Chapter Nineteen: The Summons
It was another week before Ginn and Ette would let Val go back outside like a regular person - and, even then, it was still with the understanding that things weren't quite back to normal and they might never be. Thankfully, Galvan started his new apprenticeship after only four days, because the boy was a real pain in the rear. Val now understood the horrible things that people said about siblings… even though Galvan wasn't her brother. Not really. More like an annoying cousin.
For starters, he practiced his fiddle almost as much as he practiced his leatherwork. And, when Val asked him to quit it when she was trying to sleep or she just wanted peace and quiet, he'd just play it a lot quieter… and then forget and be playing almost as loud ten minutes later. Second, he already had almost as many friends as she did - after four godsdamned days - and he came and went with them as he pleased. True, the Pale Order wasn't after him, but that wasn't the point. And, finally, he was generally a nuisance and an ass.
For instance, there was the time that Val and Ette had come up from a practice session in the basement in which they'd hammered out starting curriculum for Val's… for their fighting class. He'd clapped her on the shoulder and told her she'd done well. Which she had. And Galvan had just looked up from his reading and squinted and said,
"You know we're not brother and sister. Not really."
"Good," Val had said. "I don't want to be your sister."
"Good, because you're not."
"Good," Val said, and she'd stormed off before either of them could say good again. The boy was a nuisance. She was glad when he was out at his apprenticeship for ten hours a day.
Even when Val was finally allowed to come and go as she pleased (which, technically, had always been an option, but she'd simply decided to abide by Ginn and Ette's rule)… even when the pressure eased off, she didn't get out much. After all, she still had her magic lessons, and now she was assisting in two combat classes six days a week. It was exhausting and time-consuming, especially when she'd stupidly volunteered to keep the books and maintain the equipment, which took another hour every day.
When the classes started to become popular, when even people from outside the sept started to show up and inquire about them, Ette rented out the vacant floor in Sabine's place and moved most of their training equipment there. It was less convenient than having a training room in the basement, but you could fit about five times as many people in there and you could use real (dulled) weapons without shish kebabing the groups practicing around you. Mostly, they used practice sticks. There was also a no-weapons class, too, since most people didn't carry around anything more threatening than a buck knife.
"Mind if we join in?" Galvan asked one day.
"Yes," Val would have said, but she didn't, because she knew Ette would be pleased as punch. So, instead, she said: "Class is open to everybody," and waved them in. She didn't even charge them, though she thought about it.
It was Galvan and two of his friends who became regulars. Ginn had probably strongly suggested it to her son, but if Ette suspected that, he hadn't said so. He was pleased as punch that his son had taken an interest in the family's trade, even if only as a semi-serious pastime. But he was also pleased as punch when Val handily bested Galvan in sparring three times in a row. So she supposed Galvan coming wasn't all bad.
Things fell into a semi-predictable rhythm after that:
Wake up and help with breakfast. Fighting classes in the morning, followed by class upkeep and then washing herself up. Help Ginn with the books, potions, and contracts. Lunch. Roam about Verdenlecht with Iselde and Nikoli and try not to get into too much mischief. Study with Gus and Beni. More fighting classes and clean-up. Supper. Magic lessons. Study. Bedtime. That was a typical day - morning to nighttime bustle, and the only thing approaching free time was her two and a half hours with Iselde, Nikoli, and their free-ranging orphan group, who got to do whatever they wanted after their morning lessons (except on cleaning days and temple days) and usually didn't return to the orphanage until suppertime.
It would have been hard for Val to pick her favorite part of a typical day. Fighting was exhilarating and she was getting pretty good at it. She liked her quiet, reflective time with Ginn after fighting. They would sit side by side without a single word passing between them for ten or fifteen minutes at a stretch, just getting to work with whatever needed doing. And, of course, she was learning to do actual magic. And she was really good at it!
