XIV. Grim Celebration
The ride back to the Academy was a quiet one for Louise. By all intents and purposes she should have been giddy. Their little party, for the most part, had succeeded in their mission. They had retrieved the Staff of Destruction. They had stopped the villain, Foquet. And, as a bonus, she even got to ride on Tabitha's dragon.
That was actually one of the reasons for the Valliere girl's sour mood. Once Louise had regained some measure of composure, Kirche suggested that she and Tabitha return to the Academy on Sylphid while Rip and herself took the wagon back. Kirche reasoned that the Headmaster would want the Staff returned as soon as possible despite Rip's insistence that the weapon itself was now useless. The redhead also figured that Louise and Tabitha could fly on ahead in order to tell the authorities that the infamous thief, Foquet, was now dead. They also needed to know that she had actually been the Headmaster's own secretary. Kirche and Rip would take the slower route and use the carriage to transport the treacherous thief's body.
It was blatantly obvious to the pinkette, though, that Kirche had only arranged it so that she and her familiar would be separated. Louise was quite miffed that Kirche, a girl she absolutely despised, had the gall to show her pity. It was insulting.
Yet, at the same time, Louise was silently grateful. At the moment, she really didn't want to be around her familiar. Every time she looked at Rip, her mind would flash back to the horrible sight of the dark haired woman killing Ms. Longueville. Louise kept seeing the fake secretary's look of fear and panic as Rip rushed up towards her. She recalled seeing Longueville's face grimacing in agony when Rip all but skewered her. But the worst part was remembering the thief's sad and regretful stare as the woman gazed back at her whilst Rip held her aloft, impaled through the chest upon the familiar's arm. She remembered the thief's eyes turn blank when life finally left her body.
As soon as the dragon landed upon the Academy's courtyard, Louise excused herself from Tabitha and made her way towards her dorm room, leaving the other girl to make the report to Headmaster Osmond alone. If the blue haired student had any objections, Louise certainly didn't hear them. She marched numbly through the halls of the school, ignoring the aghast looks fellow students gave her when they caught sight of her muddy and disheveled state. She silently prayed that no one noticed the small spots of blood that stained her uniform, smeared there when her familiar had attempted to comfort her during her small breakdown.
Louise tried her best to rationalize her familiar's actions as simply that of a loyal summoned servant protecting its master. Foquet was attempting to murder them, after all. Yet the brutal way the dark haired woman had killed the thief kept popping up in her mind. She didn't want to admit it, but Rip actually seemed to enjoy the callous act. That was perhaps what frightened her the most. How could anyone, no matter how justified, actually take pleasure in ending another's life?
The pink haired girl eventually made her way into her room. After shutting and locking the door, she swiftly tore off her clothing, tossing the mud and blood stained garments onto the floor. She then rushed into the attached restroom, heading straight towards the wash basin. The water was not the freshest as it held the remnants of her wash from this morning, but such a fact didn't matter much to Louise. She splashed the cold water directly onto her face and body, furiously scrubbing at her hands and cheeks, trying to wash away the mud and dirt and blood and everything that had gotten onto her during this entire horrible, dreadful day.
She regretted having volunteered herself for the mission. Although she knew that it had been her duty as a noble of House Valliere to do so, the feelings within her still remained. Louise never thought it would be possible, but right now she absolutely loathed her status. How could anyone be expected to go through such horror? For the first time in her life, she envied the commoners. Though those poor sods led a harsh life, at least they had some measure of freedom in how they led said lives. They didn't suffer from the burden all nobles bore.
After washing away the worst of the filth from herself, Louise dried her somewhat cleaner form with a white towel, one that was folded neatly upon the bureau next to the wash basin. She frowned with disgust afterwards, noting that the once pristine white fabric was now stained a dark gray. She would have to go down to the girls' bathing area and clean herself more thoroughly, but that could wait until later. Right now she felt exhausted from her ordeal and wanted nothing more than to crawl into her bed under the sheets and sleep.
She just hoped that when she closed her eyes and drifted into slumber that she wouldn't see Ms. Longueville's last terrifying moments.
0
Rip Van Winkle sighed in bliss as her pale, naked form sank deep into the warm waters of the large pool. The girl's dormitory bathing area was at the moment deserted, and would probably remain that way for the rest of the evening. The Academy was throwing a ball of some sort in order to celebrate the return of the holy Staff of Destruction, so the students would probably be occupied for a while.
