Valkyrie's Shadow

Empire in Chains: Act 4, Chapter 6

Empire in Chains: Act 4, Chapter 6

Chapter 6

“You’re up, pretty boy.”

“Don’t get eaten…or wait, wasn’t that the point?”

Chuckles rose from the men around him. A hand slapped Rangobart on the back, sending him staggering two steps forward. Some part of him urged him to retaliate in some way, but his mind was filled with bigger problems.

That damn old man just doesn’t get it.

To be certain, the games of power that Nobles played existed in the Imperial Army as well, but how and when they were played were entirely different from what Nobles like his father were accustomed to. Or himself, for that matter.

Rangobart was a spare – a non-inheriting male scion of House Roberbad. Not only that, but he was also the third son of a concubine. Because he had been identified as possessing promising potential for magic, however, his father had invested significant resources into his upbringing. Rangobart’s eldest brother had no magical ability, but his capabilities as a Noble were top-notch and so his position as heir to the house was secure. As such, Rangobart was simply a tool to be used by his house.

By itself, this wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. Two fates awaited spares, be they an aristocrat or commoner. The first was that one’s family wanted them for something and could afford to groom them for that role. The second was that they were cast out of the household to fend for themselves: usually around the time they hit fourteen or fifteen. They migrated to urban centres where a hard life awaited all but the most capable.

As his family was moderately powerful and comfortably wealthy, Rangobart was afforded the best education a Noble scion could receive. In addition, he had two tutors in arcane magic. He was enrolled in the Imperial Magic Academy with the expectation that he would make meaningful connections and that his achievements would bring prestige and favour to his house.

A Noble born and raised, Rangobart dutifully did his best to live up to those expectations. He studied hard, earned exceptional grades and was one of the top practitioners of arcane magic in his year.

Beyond his coursework, life in the Imperial Magic Academy was an exercise in the application of aristocratic power and he believed that he acquitted himself well in its use. Rangobart strengthened ties with House Roberbad’s allies and worked to make promising new ones. He even went out of his way to form connections with those of little practical merit. Of course, he also used his influence to ensure that a measure of respect was instilled into those who acted inappropriately towards him and undermined the position of his family.

In all, he thought his school life to be a positive experience, save for encounters with the occasional commoner who stuck their nose into his business either out of naive idealism or an idiotic sense of self-righteousness that they tried to impose on everyone around them.

Since he was not inheriting, Rangobart had many opportunities made available to him as one of the top students in the academy. Nearly all of the ministries attempted to recruit him, including the Imperial Ministry of Magic. It was the Promotional Examination, however, that clinched his decision to join the Imperial Army.

The Imperial Magic Academy incorporated familiarisation with the military in their students’ coursework, as well as promoting the image of the Imperial Army through various other means. This was all well and good, but it had never really affected him as his father labelled much of the Academy’s curriculum as an overt attempt to brainwash the young and impressionable future elites of the Baharuth Empire.

After observing the patrol he was attached to for the Promotional Examination at work and hearing their side of things, however, many things came together and he grew to respect the Imperial Knights for their crucial role in maintaining order and security. Not only that, but life as a member of the Imperial Army was decidedly more exciting than the dreary life of a bureaucratic functionary or arcane researcher that awaited most academy graduates who did not inherit their family’s titles.

Upon learning of his interest in the Army, his ever-ambitious father urged him forward…and that was when his troubles began.

From an outsider’s perspective, advancement in the Imperial Army seemed like a straightforward affair. Unlike the commoners who enlisted through mass recruiting efforts in the cities and towns of the Empire, students of the Imperial Magic Academy became students of the Imperial Military Academy, the university that trained officers for the Empire’s armed forces. They were assigned a practicum based on the branch of the military they joined, combining their ongoing studies with field experience.

Junior officers who completed their training received an honorary knighthood. Rank-and-file soldiers who showed their quality could also climb the ranks. Exceptional knights could then go on to earn more honours, including monetary awards and other distinctions. If one’s achievements were great enough, they could gain Noble titles. Even if this did not happen, soldiers who fulfilled full terms of service were allotted lands to serve as a retirement pension.

