"This is for the record.
History is written by the victor.
History is filled with liars."
…
…
"All ships, fire!"
Cannons roared and hissed, and Louise looked down as the sounds of their fire blazed through the sky. She was standing at the front of great ship, its mast proud and tall and its numerous guns firing. It seemed vaguely familiar, though she had no idea why.
She looked down at herself, and saw that her clothing was different. Even though she had not been at the Academy ever since the war began, she had continued to wear the school uniform. But now she was dressed up in a fancy military uniform, a sword at her side and fancy medals on the front of her shirt. Even as high up as she was, she could hear the clashes and noise of a battlefield below, and she heard the sound of screaming and guns firing and all of those terrible things which accompanied war.
All the same, it felt strange. She couldn't remember how she got here, and for the moment she leaned over the ship and looked down. Who was winning and who was losing? She didn't know. Everything seemed to be obscured by black smoke which rose above the battlefield and hid the developments below. There was a red mob and a blue mob below her, but what the two groups were and what they were fighting for was something which she did not know.
But then the noise of fighting stopped. An eerie silence followed, and Louise gazed downwards even harder. Had one of the two sides triumphed? Had she won? But her questions were dispelled in an instant as something compelled her to look up.
There was a ball of light above the ship she was standing on. It felt… wrong. Strange, though she didn't know how. And it began to expand. The light, pure as an angel and yet giving off a terrible foreboding, expanded and consumed the ship she was standing on, and Louise watched as wood and mast alike were somehow devoured by the light. The fellow shipmen screamed as the light consumed them, and Louise tried to back away from it. But it was hopeless. Her legs felt like they were lead, and the light was moving and moving, first devouring the back of the ship and then the middle. As it advanced of what was left of the ship, Louise in her fear and desperation leapt into the sky.
She was now away from the continually expanding light, but now she was falling. Louise desperately scrabbled for something, anything to keep her up as she continued to fall, but there was nothing to stop her from reaching her end on the hard earth. The ship which she had been standing on was destroyed, and pieces of debris flew past her and raced past her to the ground. But she knew that even if they got there first, eventually she would reach the end of her fall and final oblivion. As the ground grew larger and larger over the next few seconds, tears streamed out of her eyes and nose.
And right before she hit the ground, her eyes snapped open.
Louise laid there in a rough bed. She wasn't on a ship. She wasn't being killed by magic – her magic, she realized. After thinking about it, she knew where she was. She was still in Giono's office, and had fallen asleep shortly after he left, safe and secure.
Even as she didn't move, Louise heard the humming of the printers and noticed that her clothes were damp with cold sweat. It was terrifying. What was that, she wondered? What had that dream been?
But she knew. She knew what it was. It was that of someone she had killed, a reminder of the fact that she taken thousands upon thousands of lives on that day. Casting that Explosion at La Rochelle was the right thing to do, she knew it. The lightning strike from Brimir that had destroyed the Lexington had been a sign that he was on Tristan's side. So by fighting for Tristain, she was a good person and one who was on the side of justice.
So why was she dreaming of those whom she had killed? She really didn't know. It was horrifying, yes, but it didn't signify anything. It was just a dream, after all. Talking to anyone about it would just invite trouble and ridicule. Given all that she had accomplished, if she started complaining about some bad dreams, it would be unlikely if anyone actually cared about them. So as horrifying as that had been, Louise decided that it was best not to talk to anyone about it.
Either way, she probably had to return. Henrietta would be waiting for her, and so would Napoleon. The two would likely be angry at her for running away even during this short time during a war period, but it would be alright. She had a better idea of how to talk with her partner, and that was all that mattered.
At last, Louise sat up on her bed, and looked around – and then gave a shriek of horror and surprise. Napoleon was sitting in a chair right next to the bed, his arms folded across him. He appeared to be asleep. His eyes were closed and his hat was on a nearby table, but he was still wearing his military uniform.
