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Chapter 5: Full Marks –What is the Abbey hiding? Find out how Arimas came to be master of a network that rivals the cardinals own.

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Unto Dumas: Pax, Disney and United Artists too

Give credit where credit is due,

I'd be writing something subtly different…

If not for all of you.

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Thanks Nerissa for being my beta!

Chapter 5: Full Marks

It was dusk and the sound of the children playing wafted through the window. Emris set the stack of communiqués aside and leaned on the sill to see what was afoot.

Two blue streaked younglings balanced atop the garden wall mock fencing with twigs. The elder of the two, his Kate Lyn, laughed excitedly as she encouraged the boy.

The other made not a sound, but his 'swordsmanship' was improving. It had taken months for the boy to come out of his shell even that much. Emris would give almost anything to see even a slight smile light those intense eyes….

He frowned. "Is that my indigo Ink you're wearing?" he shouted out the open window.

"We're playing warrior Celt…" Kate-Lyn called up to him bright eyes gleaming

"That not what I asked."

"Yes papa" she admitted, "It's supposed to be woad. Isn't that what Celts call their blue war paint?"

Emris sighed…he was a scholar. How could he fault his child for attention to detail? Still, it was going to be a nightmare to get them cleaned up. "Do you have any idea how difficult…?" He began but stopped when he saw the boy wince. "No of course you don't" He tried to hide his chagrin and sound cheerful. "Come-on up and let me see how bad the damage is."

The two climbed ruefully up the trellis. "W-w-w-e D-didn't mean to…" The boy stammered, "We only meant to use a little." He wistfully held out the half-empty vial. His expression and bearing still silently begged, "Please don't hurt me!"

"I understand lad. Such things do happen." Emris knew better than to raise his voice to the child.

Instead, he carefully explained, "Indigo dye must be prepared from the fresh plant in an exacting and elaborate process that makes it costly to buy. Fortunately, I learned to make it when I was a novice. It takes about a month for the plants to soak and ferment. But I'm sure it won't be as difficult if I've got you two true blue urchins to help me next time."

"Yes, Papa" Kate nodded penitently trying to hold still while he daubed foul smelling solvent on the whirls decorating her cheeks. Still the stain was persistent and she felt rather raw when it faded to an almost respectable hue. As far as she was concerned that scrubbing was punishment enough to forestall further misuse of his dyes.

Little Philippe had blue handprints on his bare chest and endless knot like swirls on his upper arms but he'd been careful not to mark anywhere clothing wouldn't cover.

"It.. It's not… P-permanent Is-is it?" The boy faltered. He had many jailors in his short life; he'd learned the rules that governed his life well.

Leaving marks was permissible so long as they didn't show and wouldn't last. There is to be no scarring of any kind…The only reason the boy had ever heard to justify his frequently harsh treatment was that "He may yet be needed if the OTHER proves… intractable."

Emris knew what direction the boy's thoughts were taking him. "They will fade in time." He assured the anxious boy "Next time you both want to play warrior Celt, tell me and I'll take you into the woods, show you what the real woad plants looks like. We can figure out how to prepare it like real Celts did. I'm sure their paint must wash off easier than this!"

O

Emris sighed, How long had in been since Philippe had come to be in his care? Months? Over-a-year, at least… Two? He doubted it had been quite that long…

The scholar tried to provide so semblance of home for the boy…A place of safety where he could act like any other child…But Philippe was not like other children… This boy…so sweet natured and innocent was, by his very nature, a threat to national security. A prisoner, condemned to obscurity for no greater crime than his appearance and the circumstance of his birth.

Emris slipped back into memory, recalling how the child had come to be his responsibility in the first place. Richelieu was long dead, and Emris believed himself free of that evil man's influence. Louie XIII had not been as lucky and followed his powerful advisor to the grave. But The affairs of the capital were far from Emris's mind. He had been free living in berry with his daughter... with little thought to his previous adventures as a musketeer...or his of torment as sleeper agent of the cardinal. What was Past is past...

Then the CALL had come.

Icy fear gripping his chest…he lurched out of bed. "Nightmare" he gasped, rubbing the pain in his heart … "Nothing more than a… Ahhhh!" the pain spiked again, dropping him to his knees, and leaving him trembling on the rug of his room.

It took every ounce of strength to force his legs to carry him through the sleeping streets of Berry. Normally, the fact that the Chosen lived at the extreme opposite end of the town made Emris feel safer; But, in his present condition, the dusty road seemed offensively long.

His vision grayed out again, the sound of his fist hammering his against Chosen's door seemed hollow, and it echoed uncomfortably in his ears. Emris fought to focus letting his anger energize him. He pounded harder on the smooth wood and shouted, "Get out here you demon!"

When the dark Cavalier arrived on the porch, tying the black silk robe about his waist, Emris demanded, "What are you doing to me!" his voice sounding half strangled.

"Nothing." Chosen answered descending the stair just in time to catch the man's arms before he collapsed again.

The scholars breath came in great gasps and his face was pale as death. Emris trembled. Chosen deftly used his teeth to pull off the one of the black leather gauntlets that protected his unnaturally sensitive fingers. Next, he cupped his cool palm to Emris's fevered cheek then measured the gentle throbbing of his pulse.

"Let go of me you fiend!" the scholar shouted and tried weakly to shake him off. "How could you? Liar! You said it was broken!" there were tears in his eyes now.

"Command IS broken…The Richileu is dead. You saw his ring destroyed with your own eyes."

