Jackal Among Snakes

Those of the fractured kingdom of Atrus would naturally be opposed to looting, too. If Relize’s army had a reputation of incontrovertibly damaging the lands they marched across, resistance from the lords of Atrus would be fiercer the deeper they pressed. On the contrary, if more merciful options were presented consistently, resistance might lessen as they proceeded. Acquiescence would become a common alternative to battle, better both for the realm, the people, and Argrave’s future prospects.

Altogether, looting was an unideal form of war profiteering for the future.

The way that Elenore profited from war in the past was rather simple: she bought industries the war needed. Metalworking and criminal enchanting—namely, non-Order enchanting—formed the core of her profits. Land—agriculturally developed land, that is—was also another core component, but her status as the Bat had limited her ability to own said land.

Now, land was falling into Elenore’s hands day by day as the army advanced.

The lords of Atrus wanted two things: to maintain control of their land, and to keep its value. The patricians in Relize wanted a return on their investment of bodies and ships. Both wanted a future, even at the detriment of the other. Yet Elenore believed the two weren’t necessarily mutually exclusive. With her agents in Atrus and her position of power as Argrave’s regent, the two could be all but forced to cooperate.

To that end, Elenore developed a system that was partly based off anecdotes she had wrested from Argrave about the difficulties of the financial system in the world he came from. It was a concept that had technically existed for a long time. Elenore merely formalized it and distributed it according to merit, with ample explanation to pitch the benefits.

Upon surrender, the lands of the lords of Atrus remained theirs. It was, however, deemed a debt owed to the crown. This debt—Elenore had named it a resistance debt—could be owned by anyone, regardless of status. Consequently, Elenore distributed them as rewards. This resistance debt was to be paid off in increments twice a year. Failure to meet payments meant that whoever owned the debt could seize the allotted land lawfully with the permission—and even aid—of the crown.

It was not in favor of the nobility of Atrus. But then, such was the power of leverage. The theory behind it was that the people in Atrus would be willing to enter into this resistance debt that potentially stripped their lands, as the alternative was resisting mindlessly and definitely losing their lands. And in the time since Argrave’s absence… she had been proven right.

On the other end of things, many patricians realized the implications of such a debt. It bound each and every recipient of such a reward to the crown almost absolutely—this debt of theirs was secured by the crown, so all had a vested interest in keeping Argrave and his successors in power. And yet that didn’t matter. A biannual payment of significant quantity, with the potential of turning into real land should their debtor default… and that wasn’t even mentioning the fact this debt could be sold to others freely. It was undeniably appealing.

Elenore was certain it would work because the people she was dealing with were business-minded. The patricians, near one and all, were traders: the title of ‘patrician’ came only from the Grand Council of Relize. Outside of it, they were nothing. The promise of either great wealth or land was acceptable to them. Land was hard to acquire as a commoner, and wealth formed the cornerstone of Relizean power. That was why she had taken this path. Had the makeup of their army been nobility, such a resolution would never have sufficed.

That isn’t to say the resistance debt hadn’t come without its problems. The administration and codification of the matter was a tremendous burden—calculating debt, dividing land, and negotiations alone were monumental duties, not to mention the thousands of other minutiae. The number of people that Elenore employed seemed to be increasing exponentially—in turn, the strain on her pre-existing financing had to bear that weight.

And yet Argrave still asks me to send money to that god-forsaken northern wasteland while he plays dress-up, Elenore reflected as she travelled in a carriage, some of Argrave’s royal knights escorting her just outside. To say the least, Argrave was not one to hesitate in asking for more of people. In time… we need a far more centralized army, Elenore noted. If we’re to tie people to the crown, there has to be a way of enforcing that tie beyond the armies lent to us by our vassals.

All that said, her handling of the matter had worked thus far. The complaints lessened. People started to heed Elenore as Argrave’s regent, seeking her out as they had him in the past. It was war, and people would never be fully content… but Elenore knew enough of the situation to deem dissatisfaction a non-imminent issue. Elenore, herself, was not dissatisfied with things. She merely viewed her financial losses as the transition between a business and a government.

Yet now she travelled to the northwest, following the coast of the North Sea. Durran would be waiting for her there, facilitating her arrival. The beginning of this northern expedition had gone very well… but the initial push was always the strongest point. Their numbers swelled slightly from surrendering lords, but enthusiasm and unity both suffered as a consequence. And as they headed further, their most striking weakness would be put plainly on display: their lack of quality spellcasters.

The carriage Elenore rode slowed steadily until it stopped. Outside, someone new entered her field of perception—it took her only a heartbeat to recognize the dark hair, tan skin, and golden eyes as Durran. He opened the door.

“Princess,” he greeted, offering his hand to help her down.

Elenore took his hand, alighting as gracefully as she could. “Is the opposition as we feared from Castle Cookpot?” Elenore asked at once, sparing her own greeting.

“Worse, reasonably,” Durran replied without hesitation. “As a matter of fact… I’m getting a rather bad feeling about things.”

Elenore took a deep breath and sighed as they walked along a well-worn road that had been trampled down by a marching army. “Why is that?”