By Val's estimate, she was maybe the fourth best in the class, which didn't sound too impressive in a class of twelve. But when you considered that five of those twelve had a year of extra training, and when you considered that tall, awkward Gustinia was probably the smartest person that Val had ever met… well, then fourth-best wasn't so bad. And Gus swore that, if Val wasn't better, they were tied, even though Val swore up and down that they weren't.
"Thaumokinetics… Pyrokinetics… Geometrics… Verdancy…" Val counted them off on her fingers. "You're way better at all that stuff."
"Because I study my butt off on those things," Gus said. "You know ten times more things, and I'm not even sure how. If you focused on just a few things, you'd be better than me."
"Yeah, but I can't focus on just one or two things at a time," Val said. "That's boring."
"I'd kill to be as good at just one of those things as either of you," Beni added.
"Yeah, but your magic's still coming in. You'll get better…"
"I think it's just about done," Beni sighed. "I'm barely stronger than I was two weeks ago…"
"Well then tough nuts," Gus said. "You don't have an excuse not to study twice as hard now."
Beni laughed. "Yeah I do. My excuse is I don't feel like it."
"That's why you're second-rate, then," Val said. "The trick is to make it into a game. Like… can you draw a spell pattern with your right hand?"
"I'm right-handed… so yes. And, no, I can't draw one with my left hand. That's just about impossible."
"No it's not. I practice with my bad hand sometimes, and I can do it almost as well now…"
"Same here," Gus giggled. "How have we never talked about this before?"
"Okay, I'm out," Beni grunted. He closed his book and pushed his chair back. "You two are too much overachiever for me. I'm going home. Where I can read something that's not about patterns and spirit pushing and actually feel smart for once in my day."
Gus rolled her eyes. "Boys."
This was not an atypical conversation, and it was not atypical for Levin, the greenspear acolyte who helped teach the class, to then chastise them for distracting the other students. He knew better than to tell them they were falling behind because they weren't.
Yes, things had fallen into a semi-predictable rhythm and Val gradually found herself enjoying the stability and normalcy of it all. Of course, that meant everything was about to change because of her 'curse' - and it did. Things changed forever the day that the duke's guards came to summon Val to see Duke Ansibald.
+++++
The Aureline Ducal Guard weren't as frightening as the Penitent Order, mostly because they had some semblance of discipline beyond 'do whatever the duke says'. They wore hardened jerkins of dark blue, gray, or a combination - Val wasn't entirely sure what the differences in color denoted - with the ducal crest on the left shoulder, as well as upon the front of their helmets when they wore them. Like the brother-knights, they swaggered about like they owned the place. Unlike the brother-knights, they preferred implicit threats over actual violence. And, unlike the brother-knights, who were all 'brothers', about a quarter of the ducal guard were women.
Still, Val couldn't help but be a bit nervous when they showed up at the Vinzenno residence and announced that Duke Ansibald 'requested' an audience with her. Val was astute enough to know that a duke's request was not a request.
"Do you mind if I ask what this is about?" Ginn asked.
The sergeant had the politesse to check her orders and then check them again. "I couldn't say, ma'am. This is a summons, not an arrest warrant."
Val supposed that was good. And Ginn insisted on accompanying, which was also good.
"You'll not be allowed into the ducal chambers," the sergeant said. "We'll find somebody to show you the tapestries."
Val hoped that meant actually seeing the tapestries and not some horrible euphemism. From the way Ginn squeezed her hand, she thought that, too. The only real tapestries that Val had ever seen were in churches and temples, unless you counted the big woven mural that Quinten the Weaver hung up in the Green Procession during holidays.
They followed the guards up the big marble staircase leading to the palace. It had been built over the functional stone steps of the old fortress - and those old steps still existed, dark and mossy with little bunches of brown, cold-withered ferns along patches. But the marble steps were in fine repair, and if you read the text at the front of the stairs, it read:
Behold, the great palace of House Wuhricht, jewel of all Sudria.
