Hi, everybody!
Sorry about the delay between posts! I was obsessively working on my latest complete novel, Iron Witch (Part 1), which is basically a TG steampunk wizard school (think Harry Potter) novel. It's available on my Patreon right now ($2 will get you access)! I haven't decided whether it will make its way to ScribbleHub or if I'll post it to Amazon, but it will be a while in either case. The link below is to my official announcement of the project, which includes all of Chapter 1 for your perusal. The full novel is available to Patrons.
https://www.patreon.com/posts/update-special-49706067
All my best,
Ovid
49. Orphan Archer Valkyrie
Val whispered to Tulip and urged her horse back alongside Levin and the others. Tulip nattered a bit, finishing one last apple beneath the tree before trotting over to the others. Val's horse loved her apples. Earl Zollen had brought out the group of battle-mages to train in tactics alongside the Army of the Rumm, which he personally commanded.
The latest intelligence indicated that the secular forces of Boleares were infighting with the Righteous Army - not exactly a civil war, but they were cool toward one another and refused to coordinate because the Righteous Army wanted to march out and conquer the heathen, whereas the Bolearic Army wanted to fortify and hunker down for the winter so they could hold and stabilize East Aurilicht before launching a spring campaign. However, the Righteous Army held the capital at Verdenlecht, the largest city in the relatively-sparse east, and was more intent on turning the palace into a great fortress-cathedral than they were in straightforward matters of defense. Earl Zollen saw the opportunity to drive a wedge between the northern and southern fronts, but first he wanted to make sure the battle-mages were more prepared than they'd been when Duke Ansibald had been killed in battle.
"Marksmen… fire at your leisure!" the earl shouted.
Eight marksmen with heavy bolts stood in front of the battle-mages, taking careful aim. The earl had marched the whole Port Rumm 1st Regiment out to get a feel for what battle-mages could do and how to fit them into his tactical scheme. After having witnessed them in action at the Battle of the Cafernine Valley, he was convinced that they would be an essential part of his army's military maneuvers but needed to see what they were capable of so he could determine how to send them into battle. Without a better feel for what they could do, they were an asset deployed with nothing more than a wish and a prayer.
The marksmen took their aim carefully, firing between the battle-mages, just in case a bolt got through. They had the big, boxy casters capable of firing heavy bolts with their longer range and big, alchemically-treated tips and they stood atop an eight-foot palisade to approximate the angle of a bolt fired from two hundred yards. The bolts hit the invisible projectile shield and stopped - some shattered on the spot, as if striking a stone wall. Others bounced back in lazy arcs, forcing the shooters to drop behind cover, even though the bolts were currently undercharged. Most slowed to a tiny fraction of their fired speed and thunked into the soft earth of the field.
Squires rushed out and measured the positions of where the bolts had been blocked relative to the mage line:
"Ten point five yards!"
"Twelve yards!"
"Twelve point five yards!"
"Fourteen yards!"
The earl scribbled notes into his book. "So… between ten and fourteen yards. We need to keep our cavalry within ten yards of the mages… they'll need to be the third row back from the front of formation… now, let's see how long they can keep that shield up. Marksmen… fire in…"
"I'm not comfortable with them firing at the girls," Ette said.
"The enemy will be firing at them if they ride into battle," Zollen said. "And from chatting with your daughter, my impression is that's a 'when' and not an 'if'. Wouldn't you rather we know how to deploy and protect them?"
"Yes, your excellency, of course," Ette said. He brought his horse around, a chocolate-brown destrier that very much matched his broad, sturdy frame. He made a strained smile. "But what if the shield makes a bolt veer off course? Is that worth losing a mage over in practice?"
"I understand… your daughter and niece are in the formation," Zollen said. "Mister Vinzenno… Ette… we've got healers with potions at the ready, should the unforeseen occur, but so far all of the deflections have been minimal. I don't want our mages going down any more than… well, I won't claim to have a father's vested interest. My boy's safe to the side…" he waved to Tobbin. "But I don't want to be the general who killed his best mage during practice. These are the best marksmen in the duchy."
The marksmen he'd employed did look competent. And two of them had a panoply of medals festooning the front of their uniforms, suggesting they'd done a lot of good things in battle and they'd been doing it for a long time.
"Aye, your excellency, they may be the best marksmen," Ette said, emphasizing the last syllable. His eyes turned back in Val's direction, his expression vaguely feline. He always came across as slightly predatory in his keen, dark-eyed interest, even though he was about the kindest man that Val knew. She was lucky to have him as a dad. "But your two best sharpshooters are right back in your battle-mage corps, busy blocking heavy bolts."
"I'm sure they're fine shots, but they're just ch- young women," Zollen said. He knew that Val didn't care to be called a child. She was a battle-witch, after all. Battle witches weren't kids.
"How about this," Ette said, his eyes taking on a mischievous gleam, his pearly teeth just a bit too sharp. "I'll put up four… no… five talents. You can pick any one of my girls - Val, Niko, or Izzy - against any one of your eight marksmen. If your man wins, you get my five talents and I stay mum for the rest of your war games. If my girl wins, then I get your five talents and we figure out a way to do this that doesn't involve firing heavy bolts a yard wide of my daughter or nieces."
