Ok, now the story can finally get rolling! The next few chapters aren't going to be all that long, and I'll be hammering these out like rabbits have babies. But once they are done, this thing can start tackling the "plot", which I haven't even begun to touch on. It's still developing. And I believe I owe special thanks toMaska, and Zaramoth, who have been extremely flattering and almost ridiculously consistantly reviewing. I'm getting these written as fast as I am because of these guys. So yes. Thank you! I love ya all! Review, damn it! I'm getting to the plot! It's getting good, I think, but if it sucks, let me know. Really, let me know what you think. I get happy and uber fluttery and it makes my week. And the offer still remains: let me know if you want to see something happen, and I will work it in.

Disclaimer: Lucian is mine. Gilles is mine. Napoleon belongs to History. And the Scarlet Pimpernel is not mine. But I catually own most of the stuff in this chapter...wow...

Soon the Moon Will Smoulder

Chapter 8: A Man Can Learn To Work Some Wonder

A plan was in order. Lucian paced about the room, occasionally throwing furtive glances at the open cabinet drawer, his pale yellow eyes lingering for a moment too long on the black steel blade that lay inside before he returned to his pacing, only finding himself looking back at the weapon a few short moments later. He, naturally, was not allowed within this room, and it was kept under tight bolt to ensure that. But he found that his mother frequented it, and it was during one of these visits that Lucian, in his usual covert manner, managed to sneak around the corner and destroy the lock.

He had only managed to gain access to the room that very afternoon after nearly a week of failed attempts to withdraw himself inside. His family had taken another trip to the Ffoulkes residence for one reason or another and, feigning illness, managed to get the baronet's approval to stay home and, with the meek, feeble insistence that he was fine, had convinced his mother to leave him and accompany the rest of the family. The coach was off, and Lucian sprang out of bed and dashed as fast as his legs could carry him to that forbidden room.

It had been well over six months since he had left Teresia, and the two of them had stayed in close correspondence with each other, the Spaniard delivering the young man information pertaining to his father as per requested. And by now, Lucian had developed an extremely vivid mental image of the agent, while he provided the physical image. The boy was growing quickly, and now at fifteen years of age, he was slowly losing the charming quality that children possess and was becoming instead seductive, extraordinarily handsome instead of fair-featured, muscular instead of lean, and he very quickly found himself in the center of the attentions of the women of the court of England.

But still, he had no plan, no direction. True, he knew almost everything he ever wanted to know about Chauvelin, but he was still far from his goal. Of course, he had no idea what that goal was…

Growling in frustration, he reached into the drawer and carefully withdrew the tricolor sash, held it to his chest, carefully ran his fingers over the smooth material. Think…

The children that he had employed in his services had made a one eighty turn in their usefulness to him. Whereas before they had found nothing, over the past six months, the group of adolescents had discovered a large array of information that Lucian found extremely useful in discovering the people who would find themselves on his list of enemies.

The Dewhurst twins had managed to confirm that their father had, in fact, fought against the agent on the night that he was killed, and the letters that Acton brought him, thought the first few were utterly useless, had direct evidence indicating that Tony and Andrew had been in League with the Pimpernel. Allison had not managed to find anything of value, but that was primarily the fault of her meddlesome brother.

Ellison was a constant thorn in Lucian's side, and he sometime regretted telling him everything he did. But, of course, this would all be too easy and no fun at all had he not had the challenge of evading the "defender" of justice, that he had so aptly named himself. Really, it was a pity that the Lord Ffoulkes was so vehemently against everything that Lucian stood for; he could have been the most wonderful of assets. And then there was Allison…

Allison, she was another matter entirely. She did her best, she really did. Her loyalty was astounding, but that was probably due to the fact that she was hopelessly in love with him. She had apparently discussed this thoroughly with her mother and father, already begged them to consider him as an appropriate husband for her, and the Ffoulkes family could not be more thrilled. The Blakeneys and the Ffoulkes' had been long time friends, and the prospects of their two families joining together was thrilling to say the least.

Lucian wanted nothing to do with it. He would gladly fool around with the pretty thing, if for nothing else, to further infuriate Ellison, but he shrank away from the very thought of anything more than a few sporadic nights of passion. Blake, however, jumped at the thought. That foolish brother of his had somehow managed to find himself in a mess of emotions regarding the young Ffoulkes girl. All the better for Lucian. He may finally be able to control the boy. Allison seemed to still serve a purpose after all.