Louise blushed slightly at her surprise and the sight of him, but then quietly calmed herself down. Of course Napoleon could get in here. Giono had said that he would inform her partner, and no doubt he was here to talk to her. All the same, when Louise thought about it, it was the first time that she had actually ever seen Napoleon asleep. She really had summoned someone incredible. He was a middle-aged man, but somehow had the energy and boundless youth of someone her age. No doubt it's how he pushed everyone around him, herself included, to greater heights.
So it would be all right just to let him sleep for a bit longer, Louise thought. She slipped off the bed and moved towards outside the window. The light of the morning sun streamed into the room. The fact that Napoleon was asleep at such a time really meant that he must have been busy. After all, there still was Albion to be invaded, and the fact that she had chosen to escape from the Valliere estate meant that she was going to fight. She accepted it, of course. She had done so ever since she had cast Explosion.
Still, it would be all right. He may have been spending more time with the soldiers, but things would be fine. They could just return to as they were. And so for some reason she began to speak, partly to Napoleon, partly to herself, and partly just to no one at all.
"You know, Napoleon, I'm sorry. A long time ago, I asked you if you missed your old world. You never did answer me. Eleanor was the one who pointed out that I don't really know anything about you, and I guess it's true.
But do I want to? I know what Henrietta did at La Rochelle. I know how much she suffers inside from wondering whether she did the right thing. I know we did. There wasn't a better way out of that invasion. If I had just summoned an ordinary human, it likely would have been a lot worse and Tristain may have been defeated, even with Brimir's aid.
And if you ruled the world, you likely did something like that before. You probably did terrible things. You're not a nice man, you know. A nice man wouldn't take a proper noble like me and hurl her onto the battlefield."
She giggled a little to herself at that statement, and listened. She could still hear the regular sounds of his breathing.
"All the same, Napoleon, I've pulled you from your throne, your position of power. So I'll stand by you. It's the least I can do given where I dragged you from. And given how you've helped me, I'll help you. No matter what."
She smiled and turned around. Then her face grew paler and paler in shock. Napoleon was still breathing normally, but both of his eyes were open. And he was looking directly at Louise, clearly awake. Louise stuttered as she saw him.
"W-wwwhhhhaaatt? When did you wake up?"
"Did you really think that first shriek didn't wake me up?"
"Y-you…. Stupid Napoleon! It's not like I-I knew you were awake! You weren't supposed to hear that!"
Napoleon yawned a bit and then rose up from the chair, reaching for his hat.
"I guess I did. Louise, are you feeling alright?"
She hesitated for a bit before responding with a strong nod.
"Yeah!"
"Alright then. We need to get to the palace. Henrietta's holding a final preparation meeting for the invasion of Albion."
It was all he said, but Louise couldn't help but feel her heart drop a little. She had been hoping for a talk of reconciliation, one where they would get to understand one another better. But Napoleon didn't even look at her as he put on his hat and moved towards the door.
But as his hand reached the doorway, he stopped and then turned towards his partner.
"By the way, Louise, I'm sorry as well."
"What?"
"I know I haven't talked as much with you these days. But you're important to me, Louise. I wouldn't be here if not for you, and I actually do thank you for it.
So there's no need for us to worry about anything, no need to talk about who has done what for each other. We are equals, you and I. I, an Emperor who ruled the entire world, acknowledge you as someone of value. Always take pride in that, Louise."
He turned around after finishing those words and looked at his partner. She was just smiling, happy. It was a nice smile, Napoleon couldn't help but observe. Perhaps he would like to see more of it. But for now, there was nothing further to say.
Napoleon moved to open the door to the print shop, and Louise followed him. As the hinges swung, they both saw that Giono was standing outside. He rubbed his hands together and chuckled with delight upon seeing the two come out together.
"It's great to see that the two of you made up, Napoleon! So, what are you going to be doing now? I know you really liked the posters I made when you came here."
"I'll be heading back to the palace, Giono. There's still a war to be fought. You know that as well as anyone."
