The Price of Happiness
A Medieval Tale
Book 5
By Lina J. Potter
Translated by Kristina Tatarian
Copyright © 2018 LitHunters Ltd. (http://lithunters.com)
All rights reserved.
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Welcome
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Contents:
Welcome
Contents:
Prologue
Chapter 1
The first knot
Chapter Two.
Anagnorisis.
Chapter 3
Black pawn, white pawn
Chapter 4
A solemn arrival
Chapter Five
Princess’ fickle game
Chapter Six
The Second node
Chapter 7.
Young fruit.
Chapter 8
A glimpse into the future.
Epilogue
Post-epilogue.
Two hundred years later.
Chronology
Book Recommendations:
Enjoyment adds strength to our desire.
Desire, old tree, for whom pleasure is the ground,
while your bark thickens, as you grow higher,
your branches long to touch the sky you sound!
Astounding travelers! What histories
we read in your eyes, deeper than the ocean there!
Show us the treasures of your rich memories,
marvelous jewels made of stars and air.
Charles Baudelaire, Le Voyage
Prologue
Pen in hand, the woman brooded over a blank piece of parchment. She paused for an instant and moved a golden lock of hair from her face. Suddenly, a fresh sense of resolution overcame her, and she began scribbling with speed and confidence.
This letter belongs to those who find it.
It took me a long time to gather the courage to write this letter. Besides, no one knows my own language here. I will write down the alphabet later. If not, let it become the Rosetta Stone of this world—the world of Ativerna.
It is impossible for me to open up to anyone, therefore consider this letter a confession. I hope that by the time someone finds this letter, I will be long dead. I also hope that the world of Ativerna will be purer and better than my own. Yes, my friend and reader, whoever you are, you shall be the one to hear my story. My name is Lilian Elizabeth Mariella Earton, the Countess of Earton, of maiden name Broklend.
My real name is Aliya Vladimirovna Skorolenok. I am a doctor, which is like a medicus here. Back in my world, I cured people and dreamed of doing it for the rest of my life. I suspect that I died back there, in my own world. My parents died as well; that I know for sure. It is hard for me to realize that I will never visit their graves. I am struck with grief at the knowledge that I will never again see my friends, my fiancé, or my native land, which I loved with all my heart in spite of everything.
I am writing to those who will be born after me. Upon coming to this world, I realized that it was purer than my own. Although it was filled with cruelty and bloodshed, I promised myself to introduce this world to only good things. I sincerely hope that I can leave this place in a better state than when I found it.
Should I describe my former life? It is better not to. It is enough to say that I used to live, love, and learn. As for the rest, my world had too much evil. Aldonai forbid (I even speak like a local now) anyone borrowing harmful ideas from my letter! No, it is better not to disclose anything.
When I first came here, I was in stasis. I was scared and hurt. Gradually, I realized that I owed this woman for letting my spirit occupy the frame of her body. She had departed so that I could live. It was a big sacrifice to make.
I don’t know which things I will be remembered for. I know that history is written by politicians; those who paint their characters in whatever color they want. Let it remain so.
Who is Lilian Broklend? A bitch? A cow? Someone who loves power and breaks laws to bring strange and alien things to this world? I don’t know. My only motivation is to survive.
No one liked the former Lilian. To speak plainly, they brought death upon her by sending the murderers to her house. I defended myself. Anyone who happened to suffer at my hand was chosen by fate. I will not justify myself for wanting to live. The most peaceful ones can choose to perish.
I have become harsh. I have turned cruel.
I have learned to make ugly decisions and bear their consequences. Do you think I am trying to justify myself? This could partly be the case.
I sincerely hope that everything good that I bring to this world and every soul I save from death will outweigh my acts of immorality, the acts which my mother would not approve of.
Whoever you are, I ask for your understanding.
The candle burned; the golden feather of artisan Helke Leitz scribbled on the parchment. The woman feverishly wrote her wandering thoughts. She signed it: Lilian Elizabeth Mariella Earton.
Chapter 1
The first knot
“My Lady?”
“Yes, Leir Tremain?”
“My boys have brought me some news.”
“What is it?”
“Someone is preparing an attempt on the life of your glassblower.”
“What?”