And while Blake was finding himself in pitiful infatuation, Lucian was quickly taking notice of the somehow superb changes that Helouise was undergoing. She was quickly becoming slender limbed, her hips and chest taking on the gentle curves of womanhood, and everyday became lovelier than the day before. And Lucian was having a very hard time accepting this. His kid sister, the young, innocent thing that he adored, was growing up, becoming a woman. He did not quite understand what was happening, but there was a gradual change in the way he treated her, a certain gentleness accompanied by soft thoughts of the girl. It was maddening…

Lucian cursed loudly, forcefully ripping his thoughts away form his sister and directed them back on track; he needed a plan. He had to avenge his father's death, that much was certain. So naturally, the Pimpernel had to die, and while he was at it, he may as well fell the League as well; any descendants of the League and the Pimpernel were naturally placed on the list of extermination with the rest of them. But the British had greatly distorted the vision of the hero in their worship of him, making him out to be some eight feet in height, faster than a horse, and possessing of the powers to become invisible, among other things. No, he could not trust his sources in England to give him what he wanted as pertaining to the Pimpernel, he would have to venture to France to accomplish that.

Then there was the agent's lover, his mother. His vast network of resources had told him that Chauvelin did indeed love his mother, and he had heard the woman say herself that she had loved him as well. Why, then, leave France for England? It seemed quite obvious to him that his mother and Percy were in love with each other, but that did not explain the affair. Something must have happened in those first years of their marriage, and Lucian was willing to accept that his mother did not love the baronet until Chauvelin was dead. If that was the case, then her marriage to Percy was likely for the wealth, and she grew to love the Lord Blakeney when the agent was dead. Point two being that Lucian now felt obligated to avenge his father's love for his mother. Percy would have to suffer for separating his mother and Chauvelin, no questions asked. But still, he needed to eliminate those assumptions first. Yet another task for France.

And then there was the Republic. Not only did the institution fail, but while he had been living, hundreds of nobles from France had been rescued, which must have dealt some major blows to the agent's sense of pride, not to mention a stain on the face of the Republic. Being that it was what he lived for, Lucian decided that the Republic should be avenged as well. First and foremost, all of the aristocrats that had escaped his father's grasp were to be hunted down and brought to justice. Their very survival was an insult to the Revolution, and that simply could not be allowed to continue. For the Republic, these aristocrats would fall, and Lucian put Suzanne Ffoulkes at the top of that list. She had, after all, been saved by that elusive hero, and therefore must be destroyed; the falcon-eyed child had every intention of the complete extermination of every trace of the hero and his deeds. It was the least he could do.

And then there was the Emperor Napoleon. That pompous ass had single-handedly brought down the Republic. Though the Directory was not the vision of the France that the Revolution created, it was still the image of a government for the people. And along came this man of modest stature and destroyed it, proclaiming himself Emperor of France. He clearly had to fall.

Grinning maliciously and tightly clutching the sash in his long-fingered hands, Lucian ran out of the room to fetch a piece of paper, quickly scribbled down what he now considered to be an appropriate plan of action. All he need do was wait, make sure that those who served him would remain loyal to him when he left. Once his absolute dominance was established, Lucian would be off to France. The wheels had been set in motion, and there was little that could be done to stop them.

"Lucian!"

Gilles ran through the mansion, checked the golden boy's room and half the other rooms in the expansive estate before finding the man sitting peacefully in a secluded sitting room, snuggled in an oversized chair and reading a book. Breaking the silence with fast, heavy footsteps, which made the serene reader cringe, Gilles dashed to the chair and knelt beside it, waiving a piece of parchment about and gleefully tugging at the now immensely irritated Lucian's sleeve. "Lucian, I have what you wanted!"

"What?"

"What you asked me to bring you! The addresses! I have them!"

The pale yellow eyes stared blankly into the shining green ones for only a moment before they filled with recollection and then utter joy. Swiftly leaping out of his chair, he grabbed his cousin by the shoulders and swiftly pressed his lips to his forehead. "Oh, you brilliant thing! Dearest cousin, I believe you have just made my month!"

"What? Are these so important?" Gilles asked as he handed the paper over to the impatiently twitching fingers, smiling broadly with the satisfaction of being able to deliver something obviously so important to his beloved cousin.

"If only you knew, my friend," Lucian said absentmindedly as he quickly unfolded the paper and looked over the neat handwriting. "Does your father know about this?" Lucian asked dangerously.

"No Lucian. I kept it secret as you told me to."

Smiling in satisfaction, he tucked the valuable paper into his coat pocket. "What news from France, Gilles?"

"Well," Gilles said softly as he sat down in one of the large chairs, "there had been a temporary cease in Napoleon's military advances, but he has just created a Military Academy, so there is certain to be more fighting."

"Can you venture a guess as to whom between?" Lucian asked quietly as he sat opposite his cousin.

"Being that France has just made a treaty with the Russians, I would guess that he will be going after the Austrians next. There has not been good blood between France and Austria since the Revolution."

Lucian thought this over, slowly nodding as he came to agree with his cousin. "Yes, that makes sense. You're intelligent, Gilles, you know that?"

