Valkyrie's Shadow

Chapter 17

I hope the recruits are cleaning themselves up properly after training.

The thought dominated Ludmila’s mind as she struggled to maintain a straight face in front of the malodorous madman. Was he one of the librarians that the Sorcerer King had mentioned? Why did His Majesty disappear? At least he had taken Lady Aura and Lord Mare with him. She wouldn’t want any child near the questionable entity standing before her. Her wariness went up three more notches as the old man peered at her suspiciously.

“You,” he said as if he had just noticed her. “Was the Master just here?”

“If you are referring to His Majesty the Sorcerer King, yes.”

Turning his head this way and that, the old man scanned the surroundings again. Did he expect the Sorcerer King to be hiding behind a piece of furniture?

“What does this mean…?” The old man muttered to himself, “Is this a test?”

“His Majesty was looking for a librarian to guide me,” Ludmila said.

“So he wishes to see how familiar I’ve become with this vast repository of arcane lore,” the old man nodded. “Very well. This way.”

With a wave of his hand, he turned and shuffled away. Ludmila followed in silence, unsure if she should do anything to further destabilise the obviously deranged fellow.

He could at least keep himself clean.

For some reason, men never seemed to be aware of their odour until it was overpowering. Many a time in the past, she had to chase her family members into the river with a spear. There was no river here, however, and their exquisite setting only served to exaggerate the old man’s stench.

They entered a wing of the library where the colossal skeleton of a Dragon-like creature was suspended from the frescoed ceiling. The robed man brought them to a long table of polished black wood, which had piles of books, scrolls, and parchments scattered across its surface. A glance at a few of the spines facing her showed that many of the books were written in the same script that Lady Shalltear used to take notes.

“Tell me, child,” he said. “Do you understand what is written upon these tomes?”

“I have seen some of this script on many occasions,” Ludmila replied, “but I am not learned in it.”

“Is that so? Hmm…then let us see if you are worthy of being our Master’s disciple.”

Why am I a disciple now?

An adherent of Surshana could be considered a disciple of Surshana, but she was pretty sure he wasn’t referring to that. A withered and bejewelled hand pushed a parchment across the table towards her. Its content was penned in local script, and the wording and structure indicated that it was written in imperial. She frowned slightly as she read the parchment’s whimsically worded content.

Isn’t this a metaphorical portrayal of Unified Mana Theory?

“So, you understand…”

Ludmila looked up from the parchment. She was reasonably certain that he couldn’t see through her Noble’s mask.

Across the table, the old man’s eyes gleamed with a crazed light. Maybe he simply imagined that she knew. She considered denying his assertion, but the way that he leaned slightly over the table suggested that he would crawl over to accost her if he didn’t get the answer he wanted.

“This is common sense, is it not?” Ludmila shrugged.

“Com–!” The old man made a choking sound, “C-Common sense?! You dare mock me, child?”

“I never intended anything of the sort,” Ludmila replied. “This is truly common sense, woven into the very fabric of society. An echo that reflects the reality of the world. Countless iterations exist, integrated into lore, perception, and everyday life. Truth hidden in plain sight, so to speak.”

The old man stared at her, his face twitching in time with each of her sentences. Ludmila resumed her reading as a long silence stretched between them.

“Why?” A whisper came from across the table, “Why? Why did I…have I been focusing on the wrong thing this entire time? Generations of research, for nothing?”

A tear trickled down the old man’s wrinkled face.

“But you are so young. How did you…no, could it be that you are not as you appear? But to cheat death at that age…are you perhaps some prodigy from the great bastions of learning elsewhere on the continent?”

It was a bit disconcerting how the old man occasionally struck upon the truth amidst his ramblings. Was he truly mad, or was it all a carefully calculated act?

“Common sense, hidden in plain sight…yes, yes, it is all so clear now! Why did I not see it before? Cruel…so cruel in its simplicity! So much time and effort, lost! You must tell me more of what you know!”

“I only really came to see if I could locate some research materials. If you could just point me in the right direction…”

“Of course! I am more than happy to help. Let us speak while we conduct our search.”

