May 1070
Our trip south was actually fairly slow and leisurely on account of messengers going back and forth and back and forth, so what should've been about a three day trip at best dragged on to almost two weeks worth of marching back and forth. Count Robert the Elder met with Count Robert the Younger – or Curthose, William's eldest son, though he didn't like anyone calling him that – who apparently maintained that he was still Count of Maine even though he'd been kicked out. Then there was the meeting with André de Vitré, Robert the Elder's son-in-law – who didn't look that much younger than Robert himself, five to six years at the most by my guess. And who besides me could forget all the messages to one Hugh V of Maine – not to be confused with apparently a few other Hugh Vs running around France.
The entire experience just reinforced my desire to stay out of politics.
Anyway, after a lot of finagling that would probably be interesting to some historians but that I studiously refuse to record, there was a general agreement to meet at the small town slash large village of Ernée, which was a little into the borders of Maine, about a day's walk from Mortain and less so from Brittany, where André hailed from.
Now to further disappoint historians. I'm sure my journals would be of great use to the exactly zero archaeologists and historians that might eventually get their hands on them, or copies of them, but to be frank the bulk of this meeting really didn't matter to me. It was a whole bunch of important sounding and looking people talking back and forth about whether the Count of Maine should be Robert the Younger, a nineteen year old boy – and I use the term deliberately – with clear anger and possessiveness issues, or Hugh V, who was, well, to put it charitably and Frenchly, a clear imbecile. It was obvious why his barons and the mayor of Le Mans preferred to talk for themselves while only weakly defending Hugh.
As a result, I'm going to focus not on the mind-numbingly boring political back-and-forth I barely remember as I'm writing this, but instead the parts that are important to me and that I do remember: namely, everything to do with Gauthier.
The first sign I had that he was present was when we were riding into Ernée. There were a series of flags flying above the town, most a variant on the gold fleur-de-lis on blue background that was the French standard. I was next to Tim as we approached, and once we caught sight of the flags he let out a long sigh.
"Bad news?" I asked.
"Do you see that flag off to the side?" Tim asked. "The one that mixes the King of France's standard with white lilies?"
"Yeah."
"Father loves to put white lilies on everything. That's almost certainly his flag," he explained.
"What do you think he's doing here?" I asked. "Officially."
"Officially, likely overseeing the dispute between vassals of King Philip," he said. "May even be his main reason. But once he finds out about me and Lucille, if he doesn't already, he'll most likely want to talk with us."
Robert the Elder had brought a reduced court entourage with him, leaving behind most of the ladies and some of the lords. Lucille had come by virtue of being his mistress, and so she couldn't be left behind without extreme awkwardness, and Elfleda had come along through association with me and some slight cajoling from Lucille. Neither were going to be present at the "negotiations" with Hugh though.
Though part of me would've preferred skipping the whole "negotiations" phase entirely, it was an opportunity to get a look at the Constable. Also, Robert dragged me along to stand around and "look impressive." Tim got brought as a trusted bodyguard. I'm not sure which of us wanted to be there less.
Gauthier stood out, so much so that I spotted him within a second of entering the pavilion where all the talking was to happen. It wasn't hard. The man was a few hairs shy of six feet, with roguish black hair and almost artful scars framing the features of his forty-something face. It made me wonder as to how vampires aged, actually; Thomas had looked to be in his early thirties when we met and stayed that way, and Lord Raith hadn't looked that much older, while Lara and her sisters had all looked younger, if not by that much. Was it a matter of choice and style, a subconscious belief as to what looked "attractive"? I really hoped it wasn't an indicator of genuine age.
Gauthier wore a blue doublet over blue pants, the clothes easily the finest of anyone present. The only spot of white was a pair of white lilies, one pinned to either breast. He wore a sword at one hip, about three and a half feet long, contained within an ornate blue scabbard embellished with golden fleur-de-lis' descending in a column from hilt to point. He was a little slimmer than Tim, not quite as muscled, and he had the eyes of a lazy and disinterested cat, observing everyone with mild amusement. They only seemed to brighten once he spotted Tim. Then they landed on me and my staff, and his gaze sharpened.
We didn't talk at all for the first period of negotiations, which stretched on for hours and only broke at noon for lunch. Then, as people started vaguely mingling, Gauthier parted the crowd like it was a field of wheat, moving towards Tim, and me.
"Timothée, my son. You look well," Gauthier said, patting Tim on the shoulder. His voice was deep and smooth, vaguely reminiscent of Lord Raith's. "England has been kind to you, I hope?"
"It has," Tim replied.
"Good, good. And who is your… companion?" Gauthier asked, glancing up at me.
"Harry Dresden," Tim said. "Advisor to Count Robert."
"Which one," Gauthier said rhetorically, his tone amused. He then turned to look at me fully, eyes slightly narrowed. "Here to oversee the honesty of this meeting, like the good Seigneur de Vitré?"
"You could say that," I said, focusing on Gauthier's nose. "Do you have any particular interest here I need to worry about?"
"I'm here for the same reason you are, sir Dresden," he said.
"Still not a knight," I muttered. Then, more loudly, I said, "I think you're more right than you know."
Gauthier's eyes narrowed further, and he looked towards Tim questioningly.
"Now's not the best time to talk, Father," Tim said. "And Lucille doesn't want to see you at all."
"A shame. But Lucy is here, isn't she?" Gauthier asked.
"She's around," Tim said warily. "In the count's entourage."
"Good, good."
"Constable Renouth," I said, deciding to give formality a try. Everything about him was giving me serious creeper vibes, but part of that was just his vampyness. I wasn't feeling confident that he'd agree to back off later, but I also didn't see any benefit in pissing him off right away.
"Yes, sir Dresden?" he asked.
