Chapter 20: Irreversible Decisions
Excerpt from "The Struggle for Toulouse's Soul"
By A. Comnenus
Sailors and women from the Sevillan, Haaraleenese and Bretonese homelands first settled and mixed together on the Isle of Toulouse some thousand years before the island was liberated from the Organization's rule. Judging from archaeological records that are still intact, it seems the early islanders worshipped the God of all the Heavens. It was an ancient religion, dating back to its founding in the mainland city of Seville some fifteen hundred years before the island was settled. It was only the second monotheist faith ever founded, and unlike the first, Yahudaliyyan, it was spread by proselytizing and conversion of non-believers.
With its long isolation upon the Isle of Toulouse, this religion morphed. Around 400 years after first being settled, the Rabona Orthodox Church was founded. Its tenets were very similar to those of Heavenism, with two major exceptions. Its believers believed that a truer vision of a path to the heavens had been shown by the angels Teresa and Claire. Another difference was that Heavenism had very little formal hierarchy amongst its priests, while the Rabona Orthodox Church was strictly hierarchical. When the new Holy Scriptures were set down in writing and standardized some 100 years after its founding, it was all done under the strict guidance successive Bishops of Rabona, the title given to the church's top priest.
The Bishop of Rabona commanded an army of thousands and ruled over a theocratic state, and as church rule expanded, donations from the faithful flooded the church's coffers. Four hundred years after being founded the church experienced a crisis. A heresy rejecting material wealth sprang up in response to the church's growing corruption. Bishop Pierre III reacted viciously and created the 1st Inquisition to root out the heretics and put them to death. This backfired badly when one of his priests, Jean Lautrec, appalled at church-endorsed atrocities, defected to the western 'heretics'. Jean Lautrec, through sheer force of personality, took command of the rebels and their faith. Within a few years his men had inflicted crushing defeats on Rabonese forces.
The church's grasp shriveled as it pulled back to safeguard Rabona from growing lawlessness, leaving Lautrec the undisputed leader of the western peninsula that would bear his name. Jean, never one to waste a good opportunity, preached a new message. Teresa and Claire, he insisted, were not angels but compassionate goddesses who would appeal to the Great Father above to be lenient in his justice against sinners and compassionate to the poor. By the time of his death, Triarchy, the belief in the trinity of Gods, was taking hold throughout the island's west.
When the Organization subtly took over a century later, it was made easier by this fracturing of faiths and political authority. Once the Organization was defeated, this suppressed religious conflict soon came back to the fore. Riots and tensions between Orthodox and Triarchs finally boiled over after the devout Triarchs King Philippe and Queen Violetta tried to overthrow the government. Raki de Lautrec, no supporter of theirs, soon found himself branded almost as traitorous by Orthodox faithful for living openly as a Triarch in the holy city of Rabona…
Cid didn't know what he liked less, the fact that Natalie was late or the fact that he had to talk to her about her pet tiger yet again.
He cursed quietly while tapping the table he was seated upon, "Damn that girl, where the hell is she?"
He was waiting in the entrance of the manor he and Miria owned on the Île des Poires, which was on a river island south of Rabona's massive walls. It was a nice enough place, full of tapestries, fine stained-glass windows, magnificent new Maghrebi carpets, ornate Comnenian chandeliers, Bretonese port, Asturian silverware and much more. With the family's bank vaults nearly overflowing with foreign gold, silver and currency used to pay for diamonds; Miria had gone on a buying spree. He had persuaded her to tone it down a notch, but it did sometimes seem useless, as the family was being deluged in seemingly endless wealth. As such he couldn't really object to Miria's massive expansion plans for their residence on the Île des Poires.
All this extravagant wealth had also transformed Miria's kindly maternal nature into doting on and spoiling Natalie with gift after expensive gift. It was aggravating enough for Cid that he and Miria had had a row over just how to raise Natalie. It was after he'd left to let things cool down that an issue had come up regarding Natalie's pet tiger, Dabi.
He heard vague sounds through the manor's thick and well-chiseled granite, and seconds later, Natalie walked in through the mahogany front door. Cid sighed inwardly when he noticed Natalie was wearing yet another fancy dress, this one adorned with diamonds and full of rich red and gold fabric. Cid cringed just thinking about the price tag.
"Bonjour Papa," Natalie greeted him as she walked in.
"Natalie, we need to talk about your cat," he declared.
Natalie scarcely seemed to pay this much serious attention, "Oh come on Papa, what's he done this time, gone to the bathroom in the house? I trained him too well for that."
She was just about to walk by when he reached out and grabbed her by the arm, "Dabi killed the neighbor's dog."
Natalie squirmed out of his grasp, "Dad, you shouldn't touch a girl!"
Cid snarled, "I am your father, Natalie! Your cat swam across the river and killed the Janssen's Allemanian Shepherd Dog. They're demanding compensation and the rest of the neighbors want your cat euthanized for their safety. The maids were refusing to work in the house as long as he was allowed to wander free. I had to lock him up outside in a big pen just to save him from himself."
Natalie, ever protective of her favorite cat, reacted badly, "Dabi wouldn't hurt a fly if he wasn't provoked. That stupid dog kept barking and snarling at him and—"
"He's a 150-pound wild predator, Natalie," Cid countered, "and it's high time you realized we cannot keep him like we would a housecat."
"He is perfectly tame," Natalie pleaded, "I'll train him like nothing else and…"
Cid scarcely paid any attention to Natalie's rationalizing; tigers after all were never meant to be pets.
He started paying attention again right as Natalie finished her long rant, "…and how do the Janssen's even know it was Dabi? I bet it was one of the local wolf packs that—"
"Your cat dropped the Janssen's dog's body in front of me this morning as if he expected me to reward him," Cid cut her off.
Natalie was flummoxed for once, but before she could respond there was a pounding on the mahogany door.
"I'm busy right now," Cid shouted, "if you have a message or gift just leave it in the mailbox!"
The man outside ignored this and rushed in, falling to his feet, breathless, "I humbly beg your pardon, Comte Malaga, but it's urgent. Brigadier General Soult has sent troops into the Parliament. It's a coup!"
Cid was surprised to find this did not make him nervous, rather he felt a sort of deadly calm settle over him like he felt when trying to kill Agatha.
Cid helped the young man to his feet, "You did well, young man. Are you Ruud van Willems oldest boy?"
"I am," the brown-haired younger man gasped, "just please hurry, my father's in there!"
Cid rushed into down the grand staircase to the manor's basement, and moments after walking in he found the arms locker. He heard footsteps as he slung a sword-belt around his waist and looked up.
Natalie gawked, "Dad, what are you doing?"
Cid sheathed his old sword and attached it to the belt, "Your mother is out in the field, and last I checked she would never tolerate a coup. I'm going to warn her before it's too late."
Ruud van Willems' boy interjected, "But what if she's behind it?"
Cid stared at the boyish face of Ruud van Willems' son, "If it's come to that, Hans van Willems, I am going to beat some sense into my wife."
Alevtina felt distinctly uncomfortable watching from several meters away as Wenceslaus settled into his seat. Seated opposite him was a silver-eyed female slayer who had only days previously been introduced to them as Kasia Romanowa. She was wearing a spectacular white and gold-braided military uniform, and standing to either side of her were Silver Guards in full duratium plate armor. One of them Alevtina instantly identified as Katja Tymoshenko, the bizarrely-named Silver Guard Commander of Bengali descent. Wenceslaus put it all together before Alevtina could.
"Rather bold of you, Cesarzowa," he complimented while pouring himself a cup of tea. "Meeting me under a false identity to gauge my true personality was either the most brilliant or foolish thing you could have done. It was also disrespectful," Wenceslaus told her bluntly.
Alevtina felt her stomach clench; there was nothing she feared more than Wenceslaus' stubborn pride running into the Cesarzowa's well-known prickly demeanor.
The caramel-skinned Cesarzowa smirked, "Strange how those things tend to go together. I suggest you get over your stubborn demand for respect; I am not marrying a man sight unseen without judging him with my own eyes. As it is, we've matters to discuss, which is why I invited you out to the Temple of the Eight."
Katarzyna gestured to the immense open temple around them. Its roof was hundreds of feet overhead, all of it supported by eight immense granite columns. Next to each column on the temple's interior floor were large shrines, each in turn dwarfed by the columns flanking them. At least fifty Silver Guards and twice that number of Imperials Guardsmen were standing about on guard duty lighting the area with torches. Alevtina could only see darkness as she looked out into the gardens, which was disappointing, as she had heard they were magnificent sights.