“They’ve made a name for themselves. It’s always bad when they unify enough to decide on a name,” he said half in jest as he made a show of leading Elenore along. “The Unhanded Coalition stands ahead. All of the reports I read from your people suggest this isn’t a headless organization. Indeed, they’re rather well-headed and unified in purpose, despite the lack of support from local lords. And worst of all… they’ve gotten very adept at using the taiga around the mountains to their massive advantage. Forget taking fortresses—we can hardly advance an inch more. More died last night than the first week of the war. Our casualties aren’t astronomical, but ambushing, covert operations, sabotage… we’re fighting an enemy of a different sort, now.”

Elenore gripped Durran’s arm a little tighter. “It seems like things are finally coming to a head.”

#####

Vasilisa, Argrave, and his companions followed Pavel into the Drawnwater estate without encountering much fuss at all. There were guards, but the only discourtesies they offered were somewhat awed glances at the presence of three people as large as the snow elves. No words were exchanged between any as they were led to a private room with only two black couches with a table between them.

Argrave took the central seat of the couch, Galamon to his left, Vasilisa and Anneliese to his right. Pavel Drawnwater sat across, scrutinizing. He had eyes as green as freshly printed dollar bills. Once the niceties had passed he spoke with the principle that time was precious: namely, briefly. He had no guards with him. Even Bran Livermore, their initial point of contact, had left along the way.

Was it boldness, or arrogance? Argrave didn’t think so. Maybe Pavel was merely sensible enough to realize not much could be done in the face of a Magister if they wanted him dead. It matched with the man’s personality well enough: he was quite shrewd.

“I’d like to hear what exactly this business opportunity of yours offers, Magister Vasilisa,” he said, respectfully though insistently. “Even now, I know nothing of it.”

“That’s because it demands secrecy,” Argrave spoke for her. Only then did Pavel’s eyes focus on him.

Pavel leaned forward to the edge of his couch. “Yes… I’m told you’ve been speaking for Magister Vasilisa. Why is that?”

“Because he handles the business side of things for me,” Vasilisa summarized.

Pavel nodded. “And are you certain that he has your best interest at heart?”

Argrave said decisively, “Our interests are closely tied. You might say they’re one in the same. And she needs my specialty—or rather, my people’s specialty—to access this wealth.”

Pavel nodded. “Not my concern, anyway. What does concern me is a need for secrecy. I don’t break the law.”

“The need for secrecy stems from the fact that I’m in debt to Margrave Ivan,” Vasilisa answered. “Frankly put, I think this business might have a way of freeing me from my debt in short order. I am convinced Ivan prefers to have my house in his debt than to have the money we owe him. As such, I’d like to earn the money quietly and expediently, then pay him back all at once.”

“I see,” Pavel nodded, wrapping his hands together. “I think I’m obligated to inform you my cousin is married to the margrave.”

“I know,” Vasilisa nodded. “That’s part of the reason I decided to reach out.”

“How do you like your cousin’s marriage to the margrave?” Argrave pressed.

Pavel frowned, evidently confused. “Is this pertinent?”

“Very,” Argrave nodded. “So… your answer?”

“It’s been a blessing to my house,” Pavel said simply.

Anneliese coughed. It was a premeditated signal—she felt confident in proceeding.

“But that isn’t the whole of it, is it?” Argrave pressed. “Everyone wants to be happy. Everyone wants a happy family life.”

Pavel looked unamused. “Are you speculating about something?”

Anneliese coughed once more.

“No. Maybe I can state a few facts, though,” Argrave shook his head. “Margrave Ivan has a history of unfaithfulness. He turned his back on Quadreign all those years ago. Maybe we’re trying to justify the need for secrecy… or maybe there’s something more,” Argrave suggested calmly. “A lot of new details have come to light in Quadreign—details that could shake many foundations.”

“What kind of details?” Pavel pressed evenly, well-used to vague situations like this in the circles he travelled.

“Old secrets to confirm. New secrets to deliver,” Argrave shrugged. “They’re both related and unrelated to the matter at hand. But like I said… your cousin Sophia is a point of interest.”

“I see.” Pavel leaned back into the couch. Then, he reached over, tapping his knuckle against the table. A man walked in, and Pavel whispered some words into his ear. Once the man left, Pavel continued, “She’s here, as it so happens. Considering the things you’re mentioning, I think it’d be best to involve her.”

Argrave shared a glance with Vasilisa. Just like that, the woman they’d wanted to involve would be coming here.

“Well… that’s good to hear,” Argrave said enthusiastically.

Pavel gave a tired-looking smile in response, then sat quietly on the couch doing nothing other than staring. Soon enough, the door opened. A tall, blonde, green-eyed woman entered, dressed in furs of vibrant colors. Behind her, another woman stood—she was blonde, had blue eyes, and looked much like the person sitting just beside him.

“Pavel,” Margravine Sophia greeted. “What’s this?”

“A few guests. I believe my man told you who they are,” Pavel answered succinctly.

“He did,” Sophia nodded. “That’s why this one came along,” she stepped out of the doorway, allowing the other woman passage.

“Svetlana?” Vasilisa rose to her feet. “What are you doing here?”

Svetlana of Quadreign stepped into the room. “It really is you. I thought there must be some mistake. You’re here by chance, auntie? I thought you might’ve received my letter, but that can’t be right.”

“Letter? What about?” Vasilisa stepped forward. “Nothing… nothing’s wrong, is it? I thought you were in the south, in the Tower of the Gray Owl.”

“I was, but…” Svetlana’s eyes fell upon the three of them in the room with curiosity. “…some things came up. I made a friend. As did you, so it seems.”