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Good day or good evening, ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to the eighth chapter of On The Wings Of An Eagle!
Three hundred reviews. I managed to break the three-hundred-review-barrier with the first story I ever published on this website. Wow. Thank you, thank you from the bottom of my heart to all those who reviewed, and to the thousands of other readers who silently read this far.
You have no idea how happy all of you have made me. I'll do my very best to keep entertaining you with this stories, the others I'm working on, and the ones I will write in the future. You're a great audience, because you're supportive, but also because you don't let me get away with all of my mistakes, or question what I'm writing. Thank you.
Now, about the chapter… Erm. Oh dear. Well, it's short.
I know what you're about to say once you're done reading through this, ladies and gentlemen: filler chapter. And unfortunately, you'd be right. I have a good reason for that, though, and it's called 'Writer's Block.' Such an innocent expression, yet so very fitting. You're blocked, with no idea what to do. A very unsettling feeling, to be sure. And I had to start studying again, en force.
I was unsure how to make the transition from Academy to the city of Tristain and have it fit into the story. Honestly, I had no bloody clue – my mind was like a blank page. So I decided to write other things (some of you will perhaps have noticed the suspicious updates to my other stories) in an effort to clear it, but it didn't really work.
So I decided to just start writing, to get it over and done with, basically. Perhaps not the best attitude when you're trying to write well, but I did what I could. So there's some humour where I make fun of Guiche, some exposition on Louise's family, some warm friendship moments between Ezio and Louise, some conversation… it wasn't exactly pointless, per se, but it's still inferior to what I wanted to write. Very frustrating.
In the end, I decided to publish what I had instead of having you wait for another month until I had the next story arc properly planned out and written. It may be filler, but if nothing else, I think it's well-written filler. That's for you to decide, though.
Still, I hope that you liked this small interlude – the title of the chapter is incredibly fitting, funnily enough – despite its nature as a stop-gap and being slightly shorter than my usual fare. If you liked it, thank you for being so patient and understanding. If you disliked anything about it, feel free to tell me.
Please, enjoy yourself while reading this story, and whether you liked or disliked it, be kind enough to leave a review. I hope you have as much fun reading it as I had writing it.
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On The Wings Of An Eagle
Chapter VIII – Intermezzo
…
The week after Fouquet's attack was one of the busiest of Louise's life.
One of the reasons for it was that for the first three days after the attack, the commoners and nobles were busy burying the dead. It was a long-established tradition for Brimir's faithful to be buried within three days of their death or sooner, and commoners and nobles alike found themselves digging graves and attending impromptu services to grieve for their dead.
"Keep my soul in peace near you, Lord."
The monk leading the ceremony bowed his head as he led the small group surrounding the shallow grave, lifting the small bell in his hand and ringing it once, the bright clear sound sounding clearly across the field. It was just outside the Academy walls, and had been hastily converted to be the city's new graveyard. The other one was already crowded.
"When I cry for you, Lord, answer me, Lord, my eternal justice!"
The monk rang his bell again as Louise watched a few burly commoners carefully lower the crudely-made casket into the ground. As soon as it reached the bottom, they quickly doffed their caps, bowing their heads.
Eternal justice, Louise thought. There hadn't been any justice to Katie's death, had there? She shuddered quietly. It could have easily been me.
In fact, she was sure that if Agnès and Henrietta hadn't jumped to protect her, she would have been the one to lie under a boulder, crushed and nearly unrecognizable. Louise threw a quick glance at the small group assembled around the hole in the ground. She wondered if anyone would have attended her funeral.
"You who saves me from my peril," the monk continued solemnly, "Take pity on me, and listen to my prayer."
Kirche and Tabitha were there, standing slightly off from the main gaggle of Katie's friends that tried vainly to support each other in their grief. For once, the small bookworm held no tome or scroll in her hand, instead bowing her head and stoically studying the casket below. The Germanian looked unusually gloomy without her usual teasing smile on her lips, as if she had become an entirely different person.
Guiche and Montmorency were there as well, standing very close to each other as they awkwardly held hands. Both said nothing as they listened to the monk's psalm. Montmorency looked tired and weary, probably from helping tirelessly in the hospital during the last three days, while Guiche looked as if a breeze could knock him over, shivering as he stood there, still bandaged and recovering. His face was blank and he looked lost, as if he didn't really know what to say or do.
"Many of us asked: 'Founder, who will bring us happiness?'"
That was a good question, actually. She had seen far too little happiness these last few days. Too many burials.
She glanced to her right, and saw Ezio stand silently by her side, eagle-beaked hood drawn over his eyes. Unlike the others, he hadn't bowed his head and folded his hands in prayer. Rather, his arms were crossed as he silently watched the proceedings.
Ezio noticed her glance and gave her a small crooked smile. The expression looked a bit strange on him, now, considering the thickly growing scab on the corner of his mouth, but it fit him, for some reason she couldn't quite understand. He looked more comfortable with the ugly wound than without it.
The monk raised his arms wide, his expression grave. "For Catherine-Isabelle de Gayarre, who has found the peace of the Lord; Lord, we pray to thee."
"Lord in Heaven, listen to our prayer," they mumbled in answer.
"Catherine," the monk continued solemnly, "you will remain in our memory, your smile and your fortitude will accompany us forever; for that, Lord, we pray to thee."
"Lord in Heaven, listen to our prayer."
Louise quietly scoffed to herself. While the monk may have meant well, he had never known Katie. She had never been called 'Catherine' by anyone in school, whether teacher or student. Hearing these kind words out of the monk's mouth when he had never known her as anything other than a corpse to be buried was… unsettling, for lack of a better word.
But then again, Louise reflected, I never really knew her either, did I? She was always just… there. Along with all the others.
In a way, this was a horrible way for Katie's life to be commemorated – with the exception of a few of her friends from school, no one here really knew Katie, and her family had been unable to visit the Academy in time for her funeral, their estates being too far away for a fast trip to the Academy. Perhaps it was for the best: they would remember their daughter and sister as the pretty girl she had been in life, instead of the crushed corpse she had become.
Louise huffed out a humourless laugh. Katie would have to accept the Zero at her funeral, as measly and non-existent a friend as she may have been to her.
"For that the light of hope may break through the darkness of our sorrow, Lord, we pray to thee."
"Lord in Heaven, listen to our prayer."