“What else did you expect, My Lady? You have negotiated with other guilds, but the glassblowers are very offended, therefore—”
“Therefore they are going to play dirty tricks on us. I see. Tell me everything.”
“Our glassblower is a young lad; he gets infatuated very quickly. There is a pretty widow on the outskirts of Laveri, a forty minute brisk walk from here…”
“What’s your idea, Hans?”
They had started calling each other by their first names long ago. It was more convenient. Besides, both Hans and Lilian held it true that all titles lost their significance in the presence of mutual respect.
“Look on the map; here lives a certain widow. The road that leads to her home is very solitary. It is the perfect place for an attack and kidnapping.”
“Do they want to interrogate him?”
“I suppose so. They would make him talk and then get rid of him after he gives away all our secrets.”
“Bastards.”
“Lilian?”
“Tell me your plan, Hans.”
The ma
n and the woman exchanged malicious glances. Neither of them was going to stand on ceremony.
Whoever comes to us with a sword will perish, thought Lily, suddenly realizing the truth of these words in the world of Ativerna.
***
Having stayed alone, Lilian Earton looked out the window. The dark glass reflected a pleasing image of her face. She had done more than enough to achieve such a result.
It was “the hidden law of a probable outcome” that ruled over her life, just like in the song.
A year ago, Aliya Skorolenok could not have even imagined such a twist of fate. She was living, studying, working, and about to get married. Her life had been like anyone else’s—before the car crash and subsequent reincarnation in someone else’s body with all its unimaginable consequences.
Having found herself in the body of a medieval countess, Aliya had inherited all her responsibilities and her medieval husband with all his rights. Everyone around her had nothing but contempt for the donor.
She had had to put everyone in their place, and she had been rigorous. The outcome that had befallen the most disrespectful individuals had been deathly. The new Lily had had to appoint people in place of those she had removed. She had also needed to earn their respect.
One thing had led to another, and another… Lily had not even noticed that she had started working her fingers to the bone. She had wanted to live in a clean castle, take baths, and look at the world through clear glass—not pieces of parchment.
Aliya had not even noticed how she had attuned herself to the world of Lilian Earton and become burdened with the countess’ duties and responsibilities. The king had soon taken notice of her inventions and called the woman to the capital. It was then that Aliya had realized her knowledge of the Middle Ages was utterly false. She had previously imagined beautiful ladies, noble knights, castles, and tournaments. As if!
The women were unwashed, the knights did not even know that they ought to fight in tournaments, and the castles were drafty all over. The only people that had taken an interest in the Countess of Earton had been hired assassins. They would have welcomed her in their arms any time of day or night.
So, Lily had gone to the capital to figure out who might be responsible for her attempted murder. All had been in vain. Upon realizing he could profit from the countess, His Majesty had placed a heavy load on her fragile shoulders. The king had asked her to adjust the whole production of manufactured goods. Perhaps she should have objected, but it was the custom to never refuse the will of the king.
The guilds did not like her interfering with trade, but that was their problem. Every individual who was unhappy with the present order could speak to the king.
Alas!
The guilds were unhappy to such an extent that Lily now felt like she was lodged on top of a sleeping volcano. Her fears were soon confirmed. It was one thing when they made attempts on her life; she had the Virmans to guard her safety. Trying to kill her artisans was another matter entirely. She could not ward off the danger facing every artisan, apprentice, and student. The only way was to repel the first attacks and establish strict boundaries. Her message to the villains was dead simple.
We don’t interfere with you; you don’t touch our people. If you, nevertheless, decide to meddle in our affairs, remember that strangling yourself to death would be less painful than our punishment.
Lily and Hans had discussed it before. But now was the right time to bring their plans to life. One way or another, it was a stressful task.
Should I start drinking valerian root? Maybe I should. Health is like honor; it needs preserving from a young age.
***
The lover of young widows was Timo Richert. He was ambling around town whistling a tune. Life seemed to him a total blessing. Who could have thought that only a year ago I was nothing? Back then, he was an apprentice. Pass this, bring that, get out of my sight, you idiot…. These words used to ring in his ears all day long.
Now, he was a respected artisan, and everyone called him Master Timo. Although the local guild was not entirely happy, they had given him the title.
It was all due to the Countess of Earton.