Zollen raised an eyebrow. His eyebrows were iron-gray and bushy, unlike Ette's thin dark eyebrows. Both men were very broad and well-muscled, though Ette was about half a head shorter and didn't have the earl's modest potbelly. Zollen thought he kept the belly pretty well-disguised underneath his plate armor, but Val could tell he'd had a few too many rich meals. Still, he was in good fighting shape for a man old enough to be her grandpa.
"Are you good for five talents?" Earl Zollen asked.
"Aye, I’m good for it," Ette said. He tapped his coin purse, which probably had about one tenth that in it. "Though I won't be too happy to part with it…"
The earl snorted. "Fine… Captain Einsallen, how would you feel about a little archery exposition?"
The marksman with the most awards on his uniform saluted. "Very confident, your excellency!"
The bet was on. Earl Zollen took his time asking each of Ette's battle-mages about their archery skill. Obviously, Izzy wasn't actually a battle-mage, as she didn't have the Gift, but the three of them were inseparable and she was plenty good in a fight. If there was any justice in the universe, she would get the Gift soon and the three of them could be a proper witch's coven. The earl interviewed each of them in confidence, though Val would have told the truth in front of the whole army without any need for discretion.
"Among your two friends…" he whispered… "which have you beat the most times at archery?"
Val scratched her head. "Niko. I once beat her by a point. I don't think I've ever beat Izzy."
Zollen nodded. "And, among the three of you, who do you think is the worst with a bow and arrow?"
"That's probably me. Dad says I just need to build up my intuition, but I'm not sure how to do that. I guess it's a bit like riding a horse… but I can tell Tulip what to do and with an arrow, I just have to practice."
"Could you hit a bullseye at fifty yards? Or a hundred?"
Val shrugged. "Anybody who isn't shite has a chance at fifty… your excellency. But at a hundred? Not on my first shot, no."
It was pretty clear, then, that Val was the least qualified among the three of them. She didn't dispute that categorization, nor could she. After all, she'd only ever brought in deer. Bringing in a wild turkey or other fowl was beyond her - invariably, her first shot would miss and startle the poor bird, and it would fly before she could line up her second shot. She could hit deer on the regular, but she'd only do so if they could use the meat and leather. She'd sooner shoot a person than shoot an animal for the pure sport of it… well, a person she didn't like, in any case.
"Mr. Vinzenno, I'd like to pit your daughter against Captain Einsallen. Last chance to back out from our bet…"
Ette shook his head. "I'm a man of excess honor and insufficient common sense. If Val will indulge me, I'm still game. What do you say, Val?"
Val bit her lip. Five golden talents? That was a lot of money. As much money as most folks along peddler's row made in a year. "It's a lot of money, dad," she said.
He smiled. "It is. I didn't hear a 'no'. You'll do it?"
Val squared her shoulders, even though she probably had the narrowest shoulders of any of the thousand people there, after Izzy. "You made the bet, so I trust that you know the odds."
Ette nodded. "I do… though you sound nervous, Val. Would it be better if we said… let's say the best total among five shots… with three practice shots to begin?"
"Three practice shots and five scored shots at a hundred yards," Earl Zollen stated. "What do you say? Captain? Val?"
"Of course, your excellency," the captain said.
"Yes, earl," Val said.
Thus it came to pass that Val went up against the greatest marksman in the Duchy of Aurilicht in an archery contest in the best total among five shots. Their targets were round bales of hay delineated with alternating concentric circles painted in quicklime. The innermost bullseye was scored as a perfect eleven points, with each successively larger circle worth two fewer points out to the outside one worth one. Ette and the earl each extended their monoculars and gazed downfield.
"Alternating shots, fire at your leisure," Zollen said.
Captain Einsallen was the first to shoot - a respectable seven, missing the bullseye by a distance equal to the width of Val's outstretched fingers. Val nocked, pulled, released… and missed the target completely. She was short by about three yards and wide to the right.
"I'll take two talents now if you concede," Earl Zollen said.
Ette waved him off. "Just wait. Keep shooting, you two."
Einsallen got a nine. And Val got… well, she wasn't short anymore, though she was wide to the left. Then Einsallen got another nine just four inches up and to the right of his previous shot and Val got… a one! She jumped and pumped her fist. She'd landed it to the far right of the target's face at exactly the right height.
"Those are your three practice," Zollen reminded them. "The next five shots will count, so make them worth it - I'll give two talents to the winner… captain."
"I've been wanting a new patio, your excellency," Captain Einsallen said. He nocked his next arrow.
The wind fluttered in Val's hair… light wind from the east. Her hand automatically moved to adjust - just the slightest adjustment from her previous spot, plus a little more for the wind. The captain fired, but Val didn't see where he hit because she was too focused on her own target. She loosed the arrow. She blinked, trying to capture the image as it struck home at seven points, just up and to the left.
"Seven to eleven," the earl said.
Val breathed. She nocked. She drew. She adjusted. The wind died down and she adjusted again. She released.
"Sixteen to twenty," the earl said.
Another shot. Another.
"Thirty-six to thirty-eight," the earl said, a hint of uncertainty wavering in his voice. "Your fifth and final shot comes next…"
Val nocked. She drew. She released. Her arrow split her previous arrow just left of dead center - exact same shot, exact same hole, just like Ette had taught her. Several people in the audience gasped, but Val paid them no mind. She'd already reached for another arrow.