"Founder, you who led us through the deserted lands, you who forged a path for us when we were lost, you who gave us hope when there was none, you who protected us when we were weak, please take this young soul under your wing and lead her to the peace and rest that she deserves, in His merciful presence and His glory. For that, Lord, we pray to thee."
"Lord in Heaven, listen to our prayer."
"Amen."
"Amen," Louise whispered. To her, the word seemed like a final pronouncement – it meant that Katie was gone now, never to return.
It was anticlimactic, really. She had expected death to be different. More meaningful.
A moment later, the monk lowered his arms and nodded to his helpers. The men put their caps back on, grabbed their shovels and dutifully began filling up the hole in the ground. Two minutes later, there was only a rectangular patch of dark, upturned earth amongst the green grass and a small cross at its head that indicated the presence of a grave. The monk had already left, moving over to the next group of mourners. He still had work to do.
Louise, however, hadn't moved from her place, studying the wooden cross with Katie's full, unfitting name on it. It had rained last night, and the earth smelled fresh and muddied, clogging her nose. She couldn't help but wonder whether her grave would look similar.
She heard Ezio shift beside her, the soft hiss of boots on wet grass and the creak of leather as he unfolded his arms. "Piccina," he muttered. "We should go."
"...Do you think anyone will visit my funeral?" she asked bluntly. She snapped her mouth shut immediately afterwards, wondering what had possessed her to ask that question.
Ezio chuckled to himself, clapping a large hand on her shoulder. "That's not a question you should ask, Louise," he chided. "You're far too young for it."
"So was Katie," Louise bit out, glaring at him.
His smile faded, but his black eyes never lost their warmth. "True," he conceded. "And so was I, when my parents and brothers died."
"Really?" she asked, raising a sceptical eyebrow. "What did you do?"
"I learned to ask myself a different question, long after they were gone." He smirked at her. "It was this: do I regret anything that I have done in my life?"
"Well, do you?"
"Many things," he admitted. "Some large, some small. But I lived my life well." He laughed, thumbing her cheek in a gesture that reminded her of an older uncle teasing his favourite niece. "Well, you gave me a second one, didn't you? Let's see if I'll regret anything this time." He patted her cheek, making her scowl, but then he just turned around with an amused smirk and marched back towards the Academy.
"H-hey! Don't you just walk away from me like that!" she yelled, storming off after him.
He just laughed out loud, grinning at her over his shoulder and waving. "Andiamo, Louise! There's still work to be done!"
Louise marched after him, berating him for his familiarity while he poked fun at her, but for some reason, the world didn't feel quite as dreary as just a moment ago.
And Ezio had a point. There was, indeed, still work to be done.
…
The first three days after Academy City burned down had been incredibly tiring, even for someone with as high a tolerance for fatigue and pain as Ezio. Along with dozens of other mages, students, and commoners, he had entered the burned-out city to comb the ruins for anyone that might have been left alive or merely wounded. Unsurprisingly, it was a wasted effort – the fire, abnormal heat, and noxious fumes had killed anyone that hadn't already escaped the city's walls.
A wet handkerchief wrapped around his mouth and nose, Ezio walked along the city's streets. There were a few people lying still in the streets, trampled in the stampede as people had tried to escape, and as soon as they entered the burned-down districts of the town, they were only able to find charred bodies, their limbs twisted in grotesque ways as the incredible heat had forced the humidity from their bodies like a wrung towel. Most of them were unrecognizable.
In a way, Ezio reflected, the ones that had died at the hospital were lucky. They would be buried under their own name, not in a mass grave.
Unsurprisingly, the main Academy building had fared best against the fire. Colbert had explained that the Academy walls themselves had been imbued with numerous spells to make them near indestructible, and they had successfully held off the flames.
However, that didn't mean the Academy had escaped unscathed. Fouquet's golem had destroyed one side of the main nave, the centuries-old façade with all its beautiful statues, arches, and gargoyles now nothing more than a tapestry of holes large and small. The Vestri Court was littered with crushed bodies, and Ezio, Louise, and the teachers and commoners spent their time sifting through the rubble to find whoever they still could. Some of the bodies were still recognizable, others weren't.
After only a few moments of doing this, Louise got up, walked to the side, and unceremoniously threw up. Ezio nearly followed her until he saw her sway back to her feet and return, teeth gritted, to help him lift a rock from a prone, unmoving figure. He just smiled faintly to himself, not saying anything.
The Academy's dormitories had been damaged as well, but lightly so, if only because Fouquet had attacked from the main nave's other side. At first, Ezio expected Louise to return there to sleep, but she briskly packed her bags and asked him to scrounge up a tent for them. Soon, they were camped out on the fields outside the city's walls, along with everyone else. When Ezio asked his little mistress why, she scowled and said that it would be easier to help someone if they were closer. He never mentioned it again.
After three days of hard, unrelenting work, the streets and courtyard of the Academy had been cleared of bodies and the greatest rubble, and once the funerals were over, people began to retrieve everything of use and worth from their destroyed homes. Numerous caravans of supplies arrived in the next few days, sent by the grieving parents of the dead students and those nobles who simply wished to help, bringing food, building materials, and workmen to rebuild the Academy while healers rushed from the capital and surrounding monasteries to help the wounded.
Henrietta had had no other choice but to return to the capital the day after the attack – her ill mother and station had demanded it – but she had promised all the assistance the Royal House of Tristain could offer. It arrived in the form in a squadron of Griffin Knights that took to the task of hunting down bandits and orcs in the countryside with bloodthirsty enthusiasm. Ezio watched the great creatures as they flew about in the sky above, fascinated.
Once the repairs were underway, the dead buried, and the recovering wounded settled, Louise realized that she had nothing to do. Classes had been summarily cancelled until further notice by Old Osmond, and rumours flew around the camp that Osmond would close down the Academy for a few months until it was serviceable again.
And so here Ezio was, standing in a field outside the encampment and watching carefully as Guiche was driven to the ground by the point of a wooden stick slamming into his diaphragm. He shook his head as the teen collapsed bonelessly, heaving for breath, his instructor sighing in exasperation. "Get up, Ser Gramont!" he called out sternly.
The only answer he received was an unintelligible gargle, and Ezio rolled his eyes, marching over and hauling the blond noble to his feet by his uniform's collar. "Oh, get used to it," he said flatly, no sympathy in his voice. "You had far too many openings there – if she had wanted to, Louise could have taken your eye, or worse."