The dynasty name 'Wuhricht' was done up in a different shade of marble from the rest of the text, suggesting that a different dynasty might have been in charge of things in the not-so-distant past. Val's knowledge of Aurilicht's history didn't go into that much detail.
They passed guards stationed at the bottom, middle, and top of the steps. Presumably, they were there to keep the riff-raff out, and possibly to keep certain people in, too. Most of the palace's intake entered through the lower levels to a lot less fanfare.
They entered a great and airy hall that, Val had to admit, did have very nice tapestries. Trimmed in burgundy and violet and depicting scenes from Aurilicht's history, they stretched from the soaring nave above to low enough that a tall man might touch the fringes. Men and women who dressed and walked like very important folk strutted about the place, paying Val and Ginn little mind - though she noticed them stealing glances when they thought Val wasn't looking, which she was.
"Hey, boy!" the sergeant flagged down a passing footboy. "Show the duke's guest the tapestries."
"I don't know a thing about the tapestries," the young man said, no fear apparent in his voice.
"Well find somebody who does and have them give her a tour while her daughter meets with the duke, would you? Chop-chop!"
The footboy rolled his eyes. "I'll see what I can do."
"Be respectful, Val," Ginn said.
"I'll see what I can do," Val said.
The sergeant passed Val off to a seneschal, who escorted Val into the ducal chambers with a great big bow. As Val passed in, he looked up and whispered, "curtsy, girl!"
Val did her best, which wasn't very good. She'd never learned to curtsy. Besides, they'd summoned her, so it was their job to educate her on whatever silly, posh, courtly things they wanted her to do.
"This is the child?" a woman sighed. She had more jewelry on that Val had ever seen somebody wear.
"I'm twelve," Val clarified. This, in her opinion, made 'child' an inappropriate assessment.
"And what is your name, young lady?"
"Valkyrie Valicent-Vinzenno."
"Well… that's a mouthful," Duke Ansibald said.
+++++
The duke was a striking young man, perhaps seventeen years old and broad of frame, with piercing blue eyes and teeth so pearl-white you could eat off them. Presumably, the duke did just that. He lazed about on a big chair, one well-muscled leg dangling over the armrest as if he might curl up like a cat and go to sleep. Only the curious glint in his eye suggested he was paying more attention than he let on.
The other person in the room, the woman, was a bit older than Ginn - mid-forties, perhaps - with hair that was just as dark as the young man's and eyes that were every bit as blue. She wore a thousand carats in assorted jewelry in her hair or on her robes, her posture was ramrod-straight, and her eyes bore into Val like a great alchemical drill.
"Oh, do sit up, Ansibald. Your audiences won't always be with commoner girls, and even commoners deserve more respect than that." She said this without even glancing at the duke. Val decided that she liked this woman, whoever she was.
"Are you the duke's mother?"
The woman smirked, as if not being recognized was a novel affair for her. "I am the dowager duchess Hyacinth Eatherfine, the duke's chief advisor…"
"And my mother," the duke sighed.
"And his mother. Hence, you can understand my consternation on two fronts when the reports on a certain Gifted young woman of a particular pedigree cross my desk not twice, not thrice, but four times. What have you got to say for yourself, child?"
"What do you mean, Mrs. Eatherfine?" Since she hadn't been given instruction one way or the other, Val helped herself to a seat. She was nervous about doing the wrong thing and thought that just standing there might make her look even more fidgety and nervous than she already was. She tested the seat's cushions a time or three… it had the sort of springiness that probably cost a lot of money. "I've tried to stay out of trouble," she added eventually.
"The proper way to address me is as duchess or my lady, not Mrs. Eatherfine."
"Please don't call me child, my lady. Val is fine."
In Val's experience, posh folks either got very snitty or got bemused when you asked for the same kind of respect that they got. She was glad to see that Mrs. Eatherfine was of the latter camp, because that sort you could actually converse with without them talking down their nose at you the whole time. And if somebody wasn't going to treat Val decently, she had no inclination to scrape before them.
