The morning began too peacefully for Valos, which in itself was a bad sign. He sat in his study, sorting through a pile of documents about grain deliveries, and thought with longing that being a calculating manager was far more boring than being a reckless drunkard. «I never thought atonement for my sins against the family would smell not of incense, but of dust from parchment scrolls,» he noted with a bitter smirk.
His reflections were interrupted by a clear, measured step tapping against the stone flags. In the doorway, not hiding his usual disapproval, stood Corvus. His white hair was perfectly styled, and his red doublet sat without a single crease.
— My lord, a messenger has arrived at the gates. From the eastern neighbor. A scroll with Lord Vigar's seal.
Valos slowly set down his quill. «Of course. The peace was too good to last long.» A familiar mix of irritation and excitement ran through his body. Lord Vigar, an old intriguer and my father's longtime rival, never stuck his long nose into our lands for no reason.
— Escort him to the small reception hall, — Valos ordered, rising. — And have them bring the cheapest wine. Not for drinking, but for show. Some messages are best read between the lines.
***
The small hall was gloomy and uncomfortable, deliberately so for such visits. Lord Vigar's messenger, a pompous man in an expensive but dust-covered cloak, stood in the middle of the hall, contemptuously surveying the modest surroundings. On the table before him stood a clay jug and an equally simple cup.
Valos entered unhurriedly, letting the messenger fully feel his own "insignificant" position. He leisurely walked to his chair, seating himself with the air of a man who had been distracted from extremely important affairs.
— Baronet Valos, — the messenger began without unnecessary ceremony. — My lord, Lord Vigar, sends you his... *concerned* inquiries. Suspicious individuals have been spotted on your lands. And also, — he drew out a meaningful pause, — persistent rumors are circulating about your... inappropriate behavior in the town tavern. My lord is concerned about the stability of the borders.
«How predictable,» Valos yawned mentally. «Came to put a spoke in my wheel, and under the pretext of "concern" no less.»
«He expects excuses, humiliation, attempts to buy him off. But I won't play by his rules.»
— I thank Lord Vigar for his tireless concern for our modest holdings, — Valos began. He paused to take a sip of water from his cup, demonstratively ignoring the wine. — As for the "suspicious individuals"... That is far less alarming than what I am about to share with you.
The messenger grew wary; his arrogant mask faltered for a moment.
— You see, — Valos continued, — my own sources... far more informed than town gossip... have brought some very alarming news. From the south, from the very outskirts, rare but... very disturbing rumors are reaching us.
He swept his gaze around the hall, as if afraid they might be overheard.
— They say a necromancer has appeared there. Not a charlatan, but a possessor of an ancient grimoire. One that can turn back death itself.
«Valos carefully watched the messenger's reaction. He paled; his fingers involuntarily gripped the edge of his cloak. The words "ancient grimoire" and "necromancer" had clearly struck a nerve.»
— These rumors are, of course, unlikely, — Valos immediately waved it off, pretending not to take them seriously. — But, you know, where there's smoke... And the smoke, apparently, is drifting eastward, towards Lord Vigar's fertile valleys. Strange, isn't it? «Here I have just a couple of sun-scorched hills, not even rich in decent graves. But he... entire villages, full of life force.» Or, forgive me, — he put on an apologetic smile — potential... material.
He stood up, signaling that the audience was over.
— So tell your lord that I share his concern. But let him turn his gaze to the real threat. And as for my... personal troubles, I'll manage them somehow myself. Corvus, see the guest out.
The messenger, completely bewildered, found nothing to say. He merely nodded and, muttering something unintelligible, left the hall.
Corvus, having returned, stood silently by the door. His piercing gaze was fixed on Valos.
Valos sighed heavily, walking over to the window. In the distance, beyond the hills, lay Vigar's lands.
— He wanted to pressure me, using my past. And I simply... redirected his attention to a more pressing matter. Now he'll be looking for a necromancer on his own lands, not sniffing around here. His lands will become our buffer. Let his soldiers be the first to meet the undead, if it even exists. — «And it does exist,» Valos thought with icy certainty. — We've bought ourselves time. And possibly weakened a future enemy.
— The first move is made, — Valos tore himself away from contemplating the horizon and turned to Corvus, his face suddenly becoming hard and focused. — Now the real work begins. This shadow from the south won't limit itself to Vigar's lands. It will come here too.
He strode sharply to the table and swept the peaceful documents about taxes and harvest lying there into a disorderly pile.
— The time for intrigue is over. Now, Corvus, gather a squad of our best fighters. And find me a map of the southern ruins — the one with markings about the Nagas' dungeons.
— Are we going hunting, my lord?
— No, — Valos smirked, — We're going for a weapon. There, in those ruins, lies the only thing that can stop an army of the dead. And we'll get it before the necromancer comes to his senses.
He looked out the window, where evening was beginning to gather.
— We have a month. No more. Then the shadow from the south will become a reality for all of us.