"Forty-seven all," Earl Zollen said. "I… I suppose we'll have a sudden-death round - one shot apiece until the first one of you gets advantage."
Val nocked, drew, and released. Exact same shot, exact same hole. Her arrow struck home, jostling the previous two bullseye arrows free. Without thinking, she reached for another arrow and nocked.
"Fifty-eight to fifty-six," the earl said after a moment. "Val wins…"
"She can keep going if you'd like to…" Ette said.
Zollen sighed. "No, Mr. Vinzenno, we Zollens didn't stay rich by doubling down on lost causes. Captain Einsallen is the finest marksman in my army, but nobody can hit the same spot three times in a row like a ten-yard shot at the country fair. Or, rather, I wagered five talents that nobody could… seven, since I believe I promised two to the victor…"
Ette nodded amiably. "Your excellency is a wise and gracious…"
At that moment, a messenger galloped along the regiment line, racing up to the earl, a roll of parchment clutched tightly in her hand. "Your excellency! Urgent news from Port Rumm - Baron Terrian is demanding the earldom back and has summoned his bannermen to enforce his claim!"
+++++
The only thing that surprised Val about this turn of events was that Terrian apparently had the charisma to sway his former bannermen to his cause. He'd never struck her as the particularly persuasive type - though, if you went for bravado and flash over competence, she supposed he could talk a pretty good game.
The von Liestch family had ruled out of Port Rumm for centuries and could claim lineage back to the ancient kings whose countenances arrayed the crypt beneath the earl's palace. In any other situation, it would have been audacious for a duchess to unseat them from power, but Aleida had done just that. In a time of war, Earl Gunthald had participated in a dastardly plot that weakened the duchy and likely lost them the capital at Verdenlecht. A plot where Val had very nearly been killed. As far as she was concerned, Aleida had shown great mercy when she'd allowed the von Liestches to keep their countryside manor and the barony that accompanied it. She'd have kicked Baron Terrian to the streets and have done with it. Nobody deserved a barony, let alone that entitled jackass.
But now Terrian had summoned his bannermen - and, even if only a quarter of the earldom's army backed him, that was several thousand soldiers. Enough to either make the duchess concede, force a costly battle, or send those troops right over to the Bolearic side of the war in hopes of advancing their claim there.
"We'll march out now," Earl Zollen said. "Intercept them in the Liestch Hills, hopefully unawares, and get this nonsense nipped in the bud before the sprat can incite a full-fledged rebellion."
"Father, I suggest we wait for the Port Rumm reinforcements," Sir Tobbin said - he'd been promoted to full knight and was serving as one of his father's lieutenants. "They shouldn't be more than a day and will double our numbers."
"Aye, and in that time little Lord Terrian could just as easily double the size of his army. Double the casualties on each side, and we can't spare a single man, let alone a whole army, with the war going as it is. We'll march on them now and hope to disperse them with minimal casualties. It's the best move we can make."
Tobbin nodded - his father's reasoning was sound. Ette brought out his little pocket map and muddled over it before trotting up to the earl. "I think we should split in two - take one force through the valley pass, where they'll be hidden under cover of the woods, and the more mobile force along the ridge, where we'll have a view of the whole valley and the high ground."
Ette had been a scout during his stint in the Auriline army, back during the war. When the Genoshen nations had sailed across the ocean and attempted to conquer Sudria, he'd joined with the army to drive the invaders back into the sea. It had only been two and a half years of his life, but Ette still had a good intuition for landscape and tactics, a fact that hadn't gone unnoticed by Earl Zollen. While he was officially only there to make sure the girls were safe, the earl had taken Ette into his confidence and essentially treated him as an advising lieutenant.
Zollen looked over the map. "Yes, I think you're right. I'll go with the main force along the ridge and our skirmishers and pikes will take to the woods. That way we'll have the elevation advantage for our marksmen but have pikes ready to block any retreat out the valley." He turned toward the rest of the troops. "Ready your things - we head out in fifteen minutes!"
There wasn't much to ready. Horses to feed, personal urges to address, and bags to stow. Val had three regular saddlebags and one that was decidedly different, on account of being Violet's personal coach. Val's cat/familiar didn't have to accompany her everywhere, but Violet had expressed that she could only ignore rules of space and solidity for a mile or so at a time, and so if Val ever wandered off too far without her, it might be days before witch and familiar were united. And, since Violet was a friend and a very good kitty, she got to come if she wanted to. After getting left behind during Val's trip to Verdenlecht, she always did.
"I hope we don't have to give the earldom back to that Terrian guy," Niko said.
Val grumbled. There was no love lost between her and the former earl's son. "It doesn't even make sense - you can't 'give' an earldom to somebody. Nobody owns it."
"Um," Izzy said. "Doesn't the Earl own it? It's called an earldom."
Val shook her head - though, as somebody who'd read four whole law books cover to cover, she knew that this was very much a topic of debate in Auriline law. The prevailing interpretation was that the earl or baron governed an area on behalf of the duke and that the duke governed all of Aurlilicht on behalf of the gods (or god) but didn't own any of it beyond their personal estate. However, a minority opinion was that governance by consent of the gods (or god) was de facto ownership granting the governing noble broad authority not enjoyed by a simple steward of the realm. Val didn't care for this interpretation, but it was understandably popular among the nobles.
