Heroes of Veritas: Crafting Bonus (Book 1)

Chapter Seven: The Trappings of Nobility

Elise spent the rest of her second day in Veritasia City gathering and completing the various fetch quests that comprised the first part of her personal story. She suspected these quests didn’t give her much in the way of experience, but since they took her through every ward in both the upper and lower district they did help her learn her way around. This had the bonus benefit of letting her pick up on the various pavement patterns that Rob had challenged her to learn.

Navigation had never been Elise’s strong suit in her previous life, but now that she was fully inhabiting the role of a ranger she found that retaining map knowledge was rather easy. If she paused and closed her eyes, she could even see a fairly detailed map of all the streets and alleyways she’d explored. 

In her previous life, Elise had read an interesting series of articles about mind palaces. Mind palaces were a mental aid that allowed people to build a location in their mind - like a library, or an office with filing cabinets -  where they could store and access knowledge they may not have otherwise retained. She supposed this mental mini map must be something similar.

With practice, she thought she could start associating specific locations in her mental mini map with their importance, either as points of interest or from a strategic standpoint; when the Second Desolation came it would be good to know the best places to hide, place siege weapons, or get height advantage for shooting foes that get past the walls.

After turning in her last quest, Elise returned to the Ragland Ward foot sore, but pleased with her day’s work. She strode buoyantly into the tavern, bag over her shoulder, and smiled widely at Jorgen who was polishing bottles behind the counter. Then, she froze as it registered who was sitting on the stool at the bar in front of Jorgen.

“Well, if it isn’t the slayer of Lucky herself.” Jorgen said, his voice full of mischief.

Astredian turned on his barstool, and smiled into the look of utter shock on Elise’s face. He was dressed ‘casually’ today in a blue tunic that featured a richly embroidered silver lion, and matching pants with silver pinstriping. His boots were plain but well made of supple black leather, rising to just above his knees, and matched with the black bracers on his forearms. Elise couldn’t help but notice how the whole outfit served to lengthen his frame, lending his wide shoulders an air of rugged refinement.

Astredian set a few coins on the bar for Jorgen, then stood and walked over to the petite ranger, who would have backed away if she hadn’t been in the process of defrosting. She looked up as he loomed over her, then down at the item he was holding between then - Lucky’s antlers.

“Class trainer Rob said these belonged to an aspiring ranger named Elise who lived in the Ragland Ward. I thought I should return them to you.” Astredian said. “I’m Astredian, by the way. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

So the hunter had become the hunted, Elise thought. But what she said was, “Oh….thanks.”

After a moment of awkward silence, she continued, “I’m Elise, but my friends call me Ellie.”

She took the antlers in hand, then looked up at Astredian again, quirking an eyebrow, when he didn’t release them. She licked her lips, eyes sliding away from his; they were so blue she was afraid she might drown in them if she looked too long. Astredian released the antlers, and she had to take one step back to catch herself. Without realizing it, she had been pulling herself closer to him.

“You know, it’s not every day that a strapping young paladin comes around to speak to our Miss Ellie…” Jorgen said loudly, with the power of a voice accustomed to projecting over the tuneless songs of drunken patrons. “Perhaps you should stay for dinner, Sir Astredian.”

Astredian turned toward the innkeeper, and Elise shook her head vehemently over his shoulder, mouthing curses at Jorgen that would have made even Aunty Amy blush.

“I’d love to, but I’m afraid I have another appointment this evening. Perhaps another time?” Astredian said to Jorgen before turning back to Elise, a self assured smile playing across his lips. “I’d love to discuss guild recruitment with Elise.”

Behind him, Jorgen grinned and held both thumbs up.

Astredian left the Drunk Monk that evening feeling good about his new prospect. Class trainer Rob was so surprised that the paladin wanted to return his student’s hard earned prize that he offered up more information than expected.

To hear the class trainer tell it, Elise was a deceptively promising adventurer; perhaps she was not as strong or battle hardened as others, but what she lacked in raw power or prodigious talent she made up for with empathy and determination. Rob had also hinted that her skittishness was just a way to avoid the complications that came from being a woman with a sharp mind and a kind nature.