"I like her," the duke said. "I hope we don't have to jail her…"
Val froze - just for an instant, but she froze. Then she hoped that Mrs. Eatherfine hadn't noticed, but she definitely had. Then she snorted because she'd been caught and they all knew she'd been caught. She made as serious of a face as she could. "What four things do you know about me?"
"I know that you have a death order on your head from the Pale Order, that you escape to Aurilicht, and that, once here, the first thing you do is goad my son into beheading a bishop. You proceed to join the Sept of Hale Jerob and learn the magical arts beneath Oestel. You bring the ire of the church upon yourself by flooding the canals, upon which you return to Wayfair and massacre an abbey of monks and knights with your benefactor, Ettebono Vinzenno, whatever your relationship is…"
"My uncle, duchess. We're family," Val said. "Though not by blood."
"I suspected as much…" Mrs. Eatherfine scribbled a note onto one of her papers with an elegant, bobbing quill. "Once you escape that, you return here to Verdenlecht, where Mr. Vinzenno delivers documents to the ducal guard indicating that Wayfair is gearing up for war. And then you and your uncle start a combat academy to train citizens in armed and unarmed combat. Have I missed anything, Val?"
"Depends on what you're hoping to catch, my lady. That sounds like most of the notable stuff I've done… and I've already been punished for half of it. So…"
"Are you planning to incite rebellion and overthrow my duchy?" Mrs. Eatherfine said.
"My duchy," Duke Ansibald said.
"The duchy. Well?"
Val's mouth dropped agape. "Begging your pardon, my duke and duchess, but why in hell's bells would I do that? And how? I'm a former-orphan assistant security consultant."
Mrs. Eatherfine stared at Val for so long time. So long that even Val, who was pretty resistant to awkward silences, fidgeted a little in the silence. Her brow knit and unknit at least three times, little jewels rattling and clinking as she did, before she said anything. "Val… you are the sole surviving descendant of Friyja, the last Queen of Sudria."
"I'm the what?"
OvidLemma
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-Ovid
Chapter Nineteen: The Summons
It was another week before Ginn and Ette would let Val go back outside like a regular person - and, even then, it was still with the understanding that things weren't quite back to normal and they might never be. Thankfully, Galvan started his new apprenticeship after only four days, because the boy was a real pain in the rear. Val now understood the horrible things that people said about siblings… even though Galvan wasn't her brother. Not really. More like an annoying cousin.
For starters, he practiced his fiddle almost as much as he practiced his leatherwork. And, when Val asked him to quit it when she was trying to sleep or she just wanted peace and quiet, he'd just play it a lot quieter… and then forget and be playing almost as loud ten minutes later. Second, he already had almost as many friends as she did - after four godsdamned days - and he came and went with them as he pleased. True, the Pale Order wasn't after him, but that wasn't the point. And, finally, he was generally a nuisance and an ass.
For instance, there was the time that Val and Ette had come up from a practice session in the basement in which they'd hammered out starting curriculum for Val's… for their fighting class. He'd clapped her on the shoulder and told her she'd done well. Which she had. And Galvan had just looked up from his reading and squinted and said,
"You know we're not brother and sister. Not really."
"Good," Val had said. "I don't want to be your sister."
"Good, because you're not."
"Good," Val said, and she'd stormed off before either of them could say good again. The boy was a nuisance. She was glad when he was out at his apprenticeship for ten hours a day.
Even when Val was finally allowed to come and go as she pleased (which, technically, had always been an option, but she'd simply decided to abide by Ginn and Ette's rule)… even when the pressure eased off, she didn't get out much. After all, she still had her magic lessons, and now she was assisting in two combat classes six days a week. It was exhausting and time-consuming, especially when she'd stupidly volunteered to keep the books and maintain the equipment, which took another hour every day.