"A realm belongs to everybody who lives there," Val stated. "My parents are in charge of my house… well, they were back in Verdenlecht when we had a house. But, even though they bought the building, they don't own my room. They can't just go in there and take my stuff or throw it out onto the street."
"But can't they, though? Legally-speaking? I'm pretty sure they could toss your stuff to the curb and the law would be on their side," Niko said. "At least until you're a grown woman."
"Legally doesn't make it right," Val said eventually.
Ette had overheard. He overheard an awful lot, actually - he claimed jokingly he'd inherited the trait from Val, as if that made sense on any level. He rode up to them, clearing his throat for effect. "I imagine if I threw Val's things onto the street, if Ginn didn't tan my hide first, I'd soon find myself on the wrong end of the bow from the greatest sharpshooter in all Sudria." He reached into his pocket and handed something warm and metallic to Val… something sizable enough to have a noticeable weight.
Val opened her hand and gasped - three golden talents! That was a lot of money. She'd heard it said that a prosperous tradesperson (Gus's parents, for instance) made about thirty talents a year and that the average sharecropper made about two, with most common folk making somewhere between those extremes. So, despite being far more money than Val had ever possessed at once, it wasn't a whole lot in objective terms. It was moments like these - being casually handed as much money as some hardworking folks made in a whole year - that made Val appreciate how vastly different her life was from just over a year ago, when she'd been an orphan girl struggling to earn clay chits that weren't even real currency.
"What's this for?"
Ette shrugged. "The earl offered two talents in prize money to the winner of your little archery demonstration and the third is your percentage of the household income. Rounded up, of course. If you don't tell your mum, I won't…"
Val just gawped at the coins, slightly redder than pure gold and just a bit too large to be pocket change. A portrait of some dead noble was featured on the face - Aleida's grandfather, if Val recalled. This wasn't even the most money she'd handled this week, and yet it somehow felt different because the money was hers. Well… she quickly handed a talent each to Izzy and Niko.
"What's this for?" Niko and Izzy both asked - this, apparently, was the standard response of forphans at being handed significant sums of money. The reflex response was always to be skeptical whenever somebody gave you something out of the goodness of their own heart.
"Either of you could have won that contest just as easily as me, and Earl Zollen only picked me because the two of you were honest in your answers. You're better than me, not worse. This is our money."
Niko leaned over from her spot atop Petunia and kissed Val on the cheek. "I'll have to get you something nice with it…"
Ette cleared his throat for effect again. "Val and Izzy, I know I’m not your pop, but if you want some avuncular advice, I'd save that money. You may be sleeping pretty in a palace bedroom at the moment, but I've found it's best to assume my luck will eventually take a turn."
All three girls rolled their eyes - as forphans, this was just common sense. The standard practice with getting a windfall was to buy something nice but small to satisfy that momentary craving for luxury and save the rest for a rainy day, because the rain would inevitably come. It was also standard practice to share at least a little of what you'd got with your trustiest friends, which Val had already done.
They rode along the trail for a while under the silvery autumn sun. Out in the country, the air was cool and crisp and the leaves in the nearby wood had started to turn russet and golden. Val leaned over to pick at a snow-daisy in the meadow just off the path and trotted up close to Niko to work the flower into her tight braids, the tiny flowers white and gauzy like fluffy snowfall against her platinum hair. Meanwhile, Izzy held back a bit, turning the golden talent in her hands long after Val and Niko had consigned theirs to their concealed pockets.
"Do you think this will be enough to hire somebody to help find my little brother?" she said.
Refugees from the capture of Verdenlecht were still trickling their way to Port Rumm, though most had fled to more local communities. A dozen or so fellow members of the Hale Jerob sept had turned up in town, but most were unaccounted for, including the whole of the sept's orphanage. Izzy didn't talk about it much, but Val knew that her brother's whereabouts weighed heavily on her, and Val felt ashamed for not asking about him more. A decent friend would have done something already, but she'd been to preoccupied with her own problems.
"If my money will help, then it's yours," Val said. She looked into the wind so Izzy wouldn't see her cheeks burning with shame.
"Same, obviously," Niko said.
Izzy nodded. It was obvious - they were blood sisters, after all - but it would have been presumptuous to say so. "I'll let you know."
They continued riding atop the ridge for another hour, the gentle Leistundvar Valley gradually sloping to the west, little villages and homesteads dotting the landscape amid tracts of terraced hillside farmland and patches of dense tree cover waving in the breeze with a dozen autumn colors. It was harvest season, but most of the fields that Val could see lay there unworked and half-harvested. It was clear that something was amiss in the countryside that had made everybody run for cover. Val clenched her fists. She wished she had something to squeeze aside from the pommel on her saddle. People were frightened and fields might go unworked because Baron Twit had decided he ought to still be an earl.
Not for long if she had anything to say about it. And, as if decreed by fate, the earl's scouts galloped back to their formation. "Your excellency, the baron's camp is two miles ahead, just past the woods!"