With an energy that stood in stark contrast to his wizened appearance, he filled a satchel with blank paper and other writing materials. Ludmila eyed the stuffed container curiously.

“Is there a need for all that?” She asked.

“Indeed,” the old man nodded sagely. “The script employed here is complex beyond conventional reason. At first, I thought it based on ideographs of unknown origin, but then I discerned at least three other writing systems being used at the same time! It is most difficult to decipher; even translation magic only works sporadically while offering gibberish and imagery with no known associations the rest of the time. This script was undoubtedly developed as a safeguard against the uninitiated.”

Isn’t he overcomplicating things?

Those who put on such airs seemed to do that a lot, so it felt highly likely.

“So,” the old man said, “tell me what you know about the subject on that parchment, child.”

“…aren’t you going to ask me about what I’m looking for, first?”

“Hm? Oh, yes, what is it that you’re looking for?”

“I’m searching for material on Rangers.”

Her guide’s voice immediately turned distasteful.

“Rangers? True practitioners of the arts do not concern themselves with such mundane occupations…or are you perhaps seeking information on alchemical ingredients? Mystical materials, perhaps?”

“I can’t say that I’m not interested in what you mentioned,” Ludmila said, “but I’d like to start from the beginning to mitigate the risk of missing something important.”

“Taking the cautious approach, I see,” the old man said. “I hope you do understand that this may add decades or centuries to your search.”

Fortunately for her, the old man didn’t seem to have any Job Classes with specialised communication abilities. A civilian Noble would have probably taken offence at her reply and become far more difficult to deal with.

“I would still rather take my time than make any mistakes,” Ludmila said. “What aspects of the subject that you shared with me are you studying?”

“Aspects…” The old man’s gnarled fingers came up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “I wasn’t aware that there were aspects. Not specifically. If I were to name one, it would be in the fields of necromancy and one of the greatest taboos known to magic.”

“Well, I cannot say what is and isn’t known to magic, so what about the necromantic aspects?”

“It is an old project of mine,” the old man sighed. “One that I haven’t been able to make any headway in for years. I was trying to develop a spell capable of commanding powerful Undead such as Death Knights and Elder Liches. I admit it was just as much for the sake of the Empire’s national power as it was for my own interests, but I suppose it doesn’t matter now.”

The Empire?

Ludmila assessed the strength of the old man. He was stronger than the Royal Army’s Elder Liches. As far as she knew, only one magic caster in the Empire’s history had ever achieved that level of power.

Should I bring it up? Probably not.

Frianne provided some details about the rapid decline of the Head Imperial Court Mage’s power and influence in the Empire. While they weren’t in the Empire, her recognition might put him on the defensive. Veering into any Baharuth-related topic in depth was likely to remind her why she disliked the man, anyway.

“If you were a Necromancer who dwelt in the Empire,” Ludmila said, “the Katze Plains would have surely been the ideal laboratory to study the primal mechanisms behind necromancy.”

“One would think so, but the Empire is a very practical place. They are more interested in suppressing the propagation of the Undead and it was difficult to justify any long-term studies within that negative energy zone.”

“So they only value the application of knowledge rather than the exploration of it.”

“Precisely so!” Fluder Paradyne grew animated, “The Court Council was always budget this and risk that. We will never know how far the Empire might have gotten if they had thrown open the doors of knowledge instead of gingerly opening it a crack once in a while.”

Did he simply assume that she knew who he was? One might have thought it reasonable considering how famous he was throughout the region, but it wasn’t as if his name came with a painting.

“As the country’s leadership, it seems perfectly reasonable for the Court Council to take precautions.”

“There are precautions and then there are precautions,” the Wizard’s voice turned sour. “In the case of necromantic studies, it was mostly political. They feared that the Temples would turn the people against the Imperial Administration if they discovered that we were dabbling in necromancy out of the fear that we would serve as the catalyst of an Undead calamity. Complete and utter rubbish!”

“I would agree with you if you were working with Tier Magic,” Ludmila said. “But other avenues do carry a real risk.”

“Other avenues, hm?” Fluder stroked his beard, “I haven’t heard any mention of those in a very long time. What avenue in particular are you referring to?”

