Author's Note: Yo. Chapter 5 here.
As some people clearly seem to disbelieve my words written in the last chapter, I shall repeat myself and expand upon it.
When I talk about making Joan of Arc a Heretic God, I am not referring to the mortal woman. She died of fire in 1431 and cannot be brought back.
In 1452, a retrial was held, to see if the original trial was conducted justly and according to canon law. The result, in 1456, was that Joan was a martyr and that Pierre Cauchon, the person who conducted the original trial, was implicated in heresy by pursuing a secular vendetta.
Like we all didn't know that, right?
She was beatified in 1909 and canonised in 1920, becoming one of the nine secondary patron saints of France, although she was a semi-legendary figure already in the four centuries since her death.
This is who would be a Heretic God, the Catholic Saint, Joan of Arc.
As to the person who asks about how Alec killed the Behemoth; I have no idea, because it is Campione! Canon. By all means, look it up on the Campione Wikia.
As always, Read, Review and check out my other stories!
Disclaimer: I do not own Campione!
"Godō" - Regular Speech
'My Everyday life…!' - Thoughts
"God Slayer!" - Heretic God/Powered Up Campione speech
"Fire!" - Magic/Authority Use
Chapter 5: Knights and the Surging Sea
Later on…
Terminal 1, Nice Côte d'Azur Airport Cannes, France
"I hate flying." Jean muttered as she got out of the plane, tottering slightly as she walked.
"Your two main areas of influence are the ocean and earth, so it isn't that much of a surprise that the sky, Zeus' domain, feels uncomfortable to you." Rebecca pointed out as she hid a grin. The Hearth Witch walked behind her King with a spring in her step. Returning to her Hearth after a trip was always a heady experience for her and it took a couple of days for it to leave her afterwards.
"Always ready with an answer, aren't you?" Jean grumbled.
"I merely try to serve you to the best of my ability, Your Majesty." Rebecca replied as they collected their baggage and headed for the exit, "Having an answer ready at all times is one such service."
Jean grumbled at the repeated twitting her friend/subordinate was subjecting her to, before turning to a serious topic.
"So how do we go about speaking to the Order of Crossed Swords?" she asked.
"We won't have to; they'll find us." Rebecca replied, "A Campione's presence in a Mage Association's territory is a cause for concern, so whenever one sets foot in someone's territory without prior warning, agents are dispatched to investigate them. By the time we set up shop in a hotel, they will have tracked us down and will likely send an emissary to speak with you."
"I feel like a natural disaster." Jean grumbled as she stepped out the doors.
"Most Campione are very much like that." Rebecca said dryly, "Don't take it personally."
"A bit hard not to." Jean replied sourly, "So we go to Nice from here then? Where is the Order located?"
"In Saint-Raphaël, but they have members stationed in all of the towns in Southern France." Rebecca replied, "So it won't affect how long it takes them to track us down."
"Well, we'd better head to Nice then." Jean sighed. She was a bit nervous about dictating things to men and women who were far older and more experienced than her, but it was somewhat expected of a Campione to command the local Mage Associations to help protect the non-magical population when a Heretic God descended, although it was more usual for the Campione's subordinates in their Mage Association to do the telling.
As Jean didn't have any subordinates aside from Rebecca, she would have to do it herself, which would likely be nerve-wracking and irritating. Still, it beat having them interfere while she was fighting a Heretic God.
"I leave the taxi to you. I'm still having problems using the language translator aspect of my magic." Jean said to Rebecca.
"Unsurprising; you've only had your power for three days." Rebecca said with a shrug, "You'll get a hang of it."
With that, the Hearth Witch set out to prepare their transport.
CCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCC
Two Hours Later
Paladin's Office, Headquarters, Order of the Crossed Swords, Saint-Raphaël
"I beg your pardon?" was the only thing that Jacques Bonaparte could say as he stared at his Great Knight in shock.
Jacques had been the Paladin of the Order of Crossed Swords for just over a decade and his office was fairly lavish with antique weaponry, expensive paintings and even some marble busts of past leaders of the Order.
