"Keep your friend close, and your enemies closer."
Francis Coppola, The Godfather Part II.
...
...
Three days after the departure of Giono, it was time for Louise and Napoleon to return to the Academy. It had been a mere two weeks, but Louise had decided that she had enjoyed the village enough, and sought to come back to the Academy. While Tarbes was relaxing, she had come to believe that it was only in the Academy where she could properly learn Void Magic, and nothing Napoleon could say would change her mind. While he had wished to stay with the books, a compromise was reached after discussing things with Siesta's father. He would return to the Academy for now and would not take any of the books with him, and in return Siesta's family promised that no one else would enter the hangar. For Napoleon, this would serve as a precaution in insuring that no one else would get their hands on the information he had discovered. Siesta would stay behind until the new term opened, and he knew that the young girl would make sure that the family would keep their promises. However, he would need to find a way to permanently remove those texts so that they would fall under his control.
Perhaps it was because of the roiling summer heat, but as the two rode across the plains connecting the Academy and Tarbes, they did not encounter a single orc on the return journey. Nevertheless, the heat remained a formidable enough opponent, and only Napoleon and the ancient sword strapped to his side remained unperturbed, continually urging Louise and the horses to keep going. The languid heat however meant that neither was prepared to exert too much energy, and so they rode back to the Academy nearly the entire way without even having a single proper conversation.
Louise was exhausted by the time they returned in the middle of the day, and she had all but fallen asleep atop her horse as they crossed the threshold of the Academy. Napoleon was forced to carry her extremely light body up the stairs. However, as he entered the girl's dormitory, he stopped. The door seemed to have been torn off its hinges, and likely very recently given that no repair work had been done. Setting Louise to the side of the doorway for her protection, he drew out Derflinger with the left hand, triggering the Gandflr runes. He shoved the door with great force using his shoulder, and rolled in, checking the area for occupants. There was one, a hooded figure whom was standing in the center of his partner's room.
"It's been a while, hasn't it, Emperor Bonaparte?"
He instantly recognized the voice, and even before Henrietta lowered the hood and looked at him, he lowered the weapon.
"You know, for a great familiar like yourself, partner, you don't spend a lot of time actually attacking people."
Napoleon slammed the sword back in its sheath in response to its quip, and thus the legendary blade understood that ancient and highly secretive message of "Shut up." Henrietta looked quizzically at the sword.
"A sentient blade. I have never seen anything like that before."
Napoleon shrugged.
"It's proven useful to me in the past. Anyways, I'm guessing that you're the one who managed to get in here? I didn't think that you would do such a thing, princess."
"I came here to talk to Louise, only to panic when she wasn't here. I guess I used a little too much of my magic when I was banging on the door."
Napoleon indicated outside, then picked up the sleeping girl and lifted her into her bed.
"She's tired. We've been riding for two days. Perhaps I could deliver any message you have for her."
Henrietta hesitated, and then looked at the girl who lay in her bed. She had important official business, but she had also wanted to talk to Louise for what may be their last time as childhood friends, and not as princess and subject. The wedding was set to occur in a week from today, but she would not have time to return to this Academy before then. She took out a small book and passed it to Napoleon.
"Open it. I'm sure you would have anyways after I left."
Napoleon complied and flipped through the pages. The book was empty. After waiting for him to look through it, Henrietta continued.
"This is the Founder's Prayer Book, an ancient and important artifact from Brimir himself. Tradition dictates that when the main members of the Royal Family are married, a maiden mage is selected to hold this book for the ceremony. I have decided that Louise will have the honor."
Henrietta finished, but right then Napoleon spoke up.
"There's more to it. You know Louise is not a highly organized person. If you wanted her to simply hold the book as a bridesmaid, you would have given it to her right before the ceremony. You want her to do something with it before you are married."
"You're right, there's more to it. The maiden mage is also supposed to write a blessing praising each of the four elements."
Napoleon nodded.
"Very well. I'll let Louise know as soon as she wakes up. You two really have been close your whole lives, haven't you?"