With Rangobart’s talents in mind, his father saw the opportunities for what they were and spared no expense to promote his endeavours. He sent money, pulled strings in an effort to position him ideally and occasionally sent letters urging him to rise through the ranks and become a great General…

…except it didn’t work that way. Wizards not being Commanders aside, the culture of the Imperial Army wasn’t the same as the culture of civilians that his father assumed it to be. It was the establishment of the martial nobility, steeped in over six generations of tradition forged in fire and tempered by blood. A place where born warriors were turned into real men.

Being a Noble didn’t make anything easier: it made it harder. Rangobart was lumped into a group that he swore were born in the saddle, grew up wrestling Owlbears, and subsisted on a diet of raw meat and iron nails. The scions of the martial nobility were the group that no one messed with in the Imperial Magic Academy, and, after witnessing them in their element, he had to agree that it was the wisest course of action.

There was no such thing as failing upwards; no way to buy your way up the ranks. If you managed to get yourself seen, you had better be damn ready to prove your worth. If you were found lacking, then the gods have mercy on your wretched soul.

In a profession where one stood shoulder to shoulder with those who entrusted their lives to one another, being seen as someone who pretended to skill and ability was the next closest thing to being dishonourably discharged. Or perhaps it was worse.

As a Noble from the city, this difference in culture was initially a shock. Over the weeks and months, however, his respect for the Imperial Knights only grew. A man’s worth was measured by their personal merits; what they offered to their comrades in arms. Though Rangobart’s father had pulled strings to get him assigned to the Second Legion, Rangobart was confident that he could measure up.

Unfortunately, his father’s continued efforts were undermining Rangobart’s own. It took two months to convince his company Captain that his father’s ‘contributions’ were unasked for. He received a measure of relief when it appeared that the stern man finally believed him…and then his brother came from Arwintar to personally convince the division commander to assign Rangobart as an attaché to the Sorcerous Kingdom’s liaison officer.

The Commander agreed – probably because he thought it would be amusing – and Rangobart’s entire company glared daggers at him for getting them ‘volunteered’ for the job. Resentment turned into ridicule when someone found the cosmetics that his brother had left for him.

In the end, he didn’t use any of it. He didn’t put on the new clothes that had been delivered, either. His father wanted him to make a good impression on this liaison officer, but sticking out like a Cockatrice amongst ranks of professional fighting men would probably be the furthest thing from it.

But that was only half of the problem. Or more like it didn’t address the root of the problem, which was that the liaison officer was a woman.

According to Rangobart’s brother, she was a young noblewoman who had inherited her House’s title after the Battle of Katze Plains. As this inheritance would have probably resulted in the annulment of any betrothal she might have had – if the massacre had not killed her husband or fiancé outright – she would logically be single and looking to produce heirs. His brother also provided a description in an attempt to whet his appetite: she was a tall, exotic southerner. A dark-eyed, dark-haired beauty.

If one were to divide the world between winners and losers, Rangobart would stand near the top of those on the winning side. His family was far more influential and wealthier than most and he was permitted to exercise its authority on their behalf. His gift for magic was clear for all to see and he did not consider himself deficient in anything he should be proficient at. Even amongst the highly competitive ranks of powerful Noble scions, he was considered handsome, elegant and appropriately ambitious.

All things considered, his family’s task was perfectly reasonable. One might say it was something that he was born for and they would not be wrong. Except now he wanted to focus on his career as a soldier and build something of his own. A younger Rangobart would have probably decried this foolishness; to deploy every tool at his disposal and seize the opportunity of a lifetime. Part of him still thought that way, but his stubborn pride as a man wouldn’t let him abandon his ambitions.

He sighed as he reviewed the course of his life. From spare to useful spare to student to soldier-in-training to a potential connection to the unfathomable Sorcerous Kingdom as a consort to one of its Nobles. Considering where she came from, he supposed that he should just be thankful that she wasn’t Undead.

“Here we go…”

Rangobart looked up from his thoughts as one of the company’s Rangers sounded the alert. He peered west up the dwarven highway. A half-minute later, he finally spotted a blotch of vermilion in the distance. The low rumble of hooves sounded softly over them and the men in the company tensed as the vermilion blotch resolved into a banner that everyone knew. Below the shimmering banner, a column of dark figures advanced in the mid-morning light.