The Cesarzowa's tone changed, "As for disrespect, I seem to recall you allowed the people of Seville the vote. Perhaps you can tell me what they did with it that has so upset the entire Romanow family."
Alevtina's stomach clenched as Wenceslaus set his tea down and eyed his empress warily, "If you want the people of Seville on your side in the future, you need to give them a voice in their governance. Whatever their assembly votes for is the genuine wish of a free people. I seem to recall you advocated for the freedom of slaves early in your reign. What's wrong with granting the people a vote?"
Katarzyna rose to her feet and in a commanding voice countered, "What's wrong? The first thing they voted to do was to outlaw inter-racial marriage. Your 'freedom-loving' Sevillans loved freedom so much they decided to strip it from everyone who disagreed with their bigotry and in the process insulted my entire family! So congratulations, Duke Wenceslaus, for empowering a bunch of bigots and showing what a sham democracy is."
Wenceslaus calmly stood up, "It is the democratic will of the people, and we ignore it at our peril. The arc of history is long, but I am confident that the people of Seville will come to change their minds with time and persuasion. You cannot mandate such change from on high."
The Cesarzowa and Wenceslaus stared each other down, "You believe in the inherent goodness of mankind, Duke Wenceslaus?"
"It's the one thing that sustains me," Wenceslaus admitted.
Katarzyna brushed a wavy length of hair out of one eye as she said, "Then it must pain you to remember that those same Sevillans actively demonstrated for the Alliance High Command to use Awakened against insurrection in the Bengali Empire. Must be a terribly hard thing for you to do, rationalizing away their support for the indiscriminate murder of five million people. I happen to remember the 'good people' of Seville from my childhood. Perhaps my experience may prove of interest."
Wenceslaus looked disheartened for once, "Cesarzowa, I did not mean that all people are good. There are certainly some people who do not care for the well-being of others."
Romanowa smirked, "Some? When my father moved to Seville when I was seven, the mayor was there to greet us the first day he took me to school. Not to welcome us, but to inform my father that his 'bi-racial abomination of a daughter' wouldn't be allowed to attend. Afterwards we were stoned by the schoolchildren as we left, all of them under the age of twelve. Two private tutors refused to teach me because I was a symbol in their eyes of my father's unforgivable sin of marrying a woman outside his race. Eventually he hired a blind scholar who couldn't tell my race; to him I sounded Comnenian."
The Cesarzowa sat down and smirked, "Ironic, isn't it? The only man who didn't care about my caramel skin was the one who couldn't see it. Of course it was no better when we moved to the Luo Triarchy when I was nine. I was spat upon and called a 'fake Bantu' and 'whitey'. Few blacks or whites wanted anything to do with a mixed-race 'abomination' like me. It's strange to see what becoming silver-eyed and successful does to bigotry. Now I can't go anywhere without my people of either race trying to claim I am in fact one of them."
Wenceslaus looked like he had made an unhappy realization, "Cesarzowa…"
The Cesarzowa left no room for doubt, "There is no force under the heavens that will convince me to ever hand over government control to people like that. You think people are good because you fit in, Duke Wenceslaus, but people like myself were treated like dirt because we were different. So don't tell me the people want freedom. They want freedom for people who look like them and to run roughshod over those who don't. If you want…"
Katarzyna Romanowa trailed off at the noise of an approaching visitor.
Katja Tymoshenko leaned over and whispered something into the Cesarzowa's ear.
"He wasn't supposed to be here for another half hour," Romanowa fumed.
Alevtina soon knew why the Cesarzowa looked unhappy; Sergei Djugashvili was walking up the steps to the temple trailed by four unarmed members of his entourage.
"Cesarzowa," Sergei bowed briefly, "I thought I'd arrive early to our meeting, but I can see you're already meeting with Wenceslaus. Why?"
The look of annoyance on Katarzyna Romanowa's face said it all, "Why? I am discussing issues about the governance of Seville with Duke Wenceslaus, which you have rashly decided to interrupt."
Sergei was wearing a single piece of plate armor over his chest, but was otherwise wearing an outfit featuring the puffy sleeves and rich colors that were in fashion at the Romanow court. He looked dressed to meet the Cesarzowa and rather flamboyant compared to Wenceslaus, who was wearing a black and white-striped elegant outfit in contrast. Wenceslaus, who was usually very hard to anger, was looking at Sergei with visible annoyance. Sergei gave Wenceslaus a knowing smirk in reply.
Sergei's long hair fluttered in the night breeze as he crossed his arms, "Cesarzowa, I am here because of an unjust investigation against me. Why is my good name being besmirched by your intelligence agents?"
Wait, what? Dietrich's investigating all possibilities behind the assassination, not just Sergei. Why does he think this is about him?
The Cesarzowa frowned, "I have a better question. I'd like to know who told you about the investigation and why you think it's centered on you."
Hell broke out in the space of a heartbeat, for Sergei's right arm explosively expanded as it awakened. It grew into obscene-looking series of octopus-like arms, one of which raced towards Katja Tymoshenko. Before Katja was even able to draw her sword she'd been sent flying into the nearest column and knocked unconscious. A dozen other Silver Guards were similarly unprepared for the sudden assault and sent flying.
Katarzyna Romanowa, who was unarmed, was grasped tightly by three of the tentacles and held in mid-air. Wenceslaus in contrast reacted so fast Alevtina could have sworn his movement was blurring. When five tentacles raced his way, he may have been unarmed but he managed to jump out of the way of two, kick another to the side, smash the next approaching tentacle into the ground, and then tore the last tentacle apart. Alevtina was left untouched, as were the forty remaining Silver Guards who had all drawn their weapons and encircled the temple. Sergei however seemed unconcerned.
Sergei turned to his male followers, "Boys, why don't you even the odds?"
Four transformations in a few seconds later, a quartet of powerful and gruesome-looking Awakened beings were in a tense standoff with the Silver Guard. Sergei's transformation was far less, with only one arm transformed into a swarm of tentacles, leaving him otherwise human.
"You piece of scum," Wenceslaus spat as he picked up a sword, "have you lost all your sense? You turned yourself into a monster just so you could seize power?"
Sergei gave a sinister smile right back, "But that's where you're wrong Wenceslaus. I awakened long ago; it's just that now that the Cesarzowa has so generously defeated the Grand Alliance's invasion, I won't be under Stahl Fang's grasp like we agreed before his invasion. It will be as the world intended; the world's greatest power will be led by an Awakened."
Alevtina felt sick to her stomach as Sergei and Wenceslaus prepared for a conflict that would decide the fate of the world.
"I don't like this," Indira complained as she readied her duratium-forged halberd.
The brown-skinned slayer glanced over her weapon and armor as she readied for what was surely a history-defining moment.
Minhae Choung Park could only sigh in agreement, "What do you expect? We counted on Raftela's guarantee that the Cesarzowa would be dead by her hand. I told Sergei we shouldn't have trusted someone who was out purely for revenge."
Indira's long pigtails whipped around in the dull light of the barracks, "What did she want revenge for again?"
Minhae sheathed both of her lethally-sharp Katanas and replied, "The girl wanted vengeance for her former commander, Lillian O'Malley. If she had done it silently like I'd advised we wouldn't have to be arming ourselves now. The idiot apparently tried to kill the Cesarzowa while she was still awake."
Worry crept into the shorter, brown-skinned slayer's voice, "Then why precisely is Sergei going to try killing both Wenceslaus and Katarzyna while they're both awake?"
Minhae rarely felt anxiety course through her body, but now she did. She was one of the six "elite warriors" known for taking out a Smok regularly in one-on-one combat. Two of those six, namely Bastia and Rima Romanowa, were members of the Cesarzowa's family. A third, Wenceslaus, was downright hostile to Sergei. It had not been hard to come to the conclusion that in order for a coup to work, all three of these warriors and the Cesarzowa had to die. Ordinarily Minhae would have felt extremely confident in pulling off the killing of three elite warriors by surprise attack, but the Cesarzowa was no ordinary slayer.