"Really?" Louise asked, doubt in her voice as she examined her stance. "I only did the first thing that came to mind."
"And it was the right thing to so," he praised her, shooting her a quick grin. "A well-done finishing blow. Still sloppy, but it'll kill anyone that doesn't know his way around a sword. Your instincts are improving."
"What… am I… doing wrong?" the youth wheezed, trying hard not to sway where he stood. His eyes, however, hadn't lost any of their fierce determination.
"You're too rooted," Ezio chastised him, picking up Guiche's training sword and handing it to him, correcting his stance. "A swordsman does not take blows head on. He is always on the move, evading, parrying, countering his foe's attacks, all until he can land a finishing blow. If you stand as hard as a rock, someone is going to break through sooner or later, even if it's only a lucky blow.
"Louise!" he ordered, assuming his own stance, blade raised in a horizontal guard and light on his feet. "Attack me!"
Louise groaned, but did as she was asked, charging him with a lunge and a yell. Ezio had already leapt backwards, easily evading the next few blows with swift footwork. He didn't even raise his own training sword until he beat the flat of the wooden stick against her knee in a sudden counter, driving her to the ground.
"See?" he lectured a gaping Guiche. "I didn't even use my sword to evade her attacks. Think of water. Flow around the enemy instead of having him crash into you. When you face a rockslide, you don't brave it out – you get out of its way."
Louise's eyebrow twitched as she got back on her feet, wobbling. "Ezio, do you enjoy beating me to a pulp? I just happen to be curious."
"No, piccina," he answered with an easy grin, patting her cheek affectionately. "But you've been beating Ser Gramont into a lovely blue shade of bruises during all of our recent training sessions. Turnaround is fair play, no? Now!" he said loudly, stepping back. "Another bout!"
Louise grinned as she assumed the stance Ezio had taught, smiling sweetly at Guiche. "Actually, I think I know why you do it – it's fun hitting him, isn't it?"
Guiche's face fell as he pointed his training sword at her. "How harsh! Your words wound me, Vallière!"
"Begin!" Ezio called out, and Guiche yelped as Louise charged, ducking under a swing that would have easily crushed his throat. "The hell!" he swore, jumping back to avoid a lunge at his leg. Louise just grinned as she kept up the attack.
Ezio laughed. "If you have time to fight; fight, don't talk!"
Louise followed up her first furious swings with a series of sharp jabs, and instead of trying to block every single one of Louise's strikes as he had before, Guiche tried to dodge her attacks, cursing all the while. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn't.
Ezio smiled faintly as he watched the spar. Whoever had taught Guiche how to swing a sword had obviously never fought in a real battle. His style had been all flashy waving and parrying – and while these had their place in a skilled fencer's hands, using them exclusively was foolish. Parrying was tiring on the arms; dodging was easier.
Thankfully enough, these flaws were easily corrected. After all, the human mind was rather accepting of the idea of not getting thwacked upside the head with a stick. Once that was ingrained, all that was left to be done was running his students through the regular drills and giving them as much experience as possible by fighting skilled swordsmen.
Of course, Louise wasn't exactly 'skilled' in any sense of the word, considering the amateurish way she swung her own weapon against Guiche, but she had a few weeks' training over her classmate and absolutely no compunctions about fighting dirty after sparring against Ezio one too many times.
For the time being, it would have to do.
"Monsieur Auditore?"
Ezio blinked, tearing his eyes away from his two students, and saw one of the Academy's servants stand at a respectful distance behind him. "Yes?"
"The headmaster has asked Professor Colbert to make an important announcement," the servant said quickly, looking rather nervous. "He bade us servants to round up the students. If you could inform your mistress at your leisure…"
Ezio cocked an eyebrow at the increasingly flustered man, intrigued. "Why don't you tell her yourself, mio amico? She's right there, no?"
The servant winced, looking distinctly uncomfortable. "Well, yes, but… she's rather scary, you know."
"…Mi scusi?"
"Didn't you hear the rumours? Apparently she was the one who destroyed Fouquet's golem." The man shivered, glancing hurriedly past Ezio at Louise. "Wouldn't want to get in the way of that girl, I'm sure. Now, if you'll excuse me, Our Sword, I have to tell the other students…"
And with that the servant made his excuses and his exit as quickly as he could. Ezio just stared after him for a moment, gaping. Louise, tiny, insecure little spitfire Louise with her temper indirectly proportional to her size was supposed to be terrifying? He found the idea ludicrous.
As ludicrous as the idea of a commoner killing a mage, and the people of Halkeginia seemed loath to believe that one so easily. And Louise had indeed destroyed Fouquet's golem, though she couldn't explain how.
Ezio shook his head to clear it, frowning. This wasn't what Louise wanted, contrary to what she said out loud. She wanted to be respected and acknowledged, certainly, but she also wanted to be included. It was obvious from the way she hung around him when she had the chance, or the little smiles she wore when he was bantering with Guiche, even though she tried to stay annoyed for propriety's sake. Even when she was exchanging insults with Kirche, she seemed more alive than when she simply sat around on her own, reading or sulking. She hated being alone.
But fear wasn't something that would convince people to break bread with her.
Ezio sighed. Che fastidio. Unfortunately, he had other things to worry about. He'd cross that bridge when he came to it.
He turned around, whistling sharply. Immediately, both Guiche and Louise stopped trying to hit each other. Ezio noticed with approval that the blond noble had received fewer bruises than in his other bouts – apparently, he was already taking the lesson to heart.
Ezio clapped his hands together, smirking. "Basta! Enough for today!"
"Already?" Louise demanded, looking rather put out. Guiche, on the other hand, clasped his hands in a small prayer of thanks to the heavens, muttering under his breath in relief all the while.
"Old Osmond and professore Colbert have some sort of proclamation to make," Ezio answered, shrugging. "It seemed important."
"That's strange," Louise commented as she threw her practice weapon at him, which he caught one-handed. "He's never done that before."
"Admittedly, Vallière," Guiche said with a groan, limping over and generally looking like death warmed over – even though his broken arm had been healed by Sister Catherine only yesterday, he still moved sluggishly, wincing at his numerous bruises and cuts he'd received, "well, wasn't it usually Mademoiselle Longueville that relayed the headmaster's decisions to the students?"
"It was, wasn't it?" Louise said, frowning.
