Chapter 77: Chapter 71

Joane’s abode was close to the market plaza, though across the streets and after crossing a few commoner residences. Masses strolled through the streets decked in thick clothing that had only increased in girth over the past few days. The dead of the winter was harsh, but there was no snow, except for occasional harmless hailstorms that kept the streets moistened.

The abode was isolated from other cramped buildings with a decrepit compound spanning the periphery. Rickety roof and paled paint gave the house quite a rustic feel, adding to the crumbled gates that creaked open when I pushed it. We tramped through the overgrown lawn, along the pavements that had cracked in too many places to count. A rusted copped door ring didn’t have enough strength left, and it accompanied my hands when I finished knocking twice.

Well, did I just break it?

My lady giggled from the side, and I stared at the shut door for a while until it creaked open.

“I expected you to break it,” Joane grabbed the door ring from my hands, “but I hoped you’d be more lenient, Rudolf.”

“That wasn’t intentional, honorable mage,” I just dismissed her accusatory glance. “It was rusted and broken.”

She laughed. “Call me Joane. Letitia’s family is my family.”

“I’m just a butler,” I said. A Family wasn’t something undead needed. “Calling me family is stretching it too far, honorable mage.”

“You will call her Joane,” my lady said, her steel gaze boring into my eyes.

“Yes, my lady,” I said, backing down. I wasn’t a spineless undead, but acquiescing to my lady had somehow become a regular part of this life. Maybe my butler status had conspired behind my back since I didn’t hate my lady’s possessiveness, either.

“And I am your family. Do you have any qualms about it, mongrel?” she asked, already expecting a favorable answer.

“No,” I replied, albeit begrudgingly.

“Good,” she patted my shoulder because she couldn’t reach my head. “I expect more obedience from you in the future, Rudolf.”

Joane burst out laughing, though coughs and wheezing replaced them soon enough. Soon, she beckoned us inside, wiping her running nose with her towel, before closing the door behind us. Did she have a cold? I hadn’t noticed anything in the ball hall. Then again, there was too much blood and stench to care for this old woman.

I watched the decrepit corridor before stepping on the wooden flooring that creaked as we tramped through the passage. It was not quite wood, but something different owing to [Umbra] spells that changed the elemental constitution of the earth elements. But even the effects of the spell had worn off, so I reasoned she wasn’t an earth attribute mage. Maybe she had just one attribute.

Floor replacement was expensive, and specialized mages from the guild charged hefty prices for casting [Umbra]. The wood, or any other earth element, would start degrading once the effects of the spell started waning. So, more [Umbra] meant more money to the earth mages and less for the commoners. For this, and many other reasons, no one preferred to hire these mages versed in [Umbra] apart from the high nobles of the empire. Money was a significant problem among the lower classes, and we were the only exception among the nobility that didn’t have enough to spend lavishly.

We followed Joane, ignoring the door on the right that probably opened to her bedroom, and ambled to the great room on the left. Straight across the corridor was her kitchen with a dining area, but we had little use for it today. Or maybe we did. If she offered some bread, the kitchen had everything to do with it.

The shimmering flames in the hearth lighted the room, which was dark otherwise. Plain curtains on the windows were shut to ward off the winds, and Joane was feeling cold despite covering herself with a thick robe. Two chairs lined before the hearth on either side, a wooden table separating them, that appeared brand new for a ramshackle house that had somehow survived the storms of time. The threadbare maroon carpet lined the flooring, a couch placed across the room facing the hearth appeared unoccupied for a long time.

My craving for warmth finally died down when I sat over the stool closer to the hearth and warmed my hands by placing them before the raging flames. We didn’t have a chimney in the manor because it destroyed the majesty of the mansion by blackening the walls. Stupid nobles and their atrocious deeds were terrible for this undead. The kitchen had one, though without a hearth, so I used to often visit it during the reign of the former dead chef. Alas, now the maids were adamant about putting off the flames and making me suffer.

“Coffee?” Joane asked my lady, who was sitting on the chair close to the hearth with a pout.

“Yes, please,” I replied for both of us, and Joane gave me a smile that concealed her worries within. She was still debating whether to trust us with her task. That meant it was either traitorous or involved not eating bread for a month. If the latter, then we were walking out without a second glance.

My lady wrapped her arms around my neck from behind me and nudged her cheeks against mine. “I’m warming you, Rudolf.”

I smiled and ruffled her hair. “I’m not cold, my lady. You can let me go.”

“You are cold,” she said hastily, her words slightly incoherent, ears tainted rosy. “If you are not, I will cast [Chilly winds].”

I chuckled, much to her dismay, and she let go of me. “I’m cold, my lady.”

She pecked my cheek after pouting for a while and settled down on the stool opposite my own. We watched the crackling flame in silence, a smile on both of our faces, exchanging amused glances at times. I have no clue what had changed, but she appeared comfier around me as if she had seen me bare. In a way, she had watched me slaughter, but that should have augmented her aversion to me. I pushed the impractical thoughts out of my head and glanced at the ingress of the great room in yearning. If Joane brought some bread along, it would be a fantastic coincidence.

“She will, Rudolf,” my lady giggled. “ I had told her you preferred bread long back. Her memories are not to be fiddled with, so she will get some loaves for you.”