His lavish oak desk, with mahogany inlays and elegant carvings, was just about all that kept him upright. This could not be happening. A Campione in France? Now? Not only that, but in the Order's territory?
Françoise Dubois, the first female Great Knight in the history of the Order of Crossed Swords, repeated what she just said. "The Eighth Campione has taken a room in a hotel in Nice. Our Chapterhouse in Nice has agents watching them as we speak."
"Why? Why now? If this one is anything like that idiot Salvatore Doni…! Gah!" he muttered furiously, "When he came here and slew Dionysus, he made a mess of several historic monuments! The amount of damage control we had to do was astonishing!"
"Sir, we have no idea what kind of person the new King is." Françoise said carefully, "What is known is that the King is female and a Scot."
"L'Ecosse?" Jacques asked in surprise, "Well that's interesting. Did she bring any subordinates with her?"
"A single woman. Rebecca Piper, a descendent of one of the minor founding members of the Greenwich Witenagemot." the Great Knight replied, "From what our agents have reported thus far, the new King treats her as something like a mix of a confidant and a friend."
"Wait…Rebecca Piper? Isn't she the Assistant Librarian for the Greenwich Archives?" Jacques asked, "Does this mean the new Campione has taken over the Witenagemot?!"
"I doubt it, My Lord." Françoise said patiently, "They were overheard discussing why Campione have Mage Associations to help them and the new King seemed dissatisfied with leaving things to subordinates, so it is doubtful that she took over the Greenwich Witenagemot, especially since they are only an Association by default."
The Paladin grunted in agreement. "Still, this is troublesome. France is peaceful right now. There has not been a Sorcerer here in five years and no Heretic Gods in one year, not since Salvatore Doni slew the God of Wine. What reason could she have for coming here?"
"We should follow procedure and have our local agents contact the new King to determine the purpose for her visit." the female Knight stated.
"Right, right…see to that, would you?" Jacques said as he sat down at his desk, "I need time to think."
Françoise nodded and left his office to contact the Chapterhouse in Nice. The Paladin, left alone, let a scowl cross his face as he contemplated this new situation. France was, by all counts, a quiet place in regards to Dark Magic like Sorcery and Heretic Gods, for whatever reason, which was exactly how he liked it.
Jacques had fought his way up the ladder of the Order of Crossed Swords' organisation chart until he had attained the office of the Paladin. Being Paladin of a Militant Mage Organisation in a relatively peaceful country like France might seem like a waste of time to most people, but to Jacques it was the equivalent of having your cake and eating it; all the power and prestige with very little fighting.
Over five-hundred years ago in the 15th Century, during the Hundred Years' War between the Kingdom of England and the allied Kingdoms of Scotland and France, the constant warfare on French soil had seemed to draw in Heretic Gods like flies to a corpse. Campione had caused almost as much damage as the battles between the non-magical Kings and Knights during their battles.
The various magical sects in France had united into a single organisation to better handle the after-effects of the battles between Heretic Gods and Campione or even the frequent clashes between the Devil Kings themselves.
After the end of the war, Heretic Gods began appearing less and less, so the organisation -as yet unnamed at that point- had turned to embedding itself into France. The leader at the time, Sir Gui of Burgundy, had named the organisation the La Fraternité des toiles et d'Épées (The Brotherhood of the Stars and Swords) upon his deathbed.
The French Revolution had caused the split resulting in the Brotherhood and the Order. The founders of the Order had believed in the egalitarianism espoused by Robespierre and Saint-Just, while the more conservative members of the Brotherhood, usually but not always those from the Aristocratic families, preferred to maintain the Status Quo.
Rather than delve into bloodshed like their mundane counterparts, they leaders of the two opposing sides parted ways. The Brotherhood of the Night Sky, having far more members, retained control of Northern and Central France, while the Order had taken possession of the South of France.
In the two-hundred-odd years since the French Revolution, only four Heretic Gods had descended in France and of those, two had been in the territory of the Brotherhood and one had gallivanted off to Italy immediately after descending.