Ezio snorted as they made their way back into the camp, amused. "I, for one, wouldn't be surprised if he worked himself to death on the paperwork these last few days without her help. Perhaps that's what the announcement is about?"
"Very funny," Louise snapped, glaring at him. "Haven't enough people died already?"
Ezio grinned cheekily at her. "I once had a friend called Bartolomeo, you know. Compared to some of his jokes, mine are positively tame."
"Really?" Guiche asked, trying not to sound too interested. "What kind of jo— oof!"
Louise drew back her elbow from his battered ribs, giving him the evil eye. "Do you want me to tell Montmorency about the trouble you're getting yourself into?"
"Have mercy, Vallière," the youth whimpered, nursing his side.
Louise nodded, satisfied. "That's what I thought." She suddenly stopped dead, staring. "Good Founder, why are there so many people here?!"
Ezio followed Louise's eyes, and soon they found what had Louise so flummoxed: the large open space in the centre of the camp that had been left clear as an open space for meetings and to accommodate the Griffin Knights returning from their patrols, was now packed with people, their worried mutters and mumbling creating a hubbub like that that of an angered hive of bumblebees. Nearly all of them were students, some of which were still bandaged, a few missing arms or legs and supported by their friends and the assorted servants – apparently it took money, rare ingredients, and an incredibly skilled square-class water mage to regrow limbs, and few noble families wielded enough power and influence to procure enough of all three.
Ezio looked them over with a critical eye. The injured seemed pale and weak, but Sister Catherine had taken better care of them than most surgeons back in his home would have, considering they were sometimes no better than apprenticed carpenters and butchers.
The children here were lucky, he thought. They would be crippled, yes, but they would survive. That was better than many could have hoped for with such grievous injuries in his home – many unfortunate victims of amputation (there was no better word, really, even though it was meant to save their lives) on the battlefield of warring Italy would have died of fever, blood loss, shock, or infection within weeks, perhaps even days. Drugging them to live out their last days in a clouded haze was sometimes the kinder mercy.
Not for the first time, Ezio watched with sharp eyes at a student whose hand had been utterly crushed by a falling boulder, waving the already cleanly healed stump of his wrist around as he chatted animatedly with his friends. The Florentine shook his head, silently amazed. Magic never stopped to surprise him.
He spotted Professor Colbert at the other end of the crowd, standing there with his usual calm dignity. The tall mage stood there, staff held in one hand and a scroll in the other. Ezio's sharp eyes picked up a red blob splotched on its centrefold, though he was unable to make out details from this far out… A seal?
After the last students had finally trickled in from across the encampment (Ezio spotted a few familiar faces on another end of the crowd, exchanging quick nods with Tabitha and winking back at Kirche's blown kiss, much to Louise's annoyance), Colbert slammed the butt of his staff into the ground and spoke a loud word that Ezio didn't understand, raising a small podium of packed earth. The teacher climbed the makeshift stairs, facing the assembled students and when the chattering continued unabashed, he loudly cleared his throat.
He immediately had everyone's attention – few students were stupid enough to ignore a man that they had seen conjure snakes of flame hot enough to melt rock, and those who were were quickly shushed by their less suicidal friends.
"Ladies and gentlemen, esteemed students," Colbert began, suddenly looking rather nervous as he stood in front of the whole school with all its students staring up at him. This was far more difficult than teaching his usual class.
"Er… oh dear, I'm not used to this…" He sheepishly coughed into his sleeve. "Er, yes. Ignore that, please. Erm… I am here on behalf of the headmaster of our school." He somewhat desperately brandished the scroll in his hand. "I need an impartial volunteer to verify the seal, please!"
One student was pushed forwards by his peers, and soon reluctantly confirmed that the wax seal on the scroll was indeed that of Old Osmond. Colbert hurriedly broke the seal, unfurled the scroll and loudly cleared his throat, assuming the boring, droning voice he usually called on when reading from a particularly thick book during his lectures.
"The Earl of Osmond, Headmaster of the illustrious Tristain Academy of Magic by the Grace of God, His Founder, and the appointment of His Majesty King Henry the Third of the Noble House of Tristain, Rightful Ruler of the Kingdom of Tristain and Defender of the Brimirian Faith," Colbert warbled, dutifully reciting the deceased monarch's long list of titles, "hereby declares that lectures at our noble institution of learning to be… discontinued until further notice?!" he bit out, his eyes widening in sudden shock as whispers exploded around him.
"Ten écu that Old Osmond never told il professore before the official announcement," Ezio whispered to Louise out of the corner of his mouth.
The little mage snorted. "No bet."
Ezio just grinned, amused. Oh, his little mistress was learning.
Colbert continued to read once he had retrieved the glasses that had fallen off his nose, though he otherwise hid his anger at his headmaster's antics very well, the only sign being his shaking fingers as they tightly gripped the scroll. Ezio pricked his ears, trying to understand the stilted, archaic French used by the headmaster, deciphering it bit by bit.
It was just as people had whispered behind their hands, hoping it wouldn't come true: the Academy would be closed for a few months until the damages by Fouquet could be repaired. After a long list of flowery condolences, the headmaster implored the students to return home to their families.
"—signed, the Earl of Osmond, Headmaster of the Tristain Academy of Magic. Now, if you would all excuse me for a moment!" Colbert rolled up the scroll, his face unusually pale and serene. He stepped off his conjured podium a moment later, storming off towards Old Osmond's tent before any of the dismayed students could ask any questions.
"Think he's going to set fire to the old bastardo's robes?" Ezio asked idly as the expected brouhaha broke out amongst the students, who all seemed unsure what to do next.
"Ezio!" Louise hissed, elbowing him in the ribs. "That's not funny!"
"Yes, yes, it is," he gritted out through clenched teeth, clutching his side. The flesh still felt tender, even though Henrietta had assured him that his cracked ribs had already fully healed. His body seemed to be convinced otherwise, though, considering that pain still lanced through him on occasion.
"…I forgot about that," Louise mumbled, looking away in sudden guilt. "Are you alright?"
"Meraviglioso," he muttered, rolling his eyes. "Are you planning to return home to your family, Louise?"
"…Not really," the small mage said evasively, refusing to meet his eyes. "I'm sure there are better things I could do. Like studying, or reading, or…"
Ezio frowned at her. "Che cosa? Why wouldn't you want to go home, Louise?"
