Tanya
Aboard the airship, seated at a small desk beside the little window, Tanya read her books and made notes as Ingrid had instructed. The list she had compiled from her reading and from advice gathered in conversation had already grown long.
She shifted in her seat, trying to ease the stiffness in her neck. The chair creaked softly beneath her. Only then did she lower her eyes and begin to read again in a low voice.
“A wise woman remembers that favor is watched as closely as anger. A smile too often seen, a hand laid too long upon a sleeve, a maid held above the others, a squire too much indulged, a widower too warmly welcomed, and soon folk will speak of designs where there were none.”
Tanya gave a small nod at the wisdom of the passage. It was another lesson to set firmly in memory, so she took up her quill, dipped it in ink, and began to write it down.
Even as she wrote, the image of Ingrid giving lessons rose in her mind. To become part of the court was more than sitting straight and using the right spoon. More than anything, her mentors wanted her to learn how not to become dangerous by accident. In a court, one wrong phrase, one wrong gift, one wrong seat, or one wrong promise could stir insult, debt, rumor, or factional trouble.
What gave her some comfort was that her brother Lansius had gone through much the same, if not far worse, for he had faced life-and-death struggles in numerous battles. Meanwhile, Tanya only needed to keep from causing trouble and from embarrassing everyone.
The feeling came back like a drop beneath her feet, that the gulf between her and her brother was so vast she could never truly cross it. For a moment, she wanted nothing more than to vanish and become a commoner again, but Tanya dismissed the thought. The retainers closest to her had convinced her that even the powerful Lord Lansius needed advice and support, and that she, as family, could offer him insight others lacked.
Still, it was absurd to think that the leader and creator of the Grand Alliance needed her counsel.
“The Shogunate.” Tanya let out a sigh, thinking of the plan her brother had championed to keep peace among the Lords.
Many retainers had praised it, for it had quickly stopped wars and brought change for the better. Ingrid had said it was not perfect, and that to many it looked little better than a hostage arrangement dressed in finer purpose, yet it was still a plan in which all involved chose to take part.
Tanya had seen for herself that even the defeated side wanted the alliance to endure.
But what the Shogunate truly was remained an enigma to her. No matter whom she spoke with about it, she felt she had only grazed the surface. In this, she could only take Sir Omin at his word that the plan was born of deep consideration, immense understanding of rulership, and wisdom that seemed almost timeless.
She let out a slow breath and rubbed her forehead. “Brother...”
For a lumberjack to have found him on the outskirts of Bellandia had been nothing short of providence, and for Mother to volunteer to care for him had been an even greater blessing. They had saved not merely a robbed merchant’s apprentice, but someone of far greater importance.
“Is this fate?” she asked softly, thinking of the tie between them. “Or am I merely a loose thread caught in his doublet?”
She often wondered where his brilliance had come from. Her eyes drifted to the small book among her belongings. It was The Rules of Princes, a work from the era of the Second Imperium. She had tried to read it, but much of it lay beyond her. Until last year, the hardest things she had needed to learn were how to make sauerkraut, remember her mother’s recipes, and clean the castle properly, not rulership or the management of retainers and an estate.
How much her station had changed.
But fate was fickle. For all her brother’s brilliance, he now lay stricken after falling ill during their stay at Campia Manor. Even after waiting another day, he still had not awakened, so Audrey and the council had decided to carry him aboard the airship, believing he would regain consciousness along the way.
Yet he remained asleep, even after their short stays in Ornietia and Ordu Khan. Physicians and tribesmen's shamans alike had examined him, to little result.
The fading light from the window drew her eye. The sun was sinking westward, and the air in the cabin was growing colder. Soon, the crew would close the airflow to a minimum to keep as much warmth inside as possible before night fully set in.
Realizing she had been distracted from her study, Tanya looked back at the list she had reordered and rewritten several times to help her commit it to memory.
There was little she could do about fate but keep improving herself.
First on the list was this. Never promise anything lightly. A kind word spoken in a hall could be heard and later claimed as a pledge. If she told the wrong man she would speak for him, or told a weeping woman she would help, others might take it as the Lord’s favor already granted.