"Yes, yes, that is true."
The printer now removed his hands from each and idly moved a bald spot while thinking.
"It really is interesting. You know, Napoleon, I have lived a long time. I'll be 59 years in a few months. But I've never actually fought or seen a war. We've had so many years of peace, and then Cromwell and his cronies had to go around and attack us.
But when you get to the palace, would you mind and do an old man a favor, Napoleon?"
Giono's eyes hardened as he asked that question.
"What is it?"
"I have a friend in the palace. He works as a chef, and he hears things from the servants. Somehow, he found out that we're thinking about not invading Albion at all, but rather just blockading them.
Stop it. I want revenge. So do the people of Tristain, all of my friends. If they are going to invade our country, then we need to make them remember what will happen otherwise. La Rochelle burned because of them. Albion will need to pay threefold for making that happen."
There was a silence that followed his words. But before Napoleon could speak up and offer his thoughts on such a request, Louise quietly said something.
"Is that necessarily the right thing to do? Brimir tells us that revenge is bad, and that we shouldn't try to seek it if we are wronged."
"You're my friend's partner, but you're still a noblewoman. You have somewhere to return to, your estate, your castle, Valliere.
Most of us don't. Some of us lost our homes, everything in La Rochelle because Albion wanted to conquer us. So we want to make sure it never happens again, whether to an old man like me or to our children.
Teach Albion a lesson, Napoleon. You've already taught them two by destroying their army and fleet. Now give them one more, one they will never forget."
And with those words, the printer moved forward and shook Napoleon's hands, his eyes burning.
…
Less than two hours later, Napoleon and Louise stood in front of the palace doors. A guard saluted the pair as they entered the grounds and had accompanied them for the rest of the way. He banged on the door three times, and the doors slowly opened.
It was almost the same scene that it had been two days ago. The generals were surrounding a map, talking to one another and making exaggerated gestures. All of them, upon noticing who had entered the room, quickly drew up ranks. They suspiciously stared at the pair as they strode through the room. Even after seeing how Napoleon had humiliated them a few days ago, Louise remained intimidated at seeing so many high-ranking military officers, so she did her very best to hide it.
But there were two changes. Henrietta was no longer lethargically on her throne, but she had been standing next to the map, pointing at various locations. And the Prince of Wales was not in the room, and instead someone else was by the Princess's side. Napoleon tipped his hat to her as he approached the table.
"It's good to see you again, Agnes. How goes the repairs at La Rochelle?"
The captain shook her head upon hearing the question.
"Half of the city was burned down. It will take years for it to be rebuilt, and I don't think it's something I can do. I've just been focused on keeping our people alive, and that has been strenuous enough. I don't know what I'll do when winter hits."
Napoleon bowed his head, but his personal thoughts were interrupted as Henrietta spoke out.
"Napoleon, it's good to see you again. We're nearly finished making all of the preparations for the invasion of Albion, so now we can start the war council."
"Really?"
"Huh?"
The princess looked at Napoleon quizzically while the Emperor moved forward and looked at a map of Albion, Louise following behind him. She formally bowed before the Princess, who gave a small giggle at the gesture. But then Napoleon continued.
"Let me ask you, Princess Henrietta de Tristain. Why are you invading Albion?"
"What?"
The word was said both by the generals and Henrietta, and this time De Poitiers, standing by the edge of the map, once again went into an outburst.
"What's gotten into you, captain? Why are we invading Albion? They attacked us. They caused us to burn down one of our finest cities and pillaged our land and villages. So we'll strike back, and cause Cromwell to pay for his crimes! We are fighting in the name of Brimir after all, the Void and the Miracle at La Rochelle proves it!"
"And what happens after you defeat Albion?"
Those words caused De Poitiers to splutter even harder, but this time Henrietta was the one to respond to Napoleon's question.
"We'll have peace. The Prince of Wales will be back on the throne, and we will go back to an era of peace and good relations between all. Helgekinia will go back to the way things were."