Rip sneered; holy relic indeed. The vampire supposed it didn't really matter much, since these idiots could believe whatever they wanted. A slight smirk appeared on her lips at the thought of this world's so-called nobility treating what amounted to an oversized paperweight as a holy item. Now that its payload had been spent, the Staff of Destruction was nothing more than pretty junk to fill up space inside their vaults.
The sniper stretched out her arms over her head, enjoying the heat from the water as it soothed her sore body. It had been a pretty rough day, what with Foquet's stupid mud golem being such a handful and Louise being such a whiny little brat. Part of Rip found the pink haired girl's innocence to be quite endearing, but to make such a big deal out of one lousy thief dying was a bit much. The green haired bitch had planned to kill them, after all. You'd think Louise would have been somewhat grateful for what she'd done. Bah, children. She'd get over it.
It had been quite an annoyance that she wasn't able to get an answer out of the Headmaster, though. Rip was curious as to how a U.S. Army rocket launcher had managed to find itself in the hands of the Academy staff, especially seeing as how the most advanced piece of ordinance in this backwater world seemed to be a black powder cannon. The vampire had been looking forwards to asking Old Osmond about it, but upon hearing news of Foquet's death the old man retired himself into his rooms and refused to take visitors. Rip guessed that the Headmaster had been close to his fake secretary, and was taking the time to grieve for her death. Frankly, she felt somewhat sorry for him. It wasn't the old man's fault that some no good traitor had wormed her way into his school, earning his trust all the while deceiving him. Hell, she deceived everyone.
The vampire's lips turned up into a smile as she recalled the feel of her fingers piercing into the filthy bitch's flesh. Her tongue licked her lips hungrily as she remembered the way Foquet's skin and bone and muscle and sinew ripped open like wet paper, at how warm and wet and tight the woman's insides felt as her arm dug itself deep into the thief's chest cavity. Rip reveled in the look of pain and fear and revulsion in Foquet's eyes as she slowly died, at how her body trembled and shook as the vampire literally squeezed the life out of her from the inside out. It was such a delicious memory, both arousing and hunger inducing.
Truth be told, she had been quite tempted to feed on the dying little trollop. Any vampire would have been tempted, as there had been a lot of blood flowing at the end. But thankfully her disgust won out over her baser instincts and she discarded the green haired vermin like the garbage that she was. Rip absolutely loathed traitors; the thought of taking a traitor's foul blood into her own body made her feel sick.
The vampire lifted one long, slender leg from the water and began to wash the mud from the pale limb. The warm, magical waters served not only to soothe her form but cleanse it as well. The dirt and filth vanished from her skin quite quickly, dissolved in the enchanted waters. Rip raised her hands and noted with a frown that there were still trace amounts of blood left under her fingernails. She then grinned, seeing the humor in the situation; it looked as if even magic couldn't quite get rid of all the evidence of her misdeeds.
Rip took a quick glance across the calm waters of the pool, her eyes narrowing at the dark blue dress folded neatly upon a nearby bureau. She frowned at the overly complicated looking garment. When the celebratory ball had been called, Rip, along with Kirche, Tabitha and Louise had been invited to attend. They were, after all, the ones who brought the infamous thief Foquet to justice, and were to be honored and presented their reward for such a brave and noble act. Louise and Kirche would be granted the title of Chevalier, whilst Tabitha (who already was a knight) would instead be awarded an unspecified monetary compensation. Rip, being not of noble birth, would get nothing. She guessed that the fools believed inviting her to their pathetic little soiree was reward enough for an uncouth commoner like her. They were even kind enough to give her a pretty little dress so that she could play the noble for one night.
"Not bloody likely," Rip sneered, glaring at the offending gown. Sadly, she had no choice but to wear it as her suit was currently being washed and mended by the maid staff. Her poor clothes, unfortunately, were hardly in the best of shape after her return, torn in many places as well as stained with both mud and copious amounts of blood. Rip wondered if Louise's offer of buying her new clothes was still on the table; if not, she might have to continue wearing her increasingly tattered suit. Else, if that didn't work, she'd have to settle for wearing the stupid ball gown.
Ugh, she hated wearing dresses. They were just so... girly. She herself hadn't worn a skirt in over forty years let alone a ball gown. Oh well, it was only for one night. She'd toss away the damn thing as soon as she got her suit back. Besides, no one would see her wearing it as she did not intend to attend their stupid party. She may be a commoner, and a monster at that, but she still had her pride. An officer of Millenium did not settle for paltry bones when they could have the entire cow to feast on.