'Whatever the reason for her visit, I want her out of here ASAP!' Jacques thought firmly, 'The last thing we need is for a trouble magnet like a Campione to set up shop in my territory!'
CCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCC
A Short Time Later
Royal Suite, Hotel Negresco, Nice
"So, do you think they've mustered the courage to approach yet?" Jean asked as she lazed on the Four-Poster bed.
"Probably not for another ten minutes or so." Rebecca replied from where she sat at a nearby table, reading a book, "Doni scared the pants off of them when he slew Dionysus, so that will take some doing to recover from."
"The Grecian God of Wine?" Jean raised her head to look at her questioningly, "How could he be any trouble?"
"He is also the God of Ritual Madness, Fertility, Theatre, Religious Ecstasy, Grape Harvest and Winemaking." Rebecca replied, "He increased the potency of all alcohol just by being within a kilometre of it, driving those that drank so much as a sip totally drunk. He could inflict madness in people just by staring at them, as well as summon his thiasos, his entourage, including Satyrs and Maenads."
"Wow. So what Authority did Doni gain from that?" Jean asked.
"We of the Witenagemot refer to it as [Curse of Rampage], but Doni himself identifies it as [Divine Confusion]." Rebecca replied, "It is very powerful, so much so that when the King of Swords used it, he couldn't control it. It grants him the power to cause Divine Authorities and other magics to go berserk, completely out of the control of the user. Fortunately, it takes some preparation for him to use, so it isn't a threat as long as you keep him occupied and deny him that preparation time."
"You make it sound like he and I are going to inevitably clash." Jean remarked as she sat up and stretched.
"Salvatore Doni is a fighting fool." Rebecca replied dryly, "He challenged Lord Kusanagi not long after he received his Authorities. He delights in battle, even more so than most Campione do. He has fought almost all of the Campione at this point, with the exception of Madame Aisha and John Pluto Smith. Not counting you. Italy and Greece are places seeped in ancient mysteries and thus have a high number of Heretic Gods descending there in comparison to the rest of the world. So…"
"So the likelihood of him challenging me to a fight is over a hundred percent." Jean finished with a roll of her eyes, "Great. What rambunctious brothers I have."
"Truly." Rebecca agreed, before she cocked her head, "Two people have just tripped my wards at the end of the corridor leading to our suite. Both possess magic."
"About time." Jean sighed, "I have jet lag, so let's get this out of the way. I'll wait in here; you let them into the living room portion."
"Got it." Rebecca nodded, "I'll have to act like your advisor, so pardon my manners while I'm dealing with them."
"Why do I have the feeling you're going to enjoy this?" Jean muttered as she grabbed her 'Campione clothes' as she called them and started to change clothes.
"Because Your Majesty is a very insightful individual." Rebecca replied with a grin as she headed out the door and closed it behind her. She then waited for the inevitable knock on the door.
Two seconds later, it came. Putting on a neutral mask, Rebecca walked forwards and opened the door. Standing there was a man and a woman, dressed in casual fashion.
"Miss Rebecca Piper?" the man asked in French.
"Indeed. Might I ask who you are?" she replied fluently in the same language.
"We are representatives of the Order of the Crossed Swords." the woman replied, "We are here to speak to the Eighth Campione. May we speak with her?"
"Come in." Rebecca said, standing to one side and letting the pair of Knights -they had to be Knights- into the room. As they passed her, she examined them subtly.
The man was in his late-thirties, with short-cropped blond hair and watery blue eyes. He had a goatee that almost covered his weak chin and thick eyebrows. He carried himself like a warrior, but there was a great deal of uncertainty in his stance.
The woman was a longhaired brunette with coal-black eyes. She carried herself like an aristocrat and had quite the imperious look in her eyes. She wore tasteful makeup and had the scent of very expensive perfume about her.
"Your names please." she said as she shut the door and strode around them to stand before them.
"I am Marcel Artois, Knight of the Order of Crossed Swords." the male introduced himself, "And my companion is Michelle LeClerc, First Knight of the local Chapterhouse of the Order."