Once more, Timo blessed the moment that he decided to leave his native Altver and commit to the unknown. Indeed, he had left his dear ones in Altver, but he sent them money through the Virmans. The generosity of the countess was unsparing; working for her had been a sheer delight. He and Marko had found their own apprentices and become their own masters; they could live as they pleased. Taral was a fine, cozy place, and Timo had already found a room there. In addition, the countess had assured him that he soon would be able to buy himself a house in the capital, and a couple of horses too. She considered him a valuable artisan.
Lily made Timo realize the true price of his skill. He and Marko worked relentlessly. In five years’ time, it would be fit for them to marry. The countess surely would not mind them getting wives now, but they needed to accumulate some wealth first. Besides, both of them liked to frequent different women.
Timo’s life was good, especially with a pretty, twenty-year-old widow waiting for his arrival. She was not an alley cat, but it was tough for a wench without a man. She had happened to run into Timo back in Laveri. He fixed her porch, gave her a little mirror, gave her a hand with a heavy basket…
They had met each other by accident. The girl had come to the city to sell milk just when Timo had gone looking for apprentices. He had suddenly craved some milk, and an affair had ensued. One thing had led to another…she named the place and the time. He came once, twice… Such an affair would never have happened in Altver; had he stayed back there, he would have remained an errand boy.
***
Olivia had been somewhat sad. Nevertheless, she had greeted the young man with all honor. She had offered him milk and other pleasantries. The trouble had come in the morning, on Timo’s way home. It hadn’t quite been morning, just before sunrise. The young artisan had been walking and whistling, when suddenly…a bolt from the blue.
***
Timo woke up in a strange place. He was lying on the floor, his hands and feet tied, surrounded by three bandits. One of them was picking his teeth with the end of a knife, the other two were playing dice. All three had instantly noticed their captive regaining consciousness.
“Give a holler to our master and tell him that the prisoner is awake,” ordered one of the players.
The man with the knife stood up and left without a word. One of the players slowly rose, approached Timo and grabbed him by the scruff of the neck. The lad saw a flash of a knife blade.
“Huh,” gasped Timo, trying to escape the sharp blade.
“Yes,” confirmed the man who entered the room. “Do you understand, you scum, that we can do anything we want with you?”
Timo understood it well and nodded.
“Good. You will now tell us about the method you use for making glass.”
“What h-happens after?”
Considering the man’s smirk, there was no “after” for Timo.
“I will not tell you anything!”
Timo was suddenly surprised at his own bravery.
“What if we break a couple of your fingers? Or skin you alive?” The man was clearly serious. “You will tell us; there is no way out of it.”
Never had Timo been so happy as when he saw Hans Tremain enter the room with his humble dark cape, expensive weapon on a sling, tall hat with a feather and thin lips curled into a sly smile.
“Leir Tremain!”
“That’s right.” Leir entered the room and looked around with a face of regret, saddened to be wasting his precious time.
“Everyone drop your weapons, or I will give the order to fire.”
“ Give it to whom?”
“The Virmans, of course. They are severe people. They don’t understand jokes.”
The main man swore filthily, and a short arrow hit the floor beside his foot.
“I am not kidding. Does it hu
rt you to know that you are missing out on so much money? Some amateurs from the middle of nowhere found the secret to making glass while your whole guild was idling about! Ha!”
The man grimaced but did not have the courage to answer back.
“Get dressed, Timo. From now on, all your visits to wenches will happen only with my consent. Do you understand?”
The young lad understood very well. His memory was as sharp as the dagger that had been held at his throat some minutes before.
“As for the rest of you, get ready as well. We will speak to you someplace else.”
The villain’s face switched from white to red, marking the change from surprise to anger.
Not like anybody gives a damn.
***
Lily told off the glassblower— and the young man comprehensively embraced the criticism. Hans Tremain had defeated the whole band of criminals, a deed that was recognized by the king himself. His Majesty was quite content with the outcome of the affair.
As it turned out, the glassblowers were extremely angered. They bore heavy losses and lost dozens of apprentices. The guilds were never going to give recompense and simply left the tradesmen to their own devices.
The Price of Happiness: A Strong Woman in the Middle Ages (A Medieval Tale Book 5) Page 1