"Does it really matter?"
"Of course it does! That sister you told me so much about, what was her name again… Cattleya, no? You seem fond of her. Won't she miss you, piccina?"
Louise glanced away, unwilling to look up at his reproachful expression. "…It's really none of your damn business, is it?!" she suddenly exploded, storming away from him and disappearing in the throng of students returning to their tents.
Ezio stared after her, stunned. If his eyes had been any less sharp, he might have convinced himself that they were playing tricks on him, but there was no doubt in his mind that Louise had just tried very hard not to break out in tears.
He cursed violently, throwing his sparring weapons at a yelping Guiche, who fumbled to catch them before they clattered to the ground. "Ser Ezio!" he called out after the Florentine Assassin as the man marched after his little mistress. "What shall I do?"
"Pack your bags, ragazzo!" Ezio shouted over his shoulder, not really caring about the youth's troubles right now. "Are you not going home yourself?"
And then he left him standing there and gaping, hunting grimly after the little girl he'd grown so attached to.
…
Finding her was easy enough. But admittedly, Louise hadn't really tried to stay hidden, either. She had simply run away from him as fast as she could.
He found her soon enough near a large pond outside the city of tents, sitting silently amongst the gnarled roots of an old tree on its shores. Her knees were drawn under her chin, and her expression was hidden by her hair falling over her eyes.
Ezio slowed his steps, trying to think of the best way to handle this. The Assassins had often taken in orphans from the streets or got handed children wrapped in rough cloths, their destitute parents begging them to take in the child and raise it better than they would ever be able to. And so Ezio had raised many of these children, teaching both boys and girls how to read, to write, to count, to climb, to fight, to kill…
His lips quirked in a fond smile as he remembered. And since they were children, there were often tears and tantrums as they argued amongst each other. Ezio had spent many an evening playing the peacemaker when their little spats got out of hand.
But this was different. Louise was not one of his novices. She already had a family, even though it was one that she rarely talked about. She seemed to love her eldest sister, and sometimes spoke of her father and other sibling with some fondness, but she never mentioned her mother. Ezio hadn't pried any further – it was her own business, after all – but it was now obvious that something bothered her.
He stepped up to Louise, quietly tapping her shoulder. She only hid her face in her knees, drawing them closer and refusing to look up. "Go 'way."
The Assassin sighed, reaching into his pocket and held out a handkerchief. Louise didn't take it. Ezio shrugged, dropped the small square of cloth on her frail shoulder and then walked down to the edge of the water, picking up a small stone. It wasn't exactly the right shape, but perhaps…
It danced once, twice, thrice across the surface of the pond before it sank with a light plopping sound, the still water suddenly lighting up with many ripples, the trees reflected in its mirrored surface becoming murky and shaded.
Ezio nodded, reassured that he hadn't lost his touch. When they had been younger, Federico had sometimes taken him to the countryside, and they had spent hours hunting small animals through the brush, camping in a pretty clearing when it took their fancy, fishing at a lake or simply skipping stones, taking about anything and everything.
He picked up another stone, weighing it in his palm. Heavier. This one didn't skip when he threw it, dropping straight to the bottom with a splash that tore apart the silence.
Ezio idly picked up another stone, this time a more rounded pebble with a grainy surface—
"You're not going to stop, are you?" Louise asked crossly, her voice heavy.
Ezio smirked, not turning around. Federico had always known when something bothered his little brother.
"Not really," he answered calmly. "I have to do something, or I might just get bored." With a deft twist of the wrist, the pebble flew, skipping twice before it disappeared in a small fountain of brightly lit water.
"…And you couldn't just leave me alone?" Louise spoke up after a moment.
"Not when I know that something is bothering you, piccina."
"Why?" Louise asked bitterly. "Do you pity me?"
Ezio snorted, throwing up another small stone in his palm and catching it just as easily. "Pity you? Don't talk nonsense, Louise. I'm your familiar, vero? Your partner, your friend. Is that not reason enough for me to worry?"
Louise said nothing, and Ezio just threw the small stone, watching it skip once on the water and land into the weeds on the other side of the pond. He could wait.
He heard a loud sigh behind him. "My mother is… strict," Louise said quietly. "Strict and demanding. She wasn't born a high-ranking noble, but she worked hard for all her power and success. My father, then the first son of a duke of Tristain, met her on the battlefield and admired her for her courage. He asked her to marry her right then and there – fell on his knee, bowed his head, the whole business – and she accepted. A story right out of an old fairy tale."
"…They are happy?"
Louise barked out a laugh. "In a sense. They complement each other well. Three children are proof enough of love, don't you think?"
Ezio wisely kept his peace, picking up another stone. He'd met many married couples with children who were unhappy, the husband often leaving to keep a mistress company, or the wife finding a lover to rekindle the passion that her marriage had lost long ago. His parents had been happily married, true, but rare were the noble families whose scions married for love alone. Love was considered the by-product of marriage, not its cause.
"My mother is a brilliant mage," Louise continued, bitterness creeping into her voice again. "It's an undeniable fact; just ask any yob in the street if they've heard of Karin the Heavy Wind; they'll talk your ears off with their praise. Before my sister grew ill, Cattleya was well on her way to become square-class herself, and Éléonore – well, she can use her element unlike anyone I've ever seen. Bloody geniuses, the lot of them."
"You don't sound particularly happy," Ezio noted.
"Should I be happy, Ezio?" She laughed again, no mirth in her voice. "Now imagine this: me, poor, frail little Louise, unable to even use the most basic of spells, a spectacular failure with any style of magic you care to name, a Zero," she spat out, her voice filled with self-loathing. "Mother tried everything: tutors, private lessons, she even brought in healers to see whether I was crippled or ill, but nothing helped.
"Then, one beautiful day," Louise continued, her voice dripping with sarcasm, "she decided to send me to the Academy. She walked into my room, told me to pack my bags, and only to return when I had proven I was worthy to carry the name of Vallière. That was two years ago. I haven't been back home since. The Rule of Steel, that's what she calls it."
Ezio's hand stilled, his arm stretched out in its throwing motion. "So you cannot go home," he said slowly.
"No, not really," Louise said bitterly. "Mother won't allow it. The Academy is my home, whether I like it or not. And now I have to leave it as well! Can you tell me where I am supposed to go, Ezio? Because I have no idea."
Ezio dropped the stone back onto the shore, sighing. "…There's a saying in my country."