"You worry too much about Sergei," Minhae reproached Indira. "There is nothing that can stop him becoming Cesarz. It's why we support him; to try to stop him would be a death sentence. No slayer of his strength has ever awakened, survived, and successfully hidden his new state. As strong as he is, Wenceslaus won't be expecting what Sergei has in store. It'll likely be over in seconds."
"Pity," Indira Raheja murmured, "I was rather hoping there'd be an epic fight."
"Better not," Minhae cautioned.
Minhae felt the pauldrons upon her shoulders being pulled tight.
"That's good," Minhae approved, "it feels secure."
The silver-eyed male warrior adjusting her armor nodded silently. Minhae looked over her armor and that of Indira's. They were both wearing the standard plate armor of slayers, with a full cuirass protecting their torsos, tassets protecting part of their upper legs, armored boots upon their feet, pauldrons protecting their necks, shoulders and upper arms, and gauntlets protecting their hands, wrists and lower arms. It was all made of steel, unlike the unbreakable duratium plate armor of the Silver Guards, but it was lighter. It also protected them against arrows, which for a slayer could quickly go from hindrance to lethal in high quantities.
They both put on their simple steel helmets, which had noseguards but still allowed a wide field of vision. Minhae glanced back in the dim, candle-lit confines of the stone barracks to find ten of her loyal comrades similarly armed and armored.
"Remember there is to be no use of yoki energy while we move towards the palace," Minhae told them sternly. "Nine other groups of our warriors will coalesce around ours as we approach, so I want this approach quiet and over the rooftops. We're going to be killing off the most dangerous of the Romanow warriors first. Rima will follow; just leave them and the Silver Guards to us when possible."
Minhae followed Indira out into the pitch-black night, as the coup had been fortuitously timed with an eclipse of the moon. This had less to do with planning and more with coincidence, as the Romanows' investigating had spooked Sergei. Minhae knew only too well it would only be a matter of time before the Imperial Intelligence Service figured it out. Either they would find a document here in Visegrad or someone in the Grand Alliance would inform the Cesarzowa that Sergei had struck a bargain with Stahl Fang's delegates shortly before the invasion.
They rushed over the rooftops as quietly as they could, most of Visegrad luckily being asleep at this time of night. One group joined up a few houses away from the city-edge barracks from whence they'd started. Others followed; Minhae pushed the pace now, as stealth became increasingly impractical as the group of conspirators grew. Luckily there were roofs and home over one bridge standing over the Visegrad River, so they didn't have to go to ground yet.
By the time there were one hundred silver-eyed slayers behind Minhae, the Imperial Guard had obviously caught wind of their movements. Alarm sirens, church bells and temple horns were blaring all across the city. Minhae was forced to go to ground when a large volley of gunfire peppered the roofs just in front of them. They rushed up the hill at top speed now, Minhae and Indira rushing ahead to hack off the heads of a dozen Imperial Guardsmen who attempted to slow their way. Despite the road being winding and uphill, they made good time and no one was yet panting.
Minhae reached the hill's crest alongside Indira to find the black and gold-embroidered front gates before them. A massive imperial eagle emblem, gilded in gold, was attached to the two-story tall wrought iron gates.
"Well, look at that, they've prepared a welcoming party already," Indira sniffed.
A few hundred meters beyond the front gates was the palace's grand main entrance, which had hundreds of Imperial Guardsmen in a defensive formation before it. Minhae knew this was a waste of manpower. One of the great advantages of slayers was their mobility, in particular their running speed and jumping prowess.
Indira sneered, "Fucking idiots, whoever said we had to go in the front door when there are plenty of windows?"
Her sneering didn't last long, for just as Minhae sliced through the lock, a volley of shots rang out. The distance was too great for them to be accurate, but Minhae was jolted to attention when the male slayer to her left went down to a headshot.
She smashed open the front gates and waved on her conspirators, "Move, move, move!"
"This way to Bastia," Indira shouted, leading the conspirators left.
They sprinted across the cobblestone-paved grounds under withering but inaccurate fire, as only a few bullets found their mark. Luckily for them, none was a headshot.
Minhae noticed they hadn't encountered Silver Guards yet, but that would soon change. She drew her curved Katanas and with a tremendous leap flung herself skyward. She hit the palace three stories up, smashing through a window helmet-first with a loud crash. She landed on a hard floor and knocked a frightened servant off their feet. He screamed out for guards but Indira put an abrupt end to with a halberd through the man's heart.
Minhae heard men converging on the room's door and compensated by kicking it in. As she hacked at the dust this brought up, she found a couple of soldiers crushed underneath the now-misshapen metal door. A glance back into the room whence she'd come found slayers pouring in, although they were not yet twenty strong. To make way Minhae waved those inside to come out. Outside the dull whine of the sirens grew sharper as more were wound up.
"There they are!"
Indira scoffed as a platoon of Imperial Guards lined up in the hall before them, a solid wall of pikes now in the way. Behind them a line of crossbowmen had loaded their bows and readied them for action.
"Morons," Indira sneered.
Minhae unsheathed her curved Katanas and a split second later the dozen crossbowmen fired from less than twenty meters away. She eyed the incoming arrows and slashed out with her swords, deflecting or knocking down all arrows coming close to her. With Indira doing likewise, the volley was made nearly useless.
"I say it's high time we showed Katarzyna's poodles why she fears us," Indira laughed.
She charged headlong towards the pikes, and at the last second slashed out with her halberd, shearing the heads off several pikes. Minhae followed up, only instead she jumped over the formation, and with relish, used two horizontal strikes to cut down a quartet of crossbowmen in a spray of blood. When an Imperial Guardsman tried to hack at her head with his sword, Minhae deflected the blow with one blade and spun to decapitate him with the other. Within moments the formation lay dead and bloody at the feet of her fellow conspirators.
"Nothing to it," Indira remarked, her armor and face speckled with blood.
"I suppose we should be glad Bastia is giving birth as we speak," Minhae commented. "Sergei has excellent accidental timing; we need to overthrow the Romanows and Bastia goes into labor at the same time. How should we greet her new Romanow heirs, Indira?"
Indira replied in a black humor, "With swords between the eyes."
"Commanders, everyone is accounted for," a young male slayer informed them.
"Well then, it's time to show the Romanows that raw power does matter after all," Minhae laughed, "perhaps you can teach Bastia how to properly swallow swords as part of the lesson, Indira."
Indira smirked, "I think she'll find swallowing my halberd even harder."
Minhae raised her sword and pointed the way, "Compatriots, let's go!"
They rushed through the palace like a force of nature, cutting through rank after rank of Imperial Guardsmen. They were nearing Bastia's yoki signature when it became clear that she wasn't the only Romanow they would be seeing.
"Minhae," Indira said while pulling her weapon out of a dead man, "Rima's heading right for us. You want to meet her head-on?"
Minhae turned and looked past the crowd of her compatriots down the palace's grand hall. It seemed to stretch on forever, with massive chandelier after massive chandelier in view. At the far end, just visible, were a number of tiny figures who were at least two kilometers distant, Minhae judged. Rima and her nearly-as-lethal bodyguards were rushing towards them and could not be ignored. But to engage them would be to throw away their chance at taking out Bastia, her husband Leon, and the first Romanow heirs.
"We'll deal with them after Bastia," Minhae decided. "We can't afford to give up an opportunity to deal with Bastia while she's in childbirth. We both know she's the more deadly and seasoned warrior of those two."
With this they rushed off leading the 100-strong cohort towards the palace's maternity ward, which was chock full of dozens of yoki signatures. It could only mean that the Silver Guard was in full force and waiting for them.
The group ran around a corner in the dark palace, and Minhae stopped immediately. A full company of men and two Silver Guards were waiting for them just outside the grand mahogany doors to the maternity ward. The hall was narrow enough to make maneuvering useless, but wide enough to allow the fully company to face them at once. A full three lines of pikemen and two lines of crossbowmen faced them, weapons at the ready.
A Silver Guard made a motion, and forty bows let loose at once. Minhae had no problems with protecting herself, nor did Indira, but several compatriots screamed out in pain. The volley had killed a pair of slayers, a dangerous loss given they were about to face off with dozens of Silver Guards.
"You'll pay for that," Minhae hissed.
She charged ahead and smashed into the ranks of brave-but-doomed Imperial Guardsmen. Indira and the others followed, and soon the steel armor of the Imperial Guards was being parted by duratium weapons. Minhae hacked down one Imperial Guard, but her attempt to cut down another was stopped by a sword-wielding Silver Guard. Indira faced off with the other Silver Guard and the dueling suddenly became serious.
