Birthright: Act 4, Chapter 22

Chapter 22

Unfortunately for Ludmila, leaving the Wagner Manor did not have the effect of leaving the agitating feelings behind. As she walked along the street, she glanced over her shoulder several times wondering if there was a dark cloud following her, but the bright afternoon skies only returned her foul mood with indifference. The Undead sentinels and even the servants she strode past did not seem to react to her either, simply continuing on their way to fulfil whatever errands they had been tasked with.

Her steps echoed harshly against the buildings and nearby wall as she meandered through the district, wrestling with the emotions swirling within. After Ludmila had gone a quarter of the way around, the sound of a second set of distant steps joined her own.

“My lady!” Aemilia’s voice called out from behind her, “Please, slow down!”

Ludmila’s furious pace faltered, the realization that she had simply left her lady’s maid behind dampening her feelings for a moment. The steps settled in behind her, but Aemilia remained silent as she caught up and followed.

“I suppose I should thank Wagner for letting you know that I stormed out like that,” Ludmila was still having trouble modulating her voice.

“No, my lady,” Aemilia replied. “I felt…something…and left the servants hall to see if there were any problems, only to find out that you had left. If I may ask, my lady: is something the matter?”

“There is,” Ludmila said. “I heard something that did not sit well with me, and now I feel…I lack a proper way to describe it. It is like a disgusting, oily film that has coated me from head to toe – within, anger that rises from somewhere that threatens to set it all aflame.”

It felt so real that she had to constantly fight to keep from unconsciously checking her skin and hair and, being unable to cast it away, she could only walk along as her skin crawled. She wondered if she was going crazy; anyone that heard her description would certainly believe it to be the case.

“I-is it magic?” Aemilia asked, “Did someone cast a spell on you? Maybe you should visit the cathedral…”

“I don’t think so,” she replied. “Threatening or casting hostile magic on others is a criminal act – no one would risk doing so in a hall full of nobles…”

Or would they? The sprinkling of questionable actions that she had heard about over the weeks, finally culminating in Count Völkchenheim’s tale, was now casting the shadow of doubt on everything.

“None of the others seemed so affected, at any rate,” Ludmila continued. “Lady Corelyn said that it had something to do with being a certain sort of noble, but what she described is only half of what I am feeling right now. She said nothing about this…ire. Perhaps they felt the same way, but have become accustomed to managing it.”

Ludmila was already shocked into disgusted silence long before the end of Count Völkchenheim’s tale. She was barely able to parse any of it: not the motives, nor the methods or the outcomes. It did not help that the haze of anger had painted her vision white as his account reached its conclusion.

She understood each individual point in the story but, for the life of her, she simply could not understand why they would do it, or how House Fassett could even bring themselves to act in such a manner. It flew in the face of everything she had been raised to believe by her family, friends and mentors. Even more so than that, Ludmila’s irrevocable sense of duty, impartial justice and unflinching fortitude was something that was etched into her soul – it was her very existence, and what she had heard was anathema to her.

“You are stronger than they are, my lady,” Aemilia offered helpfully. “Maybe it’s like how those who are more established in their craft or more advanced as an Adventurer express their abilities more clearly. At least I think that’s what happened to me: when it happened to you, it roused me as well. We should know for sure if we check the staff in the manor.”

Aemilia’s suggestion seemed reasonable. Ever since Lady Shalltear had brought her to the realization that she had these abilities, her continued experimentation surrounding the application of them had opened her mind to the idea that such abilities were actually a common thing in the everyday lives of the people – that they had long since incorporated them to the point that it seemed natural, and only overtly supernatural feats were considered special.

The sensations continued to follow her even after she had rationalized and framed them in a tentative manner, however. Cutting across the front of the Royal Villa and through its pristine gardens, they were back in front of her manor in a matter of minutes. Ludmila stopped to look at the two Death Knights keeping watch over the entrance. When Aemilia mentioned that it might have been an ability that spurred her from the servant’s hall of Wagner’s manor, she thought her two Undead footmen should have come running straight to her through the same ability; they had been with her for as long as Aemilia had. On the other hand, Lady Shalltear had mentioned that the Undead were immune to mind-affecting abilities so it was entirely possible that, since it was driven on strong emotions, that the Death Knights were simply not affected.

A wide-eyed Terah appeared immediately after one of the footmen opened the door.

“My Lady!” She came forward worriedly, “are you alright?”

Behind her, the Linum sisters poked their heads out into the hall.

“Did everyone else feel that as well?” Ludmila decided not to dance around the topic: they would know what she was referring to if it had happened.

“No, my lady,” Terah shook her head. “The Linum sisters and I felt it, but Terrence and Rodney were out on errands and did not come running back. If I may ask…what happened, exactly?”

That her Human footmen had not been affected did not come as a surprise – they had been hired while she was away and worked in the city exclusively. Ludmila barely saw them, so there was little time to develop any sort of connection: she was simply their employer and nothing more. She wondered if the receptiveness of her vassals could be used as a gauge of loyalty, or if it was simply a matter of time before she established her authority over them.

“I received some unsettling information,” Ludmila said. “I believe it is something that needs to be addressed soon…but I am not sure how.”

“I see,” Terah said. “I figured it had something to do with Baroness Wagner’s lunch – it ran far longer than a simple meal between friends.”

“It is still ongoing,” Ludmila told her, “but I could not stay. I…was unable to handle any more of what I had learned there.”

“If you need some time to yourself, my lady, I can postpone our afternoon meeting…”

“No,” Ludmila immediately answered, “I cannot afford to fall behind on my work – more and more things keep appearing to demand my attention. Luzi, check the letter room for messages.”

“Yes, my lady,” Aemilia said and stepped into the office nearby.

