Heretic Spellblade 2 Page 4

  But as Terrius suggested, Narime had time. Time to force her way into any negotiations and establish the truth of any heresy that might or might not have happened.

  She wasn’t about to allow her home to be destroyed.

  Chapter 4

  The weeks rolled on, and winter showed no signs of thawing. This year proved to be a particularly cold winter. Snow piled up on the walls of Gharrick Pass and Fei trained her knights by having them routinely clear out the snowfall that built up overnight in the courtyards.

  For Nathan, that meant he found few excuses to avoid his paperwork. Now, he managed two fortresses and the military of an entire county, Nathan often found his desk inundated with paperwork. His administrator, Kuda, handled a lot of the financial issues, but the military side of things was all on him.

  The growing tensions between the Empire and the Federation meant that nobody wanted to be responsible for a mistake that allowed an invasion to take place. Technically, Nathan had a subordinate in Fort Taubrum who should handle most of this. And she did, but she was also very good at managing upward.

  Which was code for dumping everything that she didn’t want to handle on him.

  So, Nathan found himself stuck in his office most days. Sometimes snow drifted past the window, at least on the days that he could see out of it. The rest of the time, he was largely alone from morning to dusk. One of his Champions would pay him a visit around lunchtime. If they didn’t, usually one of his beastkin knights would steal the opportunity to talk to him.

  Supposedly, there was a war on. Two, in fact. Nathan felt that the world had frozen in time.

  It wasn’t a new feeling for him. He had seen campaigns and wars grind into nothing due to the frozen chill of the changing seasons. As a Bastion, the calm was an illusion. Demons didn’t care about the weather, and a glacial January could produce a nation-threatening disaster overnight.

  A buzzing noise emanated from a corner of the room. Dropping his pen, Nathan rose and wandered over to the strange machine spitting out beeps. It was part of the castle’s long-range wireless system, which he had installed recently.

  He pressed a button on the side, and the beeping transitioned into a low whine. A few moments later, a voice echoed in the room.

  “—hate waiting for this thing to connect. I don’t even know if it’s working,” a female voice mumbled. “Kuda used to play with these buttons, but I don’t know what they even do.” An unladylike noise came over the wireless, presumably her growling.

  “Hello, Anna,” Nathan said.

  There was a long pause. “How long have you been listening?” Anna asked.

  “Long enough to know that you probably shouldn’t call anybody important using the wireless.”

  “You’re an ass, you know that.” Anna grumbled inaudibly, the whining of the wireless overwhelming her complaints. “And are you admitting that you’re not important?”

  “Given you just returned from the Imperial Diet, I’d say I’m not. I don’t run the Empire,” Nathan replied, referring to the ruling body of nobles that supposedly governed things.

  “Run the Empire? Hah. If the Diet ran the Empire, I’d have been collared as a child and would be working as a maid for Falmir or the Federation,” Anna said, her voice pure acid. “Those old buffoons can barely run their own territory.”

  “I take it your trip to the capital wasn’t productive,” Nathan said.

  “Things happened. Not much, but enough. I don’t trust the wireless enough to talk about it over this line, even with encryption. Jump in a carriage and keep me company while I bitch,” Anna said.

  Nathan chuckled. “Shouldn’t you be visiting me? I have the big castle.”

  “I’ve been away from home for weeks now.” Anna’s tone brooked no compromise. “I’m sleeping in my own bed. Lounging on my own sofas. Drinking my fancy tea. And being served by maids who I don’t suspect may stab me if I turn my back on them for too long.”

  “That bad, huh?” Nathan asked. He shook his head. He’d had an inkling that tensions were high in the capital, but this sounded worse than he feared.

  “Nobody actually tried to kill me, although your father spent more time glaring at me than I think I’ve collectively been glared at in the rest of my life.” Anna paused, and Nathan suspected she was choosing her words carefully. “He doesn’t think much of you, does he?”

  “If he didn’t think much of me, he wouldn’t be so upset with you,” Nathan said. “It’s more accurate to say that he hates me and everything I stand for.”

