Chapter 9

Rangobart continued to accompany Lady Zahradnik as she made her way around the perimeter, dropping off a Death Knight or a Death Warrior at each of the sentry posts.

She didn’t appear to be one for small talk – in fact, she seemed to actively keep it to a minimum – but the way that the Baroness conducted herself was somehow still cordial. Her warm, genuine manner was at great odds with the idea that she was essentially doling out Undead that were apparently powerful enough to ruin small nations.

Another thing that was at great odds with Rangobart’s expectations was how Lady Zahradnik carried herself. Most of the Nobles that he grew up around would press every advantage that they had to achieve their goals. Her position was something that would set most of them drooling at the mouth over the possibilities one would be presented with.

As an official representative of the Sorcerous Kingdom, Lady Zahradnik wielded a phenomenal amount of power. If she wanted to, she could march straight into the Imperial Palace and order the Emperor to dance naked in the middle of Central Avenue’s traffic and he would be legally obliged to comply. The Baroness, however, did not display the slightest hint of wanting to take advantage of her authority.

In a way, her behaviour reflected the Sorcerous Kingdom’s relationship with the Empire, where few major changes had been made since the mysterious nation had become their suzerain. Otherwise, there was no indicator that the Empire had one at all. Rangobart, however, had a hunch that she did not act the way that she did due to a desire to emulate the relationship between their nations, but because she was a noblewoman.

The noblewomen in the Empire tended to act the same way, at least. They moved in the shadows of their husbands, manoeuvring in a manner that was complementary to the objectives of their house. In the Imperial Magic Academy, Rangobart had learned the hard way that this was by no means weak or ineffective: he had several unfortunate run-ins with people like Frianne Gushmond who always left him with his figurative head in a dustbin. With the daughter of House Gushmond, one never knew what was going on until they realised that she had already moved the entire world around them and they had long walked off of the cliff that they were doing their best to avoid.

Even noblewomen from minor houses like Nemel Gran behaved in similar ways, appearing harmless while at the same time manipulating even commoners to act on her behalf. It was an indirect way of fighting where one could never be sure from what angle an attack would come or the form it would take. Rangobart had no idea how they could keep track of what seemed like an endless sea of social subtleties.

The more he thought about it, the more Rangobart was convinced that this was also the case for Lady Zahradnik. In less than a day and only a few hours of interacting with the men, she was well on her way to having most of the Fifth Company wrapped around her finger, including stoic Captain Germund. They had gone from shaking in their boots at the sight of her Undead contingent to ‘Sure, why not?’ when she offered suggestions and gently reordered everything to her liking. Even the coarse Harlow had conspired with her to scare their prisoners witless.

That he could not precisely pin down what she was doing to weave this spell over the company was more than a bit frightening. It meant that Rangobart and likely everyone else in the company possessed no effective defence against her. At the same time, it was amusing since the men probably understood that they were being won over and happily accepted it. She was a manifestation of values and ideals that they collectively shared: perhaps something like a beautiful female version of Ludwig from Dreams of Red.

After making a complete circuit of the camp, Lady Zahradnik divided the Death Cavaliers into pairs and sent them to patrol the area. She watched them ride out with a satisfied look.

“I can’t help but feel that the amount of security this camp has now is a bit extreme,” Rangobart said.

“The Undead do not require sleep,” Lady Zahradnik replied. “Wouldn’t you be bored if you were ordered to just wait all night in a field?”

“Do Undead get bored, my lady?”

“Of course. If one has nothing to do, then they get bored. Boredom is perhaps one of the few things that all intelligent beings share. They are also created to serve, so they are happy to do what they can to help.”

Boredom. Happiness. ‘Murderous hatred’ was probably the emotion most associated with the Undead.

“Does everyone in the Sorcerous Kingdom treat the Undead as you do?”

“I can’t speak for everyone, but those who have adapted to the presence of the Sorcerous Kingdom’s Undead servitors simply treat them as a unique aspect of life in our nation. There are naturally manifested Undead dwelling in our nation, as well.”

“Naturally manifested…” Rangobart frowned, “you mean the same Undead that Adventurers and the like fight? Elder Liches and Vampires and such.”

“Yes, that’s right. We have an Elder Lich who has just started a merchant company while a few others are establishing a research institute. There’s a Zombie schoolteacher. My liege is a Vampire and her Vampire subordinates run the postal service and perform a variety of other functions.”

There were tales of Elder Liches who ruled cities so her first claim seemed plausible enough if one believed the tales to be true. Zombies were mindless so he couldn’t imagine one being a schoolteacher. As for the Vampires…

Rangobart’s gaze traced over the slender line of the young noblewoman’s neck. His eyes rested on her exposed nape for several moments before he realised what he was doing and turned to pointedly look away.