Minhae somersaulted forward and just barely dodged a horizontal slash from the Silver Guard. Upon getting to her feet, she just managed to deflect the next blow with the blade in her left hand and slashed out with the other in his right. The Katana smashed against the side of the Silver Guard's duratium helmet but could not penetrate. Minhae's opponent staggered from the blow for a moment before counterattacking.
He stabbed towards her head with his claymore. The Minhae sidestepped and deflected the stab a little away with one sword. Minhae knew Silver Guards' armor was impenetrable, but it was not all-covering. She took advantage of the open-faced helmet and simply stabbed into the warrior's face. The male Silver Guard crumpled as she withdrew the blood-stained blade. Minhae turned to find Indira had similarly taken care of the other Silver Guard.
A few moments later the last of the valiant but foolhardy Imperial Guardsmen were finished off, their bodies left hacked to pieces in a pool of blood. The scene was dimly lit by candles in several chandeliers far overhead, the low light making everything look even more hellish. Minhae shook the blood off her boots' bottoms and stepped forward towards the grand mahogany doors of the maternity ward.
"I can't wait to see the look of desperation on that bitch's face," Indira said with a wicked smile. "Time is short; let's finish this!"
Indira kicked open the doors and Minhae blinked at the bright light within. As her eyes adjusted she found the marble-floored entrance hall brightly lit by an enormous silver chandelier full of burning candles. It was the scene underneath this that caused Minhae's stomach to sink. It appeared a full battalion of Imperial Guardsmen were lined up only thirty meters away against them in the wide hall. Lined up within the front row of pikemen were some forty Silver Guards wielding halberds. It made piercing the lines immensely more difficult.
Minhae's grip on her swords tightened as she noted the full situation. The first row, a full hundred men and Silver Guards wide, was followed by another row of pikemen. Behind this wall of pikes, halberds, and Silver Guards were a full three rows of musketeers. All of these men had their matchlocks fuses smoldering and their guns aimed and ready to fire. Minhae's heartbeat leaped at seeing three hundred guns pointed in her direction. There would be no chance of the bullets missing their mark at this distance. Nor could either she or Indira hope to deflect any of the bullets; arrows were one thing, bullets quite another.
Standing in the back of this formation were a further ten Silver Guards preventing any jumping over the formation and heading to Bastia's bed in the room beyond. Most noticeable amongst these figures was the flashy armor of a dark-skinned female Silver Guard officer. Minhae recognized Aminata instantly; Aminata after all had been a famous commander after leaving Katarzyna Romanowa's squad.
"Clever girl," Minhae bitterly complimented Aminata.
Aminata in turn shouted to her men, "Fire!"
Galk was sipping wine from a cup in his office when a younger officer in armor rushed in. He set down the wine with some aggravation as the young man breathlessly set down a sealed envelope before him on his desk.
Galk broke the seal and aggravated, said, "I hope this warrants bursting in here."
The younger officer blinked but did not say a word in his defense.
Galk looked up, "A coup by Brigadier General Soult?"
The young officer nodded, "I was with Major Janssen just outside Parliament when we saw Brigadier General Soult's troops pass. He sent them straight into Parliament and killed the guards there. He's overthrowing the government! What are your orders, sir?"
Galk got up, dusted off his blue military vest, and walked to his office's windows looking north towards central Rabona. There was not much to see, as the office was located atop a three-story barracks built into the side of Rabona's massive walls. Across the street five-story blockhouses blocked his view of anything else but the bustle of the cobblestone streets below.
Galk murmured, "Who's behind it?"
"Sir?"
Galk turned to face the younger, mustached man, "Who gave Soult that order?"
"I… I don't know, sir," the young officer admitted. "Major Janssen thought Soult was acting without—"
Galk cut him off, "I don't care what Janssen thinks but what's really going on. I want to know if there's anyone behind the act or not. If General Malaga authorized this, then that changes everything. You are to go to the village of East Kerouac. General Miria Malaga is encamped just south of it overseeing some war game exercises. You will see her, ask about Soult, and get back to me with her reply."
The young officer blinked, "Major General, your older brother is in that Parliament… sir," he amended. "Would it not be better to at least intervene to keep him safe?"
The younger officer, a mere lieutenant by the look of his armor, was clearly trying to get him to intervene against Soult. Galk wasn't about to take the bait.
Galk sat down and breathed deep, "Soult would have to be an idiot to let anything happen to Gaspar. I'd cut off his balls if he let any harm come to my brother, and Soult bloody well knows it. Gaspar ought to be fine, but send someone to Parliament anyways to remind Soult."
The mustached lieutenant was clearly disappointed, "We're not intervening?"
Galk's temper flared, "What would you have me do, tell our men to kill their compatriots for no good reason?"
"You swore an oath, General; an oath to uphold the law and orders of the government!"
Galk leaned over his desk and bellowed, "And if I followed your advice and it turned out the General had authorized a coup? That would be a disaster! This country is close enough to chaos without me pushing it over the edge."
The young Lieutenant would not be cowed, "What if Soult's done this without General Malaga's permission? What are you going to say when she asks you what you were doing while this went down?"
Galk knew he would have to do something or this man would portray him to Miria as condoning Soult's work if the coup had been done without her consent.
"The capital will be going on lock-down outside the citadel district in the meantime," Galk growled, "and you can tell her I was the one who ordered that."
The lieutenant shook his head, "I thought you were a better man. You swore this government an oath, sir, and I for one do not take oaths lightly."
Galk stared down the younger man, "I swore an oath to obey my superior officers and the upholders of the True Faith as well. I don't give a damn for your precious Parliament and its squabbling, corrupt politicians! They've allowed Raki de Lautrec, a known heretic and believer of the Triarchy, into their body."
The lieutenant was quick on the counter, "Are you a supporter of the Inquisition then?"
Galk snapped, "I was against the Inquisition's fanaticism, and I'm against corrupting this country with tolerance of heresy. Mark my words, the more Triarchs are tolerated the easier it will be for the Angevins to come back and claim their throne. That's why I don't intend to lift a finger against Soult until ordered to do so. In fact, I intend to enjoy thinking about how Raki and his heretic scum supporters will squirm before I get my orders. You have your orders lieutenant, now carry them out."
The younger man resentfully obeyed, but it was clear he was close to mutinying. The door to his office closed loudly, but Galk didn't care. All that he could think about was whether or not Miria had endorsed the coup or not. He knew it would be a tricky balancing act to figure out how to behave given this uncertainty.
Is she behind the coup or against it? God have mercy if I make a misstep.
Cid urged his horse on with the whip, its speed picking up as it tore up the last mile of muddy road on the way to his wife's camp. Overhead the snow-covered crests of the Border Mountains loomed large, while to his front was a large gap; the Kerouac Gorge. It looked so close, but Cid knew from experience that the Kerouac Gorge was far further away than his eyes were telling him. Three miles downhill from its eastern entrance lay the village of East Kerouac, the furthest west people in Toulouse had settled. Cid glimpsed the village church tower's silhouette in the amber glow of sunset.
It was the small sea of tents just beyond that was his destination. He scarcely slowed down as he trotted the horse through the twisty boulevards of East Kerouac. Villagers scrambled out of the way, cursing him or too shocked for words. He turned the corner to find a wagon in his way, but the horse jumped it and he galloped on.
Soldiers in full armor were practice-dueling with wooden swords and spears as he rode into their camp. Cid slowed the horse to a quick walk now and then dismounted when he'd arrived before the massive white and blue commanding officer's tent. A pair of armored soldiers wielding halberds guarded the entrance.
"Dad, wait up!"
Cid turned to find Natalie coming into camp past line after line of tents upon her own horse, mud spattered all over the bottom fringes of her incredibly expensive red dress. She hopped off and rushed over.
"I told you to get changed," Cid snapped, exasperated, "not go ruining your fancy dress by riding after me in it!"
Natalie, level-headed, replied coolly, "This isn't the time for worrying about that. You told me the country's fate depends on what happens today. I could not waste all that time undressing and dressing when you need me to help talk to mom."
Cid glanced at the horse and then Natalie, "Why didn't you run? You could've—"
Natalie rolled her eyes, "In a dress like this? First of all, you can't run in a dress like this, and secondly, dad, I'd have had to rip it open just in order to try. Come on, we should get going inside to talk to mom."