Henrietta smiled beatifically at that statement.
"I love Louise. I always have, always will. She is the dearest friend I could possibly ever have. But what about you, Napoleon? Did you have friends when you ruled your Empire?"
Napoleon shook his head in response as he stared outside at the sun.
"No, but neither have you."
"Did you not just hear me?"
"My partner is the friend of Henrietta de Tristain, the person who's in this room at the moment and whom just gave Louise a valuable artifact. But does Princess Henrietta, the ruler of Tristain, have a friend? Because if anyone knows that those two people aren't the same, it should be you. A ruler may have subjects whom adore and worship him, who wish to be as glorious and vibrant as the king. But if they actually obtain that level, whether from their own achievements or the indolence of the ruler, they will wonder why he possesses the sole right to rule and thus will destroy him."
He stopped there, but noted that while Henrietta said nothing, her gaze was resolute unlike the last time they had talked. He knew she had the potential to grow to be a fine ruler, depending on what threads were weaved for her. Nevertheless, even he was exhausted from the long ride, and a nap in the courtyard sounded like a wonderful idea.
"I thank you, Princess, for your gift to my partner. I promise she will perform well at your wedding."
He left the room and took a few more steps.
"Wait."
Henrietta's voice cut him off, and he turned around. She simply stood there for a bit, and slipped her hand in her pocket.
"I have something else for Louise. A gift. Something from one young girl to another, not as an exchange between a princess and her subject."
She removed her hand and held out a sparkling gold ring. There was a jewel on top, which shone a crystal clear blue.
"This is the Water Ruby, a treasure of the royal family. As the Princess of Tristain, I have no right or reason to give it to her."
She moved forward and put the jewel in his hand.
"But as a young girl who loves her friend, I can do so. Tell her I gave this to her as a present for everything she's done for me. And also…
Tell her I'm sorry for not talking with her when I could."
And with that, after trembling a little, she dashed out down the stairs and outside. Napoleon stood back. Even if he could never understand her way of ruling, one which preached justice but was incapable of maintaining the mask necessary for its impartiality, he could not despise or look down on her. She was still a sovereign, a proud one, one whom had achieved the legitimacy he had never obtained despite all of his conquests. So, she was still someone whom even an Emperor could respect, if not necessarily admire.
He took the ring, and set it on the dresser next to the mirror where Louise brushed her hair every morning, and sat down on the same chair. It was only then that he spoke up.
"Why did you not talk to her?"
Louise simply moved in response, and so Napoleon continued.
"I'm fairly certain she knew you were faking as well. You heard me talking down to her, as well as the gift she gave you. So why did you say nothing?"
She still said nothing. Napoleon stood up and walked to the door. It was only then that she heard it.
Louise was crying. Completely sobbing, and now that she knew Napoleon could hear her, she stopped trying to hold it back in. She began crying, both for her friend whom she knew she would likely not see again for a long time and for her shame in failing to hold in her tears. She knew that if her mother the Duchess Valliere saw her like this, she would have gone utterly berserk in her anger at her daughter. And so from her partner, she expected the same.
Instead, she felt herself being lifted up, and then there were a pair of arms around her neck. Napoleon had hugged her, with her face buried within his chest. And as Louise continued to cry, she warbled a phrase in her surprise.
"I-I thought, hic, that Emperors d-don't show mercy unless I-I've accomplished something important."
"You just watched your best, no your only friend leave, and you're likely to not see her for a long time. The fact that you didn't cry in front of her is enough of an accomplishment."
"S-shut up, partner. What could someone like you know who's n-never had a friend know?"
The words were accusing, but the tone was not. She was blustering, trying to hide her guilt and shame, and it made her all the more pitiful.
"It's true; I've never had a true friend. But I did have a lover."
"W-what? D-don't lie to me!"
"I'm not. I'll tell you about Josephine someday later. It's a stupid tale, one with two idiots whom failed at the roles which destiny had provided for their two mechanical performances."
