The Vampire & Her Witch

”I haven’t pulled them along that far, they won’t fight for us yet,” Ashlynn said with a sad shake of her head. ”It doesn’t matter to them whether the Vale rises or falls. It’s too far away and nothing is at stake. The few who still trade with us only trade in meager quantities. It’s not enough to fight a war to defend.”

”The Vale of Mists was once a gateway to trade between the eastern lowlands and the western highlands,” Ashlynn continued. ”Blackwell County is the same. It’s one of three gateways between the Kingdom of Gaal and old countries across the sea. People will pledge soldiers to protect their wealth,” she said firmly. ”We just need to give enough people on this side of the mountains a reason to tie their wealth up in the Vale of Mists.”

”This is a human way of conducting business,” Nyrielle said, shaking her head at her young Seneschal. ”The Eldritch bow down to strength. Strength is what gained me the army that will march home with us and strength is the only language that the people of this arena mad nation will speak.”

”You’re wrong, my love,” Ashlynn said, giving Nyrielle a gentle poke. Behind her, Virve nearly stumbled as they walked along when she heard the casual way that Ashlynn told Lady Nyrielle that she was wrong in such a blunt way, but Nyrielle only seemed curious, cocking her head slightly as she listened to Ashlynn’s explanation.

”High Lady Erna’s family has ruled for too long,” Ashlynn said. ”Their strength has become unassailable. It’s the same in the Kingdom of Gaal, especially in the eastern lands like Blackwell County.”

”In the Frontier, places like Lothian March, humans are fighting to conquer new land,” Ashlynn explained. ”They want to use strength to seize opportunities they’re denied anywhere else. In a way, the humans along the Frontier are the most similar to the Eldritch traditions that you’re familiar with.”

”I don’t entirely approve of that comparison,” Nyrielle said, frowning at Ashlynn. At the moment, there was no one around them as they walked through the portion of the palace that had been reserved almost exclusively for their use, and she was willing to indulge Ashlynn’s choice of phrases but a time would come not long from now when they would need to be united in both words and actions. ”But go on...”

”The Eldritch people in the High Fen have more in common with Blackwell County than they do with Lothian March,” Ashlynn said confidently. ”There are three paths to power in the High Fen. A person can amass great personal strength and challenge High Lady Erna and her family for the rule of the High Fen. Fewer than one in one hundred thousand people have that kind of strength so no one even thinks about that anymore.”

”The more open path is in the arenas scattered across the High Fen. The arenas in High Fen City are the greatest, but there are other small towns that still have their own arenas, and even the most humble villager with dreams of greatness can find themselves on a road that leads to the great arena in High Fen City.”

”As I said,” Nyrielle said, giving Ashlynn’s hand a gentle squeeze. ”The High Fen is arena-mad. They value the strength they see proven on the sands. That’s why I needed to take to the sands myself to win over the champions I needed to retake the Vale.”

”But there’s a third contest that is every bit as vicious as the one between gladiators on the sands,” Ashlynn pointed out. ”In fact, it even influences the battles in the arena. The High Fen is still a tremendous hub for trade flowing up and down the length of the mountains, or heading from anywhere along the mountains to the western interior. That’s given rise to merchants who are no less calculating or ambitious than the Guild Masters I knew in Blackwell County.”

”The merchants here share the same frustrations I saw in Blackwell County,” Ashlynn added. ”In Blackwell, even the wealthiest merchant can’t hope to become a knight unless one of the existing noble families falls from grace or dies without heirs. All the good land was carved up generations ago, and what little remains isn’t enough to support a proper noble title.”

”And that’s why your father was so eager to marry you to that vile man?” Nyrielle said, her expression darkening as a trace of dark, shadowy energy flickered across her eyes. ”He risked his eldest daughter for a chance to raise his station because he couldn’t do it himself in Blackwell County?”