They were about to head inside the tent when the guards crossed over their halberds to block entrance, "The General said she is not to be disturbed."
Cid snapped, "Do I look like any ordinary country bumpkin to you, boys? Natalie and I are her family, and you should know that doesn't apply to us."
One of the men wasn't quite convinced by this, "Comte de Malaga, she left very specific orders that absolutely no one was to disturb her. I cannot in—"
Cid snapped, "Step aside or I'll make you wish you had. There's a coup going down at this very moment in Rabona, and I do not intend to do nothing about it."
The soldiers parted their halberds and let them through into the darkened interior of the tent. He noticed Miria's large strategy table topped with chess figures representing the location of troops and fortresses. Several chairs lay empty alongside the table, which had drawn atop it the map of the entire Isle of Toulouse. It made an impressive sight; the four peninsulas making the island appear like a four-pointed star in the sea. It was for this reason why the kingdom's flag featured a white, four-pointed star upon a blue background.
Just such a flag was draped down the far side of the tent's interior, next to the entrance to the tent's personal chamber. Cid noticed light creeping pas a partly open tent flap and hurried over. His heart began to beat more loudly in his head with each approaching step.
Please God, I will give anything to you for her not be involved in this coup.
Cid opened the flap, allowed Natalie in, and looked around.
At first glance Cid saw a fire in the center, with rugs a safe distance away covering the grass. The chamber had a hole at its top to let out the smoke, and a number of bookcases, maps, small tables, candlewicks, and ornate chairs. At first glance he didn't see Miria anywhere in the chamber, although the fire was dim and not lighting much of it. Natalie patted his arm and pointed to a chair facing away from them. He could see an armored hand when Natalie pointed at a chair's arm in the far end.
"Miria dear," Cid called out as they walked closer, "we've got to talk."
Miria didn't respond, but instead her hand curled.
Natalie rounded the chair first, "Mom, Brigadier General Soult's gone nuts. He's killed the Parliament's guards and seized control of it with his soldiers. You have to put it down before more people get killed."
Cid noticed Miria didn't seem to be more than blinking in reaction to this. In fact, other than blinking, she hadn't seemed to have moved an inch or uttered a sound.
Natalie was flustered at the lack of response, "Is this your idea of being a great leader? Come on mom, now isn't the time to slouch off. Talk to us!"
Natalie started shaking Miria in her armor, but Cid grabbed her arms, "I don't think she's joking around with us, Natalie. Miria, if you can hear me, for the love of the Father Above say something."
Miria didn't even move an inch or give an indication she saw or heard him.
Natalie was bewildered, "What's wrong with mom, dad? Why isn't she speaking to us? Is it something we did? What's going on?"
"I don't know," Cid admitted, "but I have a hunch your mother's very ill."
Natalie snapped, "Mom isn't ill! Claymores don't get ill; everyone knows that! We become immune to disease after we're hybridized; Aunt Helen and everyone else say so. Come on Mom, I get the joke, just knock it off!"
Natalie shook Miria so violently she knocked Miria and the chair over onto their backs.
Cid yelled, "Get a handle on yourself, Natalie! Shaking her is not helping matters! You should know by now not all illnesses are in of the body. Some are in—"
"Oh my head," Miria groaned, reaching out with a hand to her forehead.
Natalie and Cid scrambled to help Miria and put her chair back on its legs.
See it worked," Natalie murmured, unhappy at being criticized.
Miria rubbed her forehead and Cid breathed a huge sigh of relief.
"Thank you Father," Cid sighed as he looked up.
Miria blinked in surprise at seeing them, "When did you two get here? I must've fallen asleep; I was just about ready to come and find you!"
Cid gave her the bad news, "Miria, we've been here trying to talk with you for the last minute and your eyes were wide open."
Miria looked down, ashamed, "Please, you can't tell anyone about this. I'm trying my best to fight it; if someone were to find out…"
Cid dropped down onto one knee and hugged her tight, "You should have told us, dear. What is family for if you do not ask them for support in your time of need?"
"I'm so sorry," Miria sniffed, her head lying on his shoulder.
Natalie interrupted with her usual tact, "Mom, you have to help us. Brigadier General Soult's taken over the Parliament; he's overthrowing the government in a coup! You're the only one that can stop him."
Miria sighed but otherwise did not react other than to put her hands together underneath her chin as if she were contemplating something.
When Miria stopped moving for five seconds and only blinked, Cid's heart sank.
"Oh no, not again," he despaired. "Come on Miria, I need you to get out of this."
Miria's mouth opened, but the voice was different, "Your wife would be listening, but quite frankly I think she's too divided to act on your stupid concerns about a coup. I would rather she didn't listen to you on such matters."
Miria's voice had changed into one lower and more sinister, while her eyes suggested a very different person was inside Miria's body.
Cid jumped back, "What in hell's name is going on?"
Natalie slapped her mother, perhaps hoping to repeat her prior experience, "Mom, knock it off, you're scaring us!"
This scarier Miria returned the favor, knocking Natalie straight off her feet, over a chair, and onto the chamber's carpets.
Cid jumped to his daughter's defense, "Miria, stop it, grab a hold of yourself! Don't you see what you're doing?"
Miria grabbed him by the collar with an armored hand and held him close, "I'm not Miria. Miria is that pathetically divided woman you knew as your wife. Unfortunately, she's very, very sick inside, so she needed someone stronger to deal with matters. My name is Ophelia, and quite frankly I don't care whether you want me to stop a coup or not. You're not my husband but Miria's."
Cid plucked up the nerve to ask, "Is that what you think, Demon? Get out of my wife's body or I'll have the church exorcise it out!"
The reaction to this was utterly unlike Miria; manic laughter.
Natalie had gotten up and was rubbing her red cheek where she'd been slapped, a look of utter shock upon her face. This was not the Miria they had known.
"I said my name's Ophelia, you cocky bastard," this more sinister Miria shot back. "Oh, of all the stupid things men do, to think when she's going mad it's because of demons is a real classic. I tell you she's sick and the first thing you do is blame demons. You haven't even bothered to ask or inquire about your wife's health in the last year. This has nothing to do with demons, I assure you."
Natalie was now hiding behind him as "Ophelia" Miria advanced on them.
Cid stood his ground, "Who are you?"
'Ophelia' Miria smiled, "I am one of your wife's personalities she'd prefer kept deep down and out of sight, but I just can't stay inside anymore. This world is too glorious to keep me out of it. I came into being when her illness worsened, and as it's gotten worse she's even developed another far too kind for my liking. I like to call that personality Tabitha, especially because that really upsets your dear wife. Miria likes to hog the limelight, but you can't keep a bitch like me down for long."
Cid felt his breathing get slower and slower as he listened, "Did you order the coup in my wife's name?"
She gave him a smile even more sinister than the late Awakened Agatha, "Oh dear, what I wouldn't have given to have made that order. Getting rid of that aggravating Lautrec family would be wonderful. No, Cid, I didn't give the order, and neither did your wife for that matter. She still has that stupid conscience preventing her from doing what's necessary. But thanks for reminding me; I'll get right to ordering that coup while I'm in control."
Cid felt tears streaking down his cheeks as he had to draw his sword, "I can't let you do that, dear. Please Miria, I know you're in there somewhere dear. I need you to overcome this and put down the coup. Don't make the mistake of letting this illness turn you against your family and all you once cherished."
The reply was dark, "You pathetic man, do you think Natalie and you can stop me?"
Cid's sword-hand trembled from turning his sword on his wife, "Miria… don't let this illness turn you into a monster. Think of our daughter, of our love for each other, what we've fought so hard for together. Don't let this happen, Miria; I need you to overcome this and put down the coup for the love of God, your country and your family."
'Ophelia' Miria merely sneered and reached for her claymore. She abruptly stopped when her hand wrapped around it.
A softer voice came out of Miria's mouth, "Stop it you fool!"
Miria shook her head as if there were a battle going on inside.
Cid urged this mental battle on, "Come on Miria, fight her! Don't make me turn my sword against the woman I love."
"Get back to where you should be, Tabi," the dark-sided side of Miria snapped.
Miria's head jerked back to her other side, "Stop it, you're going to hurt him!"