The liaison officer from the Sorcerous Kingdom had a seemingly supernatural beauty to her, but she didn’t have the pale skin, crimson eyes or any other of the telltale signs of a Vampire. She was warm and filled with vitality and it was simply impossible to believe that someone like her could be Undead. Anyone that raised any such suspicions would probably be laughed right out of the army.

“What duties do your company’s Clerics perform in camp?”

“Eh?” Rangobart was forced from his thoughts, “They uh, Priest things, I guess? Their duties primarily revolve around maintaining the health of the men.”

“They don’t hold services or minister to the soldiers?”

“It isn’t an official part of their duties,” Rangobart replied, “but they do serve as chaplains.”

Lady Zahradnik looked over at the five Death Priests standing nearby.

“Does that sound like something you’d like to try?” She asked them.

The Death Priests exchanged glances with one another. One of them opened a tome that looked less like a religious text and more like a cursed grimoire.

“M-my Lady, that’s…”

“It was a joke, Officer Roberbad,” Lady Zahradnik smirked. “I can’t imagine you would believe that they are priests of The Four.”

The evil-looking tome snapped shut. A sigh of relief escaped his lips. Rangobart examined the adornment of the Death Priests. Nothing upon them displayed any recognisable religious iconography.

“If I may ask, my lady, which god do they serve?”

“His Majesty the Sorcerer King, of course.”

Of course. They were created Undead, after all. It did raise questions as to how they were able to cast Divine Magic, however.

Lady Zahradnik instructed the Death Priests to make rounds of the perimeter and see to the needs of the other Undead servitors. She and Rangobart then returned to the centre of the camp, quietly making their way past the outer ring of tents.

Captain Germund was still at his pavilion, though it appeared that his work was winding down. Rangobart checked his pocket watch: it was already two hours to midnight.

“Captain Germund,” Lady Zahradnik said, “I’ve finished assigning the Undead to their respective tasks.”

“Did the men give you any trouble, my lady?”

“Not at all. They appear to be very capable soldiers. Additionally, I’ve sent the remaining Death Cavaliers to patrol a two-kilometre radius around the camp.”

“Hmm…could you recall them before midmorning? They might make a mess of that incoming company without any forewarning.”

Silence fell over them for several seconds before Baroness Zahradnik replied.

“Done.”

“Not bad,” the Captain eyed her appraisingly. “How old are you, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“I turn eighteen in about two weeks.”

“Hunh. Roberbad’s just a bit younger than you and he still can’t figure it out. Even the border brats coming out of the academy don’t have your range. The Sorcerous Kingdom sent someone who really knows what they’re doing – everyone from the Captains on up expected some kind of Undead to show up.”

“I believe His Excellency the Grand Marshal decided I was the best fit for the job,” Lady Zahradnik replied. “The other options being considered were a Frost Giant and a Goblin.”

“…really?”

“They’re both better commanders than I am. Maybe they’ll appear for joint exercises one day.”

Captain Germund snorted.

“One thing at a time, now. The men say you haven’t set up your tent yet. We’ve tidied up the Worker camp so feel free to use the space around us.”

“Thank you, Captain, I’ll go and do that right now.”

The Captain called in a handful of men to help. Rangobart frowned as Lady Zahradnik started producing tent pegs from the large pouch on her right hip, tossing them onto the flattened grass. Coils of rope followed, then a pick hammer. Everyone goggled as she finally pulled out a four-metre-long tent roll.

Several of the men came forward to unroll the tent with doubt-filled expressions, handling the fabric as if they were testing for illusions.

“That’s some magical container you have there,” Rangobart said.

“I’m quite fond of it myself,” Lady Zahradnik replied. “Do they produce similar containers in the Empire?”

“The closest source of magical containers I can think of is the Dwarf Kingdom west of here. They’ve long been on the decline and trade was down to nearly nothing until recently. I doubt they’ll share their secret, though – a monopoly on magical containers is an overwhelming logistical advantage for any nation.”

They raised the tent – which was four metres wide, six metres long and three metres high – and Rangobart waited outside of the open flap. Light suddenly flooded out from the entrance.

“You may enter if you wish, Officer Roberbad,” Lady Zahradnik’s voice drifted out.

He hesitated at the threshold, then furrowed his brow as he watched the Baroness produce more items. She unfolded a table, placing it along one wall of the tent. Two folding chairs with woven seats and backrests followed. Something like a barrel hoop was hung from the centre of the ceiling. Shortly after, the chill winter air turned as warm as a pleasant summer day.

As she unfolded a cot and laid a bedroll over it, someone tapped on the wall of the tent.