Second, a feast was never merely a meal. It was a map of power laid across a table. Who sat beside whom, who was served the better drink, who was seen laughing together, who was kept apart, all of it carried meaning. A badly seated table could be remembered as keenly as an insult.
Third, she had to know rank before she opened her mouth. Who must be greeted first, who must be seated nearest the high table, who could be kept waiting, and who could not. One mistake might be taken for an insult, and even close allies could leave the hall with resentment in their hearts.
Fourth, a noble was always watched. A lady must not eat as if starved, nor stand fidgeting, nor hear insult and show the wound. She must not stare at silver, scars, or rich fabrics like a child at market. Likewise, what she wore was a statement.
A gown too poor would shame the whole House. One too rich would make her seem greedy or without taste. A color might speak of intent. A jewel might bind her to the hand that gave it.
Fifth, gifts were never merely gifts. A basket of costard from a farmer was one thing. A bolt of silk from a merchant was another. Jewelry, wine, horses, imported spice, each carried its own weight. To accept a gift carelessly was to let someone set a hook in her flesh.
Sixth, she had to learn who answered to whom. A noblewoman had to know the order of a household. Who gave orders to cooks, laundresses, ushers, chamber servants, clerks, and guards, and which matters had to pass through the proper hands. To correct a cook before the kitchen staff, or to give away stored food without record, would cause disorder, weaken authority, and breed resentment.
Seventh, she had to guard her seal as a swordsman guarded his blade. As the Lord’s sister, a letter sent in her name could move men, silver, grain, or rumor. One careless moment could arm another person with her authority.
Eighth, ink endured. One was encouraged to avoid promises, but if one had to be made, it should be set down in ink, worded with care, and done under the counsel of a senior scribe and her mentor.
Ninth, this was the worst of all. She had to memorize names, kinships, grudges, marriages, old alliances, dead sons, barren wives, foster ties, broken betrothals, and land disputes. Court was not held together by walls and banners alone, but by blood, oaths, old rivalries, and common cause.
Tenth, food, cloth, candles, lamp oil, wine, fodder, and firewood all cost money. She needed to learn what they cost, their quality, how long they lasted, and how easily they vanished. A noble House could bleed not only from swords, but also from waste, theft, and corruption.
Eleventh, she was to avoid foolish mercy. Charity had to be given with clarity and sound judgment. Shown too freely, it would draw flocks of liars who would soon become parasites at her side. Before giving, she had to know who truly needed help, who was a dependent of the House, and who had merely smelled a soft heart.
Twelfth, she had to learn how to listen to petitions without falling into their snares. The crying maids, the wounded laborer, the ruined merchant, the cheated tenant, each would come with need, and some with lies wrapped around it. She had to hear them, remember them, but promise nothing she could not truly give.
Thirteenth, one had to play their part. As the Lord’s sister and a married woman besides, it was not enough to be pretty and polished. They expected her to be another pair of eyes and ears in the Lord’s House. She was to keep note of what was said and what was promised, remember who had asked for what, and quietly mark what might matter to the Lord.
Her eyes began to wander as she tried to commit it all to heart.
Still, though she understood all this and saw the sense in it, the amount of conditioning required was a different matter. She sighed. Progress was slow, but she kept at it, knowing that many people, Lansius most of all, wished her to succeed.
A knock came at the door.
“Please come in,” Tanya said, turning toward it.
“Excuse me,” Squire Carla said, opening the door a crack. “The Lady of the House is calling for a meeting.”
“Of course. I’ll be there shortly.” Tanya closed her book at once and secured her ink and quill.
There was no need to ask where. They were aboard an airship, and only the galley was wide enough for such a meeting.
***
Airship Galley
On board the airship, Audrey held a meeting after they had crossed the Great Plains of Lowlandia and were now nearing the city of Korelia. They had hoped Lansius would awaken by then, but his condition had not improved.
“Everything appears normal,” the physician said wearily, having checked on the Lord two hours ago. “His breathing is slow but steady. His heartbeat is calm, almost like someone deep in meditation. There is no fever, no bleeding, and no sign of injury on his body.”