He broke himself off, slipped on a coat, and stopped at the door.
"I'll be under the oak tree. Wake me up at sundown. But if you wake up before then, figure out some phrases for that book. You might as well start on that as you only have a week."
And so with that curt phrase, he headed down to the courtyard, the place where he had been summoned, for a long nap.
...
Oliver Cromwell, the Emperor of Albion and the head of the Reconquista did not know what to do. Just when things were ready, just when his plans for the conquest of Tristain and their Void artifacts were ready to be unveiled, this disaster had happened. The Main-mast of the Lexington, the pride of the Albion ship, had been destroyed. Wardes, the man whom he had put so much effort in to persuade him to betray his country, was in the hospital wing. His right arm had been amputated, and even then it was unclear if he would survive the horrific burns. At this point it was solely up to his will if he wanted to live. But even then, it would take at least a month even with the best magic for him to recover to the proper level of the former Captain of the Griffin Knights, and without his better arm, he might never ever reach that level again . And all because of the accursed Staff that was currently laying on top of his desk.
Fouquet stood in front of him, her wand in Cromwell's hand and two bodyguards with halberds at her slim neck. She had repeatedly told the same story of how Wardes was attempting to figure how the Staff worked, and then accidentally set it off, destroying the mast and burning himself in the process through fire which had appeared out of the end of the staff which had not launched the fast object. However, because all the sailors aboard were maneuvering the Lexington, there was no one who could corroborate her story. And Cromwell could not rule out the possibility that the thief had sold out.
"Look, how was I supposed to get out of the ship if I had done what you think I have? No amount of money is worth a job that will almost certainly result in my capture and execution! I have cast my loyalty with you, Cromwell. There is no way Tristain will ever accept me after what I did to their academy."
Fouquet angrily spoke again. There was no doubt that her logic was sound, Cromwell admitted. Furthermore, the fact remained that she seemed to genuinely not know how the Staff worked. Cromwell had promised her freedom if she could get it to fire again, yet no matter what she did, its magic would not repeat itself. The closest that resulted was a strange clicking noise which happened whenever she pressed something that looked like a trigger.
After further deliberation, Cromwell decided to hold her in the brig for the time being, and thus she was dragged off despite her vigorous protests.. He was left alone in his office next to the Reconquista Fleet and puzzled over what to do next.
The attack would go through, even without the Lexington. He knew that. If he waited for the ship to be repaired, Germania would go through with the marriage and alliance, and even the flagship of the Albion was not the equivalent of Germania's entire fleet. Nevertheless, the lost time needed to repair it as well as Wardes's wounds remained a severe blow.
Still, Cromwell remained generally unconcerned. Tristain's long focus on diplomacy and neutrality as a means of keeping the peace meant that while their sizes of their fleets were about the same, Tristanian ships were smaller and lacked as many guns. Furthermore, their officers were far less experienced, as most of the Reconquista officers naturally had had plenty of practice from the destruction of Albion's Royal Army. Defeating Tristain was something he was not seriously concerned about, even without theLexington.
Germania was the problem. Gallia was a slight concern, as Cromwell doubted that without the support of King Joseph, Reconquista would have succeeded at all. While he was grateful for the king's help, he couldn't understand what Joseph was after by helping him overthrow another fellow king, and Cromwell suspected that he might be a pawn in some scheme of the foppish blue-haired ruler. He would need to reassert the independence of Albion as soon as possible to prevent Joseph from gaining an undue influence on his country. But if Germania interfered, then actually conquering Tristain would be difficult if not impossible. Under the worst case scenario, he could simply bottle up his forces up in Albion, protected by their fleet, and work on securing the internal revolution. Still, the nobles would become nervous with such a move, and it was for that reason he had to move sooner than later, before the marriage.
Ultimately, he thought, he was over thinking things. You go to war with the army you have and not the one you want, after all. He would pour himself a glass of wine and get to sleep. Brimir knows, he would need to get as much shut-eye as he could before the hostilities would commence shortly.
