CHAPTER THIRTEEN:

FALLEN FROM GRACE

Night patrol. What an embarrassment. Night patrols were for green guards; fresh soldiers who had never gotten their nice uniforms dirty.

Still, Lieutenant Roger did as he was bid, no matter how much it irked him. He may not be a captain anymore, but he was still a soldier sworn to protect Agreste.

If anything, he preferred the peace and quiet of the city streets. The alternative was safeguarding the palace, where all the other men would notice him and whisper behind his back.

He may be old and fat, but Roger's ears were still sharp. And so we're his eyes.

Not too long ago, his soldiers had looked up to him with respect. Now, their eyes bore traces of pity. Humour, even. Roger hated it.

But he had almost executed the prince's bride and her fiery witch friend. Roger couldn't deny that he had been more than pleased to carry out the order, even if it had come from Volpina in Prince Adrien's guise.

King Gabriel had been very displeased with the captain's cold, ruthless behaviour. So he had Roger demoted as punishment.

That wouldn't have been so bad... had the king not given that pushover, serving boy Nino the mantle of captain. That put salt on the wound.

Roger grunted and resumed his hard march down another empty alley. There was no use getting worked up over his failures now, especially when he had a special meeting to attend.

The mysterious message had been delivered to the lieutenant personally. It had not been signed, but the neat handwriting indicated someone of average intelligence and status. At least, Roger hoped it did.

But the message itself was what intrigued Roger the most:

I have invaluable information about the Forty Thieves. I would be most honoured to share them with you in person. Raincomprix Street. Midnight. Come alone.

The cloak-and-dagger nature of the message was obvious. But Roger's eagerness to see if this "information" was real or not – along with his wounded pride at losing to the Forty Thieves at the wedding – made him stumble out of the barracks that night and hobble into the city on the pretext of going on duty.

If it's a trick, Roger thought as he approached the rendezvous point, whoever set it up will soon learn what happens when they mess with the likes of me

The palace guard entered the designated street, which was completely deserted at this time of night. Not only that, but it was in the lower levels of the city. Everything here was run-down and filthy, with splintered barrels and unfinished foundations laying about like bones left for the buzzards.

Oh, sure – nothing cloak-and-dagger about this place at all.

Roger ignored the unsteady quivering inside him as he glanced around. The shadows were so thick, it was hard to see. Anything could jump out at him at any...

"Lieutenant."

Roger's blade was in his hand as he snapped around to the source of the whisper.

It had come from one of the dark corners of an abandoned building beside him.

One of the shadows was moving.

"Show yourself!" Roger hissed, using anger to hide the fear rising through him.

The shady person emerged. His long cane clinked against the earthy ground as he stepped forward. In the faint moonlight, his face lit up with cool intrigue.

Roger stiffened. That was no face he was seeing. It looked more like a silver skull, and it seemed to glow brighter as the stranger grinned at the plump guard.

"You're alone," the man said. "Good."

Roger swallowed, keeping his sword raised and his eyes narrowed. "So... you are the one with "invaluable information" about the Forty Thieves?" he asked suspiciously.

The stranger leaned upon his cane, though Roger wasn't sure why he needed it. The man looked prime and fit as someone in his late thirties would.

"I understand you don't trust me, lieutenant," he said with the air of a respectable nobleman. "Forgive me. Would you prefer to be called "captain"? You were, after all, the head of the palace guard, were you not?"

Roger's mouth became a tight line, and his face reddened. Great – now everyone knows that I'm the laughing-stalk of Agreste's finest men. "The only thing I would prefer is for you to not be wasting my time," he snapped. "Now start talking, and then I'll decide whether or not your information is believable."

That skull-like grin broadened. "Spoken like a true soldier. What would you say if I handed you the Queen of Thieves?"

That made Roger lower his sword.

Handed him the Queen of Thieves? The stranger spoke those words as though he was handing Roger a juicy boar on a silver platter, with a shiny, red apple in its mouth.

But did this man actually have the Queen in his possession, or was this just some empty-handed promise?

Whatever it was, Roger answered the man's question with another question: "I'd say... What's in it for you?"

