In a village not so far away from the castle Jacques Le Fou was sitting in front of a tavern counter, drinking his third mug of beer for the day. It had been four weeks since the greatest hunter in Molyneaux had been killed, and there wasn't a single villager who hadn't been touched or affected in someway. The gunsmith had closed his shop for a week. The bartender had roped off the section of the tavern where Gaston's trophies hung. The blonde triplets had made a practise of dropping off flowers at Gaston's grave everyday, saying things like "We still think you're the greatest!" or "Gaston, you were the most handsome man whoever lived!" or "We will never marry any other man because of you, Gaston!"
It wasn't just the death of Gaston that had put such a large impact on the villagers however. It was the intrigue behind it. No one, not even the men who had come with Gaston to the castle that night could say exactly he had died. All they knew was that fifty Frenchmen had gone out to kill the Beast that night, and only forty-nine of them returned. And the one that was missing was the one who had led them there: Gaston.
At first, the men of the village weren't too worried that Gaston hadn't come back from the castle yet. As the strongest man in their village, they believed he'd be back within the day, beast's carcass in tow, and once he did they'd all go to the tavern to celebrate, comme habitude. Instead, about two days later, two richly dressed men rode into Molyneaux to present the village with Gaston's body. It was one thing for the men of the village to come to terms with the fact that the man wrapped in the cloth was Gaston, and another for them to accept that Gaston, their village idol was actually dead. Needless to say, the pallbearers were bombarded with questions:
"What happened?"
"How'd he die?"
"What killed him?"
"We've already told you all we know," the first servant said irritably, "The prince has simply asked us to return this young man to you so that you may give him a proper burial."
"Prince?" said Stanley, his eyes goggling, "What prince?"
"Why Prince Adam of course! The son of King Vincent and Queen Catherine?" The second servant glared at Stanley as though challenging him to think otherwise, "Learn your politics young man!"
They left the villagers to take care of the funeral, which was a very tense and silent event. How could the greatest man in their village suddenly die without any explanation?
Indeed, Gaston's death had put a huge impact on the village, but the person it affected the most was Le Fou. As long as he had been Gaston's lackey, he was someone. But now, he was a nobody. With no huntsman to serve or praise, or even have stuff thrown at from time to time, his only fulfillment came from drinking. Presently, he took a swig from his cup and gazed blearily at the fur rugs and deer heads mounted on the wall, remembering how only a few months ago that he had been here, partying drunk with the other men and telling Gaston how he was the greatest and nobody could ever measure up to him. That was what he lived for. Without Gaston, now what was he supposed to do?
"Le Fou!"
The lackey's bloodshot eyes snapped open. He had passed out from drinking…again. As he groggily rubbed his temple he had a feeling that he had just heard Gaston's voice. But that was impossible. Gaston was dead, wasn't he? Still, years of following orders from the great hunter made him turn around on instinct to see what the problem was. His mouth fell open.
His first thought was that he had been drinking too much. There was no way Gaston would be here in the tavern. Unless…maybe he was going delusional like Maurice. Given the state of things, he wouldn't be surprised. But then he saw the differences. His biceps weren't as big as Gaston's, he didn't have a swell cleft in his chin like Gaston and he was wearing a green hunting shirt, as suppose to the traditional red one that Gaston always wore. There was only one person in Le Fou's mind who matched this person, and that was…
"Avenant?"
"Surprised you, did I?" Avenant said with a grin, "It has been a while."
Le Fou was speechless. A while would be an understatement. His eyes followed him as he sat down in the stool next to him, his mind brimming with questions. "So tell me," Avenant said casually, as though he came to the tavern everyday, "Where's my brother?"
"G-Gaston?"
"Who else? I was just on my way to La Chapelle and thought I'd pay him a little visit. It's taken me a while but I think I'm ready to make up with him about the incident." As he spoke, he eyed the portrait of his brother on the tavern wall. "I see he's used father's money well," he thought bitterly. The real truth was, Avenant was broke from using his father's money on gambling, and was hoping to reconcile with his older brother so that he could get part of the tavern. Of course, he hated the fact that he actually had to apologize to his brother, but so long as he didn't have to scrounge for food anymore, he was willing to do anything his frère asked of him.
Le Fou simply gaped at Avenant. He didn't know what to say. He wasn't even sure how to react.
It had been at least three years since the village had last seen Avenant. He wasn't exactly the most memorable person in Molyneaux and it wasn't very hard to see why: He wasn't as handsome as Gaston was, or as strong as Gaston was and the kill he brought back to the village was in no way as big and impressive as the things his brother brought back.
The story of Avenant and Gaston's feud went back to some three years ago when their father Ludovic had passed away, leaving them in charge of the village tavern. Gaston, as the oldest son, was ready to take full ownership of the place, but Avenant, who was tired of living in his brother's shadow for fifteen years, decided to speak up and demand for his share the tavern too. Eventually, they decided to settle the dispute through a hunting match, the end of which Gaston had won, leaving Avenant to flee the village with his tail between his legs. Since then, no one had heard or seen Gaston's brother. For the most part, they assumed he went to another town. Gaston certainly didn't talk about him, and the other villagers knew better than to pry into what wasn't their business. Life went on, Gaston got his tavern, and his lesser brother soon became a thing of the past.