"A pleasure to meet you both." Rebecca nodded, "As you are aware, my King has no subordinates other than myself, so she wishes to impart the reason for her visit to France to you personally."
"I see." Michelle muttered, "Would you care to tell use her real reason for coming here before she tells us the official reason?"
The arrogance in her voice was almost palpable and reminded Rebecca very much of Miss Ericson at her worst. She regarded the First Knight steadily.
"The reason Her Majesty will give is both the official reason and the actual reason." she replied coldly, "Let me give you both a word of warning. My King is very laid back by the standards of Campione, but she cannot abide people talking down to her as you just did to me. She has threatened to go to war with the Royal Arsenal for Lord Alec's arrogance; do not let your own self-inflated opinion of your own importance blind you to the fact that she is a Campione or else your Order will not survive the retaliation. Am I understood?"
"Perfectly." Marcel said tightly, shooting a look at his superior in warning.
"Very good." Rebecca said calmly, "I shall not fetch my King."
She couldn't help but overhear the whispered conversation the two had as she walked to the bedroom door.
"Are you trying to get the Order destroyed, Michelle?!" Marcel hissed, "You cannot reason with an irate Campione, nor can you buy them off with your uncle's money! This woman can destroy you utterly!"
"I have yet to see any reason to worry." Michelle replied smoothly, "That wench is above herself, talking to a Knight like that…"
"That 'wench' can hear you perfectly fine." Rebecca said as she turned around, "Let me tell you something, oh Knight. I stood and faced a Heretic God in battle. The sheer power almost crushed me and the presence of the God was suffocating. Compared to that, you are a large fish in a small pond. Think on that for a moment."
With that, Rebecca opened the bedroom door and entered, slamming it behind her, startling Jean, who was dressed in her Campione outfit.
"Trouble?" she asked quietly.
"The woman, the First Knight of the local Chapterhouse, is a spoiled rich kid who apparently has an uncle with deep pockets that has gotten her out of trouble before." Rebecca replied, "If she insults you, focus your magic at her. She has to learn not to act like that in front of Campione; otherwise any of the others would cut her down where she stood."
"Right." Jean nodded, "Ready?"
"At your command, my King." the Hearth Witch grinned.
"I will get you for this." the Scottish girl muttered before she put an implacable expression on her face and ordered crisply, "Announce me."
Rebecca swallowed at the sudden presence that her friend was extruding. It was a bit unnerving how she could switch between persona like that.
Shaking her inaction off, Rebecca strode to the door and threw it open. Stepping through, she curtseyed and stated in a formal voice, "Introducing Her Majesty Jean Campbell. Eighth Devil King and Ruler of Magical Scotland."
She had added in that last bit as ad lib, but it was what Jean was eventually going to challenge Alec for anyway. She didn't want England, Wales or Ireland; she just wanted to be left alone by him in Scotland, which would mean challenging the Black Prince for it.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Marcel encourage Michelle to curtsey, which she did stiffly and reluctantly. Clearly, she was not accustomed to showing respect to other people.
Jean walked through the door regally, nodding slightly to Rebecca before turning her attention to the two Knights. After studying them for a moment, she moved to a chair that was standing in front of the fireplace, sat down and said, "You may raise your heads."
Straightening up, Rebecca noted that the rich girl did not look happy.
Jean examined the two Knights for a moment before nodding. "As you know, I am the newest Campione. I have only the vaguest idea what that means and I'm certain that what it means for me differs quite a bit than what it means for the pair of you. I am a tyrant like my brothers and sisters, but I am not unreasonable. Be polite to me and mine and we will have no issues with one another."
"We thank you for your forbearance, Lady Jean." Marcel replied, "May I deliver the message that our superiors instructed us to deliver?"
"Very well." Jean nodded, "Speak, messenger."
"Lady Françoise Dubois, Great Knight of our Order, sends her regards to you and would ask what has brought you to our lovely country with such alacrity." Marcel said swiftly and eloquently.
