and its people, but focus on glorifying its sovereign.”

The Sorcerer King pointed a long, alabaster finger at her.

“Exactly that!” He said, “I instructed them to come up with some cultural events and it became an endless march of Sorcerer King days. National holidays should be more national, don’t you think? At this rate, I fear that our country may become deficient in various ways.”

“What does Your Majesty desire?”

“Eh? Ah…hmm, things were much smaller scale back then, but something along the lines of a sports festival? No, considering how things are now, maybe local teams? Something like that.”

“I am afraid that this concept is not familiar to me,” Ludmila said. “The things that come to mind are joint training sessions conducted by the military or perhaps the arena system in the Baharuth Empire.”

“Perhaps they share the same roots. I’m sure that creating something palpable for the citizens can help create a sense of local identity. This isn’t an order, mind you, simply something I thought might be related to what you were talking about.”

“Understood, Your Majesty,” Ludmila lowered her head. “I shall endeavour to keep your wishes in mind.”