Ludmila attempted to refresh herself in her solar by taking a bath, but the disgusting sensation she felt over her did not wash away so obligingly. She returned to the main floor of the manor in more comfortable garb to see if she could get some work done. Even leaving the meeting at the Wagner manor early, there were scant few hours left in the afternoon to catch up with her administrative duties in the drawing room. Settling into familiar routines and organizing her thoughts did not help her mental state in the slightest: what had manifested during lunch remained with her even as she focused on her work.

Aemilia appeared thirty minutes after Ludmila had started, carrying in the tea set upon its familiar silver tray. Ludmila glanced to the side and saw that her maid still wore the same look of concern that she had on the way back to the manor. Ludmila leaned back on her chair, letting out a sigh as she watched Aemilia prepare tea.

“Am I still doing it?” Ludmila asked.

“It…? Oh, yes,” Aemilia replied. “It’s a very odd feeling, my lady, even now that I know what it is. Unlike your usual fortifying influence, this is quite agitating…”

Ludmila had shared a few of her findings with her lady’s maid in weeks past. As limited as it was, it was useful to have someone close to her that was benefitting from the effects of her abilities to provide feedback – unlike the generally tight-lipped Undead in her service that were also sometimes beneficiaries of her abilities. For Aemilia’s part, she had not even questioned that it existed at all or thought it was out of sorts. If anything, it only added to her maid’s impossibly lofty image of her.

“I need to get this under control somehow,” Ludmila muttered. “I must be inconveniencing everyone with this. Are you even going to be able to sleep through my constant prodding with this…ability?”

“Well, we can hardly blame you, my lady,” Aemilia straightened from her work as she replied. “If it has something to do with what you are…being in the service of a great noble is something that any of us would desire.”

“Countess Corelyn hasn’t described this problem, though. Her own abilities are more…normal. They could even be overlooked if you didn’t know what was going on.”

“Perhaps it’s not the same, my lady?”

Aemilia set the teacup down in front of her with a loud clack, which made her wince. She raised her hand in front of her face in bewilderment.

“Apologies, my lady,” she frowned down at the table, “I don’t know why I put the cup down so roughly.”

Ludmila had a pretty good idea: her ability, which was agitating her subordinates, was giving them a taste of what she had been feeling since lunch. She suspected that the other maids were expending this aggression on their chores as well.

“What was that you were saying about not being the same?” She asked Aemilia.

“Oh, yes,” Aemilia looked away from the cup back to Ludmila. “Since you mentioned Lady Shalltear told you that it was the ability to command, perhaps it’s related to martial vocations? Everyone knows that Frontier Nobles are ‘different’ somehow but, until I came into your service, I didn’t truly know what it meant beyond people simply saying so.”

“So rather than look to other nobles for comparison,” Ludmila said, “I should look elsewhere for my answers?”

“Yes, that’s exactly it, my lady,” Aemilia replied. “In the old stories, Frontier Nobles led their retinues and armies to defend the nation from threats – Demihumans, monsters, bandits and even waged war on other Human territories. You are also strong enough to be an Adventurer, which is not something most nobles can claim. Rather than the…soft…nobles of the interior, you might want to look to great captains and generals. To the stories of warrior kings and marcher lords – everything that I’ve seen of you appears to point in that direction.”

“The Great Houses of Re-Estize have long stopped being marcher lords,” Ludmila muttered, “even though they still fashion themselves with those titles...”

“I agree, my lady,” Aemilia nodded. “They are no longer the same as what their titles originally demanded from them. I’ve heard that the Legions of the Empire have fighting nobles in their ranks…they might be the most promising lead?”

“So,” Ludmila smirked, “in the meantime, I will have four inexplicably angry maids buzzing around the manor like disturbed hornets, controlling a bunch of Undead. Gods know what will happen to me bottling these feelings up until I can arrange a meeting with one of those rumored imperial nobles.”

Aemilia momentarily made a strange face at Ludmila’s words before clearing her throat and wiping the expression away.

“Then…Lady Shalltear?” She asked, “It may be improper to request an audience with your liege for such a strange issue, but…”

“If I meet with her, I would definitely have to explain why it is happening,” Ludmila replied.

Aemilia’s confused expression prompted Ludmila to explain further.

“The House of Lords is attempting to resolve the source of this issue without the intervention of the Royal Court,” she told her.

“…are things really that bad?” Aemilia asked.

“To be honest, I don’t know,” Ludmila admitted. “Lady Shalltear has shown me so much patience and favour that I cannot help but feel that the other nobles’ perception of the King’s Cabinet to be at great odds with my own experience with their members. Even Lord Mare and Lady Aura do not seem like such fearsome people. But the inner nobles are more well attuned to politics than I am, and are most likely better at reading others in these matters. Countess Jezne has navigated the intricacies of this realm for longer than both of us combined have lived, and she holds an advisory position on the Royal Court besides. Surely there’s something that she sees that I do not.”

“Then it is a choice,” Aemilia said. “A choice between the trust that you hold in your liege, and the will of the House of Lords.”

Ludmila stared at her maid: Aemilia’s decisive tone was entirely out-of-character to her usual complementary demeanor.

“Apologies for the presumption, my lady,” she bowed, “but I feel that this must be said. As your faithful lady’s maid – wherever you lead, I will follow. I trust that my lady will make the right decisions, and I will do whatever I must to assist you in your duties. I know that this is rarely the true relationship between liege and vassal…but shouldn’t it be that way as well?”

Her lady’s maid collected the lukewarm tea that had remained untouched throughout their conversation. Setting everything securely back on the silver tray, Aemilia walked away towards the entrance of the drawing room.

“Thank you, Aemilia.”

“I am at your service, my lady.”