“Anything that influences the gradient of primal energies in an area,” Ludmila replied. “Established equilibriums are difficult to upset, but, once they are, one may not appreciate the new equilibrium that manifests nor would they enjoy the process that leads to it. Also…”

“Also…?” The Wizard’s stench came closer.

“You stopped walking.”

Fluder looked up at her in confusion for several seconds before turning around to move again. Was he even looking for what she had asked about?

“So this ‘primal energy’ you speak of is related to the nature of souls?”

“Consider how regions with sharp elemental gradients manifest beings related to the dominant form of primal energy,” Ludmila said. “Elementals reflect the nature of their element, do they not? They are merely agents of the whole that are capable of enacting change upon the world.”

“Hoh…I believe I see the connection that you’re making. Fire Elementals enacting the ‘will’ of fire, is that right?”

“That is one way to put it.”

“Agents of the whole…parts of the whole…meaning that they are fundamentally one and the same…but to what end?”

“Fire acts as fire does,” Ludmila told him. “It is simply nature. I’ve found that the easiest way to consider things is not as ‘will’, but as ‘ecology’.”

The Wizard brought across the entry hall of the library and to the wing beyond it. There, they ascended to the second floor, walking past a giant model of some sort of sailing vessel. It had such a whimsical design that it was hard to believe it could be functional. Its sails swept out like wings, giving it an arrow-like shape. Tiny humanoid figures stood upon the deck and went about their tasks in brief loops, and she estimated that the vessel would have been nearly a kilometre long if built to full scale.

“Considering things as an ‘ecology’ is too haphazard,” Fluder said dismissively. “Imprecise. To develop a better understanding of any phenomenon, one should break it down into its basic components. Superfluous and inefficient parts can then be removed, making everything better. Being able to understand every piece of a puzzle and reshape them to one’s will is the essence of mastery.”

I suppose a country like the Empire is what happens when you have someone like this influencing its direction.

“Then is this why you pursue your studies?” Ludmila asked, “To use your findings to reshape the world to your will?”

“Knowledge itself is the goal,” the Wizard raised a finger, “for I seek the abyss of magic!”

Where have I heard that before?

“Out of curiosity,” Ludmila said, “do you perform any official functions here?”

“Official functions…? Yes, in fact. The Master appointed me as the head of magic item development in the Sorcerous Kingdom.”

Ludmila glowered at the old man’s back. No wonder he sounded so familiar.

“How is that coming along?” She asked.

“There isn’t much worth mentioning,” the Wizard’s hunched shoulders rose and fell in a shrug. “The citizens of the Sorcerous Kingdom know nought of the wonders of Nazarick, nor have they cultivated an appreciation for the arcane.”

“The Sorcerous Kingdom has officially existed for less than two years,” Ludmila noted. “Don’t you think it’s unreasonable to expect drastic change in so short a period?”

“If only that were the sole problem,” Fluder snorted. “I am facing resistance – resistance! – to my efforts to advance the cause of arcanistry throughout the realm. The savage Demihuman tribes may be forgiven for their ignorance, but even the so-called aristocrats of E-Rantel are refusing to embrace true civilisation!”

“Would you care to elaborate on that last part? As far as I know, the aristocracy is compliant with the Sorcerous Kingdom’s domestic policies.”

Fluder stopped and turned to face her. A resentful look shadowed his features.

“Compliant, yes. That is what I was told. But, for some inexplicable reason, the Sorcerous Kingdom was founded using the laws of Re-Estize. Therein lies the problem: that primitive nation has absolutely no legislation that will help me in my cause. These Nobles are ‘compliant’ because nothing says that they aren’t! New legislation must be enacted, but the power to do so lies in the hands of the very aristocrats who bar the path to progress!”

It seemed that the ‘head of magic item development’ was an honorary title, at best. She always wondered why the missives she received from him always lacked any sort of weight. In his infinite wisdom, the Sorcerer King had appointed the former Head Imperial Court Mage to a powerless position.

“Have you considered cultivating an interest in arcanistry amongst the population?” Ludmila asked, “That is where the path to legal adoption begins, after all.”

