Last Life

Book 3: Chapter 9: Interlude 3

Herouxville

New Capital

The de Gramont manor

TO SAY THAT HEINRICH DE GRAMONT was angry would be an understatement. And it was all down to the punk Renard, his brother’s bastard. This worthless man, who had been begging him not to be sent away from the capital just a year earlier, was now starting to show some pluck.

When Heinrich sent Yveline and Valerie to fetch Renard, he figured the news of his upcoming marriage to a wealthy bride would have the man crawling to him on hands and knees, but instead he refused. Meanwhile, both his daughter and niece told Heinrich utterly implausible fables about the insolent twerp.

Heinrich had become aware that Renard was in debt to almost all aristocrats and people of good name in Abbeville. He also knew that his nephew had nearly been struck down in a duel over some third-rate actress. As an aside, Heinrich de Gramont wasn’t the least bit surprised by any of that news. It was all entirely in Renard’s character. Ferdinand had paid no attention to raising his bastard, which turned him into this worthless man — at once vicious and wayward.

And so, word that Renard the coward and pushover was suddenly champion of a tournament in a neighboring county, and then had slain one of Vestonia’s greatest swordsmen in a single blow was initially completely implausible to Heinrich. But then, after the captain he’d sent to keep Yveline and Valerie safe sent a report corroborating their every word, he’d started to believe. In fact, the captain claimed that Renard was not only a masterful swordsman, he had been trained in some rather unusual melee tactics. He dispatched some of Heinrich’s experienced retinue men like they were small children. In other words, it was a kind of mastery that would take more than a few months to achieve. The result of many years of diligent training.

Heinrich refused to believe that Ferdinand had raised his bastard to be a warrior since childhood. Furthermore, by all appearances, Renard was not merely a highly skilled fighter, but an excellent actor to boot. To so easily pretend to be worthless would have taken the skills of a professional actor. Heinrich was eager to believe that theory. However, the story did have one caveat. He had known his nephew practically since he was a baby. The Renard he knew never would have stood a chance against a professional brawler, much less have agreed of his own free will to join the Shadow Patrol for a pittance. The Renard he had sent into exile around one year ago would have come to the capital to be wed at a moment’s notice.

So Heinrich de Gramont’s anger was overtaken by curiosity. And when he found out that Renard had been in the capital for a few days already without showing his face to the head of house, he wasn’t the least bit surprised.

Heinrich regarded himself as a cold-blooded and patient creature. Once when he was still a child, while playing “the animal game” with his brother, sister, and cousins, it took him a long time to decide which creature suited him best. Ferdinand, as was completely expected, chose the lion. His sister went for a snake. Big Bastien picked mountain goat, his brother took bear, but Heinrich had simply been given a sheet with a shrimp on it. And ever since that day, thanks to Ferdinand’s off-handed decision, he had been known as Henri the Shrimp.

On that day, little Henri stuffed himself away in a wardrobe to cry in anger. But there, he was found by his grandmother, the Countess de Gramont. She put him up on her knee and quickly got to the bottom of her youngest grandson’s hysterics, then asked to be shown the cruel sheet Henri was still squeezing in his tiny little hand.

When she saw the image on the silver sheet, she gave a clever smile. And told her captivated grandson that it was no common shrimp — it was a mantis shrimp. And in contrast to the peaceable common shrimp, mantis shrimp were highly dangerous predators that could sit in ambush for days on end. But when they spotted their prey, mantis shrimp could slay so quickly and with such force, that they only needed a single blow. Then they could eat all their foe’s guts at their leisure.

That information perked little Henri right up. Encouraged, he found all books in the family library mentioning the unusual creature. There was a reason they said one’s first round of “the animal game” to some extent determined their fate. Heinrich, like a mantis shrimp, learned to wait for his opportunity.

Ferdinand, who had chosen lion, overestimated his strength, and Heinrich was able to land a crushing death blow. Thanks to that tactic, he was no longer viscount, but the sole Count de Gramont. Could his grandmother have imagined that her youngest grandson would one day use what she taught him to take down her oldest grandson, the legal heir to House de Gramont?

“Your Lordship, Chevalier Renard is here,” the count’s valet said in an even tone. “Shall I send him in?”

Heinrich de Gramont, distracting himself from reminiscing, looked at his servant and said:

“Send him in.”

The Count looked at the time and snorted. Noon on the dot. Surprisingly, the scoundrel had come right on time. Heinrich had told him to come two hours before lunch. The count wanted to voice his opinion about his brother’s bastard’s new image.

A few moments later, the door to his office opened and Max Renard walked inside. Heinrich greeted his nephew from a deep armchair behind his desk. He didn’t pretend to shuffle through papers the way clerks from the royal chancery did when they wanted to appear busy and make visitors feel uncomfortable. No. Heinrich was above all those plebian tactics. He knew his worth and his station.

