Dismal was Valjean when he awoke next early morn, brooding over his father's death. Fantine, who had been sleeping farther off among the rocky pit, woke up to find her wounds healed and her spirit restored. So she comforted Valjean, till the latter grew slightly more content, and the two got ready to depart for Porthos.
It wasn't even a quarter-way there and Valjean's already pretty thirsty, so he asked Fantine to lend him her water skin. The sun was still ascending, and the day was warm and new; it was not yet the hottest part of the day.
"Drink SPARINGLY, now," she instructed him. The water skin is pretty full with last night's rain water, but it still pained her to watch it slowly sag away. When you're a bounty hunter and having a lack of everything you took for granted in life, you start to grow attached to the little wealth you had. At least, that was what she had learned so far.
Valjean finally finished drinking and exasperated a deep, quenching sigh before he licked his wet lips. He gave the skin back to Fantine.
"Now that I think about it," Fantine mumbled as she tucked the water skin away, "it was a pretty close call last night. We could've died of dehydration and there wouldn't have been any water miles around to save us; you, too." She glanced at the boy, walking slowly next to her. "You shouldn't have come out here, into the desert. You're too young to really die.
Valjean bit his bottom lip. "I wouldn't have followed the chain gang out here if there had been ordinary officers responsible for the three men," he replied bitterly. "But Artemis and Apollodorus were special relations to Prince Vlotheron and his uncle, Lord Beltino."
"They're rulers of Porthos, right? So it was them who sentenced your father to his death?"
"Yes. My father was punished without a trial; it was unjust. If either Artemis or Apollodorous had asked the Prince to reconsider his sentence, neither would ve gotten in serious trouble, AND my father might have been given a proper trial."
Fantine shrugged; the heat of the sun was really soaking on her with every step they took. "You're really close to your father, huh?"
The boy said nothing, but simply turned away: "What do you know?"
Both were stuck in an uncomfortable silence, before Valjean spoke up again:
"Look, I really appreciate you coming to Porthos with me, but I really think you can't give much help. Especially since my father s, like, dead right now." Fantine was half mad, in his mind. A chivalrous bounty hunter? What kind of bullshit was that? And how s that bullshit going to help anything? Go back in time and fight the officers again?
"Kid," said Fantine solemnly: "Even if I didn t meet you on this journey, I would ve gone to Porthos anyway. I had some things to do."
For some reason, neither of them wanted to mention Fantine s promise last night. I will help you, she had told him. We'll go to Porthos tomorrow and demand that your father's name be cleared; I swear it on my honour as a chivalrous bounty hunter! None of them wanted to talk about it; yesterday seemed so long ago.
But deep inside, Fantine still felt like she had to keep that promise which she made on impulse. As a bounty hunter, she thought, it is my duty to ensure that justice is carried out through the lands; if Valjean s father was not given a proper trial, it is against the law to sentence the man to death worst comes to worst, he only stole a loaf of bread.
Though her bones were aching terribly, Fantine forgot all the pain as soon as they reached Porthos. It was a marvelous city! Sweet watermelons juiced down to every penny! There were iced yogurt and delicious cheese frosting! Prettily dyed smocks, softly luminescent shells and beads and small purses stitched by the most delicate hand were being displayed in the shops. The flowers, the tiger lilies and the gentle tulips! The desert butterflies bringing spring into the air! Fantine was so fascinated that she forgot about all the aches she had in her body for a few moments, until the heat, the never-ending heat came back to haunt her.
Valjean, on the other hand, was waiting for Fantine to leave him. He was too polite to ask her to do so.
"Okay, Valjean," Fantine said, at last, to the boy. "Where is your Prince?"
"Prince ?" Valjean was confused. What are you...?"
"I meant what I said before; I m going to ask him about your father and how could he let him be sentenced to death without a proper trial."
Valjean groaned. "Just forget about it, okay?"
"No, I won t," answered Fantine, and her face so serious, you d think that she was speaking to God her father on Judgement Day. "It's unrighteous, that s what. I couldn t save him last night. I shall now compensate by seeking the prevalence of justice, like a proper chivalrous bounty hunter."
Valjean realized the seriousness of the problem.
"Please don t go," he begged. "Oh dear God on his holy throne, please don't go. You don't know what the Prince is. He'll kill you, for Christ s sake. He rules Porthos with an iron arm, and only Lord Beltino have some power opposing his. Why won't you listen?"
"Shame on you boy, your father has been slain, and yet you ask for no justice even at the forfeit of his life."
"Argh! Why won t you listen to me? There IS no chivalrous bounty hunter! All bounty hunters want is money, okay? You don t get any money out of this! So why risk your pitiful life for that? If anything, I will go seek the Prince myself, and I won't trust in the likes of you to move the Prince to clear the name of my father!"
"I must, I must; if there be no chivalrous bounty hunters to take up the burdens of justice, who will? The corrupted ministers, the exploitive knights, or the rotten judges? Listen, boy! There is only one occupation on this whole land that stays true and just: chivalrous bounty hunters. We cultivate a healthy lust for wealth, our desires not bended or restraint by morals, thus our virtues are healthily laced with vice, and ten times glorified than any man trapped in his own warriors code."
"I have no idea what you just said, but it sounds retarded. Could you please give up seeking the prince?"
"Stand aside, boy," scoffed Fantine, and dusted Valjean off as easily as she would a feather. "Excuse me, gentleman," she nodded toward a man cladded with black garments, who was perusing a book next to the book stand with keen interest. "Could you please tell me where I can find the Prince of Porthos?"
The man clasped his book shut, and examined Fantine carefully. "I've forgotten a long time ago where the quarters of the Prince lies in this city."
"Please, don't try to remember," said Valjean, suddenly grasping Fantine by her wrist. "It's quite okay."
The man sighed: "No, I can never remember. Man's brains are fickle. I can only trust what is displayed on parchment." With this he produced a city map and pored over its contents, searching for the Prince's quarters. "So what business do you have with the Prince?"
"If you must know," answered Fantine, thinking about the eloquence of a chivalrous bounty hunter, "I got a bone to pick with the pussy."
The man looked at Fantine, oddly this time. "Oh? And what bone is that?"
"Humph! Yesternight I met up with three men, who were sentenced to death without a trial for light crimes. I thought it was unjust and stepped in to persuade the two guarding officers to take the prisoners back, but they listened to me none. Thus, I will have to speak with the dipshit of a Prince myself."
"And...what are you to talk with the Prince?"
Fantine straightened herself with pride. "I am a chivalrous bounty hunter."
Valjean tugged at her arm. "Fantine ! Hsst! Fantine! Please stop talking. Like now."
Fantine laughed. "Nay, boy, I will never cease unless the Prince himself comes to me."
"Well, you can stop talking now," a deep voice boomed behind them. Fantine turned around while Valjean face palmed himself. There was a man, mounted on a fair stallion, with splendid purple robes and polished leather boots. His new lizard skin gloves grasped the bridles of the horse, a thin gold band encircling his head. A train of attendants were close behind him, his cousin Artemis on a handsome black stallion next to his, and Apollodorous close at his heels.
It was Prince Vletheron, no doubt, no doubt.