  “Fair point. I’ll see you tonight?” Anna’s tone lifted, and Nathan knew that refusing would hurt her.

  “I’ll summon Seraph and hop in a carriage once she arrives.”

  “Good.”

  Nathan closed the connection, then opened a new one to Fort Taubrum. One of Seraph’s aides answered, and he passed on his request for her to join him at Gharrick Pass. She could use the gateway between the two fortresses to teleport across within minutes.

  Afterward, he leaned out of his office door and ordered one of the beastkin standing guard to ready a horseless carriage.

  Then he returned to his paperwork, but his mind was elsewhere.

  Nathan’s father wasn’t his true father. At least, not in his memories.

  When he had been sent back in time, Nathan had taken over the life of a different man. Nathan was born “Nathan Martel” and had replaced a man called “Nathan Straub.” But it wasn’t just the name that matched between this timeline and the last.

  Nathan’s father had been a Bastion in his timeline, and somehow his new father was also a Bastion. Both fathers wanted little to do with their son, although for radically different reasons. Both were politically active. Both had deep-seated issues with non-humans.

  And Nathan had become a sort of “wunderkind Bastion” in both timelines. He found it strange how history seemed to be repeating itself, even as he took over somebody else’s future.

  A knock sounded at the door, and Nathan realized he had lost himself in thought. He looked up and saw a gorgeous woman slip inside his office. She wore a black and crimson dress that hugged her figure—she referred to it as a cheongsam, and it was a normal garment in her homeland. Slits were cut high into the sides of the dress, revealing plenty of olive skin. Her black hair hung freely down to her waist and shimmered in the light of the room as she approached Nathan.

  “One day you’re going to spend too long staring at a woman’s assets, and they’re going to stab you while you’re sizing up their breasts,” the woman said. She slipped on top of Nathan’s desk.

  “It hasn’t happened yet,” Nathan said. “And I wasn’t looking at your chest.” It was modest, and her dress greatly accentuated its appearance.

  A pair of jade gems sat in her collarbone. They were the mark of her power. Seraph was Nathan’s only duogem Champion, and she held an important position in his hierarchy as a result.

  Also, she was far more experienced than his other Champions. Fei and Sen were both young and newly recruited, and his other Champion, Sunstorm, lacked talent and interest in anything that didn’t involve stabbing things or cutting off heads.

  If Nathan’s brain melted overnight and he became incapable of doing anything except fighting, Seraph could run things well enough that he doubted anybody would notice his absence. In fact, they’d probably be impressed at how much smoother things ran without Nathan procrastinating on his paperwork.

  “You should,” Seraph said. “It’s rather easy to hide a small blade in even my chest. Staring at my legs for too long leaves me plenty of openings.”

  “Is there anywhere safe to stare at you without leaving an opening?” Nathan asked.

  “At my back, while I’m on all fours, I imagine. Not that I’ve tested that.” Seraph smirked.

  Nathan didn’t rise to her provocation. Unlike his other Champions, Seraph’s teasing was just that. Teasing.

  “Anna’s returned. She’s in a foul mood, but has some n
ews from the Diet,” he said, rising from his chair. “There’s a carriage prepared outside.”

  “Are we taking anybody else?”

  “Should we?”

  Seraph paused as they stepped into the corridor. Her eyes fell on the two wolfgirls nervously standing guard outside his office.

  “Sen, probably. You seem comfortable telling her a few secrets I don’t yet know,” Seraph said. “I’d suggest Sunstorm, but I doubt she’d listen to a word that Anna says about politics.”

  It bothered him that Seraph knew there was something different about Nathan’s relationship with Sen and Sunstorm. The two of them had their personalities partially overwritten from his original timeline, and he could therefore talk to them about his foreknowledge. He didn’t realize he’d been so conspicuous about it.

  “Don’t look at me like that. I’m not the only person who’s noticed that you tell them more. I can’t help but wonder if it has something to do with why they changed sides so quickly and easily.” A smile floated across Seraph’s lips.