"Really?" she asked sardonically, her voice biting. "Do tell!"
"It goes like this." Ezio cleared his throat. "La casa è dove si trova il cuore."
"…And what does that mean, pray?"
He turned around, smiling weakly at her. "Home is where the heart is."
"Well, isn't that incredibly useful," Louise said, glaring at him over her knees with red-rimmed eyes. "And how does that help me, exactly?"
Ezio shifted uncomfortably. He hadn't really planned on asking this, but he now realized that he didn't really have a choice in the matter. "…Louise, do you want to come with me to the city?"
She started in surprise, and he cursed himself for being so blunt. He had originally planned on getting Louise home to her family and then leave to get to the city on his own, but that seemed impossible now.
Louise sat up straight, watching him warily. "…Why go to the city?"
Ezio just grinned lopsidedly at her. "I think the question should rather be 'Why not go the city,' piccina. The people, the shops, the sights… It should be fun, no?"
"Any real reason besides sightseeing?" Louise said, rolling her eyes.
Ezio shrugged, unashamed of her spotting his ulterior motive, or at least some of it. "My armour is damaged, and I need to get it repaired. Agnès recommended an acquaintance of hers to me."
Louise scowled. "I don't like Agnès," she mumbled into her knees, looking down at her toes angrily. "She wanted to leave you to die."
"As she should have," he said calmly, earning himself an annoyed glare. "Her duty was to protect sua altezza reale, after all, not rescue foolhardy climbers like me."
"I still don't understand how you can be so cavalier about someone leaving you to die," Louise grumbled. "I know I wouldn't be."
"She had a good reason?" he offered mildly, smirking at her glower. "Ah, aren't you the most innocent thing, Louise. It's endearing, truly."
"Oh, shut up already!" she snapped angrily, cheeks flaming. "So you want to find an armourer, I understand. Anything else?"
For a moment, Ezio debated telling her about the voices he had heard when he'd touched the Staff of Destruction; of Desmond, Connor, and those unknown others who had whispered in his mind. He finally settled on the lesser truth she would actually believe. "…Fouquet left me with a message."
Louise looked up, her eyes suddenly sharp. "Fouquet left you a message? Before she died, you mean?"
Ezio nodded seriously, crossing his arms. "The name of an establishment in the capital called the 'Fairies' Inn', or something similar. She told me to look for a man named Roberto."
"And what will us searching for this mystery man accomplish, exactly?" Louise asked sceptically.
Ezio shrugged. "I have no idea." He grinned at her. "Care to accompany me and find out?" As Louise's forehead scrunched up in thought, he smirked shrewdly. "Besides, you can neither stay here, nor go home. Is there really anywhere else you could go?"
"So, let's just go poke at the associates of a dead renegade mage and see what happens?" Louise demanded, raising an eyebrow. "Talk about setting about a hornet's nest."
"But it does sound like it would make for an interesting adventure, no?"
"…What the hell." Louise sighed, smiling faintly at him. "As you said, there's really nothing else for me to do, is there?"
The Florentine chuckled. "Good! We're decided, then! Now," he said, walking over and hauling the surprised girl to her feet by the hand with a small yelp, "wipe your eyes, piccina, and then pack your things! We're leaving early tomorrow!"
Louise glared at him with narrowed eyes. "I was not crying."
"I never said you were," Ezio said airily, though his smirk was answer enough about his true thoughts on the matter. "But still, all that dampness on your cheeks is worrying. You should stay away from the pond, Louise; you might just fall in, no?"
"Smarmy, annoying, two-sous-worthless git," she muttered under her breath as she grabbed the rough handkerchief lying on her shoulder. Ezio picked up another small pebble as she cleaned her reddening face, smirking in the shadow of his mask as he heard her mumble angrily under her breath. Try as she might act like an adult, Louise was still a child.
He threw once more, and this time the stone skipped further across the widest stretch of the pond, rippling the water and making the light on its surface dance.
…
"Look, piccina," Ezio said, growing more exasperated by the minute. "It's not that difficult."
"Says you!" Louise complained, shooting him a glare. "That thing is huge! How the hell am I meant to climb up on it?"
Ezio rolled his eyes, grabbing her foot before she could complain any more. "Like this. Foot in the stirrup, hand on the pommel, and push!" With a small squeak, Louise was suddenly lifted in the air by a hand on her behind. She swung her leg over the horse's back by reflex alone, unwilling to fall down. Again. It had been embarrassing enough the first time, not to mention the second and third.
Ezio handed her the reins, grinning. "E voilà! Worked well enough, no?"
Louise glowered down at him from the saddle. Even though she was for once taller than him, she didn't exactly seem to enjoy the experience. "Sometimes, I really, really loathe you, Ezio."
"Don't tell me you've never ridden a horse before," Ezio asked reproachfully.
"Of course I have!" she said indignantly. "But that was years ago, on my mother's estate! And those were ponies, not these… four-legged behemoths!"
The horse shifted at her shrill tone, making her squeak as her foot nearly slipped out of the stirrup. Ezio reached out and patted the horse's cheek. "There, there," he muttered soothingly, calming the miffed animal. "Ignore the silly little girl. She didn't mean it, mia amica, I promise."
"Ezio!"
"Stop shouting, Louise, or you might just scare it into running away at full gallop," the Assassin chided with a small grin. Louise's mouth immediately snapped shut, though her glare remained as strong as ever. Ezio ignored her temper, as he usually did. "Now, I'll get my own things ready, and then we'll leave, bene? Be gentle on the reins!"
He presumed that Louise would have loved nothing more than to harangue him as he left her to fend by herself on that gigantic horse, but the fear of the mighty animal galloping away on its own stalled all her attempts. So she kept glaring at him impotently.
The horse threw back its head, snorting loudly. If she hadn't known any better, Louise would have thought that the animal was mocking her.
Ezio marched through the busy crowd to the post where his own horse was tethered, dodging people left and right and occasionally pushing someone lightly out of the way. Immediately after Professor Colbert's announcement, students and commoners alike had started packing their things, putting their possessions on carts and carriages and forming caravans to get homes safely.
This resulted in a merry chaos the next day as horses, vehicles, and many other draught animals congregated in the tent city, commoners darting back and forth like bees to help their noble masters or secure their own possessions.
He grimaced. To his sharp ears, the chatter, the noise, the yelled orders – it was all so loud.