Rip smiled slightly. It looked like poor Louise wouldn't be seeing her in a dress after all.
The vampire sighed, then leaned back against the wall of the pool, closing her eyes and letting the calming warmth of the mystical waters around her alleviate the sores and troubles of both her mind and body. She made a mental note to make use of these bathing facilities more often, most likely during the night when all the students and staff were asleep.
0
Jean Colbert shook his head regretfully as he looked down upon the still form of Foquet laying on the simple wooden table next to him. The master thief had been responsible for so much trouble, and to finally meet the infamous criminal was quite a shock. This was especially true since the thief's actual identity was that of Ms. Longueville, the Headmaster's own personal secretary. Colbert cursed himself for a fool, having fallen for the beautiful woman's lies and tricks. He himself had been the idiot to tell her all about the vault's defenses, about the outer wall as well as the interior wards. How in blazes could he have been so stupid?
The middle aged instructor directed a glare at the woman's corpse, so motionless on the wooden table, her pale countenance half-covered in a blood-soaked tarp. He had been quite surprised upon seeing the grisly state her body was in. At first, Colbert had been concerned that it may have been Louise who had done it, as her Void magic seemed to be extremely violent and unpredictable. When he learned that it was in fact Miss van Winkle that had killed the thief and not one of the girls, he very much relieved. No child should ever have to be forced to perform such an act, and he was grateful to the human familiar for doing what was necessary, especially after being told how Foquet had been planning to kill all three of his students.
Colbert tried to hate her, he really did. He frowned at the thief's pale, unmoving face, disgusted with himself that even in death he found her to be so remarkably beautiful. He had known her for only a few months, yet in those months she had shown herself to be capable, quite intelligent, and very trustworthy.
All lies, of course. He knew that now, as in hindsight her behavior had been quite peculiar. She was always asking questions that she had no business asking, and at the time he had put it down to mere academic curiosity. Now he knew better. Now he knew that Longueville had been playing them all.
And yet... despite all this, he could not hate her. Regardless of Longuville's maturity and intelligence, she had still been quite young. The thief was perhaps only in her mid-twenties when she finally met her end, not that much older than his own students. The professor wondered, quite sadly, what could have brought such a talented and capable young mage to such dire straights, to become a murderous, thieving criminal, one who had no guilt or compunctions about killing innocent students or betraying her friends?
He shook his head and looked away from the body on the table. "You're getting soft, Colbert," he told himself. The Flame Snake would never have felt such pity towards an enemy. The man sighed once more, then gave the body of Foquet one more remorseful glance. "Goodbye, Ms. Longueville. I'm sorry things had to end this way."
Colbert quickly covered up the dead woman's face with the tarp, then left the storage room. He nodded to the guardsman outside the door, kept there to make sure no over curious students snuck in to peek at the infamous thief's corpse. In the morning soldiers from the palace would take custody of the body; they would probably take her someplace where some bored official would identify the corpse, mark some paperwork, and make it official that the enemy of the Nobility was truly dead. Foquet would then most likely be buried in an unmarked plot, the ultimate fate of all criminals who were executed for crimes against the Crown. Perhaps if she was lucky, a kind priest who would take pity on her and give her body its last rights.
The instructor knew it wasn't likely to happen, but he prayed for it anyway.
0
Kirche's face hurt from all the fake smiling she was doing. It was truly such an annoyance, having to stand here, in an uncomfortable yet fashionable dress, and pretend she was enjoying herself. Especially since all she wanted to do was go to her room and collapse onto her bed, perhaps sleep for two days straight and forget all the events that had happened today.
"It truly amazes me, my dear Kirche, that such a ravishing beauty like yourself was able to defeat a powerful and malevolent force like Foquet," said Allain Chibet, a thoroughly boring third year student from an utterly unimportant noble house in Gallia. She was surrounded by several other male students, most of whom were sneaking glances down the open neckline of her gown.
"Oh, you," the redhead laughed all the while wanting to smack the idiot. She truly was not in the mood for this parody of social intercourse. Usually she loved the attention the horny teenage boys at the Academy would heap upon her, but today had not been a good day. Although she was no stranger to violence, the Germanian still despised the sight of blood. And Kirche had seen a lot of it today.