“Lady Zahradnik,” Captain Germund’s voice called from the entrance, “was there anything you–or not. Looks like you brought a whole inn with you.”

“This will be my workspace whenever I’m serving in my capacity as an officer on the field,” Lady Zahradnik stood to greet him. “Please come in, Captain Germund.”

The Baroness produced a third folding chair, placing it on one side of the table with another. She gestured to Captain Germund and Rangobart to take their seats.

“It’s my first time using it,” Lady Zahradnik said, “but, after seeing how large it is compared to everyone else’s tents, it feels out of place.”

“If this is out of place,” the Captain said, “then I don’t mind things being a little out of place. Honestly, I don’t think it’s unreasonable: that officer’s pavilion outside is about the same size and no one will expect you to conduct your affairs in the same space as the Imperial Army.”

“That’s a relief to hear. So the Nobles serving in the companies do the same thing?”

“If they’re on extended patrol or some sort of lengthy exercise, yes,” Captain Germund said. “Regular patrols last about a week so we just get our work done in the city garrisons. It’s usually not much since our wives take care of most things at home.”

After laying out a few more pieces of furniture, Lady Zahradnik started setting out bowls, cups and utensils on the table. Two large square containers were placed before them. Rangobart’s eyes widened as she lifted the lid. The Captain leaned back with a short laugh.

“We couldn’t,” he said. “You’re going to spoil us rotten at this rate.”

Within the containers were carefully arranged sandwiches of several varieties, cut into small sections. Aromatic steam rose to entice their appetites.

“Please help yourselves,” the young noblewoman said as she brought out two large decanters. “I brought these from home thinking that it might take three or four days to arrive at the Second Legion headquarters from the border. I’d like to fill these containers with the local fare once we arrive in the city.”

“Well, since you put it that way…”

She lifted one decanter to pour hot tea into their cups. The cap was removed from the second and another aroma filled the tent.

“I guess that does technically work,” Rangobart mused.

“What does?” The Captain asked.

“These are magical decanters that maintain temperature and freshness,” he explained. “They’re usually used for wine and chilled beverages, but Lady Zahradnik is using this one for hot soup.”

With their portions served, the young noblewoman took one of the containers and went outside. The sound of pleasant conversation rose between the Baroness and the men who had helped her set up the tent.

“So Roberbad,” Captain Germund said, “is this what you had in mind when you joined the army? Sitting in a warm tent, being served a home-cooked meal by a fine lady in a camp in the middle of nowhere surrounded by the Undead.”

“No, sir.”

“I apologise for pushing this all on you,” Lady Zahradnik said as she returned to the table.

“No apologies necessary, my lady,” the Captain said. “All this is drilled into us Nobles. Plus, no man in their right mind would complain.”

Rangobart took another sandwich, savouring the zesty tang of the dressing over cured meats and crisp vegetables.

“So,” Captain Germund said, “do you have any questions for us so far? We’ll be in the garrison tomorrow and things are bound to get hectic once we’re there.”

“I suppose I should first ask how Officer Roberbad ended up as my attaché.”

“Oof,” the Captain grimaced, “straight for the kill. Should I tell her?”

“It’s not that I’m unappreciative,” Lady Zahradnik said. “It was just unexpected. Were there some awkward circumstances surrounding his assignment?”

“You could say that…”

“My family put me up to it.”

Captain Germund gave Rangobart a surprised look. Lady Zahradnik’s expression remained as it was.

“What do the Imperial Army’s regulations have to say about that?”

“Count Roberbad is too smart to stick his neck too far out,” Captain Germund said, “so there’s nothing worth charging him over. What he doesn’t seem to realise is that, at the officer level, the Imperial Army is pretty much immune to influence from civilian Nobles. We answer directly to the Emperor and testing us will get them dead or worse. Our paths to power are fundamentally different and all of Count Roberbad’s manoeuvring is just burning away resources for nothing. Officer Roberbad is in the Second Legion because he qualifies for it. The same goes for him being in my company and being assigned as your attaché.”

“Someone needs to tell my lord father that,” Rangobart grumbled. “Every time some of his ‘help’ comes along, my life turns into hell.”

The Captain snorted.

“Why would we tell him? It’s hilarious. At any rate, if this bothers you, my lady…”

“I don’t mind as long as it isn’t a problem for the Imperial Army,” Lady Zahradnik said. “His assignment is actually ideal. As a scion of Re-Estize, magic is not my strong point. Having Officer Roberbad available to explain that side of things will be a blessing.”

Captain Germund popped the last piece of his second sandwich into his mouth.

“Hear that, Roberbad?” He slapped Rangobart on the shoulder, “You might get out of this alive, after all.”