Soon enough, he had found his own horse, a large and well-groomed animal that turned its head towards him with sharp eyes. Unlike him, the beast seemed rather unfazed by all the noise around it, turning its head towards him as he approached.
Ezio gently patted its head and went to work saddling it. When Henrietta had returned to the capital, Agnès had been forced to leave most of her horses behind at the Academy – considering that most of the Musketeers had been killed or injured by Fouquet, she really had no choice in the matter. At the princess's insistence, she had reluctantly loaned two of the horses to Ezio, insisting that he return them once he came to the capital.
Ezio smiled to himself. Louise didn't know it, but these animals were battle-trained chargers, conditioned to stand still and respond to their riders' commands even if cannon fire, musket salvos, and the screams of dying men were ringing out around them. A little shouting wouldn't bother them as much as bad treatment would.
The saddlebags attached, the various pieces of his ancestor's armour, his alchemic supplies, and his backup weapons were all safely stowed away… Was he forgetting anything?
"…Monsieur Auditore?"
Ah, yes. That.
He turned around. "Signorina Siesta," he greeted the maid, smiling genially. "I trust you are doing well?"
"Oh, fine! I'm doing fine!" the maid babbled all of a sudden as he stepped close, her face flushing a fiery red, clutching the bundle with her possessions with nervous fingers. "Professor Colbert paid all of us servants half year's wages in apology for the sudden dismissal, so I'll be able to help my family while I'm out of work! And Marteau promised us that he would take everyone back once the Academy reopened. I'm rather glad to be going home to Tarbes, though, to be honest; I haven't seen my brothers and sisters for months, so… So…"
Ezio just smiled at her as the her voice petered out into an awkward, embarrassed silence, the maid refusing to look up at him.
"…Signorina, I never truly thanked you for your great kindness while I was here, did I?"
Her eyes snapped up, staring at him for a moment before she realized what she was doing, her cheeks flaming up again. "Er, you actually did, I think. Several times."
Ezio chuckled. "Once more, then. For luck." And before she could say anything else, he had already wrapped up the confused girl in a hug, making her clamp up in surprise.
"Thank you," he said quietly into her ear. "When I arrived here, I was ill, wounded, and helpless, and you took care of me. And when I explored this new world of yours, I wasn't sure what to do or say, and you helped me find my place here. Mille, mille grazie, Siesta, davvero."
"Er… You're welcome?!" Siesta squeaked, unsure, though she smiled back at him when he let go of her, finally letting go of her nervousness and relaxing. "…I'm glad I could help you, Monsieur Auditore. You've always been kind to me. Far kinder than many of the nobles here."
Ezio laughed out loud, winking at her. "I'm no noble."
"You should be," Siesta said without thinking, clapping her hands over her mouth in mortified horror immediately afterwards. Ezio just bit his tongue to keep himself from chortling – he couldn't help but be amused by the cheerful girl's embarrassment.
"I've never thought much of titles," Ezio went on, grinning. "They are just as easily given as they are taken away. And nobility is ephemeral, no? In the end, we are all buried in the same coffins."
"Well said," another voice intervened, still audible over the din of the crowd, and both Ezio and Siesta started as Professor Colbert made his way towards them, the balding teacher looking even more harried and distracted than usual. "Well said indeed, even though most of the Royal Court or the Church won't agree with you, but yes, that's what should be the general doctrine of a feudal principle, a meritocracy the way it is already implemented in Germania, not to mention parts of Gallia, and—"
"Professore?" Ezio interrupted cautiously. "Are you well?"
Colbert slapped the side of his head, the grey eyes behind his spectacles clearing. "Veuillez-m'excusez, Monsieur Auditore. I've been terribly distracted these last few days. Reports, letters, healing the injured, overlooking the builders, welcoming the Griffin Knights, forming the caravans…" He made a vague gesture in the air, looking thoroughly frazzled. "Well, I think you can imagine." It was only then that he seemed to notice Siesta, shooting her an apologetic look. "Terribly sorry for interrupting your conversation, Mademoiselle, truly."
Siesta made a small curtsey, the whole movement made awkward by the bundle in her arms. "No need, Professor Colbert."
"Why take some of your valuable time to speak to little me, then?" Ezio prompted, his face guarded. He still hadn't entirely let go of his wariness around the headmaster and his adjutant, and probably would do so for a while. It may not have been entirely rational, but that mattered little to a man like him, someone who had learned to trust his instincts after they had saved him countless times.
Colbert studied him through his spectacles, his sharp grey eyes calm and his voice even. "Because you are an honourable man that deserves my courtesy, Monsieur Auditore, even if I cannot give you anything else."
Ezio raised a curious eyebrow, surprised. "Is that so?"
"Of course. I promised you that the artefacts you returned and entrusted would remain safe. That is a promise I intend to keep." He rested his staff in the crook of his arm, holding out his hand. "I wish you safe travels, Monsieur Auditore. The roads are dangerous enough for mages of skill – be careful."
"…Thank you, professore." Ezio grabbed onto the teacher's hand and shook it, surprised at the firm grip in those deceptively weak-looking fingers. He smiled at the harried teacher. "Do not let the headmaster grind you down, intesi? The school still needs you."
Colbert grimaced, though he still managed to smile back. "I'll try." He shot a look over his shoulder at the other side of the road where Louise's horse cantered in one place, the animal getting increasingly antsy at the lack of action. It didn't help its rider's nervousness any.
"Watch out for little Mademoiselle de la Vallière over there," the teacher said quietly as he turned back to Ezio, his expression growing serious again. "Her mother cares for her, even though she would never admit it to anyone, least of all herself. She would be utterly heartbroken if she were to die."
"Should I be worried? It must be safer than here, at any rate," Ezio joked, smiling disarmingly.
Colbert breathed a small sigh that was equal parts sorrow and resignation. "The capital used to be a safe city. Not anymore." The scholar clapped a hand on Ezio's shoulder, smiling wryly. "Watch your step, Monsieur Auditore. May the Founder go with you."
Ezio nodded, honestly grateful. "Grazie, professore. Per tutto."
"Je le fis avec plaisir. Bon voyage!"
Ezio laughed, swiftly undid his horse's tether, and hauled himself into the saddle of the mighty animal in a single deft move that he had practiced throughout his entire life. The horse cantered, unsure of its new master, until he gave it a sharp twist of the reins, stilling it.