"Is that it?"
"'Is that it?' What could be greater than having peace within Helgekinia again?"
This time, Napoleon did not say anything. He just stared at Henrietta, who found herself unable to properly look at him. It was a long, hard, gaze, like an eagle watching its prey. After some seconds of simply looking at the princess, the Emperor asked another question.
"Where is the Prince of Wales anyways? I would think that in a meeting which was determining his own fate as well as the fate of his country, he should be here."
Henrietta's face turned a bright, bright red to such a degree that Napoleon didn't even know it was possible for a human face to make. She began fidgeting about, and pressed two of her fingers together while clearly refusing to look at anyone in the face.
"The Prince…is…resting."
Napoleon noted that Agnes's eyes were determinedly boring a hole in the ceiling as Henrietta continued her strange motions. After several further seconds of silence, another general cleared his own throat before speaking out in a reedy, whiny voice.
"Anyways, Captain, I believe you have an appropriate answer. We will invade Albion, install the Prince, and then have peace. I believe you find that a satisfactory plan?"
A few more seconds passed, while Henrietta continued to look down at the ground and Napoleon stared straight at her. As the generals wondered what exactly they should do, he finally responded.
"Sure. I think I see that the current situation is adequate. The aftermath of the war will be dealt with later, after all."
De Poitiers gave a laugh which everyone knew was insincere at Napoleon's statement.
"I'm glad to see that, captain! We will all need to work together to keep a permanent peace within this land, one where the four great nations work together! Now, for this invasion, we will be attempting to land approximately 50,000 men in Albion, and then we will proceed to take the capital of Londinium and force Cromwell to step down from power. Given the current state of turmoil within Albion and how badly their army has been devastated, one might think we can relax once we've landed.
To tell the truth, that probably is so. But we still need to make the landing, which means that we will have to overwhelm the defenses at the Albion port of Rosais. It's large enough so that if our ships can overwhelm them, we'll be able to land all the necessary troops."
The rest of the generals clapped as he finished his statement, but Napoleon folded his arms over his chest while wearing an expression of total skepticism.
"Napoleon. Do you find something wrong with the plan?"
Henrietta asked the question. She had calmed down somewhat and had noticed the expression on his face. Giving a deep sigh, Napoleon pointed at the map of Albion.
"Rosais? Are you kidding? Did you just pick the biggest port and declare that's where you needed to land, De Poitiers?"
"What's the matter with it, Captain?"
There was an especial emphasis by the general on the last word, as he clearly was attempting to impress his rank on Napoleon in an effort to silence him. But an Emperor would have none of that.
"It is true that Rosais is the biggest port in Albion. But it's farther away. Albion will definitely have better defenses there. The port of Dartanes is closer and you can get there faster and set up. Making the invasion happen as quickly as possible is much more important than grabbing a giant port which you won't really need anyways."
"Won't need? Do you actually know anything of warfare? How do you think we'll get the supply trains in? Dartanes isn't big enough to accommodate all of the trains needed to feed and arm 50,000 soldiers."
"Supply trains? You don't need that many wagons to carry all of the ammunition, and that's the important thing."
"No, it's not! You need food in the wagons as well! It's the only way to feed the-"
De Poitiers halted mid-sentence and looked at the map. The rest of the generals watched in confusion as he continually looked. His eyes were definitely moving back and forth between the terrain around Dartanes and that of Rosais. Then he spoke, a little more slowly this time.
"You're not proposing we live off the land, are you?"
"Is such a proposal really so shocking to you?"
"It is."
The rest of the generals looked up. That last statement did not come from De Poitiers, but rather from Henrietta. Now she stared directly at Napoleon, who realized that for the first time he had met her, she was truly irritated with him.
"I will not take food from the locals. That is a violation of the proper way to conduct war and is dishonorable. We will be using supply trains and take food from our own country like a proper army. Only a barbarian horde would consider using such a tactic such as pillaging, Napoleon."