When the classes started to become popular, when even people from outside the sept started to show up and inquire about them, Ette rented out the vacant floor in Sabine's place and moved most of their training equipment there. It was less convenient than having a training room in the basement, but you could fit about five times as many people in there and you could use real (dulled) weapons without shish kebabing the groups practicing around you. Mostly, they used practice sticks. There was also a no-weapons class, too, since most people didn't carry around anything more threatening than a buck knife.
"Mind if we join in?" Galvan asked one day.
"Yes," Val would have said, but she didn't, because she knew Ette would be pleased as punch. So, instead, she said: "Class is open to everybody," and waved them in. She didn't even charge them, though she thought about it.
It was Galvan and two of his friends who became regulars. Ginn had probably strongly suggested it to her son, but if Ette suspected that, he hadn't said so. He was pleased as punch that his son had taken an interest in the family's trade, even if only as a semi-serious pastime. But he was also pleased as punch when Val handily bested Galvan in sparring three times in a row. So she supposed Galvan coming wasn't all bad.
Things fell into a semi-predictable rhythm after that:
Wake up and help with breakfast. Fighting classes in the morning, followed by class upkeep and then washing herself up. Help Ginn with the books, potions, and contracts. Lunch. Roam about Verdenlecht with Iselde and Nikoli and try not to get into too much mischief. Study with Gus and Beni. More fighting classes and clean-up. Supper. Magic lessons. Study. Bedtime. That was a typical day - morning to nighttime bustle, and the only thing approaching free time was her two and a half hours with Iselde, Nikoli, and their free-ranging orphan group, who got to do whatever they wanted after their morning lessons (except on cleaning days and temple days) and usually didn't return to the orphanage until suppertime.
It would have been hard for Val to pick her favorite part of a typical day. Fighting was exhilarating and she was getting pretty good at it. She liked her quiet, reflective time with Ginn after fighting. They would sit side by side without a single word passing between them for ten or fifteen minutes at a stretch, just getting to work with whatever needed doing. And, of course, she was learning to do actual magic. And she was really good at it!
By Val's estimate, she was maybe the fourth best in the class, which didn't sound too impressive in a class of twelve. But when you considered that five of those twelve had a year of extra training, and when you considered that tall, awkward Gustinia was probably the smartest person that Val had ever met… well, then fourth-best wasn't so bad. And Gus swore that, if Val wasn't better, they were tied, even though Val swore up and down that they weren't.
"Thaumokinetics… Pyrokinetics… Geometrics… Verdancy…" Val counted them off on her fingers. "You're way better at all that stuff."
"Because I study my butt off on those things," Gus said. "You know ten times more things, and I'm not even sure how. If you focused on just a few things, you'd be better than me."
"Yeah, but I can't focus on just one or two things at a time," Val said. "That's boring."
"I'd kill to be as good at just one of those things as either of you," Beni added.
"Yeah, but your magic's still coming in. You'll get better…"
"I think it's just about done," Beni sighed. "I'm barely stronger than I was two weeks ago…"
"Well then tough nuts," Gus said. "You don't have an excuse not to study twice as hard now."
Beni laughed. "Yeah I do. My excuse is I don't feel like it."
"That's why you're second-rate, then," Val said. "The trick is to make it into a game. Like… can you draw a spell pattern with your right hand?"
"I'm right-handed… so yes. And, no, I can't draw one with my left hand. That's just about impossible."
"No it's not. I practice with my bad hand sometimes, and I can do it almost as well now…"
"Same here," Gus giggled. "How have we never talked about this before?"
"Okay, I'm out," Beni grunted. He closed his book and pushed his chair back. "You two are too much overachiever for me. I'm going home. Where I can read something that's not about patterns and spirit pushing and actually feel smart for once in my day."
Gus rolled her eyes. "Boys."
This was not an atypical conversation, and it was not atypical for Levin, the greenspear acolyte who helped teach the class, to then chastise them for distracting the other students. He knew better than to tell them they were falling behind because they weren't.
Yes, things had fallen into a semi-predictable rhythm and Val gradually found herself enjoying the stability and normalcy of it all. Of course, that meant everything was about to change because of her 'curse' - and it did. Things changed forever the day that the duke's guards came to summon Val to see Duke Ansibald.