The count was sitting in his armchair with his elbows on the arm rests and chin resting on tented hands. Like a mantis shrimp, he was waiting for his prey to come close before landing the fatal blow.

However, the man who entered did not much look like prey. Heinrich at first didn’t even recognize his nephew. That was how much he’d changed physically. He remembered Max as a rosy-cheeked round-faced young man with puffy hands and fearful, darting eyes.

Now, the man standing before him was the polar opposite of that Max. Tan, lean. With a confident gait, wiry like a wild animal. A cold, piercing and somewhat ironic look in his eyes. Heinrich thought for a moment that his nephew was looking straight through him. That sent a shiver down the count’s spine. He was staring down a predator. Young, brash, ready to go for the throat at a moment’s notice. The count, much to his own surprise, recalled his captain’s report on Max and started believing every word.

The count looked his nephew’s chiseled body from head to toe. His simple yet high-quality outfit made for a stark contrast with the brightly colored fashionable clothing his own sons preferred.

Heinrich’s studious gaze suddenly caught on a small silver bauble hanging over Renard’s chest. François, complaining about the rude and brash bastard paying a visit to his former manor, mentioned his cousin’s horrid attire and tasteless jewelry. At the time, Heinrich didn’t pay any attention to his son’s words. But unlike his youngest, the count knew all about every last medal and decoration given out in Vestonia. Particularly ones like the Silver Wing of Strix. Furthermore, over the entire history of house de Gramont, just two of its members had been deemed worthy of the distinction. And now some bastard born of the daughter of a merchant was flaunting that very medal all around town. Heinrich had a hard time holding in a curse, which very nearly slipped through his lips.

And again that sardonic gaze. It was as if Ferdinand’s bastard could read his thoughts.

“Your Lordship,” Renard bowed respectfully. “Uncle, let me express my gratitude for the invitation. It is an honor for me.”

“You didn’t seem to be in any great hurry,” Heinrich snorted. “I seem to recall sending for you in the winter.”

Renard shrugged. The look of contrition on his face was so affected it made Heinrich want to roll his eyes and laugh. But again he held it in. Not a muscle on his face twitched.

“I was delayed by extraordinary circumstances,” Renard came. “My duty to the crown.”

“What about after that?” Heinrich asked. “After your duty had been fulfilled? As an aside, you cannot even begin to imagine the effort it cost me to secure your release.”

The Count de Gramont there allowed himself a little white lie. In reality, his petition to the king on Max Renard’s behalf was approved surprisingly quickly. So quickly that Heinrich was expecting there to be a catch. But then he cast those foolish thoughts aside.

“The war,” Max shrugged. “I needed to prepare for the journey. The roads are teeming with raiders and recruiters. And as an aside, I personally would rather meet the former.”

Heinrich caught himself thinking he was in full agreement with his nephew. The rumors of out-of-control headhunters had already made their way to Herouxville. The count then decided that the young man standing before him, despite being the youngest member of his family, had a manner of behaving that gave off an air of adult sophistication. François or Gabriel meanwhile, the Count de Gramont’s sons, were like snot-nosed teenagers compared to Max. And that realization drove Heinrich to madness. Even from beyond the grave, Ferdinand seemed to be mocking him. Henri the Shrimp! He heard his boyhood voice ringing from the distant past.

“Sit,” despite the inner strife, Heinrich’s voice came across stable and colorless. “We have much to discuss.”

Renard bowed and easily plopped down into the chair opposite the table. Crossing his legs and tenting his fingers, he put his hands on his knees.

“We must agree on a date for the ceremony with de Marbot,” Heinrich got straight to business.

“Why the de Marbots?” Max asked unexpectedly. He was not indignant or whiny like his sons when Heinrich offered them to go pick out an elite bride. On the contrary, his nephew’s tone was matter of fact and a bit world weary.

“A year ago, you were on your knees in this very office begging me not to send you away from the capital,” the count began coldly. “You ignored every explanation about it being for your own good. I promised to find you a wealthy, elite bride. And only then did you agree to go. And I kept my word.”

That same sardonic smile appeared on Max’s face. Now the impudent man looked more like his late father than ever before.

“And indubitably, uncle, I thank you for taking on such an insurmountable burden as caring for me.”

For an instant, Heinrich thought he saw a flicker of something animal in Renard’s eyes. What happened to the old Max?!

“I don’t much feel it,” Heinrich came indignantly.

“You must not have fully understood me, uncle.” Again that smile. “I give thanks to the gods every day for sending me such a caring uncle. You are experienced. You wish happiness and good fortune on the son of your beloved brother. I trust you and respect your choice. But before I bind my fate to the Viscountess de Marbot, I would like to know why she specifically was worthy of your choice.”

Heinrich frowned.