"Is taking food from what you call commoners so much worse than burning down a city, Princess?"
This time, even Louise gasped at his words as well as the generals. But Henrietta's resolute expression did not change in the slightest.
"Of course it is. La Rochelle belongs to Tristain, to the crown, to me. Consequently, as painful as it is, I can choose to destroy it if I want, though I will do penance for that decision for every day until I die.
Albion does not. The food from the peasants does not. Consequently, I have no right to take it, even if Tristain is at war. We must remain civilized."
Henrietta finished her statement, and there was an outburst of applause, as everyone present but Napoleon gave their approval to their sovereign. Even Louise did so, though it was a little more tentative and she kept nervously glancing at her partner. Still, Napoleon was alone in his insane idea of not being completely dependent on supply trains.
With those words, the meeting continued. With those words, it was clear that Rosais was to be the place which would be invaded, as Dartanes was too small to accommodate that many men and the supplies which would all be brought from Tristain. So the generals and Napoleon began making their plans for how the defenses would be overcome. But it was noted that Napoleon and De Poitiers, over the course of the debates, seemed to disagree on even the most trivial little issues. Without constant mediation from both Agnes and Henrietta, violence would likely have broken out right there. Still, it remained productive, and Tristain began their final plans.
…
"I'm late I'm late I'm late I'm late!"
Guiche de Gramont panted as he ran down the streets of Tristainia, all the while cursing himself out. He had been supposed to report to the De Vineuil Independent Battalion about five hours ago, but before he had left for Tristania, he had taken a bit too long saying farewell to Montmorency, and thus the two had fallen asleep together. It's not like they had done "that" before he left. It's just that he had wanted to stay with her for a while before he departed, and then the two lightly dozed off as their heads touched each other. He had woken up to great horror, realizing that what was supposed to be a night trip to the city was instead turned into a nap next to his girlfriend. A refreshing nap, definitely, but it wouldn't prevent him from being flayed alive by his superior officer, possibly literally.
But as he ran down the streets, he realized that he hadn't actually been in Tristania for quite some time. The result was that he was right now pretty lost. He had stopped by and asked a commoner for directions to the barracks, but somehow it had made things worse. He couldn't rule out the possibility that the commoner had intentionally given a nobleman wrong directions, but there was no time to think about it.
"Hey! Guiche!"
The nobleman heard someone call out his name, and he quickly looked around. It didn't take long. That shock of pink hair was noticeable from a mile away. Louise was right in front of him, and someone was besides her, an older man in a military uniform. Now that Guiche thought about it, wasn't that the strange familiar she had summoned?
"Hi, Louise. I'm sorry, I'm busy right now. I'm reporting for duty."
"Duty? Are you fighting now?"
"Yeah, I need to head to the barracks. I'm reporting with the De Vineuil Independent Battalion and need to be there right now. I'm sorry, bye!"
He began to run, but then her familiar spoke up with words that stopped him in his tracks.
"The De Vineuil Battalion is not in Tristania right now."
"What?"
Guiche whirled around so fast that combined with forward momentum, he tripped and fell on his butt on the cobblestones. Not exactly the most dignified pose for a nobleman, but that didn't matter. What had Louise's familiar said?
"They just left for La Rochelle about six hours ago. They'll be assisting with the repair efforts. It's all they're good for, anyways. That battalion's just a bunch of old men; this war isn't so urgent that we need to call them up."
Guiche sat there with shock at everything Napoleon said and did not even bother to get up. The Battalion he was assigned to? Gone? Brimir knows he could try to catch up with them, but they would likely be very upset with him being this late and not even present with them on the march. This was a disaster, and was not supposed to represent himself.
Guiche had changed, after all. He knew that. He had been betrayed by a teacher in his own school and had been trapped in a tomb of earth for what seemed like eternity. And then the air had run out. It was horrifying. Even when he tried to forget them, the memories, the sensation of suffocation somehow would emerge on the strangest triggers. But as a result, he had grown more serious. The playboy of the past still existed to some degree, but he was now loyal to Montmorency. It was all he knew.