"Really?" the young St. Just asked in surprise. Lucian was a man of few words, and never wasted any of them. What that boy said, he meant, and it was very likely true. And for Gilles, a complement from Lucian may as well have come from God; he carried himself in such a way that Gilles could not help but simply adore him, yearn to be like him and hope to gain his favor. And it seemed to him as though he had just done that. Gilles could not be happier.

"Yes, I should believe so," Lucian said as he leaned back. "Now, tell me, what think you of the Austrians?"

"The Austrians? I really have no opinion of them, Lucian."

"No?"

Gilles fidgeted nervously, worried that his comment may earn his cousin's scorn. "No, I…that's not bad, right, Lucian?"

Shrugging slightly, Lucian quietly responded, "No, not at all. Good man for being honest." Smiling slyly as he watched the green eyes light up with relief and adoration, he softly asked, "And what of Napoleon?"

Gilles' eyes narrowed in anger. "I hate him, Lucian! Mind you, I love France, but he is ruining it!"

"How so?" Perfect…

"My…my father says that he took the power away from the people and reinstated the class system. The nobles are ruling again, and father doesn't think that's right."

"And what do you think?"

"I…"

"You must have an opinion, Gilles."

"I…I think father is right. I really do. He is attacking everyone, Lucian. He is trying to turn France into an empire." A pause. "Like Rome!"

Lucian smiled, leaned in toward his cousin. "Oh, Gilles, you will be so thrilled if only you knew what I intend to do."

"What?" Gilles asked excitedly.

Grinning softly, Lucian gracefully stood up and, neatly clasping his hands behind his back as he peered out into the hall to be sure no one was there, quietly said, "I am going to bring Napoleon down, Gilles St. Just, and I want you to help me do it."

Gilles stared unmoving at the smug man before him. He was clearly off his rocker. "Lucian, you can't…I mean, how will you do it?"

"Do you remember the Scarlet Pimpernel, Gilles?"

"Yes, of course."

"Do you remember the power that he had in small numbers?"

"Yes…"

"I shall do similar." Lucian knelt before the terribly confused boy, took his hand in his own. "Listen, Gilles. Napoleon needs to fall, and it cannot be too hard to kill the giant. He has too many flaws to last. I propose that we infiltrate his ranks, and destroy him from the inside out. It will be hard, but I am confident that with the resources that I possess, it can be accomplished."

"What do I do?" Gilles asked in a bit of a daze. He somehow doubted that his genius cousin needed him, but if he said that was the case…

"You, Gilles, seem to be quite the apt spy, and I trust you to be able to carry out my plans without flaw."

"You trust me?" the young man asked, a terrible amount of hope in his voice.

Eyes narrowing slightly and grinning all the more, Lucian quietly whispered, "Absolutely." The green eyes filled with utter devotion and unfaltering admiration that the keen gold ones picked up immediately, and Lucian was not one to let opportunity pass him by. Standing up and gently laying his hand upon the young St. Just's head as the green eyed boy dropped to his knees before him, he smoothly whispered, "Swear you will aid me in my mission, Gilles."

"I swear on the good name of my father, Lucian."

"Promise you will follow my commands exactly as given."

"You have my absolute loyalty."

"And you will follow me without question?"

"Yes."

Smiling in triumph as he slowly drew the trembling boy's head to his stomach, running his long fingers through the smooth brown hair, he smoothly stated, "And in return for your service, you shall have anything you wish. Name it, and it shall be yours."

Gilles turned his eyes up toward the man and, in a trembling voice, whispered, "All I want is you to accept me as one of your family."

"Done. I hold you closer than my own brother." Well, they shared the same amount of common blood…

"I am at your disposal, Lucian."

Placing his hands on his cousin's shoulders and holding him at arms length, the falcon-like gold eyes bore into the hopeless devotion of the deep green, Lucian watched in delight as Gilles shivered, grasped his hand and kissed it. How easy this boy was to play…

"Listen, Gilles. As I develop my plan of action, I shall keep you updated. When the time is right, we will strike against the Emperor, but for now, we must keep this secret, lest the enemy get word of our plan and thwart our mission. No one must know, do you understand?"

"Yes, Lucian."

"Good boy." Gently grasping his cousin's arms and helping him up, Lucian put his arm over his shoulder and led him to the door. "I thank you for all you have done, Gilles. I shall send for you as soon as something develops. But for now, tread carefully. We will have enemies everywhere, no doubt. Farewell, cousin."

"Goodbye, Lucian. Thank you."

Smiling softly at the boy, he quietly said, "Think nothing of it, Gilles," before he shut himself up in the room once again, returning to his chair. Grinning maliciously, he couldn't help but laugh out loud; really, his cousin was stupid, but certainly not inept. Oh no, he was rather capable, but had no sense of utility, no way to determine and simply could not discriminate between when his craft was useful and when it would merely get him into trouble. He was merely helping his cousin hone that skill of his. And when he did, Gilles would be quite the ally, and extremely useful spy, agent, whatnot.

And he belonged to Lucian.