"Then why…How?" Emris was wracked with convulsive shudders again. "I am Called." He said…voice devoid of emotion. "I MUST go."

This time it was Chosen that shivered.

He set his jaw stubbornly "Not alone you won't. STAY!" In The scholar's present state, the Command would hold him at least long enough for Chosen to dress properly and grab his blades. He certainly wasn't going into any unknown situation unarmed.

The gray mist that shadowed Emris's mind lifted, and his found himself astride Charger, racing against the wind. For once he actually took comfort from Chosen's presence behind him. One gloved hand steady on the reigns, the other around his middle. Emris knew if he were to faint again and plummet from the saddle, he'd surely break his neck at this speed.

"There is no threat at the Abbey." Chosen mumbled more to himself than Emris, "Those that sometimes shelter there bear you no ill will. I can not imagine why they would summon you."

But there was no question that was the very place Remiss was drawn to. Clearly, Emris's strength returned and the pain eased considerably as they neared the ancient structure. "Wait here!" Emris ordered slipping off as soon as Charger halted in the courtyard. Chosen shadowed him regardless, but stayed out of sight in deference to the other man's wish.

A plain looking carriage also waited in the courtyard, the horses lathered and uneasy in their traces. A figure robed in ghost white leaned against the marble steps of the Abbey. Cavalier recognized the man and relaxed immediately then went to soothe the horses with a practiced hand.

"I am sorry, first of all to have to get you here like this. But there just wasn't time." The man explained.

"I do not know you." Emris frowned unable to think of any situation that would justify the pain he experienced this night.

"Do you not?" the man in white asked uncrossing his arms …or rather Arm … the sleeve of the right one was pinned back below the elbow down.

"No less than three times you when faced with the reality of the unholy arts that bound you… You reacted with righteous anger rather than fear."

"The first time, when you fled the citadel, I foolishly stood between you and Miss Ruse who was in my care in the citadel. I saw the fire in your eyes when you took my arm... and by virtue of that fire I named you my heir."

"Your What?" Emris gasped.

"You have always been an avid scholar…I expect you are already well versed in the history of the Institutum Societas Jesu. You may even be aware that a German called Nickel holds the post of Vicar-general.

"Nickel is a farce…he doesn't exist. Mazarin…like Richelieu before him is eager to hunt down the man and do all within their power to disrupt the brotherhood and gain possession of certain artifacts and knowledge.

"Likewise any of Jesuit networks they have uncovered over the years were but small fragments of what we possess. Brothers of the order are on their way here even now to help you marshal the forces at your disposal."

"At my? What are you saying?" Emris asked flabbergasted.

"I am dying, Emris de Ruse. The pain you experienced when I summoned you is a mirror image of my own. Poison flows in my veins and consumes my essence even as we speak. Before dawn I shall take my place in eternity. I am content to know I have not spent my life cheaply. I managed to secure an invaluable treasure…Priceless to our cause -- the last hope of France.

"You will find in that carriage that which you lost years ago. I return it to you now as I know you best suited to manage it and take my place."

"But I'm no priest I fled my duties!" Emris argued, "I never completed my training and am not worthy of such a post. I've done things…"He shook his head sadly, as the words would not come. With a sigh, he admitted, "I can never be ordained."

The Vicar-general nodded. "The Brothers of my order have taken the three vows as you once hoped to. Poverty…Chastity…Humility and also the forth Obedience -- to do the work that most needs be done. They are fine men every one and will be invaluable tools." He placed his hand on Emris's shoulder "But I choose you because I know you will put the forth vow precludes the others. You possess the spirit to use what ever means to battle the evil ones. Were not these very walls empty at your hand?

"I know your conscience will keep you as you are: a priest that might have been. But I also recognize the Vow you have bound yourself to is no less strong or less holy than those of our Society … I have seen to it the brothers shall ask nothing more of you."

"My Vow?" Emris whispered though he knew the man spoke of not the vow the musketeer took to the king and to France (though that bound him still.) It was the vow he's made looking into his Master's eyes 'you will never harm another soul…my promise to God.' It was his duty to make right what the master tainted, bring back those souls to the light…or if that proved impossible, to judgment– before they could perpetuate more harm.

"I give you…this." The lord Less whispered removing the glowing orb from the folds of his armless sleeve … Emris could feel its power even through the silk cloth that shrouded it. "My time is finished…All is in your hands now… To the carriage Emris…you will know what to do to make things right." She man said as he finally succumbed to the pain.

O

Emris stepped uncertainly to the carriage and did not see Chosen go to the one armed man's side. Without the aid from the orb he was fading fast and Chosen wished to have words with the man who had been his friend in the citadel. The lord called only 'Less.'

Once Emris opened the door to the carriage he thought of nothing else there cringing in the corner was a boy tattered and dirty half starved… a boy who wore a mask of unyielding metal, Beautiful and hideous both, embellished with silver and gold and etched with symbols of power, marked with the royal crest.

Fortunately, any friend of the incomparable Porthos knew a thing or two about locks. Slowly, carefully, Emris sprung the lock around the boy's neck allowing him to remove the dreadful mask that had hid the boy's features for a time that was doubtless beyond the child's memory.

Beneath it was a frightened dauphin…with the face of a king.

Emris recognized the boy immediately …there was no doubt that he was the first in nearly 10 years recognize the face of Louis's twin brother…"Philippe!" he gasped at the stunned child.