OvidLemma
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-Ovid
Hi, everybody!
Sorry about the delay between posts! I was obsessively working on my latest complete novel, Iron Witch (Part 1), which is basically a TG steampunk wizard school (think Harry Potter) novel. It's available on my Patreon right now ($2 will get you access)! I haven't decided whether it will make its way to ScribbleHub or if I'll post it to Amazon, but it will be a while in either case. The link below is to my official announcement of the project, which includes all of Chapter 1 for your perusal. The full novel is available to Patrons.
https://www.patreon.com/posts/update-special-49706067
All my best,
Ovid
49. Orphan Archer Valkyrie
Val whispered to Tulip and urged her horse back alongside Levin and the others. Tulip nattered a bit, finishing one last apple beneath the tree before trotting over to the others. Val's horse loved her apples. Earl Zollen had brought out the group of battle-mages to train in tactics alongside the Army of the Rumm, which he personally commanded.
The latest intelligence indicated that the secular forces of Boleares were infighting with the Righteous Army - not exactly a civil war, but they were cool toward one another and refused to coordinate because the Righteous Army wanted to march out and conquer the heathen, whereas the Bolearic Army wanted to fortify and hunker down for the winter so they could hold and stabilize East Aurilicht before launching a spring campaign. However, the Righteous Army held the capital at Verdenlecht, the largest city in the relatively-sparse east, and was more intent on turning the palace into a great fortress-cathedral than they were in straightforward matters of defense. Earl Zollen saw the opportunity to drive a wedge between the northern and southern fronts, but first he wanted to make sure the battle-mages were more prepared than they'd been when Duke Ansibald had been killed in battle.
"Marksmen… fire at your leisure!" the earl shouted.
Eight marksmen with heavy bolts stood in front of the battle-mages, taking careful aim. The earl had marched the whole Port Rumm 1st Regiment out to get a feel for what battle-mages could do and how to fit them into his tactical scheme. After having witnessed them in action at the Battle of the Cafernine Valley, he was convinced that they would be an essential part of his army's military maneuvers but needed to see what they were capable of so he could determine how to send them into battle. Without a better feel for what they could do, they were an asset deployed with nothing more than a wish and a prayer.
The marksmen took their aim carefully, firing between the battle-mages, just in case a bolt got through. They had the big, boxy casters capable of firing heavy bolts with their longer range and big, alchemically-treated tips and they stood atop an eight-foot palisade to approximate the angle of a bolt fired from two hundred yards. The bolts hit the invisible projectile shield and stopped - some shattered on the spot, as if striking a stone wall. Others bounced back in lazy arcs, forcing the shooters to drop behind cover, even though the bolts were currently undercharged. Most slowed to a tiny fraction of their fired speed and thunked into the soft earth of the field.
Squires rushed out and measured the positions of where the bolts had been blocked relative to the mage line:
"Ten point five yards!"
"Twelve yards!"
"Twelve point five yards!"
"Fourteen yards!"
The earl scribbled notes into his book. "So… between ten and fourteen yards. We need to keep our cavalry within ten yards of the mages… they'll need to be the third row back from the front of formation… now, let's see how long they can keep that shield up. Marksmen… fire in…"
"I'm not comfortable with them firing at the girls," Ette said.
"The enemy will be firing at them if they ride into battle," Zollen said. "And from chatting with your daughter, my impression is that's a 'when' and not an 'if'. Wouldn't you rather we know how to deploy and protect them?"
"Yes, your excellency, of course," Ette said. He brought his horse around, a chocolate-brown destrier that very much matched his broad, sturdy frame. He made a strained smile. "But what if the shield makes a bolt veer off course? Is that worth losing a mage over in practice?"
"I understand… your daughter and niece are in the formation," Zollen said. "Mister Vinzenno… Ette… we've got healers with potions at the ready, should the unforeseen occur, but so far all of the deflections have been minimal. I don't want our mages going down any more than… well, I won't claim to have a father's vested interest. My boy's safe to the side…" he waved to Tobbin. "But I don't want to be the general who killed his best mage during practice. These are the best marksmen in the duchy."
The marksmen he'd employed did look competent. And two of them had a panoply of medals festooning the front of their uniforms, suggesting they'd done a lot of good things in battle and they'd been doing it for a long time.
"Aye, your excellency, they may be the best marksmen," Ette said, emphasizing the last syllable. His eyes turned back in Val's direction, his expression vaguely feline. He always came across as slightly predatory in his keen, dark-eyed interest, even though he was about the kindest man that Val knew. She was lucky to have him as a dad. "But your two best sharpshooters are right back in your battle-mage corps, busy blocking heavy bolts."
"I'm sure they're fine shots, but they're just ch- young women," Zollen said. He knew that Val didn't care to be called a child. She was a battle-witch, after all. Battle witches weren't kids.
"How about this," Ette said, his eyes taking on a mischievous gleam, his pearly teeth just a bit too sharp. "I'll put up four… no… five talents. You can pick any one of my girls - Val, Niko, or Izzy - against any one of your eight marksmen. If your man wins, you get my five talents and I stay mum for the rest of your war games. If my girl wins, then I get your five talents and we figure out a way to do this that doesn't involve firing heavy bolts a yard wide of my daughter or nieces."