Moltar was all about battlefield perfection; the man could spend hours theory crafting how his skills, weapons, and gear would come together to turn him into the ultimate fighter. He was even happy to help those around him with their gear and skills - as long as it would improve the guild’s overall raid synergy.

Astredian didn’t think Moltar’s approach was incorrect; raid synergy was important. But, but he also knew that to build a successful guild they would need more than just amazing fighters. You could buy weapons and gear, you could hire trainers to teach you skills - but gold could never buy you grit or integrity. He’d been in a few different guilds and found that the difference between a strong guild that would last, and a guild that would fall apart when things got tough, was whether or not the leadership could balance the personalities of their membership along with their physical capabilities and quality of life.

If Moltar and Astredian really wanted to leave the Wolfpack and form their own guild, they needed to find someone with organizational skill and the soft touch that neither man had quite perfected; someone, hopefully, like Elise. It helped that the Wolfpack was recruiting rangers at the moment, because he could use their interview process to scout her without adding any extra pressure. He’d also found that many guild officers never intended to become officers, it was just something they fell into. Astredian thought that Elise might be that type, and it would probably better to let her fall into a leadership role naturally than suggest it to her up front - which could scare her off. 

He also thought she was very much his type. He’d nearly kissed her when she was looking up at him earlier; she hadn’t even noticed him pulling the antlers, and her, closer...but when she looked away in her shy, adorable way, he remembered that he was a gentleman.

As a gentleman with a title of nobility, Astredian had a number of duties which he was not fond of but which needed tending to. After several years of failing crops in the lead up to the Desolation, and the passing of both his parents, the Lionettes - Astredian himself being the only one left - had fallen out of favor. It was difficult to maintain favor without money, profitable lands, or active business ventures - of which Astredian had next to none. The majority of the Lionette holdings had been burned to ash. It would take many years for the land to recover enough to be profitable, and in that time his father’s debts - which had been sunk into numerous unsuccessful business ventures - would only continue to grow.

Being the sole heir to the Lionette duchy, Astredian had also become responsible for the protection of lands bordering the Western Wastes. Rather than try to borrow money to try and repair the damage, which would probably have just dug him into a deeper hole, Astredian sold his duchy to a wealthy merchant who only wanted the title so he could join the upper echelon of Veritasia City’s high society. This gave him enough money to settle his father’s outstanding debts, a little money in the bank, and he still retained his lesser title.

His title now was Viscount of Vangarde, but though he was still a nobleman he’d lost a great deal of reputation in the exchange. His name remained Astredian Lionette, but everyone knew he sold the Lionette duchy because he needed the money. While he was a viscount, his land holdings consisted of a few fields of tenanted farmland and a two horse ‘town’ just south of the city. But, he considered that he’d been lucky; he could rebuild from a clean slate.

For many people, ‘reputation’ seemed like one of those things noblemen only worried about because they had nothing better to do with their time. For Astredian, high reputation meant discounts on rare goods, access to special services, and the ability to complete unique questlines - with accordingly unique quest rewards - not just for himself, but for his whole guild.

He’d been advised by the other gentleman of the Regency Club, which he attended a few times a week at Moltar’s insistence so that he could serve as wingman, that there were two ways to regain his lost reputation - marry well or curry favor with the royal family. Happily, or unhappily as it were, both of these things could be achieved by attending balls.

The balls, which were hosted weekly by each of the upper district’s four Grand Dukes in turn, were lavish affairs. Astredian had always considered himself to be a people person; he wielded his charisma like a weapon, using it to cut down barriers or sway those he was speaking with to his way of thinking. However, he so far found balls to be an insipid waste of his time.

When he attended a ball, his goals of currying favor or making connections with important players in the upper ranks of Veritasia City’s court were inevitably derailed by the often attractive, but mostly vapid, ladies of the court. Without fail, they would descend upon him like a swarm of bees to a particularly sweet smelling flower; his dance card often filled up before he’d even finished his meal. Moltar was thrilled by this, and joined him every chance he could - happy to play wing man if it meant one of the ladies - or gentleman - might take a shine to him.