"Monsieur Auditore! …Ezio!"
Surprised, he threw down a look at Siesta, who was standing to the side and wringing her hands in nervousness, looking unsure about what to say until she finally burst it out without care for decorum or decency.
"Tarbes is just a day's ride out on the road to Amiens from the capital! You'll always be welcome in our home!"
Ezio laughed and leaned down, briefly touching her flushed cheek. "Mille grazie, Siesta. I'll remember it. Stay safe, now. Alla prossima volta!"
And with a click of the tongue and a light jab of the heel in the horse's side, the horse set off at a slight trot, its huge frame easily bearing a way through the crowd.
"Andiamo, Louise!" he yelled cheerfully over the din. "We have three days of road before us!"
"Ezio!" Louise yelled shrilly. "Don't you even think of leaving me behind! How do I get this thing to move!?"
Ezio turned in the saddle to face her, a devilish grin on his face. He raised his fingers to his lips and whistled sharply.
And all of a sudden, Louise's horse exploded into full gallop, taking its shouting rider with it. The commoners and merchants scattered before her with screams and oaths as the battle-trained charger bore down towards them.
Ezio chased after both of them through the bustling tent city, laughing all the while as his little mistress cursed him in all the languages she knew of and a few she invented on the spot, leaving behind an amused teacher and a slightly heartbroken common girl.
Soon enough, they were on the road to the city of Tristain.
…
Well, finally done with this chapter. We can finally get to the city with all its dark, narrow alleys, its high towers, its courtly balls, and all that lovely intrigue floating about like a faint whisper carried on the night breeze…
But first, to the references.
The sermon/prayer at Katie's funeral is a mixture of several psalms and prayers translated from French.
The beginning of the letter read out by Colbert is loosely inspired by the heading and introduction used in official documents of the British Monarchy called a Letters Patent (funnily enough, there's no singular form), specifically the Letters Patent Constituting the Office of Governor of Canada, signed by King George the Sixth of the UK on the 1st of October 1947. You should look it up, it makes for fascinating reading – its style and use of English is incredibly interesting. Much different from what we're used to in our day.
Ezio's saying ("Home is where the heart is") is quite well-known, especially in the English-speaking world. It originates from the writings of the Roman scholar Pliny the Elder (full name Gaius Plinius Secundus Maior), who lived from 23-79 AD. The specific phrase Ezio uses is the Italian translation, as far as I'm aware.
… Shadenight123, if you're reading this and any of my Italian is wrong (again, to my great shame), feel free to correct and make fun of me. Mille grazie, maestro.
…
TRANSLATIONS OF FOREIGN PHRASES:
Intermezzo.— "Interval, break." Italian. A word with different meanings. In music, it commonly refers to a piece of music that acts as a bridge between two other compositions.
Earlier in the Renaissance, it was used to refer to a type of musical theatre that was played between different plays, also called an "intermedio." In the 18th century, an intermezzo was a piece/act that linked together several pieces of a larger opera, providing dramatic context or comic relief. In the 19th century, the intermezzo was a movement played between two larger pieces of a longer work – the bridging movement was then called an "instrumental intermezzo."
…Eerily fitting for this chapter, actually.
Piccina.— "Little one." Italian.
Andiamo!— "Onward!" Italian.
Mio amico.— "My friend." Italian. An address used only on males, as "amico" is the male form of the word "friend."
English, being utterly gender-neutral when it comes to the nature of words in the grammatical sense ("the car"), doesn't have the problem of male or female definitive articles, but French ("le périple," "la voiture") and Italian ("il amore," "la corona") certainly do. German even has three articles: male ("Der Bus"), female ("Die Frau"), and neutral ("Das Auto"), which confuses the hell out of anyone trying to learn German as a foreign language. They probably did it on purpose to annoy tourists.
…Mi scusi?— "I'm sorry?" Italian.
Che fastidio.— "How tiresome." Italian.
Basta!— "Enough!" or "Stop!" Italian.
Professore.— "Professor." Italian.
Écu.— French. Literally means "shield," though it could also refer to the medieval currency, which would then translate as "crown." The Tristainian currency is the écu.
Bastardo.— "Bastard." Italian.
Meraviglioso.— "Marvelous." Italian.
Che cosa?— "What?" Italian.
Ragazzo.— "Boy." Italian.
La casa è dove si trova il cuore.— "Home is where the heart is." Italian. See references above for better explanation.
Sua altezza reale.— "Her Royal Highness." Italian.
E voilà!— "There you go!" or, more figuratively, "Hey presto!" Italian.
Mia amica.— "My friend." Italian. An address used only on females; see "mio amico" for explanation.
Bene?— "Alright?" Italian.
Signorina.— "Miss." Italian.
Mille grazie.— "Thank you very much." Italian.
Davvero.— "Truly." Italian.
Veuillez-m'excusez, Monsieur Auditore.— "Please excuse me, Mister Auditore." French.
Mademoiselle.— "Miss." French.
Intesi?— "Understand?" Italian.
Grazie, professore. Per tutto.— "Thank you, professor. For everything." Italian.
Je le fis avec plaisir.— "It was my pleasure." French. Bit of an archaic formulation, but valid nonetheless.
Bon voyage!— "Safe travels," or "Godspeed!" French.
Alla prossima volta!— "Until next time!" Italian.
…
P.S.: Assassin's Creed III looks so. Damn. Awesome. That gorgeous scenery, those gruesomely awe-inspiring fight scenes, those great naval battles… Unfortunately, I'll never be able to play the game on my current machine. Oh, well. I spend most of my free time writing anyway, when I finally manage to pry myself loose from studying. Still, there's always playthroughs to see the story unfold. Can't wait to see what mess Desmond is getting himself into this time. Not too long now!
…
The original light novels of Familiar of Zero (Zero no Tsukaima) were written by Noboru Yamaguchi, originally published by Media Factory in 2004, and are still ongoing after twenty volumes and a four-season anime adaptation by J.C. Staff that premiered in July 2006.
The original video game Assassin's Creed was originally released in 2007 by Ubisoft, followed by its sequels Assassin's Creed II (2009), Assassin's Creed: Brotherhood (2010), and Assassin's Creed: Revelations (2011). At the time of this writing (August 2012), Assassin's Creed III is announced to be released in October 2012.
Again, please support the official release, and be kind enough to leave a review.