”That, that isn’t quite it,” Ashlynn said quickly. Now that everything had happened, it was easy to blame her father for the arrangement he had brokered with Bors Lothian but in the end, Ashlynn had volunteered so long as she felt that she could trust Owain after a few years of courtship. Much of the blame for what happened next belonged to her and she didn’t want Nyrielle to judge her father unfairly before she even met him.

”My father was suffering a different pressure,” Ashlynn explained. ”He didn’t have an heir. But the Lothians haven’t had difficulty siring multiple sons in every generation,” she said. ”Bors Lothian offered that, so long as my firstborn son could inherit the Lothian throne, my second born could return to Blackwell County to inherit my father’s title.”

”It still seems foolish to me,” Nyrielle said, her expression softening as she felt Ashlynn’s heart quicken when she raced to defend her father. ”All of that time spent waiting for someone who can claim a blood relationship and to what end? Not every descendant is fit to rule. The people of Blackwell County would be better off if your father invested his time in training a successor who isn’t related to him, but instead, he’s sold you off in the hopes that you could deliver him a child to thrust upon his throne.”

”That...” Ashlynn began awkwardly. ”That’s something that humans see differently. But the desire to enter the nobility, or to preserve one’s position as a member of the aristocracy, is a powerful motivator. That’s why, when I wrote to Master Isabell and the other guild masters in Blackwell County, I encouraged them to press Owain for titles and lands. By making them believe he could offer those concessions, they should be willing to put aside their differences with each other to cooperate on an opportunity that is unlikely to occur again in their lifetimes.”

”And you say that these human merchants, who squabble among each other for wealth, are similar to the merchants in the High Fen?” Nyrielle asked, not entirely sure she believed Ashlynn. ”Since when did the people of the High Fen care so much about wealth when they should be seeking glory in the arenas?”

”You know,” Ashlynn said, shifting her approach slightly. ”Heila’s battles in the arena aren’t being fought between her and the champions of the arena. Not really, though a few have stood forth to meet her on the sands,” Ashlynn said. ”The person that Heila is really fighting against is the spice merchant Yotsun. In fact, the first groups of men that Yotsun sent after her were all gladiators who had their training funded by Yotsun and his shipping company.”

”You’re saying that the people without the ability to fight for themselves will use piles of gold and jewels to dictate the actions of those with the strength to fight?” Nyrielle asked, giving Ashlynn a quizzical look.

”More or less,” Ashlynn agreed. ”Fighting men are expensive. Weapons, armor, food, lodging, training, salaries, death benefits... All of it adds up. The merchants of the High Fen are competing to control the strongest gladiators, but it goes further than that. Countless gladiators, raised and trained by these merchants, retire from the sands to take up positions in the mercenary forces these merchants rely on to protect their caravans of goods.”

”So winning the battle to develop the greatest champions means gaining the strongest protection for their business,” Nyrielle said with a slow nod. Because she possessed the strength to not only dominate the arena but to challenge High Lady Erna if she wished, she’d never concerned herself with the ’lesser’ struggles for power within the High Fen but now that Ashlynn laid it out for her, she could see the way that the web of interests could distort the struggle for real strength.

”And you’ve been waging war with these merchants since you arrived?” Nyrielle asked. ”You seem to have developed a very deep understanding of them in a very short period of time.”

”I told you, didn’t I?” Ashlynn said with an impish look as if she’d been caught at some piece of mischief. ”These people are very similar to the merchants in Blackwell County. Once I understood the game they were playing, it was easy enough to join them.”

”Tonight, I’ve picked the very best seeds to present to you,” Ashlynn said. ”None of them will bring us soldiers in the fall, and even if we plant them carefully and shower them with attention for the next year, they may not sprout. For some, it could be two or three years before they bear fruit. But I promise you, my love,” she said with deep, genuine feeling.

”If you trust me tonight, and you trust the value of the people I’ve gathered,” Ashlynn said. ”Then the Vale of Mists will reap a harvest like none it’s seen since the Lothians built their temple.”