“And yet he will not wake,” Audrey said bluntly. The physician had nothing to add.
The council consisted of the red-haired young Lady Ella of Dawn, Lady Astrid of White Lake, Sir Michael, and Lady Tanya. Apart from the nobles, Squire Margo, the old scribe, and the young one were also present. Low murmurs passed among them as they spoke of the Lord’s condition.
Meanwhile, in another corner, Mother Arryn and Carla kept Baby Gilly occupied while a maid tended to Baby Sigrid, who was several months older.
With nothing else to report, Audrey allowed the physician and his aide to return to their cabin, which they shared with the guards and crewmen.
Turning back to the council, she spoke. “I assure you, we hide nothing from the members of the Shogunate. But we ask that this be kept among those at the highest level.”
Lady Astrid dipped her head. “I am grateful for the openness.”
Audrey nodded to her and added, “Lord Lansius is the glue that holds us together, but more than that, I believe each of us truly wants the Great Alliance to last.”
“Be assured that no matter what, we will strive to keep the Shogunate whole,” said the one-eyed Sir Michael, son-in-law of Lord Robert of White Lake.
At Audrey’s side, the young Lady Ella added, “We of Dawn have benefited greatly from the Shogunate. It is beyond us to scheme against something that has supported our land and our people.”
Audrey gave her a warm nod.
“Should the unexpected come to pass,” Sir Michael said carefully, “I believe White Lake will remain steadfast. By joining forces instead of squabbling among ourselves, we have seen what can be achieved.”
Lady Astrid was quick to add in her soft voice, “My father sometimes saw the Lord as the son he never had. I believe he would stand with you, My Lady, and champion the Shogunate so long as it remained true.”
“I fear I lack the talent for that,” Audrey said out of politeness.
“Fear not,” Sir Michael said. “With peace and Midlandia’s grain, people across the realm have had food to spare. It is plain to see that what the Lord has built has borne fruit. The wise course now is to preserve his work. Even if we can do nothing new, we can at least hold fast to what the Lord Shogun has won for us.”
Audrey looked to each of them, then bowed her head. “I appreciate your support in these trying times.”
“If I may add,” Sir Michael said, “it does not seem that the sickness is all that grave. Perhaps the Lord is merely exhausted.”
“It is probably how foreigners cope with exhaustion,” Lady Astrid suggested.
Lady Tanya seemed interested to hear more, though still wary of drawing attention to herself.
Audrey recalled something and turned to Lady Ella. “The Lord once said he had been marooned, much like your ancestors. Perhaps you know something of this kind of sickness?”
“I will send a discreet message home. If we have anything, you will know as soon as possible,” the young lady replied.
Audrey turned aside and exhaled deeply. Despite her dreamwalking abilities, she could see nothing. It was as if he had sunk so deep that nothing could reach him. Even Gilly’s cries did not stir him. During the flight, Audrey often cared for the child inside the cabin herself, almost as if asking the baby to wake his father.
She regretted delaying her message to the one other person she truly trusted in this matter, Valerie. Fortunately, Toruna had a common Hunter, and through hawk messages, Valerie had replied that she would head to Korelia before winter if she could. The problem was that Sir Stan’s wound was quite severe, and he trusted no Monastery Sister, nor anyone else, to heal him.
Even the baronet, despite his usual bravado, had seemed deeply shaken by the Saint’s madness and the horror of the undead.
Drawing in a deep breath, Audrey muttered, “Seven nights...”
Hearing that, Sir Michael said, “I once read of a hermit who could sit unmoving for a very long time.”
“Oh, an elf as well,” Astrid added, drawing some of their attention.
The old scribe offered his thought. “The shaman seems quite confident that this was a curse.”
Back at the Monastery, Audrey had seen the curses upon Francisca and Sir Harold. She had seen nothing of the sort on Lansius.
In fact, to most Mages, Lansius was almost clean of aura, something that had long troubled many, even Valerie and Ingrid, who had taught Audrey magic.