It jerked back once more, the low voice of 'Ophelia' coming out, "Stupid girl, that's the whole point! Fine, if I can't draw the sword then I'll knock them aside."
A sudden jerk of movement and Cid found his world turned upside down and blurry. There was a great deal of noise in the background, but in his daze it took precious seconds to sort the sounds out. He found himself on his back and knocked over a chair. It took precious seconds to get back up and see what was happening.
Natalie was trapped underneath her mother, who was trying to knock her out.
Natalie gasped as Miria's hands wrapped around her throat, "Mom, it's me!"
Cid rushed over to stop this crazed version of his wife but she knocked him back with a preemptive smack of her hand. He painfully landed on his ass, the pain only moderated by his dazed condition. 'Ophelia' Miria was meanwhile trying her best to destroy the family.
Natalie pleaded with a desperate cry, "Mom!"
Miria's hands slackened moments later and she pulled off Natalie and began looking in horror at her hands. An uncontrollable stream of tears began washing down her face.
"I'm so sorry," Miria sobbed, "… for all of this. I don't tell you about this illness and here I go nearly letting it destroy our family. Oh God, what is wrong with me?"
Natalie, despite being choked moments earlier, rushed to hug her mother and provide her comfort. Cid for his part was just glad that he could find his sword and sheathe it.
Miria pleaded, "Please don't tell anyone about this. It pains me enough."
But how do we keep such things under control in the future? How can I keep you from letting your illness run amok? How do we keep your secret safe and also the family secure?
They were questions Cid did not have an answer for, but already he felt a desperate need to answer them as soon as possible. Whatever else happened, he had made up his mind that Miria's illness had to be combated. Unfortunately, it was no sure thing to find a cure.
Cid touched her on the shoulder, "Miria, are you sure you'll be able to keep this illness under control for the rest of today?"
"You have to understand, it was just a rare relapse," Miria pleaded, "I've only suffered something like that two other times, and they were weeks apart."
Cid was not wholly convinced but knew there would be no predicting a recurrence.
Miria wiped away tears, "You have to understand I am trying to fight this… this illness. I try every day, but it's so hard when you're not around."
Cid kissed her on the forehead as she and Natalie got up, "Then we'll make certain one of us is always around for you."
Miria blinked away the tears, her self-control coming back steadily, "Merci".
Natalie stroked her mother's hair, "Mom, we need your help."
Miria looked at Cid uncertainly, "Help with what?"
God help us, she doesn't even remember me telling her the first time.
Cid took a deep breath, "Brigadier General Soult has seized control of Parliament and is threatening to overthrow the government. The only person with the authority to put an end to this is you. The army will listen to you, so if you say non to this coup it's all over."
Actually I bet Galk could stop it, but I'm not sure he isn't supporting it. He seemed rather happy at the prospect of Raki and Ruud getting knocked out of power.
Miria looked uncertain, "You really think I should?"
God have mercy on her soul, for she knows not what she says.
Miria pulled out of Natalie's embrace and looked towards the chamber's entry flap.
Cid interrupted, "Miria, there are good people whose lives are at stake."
Miria looked unhappy, "Why should I help Raki? He spent the last few weeks defaming me in public speeches, alleging I was plotting to overturn the government, backing up the insults of his wife. Why should I help him?"
It looks like I badly underestimated just how insulted she was by Raki and Claire.
Cid countered, "What better way to disprove him than by stopping a coup?"
Miria hesitated; making it clear to Cid it was down to a battle between her dignity being insulted and doing the right thing. He decided not to let her waver.
Father Above; please forgive what I must say. It was done for the sake of your People.
Cid made a white lie, "Raki and Claire apologized about it."
Miria frowned, "It? You mean they apologized about it all, including the time Claire dared lay a hand on my daughter?"
She's sounding more and more like herself by the second.
Cid lied, "God's judgment, I heard it from their lips this very morning. They take back everything and Raki's even promised to pay back the damages for Natalie's dress."
Natalie took an inopportune time to interrupt, "They did?"
There are some days when I wish Miria would teach her when to shut up.
Cid urged Miria on, "Dear, I know you, and I know you would never condone such a heinous act as an illegal coup. Aren't you going to help us?"
A shout of defiance was all the warning Alevtina had that the stalemate between Sergei and Wenceslaus was about to get more interesting. A Silver Guard had somehow managed to surprise attack and had flung himself blade first straight towards Sergei's head. Sergei's right arm, now made up of tentacles covered in suction cups and spikes, reacted with lightning speed. Tentacles rushed out to hit the warrior from the side.
The Silver Guard was deflected to one side and landed by smashing into one of the great granite columns of the open-sided temple. Wenceslaus was knocked back by a pair of tentacles, although he managed to cut through one of them upon getting up. Sergei retracted the remainder and re-grew the other as they stood facing each other. The Silver Guard contingent meanwhile had formed a cordon of their remaining conscious members around the temple. They were held at bay by four of Sergei's Awakened comrades.
Sergei turned his attention to the Cesarzowa, who was grasped tightly by three tentacles around her body.
"You know, I'm not sure I should kill you," Sergei mused. "You'd be so much more entertaining as an enslaved concubine. Then I could enjoy myself forcing you open with my Awakened cock. Let me tell you, that's a sight to see, both in size and appearance."
Katarzyna was defiant, "I'll die before I let that happen, you sick bastard."
Sergei laughed, "Oh please, bastard is such a harsh word. I prefer to think of myself as smarter than anyone else here. I've got you in my grasp, and if Duke Wenceslaus makes so much as a step in my direction, the woman who he'd need to rule will be dead. I can't say I'm impressed with the supposed brilliance of 'legendary' Katarzyna Romanowa."
Wenceslaus, who was stuck a little ways away, shot back, "You can't win, Sergei. Even if I die here today, you will never be accepted as a ruler of humanity."
Sergei rapped his armor with his un-awakened hand, "That's what the old High Command once thought about people accepting silver-eyed slayers as leaders. You'll recall your Cesarzowa and her pals put them two meters under."
"It's not happening," Wenceslaus insisted.
The yoki pressure was building up steadily as the two measured each other up. Wenceslaus was clearly looking for an opening that would allow him to save the Cesarzowa, and Sergei was clearly looking for a way to catch Wenceslaus off-guard.
Alevtina, just off to one side and out of the way of the combat, was finding it hard to breath as the yoki pressure mounted, her breath growing shorter with each passing minute.
Sergei turned his attention back to Wenceslaus, "This is getting boring. How about we just cut to the chase? It'll be you and your pathetic single sword against my endless amounts of Awakened abilities and regeneration."
Wenceslaus readied in his combat stance, sword high and behind his head. Sergei merely smirked and at once his body began to grow all over. It began pressing up against his armor, and then he let out a primal scream.
Sergei's awakening had stopped abruptly, and he was still looking quite human apart from one arm. The only difference now was his nose was bleeding.
Katarzyna smirked, "You can't break duratium armor, Sergei. I had your usual armor replaced just in case you did anything stupid at our meeting."
"You'll pay for this," Sergei screamed, smashing her repeatedly against the stones of the temple's floor. These impacts however were padded by his tentacles. Soon enough one of the tentacles let go and one of Katarzyna's arms came loose. Sergei tried to unfasten the armor, but Wenceslaus charged at the opportunity.
Sergei did not miss this, and with relish awakened his other arm. Wenceslaus was forced to hack through three tentacles from the arm holding the Cesarzowa, and when the huge mass of the other arm hit him he was sent flying. Wenceslaus landed awkwardly on his head and was sliding backwards still when Sergei aimed his follow-up attack. Alevtina leapt into action and swung her sword to intercept these tentacles. It did the trick, but barely, her sword knocking the tentacles down and forcing them to impact the temple floor prematurely.
Wenceslaus scrambled to his feet, but he was much too far away to be of help to her.
Sergei turned towards her and thundered, "You'll pay for that, little bitch!"
The Cesarzowa interrupted, "Rather unlikely."
Alevtina glanced over to where the Cesarzowa was stuck in Sergei's tentacles, as did Sergei. Katarzyna's free arm held a small object, which she pointed at her captor. Sergei had barely turned to face her when a loud bang rang out.
Sergei's brains spattered all over the temple floor. He fell to the temple floor with a hole in his forehead, dead. Alevtina in shock noticed the Cesarzowa was holding a small pistol in her hand as she removed herself from Sergei's dead grip. The Cesarzowa picked up a nearby sword as the remaining four Awakened went back-to-back. The remaining Silver Guards rushed to the Cesarzowa's side and around the Sergei's Awakened supporters. The magnitude of what had just happened was still difficult for Alevtina to comprehend.
