Chapter 42: A New Marshal for Karsfeld

Lady Frieda von Rabenfels had served as Marshal of the Karsfeld Host for nearly thirty years.

She was an aged, battle-hardened futa warrior with long grey hair and a weathered, wrinkled face, who despite her advanced years could still wield a blade deftly and lead the Baroness's banners into battle.

Everything had changed a week ago when her health suddenly collapsed. The physicians could not diagnose the cause of her ailment, chalking it up to old age.

Today, however - the very same day Vivienne announced her pregnancy - the aged commander lay on her deathbed in her ancestral estate of Rabenfels.

Her daughters kept vigil around the bed, awaiting the final breath of their Sire. Frieda had lived in this world long enough to recognize the insidious effects of poison, and she suspected whose hand had struck the blow.

Yet she was already far too weak to gather her thoughts. A trusted maidservant, who had attended to her chambers for fifteen years - and recently drew a secret stipend from Vivienne’s espionage ring - stepped up to the bed. The woman lifted the old lady’s head and poured a cup of water containing the final, lethal dose of white arsenic down her throat.

As the venom began searing her entrails, the dying marshal mustered the last dregs of her strength, seeking to choke out an accusation against the firstborn heir and warn her young ally. Yet from her parched lips came nothing coherent save for a single, desperately gasped word:

"Cordelia..."

Moments later, she breathed her last. The daughters of the deceased exchanged glances steeped in deep suspicion. Why had their mother uttered the name of House Karsfeld's younger futa with her dying breath?

Could that ungrateful brat have had something to do with their mother's abrupt demise?

Instead of warning Cordelia, Frieda had inadvertently drawn the suspicion of her own house down upon her, prompting them to steer well clear of the younger sister in the looming struggle for power.

***

Word of the marshal's passing reached Castle Karsfeld only toward the evening of the following day. Baroness Adelgarde was genuinely shaken - she had hoped it was merely a passing affliction, only to lose the loyal commander of her forces. She immediately decreed a lavish funeral.

Cordelia, meanwhile, froze in terror. The moment she caught the mocking smirk playing across Seraphine's face, she grasped in a flash that the veteran warrior's death was the handiwork of her elder sister.

Without the deceased woman's backing, she had zero hope of winning the castle garrison over to her side once their mother rode off to war. Her plot to swiftly arrest Seraphine and seize the fortress lay in smoldering ruins.

In the council chamber, Adelgarde summoned her firstborn daughter. A new commander of the host had to be chosen, yet the entire barony lacked warriors possessing experience comparable to Frieda's.

Adelgarde resolved to seek Seraphine's counsel - a clear signal that she was grooming her for the mantle of sovereign.

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"Mother," Seraphine began placidly. "I know dark clouds gather over the Alarian Empire, and civil war will swallow us at any moment. Do you not intend to take the new marshal into the field with you?"

Adelgarde looked upon her daughter with grave solemnity:

"I will not mince words. Soon I shall be summoned to arms by the Countess of Tyravia. I know the craft of war, and I know I may not return alive from that turmoil. Sooner or later, I will fall on the field of honor fulfilling my feudal levy. Therefore, I require someone reliable here on the home front, who will take charge of the castle guard, the law, and the security of the barony under your authority."

Seraphine barely suppressed a smile of deep satisfaction. Her mother was reconciling herself to fate, steadily ceding absolute authority into her hands.

The heir bore no ill will toward Adelgarde - the Baroness treated her justly - yet gaining a free hand would allow her to accelerate her grand designs to unite the realm beneath a single crown.

"I know someone who will fulfill that duty a hundred times better than the late Frieda," Seraphine said.

Adelgarde raised her gaze from the parchment inscribed with the names of noblewomen and looked her daughter dead in the eye:

"Truly? Whom do you have in mind?"

Seraphine nodded:

"Major Katarina Falk. She is an anointed knight and a veteran of many wars. She possesses an extraordinary tactical acumen, and I am certain she will manage the castle guard flawlessly. She serves as my second-in-command within the militia, and it was she who led our forces in crushing the rebels outside Eisenwald."

A broad smile spread across Adelgarde's face; it turned out her firstborn already had a seasoned commander at her side who was bound to her with unswerving devotion. Pondering this, the Baroness nodded in approval - this essentially meant Seraphine's drilled militia would be officially merged with the town and castle guard, functioning as regular troops and an internal gendarmerie among the civilian populace. In this way, Karsfeld would gain a formidable shield for the coming war.

"Splendid," Adelgarde stated firmly. "I shall name Katarina Falk Marshal directly following Frieda's funeral. We shall integrate your militia into the garrison structure to watch over the borders and the law of the barony."

Seraphine was thrilled. By removing old Frieda, she guaranteed that the fortress garrison would consist of her own loyal soldiers. Should Cordelia attempt an uprising in their mother's absence, it would end in utter catastrophe for her. In one fell swoop, Seraphine had stripped her sister of any chance to strike.

What was more, Katarina assuming command of the guard granted Seraphine the authority to raise cavalry units. She intended to start with a company of demi-lancers - agile cavalry clad in lighter plate harnesses that would readily replace the cumbersome, armored knights of the old mold. Raising the horsemen would admittedly have to wait until Katarina's formal investiture, which would take roughly a fortnight, yet the future looked exceedingly bright.

Following the council, Seraphine returned to her chambers, where she took a seat at her drafting table, sketching schematics for three-quarter harnesses and light lances for her future cavalrywomen.

Moments later, a soft knock sounded at the door. On the threshold stood little Rosalie in a gorgeous gown bearing the livery of House Karsfeld - black, white, and gold. She looked adorable with her fair twin-tails, balancing a tray bearing milk and freshly baked spiced biscuits in her hands.

"May I come in, Seraphine?"

"Of course, my lady," the heir answered with a smile, sliding the parchments aside.

They settled side by side upon the plush sofa, nibbling on the sweets. Though Seraphine preferred hearty fare over desserts, passing the time in the company of her betrothed was genuinely pleasant.

Inwardly, she did yearn for the chocolate and coffee of her past life, but the hour for transoceanic expeditions in search of cacao and tobacco would come in due course.

First, she had to unify these lands, seize ports along the Baltic, the North Sea, and the Adriatic, and then forge a battle fleet. For now, however, she relished the crumbly biscuits in the company of little Rosalie, spinning visions of conquering the world.