Hairs rose on the back of Rangobart’s neck as a wave of trepidation rolled over him. Audible swallows sounded from the ranks behind. As the column grew closer, horses whinnied and gauntlets creaked as they tightened around spears.

Tap. Tap. Taptaptaptaptaptaptap.

He wasn’t sure what it was at first, but realisation quickly came upon him. It was the sound of imperial heavy infantry quaking in their armour.

This is bad.

They had been there. All of them. Rangobart aside, these men had all been present at the Battle of Katze Plains. They were there when the Sorcerer King’s forces spewed forth from the void. They were there to witness the horrifying, one-sided massacre of hundreds of thousands of men. They had seen it all.

That was nearly a year ago. Their fear remained.

What came wasn’t something Humans were meant to face.

Fingernails digging into his palms, Rangobart glanced sidelong at the Captain. The man faced forward, bearing a grim expression. When the Undead column came within fifty metres, he sneered.

“Atten-tion!”

Rangobart’s head snapped forward and he straightened where he stood. The crisp command blew the cloud of fear away and a hundred pairs of boots sounded over the gravel.

“Present…arms!”

The sound of spears and blades being presented filled the air behind him. Rangobart raised his right hand over his chest in a crisp salute. Despite the power of the Captain’s command still flowing through him, he blinked in surprise when he finally registered the person riding at the head of the column.

From a skeletal horse wreathed in fog that glowed with sickly green light, a young woman dismounted. Over a pure white blouse, she wore the short, forest green coat of what appeared to be a militant equestrian outfit. A silken mantle flowed out behind her as she came forward. Rather than breeches, the outfit had a matching open-fronted outer skirt over a pleated miniskirt that hung above her knees. Thigh-high white stockings rose out of black boots that gleamed in the morning light.

She wore her long, chestnut hair in low chignon fixed by what appeared to be a feather fashioned from blue crystal ice. A sharp-eyed gaze that matched the colour of her hair swept across them as she approached. Her tall figure clearly displayed the disciplined, yet elegant poise that could only be achieved by one raised as a Noble from birth.

His brother’s description was accurate, yet woefully inadequate. This was no simpering beauty; no grieving, lonely widow. Everything about her radiated confidence, authority and power.

The Captain greeted her as she came to a stop before them.

“Welcome to the Baharuth Empire, Baroness Zahradnik. Captain Germund of the Second Legion. These are the men of the First Division’s Fifth Company.”

“Thank you for your welcome, Captain Germund,” the Baroness replied. “Please, be at ease.”

“At ease, men.”

Rangobart came out of his salute. Baroness Zahradnik sent a pointed gaze in his direction. The Captain cleared his throat.

“This is Rangobart Eck Waraiya Roberbad, a junior mage officer. He’s been assigned as your attaché for the duration of the operation.”

“A liaison officer for a liaison officer?” The young noblewoman’s lips turned up slightly, “I must thank General Kabein for his consideration. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Officer Roberbad.”

“Likewise, my lady,” Rangobart lowered his head in a bow. “I look forward to working with you.”

Lady Zahradnik reached into a large pouch resting over her right hip. She somehow produced a clipboard out of it, so Rangobart could only assume that it was a magical container. She presented it to the Captain with a silk-clad hand.

“Here are the documents for the official transfer of authority of this contingent to the Baharuth Empire,” she said. “Please ensure that everything is in order.”

Baroness Zahradnik stepped aside. Captain Germund looked past her at the Undead column, cheek twitching. After a few moments, his boots crunched over the gravel on the side of the road and the Baroness accompanied him on his inspection. Rangobart stared at her receding figure until a voice sounded from behind.

“Feeling lucky yet, Roberbad?”

Rangobart glanced over his shoulder.

“She’s not one of those random city girls you always chase after, Harlow.”

“You’re right about that,” Harlow gave him a knowing look. “She’s a Frontier Noble for sure. If you do what your pa told you to, she’s either gonna snap you in half or drag your screaming arse back to the Sorcerous Kingdom. Either way, you’re fucked.”

Chuckles rose from the men nearby. Rangobart offered no reply, uncertain that it wasn’t the case. He turned his attention back to Captain Germund and Baroness Zahradnik at the far end of the Undead column, wondering how he could get out of everything in one piece.