Zollen raised an eyebrow. His eyebrows were iron-gray and bushy, unlike Ette's thin dark eyebrows. Both men were very broad and well-muscled, though Ette was about half a head shorter and didn't have the earl's modest potbelly. Zollen thought he kept the belly pretty well-disguised underneath his plate armor, but Val could tell he'd had a few too many rich meals. Still, he was in good fighting shape for a man old enough to be her grandpa.
"Are you good for five talents?" Earl Zollen asked.
"Aye, I’m good for it," Ette said. He tapped his coin purse, which probably had about one tenth that in it. "Though I won't be too happy to part with it…"
The earl snorted. "Fine… Captain Einsallen, how would you feel about a little archery exposition?"
The marksman with the most awards on his uniform saluted. "Very confident, your excellency!"
The bet was on. Earl Zollen took his time asking each of Ette's battle-mages about their archery skill. Obviously, Izzy wasn't actually a battle-mage, as she didn't have the Gift, but the three of them were inseparable and she was plenty good in a fight. If there was any justice in the universe, she would get the Gift soon and the three of them could be a proper witch's coven. The earl interviewed each of them in confidence, though Val would have told the truth in front of the whole army without any need for discretion.
"Among your two friends…" he whispered… "which have you beat the most times at archery?"
Val scratched her head. "Niko. I once beat her by a point. I don't think I've ever beat Izzy."
Zollen nodded. "And, among the three of you, who do you think is the worst with a bow and arrow?"
"That's probably me. Dad says I just need to build up my intuition, but I'm not sure how to do that. I guess it's a bit like riding a horse… but I can tell Tulip what to do and with an arrow, I just have to practice."
"Could you hit a bullseye at fifty yards? Or a hundred?"
Val shrugged. "Anybody who isn't shite has a chance at fifty… your excellency. But at a hundred? Not on my first shot, no."
It was pretty clear, then, that Val was the least qualified among the three of them. She didn't dispute that categorization, nor could she. After all, she'd only ever brought in deer. Bringing in a wild turkey or other fowl was beyond her - invariably, her first shot would miss and startle the poor bird, and it would fly before she could line up her second shot. She could hit deer on the regular, but she'd only do so if they could use the meat and leather. She'd sooner shoot a person than shoot an animal for the pure sport of it… well, a person she didn't like, in any case.
"Mr. Vinzenno, I'd like to pit your daughter against Captain Einsallen. Last chance to back out from our bet…"
Ette shook his head. "I'm a man of excess honor and insufficient common sense. If Val will indulge me, I'm still game. What do you say, Val?"
Val bit her lip. Five golden talents? That was a lot of money. As much money as most folks along peddler's row made in a year. "It's a lot of money, dad," she said.
He smiled. "It is. I didn't hear a 'no'. You'll do it?"
Val squared her shoulders, even though she probably had the narrowest shoulders of any of the thousand people there, after Izzy. "You made the bet, so I trust that you know the odds."
Ette nodded. "I do… though you sound nervous, Val. Would it be better if we said… let's say the best total among five shots… with three practice shots to begin?"
"Three practice shots and five scored shots at a hundred yards," Earl Zollen stated. "What do you say? Captain? Val?"
"Of course, your excellency," the captain said.
"Yes, earl," Val said.
Thus it came to pass that Val went up against the greatest marksman in the Duchy of Aurilicht in an archery contest in the best total among five shots. Their targets were round bales of hay delineated with alternating concentric circles painted in quicklime. The innermost bullseye was scored as a perfect eleven points, with each successively larger circle worth two fewer points out to the outside one worth one. Ette and the earl each extended their monoculars and gazed downfield.
"Alternating shots, fire at your leisure," Zollen said.
Captain Einsallen was the first to shoot - a respectable seven, missing the bullseye by a distance equal to the width of Val's outstretched fingers. Val nocked, pulled, released… and missed the target completely. She was short by about three yards and wide to the right.
"I'll take two talents now if you concede," Earl Zollen said.
Ette waved him off. "Just wait. Keep shooting, you two."
Einsallen got a nine. And Val got… well, she wasn't short anymore, though she was wide to the left. Then Einsallen got another nine just four inches up and to the right of his previous shot and Val got… a one! She jumped and pumped her fist. She'd landed it to the far right of the target's face at exactly the right height.
"Those are your three practice," Zollen reminded them. "The next five shots will count, so make them worth it - I'll give two talents to the winner… captain."
"I've been wanting a new patio, your excellency," Captain Einsallen said. He nocked his next arrow.
The wind fluttered in Val's hair… light wind from the east. Her hand automatically moved to adjust - just the slightest adjustment from her previous spot, plus a little more for the wind. The captain fired, but Val didn't see where he hit because she was too focused on her own target. She loosed the arrow. She blinked, trying to capture the image as it struck home at seven points, just up and to the left.
"Seven to eleven," the earl said.
Val breathed. She nocked. She drew. She adjusted. The wind died down and she adjusted again. She released.
"Sixteen to twenty," the earl said.
Another shot. Another.
"Thirty-six to thirty-eight," the earl said, a hint of uncertainty wavering in his voice. "Your fifth and final shot comes next…"
Val nocked. She drew. She released. Her arrow split her previous arrow just left of dead center - exact same shot, exact same hole, just like Ette had taught her. Several people in the audience gasped, but Val paid them no mind. She'd already reached for another arrow.