So his start in his battalion was supposed to represent the beginning of a new life, one where he would at last equal his more brilliant brothers. But he had already failed. What was he to do now?
As he sat there and continued his internal monologue, he realized that Louise's familiar had kneeled down in front of him. That man in the military uniform then began to say something to Guiche.
"Hey, boy. If I remember something from attending my partner's classes, you were an earth mage, right?"
"Y-yeah."
"Tell me then, boy. Why do you fight?"
"What do you mean? I'm fighting for my country, to protect Tristain and the Princess and-"
"You misinterpreted the question, boy."
"Don't call me boy! My name is Guiche de Gramont, third son of the prestigious Gramont family! I am a nobleman, so treat me with the respect you would give one!"
Guiche shouted those words to hide his irritation, both at the man in front of him and at himself for his failures. But Napoleon gave no response to those words.
"I introduced myself in front of you mages those months ago when I was summoned. I am Napoleon Bonaparte, one who ruled the world. Now I will ask again. Do you have no personal reason to fight in this war? You have no desire to seize honor, or glory, or wealth, or power?"
"Well, of course I like those things. But I want to protect my country."
Napoleon nodded for a bit and then stood up, hoisting up Guiche at the same time.
"Tell you what, boy. My company will be formally reinstated soon, but we need an earth mage. How would you like to join?"
"What? Wait, your company? Since you're a familiar, isn't it Louise's company?"
"No."
Guiche appeared to be completely confused, and while Louise opened her mouth, Napoleon continued before she could step in.
"Louise works under the Princess. I work for Henrietta as well, and I have a few soldiers under my command. And I accept only the best, Guiche de Gramont."
There was a slight edge to the tone, something about it which made Guiche realize it was probably best to be quiet, especially since Napoleon had answered his question. So he did, and he slowly rose to his feet.
"So, how am I supposed to prove that I'm the best?"
Napoleon smiled at those words, clearly enthused. The fact that the boy had quickly caught on to what he had stated was a good sign.
"Follow me."
…
Cartier Martin grumbled as he stood in the courtyard.
"Napoleon, what in Brimir's name do you think you're doing?"
The captain of the soon to be Imperial guard sat on a chair, munching an apple. He glanced over at Martin, bothering to open one eye as the sun was shining in his eyes.
"We have a recruit. Guiche de Gramont, third son of the Gramont family. I have an interest in him joining."
Guiche was on the other end of the courtyard, his wand in his hand. Martin looked over at him. The Gramont family was the main ally with the Duke of Walloon, which was the family in which Martin had born in and later expelled from. As a result, he didn't like the Gramont family much more than he liked his own father.
"So what? You want me to kill him?"
Napoleon shook his head and held up a watch.
"I want you to duel him. If you can't beat him within three minutes, I'll put him in the guard."
The rest of the guard was in courtyard, watching the scene. Some were placing bets, which caused Martin to twitch in irritation. If people were betting, it meant that some thought he would fail to beat the kid. Unacceptable.
So the wind mage pulled out his wand, which sparkled with energy, and then pointed it at himself.
"Make it two minutes, Napoleon. Speed!"
In mage duels, there is normally a proper decorum. One announces oneself and his family, talks about the great deeds he's accomplished, and insults the opponent as a way of intimidation. If the opponent does not back down, which generally rarely happens, then the duel begins. In general, they are not fought to the death.
But Martin was already annoyed at being called out to the courtyard for this kid, and he definitely didn't like the idea of a Gramont being a member of the Guards. Besides, he was a soldier. Soldiers don't bother with duels.
So he cast Speed on himself instantly and rushed towards him. He wasn't interested in using the sword hidden on his back. Just the knife would be sufficient. Rocket towards this earth mage before he could react, stab him in the chest. He could go for the throat, but Martin wasn't interested in actually killing the kid.