Wenceslaus was blinking in surprise; he evidently had expected to be the one to finish Sergei. Instead the greatest Awakened in the world had seen his life cut short by a single bullet. Sergei had been the ultimate believer in Yoma energy over modern weapons, and the Cesarzowa had just used a firearm to blow his brains out. A more fitting end for him was hard to imagine.
Katarzyna addressed the remaining Awakened, "Sergei's coup has failed, not that it would have succeeded even had I died. My heirs include not just my family but the Minister of War, Antoni Poniatowski. Did you seriously think three elite warriors and a few hundred Awakened would be enough to win a war against the entire army, ten thousand slayers and a capable general? You must be the most brilliant fools I've ever encountered."
The Awakened bunched themselves together just outside the temple, four dozen Silver Guards readying to kill them at the Cesarzowa's whim.
The Cesarzowa continued talking in a chilling tone, "The moment I was in your grasp I should have died. Sergei wasted that moment, which is why he would never have made a good Cesarz. You want to know why the Grand Alliance fears me? When my enemies are in my power, I never fail to destroy them. Silver Guard!"
Every Silver Guard charged the remaining Awakened at this command.
Cid did not particularly enjoy jogging around Rabona at night, as the cobblestones were often spattered with horse shit, the contents of chamber pots, and more than a few criminals were out waiting to ambush the unwary. Luckily he could do something about the latter with his sword, but it did nothing to ease his disgust with the squelching noises his boots sometimes made. Cid looked down to find his right boot smack dab in the center of a partly flattened horse turd, so he picked up his leg and gave boot a vigorous kicking.
"Just fucking wonderful," he cursed.
Miria had promised there was little chance of her relapsing so soon, something which he knew she could not promise. It made him nervous now, trusting Miria's sanity to hold out while he was elsewhere. His only consolation was that Natalie was nearby, but even that made him worry. Miria had after all nearly killed the two of them in a deranged state.
Cid shook off as much shit as he could and rushed onwards. He was on a mission to save the Lautrec twins from the clutches of Soult's men. It ought to be easy enough he reasoned to do on his own. When he arrived at the three-story residence Cid began second-guessing his prior instincts. Some six armored men were standing in front of the front door. Cid felt a little out of place wearing his riding clothes and sword in contrast.
The nearest soldier spotted him approaching due to the light of their burning torch.
The soldier barked, "Halt! No one is allowed into this home except by the explicit order of Brigadier General Soult."
Cid gave Miria's order to the taller man, "I'm Comte Cid de Malaga, and I'm here on behalf of my wife. Those are her orders. You are to release the children and whomever else you're holding with them immediately."
The soldier snapped, "You're lying! You're not really the Comte de Malaga!"
Cid blinked in surprise; no one had ever accused him of being someone else.
The soldier continued, "If you were the real Comte Cid on behalf of your wife you would be accompanied by her soldiers!"
Why the hell did I promise to go do this rescue on my own? I swear there are days when my old cockiness comes back and gets the better of me.
Cid sighed, "You'll be written up for insubordination and a court-martial if you don't stand aside Captain…"
The man ripped the order in half, "It's Captain Beauchamp. I don't believe a word of what you're saying. Brigadier General Soult said the General was backing us, and you show up alone saying otherwise with nought but a fake order? Arrest the little man!"
One of the soldiers tried to grab Cid, but Cid drew his short sword, deflected the man's first attack, and hit him in the side of the helmet with the flat of his blade. The soldier went down unconscious at Cid's side. Cid drew himself into a combat stance to face the soldiers.
Cid scowled, "Little? Why I was once the Champion Duelist of Rabona. I think it's high time you treated me with more respect."
Captain Beauchamp glowered as motioned to his men, "Kill the southern bastard!"
Four men advanced on him at once, forming a semi-circle about him while the statuesque Captain Beauchamp watched in the background.
The man off Cid's right shoulder tried to stab at him first. Cid deflected his blow with the short sword and then grabbed him by his sword arm. He flung the larger man over his shoulder as a shield. The three other men who were rushing into to attack frantically pulled their blows at the last possible second. Cid took advantage of their hesitance once the man he'd thrown had landed and flung himself over the grounded soldier.
He somersaulted upon landing and turned to face the nearest soldier. The man flung himself at Cid, so Cid deflected his first attack and let him go flying by. Cid grabbed his cloak just as another soldier rushed up to swipe at his head. Cid pulled the soldier's cloak back while simultaneously ducking under an attacking blade. This connected with the armored head of the soldier whose cloak Cid had yanked back, crumpling him.
In turn Cid attacked the perpetrator of this act and found his first blow parried. Cid instead aimed the next blow at the back of the man's leg. He fell onto his knees after Cid's sword found its mark. Cid parried the attack of the last soldier and then spun to knock out his wounded comrade with a mighty swing of the flat of his blade. The man fell groaning in pain.
This final attacker was more nuanced and practiced, so Cid gripped his sword with a leather glove mid-way along its blade. The other hand held the grip firmly.
Cid's opponent scoffed, "What's the use in that? You can't penetrate plate armor with a short sword!"
The man attacked down a down-stroke, which Cid parried downwards. Cid then used his new grip on the sword and swung it overhead like an axe. The hilt smashed into the man's helmet with brutal force. The soldier staggered under the blow but was still standing, so Cid followed it up with another blow just like it. He was knocked onto his belly and writhed in pain at Cid's feet. Captain Beauchamp drew his broadsword this time.
"Bunch of damn incompetent swordsmen," Beauchamp spat.
The two of them faced off surrounded by the five armored soldiers Cid had finished. Beauchamp however was in another realm in terms of his combat composure in Cid's eyes and was significantly larger than his subordinates. He was also wielding a far larger broadsword.
Beauchamp carefully approached him and with a might swing knocked Cid back when he parried. Cid found his counterattack expertly deflected, and narrowly dodged Beauchamp's counter by jumping just out of sword range.
Beauchamp chuckled, "Your only chance of surviving this is running away, little man."
Cid and Beauchamp circled, each looking for an opening.
Cid replied serenely, "The Champion of Rabona does not run."
This time Beauchamp slammed down a vicious down-stroke upon his blade, which the short sword could not withstand. It wobbled wildly at the impact, and then to Cid's great dismay its blade fractured in half. Cid was left with half a blade against the massive captain, who was readying for the next blow.
Beauchamp goaded, "What do you say to your impending death, little man?"
Cid replied, "Not tonight."
The Parliament was no longer in an uproar, as far as Raki could tell, but its nearly silent members had refused to leave its main meeting chamber. This was just as well, for Claire, in shock, had fallen while pregnant at the twins being taken hostage by Soult's men. As he checked underneath her dress Raki sighed in relief.
"She didn't miscarry," he told the forty-strong party of his backers on the risers behind him. "Just remain calm and I'm sure somebody will sort out this mess."
Brigadier General Soult's men snapped at him, "No talking, heretic!"
Soult for his part was pacing near the Speaker's chair, which was the nearest thing to a centerpiece of the rectangular Parliament chamber. On three sides there were green risers and desks before them, giving the chamber a u-shaped, bowl-like appearance. At the far end was the Speaker's grand mahogany chair, which was on a raised platform.
Soult motioned to Raki's caucus, "I want the filthy heretics out of the Parliament, and the appeasers as well. Only true Orthodox men are fit to serve in this body."
It was only too evident Soult meant to eject Ruud van Willems' supporters along with Raki's. There was only one slight problem with this plan to leave a 'rump parliament'.
Gaspar Galacon thundered, "I am not taking orders from a man who is my younger brother's subordinate! We're not serving at your discretion to be discarded like toys, Brigadier General. My caucus is made up of only true Orthodox men of character, and they answer to me and their constituents, not to you and your little pack of army boys!"
Soult, in full armor, glared at the bearded Gaspar, who strongly resembled his younger brother Francois "Galk" Galacon.
Soult snapped, "I'll not sit here taking insults from a corrupt politician, no matter who he claims to represent. Get him out of here!"
Raki noticed that for once his soldiers hesitated.
About damn time the other side started in-fighting. With luck his men will turn on him.
