//Author Note: I would strongly urge you to read Rotten Æther | Scribble Hub alongside this story. Shared world and setting, with crossovers coming!//

 

Noble ranks have different purposes and meanings in different Kingdoms and during different eras. For instance, there was a time when Dukes ruled dutchies much more directly and they had only Knights serving under them, but that is no longer.

The Kingdom is split under the rule of the Dukes and Grand Dukes, who divide the land into provinces for the Counts. That is my station, or it ought to be, and shall be upon my success in scheming my way back into control over my estate and province.

The land is then further divided into Counties for the Viscounts, while towns, villages, and lesser suburbs are ruled over by the Barons, the lowest of true nobility who frequently rub shoulders with the common man.

Knights, the true military force of the Kingdom, are honorary nobility but most still have noble blood, the third and fourth sons and daughters of proper nobles. Commoners who show significant enough value can, at times, be elevated to knighthood, but that is all. It is impermissible for a titled nobility to marry a commoner, even if the commoner gains knighthood. It was enough of a scandal for uncle to marry my aunt, and she has proper, if tenuously so, noble heritage.

These Knights, not quite nobles but not quite commoners, are the true force of our kingdom. They train themselves in magic and combat arts, equipping themselves with armour and weapons valuable enough to compare to the sum property of poorer barons. While they cannot be considered true nobles, they ought to be offered proper respect and dignity, and they should be trained to return that noble respect.

“You want me to walk you back home, missy?” The tall mage is a Knight who I’m familiar with, the visible æther veins running across his hands and face prove his power beyond doubt. Yet, it seems he’s not as dignified as I was expecting.

“My uncle wishes to take my title and my estate,” I say, simply and clearly. “That simply will not do, and I know for a certainty that my father would never have permitted it. All I ask is that you be willing to stand with me in honouring my noble responsibilities and aid me in removing my traitorous uncle from my estate.”

“Look, I know you had it rough kid, but leave this to the adults. You don’t know what you’re getting into, alright?” He says waving me away. “I have my own business to deal with. Just don’t go doing anything stupid and leave me out of this.”

I grit my teeth. The incisors in my mouth, changed in the incident that stole my life, irritate me nearly as much as the man before me.

“You will not acknowledge my right to my late father’s title?” I ask simply. “You would betray your oaths?”

“Look kid, just go home. I’m sure they’re out looking for you,” he says, turning around and closing the door in my face.

“Are you okay?” Therina asks, as I head back from the door. The sunlight is cutting through my thick robes, and I’m sure my skin is already bright red if it’s not outright blistering.

“The Viscounts are all bought with the gold from my own coffers, the Barons are frightened of my uncle, and the Knights couldn’t be bothered to hold their oaths,” I hiss, summoning more frost throughout my flesh to try and counter the heat rising to the surface. “How does this Kingdom still exist? Is there no one that still retains noble dignity? No one who lives by their noble obligations?”

“Heh,” Henry’s dry laugh is an answer of its own.

My faith in father’s teachings only makes me look a fool before the few commoners still willing to give me the most basic of respect. I cannot fathom how it’s possible for the kingdom to persist in this state.

“You want to know how we’re all still here?” The old soldier asks, looking back at me as he stretches his arms over his shoulders. “The farmers are still farming, the merchants are still moving goods about, the blacksmiths are still at their forges, and those crazy guild mercenaries are still keeping the roads safe. Why should we care if the nobles are busy sucking their own tits in their fancy mansions?”

“Nobles are meant to rule, to ensure that the commoners can live their lives well.”

“Well, we don’t need ‘em,” Henry shrugs. “Back when the nobles ran all the farms and owned all the merchants, there was a sense to it, I guess, but they don’t do that anymore. All they’re supposed to do is keep the foreign armies at the border, but they’ve done a crap job at that too.”

I swallow hard, trying to find a counterargument for the man, but all I can think of are the thousand lessons I learned of a perfect noble in a perfect kingdom. Are the nobles truly unneeded in this world?

No, I don’t believe that.

The world might have adapted because of the corruption that has infected our bloodlines, whatever strange curse has caused it, but if the nobles were to step up to their responsibilities, the world would still be much brighter.

“This city,” I say, waving my hands at the buildings that, while clear of debris, are yet to be rebuilt. The walls of a house are used to pin up tents for those living there, and new walls are built from shattered stone, balanced up high, with no mortar between the broken bricks.

“The role of a noble is to step in and resolve this, rebuild this city, not merely back to what it was, but into something better still,” I say, both Henry and Therina, alongside several strangers, turn to listen. “A proper noble would gather the people to work together to resolve this crisis, this crisis that started in the war, and only has continued since.”

The markets are a mess of stalls and shops, but few are properly built back as they should be, and worse there’s no sign that anyone is even trying to build things back. They’re accepting the current state of things.

“Sir,” I turn to a store owner, a young man selling bread. He’s already down to the last of his goods, the morning rush leaving him with nothing to do.

“I have a few loaves left if you have the coin,” he says, smiling in confusion.

“Why is it that you don’t rebuild?” I ask, waving to his shop. The ovens are visible through the massive gap in the broken wall, and the ceiling has a canvas patch over a sizeable hole in the ceiling. It’s obvious that it isn’t enough to keep the rains out.

“Rebuild?” He asks, looking at me rather strange. “The ovens work fine.”

“And the hole in your roof?” I ask, but the man takes a step back and lifts his hands defensively.

“Hey, did Baron Forthsworth send you?” he asks suspiciously. “We already paid our taxes.”

“He did not send me,” I reply, already weary. “The reason you don’t repair your building is because of the Baron?”

