The Price of Stars and Blood

A.S. 1082, June 24th, early morning, Cape St. Elmo, Greyfog Cape

Salty sea air, thick with morning mist, permeated the beaches of Greyfog Cape.

The ruins of a dilapidated fishing village flickered in and out of sight within the mist, charred timbers jutting askew from the mud, while stubborn wisps of unextinguished black smoke coiled skyward.

From atop a hastily constructed wooden lookout, Friedrich von Stern, the Border Count, stood with a furrowed brow, his gaze fixed on the shadowy Norse formations discernible through the swirling mist.

Norse—or ‘Northern’ in the Imperial tongue.

These self-proclaimed “Northern men,” these sea raiders, did not hail from the distant, bitter lands of the far north. Instead, they were ‘sea nomads’ who clung to coastal islands and secluded fjords.

They would typically pose as fishermen, only to transform into ruthless pillagers at the first opportunity. Like a persistent plague, they had been eradicated countless times over the centuries, yet always returned.

“These damnable beasts!” Friedrich muttered, unable to suppress a curse.

His authoritative gaze pierced the thinning mist, clearly discerning the pirates roughly binding their captive, near-lifeless villagers—particularly the young girls, their clothes torn and bearing the marks of violation—to thick wooden planks. Like human shields, these unfortunate souls were then slowly pushed towards the Kingdom army’s meticulously arrayed ranks.

Friedrich clenched his fists.

These cunning sea raiders, well aware of the Kingdom army’s ranged superiority, were employing such vile tactics to shackle his forces!

He looked towards his own impregnable position:

Rows of infantry phalanxes, clad in mail and armed with halberds, stood like a forest of steel; heavy cavalry, draped in gleaming plate armor and gripping lances, remained silent as statues, awaiting only the bugle call to charge; archers and trebuchet operators were also in position.

Yet, the command to attack remained lodged in Friedrich’s throat.

The sea raiders were fierce and cunning; who knew how many traps they had laid in this familiar stretch of beach? To sacrifice precious Kingdom elites merely to wipe out this band of vagrants? He could not afford such a price!

The King’s ‘eyes’ were watching him, and he could not betray His Majesty’s trust.

‘Mercy has no place in command!’ As the supreme commander, he had to make a swift decision.

“Livia,” Friedrich turned to his daughter beside him, “Under these circumstances, how do you believe we should engage the enemy?”

Livia von Stern stood quietly, her gaze not on the pitiful hostages or the arrogant pirates, but piercing through the mist, settling on the hazy horizon where sea met sky.

She was clad in a custom-fitted set of silver-white light armor, its plates polished to a mirror sheen, accentuating the maiden’s tall, graceful, yet powerful physique. Long boots encased her slender calves, reaching just below her knees, beneath which the faint outline of white stockings could be discerned.

The nascent morning light illuminated her face, sculpted with a divine precision, and within the depths of her clear blue eyes, an ineffable flame seemed to burn.

“‘You would order the archers and trebuchets to fire directly, disregarding the hostages, wouldn’t you?’” Livia’s voice was cool and melodious, imbued with a calm that bespoke complete understanding.

A flicker of approval crossed Friedrich’s eyes. He nodded. “‘Of course. I am not a cruel man, but as commander, I must be responsible for the lives of my soldiers. To make such brutal choices—that is our duty.’”

He paused, then countered, “‘Do you have a better method?’”

Livia finally brought her gaze back to her father.

In those blue eyes, what burned now was not anger at the atrocities, but the fervent desire of a young warrior eager to forge their own legend.

“‘I will rescue the hostages,’” her voice rang out, clear and resolute. She then added, her tone flat yet chilling to the bone, “‘And then I will kill every last one of them.’”

Friedrich understood his daughter.

She was no beauty meant for a gilded cage; rather, she was a warrior who craved battle and bloodshed, possessing a near-fanatical pursuit of justice. Had she not been born a woman, she would undoubtedly have become a legendary hero, lauded through the ages.

Friedrich was silent for a moment, then let out a complex sigh.

“‘If only your brothers possessed half your courage.’”

“‘Father, when may I join the fray?’” Livia’s tone lifted slightly, her barely suppressed yearning for battle threatening to burst forth.