The stranger shrugged casually and admired the end of his cane. "I'll just sleep better knowing that she's off the streets... and on the executioner's block," he said with tooth-grinding malice.

Roger snorted. The Block... right. Some days he wished Ladybug had lost her head that day. Roger most likely would have been banished for it, but at least he'd be free from all this humiliation.

But to see the Queen of Thieves herself executed by the disgraced captain who had captured her...

The thought was very promising, and Roger couldn't help but picture the pained and embarrassed looks on the other guards' faces. They would beg forgiveness for disrespecting him; grovel for a share in his newfound admiration.

Roger growled to himself. Snap out of it, you moron! This is too good to be true.

He shot the silver-faced man a skeptical look, with a pinch of annoyance for spice. "Do you take me for a fool? Everyone knows the Queen of Thieves cannot be caught."

The stranger stepped closer, and Roger could now see the daunting lines of his silver skull. Complete with the moonlight and shadows, he was more menacing than his generous demeanour suggested.

"Outside her hideout, she can't," he said with a tiger-like rumble in his voice. "But inside, trapped and helpless with nowhere to run... Why, wouldn't that just put a wonderful mark on your tarnished reputation, lieutenant?"

Roger's eyebrows lifted. "Her hideout... The Forty Thieves' hideout?"

Silver gleamed off the man's face as he nodded. "The highest mountain on the edge of the Agrestian Sea, to be precise. The Queen will be none the wiser, especially when you will have an entire squadron of armed men knocking on her doorstep."

"It's getting into the hideout that concerns me," Roger said, his eyes squinting again. "I've heard it's nigh impregnable. What miracle do you possess?"

The stranger's blue eyes gleamed with cunning. "Two words that will make you Agreste's greatest hero," he replied, leaning in closer to whisper. "Open Sesame."

Roger blinked. "You... are sure of this."

"Absolutely. And permit me to ask for one small boon: a private audience with the Queen of Thieves once you have captured her. As a token of our transaction."

Roger knew there was something else other than generosity in this stranger's eyes; something sadistic and foreboding. He knows the Queen, he realized. He wants her dead something fierce. But why?

Oh, what it did matter? The enemy of Roger's enemy was his friend.

The lieutenant sheathed his sword. "Who are you, exactly?" he asked.

The stranger never dropped his smile. Maybe that face really was a skull. "A soldier, of a kind, rather like you," he said with a dark tone. "One who has fallen from grace. And now, I want my wings back."

Several hours earlier...

The last thing he saw was the girl's face, drawn up in shock, and her hand reaching for him.

He barely remembered hitting the water. It hurt so much it knocked him out cold, but only for a brief moment.

It wasn't until he felt the trenches in his lungs filling with freezing salt water that Hawkmoth's eyes snapped open.

Something brushed against him. It felt rubbery and massive, with sharp fins.

But Hawkmoth still had his sword in hand.

There was slashing and splashing, and he burst out of the water as the shark tried to ram him. Hawkmoth had fought far worse, and with far more teeth.

Their fight was more of a wrestle, and it was brief.

And when Hawkmoth crawled onto the beach, gasping for breath, the shark flopped beside him. It was dead.

The swordsman shivered, but it came out as more of a growl; a sign of the cold rage building up inside of him.

The girl had been at his mercy. Her sweet sister was utterly powerless to do anything. Ladybug had the will and ferocity of a hungry panther, but she was as weak as a worm caught in a bird's beak.

So Hawkmoth had been surprised when Ladybug survived the fall off the mountain. In his arrogance, he sought to finish the job.

Turns out, the girl was cleverer and more capable than she appeared.

Hawkmoth stood up on the bank, dripping wet but no less hurt... and he couldn't help but laugh cruelly.

Looks like Ladybug isn't the only one with a lucky streak, he thought.

He looked towards Mount Sesame on the other side of the bay. He wasn't afraid of going up against forty thieves on his own, but he was smart enough to know when to fold in a card game. All he needed was a better hand.

Bridgette had played Hawkmoth, and she only won by the skin of her teeth.

This time, the former King of Thieves was turning the tables.

Enjoy this victory while you can, my old apprentice, Hawkmoth thought as he walked away with a smile of pure vengeance. It will cost you dearly. You and your sister both.