“I have,” the Wizard answered, “but I’ve achieved minimal, if any, success. The Nobles in the west aren’t interested, much like their counterparts in Re-Estize. Countess Jezne ignores my attempts at correspondence outright! Countess Wagner is a Merchant through and through: she seeks to use magic as a shortcut to profit. In the south, Countess Corelyn pours all of her support into social programs and the growth of the Temples; I cannot comprehend why she would embark on such emotional and wrongheaded ventures.”

Ludmila idly entertained the notion of flipping Fluder off of the balcony. It probably wouldn’t work since she didn’t know any arcane casters who didn’t have flight magic if they were capable of learning it. Maybe she could tie his beard to the railing.

“The worst of them all is Zahradnik.”

“Oh?” Ludmila arched an eyebrow, “What did she do?”

“Too much!” The Wizard grated, “She was quick to take advantage of what the Sorcerous Kingdom offered, and, using her newfound wealth and power, she managed to lure the majority of the Duchy’s arcane casters to her territory.”

“How concerning. Did she dispose of them out of superstitious fear?”

“She presumably recruited them to develop local industries such as alchemy and item enchantment. There’s even a rudimentary ‘academy’ being set up there.”

“That sounds like just the thing you need to set things in motion,” Ludmila said. “Why are you making her efforts sound like an obstacle?”

Fluder sighed and rested an arm over the nearby railing.

“Oh, I had high hopes for her, I admit,” he said. “But she ended up being the same as Countess Corelyn. Social welfare sits at the top of her list of priorities. She has all of those precious mages that she’s stolen away working to create magical lighting, temperature regulation items, and other knickknacks to improve the ‘quality of life’ of her subjects. It is a complete waste of so much magical talent!”

“But wouldn’t it cultivate an appreciation for the arcane? Change takes time; this seems like a good way to ease people into it.”

“Her methods are far too passive,” Fluder told her. “She has all the resources and power she needs to force things through, yet she refuses to use it. It is infuriating to witness. Strong leaders like Jircniv are necessary for true progress; instead, I have a gaggle of widows and orphan girls to work with.”

“To be fair,” Ludmila offered, “they are former Nobles of Re-Estize. The Humans of Re-Estize and the Empire aren’t too far removed from those ‘savage Demihuman tribes’ that you mentioned previously.”

The Wizard settled down slightly. He let out a rasping chuckle as he stroked his beard.

“Not far removed, hm? To you and I perhaps. But you must understand that, for generations, I have dedicated my life to guiding the Empire along the right path. I have heard it all before. The excuses; the reservations; the politicking, superstition, and fear. To my great regret, I was too soft with the Empire. Like an overindulgent parent, I let them do things their way. By the time my boy Jircniv appeared to cleanse the Empire and set it back on the right course, it was too late. Too late.”

Fluder shook his head sadly and resumed walking. Ludmila stared at his back for a moment before following him, wondering what he meant.

“You appeared in the Empire for a specific purpose,” she said. “An individual of your capabilities could have the ear of any country. One with far greater wealth and industry. An advanced country that would be more receptive to your guidance. Why did you decide to embark on your venture in a region of the world that was so recently razed to the ground?”

“That is precisely the reason why I came,” Fluder replied. “You’ve listed several benefits of establishing myself elsewhere, but they are, in reality, liabilities. Obstacles. Institutions establish order and the powers that be become entrenched in their thinking. Better to start anew. A blank slate, so to speak. Unfortunately, it wasn’t exactly an original idea. The Vaiself Horde came sweeping in from the ruins of Karnassus and the Theocracy was quick to capitalise on the situation, as well.”

“The Great Seeding, you mean.”

Fluder smirked.

“A rather hopeful way to frame the cannibalisation of a smoking carcass, don’t you think? Well, we all know how that turned out.”

The Wizard’s steps turned considerably lighter, as if the result amused him. He turned down a row of bookshelves, finally stopping at a section seemingly indistinguishable from any other.

“If my memory serves me correctly…ah, here we are.”

Sheets of paper rustled as Fluder rummaged through his satchel. He produced a small booklet and licked a finger before leafing through its contents. Ludmila examined the spines of the books on the shelves as the Wizard muttered to himself. She had a poor sense of value, but she thought that every one of them looked priceless.