“Well, I can’t afford the kind of tax that the rich get,” he says. “I patch up my roof and make this place look all nice, and the Baron’s men will be around to demand more taxes. If you’ve got two coins, they ask for three, and then just break down your walls when you can’t pay. Everyone knows it.”

“This,” I say, talking to Henry. “This is… it’s unacceptable. Untenable. This city is dying.”

Therina’s eyes light up as she stands before me, her hands clenched tight before her as if in prayer. Her expression is vibrant with emotions that she’s barely withholding, but a proper maid she is, and she bites her lip before expressing herself more calmly.

“I haven’t heard of a noble like you, young miss,” she says, stars in her eyes. “You’re like the knights and kings from the story books, actually talking about honour and noble obligations. What you did to that noble brat, even putting your own life at risk… You even spent the night sleeping in the slave’s pen to see what their lives are like. You’re a proper storybook noble, miss.”

“I… thank you,” I say, taking a proper stance and bowing my head shallowly toward her as one does for a servant that has proven themselves outstanding. Her words are perhaps not all that I want to hear in this moment, but they do calm my raging frustrations, and I find myself settled on a path.

Happiness seems a distant emotion to my newly frozen heart, and grief is entirely unreachable, but frustration all too easily floods in through the gaps in the ice. Hearing the honest admiration of this woman draws that stress away by a small measure.

“I… I’m not sure all that I am all that you say, especially now after I’ve been changed, but I do want to be that proper noblewoman,” I say. “For that, I need proper knights, noble barons, and viscounts with dignity who know their obligations.

“I, Christina Greystone, will find a means and I will live up to your expectations, Therina.”

My maid bows to me, shivering even in the overwarm light of day, her shining eyes are brimming with excitement.

“Well, I might be able to help you out some,” Henry says, scratching at his stubble-strewn chin. “Some of the men I fought with back in the war, they knew a few Knights that were better than the rest. No promises that it works out, though.”

“Thank you,” I say, holding back a shudder of relief. After meeting with those pig-blooded nobles, and ignorant knights I was rather loose with my tongue. I should retain a measure of dignity, even in such situations.

“Just don’t get your hopes up with all this,” Henry says. He lifts a hand and almost places it on my head before hesitating and pulling it away. “You’re swimming with the sharks, and it wouldn’t do any of us good if you get eaten.”

“I’m afraid that you’re quite too late for that,” I say. “While the monster that bit me was bereft of gills, he was just as lethal.”

“You wouldn’t have called Therina a whore if you didn’t get bit, and then we’d never have gotten mixed up in this. Maybe fate has a hand in all this,” he chuckles.

“Perhaps this is a poor excuse, but I truly wasn’t myself at the time,” I admit. “It was entirely foolish of me. A woman as fine as Therina wouldn’t be selling herself on the streets, I’m sure she’d be the centre of a fine establishment instead.”

“M-miss Greystone,” the woman in question cuts in, blushing brightly. “If you might leave that line of thought alone, I would be very much in your gratitude.”

“Very well, I just meant to say that you’re a fine woman,” I repeat, letting the topic go as she blushes brighter still.

The streets we walk are busy, and while this conversation has soothed my irritation, I’m not yet ready to face the full scale of the corruption that has consumed the noble class. I’ve only gone through half the list of potential allies, but already my expectations are dipping rather low.

We pause in a darkened alley, Henry frightening off the young scoundrels that were hiding here before us. Only petty thieves, nothing that should draw my attention.

It is here that yet again, a familiar clacking cane sounds out an old gentleman’s approach. Not from the street ahead of us, but rather the dark shadows behind.

Reeve Lewark leans heavily on his old wooden cane as he hobbles along, bearing a rather more joyous expression than I’ve come to expect of the man. Is he perhaps growing more trusting of me?

“Good day Reeve Lewark, I hope the morning has treated you kindly,” I say when he’s near enough to hear.

“Good day young miss, why yes it has. A few kind blessings graced me and some difficult challenges were resolved in a timely manner.” His expression falters a moment, but he steadies himself. “I believe that I’ve learned a thing or two of your kind.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, that incident with the noble boy who burst into flames and ash,” Lewark explains. “It’s provided enough clues to assist me in separating the more fictitious rumours, and I do believe that it is time to trade information, if you’re willing to sit down for a meeting.”

“You aren’t going to share even the slightest details to lure me in first?” I ask, feigning hesitation. My plans for the day are already ruined and this fortuitous meeting might just set me on a path more meaningful.

“Well, there is a certain point.” He hesitates. “Are you familiar with ghouls?”

“I am afraid that I am not so well studied,” I say shaking my head.

“I would expect not. It’s rumours and whispers that you find shared among the commoners. Ghouls are said to be corpses that rise from the dead to viciously attack the living, feasting on them, in particular drinking their blood. Furthermore, they are said to burn up in the sunlight.”

“You think it’s another term for vampires?”

“Not quite, ghouls are said to be mindless walking corpses. They are dangerous because of their strength, and resilience, not their wit, which is nigh absent.”

“Then what has this to do with anything at all?” I ask.

“The murderous boy ought to have been dead. I saw the body myself, and checked it before leaving,” Reeve Lewark says. “Through sorting rumours, I believe that I have an answer.

“A Ghoul is an immature vampire. When a vampire kills a person and leaves their desiccated corpse behind, it becomes a ghoul, and should the ghoul survive and feed, it will become a vampire.”

“An… interesting theory,” I say. “Yet you seem to be rather precise considering that it is mostly rumours, and one undead boy to base this upon.”

“And you,” he says, his lips pursed. “Your servants were… I will avoid details, but they were slain by a different killer than your family, a measure of time later. It was much messier; it was amateur.”

“You think…I…?” A distant bell rings noon in, the sound burying itself in my ears.

“It is only a theory, but there is a way to test it,” he explains. “If you are interested.”

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

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