“Isn’t it obvious? She’s from an ancient family, and she’s wealthy. Also, she’s rumored to be very pretty, smart, and modest. What more could you want from a wife? Furthermore, there isn’t exactly a line out the door of fathers from noble lineages wishing to give their daughters’ hands to you.”

“Fair,” Max nodded. “That gives rise to a logical question.”

“What then?” Heinrich asked.

“If this Viscountess de Marbot is like you say she is, why would her father want a man like me? Sure my father recognized me, but everyone knows me as a bastard, illegitimate. And so I wonder — what’s in it for them?”

Heinrich spent a short while in silence, looking closely at his nephew, who had changed so unexpectedly and grown smarter over the past year. Then he made a decision.

“Your marriage to the viscountess will put an end to a many-year conflict between our families, which your father never got around to resolving.”

“Over what?” Max asked shortly.

For a moment, the duke thought his nephew knew more than he was letting on.

“The boundary of the Forest of Thiliez. This way, we can delineate it amicably.”

“What is its value?”

“Several thousand acres of highly valuable yew trees,” Heinrich decided to reply honestly. “Worth a lot of money.”

“I see,” Max said, thoughtfully stroking his chin.

Heinrich was caught off guard by his nephew’s calm reaction.

“What do I stand to gain personally?” Renard asked matter-of-factly and added wryly: “Other than a gorgeous bride of course.”

Heinrich opted not to mention the viscountess’ infertility. Let it come as a surprise to the impudent man when all was said and done.

“As usual in such situations, you would be made baron of the lands you receive with your bride’s dowry.”

“Hm...” Max rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Tempting offer.”

“And as I said — the only one,” Heinrich came.

“Now that’s where you’re wrong, uncle,” Renard replied. “Your nephew isn’t all that hopeless.”

Heinrich’s brows shot into his forehead.

“Explain.”

“Are you aware of the Gilbert Trading House?” Max asked, tilting his head.

“Merchants?” Heinrich winced. Much to his own surprise, he felt vexed. His “upgraded” nephew had made an impression on him, and now this misstep. “It’s like you didn’t hear me.”

“I have merchant blood in my veins,” Max laughed.

“But first of all, you are a recognized son of Ferdinand de Gramont,” Heinrich came, thrusting his chin forward.

“And yet,” Max continued insistently. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“Because there’s no point,” Heinrich threw out. “No merchants are worthy of the honor of marrying a de Gramont.”

“What if those merchants controlled the entire wine trade in Vestonia?” Renard asked insinuatingly, staring Heinrich straight in the eyes. “They essentially have a monopoly. Sure, Thomas Gilbert is no aristocrat, but he has more money than the Count de Marbot could ever dream of. Thomas Gilbert could buy the Forest of Thiliez three times over in its entirety. Think, uncle, what our house could do with finances like that.”

Heinrich said nothing. This impudent man had sewed a seed of doubt in his mind.

“He is a merchant,” the count stated conclusively. Though there was no confidence in his voice. It was as if he was giving Max a chance to win him over.

“I meanwhile am a mere bastard,” Renard shrugged. “I am not suggesting you marry one of your own sons to Gilbert’s daughter. Society will understand. And as for the Forest of Thiliez...”

“The Count de Marbot also has a son,” Heinrich interrupted thoughtfully. “I could just as easily let him have one of your blood sisters.”

Just then, a muted squeak of fear came from behind a heavy curtain. Renard turned to the sound and Heinrich frowned. That wretched girl was eavesdropping again. It couldn’t have been anyone else. Only she could get away with such behavior. Heinrich sighed silently. His little Yveline was his weak spot.

As an aside, the count thought it didn’t come as much of a surprise to Max. It was as if he already knew there was someone behind the curtain. Heinrich waved off the random thoughts.

“Yveline!” the count called strictly. “Come out!”

Renard stood and shook off his doublet. A muted creak came from behind the door the curtain was covering, and a frightened little blonde-haired head peeked out.

“Max!” she smiled embarrassedly. “You came! How nice to see you. You’ve certainly matured.”

“My dearest cousin,” Renard smiled back with a gallant bow. “You look better every day. I’m happy to see you again!”

“Daughter!” Heinrich called attention to himself. “This behavior is unbecoming.”

“Daddy!” she shot out rapid-fire. “Mother wanted me to call you. The table is set. We’re only waiting for you. Mother also wanted me to warn you that Aunty Jeanne has come to visit.”

Heinrich winced as if he’d eaten a lemon. All his annoyance at his willful daughter was swept away. The news of the Duchess du Bellay’s visit instantly spoiled the count’s appetite. Jeanne du Bellay, Heinrich and Ferdinand’s sister, known in the court as the Stone Lady, must have come for a reason. He’d have bet she had somehow found out that Renard was going to be at lunch. Which made him wonder. What could she want from the bastard?

“Okay then,” Heinrich said, getting up from the seat. “Let’s not keep them waiting.”