That had led many, including the Shamans and the Hunter with them, to suspect that the problem lay in the Lord’s lack of magical properties. But Audrey had known Lansius long enough to reject that. He had always been like that, ever since she first learned to see auras. In truth, Audrey and Sir Morton were among the few who could see his aura at all. And even then, it was no more than a faint trace.
However, she could not reveal this to the council. To do so might raise questions about her hidden abilities.
For a time, the council continued discussing the matter among themselves, but before long, they ran into an impasse.
Audrey changed the subject. “What troubles me is Korelia.”
Even without explanation, the council understood. It had been part of their discussion even before they boarded the flight.
The Korelians had surely expected the Lord’s return, and at the sight of his airship, they would have welcomed him with great celebration. If they learned what had happened to him, it would be a grave blow. It might even rupture the peace they had worked so hard to build.
Everyone knew they had to tread carefully. Over this land, Lansius was greater than any living Lord.
That was why they had been cruising slowly, not only to save fuel, but also to buy themselves more time. If nothing changed, the plan was to descend at night and enter the castle in complete secrecy. The next day, they would release an official notice that the Lord needed to recuperate after his battle against a lich and her undead. After that, they would hold a victory parade to calm the people.
It would buy them a little more time.
Audrey hoped that Calub the alchemist, who was quite capable, might still be able to do something, for the physicians were already at their wits’ end. Even the Shamans could do little but pray to the vast skies.
She herself had tried everything, even mage’s milk, which the Shaman claimed had healing virtue.
From the rear of the galley came a soft mechanical rattle, and they saw the folding ladder being lowered through the hatch in the floor. Before long, a crewman climbed up from below and made his way toward Audrey.
“Another maintenance issue?” she asked. The airship had yet to undergo a major refit since arriving in Midlandia, and the journey to Korelia was no short trip.
“Yes, My Lady, but it can wait. We have had a good tailwind since morning, so we will reach Korelia before sundown,” the crewman reported. “The pilot asks if he should stall.”
A few of the council shifted uneasily. Even the wind had turned against them.
The crewman suggested, “I can instruct the pilot to circle wide. No one below will see us."
Audrey did not answer at once. She knew better than to waste precious fuel. So instead, she turned to the seated figure with golden hair. “Tanya,” she called softly, “would you check on the Lord again for us?”
“Of course.” Tanya rose with quiet grace and made her way toward the master cabin.
Behind her, the low murmur in the galley did not cease as they argued over the best course of action. Meanwhile, one corner was far merrier. Whenever Baby Sigrid was brought close to Gilly, she often laughed, and the sound drew chuckles from those nearby.
As Tanya reached the door, she knocked out of habit and announced herself. “Excuse me.”
A voice answered from inside. “Wait, wait. I’m not decent. I’ll be there in a moment.”
“Of course,” Tanya replied automatically, then froze. Her eyes widened. She turned back toward the council, where half of them were already on their feet.
“Lansius...?” she muttered nervously, barely above a breath, turning her gaze back to the door as if opening it might break whatever fragile hope had just taken shape.
“Did I hear that correctly?” Sir Michael asked Astrid, his wife.
There was no need for an answer. Audrey was already striding toward the cabin. “Lans, I’m coming in,” she said, her voice tight as she pushed the door open.
Lansius stood there half-dressed, in the middle of changing. His shoulders were still reddened, his body marked with bruises, one hand caught in his clothes. For the briefest moment, he looked at them with faint amusement before complaining, “Oi, shut the door. I’m changing clothes here.”
But the only answer he got was a cry that burst from deep in the chest.
“LANSIUS!”
***
PS: Sorry for the late release. I have had too many things to deal with, and feel a bit under the weather at the moment. The noisy house renovation a few houses from here has not helped my concentration either.🫠
So, this chapter, we see Tanya and her struggle as Lansius’ sister. Much is expected of her.
We also see what might happen if something were to happen to Lansius and his Shogunate.
Also, Baby Sigrid is making her debut. She is Astrid and Michael’s daughter, and the heir to White Lake.🤗
So, not even the Shamans know what is wrong with him. With something like this, I think Lansius would be too afraid to sleep. It could turn into a problem.🤔
As always, gratitude for supporting Horizon of War! 💎💖🦆