I sighed and decided to just ignore the "sir." "I think delaying any personal business until everyone's stopped talking about Maine is a good idea. What about you?"
"I don't see how your personal business and mine intersect," he replied.
"Timothy here's a friendly acquaintance. He's had my back on one occasion, just seems fair to return the favor," I said.
Gauthier looked over at Tim, who shrugged and nodded. "As I said, Father. Now's not the best time."
"I see," he said quietly, and the air got slightly colder – and not from me, my aura was currently producing a light simmer. It made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. The last time that kind of abrupt temperature change happened around a vampire, Lord Raith had just gotten out of a limousine. If Gauthier was anywhere close to him in strength, then I was damn glad I'd packed Amoracchius.
"How long do you think these talks with take?" I asked. "A few days?"
"No more than three, I think," he stated. His tone suggested that it would be three, one way or another.
"Then I guess we all have something to look forward to," I said.
The next few days were tense all around. I had no clue how many vampires or thralls Gauthier had brought with him, though Elfleda spotted one succubus slinking around. I had a private tent all to myself, and I spent much of the first evening brewing a quartet of escape potions, using up all the supplies I'd brought along.
Tim was the most relaxed of the four of us, which wasn't actually saying that much. Lucille, meanwhile, stuck closely to the knights and-or milite she still slept with and may have fed off of. I wasn't sure of the latter, and glancing at them with my Sight revealed no real damage or influence. If she was manipulating them, it was in the typical way, not the supernatural.
Though I guess her appearance could be considered supernatural influence in and of itself, if I wanted to get really precise.
And then there was Elfleda.
"I really don't think it's a good idea for you to come along," I said.
"Would I be safer alone?" she asked. "You've made it plain you expect talks to break down."
"The White Court aren't the type to attack head on," I said. "If things go bad, Gauthier is probably going to smile, wave, walk off, and think about how to stab me in the back later. He'll come at me indirectly."
"Like through me?" she asked. "If I were to stay behind, undefended?"
"I don't have a good way to disguise you," I said. "I actually suck at glamours and veils."
"Then what was the doll?"
"That was me projecting an image of myself over an active link," I said. "That's a lot simpler than a glamour. The closest I can manage is to try and attach a hologram to you."
"A hologram?" she asked.
"A construct of light made to look like a particular thing or person," I explained.
Elfleda frowned. "What is the difference between that and a glamour?"
"I… ugh," I sighed. "Look. Sure, technically, between the blending potion and a hologram, and if you don't talk much, I can probably keep Gauthier and anyone else there from directly identifying you. But Lucille and Tim will figure it out, and besides that…"
"Besides that what?" she asked.
"The last time I went into a meeting with vampires with my… a woman I was close to, she died," I said, paraphrasing heavily.
Susan hadn't actually died until much, much later, and I'd technically had more meetings with vampires alongside Murphy and Luccio and Molly, but Bianca's party… it stood out in my mind. Like a shadow looming over everything.
Elfleda stared at me intently for a few seconds, then pursed her lips and nodded. "Very well. I will not come with you."
"Good," I said. "Now, you should be fine. But keep the potions on you. That way if something happens, if you're attacked, you can bring up the barrier, drink the escape potion, and then down the blending potion once you're clear. Don't do it the other way around; potions can mix strangely if you drink a second one while the first is still in your system."
"Won't the barrier block my escape?" she asked.
"It's not designed to stop air. Otherwise you'd suffocate," I said. "Which would rather go against the whole 'protective barrier' part."
"That is true," she allowed.
In the end, no agreement was reached, to the surprise of essentially no one. The people in charge of Maine weren't about to submit to Robert the Younger again just a year after kicking him out, and while they didn't really like Hugh, their attitude towards him can be summed up in one sentence:
"He may be an imbecile, but he's our imbecile."
Not that anyone actually said that, though other insults were thrown around, like Curthose. By noon on the third day no one was even trying anymore, and people started packing up to leave. Or in my case, to meet a vampire.
There was a small forest just to the south of Ernée, which contained two small ponds. Gauthier and I had agreed to meet between the two, just off to the side of the small dirt road that wound its way through the trees. It was supposed to be me, Tim, and Lucille as one party, and Gauthier and two others as the other party. Supposed to be; I wouldn't have been all that surprised if he had more people hiding nearby.
I went back to my tent first to grab everything I needed. By the time I emerged, Tim and Lucille were already there, waiting for me. Both looked at me strangely as I walked out.
"What is that in your hand?" Lucille asked, gesturing towards my left. My right was holding my staff.
I held up the item in question and peered at it. "It appears… to be a sandwich." A sandwich with cheese, lettuce, onions, and some rough, thin slices of beef to be precise.
"A wha… are you taking this seriously?!" Lucille demanded.
"Very," I said.
Tim, meanwhile, noticed something else off about my ensemble. "That's not your usual sword," he remarked. "It's bigger, and the hilt's different."
"Yup, it's not Snickers," I said.
"…Snickers?" Tim asked hesitantly.
"Well I've got two swords, so I need to differentiate them somehow. So, I named one Snickers," I said.
Tim and Lucille both looked a little more hesitant at coming along with me. Cowards.
Now, on Snickers: my Warden sword needed a simpler name, yes. But no silly old name would do, no. It needed to be something meaningful. And as with Shadowfax, I went for a fictional reference, a weapon to fight monsters with. But only a crazy person would go three layers deep with a literary reference, when even the first layer was utterly incomprehensible to anyone without the proper Alician context. It would've been the height of extraneously gratuitous self-indulgence, all the more so if it were used in conjunction with another joke for which everyone else had no proper chocolatey context for.
"And what does this one do?" Tim asked a few moments later.
"Makes me confident enough to face your father."
Author's Note: On the one hand, a staff is not quite a gun. In Harry's hand though, I think it qualifies.