Until today that was. Now he was back. Back and asking for his brother who had died four weeks ago.
Le Fou could feel sweat dripping down his forehead."Oh gosh, what am I going to tell him?" he wondered, "Gaston's out hunting? He went on a gaming trip?" Thankfully, he was saved the trouble of making up a story by Monsieur D'Arque who was listening in on their conversation from further down the bar counter.
"He's dead Avenant," he said simply.
Avenant looked as though he had just been punched in the face. His eyes darted from the asylum keeper to Le Fou, trying to find something to suggest they were joking, but there was nothing. Slowly, his fists began to ball up in rage.
"WHAT?"
It took several drinks before Avenant was on talking terms again. Even then, he was in an extremely bad mood, and Le Fou and the other townsmen sat around him as though he were a piece of dynamite about to go off at any moment.
"I want to know everything," he said as he slammed down his fifth mug of beer, "How he died, what killed him."
"Well that's the thing Avenant," Le Fou said tentatively, "We'd love to tell you, except we don't know. Some people from the castle only brought back his body a few weeks ago telling us that he fell into the bottom of a ravine."
"Well yeah, that's what the castle said," Norbert said, rolling his eyes, "You ain't telling him the whole story, Le Fou," He slowly leaned forward and grinned at Avenant, "We think the Beast must have got him."
"Beast?" Avenant repeated, "What Beast?"
Tom gave Norbert a sharp slap on the back, "Do you want to go to the asylum?" he hissed, "We've already had some of our best men taken to the Maison des Lunes, rambling on about being attacked by furniture and silverware in the castle and whatnot. We certainly don't need someone to bring up that crazy old man's story again."
"But it wasn't a story Tom!" Norbert insisted, "You saw what Belle showed us in the mirror. Even Gaston believed her."
"Yeah, and look where that got him," said Dick, "I think we were tricked, that's what I say. That crazy girl must have learned how to do witchcraft from all those books she was reading and decided to try it out on us."
"What are you talking about?" Avenant asked in frustration, "What does Belle have to do with any of this?"
Dick looked around at his companions and took a deep breath. He supposed there was only one way to get the full story about Gaston's death out and that would be to go back to the end of the summer, when Gaston had first made plans to woo and marry Belle. For the next fifteen minutes he quickly filled Avenant in on everything that had happened in the past sixth months: how Gaston had arranged for Maurice to be locked in an asylum until Belle agreed to marry him, how Le Fou was to stand watch until Belle and her father returned, how Belle had refused Gaston's proposal and even outsmarted him by proving the "Beast" was real through an enchanted mirror, and how Gaston, in an act of virtue had decided to lead all the village men up to the castle to kill the monster.
"The last we saw of him was when we entered the castle," Tom finished, "He went to find the Beast and we…got a little distracted."
"Attacked by living furniture is more likely!" said Norbert.
"Keep your voice down, Norbert, Monsieur d'Arque is right there!"
"And what's even funnier," Stanley added, "Is that Belle and Maurice haven't been seen since that night. The word is that they somehow managed to get back to the castle and now Belle is getting married to the prince."
"Prince?" Avenant raised an eyebrow, "I thought we didn't have a prince."
"Neither did we," said Tom, "Until those heralds started coming in here, announcing his highness's return from god-knows-where. Apparently, he's been off travelling the world for the past ten years. Who would've known, eh?"
"Well, on the good side I guess this means you'll be managing the tavern now, huh Avenant?" Le Fou said, "Avenant?"
Avenant said nothing. The whole story didn't make sense. A prince comes from out of nowhere, marries a peasant girl, and his brother gets himself killed, all in the same time frame?
The wheels Avenant's head were turning. He had two options now: he could claim the deed to the tavern, pay off his gambling debts and grieve for his brother with the rest of the village, or…he scratched his chin as he thought…he could do something drastic…something crazy…he could be the hero he never could be when Gaston was still alive…
"Le Fou," he said as he stood up abruptly from the table, "I want you to go and round up all the men in the village and tell them to meet me here in the tavern."
"Now?" Le Fou said in surprise, "But Avenant, it's the middle of the day! People have work and families and – !"
"Le Fou, did you hear what I said?"
The lackey gulped as he read the murderous expression on Gaston's brother's face, "Well yes Gaston – I mean, Avenant! I'll let them know right away!" he stammered. He scurried out of the tavern, feeling grateful that he at least had been given something to do today.
In the meantime, Avenant clenched his fists and surveyed the remaining four men sitting before him with cold, stern eyes. Of one thing he was sure of, no one killed his big brother without paying the price. He didn't know how Gaston had died, but he was determined to get to the bottom of it.