However, Guiche moved faster than Martin had anticipated. With a flick of his wrist, a metal female warrior rose up from the ground and intercepted the dagger which was in Martin's right hand. While Martin's dagger penetrated the warrior's arm, it was hardly enough to actually harm the metal creature. And its other arm moved to punch Martin. He blocked it with his left arm, but the pain from the impact was severe. Still, it brought him some time.
"Speed!"
He quickly rocketed back, and then cast it on himself one more time to go to the left. This, for Martin's was Speed's biggest problem. He could move at incredibly high speeds, but he could only do so in a straight line. If he wanted to change direction, he had to cast it again, which made it highly inefficient in a prolonged fight.
Still, it wasn't over. Casting Speed on himself for now the fourth time, he shot past the metal warrior and switched the wand to his left hand. Stopping on a dime next to Guiche, he grabbed the invisible sword with his right hand and swung it towards the earth mage.
But Guiche flicked his rose again and another warrior appeared and blocked it. With the second warrior converging on him, Martin jumped back this time without using Speed, dodging the attacks.
"Kid, what level are you at?"
"No need to answer that."
Martin shrugged at Guiche's response, and began thinking. Those warriors, golems, were made of bronze. Still, bronze could block his sword, and given the time limit, he was the one who had to strike back. He needed something stronger, something with a bit more power.
"That's it."
Once again, he cast the same spell, only this time he rocketed away in a completely different direction, away from Guiche and towards the crowd surrounding them. The group of men moved out of Martin's way as fast as he could, but he still knocked some of them aside with his momentum.
"Running away?"
The taunt was made by someone else in the crowd, but they stopped when they saw what Martin was doing. He had grabbed his musket, which was already loaded. Guiche immediately realized what his opponent was doing, and one of the golems moved to protect its master. But one of them was simply too slow, and while Martin had struggled with the weapon in practice, here in a fight he had no trouble at all. His hands and eyes assumed the proper position as if he had used it for years, and he fired the weapon at Guiche.
The bullet punched through the golem like it was made of paper, and while it prevented Martin from seeing and aiming at Guiche, he could hear a scream of pain. Dropping the gun, he cast Speed on himself one more time, once again shooting past the golem. Distracted and shocked by the pain, Guiche never had time to conjure another golem to protect himself before Martin was upon him. A quick knee to the stomach, and the two of them collapsed on the ground. Martin readied his dagger.
"Time!"
Napoleon said those words as he looked at the watch, and after a bit of silence, everyone else hooted and cheered. They rushed forward and picked Guiche in their arms, tossing him aloft out of the amusement and excitement of him surviving their best mage even as blood dripped down from the earth mage's left arm. Even Martin, after shaking his head, gave the boy a pat on the head. Still, as he stood a bit away from the crowd, he didn't move as Napoleon walked up behind him.
"It's your entire fault, you know. I gave it two minutes like you requested. You would have won if there were three."
Martin simply shook his head at those words.
"I guess so. Did you want to teach me not to be overconfident, Captain?"
"Who knows? Besides, Guiche is determined and has an interesting spell that can augment our small numbers. I think he has potential as well. All the same, good job for you Martin. Glad to see you finally figured out that gun."
He clapped Martin on the back one more time, and moved to leave the courtyard. He saw that Louise chose to follow him, and she quickly leapt up and whispered in his ear.
"You know I was also keeping time, Napoleon."
"Oh? So how long was it actually, Louise?"
"One minute and 48 seconds."
Napoleon shrugged his shoulders as he looked at his watch. It was clearly cracked down the middle and its hands had not moved in ages. It was another memento of his world.
"Well, now you have someone else who you're familiar with. I'm sure you'll be alright. You should take him on a morning run."
And as the two left the courtyard chatting with each other, Louise smiled even as she whacked Napoleon in the back. It was good to see that their relation was going back to normal again.