Astredian, however, had no intention of marrying his way into favor, even if one of the ladies would have him. Some of the ladies were quite nice; there were a few he’d even taken a meal or more with. But, even those whose company he enjoyed were, in the end, more interested in the novelty of his fall from grace than they were in him. Being with him was slumming light.

After spending several hours dancing and making small talk with various ladies in brightly colored swishing silks, Astredian had escaped to the upper level of the Manderly family’s grand ballroom with a stiff drink. He sipped his scotch absently, pleased that he’d gotten away clean, when he felt someone approaching him from behind. When he turned to see who it was, he relaxed.

The ‘gentleman’ who had come up behind him was an older man with long hair styled into ringlets, a neatly trimmed beard, and curling moustaches. He was taller than Astredian, broad of both chest and belly, and wearing a red tailcoat with glittering bejewelled buttons. Under his arm, he held a wide brimmed hat topped with a ridiculous plume; he’d removed it to be polite, but refused to let the butler take it from him at the door. After all, what was a pirate without his hat?

“Duke Artilliere, how nice to see you again,” Astredian said, bowing politely from the waist. The pirate grinned, flashing his gold teeth, then bowed in return. Astredian deeply regretted having to sell his duchy, but he couldn’t have picked a better man to have sold it to. Captain Artilliere was one of the heroes of the Desolation, but because he was a pirate the royal family had snubbed him when it came to rewards in the restoration period following the Desolation.

While other war heroes received medals, lands, even titles - Captain Artilliere received only a pardon for his previous crimes. Astredian hadn’t planned to sell his duchy to the pirate, but when the news of the sale started going around and offers began arriving, he took the Captain - now Duke - Artilliere’s offer on principal. Other people may have offered more money, but Astredian felt that helping right this wrong, and gaining the friendship of the most fearsome pirate to have sailed the Precariat Sea, would pay itself forward in other ways.

“You ‘ad enough of this bollocks yet, lad?” Duke Artilliere said, thumbing over his shoulder at the dance floor below as the musician’s quartet started up again.

“Bollocks, your grace? Do you mean to say you’re not enjoying the trappings of your newfound nobility?” Astredian said as he leaned on the banister, watching the brightly dressed ladies and gentleman below shift and flow like the patterns of a kaleidoscope, executing their intricate dance movements  with precision and grace.

The Duke leaned on the bannister as well, but facing the opposite direction. “Ah, don’t mind me lad. I’m just feelin’ my age. Perhaps all this,” he wiggled his ring-laden fingers a bit, “would have served me better as a young man. I thought my old lady would like this shite, but she refuses to leave ‘er bleedin’ bathhouse. She says that she ‘lacks the patience to prattle about with pretentious pissants.’” The pirate used air quotes for the last part, and spoke in high rasp, imitating his woman.

Astredian chuckled at the alliteration and said, “Sounds like a smart woman to me. Business must be good if she doesn’t have time to enjoy the good life with the rest of us degenerates.”

“Ah, I think in her mind the Pleasure Ward is the good life. Entertainment, food and drink...what more could you want, really,” the pirate captain said, curling one of his whiskers with his fingers. “That’s why she built the bathhouse there. And you’re right, lad. My old lady is the real brains of the operation. The Misty Mermaid brings in money hand over fist. How d’you think I paid ye?”

Astredian was surprised, but hid it well. He’d assumed the old pirate had used his secret treasure trove to pay for his new lifestyle. 

“A bath does sound nice after a night of drunken debauchery,” Astredian said, thinking that hot water would feel pretty nice on his sore feet. The ladies had been annoyed at his apparent lack of interest tonight, and had expressed their displeasure by stepping on his feet with their sharp, pointy heels as they danced with him. He could have a bath brought to his room in the manor house if he wanted, but the water was lukewarm at best by the time the tub was full enough to get in.

Maybe a good, hot bath would be worth making a second trip to the low district today.