"I see that Rebecca's words regarding how your Order regards Campione are proven to be true." Jean remarked, "It is good that you came. You can act as my messenger in return. Sir Marcel, can you hear my words and take them to your masters?"
"Our superiors." Michelle muttered under her breath. She then collapsed to her knees as she felt an immense pressure bear down on her until she started to feel like Atlas holding the weight of the sky on his shoulders.
"I'm sorry; did I give you permission to speak, First Knight?" Jean asked calmly.
"My Lady! Please! She can't take that kind of pressure!" Marcel protested shrilly.
Michelle was thankful a minute later that the pressure receded, otherwise she would have lost consciousness. She panted as she shakily stood up once again, Marcel helping her.
"First Knight, you should consider yourself lucky that your subordinate possesses the courage to stand against a Campione, otherwise I would have let you fall unconscious." Jean stated evenly, "Compared to my eldest brother Voban and my eldest sister Luo Cuilian, even that would be considered a merciful punishment indeed. Voban would turn you to salt and Cuilian would beat you for your impertinence. I recommend that you focus on the humility aspect of the Code of Valour from here on out."
"My…thanks…Your Majesty." Michelle said quietly.
"To my message then." Jean returned her attention to Marcel, "My Divine Adopted Mother, Lady Pandora, informed me upon the completion of the ritual that allowed me to be born anew as a Campione that a Heretic God is due to descend somewhere in the South of France, likely on the coast or on Corsica. She then instructed me to slay it."
Allowing the news to sink in to the pair of Knights, Jean had to stifle a small smirk at how pale they turned at what she said.
'Princess Alice was right; Rebecca has more steel in her spine than these Knights do.' she thought in amusement.
"To that end, I require the aid of your Order to monitor for unusual concentrations of magic, unusual happenings and the like, as well as minimizing damage to the buildings and populace of whosesoever the Heretic God descends." Jean continued, "Kindly have your Great Knight pass this on to the Paladin post haste; I can sense that there is not much time left before it happens. A day, two at the outside."
"Your Majesty, is this similar to the feeling you had before the God you slew appeared?" Rebecca asked respectfully.
"Indeed it is." Jean frowned, "It is like…pressure. While I was human, I could only sense the pressure of the presence of a God a few seconds before he materialised; now, I can sense…whoever this Heretic God is approaching like a cold weather front."
"You must have Hime-Miko blood." Rebecca mused aloud, "What you are describing is an ability on their level, known as [Divine Sensing]. With training, it allows a regular Hime-Miko to sense the approach of a Heretic God hours in advance. With your power as a Campione and that training, you could sense the coming of a Heretic God days in advance."
"I already can." Jean pointed out dryly.
"Yes, but you are uncertain as to the exact length of time until the God descends." Rebecca countered, "How would you like to be able to be able to say exactly when and where the Heretic God is due to appear?"
"I take your point." Jean nodded, "Contact Princess Alice and have her search for a Hime-Miko who possesses such a skill and see if she would be willing to tutor me in utilising it."
"If I might speak?" Marcel interjected. At Jean's nod, he continued, "No Hime-Miko has been born with that power in hundreds of years. You would be the first in centuries, Your Majesty. The closest you might be able to get would be one with [Spirit Vision] or [Spirit Sensing] and the only Hime-Miko alive who possess either of those are affiliated with the Seventh Campione, King Kusanagi."
"My youngest brother, eh?" Jean merely raised an eyebrow, "My thanks for that information. You impress me, Sir Knight. Now, kindly return to your chapterhouse with your superior and inform her superiors of my words. Return when you have a reply."
"By your command." Marcel bowed slightly before helping Michelle out of the room, closing the door behind him.
Jean sagged in her chair. "That was nerve wracking. Did I go too far with the magic?"
"No, you were very merciful." Rebecca replied honestly, "And you were right; no other Campione, except maybe King Kusanagi, would be so merciful to her for such disrespect."
"I see." Jean sighed, "Do I really have the blood of a Hime-Miko in me or were you just talking me up for the benefit of those two?"