"Forty-seven all," Earl Zollen said. "I… I suppose we'll have a sudden-death round - one shot apiece until the first one of you gets advantage."
Val nocked, drew, and released. Exact same shot, exact same hole. Her arrow struck home, jostling the previous two bullseye arrows free. Without thinking, she reached for another arrow and nocked.
"Fifty-eight to fifty-six," the earl said after a moment. "Val wins…"
"She can keep going if you'd like to…" Ette said.
Zollen sighed. "No, Mr. Vinzenno, we Zollens didn't stay rich by doubling down on lost causes. Captain Einsallen is the finest marksman in my army, but nobody can hit the same spot three times in a row like a ten-yard shot at the country fair. Or, rather, I wagered five talents that nobody could… seven, since I believe I promised two to the victor…"
Ette nodded amiably. "Your excellency is a wise and gracious…"
At that moment, a messenger galloped along the regiment line, racing up to the earl, a roll of parchment clutched tightly in her hand. "Your excellency! Urgent news from Port Rumm - Baron Terrian is demanding the earldom back and has summoned his bannermen to enforce his claim!"
+++++
The only thing that surprised Val about this turn of events was that Terrian apparently had the charisma to sway his former bannermen to his cause. He'd never struck her as the particularly persuasive type - though, if you went for bravado and flash over competence, she supposed he could talk a pretty good game.
The von Liestch family had ruled out of Port Rumm for centuries and could claim lineage back to the ancient kings whose countenances arrayed the crypt beneath the earl's palace. In any other situation, it would have been audacious for a duchess to unseat them from power, but Aleida had done just that. In a time of war, Earl Gunthald had participated in a dastardly plot that weakened the duchy and likely lost them the capital at Verdenlecht. A plot where Val had very nearly been killed. As far as she was concerned, Aleida had shown great mercy when she'd allowed the von Liestches to keep their countryside manor and the barony that accompanied it. She'd have kicked Baron Terrian to the streets and have done with it. Nobody deserved a barony, let alone that entitled jackass.
But now Terrian had summoned his bannermen - and, even if only a quarter of the earldom's army backed him, that was several thousand soldiers. Enough to either make the duchess concede, force a costly battle, or send those troops right over to the Bolearic side of the war in hopes of advancing their claim there.
"We'll march out now," Earl Zollen said. "Intercept them in the Liestch Hills, hopefully unawares, and get this nonsense nipped in the bud before the sprat can incite a full-fledged rebellion."
"Father, I suggest we wait for the Port Rumm reinforcements," Sir Tobbin said - he'd been promoted to full knight and was serving as one of his father's lieutenants. "They shouldn't be more than a day and will double our numbers."
"Aye, and in that time little Lord Terrian could just as easily double the size of his army. Double the casualties on each side, and we can't spare a single man, let alone a whole army, with the war going as it is. We'll march on them now and hope to disperse them with minimal casualties. It's the best move we can make."
Tobbin nodded - his father's reasoning was sound. Ette brought out his little pocket map and muddled over it before trotting up to the earl. "I think we should split in two - take one force through the valley pass, where they'll be hidden under cover of the woods, and the more mobile force along the ridge, where we'll have a view of the whole valley and the high ground."
Ette had been a scout during his stint in the Auriline army, back during the war. When the Genoshen nations had sailed across the ocean and attempted to conquer Sudria, he'd joined with the army to drive the invaders back into the sea. It had only been two and a half years of his life, but Ette still had a good intuition for landscape and tactics, a fact that hadn't gone unnoticed by Earl Zollen. While he was officially only there to make sure the girls were safe, the earl had taken Ette into his confidence and essentially treated him as an advising lieutenant.
Zollen looked over the map. "Yes, I think you're right. I'll go with the main force along the ridge and our skirmishers and pikes will take to the woods. That way we'll have the elevation advantage for our marksmen but have pikes ready to block any retreat out the valley." He turned toward the rest of the troops. "Ready your things - we head out in fifteen minutes!"
There wasn't much to ready. Horses to feed, personal urges to address, and bags to stow. Val had three regular saddlebags and one that was decidedly different, on account of being Violet's personal coach. Val's cat/familiar didn't have to accompany her everywhere, but Violet had expressed that she could only ignore rules of space and solidity for a mile or so at a time, and so if Val ever wandered off too far without her, it might be days before witch and familiar were united. And, since Violet was a friend and a very good kitty, she got to come if she wanted to. After getting left behind during Val's trip to Verdenlecht, she always did.
"I hope we don't have to give the earldom back to that Terrian guy," Niko said.
Val grumbled. There was no love lost between her and the former earl's son. "It doesn't even make sense - you can't 'give' an earldom to somebody. Nobody owns it."
"Um," Izzy said. "Doesn't the Earl own it? It's called an earldom."
Val shook her head - though, as somebody who'd read four whole law books cover to cover, she knew that this was very much a topic of debate in Auriline law. The prevailing interpretation was that the earl or baron governed an area on behalf of the duke and that the duke governed all of Aurlilicht on behalf of the gods (or god) but didn't own any of it beyond their personal estate. However, a minority opinion was that governance by consent of the gods (or god) was de facto ownership granting the governing noble broad authority not enjoyed by a simple steward of the realm. Val didn't care for this interpretation, but it was understandably popular among the nobles.