  Nathan sent one of the knights off to find Sen. Then he and Seraph made their way outside, making small talk as they walked.

  A shiver ran along Seraph’s body when she stepped outside the warmth of the keep. The sky was overcast, and snow piled up in the corners of the castle courtyard. Soldiers huddled around burning braziers. The courtyard was largely empty and had been cleared of snow that morning.

  An unattended carriage sat in the center of the courtyard. It had no horses nearby, but it didn’t need them. An engine powered by magic resided within the undercarriage.

  Everyday life on Doumahr relied on amenities powered by magic, such as this horseless carriage. Enchantments within kettles and lights made life much easier than relying on fire or casting spells individually. Any noble could hook up their home with a magical generator and have lighting at all hours. Even the peasantry had a magical torch or two that allowed them to continue to work and play after dark.

  The horseless carriage was more complex than most devices, however. The same could be said about the wireless. It contained an internal magical generator and was self-powered. Most magical devices either relied on an external generator or had a limited lifespan. An internal generator gave the horseless carriage longer range, as it didn’t need to stop so that horses could rest or to refill magic reserves.

  But magical generators became temperamental the farther they were from a leyline. This close to the binding stone, the horseless carriage could move across the county without limitations. But farther south, in the peaceful farming region that Fei grew up, the horseless carriages were prone to breaking down.

  The generators relied on magic from the world around them, and the leylines were the primary source of magic in the world. Nathan didn’t know where that magic came from, but he knew that Doumahr relied heavily on it.

  “Figures that she’d make us go to her when it’s this cold,” Sen grumbled as she joined them outside. “While we’re freezing our asses off, she’ll be sitting beside a toasty fire.”

  “She probably went through the same thing coming back from the capital,” Nathan said. “Let’s go.”

  The trip to Trantia—Anna’s hometown and the capital of the county—went well. Trantia itself hadn’t changed since Nathan’s last visit. He suspected the population had swelled, but the sprawl of the town hid any changes.

  Pulling up outside Anna’s manor, a pair of servants greeted them. Both were cat beastkin, and they wore the same black and white vests and pleated pants that they did in spring. Like all beastkin in the Empire, they were gainfully employed rather than slaves. Working for Anna ensured they were well paid relative to most people in the town.

  “Not updating the fashion for your servants?” Nathan asked as he entered the sitting room that Anna was in.

  “No, because nobody can agree on what it is,” Anna replied. “Half the nobles of the capital are big on old-fashioned black and white dresses with plenty of frills. But some dislike the fact that the style came from Trafaumh and are pushing more extravagant styles. It’s become quite silly.”

  “You’re telling me that the clothing of servants has become politicized?” Nathan asked.

  “Welcome to my time in Aleich,” Anna said, rolling her eyes as she referred to the capital of the Anfang Empire. “The complete failure of the northern campaign has riled up so much of the Nationalist faction that they’re lashing out at everybody and everything. They even managed to insult Falmir and cause a minor diplomatic incident.”

  That caught Nathan’s interest. He took a seat on one of the sofas in the room. Seraph and Sen joined him, and a platter of tea and cakes appeared in short order.

  This room held the same modern look as it had before. Neutral tones, plenty of steel and glass in the furnishings, and ebony wood added in to spice things up.

  The rest of the manor had been renovated since spring, however. Nathan suspected that Anna had used her absence as an opportunity to improve things. The claustrophobic spaces, ancient wooden furniture, and dated color schemes had vanished from most rooms. If you ignored the exterior, the manor looked almost modern.

  “How did the Diet anger Falmir?” Nathan asked.

  “Not the Diet, exactly,” Anna said, nibbling on a cake. “For the most part, we just sat around and argued about what to do now that we were at war with two countries at once. Lots of joint sessions of the colleges. I don’t think I’ve ever sat in the same room as all archdukes before.”