"I was telling the truth." the Hearth Witch said seriously, "Jean, this is serious; no Campione has ever been a Hime-Miko before. Witches have been Campione, but not Hime-Miko. Finding a tutor will be problematic though. While your eldest sister Luo Cuilian has [Spirit Vision], asking for her aid would be close to impossible, as she sees regular humans as beneath her notice and you'd have to fight her to gain her respect enough to have her deign to teach you."
"I want to avoid fighting my siblings until I have a few more Authorities under my belt." Jean said with a frown, "Not only to I only have the Authorities from only one God, I lack battle experience."
"Might I compliment you on your wisdom, Your Majesty?" Rebecca said with a smirk, "Not only have you realised your shortcomings compared to your siblings, you have realised that it is only a matter of time before you clash with them. This is still something which King Kusanagi struggles with, from what I hear."
"Yeah, yeah." Jean grumbled at the royal epaulet again, "I'm going for a bath. Give me a call if something comes up."
"As you wish." the Hearth Witch said as Jean headed towards the bathroom.
'She's adjusting fast to this life…' Rebecca mused to herself as the door shut with a click, 'I wonder how much of this adjustment is a brave front and how much is true adjustment?'
This had been something that the Witenagemot Witch had been wondering ever since the confrontation with Alec. Jean had seemed to adjust too quickly to her new life as a Campione, as one of the eight most powerful men and women on the planet. She faced an experienced Campione with barely a twitch in her demeanour and had even acted so well that said Campione had been shaken by her confidence.
Yet even Salvatore Doni, the fastest to adjust to his new life and powers, had required three months before he randomly destroyed things by overexerting his strength. Jean hadn't done anything like that, aside from accidentally removing too much water between Iona and the small island that they had battled Poseidon on, and she had solved that easily enough by returning the flow to normal a few minutes later.
'Could it be her relationship with the Goddess Pandora?' Rebecca wondered as she sat down at a table nearby, 'That's the main difference between Jean and her adopted siblings, that and the fact that she had used up almost all of her magic and life-force using Poseidon's [Tríaina] Authority twice.'
After a moment, she dismissed the second notion. According to the report from Erica Blandelli, Great Knight of the Copper-Black Cross and the first mistress of King Kusanagi, he had used the Prometheus Grimoire to launch Verethragna's [White Stallion] Authority at him before stealing the God of Victory's [Golden Sword] Authority before using it to kill the Invincible Warlord. That made three uses of a Grimoire.
Even if the Fire-Thief's Grimoire was especially designed for stealing, containing and using Divine Authorities, using it three times in less than five minutes -especially as a mortal! - would severely drain a person's life force. From what little Jean had said about using the Poseidon Grimoire, it had been sheer force of will keeping her upright and conscious during the last clash with the Sea God, which matched the Diavolo Rosso's report about Kusanagi being barely able to stand after stealing the [Golden Sword] and collapsing after defeating Verethragna.
The Hearth Witch sighed as she ruminated over the problem and decided to put it to one side for the moment. Jean hadn't shown any signs of crumbling, so either she really was as adjusted as she appeared or she was a very, very good actress.
CCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCC
Five Minutes Later
Paladin's Office, Order of Crossed Swords HQ, Saint-Raphaël
"This is a nightmare!" Jacques moaned, his head held in his hands in despair, "A Heretic God, here!"
The Paladin was dressed in a tasteful and expensive suit, with a light-blue cape flowing from his shoulders that was flapping as the distressed man paced back and forth in his office, with the Great Knight of his Order standing and watching him in amusement.
"The Eighth Campione seems convinced that we only have two days at best before the God appears." Françoise remarked, "Your orders, Paladin?"
"Damn, damn, damn, DAMN!" Jacques cursed, before muttering several choice expletives under his breath for a moment. Once he had finished venting his spleen to the air around him, he whirled to face Françoise.
"Yes…yes…do what she said." the Paladin said with a frown, "Have Marcel act as liaison until you go there to greet her. I want this Heretic God dead and her gone as fast as possible."
"By your command." Françoise bowed and left.