“And cookies for you?” I asked.

“Yes, and cookies for me,” my lady smiled again. “I don’t like them as much these days.”

“Tell that after you eat my cookies, Letitia,” Joane appeared at the door with two trays, circular with floral patterns of varying colors, and I rushed to her, worried that my bread would crash. Joane nodded at me gratefully, but I was just worried about my bread. Not her.

We ate in silence, Joane’s hoarse breathing along with the crackling of the flames filling up the silence. Occasionally, my lady chewed the cookies, her hands unable to stop themselves from reaching out for more, and Joane just smiled as she watched my lady from the couch, her disarrayed thoughts probably falling in place. Coffee steamed on the table between us, the vapor disappearing before it reached the decrepit walls above us. They were cracked in places, somehow still serving as the roof, and I was taken aback by her confidence to sleep peacefully underneath the shaky terrace.

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“I need you in port Achlon in two days,” Joane said, sipping her own mug of coffee, her gaze locked on us.

“What is this all about, old hag?” my lady asked, wrapping her hands around her steaming mug.

“I suppose threatening you wouldn’t do any good, so I’ll just get to the point,” Joane said and paused for another round of coughing. She sipped her coffee again and took some deep breaths. Old age was getting to her, probably more than I had initially assumed.

“Stop the reinforcement requests of the first prince of Halurath Isles,” Joane’s tone had grown quite severe, but there was as much anguish in her voice. This was fun because we were about to become traitors of the kingdom, which meant we would stay to listen more.

If there was a conspiracy, there would be undead flocking around like bees on nectar. That’s our nature, something we hardly deny.

“And who is this guy?” I asked after earning a nod from my lady.

“First prince of Halurath, Rudolf,” she gave me a stern gaze. “Pieret Halurath. The supposed successor of Halurath Isles.”

Well, that wasn’t my question, but it wasn’t a useless answer. Kicking the rightful heir out of the throne brought a smile to my face.

“Why do you want us to help you, Joane?” My lady asked, placing the steaming mug on the table. It was similar to ceramic, but not quite. [Umbra] spell never produced definite materials, and the earth mages depended on their instincts instead of pre-defined rules.

“Because I am under house arrest, Letitia,” she replied, the anguish returning to her voice. “I tried to think of all possible ways to get out of the walls, but none worked. Even my [Shadow] fails before I walk past the gates.”

“House arrest?” I asked, holding my hands before the flames.

“All retired mages are locked in their houses, Rudolf,” she shrugged. “Hardly anything new, but I suppose it hasn’t been made public knowledge. We have too many secrets of the kingdom to spit them in a drunken stupor behind the enemy lines, so either we are killed in the war before we cross eighty or die under house arrest. I was lucky enough to survive the storms of the war at the borders after they labeled my protégé a traitor, but in the end, this is where I die. Hardly a befitting death for me.”

“Why eighty?” my lady asked, uneasiness surfacing on her face.

“Because that’s when most of the pores in your body start closing in, my lady,” I said, and Joane nodded. “For mana assimilation and channelization, you need them open; the wider, the better.”

She nodded thoughfully and turned to Joane. “But why Halurath Isles? Weren’t you mother’s mentor?”

Silence descended in the room as my lady crossed her arms, waiting for the old mage to explain more.

“My rightful home is Halurath Isles,” she started, and I leaned against the couch, ready to hear another boring autobiography. “I served concubine Jia in the palace as a maid, hiding my mage identity, until the dirty games of the harem forced me to become a chief culprit for killing lady Jia. Prince Balar was still a toddler back then, thrown into a den of wolves that would churn his meat for as long as he stayed there. Lady Jia had somehow arranged for me to escape the Halurath Isles, her only request being I should help her son ascend the throne, should the future look bleak for him.

“I managed to reach Port Achlon without getting into major mishaps and lived there for a couple of years, until the pirate raid of twenty years ago. Duke Nerken, who had come to defend the port, acknowledged my skills and assigned his daughter, lady Chantelle, as my first protégé. But this obviously meant I was forever bound to the capital since the palace would keep a close eye on me. The Nerken Dukedom betrayed the kingdom, lady Chantelle killed herself, and I was imprisoned within the walls of the kingdom, serving my time at the border under the predatory eyes of the mages stronger than me, never to set foot to Halurath Isles again.”

She paused to cough for a while and drank another mouthful of cold coffee. “Lord Halurath died yesterday, and Balar killed the third prince Drapt this morning before occupying the fortress of the capital Bulka–“

“Wait,” my lady said, her eyes wide. “How come the news reached you so fast? It takes at least five to six days to reach the mainland from the Isles, even by warships. Birds are out of the question in winters.”

“{Abyss] my lady,” I said with a smile, leaving the old mage dumbstruck. “She’s been maintaining an [Abyss] of Prince Balar for more than twenty years.”

“How is that possible, mongrel?!” my lady blatantly stared at me. “How can anyone cast while sleeping?”

“You breathe while sleeping, my lady, so channelizing mana should hardly be an issue. She is an external caster just like us.” I maintained my [Ward] around my lady’s room even in my sleep, so it didn’t surprise me that another mage could do it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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