“A lot of these books are identical to one another,” she said. “Does that mean they’re volumes in the same set?”

“That would be the logical conclusion,” Fluder replied absently. “But…this library is quite devious. I’ve found that the majority of the tomes stored here are replicas of one another.”

“Replicas?” Ludmila furrowed her brow, “Everything here looks incalculably valuable.”

“A testament to the unfathomable reality of this place. Books that would beggar entire Empires are used as decoys to distract thieves from the true treasures hidden among them.”

“What do these treasures look like?”

“Who knows? When I first gained entry to these esteemed halls, I hungrily seized upon anything that hinted at knowledge of the arcane. Now, you come by and ask for books concerning Rangers. Perhaps everything in this Great Library of Ashurbanipal is a treasure to someone.”

Over the next few hours, Fluder indicated a dozen books that were potentially related to her search. She brought them over to the nearest table, wondering how she should proceed.

“Thank you for your help,” Ludmila said. “Would you like to share a late meal with me?”

“I suppose it wouldn’t hurt,” the Wizard replied. “I haven’t had a meal in over a week.”

“You’re using magic to skip meals?”

“Meals take up precious time. As does sleep. In this case, if we could continue our discussion from before, I wouldn’t consider it a waste.”

Ludmila silently pondered whether the invitation had been a mistake. She was hoping to get him to help translate some of the text. For Fluder’s part, he looked like he didn’t have a care in the world as she laid out the dishes.

“I take it you’re used to having an Apprentice see to your personal needs back in the Empire? Or did you keep household servants?”

“Apprentices,” the Wizard didn’t look up from his reading. “Household servants weren’t authorised to enter the Ministry of Magic. Gushmond was the last before I left. Before that, it was Noia.”

“…did you always choose female Apprentices to serve as personal attendants?”

“Of course.”

Of course.

That should have probably been expected. Even mundane vocations were the same way. For some stupid reason, she thought that a place of higher learning might stray from social mores.

A frown crossed her lips as Fluder reached for a roll of bread.

“I assume you have the Clean spell or something similar.”

“Not at all,” the Wizard replied. “I have no time to spend learning unnecessary spells. Now, you were saying something about the Katze Plains being an ideal laboratory?”

“Negative energy is one of the primal energies of the world,” Ludmila finished laying out their meal and sat down across from her guide. “And it just so happens that phenomena related to negative energy are quite distinct to those who exist on the opposite axis. Namely, the living.”

“I see,” Fluder nodded. “That much is true. But what observations did you expect us to make? What do they have to do with what we discussed?”

Ludmila considered her response. She had chosen the topic of negative energy since she had more experience studying it than any other form of primal mana, but she also didn’t want to give too much away.

“Don’t you think that the manifestation of Undead entities is similar to the manifestation of Elementals and other natural spirits?”

“You are not the first to bring this comparison to my attention,” the Wizard said. “There is a notable difference in these manifestations, however. Namely, the vast majority of Undead entities are mindless. Lacking in sentience and sapience. Thus, it stands to reason that they do not possess a soul.”

“What of those that aren’t mindless? Elder Liches and Vampires, for instance?”

“The conventions would state that they possess souls.”

“Then take my use of ‘ecology’,” Ludmila said. “Positive energy also has an ecology; one that living beings consider ‘natural’. Living ecologies similarly have entities that are considered mindless and thus without souls.”

“Even so, they are born through natural processes.”

“They are born through processes considered natural by the living. Once again, we are speaking of primal energies. Negative energy is as much a part of our world as positive or elemental energy is. The manifestation of ‘wild’ Undead is a natural process.”

“So the manifestation of powerful, intelligent Undead beings is effectively the formation of a soul through a process that employs negative energy. Hmm…if one pursues this avenue of thought, we may conjecture that this process may be usurped with the assistance of the arts to enact a most intriguing transformation. I must explore this…”

Without another word, the Wizard rose from his seat and left. Ludmila stared at the half-eaten roll on the table. Hopefully, she had the right books.