Jacques waited until she was definitely gone before sitting at his desk, picking up the receiver of his phone and dialling a number he had memorised by heart.
"Hello…Mr Rivera?" he asked as it was picked up almost immediately, "It's me, Jacques…yes, Paladin of the Order of Crossed Swords…no, Doni isn't here…A Heretic God is due to descend here in the next two days…no, Doni shouldn't be told…the Eighth Campione is here to fight the Heretic God and the last thing we need is Doni challenging her to a fight either before or after the fact…she threatened Lord Alec. What do you think she'd do if Doni tried to strong-arm her into a challenge?…That's what I thought."
He listened for a moment. "No, I want her gone as fast as possible…yes, that sounds like a plan…this is Doni we're talking about here…I know about the arrangement, but I cannot help it if another Campione steals his prey…no….I said no, Mr Rivera. The last thing I need is to evoke the wrath of the new Campione. I already have my niece's blunder to make up for…Thank you for understanding. I shall speak to you again when the time is right."
After he hung up the phone, Jacques had to repress a snarl. After he slew Dionysus, Doni had said he had had 'such fun' doing so, that he would come here to deal with any Heretic Gods that turned up, essentially claiming Southern France as his territory, just as Alec claimed Northern France when he slew Minos.
'Damn these Campione!' the Paladin thought with a scowl, 'Messing up my nice, ordered world!'
CCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCC
The Next Day, 12:00pm
Promenade des Anglais, Nice
"I can see why people come here; the view is magnificent." Jean remarked to Marcel and Rebecca. The three of them were walking along the Promenade des Anglais (Promenade of the English) or as the locals called it 'La Prom', and occasionally taking the lovely view of la Baie des Anges (The Bay of Angels).
"You are lucky that this is not a Sunday, otherwise the place would be packed with families." the Knight replied, "I will say that I often come here when I have no work to do and just relax while getting a tan. It is one of my favourite activities in late spring to midsummer."
"Sounds lovely." Rebecca said with a longing sigh, "Maybe once the Heretic God is sorted out, we can indulge in a bit of sunbathing ourselves, eh Your Majesty?"
"Sounds good to me." Jean replied, "I'll have to get some strong suntan lotion though. You know what sun does to fair-skinned redheads like me."
"We'll have to buy bikinis as well." Rebecca said thoughtfully, "We only have the bare essentials with us."
"Meh. We'll have at least one day of lounging about before we head off after we take care of this Heretic God." jean said firmly, "We'll deal with details after the fact."
"Speaking of which, can you sense anything, Your Majesty?" Marcel asked politely.
Jean frowned and reached out with what limited control she had over the [Divine Sensing] power that she possessed. "Close…the Heretic God will descend within the next six hours at most. But…this is odd…he will descend several nautical miles out from here, in the middle of the ocean."
"Definitely a God of the Sea of some description then." Rebecca noted grimly, "Can you sense anything about the Heretic God that might tell us something about who he is?"
"No." Jean shook her head, "The sense of power is very subtle and has no distinguishing characteristics about it. I don't think [Divine Sensing] works like that. It can tell me when and, at a stretch, where a Heretic God will descend, but it tells me nothing about the Heretic God in question."
"It was a bit much to ask, I suppose." the Hearth Witch sighed before she looked at Marcel. "Does the Order have any sea transportation?"
"The Paladin has a yacht tied up in Lympia Port for when he comes here to relax, but that's it." the Knight replied warily.
"Oh? What kind?" Rebecca pressed.
"It's a "Lazzara" 80' "Alchemist"." th3e man replied resignedly, seeing where this was going, "It is and 80 foot yacht and has a cruising speed of 24 knots and a top speed of 30 knots."
"Sounds like just what the doctor ordered then." Jean said with a grin, "Kindly fetch the keys and have some supplies loaded…we're going fishing."
In Saint-Raphaël, the Paladin had a horrible feeling that he was about to lose one of his more expensive toys. The worst part was his Great Knight was caught in traffic and wouldn't arrive there for another hour. He hated Campione!