+++++
The Aureline Ducal Guard weren't as frightening as the Penitent Order, mostly because they had some semblance of discipline beyond 'do whatever the duke says'. They wore hardened jerkins of dark blue, gray, or a combination - Val wasn't entirely sure what the differences in color denoted - with the ducal crest on the left shoulder, as well as upon the front of their helmets when they wore them. Like the brother-knights, they swaggered about like they owned the place. Unlike the brother-knights, they preferred implicit threats over actual violence. And, unlike the brother-knights, who were all 'brothers', about a quarter of the ducal guard were women.
Still, Val couldn't help but be a bit nervous when they showed up at the Vinzenno residence and announced that Duke Ansibald 'requested' an audience with her. Val was astute enough to know that a duke's request was not a request.
"Do you mind if I ask what this is about?" Ginn asked.
The sergeant had the politesse to check her orders and then check them again. "I couldn't say, ma'am. This is a summons, not an arrest warrant."
Val supposed that was good. And Ginn insisted on accompanying, which was also good.
"You'll not be allowed into the ducal chambers," the sergeant said. "We'll find somebody to show you the tapestries."
Val hoped that meant actually seeing the tapestries and not some horrible euphemism. From the way Ginn squeezed her hand, she thought that, too. The only real tapestries that Val had ever seen were in churches and temples, unless you counted the big woven mural that Quinten the Weaver hung up in the Green Procession during holidays.
They followed the guards up the big marble staircase leading to the palace. It had been built over the functional stone steps of the old fortress - and those old steps still existed, dark and mossy with little bunches of brown, cold-withered ferns along patches. But the marble steps were in fine repair, and if you read the text at the front of the stairs, it read:
Behold, the great palace of House Wuhricht, jewel of all Sudria.
The dynasty name 'Wuhricht' was done up in a different shade of marble from the rest of the text, suggesting that a different dynasty might have been in charge of things in the not-so-distant past. Val's knowledge of Aurilicht's history didn't go into that much detail.
They passed guards stationed at the bottom, middle, and top of the steps. Presumably, they were there to keep the riff-raff out, and possibly to keep certain people in, too. Most of the palace's intake entered through the lower levels to a lot less fanfare.
They entered a great and airy hall that, Val had to admit, did have very nice tapestries. Trimmed in burgundy and violet and depicting scenes from Aurilicht's history, they stretched from the soaring nave above to low enough that a tall man might touch the fringes. Men and women who dressed and walked like very important folk strutted about the place, paying Val and Ginn little mind - though she noticed them stealing glances when they thought Val wasn't looking, which she was.
"Hey, boy!" the sergeant flagged down a passing footboy. "Show the duke's guest the tapestries."
"I don't know a thing about the tapestries," the young man said, no fear apparent in his voice.
"Well find somebody who does and have them give her a tour while her daughter meets with the duke, would you? Chop-chop!"
The footboy rolled his eyes. "I'll see what I can do."
"Be respectful, Val," Ginn said.
"I'll see what I can do," Val said.
The sergeant passed Val off to a seneschal, who escorted Val into the ducal chambers with a great big bow. As Val passed in, he looked up and whispered, "curtsy, girl!"
Val did her best, which wasn't very good. She'd never learned to curtsy. Besides, they'd summoned her, so it was their job to educate her on whatever silly, posh, courtly things they wanted her to do.
"This is the child?" a woman sighed. She had more jewelry on that Val had ever seen somebody wear.
"I'm twelve," Val clarified. This, in her opinion, made 'child' an inappropriate assessment.
"And what is your name, young lady?"
"Valkyrie Valicent-Vinzenno."
"Well… that's a mouthful," Duke Ansibald said.