Gaspar's supporters tried to keep him safe, but Soult's men pushed them aside, grabbed Gaspar, and just like Ruud van Willems had, forced Gaspar out of the chamber.
Soult sat down in the Speaker's chair, "The Army's first act will be to reinstate law and order in accordance with the law. All men judged of good character will be…"
Soult trailed off when a younger officer rushed up to the great chair and whispered.
Soult looked surprised, "They're here already?"
The younger officer nodded, "Yes sir."
Soult stood up and looked towards the entrance, where a moment later General Miria Malaga emerged in full armor with several officers and armed soldiers.
I will tear her head off if she's behind the twins being taken hostage.
The Parliament fell silent as she entered and looked around.
Soult rushed up to confess, "General Malaga, we weren't expecting you so soon."
That's it, it's over. She's behind it all.
Raki felt like crying as he watched but didn't.
"I am rarely not early," Miria replied. "Why have you detained the Parliament?"
The shock of Parliament at these words was immediately apparent, for formerly dispirited members heads perked up and a fierce bout of whispering broke out.
Soult reasoned, "They were a clear and present danger to the army. The heretics amongst them were threatening to appeal to the traitor Angevins and endanger the people. I had to act."
Miria's face was unreadable as she listened.
"I need to address the members," Miria declared. "First of all, I want your men in the gallery gone. Major General Galacon, remove those men so I can talk."
Miria motioned up to the gallery overlooking the main chamber two stories up. The two hundred crossbowmen there were being motioned out by Galk and several other officers on both sides. Soult immediately tensed up.
Soult objected, "Those are my men, and they will stay where they are until—"
Miria lit into him, "Is that insubordination, Brigadier General?"
Soult didn't help himself, "General, my men are here to—"
"Take him out of the chamber," Miria snapped.
Soult's defiance almost continued until an armored Renée and Natalie walk up to him. In the end he left quietly, and his men in the galleries filed out as well.
Miria turned to a nearby male officer, "Major Janssen, you are to escort Soult's men back to their barracks. Those who cooperate will be pardoned."
For the first time Raki's heart leapt as hope returned.
Soult's men all filed out under the General's watchful gaze, and when the last of them had left the Parliament erupted in cheers.
Miria took her seat in the Speaker's Chair, "Gentlemen of the Parliament, soldiers of the Army, I wish to condemn in the strongest language possible this illegal seizure of power. It was not authorized by me, nor will I endorse it. Soldiers of the Royal Toulousaine Army are not here to rule but to defend the country from all threats, external and domestic. I pledge to you that in the future we will keep to our roles as protectors of the government, not its rulers. Accordingly, Brigadier General Soult is being escorted at this very moment to prison."
The whole Parliament erupted in loud cheers of "Vive le general Miria!"
Members of Parliament rushed over to congratulate and thank the General. Claire startled Raki by sitting alongside him silently.
"Gods, Claire, you surprised me," Raki gasped.
Claire pursed her lips, a guilty look upon her face, "I told everyone she was planning to take over and now look. Helen and the rest of them are going to remind me of this day for the rest of my years."
Raki sighed, "Just be glad we were both wrong."
A thought struck Claire, "Oh Gods, where are the twins?"
Raki tried to rush through the packed floor to the General to ask. New fears coursed through him as he tried to reach Miria. By the time he reached the Speaker's Chair, Miria had already left the chamber and was on her way out of the building. Raki rushed after her.
"General, wait, there's something I have to ask!"
Mira and her daughter Natalie stopped and turned to see him.
Raki clasped his hands and pleaded, "My twins, they were taken hostage by Soult's men! You have to send someone out to save them otherwise—"
Cid interjected, "Don't worry, Raki, I've got them right here."
Raki felt tears stream down his cheeks when he saw Cid carrying one twin in each arm towards them. They reached out and beamed when they saw their papa. Cid set them down and they rushed over and into his arms. Claire was soon with them, and Victor like always jumped off, and then ran over into his mom's welcoming arms.
Miria gasped at Cid disheveled appearance and bloody nose, "Oh my God, Cid, what the hell happened?"
Cid smiled, "There was some resistance. Nothing I couldn't handle though."
Raki set down little Teresa and embraced Cid with a bear hug full of gratitude.
"I'm sorry we ever doubted the character of your family," Raki apologized after they embraced. "But I mean to make amends for that starting today."
Raki saw Gaspar Galacon and Ruud van Willems walk by, both of them nodding in gratitude towards Miria.
Distantly Raki heard the gravelly voice of the Parliament's elderly Speaker, "Order, the Parliament is now called back to order."
Miria smiled, if only barely, "I appreciate that. Perhaps we can make amends with an evening or a—"
"I think I know something you deserve far more," Raki replied before walking towards the Parliament chamber.
Cid tried to hold him back, "Wait, I'm not sure you should do anything considering what just happened."
Raki shrugged this off, "On the contrary, my dear friend now is the best time to properly recognize what you've just done for my family."
Raki walked into the boisterous chamber just as Ruud van Willems began to speak.
Raki walked back to his caucus as Ruud declared, "Given recent events, Monsieur Speaker, I feel it is best we are given a day off to recover from the ordeal. I motion to adjourn the Parliament for the day and return tomorrow."
The elderly Speaker looked around, "Is there a second to the motion?"
Raki yelled out, "I object!"
Everyone looked towards him, but Raki felt no pressure from the hundreds of eyes. Instead he felt a serene calm knowing what must be done for the country's future.
Raki stood up at his podium and declared, "Monsieur Speaker, I must object. Now is not the time to disperse. We all know the dangers our country faces going forward, and I believe there is no better time to decide them than in the spirit of unity and elation we have now."
Ruud van Willems looked peeved at his motion being undermined but stood silent.
Raki put both hands on his podium and looked his fellow members in the eyes, "The best time to chart our future, Monsieur Speaker, is right now, when we realize the true gravity of the situation following what just happened. Monsieur Speaker, fellow members, I propose that this body nullify all rights of the Angevins to the throne."
There was some confused clapping, and out of the corner of his eye Raki saw Cid near the Parliament's entrance with a worried look upon his face.
The Speaker conveniently forgot Ruud van Willems' pending motion, "All in favor of nullifying all rights of the Angevins and their heirs to the throne?"
The vote was thunderous and unanimously in favor.
"All present voting yes, the motion is carried by unanimous acclaim," the Speaker declared. "Are there any other motions members would like to make?"
Ruud once again tried to say something but Raki spoke first, "Monsieur Speaker, I would like to make a second motion. It should be apparent to everyone that our lives and the power of this body were preserved by the selfless actions of our top officer, General Malaga. Ordinarily I would ask you all to vote the General the highest medal possible for her gallant protection of democracy and the state. But that, my friends, is too small a gratitude for what she's done here today. We cannot thank her or her husband enough with either words or medals for restoring this Parliament to its rights, nor can I for her husband's saving of my children."
Gaspar and Ruud van Willems looked as if they'd die of jealousy.
Raki raised his hand and declared, "Monsieur Speaker, there is only one person whom this body trusts completely, and that is Countess Miria Victoire de Beauharnais Malaga. The throne sits empty, and I believe that no one would fill it better than the Countess. I motion to elevate Countess Malaga to Queen of Toulouse."
Raki was perplexed when he saw Cid's brows furrowed but paid it no mind, as a huge roar of approval rang out throughout the Parliament. It was so loud that when Gaspar Galacon and Ruud van Willems fell over themselves to second the motion, the Speaker did not hear them for a good half minute.
The elderly Speaker spoke loudly for once, "All in favor of the Countess being granted the throne and to her descendants and heirs in perpetuity?"
The thundering acclaim was universal and deafening.
Raki could barely hear the Speaker pronounce it passed, "Then I hereby pronounce Comtesse Miria Malaga as Reine Miria, Reine de Toulouse!"
Natalie brought out Miria to see and hear the thundering ovation, and the cheers grew yet louder and more delirious.
Raki shouted over the din, "Monsieur Speaker, I have only one thing to say before we adjourn: God Save the Queen!"
The whole Parliament picked up the line and chanted it over and over and ever louder.
Miria's eyes welled with tears of gratitude as she raised a hand to acknowledge the acclaim. Natalie was simply beaming and Claire and the twins were vigorously clapping from up in the gallery alongside Galk. Raki promised himself he would never forget this moment.