Three Hours Later
S.S. Pucelle, Mediterranean Ocean, French Costal Waters
"Whew!" Jean yelled in delight. Marcel had just kicked the Pucelle (Maiden) into top speed and she loved every moment of it. There was just something about being on the open waters of the ocean that filled her with glee.
"Nice to see you enjoying yourself, Your Majesty!" Rebecca yelled over the sound of the engine.
"I always did like the sea!" the Eighth Campione retorted, "It does exactly as it pleases when it pleases, without caring for anyone else's opinion!"
Rebecca nodded with a laugh. That sounded a lot like Jean.
"Eh? What's that over there?" Marcel pointed out a grey cloud on the horizon to their port.
"…Mist?" Rebecca suggested.
"There shouldn't be any mist or fog at sea at this time of year." Jean said with a frown, "The conditions aren't right for it and my weather sense says that it should be clear and sunny all the way to Corsica right now."
"That must be where the Heretic God is descending then." Rebecca concluded, "Marcel, head over there but be ready to bring us about at full speed at a moments notice."
"Yes ma'am." the Knight replied and steered towards the fogbank.
"This is troubling though…why descend here?" Jean wondered aloud, "Even the God I slew came down to earth on the land, so why is this one all the way out here?"
"Perhaps it's a Sea God that has never had anything to do with the land?" Rebecca theorised, "That would be a fairly rare thing however. Most Sea Gods are often associated with the earth, as well as other earthbound aspects."
"That is a point." Jean nodded, "It can't be a Fire God though; why manifest where your natural enemy surrounds you? What about one of the Dragon Kings from Chinese Mythology?"
"That would make sense." Rebecca nodded, "Yet…it doesn't feel like the right answer. A Dragon King, according to legend, resides in an underwater crystal palace. That would be where they would manifest, not atop the water's surface like this."
"True enough." Jean conceded. She had only known about the Dragon Kings because she had played Titan Quest at a friend's house a couple of times.
The fogbank loomed above them as they approached it, the dark, almost black fog seething and bubbling as they approached it.
"Come about." Jean ordered, "I don't want to get near that fog. It might be the Authority of whatever God is descending. I'd survive, but you two wouldn't."
"An excellent point." Rebecca nodded, "Will you be heading in then?"
"I had better." Jean said grimly, "Who knows what kind of chaos this Heretic God would cause if it made it to the coastal cities of France? I'll take him out here-"
"Ship Ahoy!" Marcel yelled, "Look at that thing!"
Jean and Rebecca whirled around to see what he was talking about and promptly gaped in disbelief.
The ship was about 200 feet long from bow to stern. Made of wood, its distinctive three-mast sailing pattern and three gun decks made it immediately obvious that it was a Man-of-War. The ragged and tattered sails nevertheless billowed in a non-existent wind, but two things immediately drew Jean's attention.
The first was the name of the ship on the bow. Covered in mould and encrusted with barnacles, she could nevertheless make out the words 'De Vliegende Hollander' where the name of ships were always painted on.
The Flying Dutchman sailed the seas once again.
"Get us moving back to shore quickly and away from the broadsides of that ship!" Jean roared at Marcel, who leapt to do her bidding as she focussed on the figure standing upon the bow forecastle with a blade raised, pointed at their ship.
He was a large man, wearing the clothes one would expect of a ship's captain from the seventeenth century, complete with a tricorne hat and a large belt slung over one shoulder. His clothes were as ragged as the sails, and his long black hair and beard fluttered in the breeze as he opened his mouth.
"Halt, ye swabs! For now, ye are in the presence of Davy Jones, the Seaman's Devil and none of ye be leavin' this stretch of the sea alive!" he bellowed, anger, malice and resentment clearly audible in his voice.
"Rebecca, Marcel." Jean said slowly, "Once I leap off of the boat, make best speed towards Nice and gather as much as you can possibly find out about Davy Jones and the Flying Dutchman."
With that, Jean strode out to face the second Heretic God of her life.
CCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCC
Next Chapter: Heretic God Davy Jones
CCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCC
