This isn't a memory. It is neither a place he has been to nor will ever willingly visit, yet he knows exactly where Adèle has brought him. The symptoms so clearly indicate the plague: disease runs rampant, filth invades every pore, poverty is the norm, and despair is heavy in the air. This, he knows, is the Court of Miracles.
"This is Christmas present," Adèle informs him, her face grim as she surveys their surroundings and guides Richelieu deeper in.
"Past, present, future, it makes little difference here." Adèle need not look at him to know how his lip curls in disgust as he speaks.
"Exactly."
"Excuse me?"
Adèle whips around to face him. "It makes no difference because those in a position to do so insist upon calloused and murderous schemes rather than real, beneficial solutions." Richelieu's mouth opens a fraction, but she cuts him off before he can even draw breath to speak. "Blowing up innocent people is never- never an acceptable plan of action." Fuming, she strides away, never looking back nor slowing down until they come to a crowd pressing toward five figures: Athos, Porthos, Aramis, d'Artagnan, and a blonde woman he assumed was the Court's queen, Flea.
They hand out all manner of items to the people gathered round. Blankets, clean clothes, food, toys, and more are given to those in need without expectation of repayment and without even a hint of judgement.
"Armand, are you familiar with the expression 'be the better man'? These men, with far fewer resources than yourself, give their time, money, and possessions to improve the lives of those living here."
"The king will never agree to use state funds- ".
"Forget the king. Perhaps you should use your personal income to help others instead of keeping mistresses."
"You never complained before."
"I did; I took a lover. Then you took me to the woods and had me shot. Explain it away however you like, but this is a pattern with you. Something happens that you don't like so you use murder, blackmail, and deception to get what you want. Surely there are better ways to improve the nation."
"You know nothing," he hisses and steps close enough that should Adèle breathe deeply their chests would meet. For several moments they stand there, staring each other down and neither willing to bend.
"I meant to show you more here, but I see now that the present has little effect on you." Adèle grabs Richelieu's hand and walks them right into his funeral.
The king snivels and whimpers through the proceedings causing the Cardinal to groan in irritation. "Pull yourself together for pity's sake; you're the king, not an infant. Where is Anne?"
"Giving birth."
The scene changes to Louis and Milady settled beneath one of the palace's many tables. The more intimate the moment becomes the more disgusted Richelieu appears.
"Dear God," he groans.
"You leave him weak, incapable of proper decision making, without an ounce of self-control. Although he is only following your example."
"She'll ruin the nation, drive it into the ground with her charm and manipulation."
"The nation's ruin can hardly be blamed on Milady. You have another one of your 'creatures' to thank for that."
The scenery changes continuously then. Rochefort is brought before Louis, and he earns the king's trust and favor. Rochefort meets with Spanish agents on a number of occasions. Rochefort becomes First Minister. Rochefort attempts to win the Queen's affections and later attempts to have mother and child killed.
"He brings chaos to the palace and nearly succeeds in ending the Bourbon line. But you'll love what comes next."
With a wave of Adèle's hand, they're standing on one of the pathways exiting the royal gardens. The King and Queen as well as Tréville pass by, the King stating how Philip has gone too far. The discussion only worsens when Louis declares his intentions to make war with Spain.
Richelieu rubs his brow but otherwise does little in reaction to the events he witnessed. "He's always been a weak king. I blame his mother."
"That's all you have to say? You blame his mother?" In an instant they're back in Armand's office, the candles wavering with their return. "You've spent decades acting without an ounce of compassion, and when I confront you with it, all you do is blame Louis's mother."
"Adèle, unlike you, your Musketeer, and the rest of the world, I am not motivated by compassion. Everything I do, I do for raison d'état. France is at the heart of every decision I make, and contrary to your opinions of the government and myself, those decisions do not end in the happiness of every boy and girl. Sacrifices must be made, and someone has to make the hard choices. It's for the state that I orchestrated the massacre in Savoy. It's for the state that I would obliterate the Court of Miracles. It is for the state that I employ Milady and Rochefort knowing that through their efforts and my own we will have built a strong nation that will one day be passed on to a king with more spine than Louis. It's an ugly business, but someone has to do it, Adèle."
"You're impossible." And there's that frown again, driving her brows together in an expression of her annoyance.
"So says the ghost," he replies, his voice soft as he rounds his desk to continue the work he intended to complete earlier.
"They'll curse your name."
"As they do everyone who matters."
She sighs and vanishes into the darkness. Richelieu rubs at his chest before picking up where he'd left off.
Thus concludes Raison d'état. Thanks for reading! :D