Friedrich shook his head. “‘Why use an ox-cleaver to slaughter a chicken? The enemy bears no mark.’”

“‘No, Father,’” Livia declared, pointing decisively towards the thickest part of the mist behind the pirate formation, “‘The Scarlet Spiral Cult is behind them.’”

Friedrich frowned. “‘How do you know?’”

Livia raised a finger, pointing to the night sky, which had not yet fully receded. “‘The stars told me.’”

‘The stars again!’

Friedrich felt a familiar headache coming on.

His daughter, Livia, was so excellent she filled him with pride, yet so peculiar she filled him with worry.

She would always whisper to the ‘stars’ beneath the veil of night—those were the only moments she truly smiled with the unburdened innocence of a young girl. Each time he witnessed this, Friedrich’s heart was a tangle of mixed emotions.

Livia was his illegitimate daughter. Such a status, within the circles of nobility, was enough to dictate everything.

Friedrich had initially hoped his daughter, under her birth mother’s care, would grow up quietly in some obscure village, her identity concealed. He would then arrange for her to marry a minor noble. This way, Livia could live an ordinary life, perhaps not always happy, but at least free from want.

However, when he received a personal letter from Louis XI, he learned that his daughter had inherited the Stern family’s Mark bloodline—and that her lineage was even purer than any of their ancestors. His daughter was a peerless genius of a Mark-bearer.

It was precisely because of his daughter that he, a previously unknown Border Count, had suddenly become a rising political star, courted by both Empire and Kingdom.

Everyone only saw his seemingly soaring influence, but only he knew that it was his daughter’s brilliance that illuminated his path.

Livia’s return had shattered the family’s equilibrium. His wife, who hailed from a prestigious Imperial Grand Ducal family and possessed a noble Mark bloodline, could not tolerate an illegitimate daughter brazenly appearing in their home. His sons, too, found it difficult to accept this suddenly appearing ‘elder sister.’

Consequently, Livia endured a chilling domestic ostracization.

Friedrich was aware of his daughter’s suffering, yet felt powerless to intervene. In this family, Friedrich, ironically, found himself in a position of weakness.

In truth, Friedrich had married above his station into the family of that Imperial Grand Duke. The Stern family’s Mark bloodline had long since dwindled to be barely distinguishable from those without a Mark. His wife, however, possessed a potent Mark bloodline.

According to Imperial law, only nobles with a sufficiently stable and potent Mark bloodline could inherit a title.

Friedrich had relied on his wife’s connections to pass the bloodline test and inherit his father’s title. Without the Grand Duke’s daughter’s assistance, Friedrich would likely not have been able to maintain his noble status.

The root of the family conflict was, in fact, inheritance.

Livia’s bloodline was a complete manifestation of the Stern family’s ‘Star’ Mark bloodline. This meant that his legitimate eldest son’s claim to the title would be superseded by Livia’s. The Border Countess could not accept an illegitimate daughter, appearing out of nowhere, usurping her legitimate son’s inheritance.

To preserve his family—or rather, his own standing—Friedrich could only maintain a cold demeanor towards Livia, even siding with his wife.

Did Friedrich not love his daughter? The answer was no.

Compared to his wayward, good-for-nothing sons, he naturally cherished his brilliant and endearing daughter far more.

Friedrich’s ultimate decision to pledge allegiance to the Kingdom of Lorraine was solely because Louis XI was willing to grant his daughter a ‘legitimate’ status.

His choice had led to a divorce crisis, and he had exerted monumental effort to salvage his crumbling marriage. As a concession to his wife, he had to move to the royal capital, transforming the Stern family into prominent capital nobility. Furthermore, he had to quickly marry Livia off and transfer the inheritance rights to his legitimate eldest son.

The result was that his exceptionally talented daughter was to marry Allen de Laval, a notorious scoundrel and wastrel whose ill repute even he had heard of.

His heart bled at the thought.

Yet, deep down, Friedrich also believed that having his legitimate eldest son inherit the title was not a bad thing. ‘A daughter given in marriage is like water poured out.’ Only the legitimate eldest son could truly carry on the honor of the Stern family.