+++++
The duke was a striking young man, perhaps seventeen years old and broad of frame, with piercing blue eyes and teeth so pearl-white you could eat off them. Presumably, the duke did just that. He lazed about on a big chair, one well-muscled leg dangling over the armrest as if he might curl up like a cat and go to sleep. Only the curious glint in his eye suggested he was paying more attention than he let on.
The other person in the room, the woman, was a bit older than Ginn - mid-forties, perhaps - with hair that was just as dark as the young man's and eyes that were every bit as blue. She wore a thousand carats in assorted jewelry in her hair or on her robes, her posture was ramrod-straight, and her eyes bore into Val like a great alchemical drill.
"Oh, do sit up, Ansibald. Your audiences won't always be with commoner girls, and even commoners deserve more respect than that." She said this without even glancing at the duke. Val decided that she liked this woman, whoever she was.
"Are you the duke's mother?"
The woman smirked, as if not being recognized was a novel affair for her. "I am the dowager duchess Hyacinth Eatherfine, the duke's chief advisor…"
"And my mother," the duke sighed.
"And his mother. Hence, you can understand my consternation on two fronts when the reports on a certain Gifted young woman of a particular pedigree cross my desk not twice, not thrice, but four times. What have you got to say for yourself, child?"
"What do you mean, Mrs. Eatherfine?" Since she hadn't been given instruction one way or the other, Val helped herself to a seat. She was nervous about doing the wrong thing and thought that just standing there might make her look even more fidgety and nervous than she already was. She tested the seat's cushions a time or three… it had the sort of springiness that probably cost a lot of money. "I've tried to stay out of trouble," she added eventually.
"The proper way to address me is as duchess or my lady, not Mrs. Eatherfine."
"Please don't call me child, my lady. Val is fine."
In Val's experience, posh folks either got very snitty or got bemused when you asked for the same kind of respect that they got. She was glad to see that Mrs. Eatherfine was of the latter camp, because that sort you could actually converse with without them talking down their nose at you the whole time. And if somebody wasn't going to treat Val decently, she had no inclination to scrape before them.
"I like her," the duke said. "I hope we don't have to jail her…"
Val froze - just for an instant, but she froze. Then she hoped that Mrs. Eatherfine hadn't noticed, but she definitely had. Then she snorted because she'd been caught and they all knew she'd been caught. She made as serious of a face as she could. "What four things do you know about me?"
"I know that you have a death order on your head from the Pale Order, that you escape to Aurilicht, and that, once here, the first thing you do is goad my son into beheading a bishop. You proceed to join the Sept of Hale Jerob and learn the magical arts beneath Oestel. You bring the ire of the church upon yourself by flooding the canals, upon which you return to Wayfair and massacre an abbey of monks and knights with your benefactor, Ettebono Vinzenno, whatever your relationship is…"
"My uncle, duchess. We're family," Val said. "Though not by blood."
"I suspected as much…" Mrs. Eatherfine scribbled a note onto one of her papers with an elegant, bobbing quill. "Once you escape that, you return here to Verdenlecht, where Mr. Vinzenno delivers documents to the ducal guard indicating that Wayfair is gearing up for war. And then you and your uncle start a combat academy to train citizens in armed and unarmed combat. Have I missed anything, Val?"
"Depends on what you're hoping to catch, my lady. That sounds like most of the notable stuff I've done… and I've already been punished for half of it. So…"
"Are you planning to incite rebellion and overthrow my duchy?" Mrs. Eatherfine said.
"My duchy," Duke Ansibald said.
"The duchy. Well?"
Val's mouth dropped agape. "Begging your pardon, my duke and duchess, but why in hell's bells would I do that? And how? I'm a former-orphan assistant security consultant."
Mrs. Eatherfine stared at Val for so long time. So long that even Val, who was pretty resistant to awkward silences, fidgeted a little in the silence. Her brow knit and unknit at least three times, little jewels rattling and clinking as she did, before she said anything. "Val… you are the sole surviving descendant of Friyja, the last Queen of Sudria."
"I'm the what?"
OvidLemma
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-Ovid