"A realm belongs to everybody who lives there," Val stated. "My parents are in charge of my house… well, they were back in Verdenlecht when we had a house. But, even though they bought the building, they don't own my room. They can't just go in there and take my stuff or throw it out onto the street."
"But can't they, though? Legally-speaking? I'm pretty sure they could toss your stuff to the curb and the law would be on their side," Niko said. "At least until you're a grown woman."
"Legally doesn't make it right," Val said eventually.
Ette had overheard. He overheard an awful lot, actually - he claimed jokingly he'd inherited the trait from Val, as if that made sense on any level. He rode up to them, clearing his throat for effect. "I imagine if I threw Val's things onto the street, if Ginn didn't tan my hide first, I'd soon find myself on the wrong end of the bow from the greatest sharpshooter in all Sudria." He reached into his pocket and handed something warm and metallic to Val… something sizable enough to have a noticeable weight.
Val opened her hand and gasped - three golden talents! That was a lot of money. She'd heard it said that a prosperous tradesperson (Gus's parents, for instance) made about thirty talents a year and that the average sharecropper made about two, with most common folk making somewhere between those extremes. So, despite being far more money than Val had ever possessed at once, it wasn't a whole lot in objective terms. It was moments like these - being casually handed as much money as some hardworking folks made in a whole year - that made Val appreciate how vastly different her life was from just over a year ago, when she'd been an orphan girl struggling to earn clay chits that weren't even real currency.
"What's this for?"
Ette shrugged. "The earl offered two talents in prize money to the winner of your little archery demonstration and the third is your percentage of the household income. Rounded up, of course. If you don't tell your mum, I won't…"
Val just gawped at the coins, slightly redder than pure gold and just a bit too large to be pocket change. A portrait of some dead noble was featured on the face - Aleida's grandfather, if Val recalled. This wasn't even the most money she'd handled this week, and yet it somehow felt different because the money was hers. Well… she quickly handed a talent each to Izzy and Niko.
"What's this for?" Niko and Izzy both asked - this, apparently, was the standard response of forphans at being handed significant sums of money. The reflex response was always to be skeptical whenever somebody gave you something out of the goodness of their own heart.
"Either of you could have won that contest just as easily as me, and Earl Zollen only picked me because the two of you were honest in your answers. You're better than me, not worse. This is our money."
Niko leaned over from her spot atop Petunia and kissed Val on the cheek. "I'll have to get you something nice with it…"
Ette cleared his throat for effect again. "Val and Izzy, I know I’m not your pop, but if you want some avuncular advice, I'd save that money. You may be sleeping pretty in a palace bedroom at the moment, but I've found it's best to assume my luck will eventually take a turn."
All three girls rolled their eyes - as forphans, this was just common sense. The standard practice with getting a windfall was to buy something nice but small to satisfy that momentary craving for luxury and save the rest for a rainy day, because the rain would inevitably come. It was also standard practice to share at least a little of what you'd got with your trustiest friends, which Val had already done.
They rode along the trail for a while under the silvery autumn sun. Out in the country, the air was cool and crisp and the leaves in the nearby wood had started to turn russet and golden. Val leaned over to pick at a snow-daisy in the meadow just off the path and trotted up close to Niko to work the flower into her tight braids, the tiny flowers white and gauzy like fluffy snowfall against her platinum hair. Meanwhile, Izzy held back a bit, turning the golden talent in her hands long after Val and Niko had consigned theirs to their concealed pockets.
"Do you think this will be enough to hire somebody to help find my little brother?" she said.
Refugees from the capture of Verdenlecht were still trickling their way to Port Rumm, though most had fled to more local communities. A dozen or so fellow members of the Hale Jerob sept had turned up in town, but most were unaccounted for, including the whole of the sept's orphanage. Izzy didn't talk about it much, but Val knew that her brother's whereabouts weighed heavily on her, and Val felt ashamed for not asking about him more. A decent friend would have done something already, but she'd been to preoccupied with her own problems.
"If my money will help, then it's yours," Val said. She looked into the wind so Izzy wouldn't see her cheeks burning with shame.
"Same, obviously," Niko said.
Izzy nodded. It was obvious - they were blood sisters, after all - but it would have been presumptuous to say so. "I'll let you know."
They continued riding atop the ridge for another hour, the gentle Leistundvar Valley gradually sloping to the west, little villages and homesteads dotting the landscape amid tracts of terraced hillside farmland and patches of dense tree cover waving in the breeze with a dozen autumn colors. It was harvest season, but most of the fields that Val could see lay there unworked and half-harvested. It was clear that something was amiss in the countryside that had made everybody run for cover. Val clenched her fists. She wished she had something to squeeze aside from the pommel on her saddle. People were frightened and fields might go unworked because Baron Twit had decided he ought to still be an earl.
Not for long if she had anything to say about it. And, as if decreed by fate, the earl's scouts galloped back to their formation. "Your excellency, the baron's camp is two miles ahead, just past the woods!"
OvidLemma
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