  The Anfang Empire was a curious place, in Nathan’s mind. He had grown up in the Kingdom of Falmir, which was as straightforward a place as monarchies went. The royal family governed the country, and the nobles ran things on behalf of the king in a relatively straightforward hierarchy.

  Whereas the Empire had webs of nobility. The Emperor was elected by the nobles, but usually from the same family several times in a row. The current Emperor was one Gorthal von Arangar, who was simply known as Emperor Gorthal to most. His father had been the first emperor in his family, and it was expected that one of his children would be elected after his passing.

  But the Emperor didn’t hold true power, because he was elected. Instead, three archdukes did. Each effectively owned a third of the entire Empire. Almost every noble held an oath of fealty to an archduke, either directly or indirectly.

  Anna was no exception.

  Sen raised her hand, before ducking her head as all eyes turned toward her. “Um, can we pretend that I’m an uneducated bandit girl that doesn’t have a clue how Imperial politics works or what this Diet really is?”

  Anna stared at Sen in disbelief.

  “I mean, I’ve heard of the Diet,” Sen blabbered. “It’s where the nobles all get together to do… something. I just don’t know anything other than that.”

  Rubbing her forehead, Anna let out a sigh. Then she glared at Nathan, who shrugged.

  “Fine, I’ll give you a brief explanation,” Anna said. “Aren’t I nice?” Anna smiled sweetly, daggers hidden behind her expression.

  “Yes,” Sen said as she took a noticeably long sip of tea to hide her reaction.

  “The Imperial Diet is the name for the three colleges—gatherings really—of nobles that have the right to control the Empire,” Anna explained. “Each college is a forum where the nobles get together and vote on proposals. The real power is with the archdukes, as they control over ninety percent of all land in the Empire. Nobody tells them what to do.”

  “I know that much,” Sen muttered. “How come if the archdukes are so powerful, there’s still so much arguing then?”

  “Because even the archdukes have to rely on the many nobles below them,” Nathan said, crossing his arms. “Like right here. Anna owes fealty to Archduke von Milgar, but he’s preoccupied with managing the war to the north.”

  Anna nodded, nibbling on a cake. “Milgar’s always ignored me before, but now I’ve become important. He even asked me to call him ‘Hans’ in a private meeting. Terrifying.
” She shuddered. “He’s the only archduke openly opposed to the Nationalist faction, and I’m openly aligned with Leopold, so I guess that makes me useful to him.”

  “Um, what are the Nationalists?” Sen asked.

  Anna bit her lip and remained silent.

  “People who want the Empire to return to what it was when Omria lived in Aleich. The pre-ascension days, in other words,” Nathan said bluntly. “Back before Trafaumh and Falmir split off, and when half the Federation was Imperial territory. Pretty much the only major powers other than the Empire were the Kurai Peninsula, the Spires, and Arcadia back then.”

  “Oh. Can the Empire ever become like that again?”

  “Not really,” Anna muttered. “But Nathan’s father would kill me if I said that openly.”

  All eyes turned to Nathan, who sighed. He waved Anna on.

  “So, they brought the colleges together. I take it that didn’t improve matters?” Nathan asked.

  “The opposite.” Anna sensed Sen’s questioning gaze and sighed. “The three colleges separate the different ‘classes’ of nobles. The Lords College consists of all of the counts, and we all have a single vote. The Princes College is the most powerful one, as only nobles who rule in their own right have a vote—it’s basically a glorified cabinet where the archdukes and Emperor veto anything that the other nobles do. Finally, there’s a Cities College, where the counts who govern the cities meet and vote.”

  “That sounds overly complicated,” Sen said.

  Nathan coughed. “If Milgar supported you, what about the other archdukes?”

  “Oh, they hated me. Milgar forced me to speak publicly when they brought everybody together in the palace. I thought I was going to burst into flames. The other archdukes and half of the assembled nobles were trying to eviscerate me with their eyes.” She shuddered again. “And despite all that, it was a waste of time. Nobody wanted to speak up against the Nationalists, even though I suspect most people want these wars to go away.”