Friedrich owed Livia too much. He had taken her from her mother, failed to give her the affection she deserved, and allowed her to grow up amidst cold stares and ostracization, developing the ‘quirk’ of communicating only with the ‘stars.’ Each time she spoke of the ‘stars,’ his heart felt as though it had been pierced by a needle.

To deflect his guilt, Friedrich suddenly spoke, “‘By the way, Livia, I have some ‘good news’ for you.’”

He forced a smile.

“‘Regarding your engagement to the Laval family… the arrangement with the Viscountess will likely fall through. The Viscount’s letter demanded an exorbitant dowry of one hundred thousand livres! It was nothing short of extortion! His wife would never agree.’”

Livia frowned slightly. “‘Give it to him.’”

“‘Alright, I’ll refuse him right away—wait a moment?’” Friedrich’s eyes widened abruptly, thinking he had misheard. “‘You… you still wish to proceed with this engagement?’”

“‘Mm.’” Livia responded indifferently, her gaze once again drifting towards the sea horizon.

Friedrich was utterly bewildered.

One hundred thousand livres! That was a fortune sufficient to fund a major campaign! And her fiancé was a notorious wastrel! How could his proud daughter possibly condescend to marry such a wretch?!

‘Could she be in a rebellious phase, planning to accept the dowry only to then annul the engagement, purely to spite me?’

“‘One hundred thousand livres… is that a lot?’” Livia seemed to sense her father’s shock and asked.

“‘An immense amount!’” Friedrich stated gravely. “‘Enough to fund several hard-fought battles for the Kingdom!’”

“…”

Mention of battle, and Livia understood immediately. She was silent for a moment, a flicker of contemplation passing through her blue eyes:

“‘Father, if you find it difficult, I will earn that money myself.’”

Friedrich nearly laughed in exasperation. “‘You will earn it? Do you have any idea how difficult that would be?!’”

Friedrich couldn’t help but wonder if his daughter truly had entered a rebellious phase. He thought of his eldest son, who had recently been acting in much the same way, vehemently defying him at every turn, often exclaiming:

“‘Livia, Livia! Is that all you ever talk about, Father? Livia! You only love my sister, don’t you? Am I truly incapable of earning even a single glance from you, no matter how hard I strive?’”

Friedrich found himself caught between a rock and a hard place. While his eldest son’s Mark talent was actually decent, compared to Livia’s, Friedrich genuinely paid little mind to his son’s progress. Livia’s talent was so monstrously prodigious that Friedrich had come to believe it better for his son to simply serve as a stud, ensuring the Stern family produced the next generation of pure bloodline. His son, in his entire lifetime, would likely never reach the Mark proficiency Livia possessed at eight or nine years old.

Livia, for the most part, caused him little worry. Yet now, she had made the astonishing declaration that she would earn an astronomical dowry. ‘Why are all my children so rebellious? Has my parenting truly been such a failure?’

“‘Father,’” Livia’s gaze refocused on the pirate encampment, her tone tinged with eagerness, “‘How much is a single pirate worth?’”

“‘Perhaps ten to twenty livres…’” Friedrich answered instinctively, then immediately reacted. “‘Wait! One hundred thousand livres! How many men would you have to kill—’”

“‘I’m going, Father!’” Before Livia’s words had even fully echoed, she leaped from the lookout like a flash of white lightning, gracefully vaulting onto a magnificent pure white warhorse. “‘May the stars of victory shine upon you!’”

Friedrich was utterly dumbfounded.

“‘My lord, shall we pursue the young mistress?!’” his squire-knight and standard-bearer quickly asked.

Friedrich, overcome with frustration, glared at him and roared, “‘Why are you still asking?! Pursue her, quickly!’”

The squire-knight immediately blew his horn.

“‘First, Second, Third, Fourth Lancer Squadrons! Assemble! Charge with me! Protect the young mistress!’”

The infantry officer also quickly waved his military banner, directing the infantry phalanxes to advance.

“‘Infantry Regiment! Advance!’”

The urgent blast of the horn tore through the morning’s tranquility, and the Kingdom army, a formidable war machine, roared to life!

The iron hooves of the heavy cavalry began to shake the earth, and the infantry phalanxes, like moving fortresses of steel, pressed forward!

A bloody slaughter had begun!