Yet, despite her foul mood, she opted to attend the celebratory ball out of obligation to her station. She was, after all, being presented with a great honor. To achieve the title of Chevalier, especially at such a young age, was quite the achievement. It would add much prestige to the glorious House of Anhalt-Zerbst. So she would suck it up, smile and bat her eyelashes at the boys and men vying for her affections, and do her duty to her family.
During a lull in the inane conversation, she took a quick glance around the ballroom. The place was lavishly decorated, which was quite impressive considering that the ball itself had only been arranged just a few hours ago. She idly wondered if the Headmaster had ordered the celebratory party before any news of their success even arrived, and Kirche debated whether or not to be proud of the old man's faith in their abilities.
The redhead spotted Tabitha's familiar form over by the banquet table. The blue haired girl was dressed in a modest yellow gown and was, as usual, stuffing her face. Although she didn't act like it, Kirche knew that her friend was just as disturbed as her by the Vallier familiar's display. She was actually a little surprised that anything could bother the stoic bookworm, but she supposed that even Tabitha would be a little freaked out at such a disturbing spectacle of violence.
Kirche was hardly surprised to note that neither Louise nor her familiar had shown up. In Rip's case, it was easy to see why; if she had been refused a reward after taking down a notorious criminal, well, she'd be pretty upset, too. But van Winkle was a commoner, after all, so she should have expected the snub. Honestly, that girl acted well above what her station dictates.
But Louise should definitely have been here. The ball was partly in her honor, after all. Kirche understood that the pink haired girl was upset, but her duty to her house and family should have come first. Honestly, that girl was such a little brat sometimes. How the hell did she expect to gain the respect of her peers if she kept behaving like a spoiled child?
"Good evening, Miss Kirche," a boy, dressed in a fine velvet frock coat and frilly silk shirt bowed in front of her. He gave her a winning smile, or at lest one that he thought was winning since the effect was ruined by the most crooked set of teeth the Germanian had ever seen. "Would you like to dance?"
I'm tired, my feet are sore in these stupid heels, my willpower's all but drained, this corset itches, I'm hungry and haven't eaten yet, my hair's a mess, and you can't even be bothered to look me in the eyes as yours can not seem to be capable of leaving my breasts, so of course I don't want to dance you you God damned idiot!
Out loud, she said, "I'd love to," all with a dazzling smile.
0
Guiche de Gramont sighed, wondering what the hell was going on with him. He was dressed to the nines in the latest of Tristainian finery, his hair was as dashing as ever, and with Katie and Montmorency still not giving him the time of day, numerous other interested girls had begun to try to gain his attention. And yet, despite all such good fortune, he still could not seem to shake off the gloom that had settled upon him these last couple of weeks.
He, of course, knew the cause of his anguish. All of his misery had begun during that awful, stupid duel between himself and Louise's criminal of a familiar. Guiche could still not get over the fact that he lost a duel to such an uncouth, uncultured, and shameless gutter trash. How dare that filthy commoner make a fool of him! Everyone was now laughing behind his back, he knew they were! How could he, the son of one of the premier military families in Tristain, be defeated so utterly and completely by not only a lowly commoner, but a woman at that! Such an insult was a massive blow to his masculine pride! It was intolerable!
The young nobleman shook his head, depression sinking deep into his heart. Tonight was supposed to be a night of celebration, but he could never think of it as such. There was a ball in honor of the group that had defeated the vile Foquet, but he could find no reason to celebrate such an event. One of the so-called champions, after all, was that awful, abominable woman who had so humiliated him! How could he even be asked to stand in the same room as her, to watch her smug, petty face smirk at him as everyone in the school celebrated her accomplishment? Each second spent in her vile presence would be like a dagger stabbing into his heart. He could not bear to stand it! Yet his obligation as a member of the nobility as well as a student of the academy forced him to go. Oh, how truly detestable was the fate of the nobleman! To have to swallow one's pride in the face of such injustice! How could God allow such a thing to occur?
And so, here Guiche was, wandering the school grounds in the middle of the night, alone with his thoughts. He was stalling for time, trying to build up the courage to head upstairs to the ballroom and face his upcoming emasculation with some dignity. He was about to enter the gardens, hoping that a quick stroll through the soothing flowers would calm his troubled spirit, when he was stopped short by a strange sound.
Emanating from within the well manicured walls of the gardens was singing. The voice was soft and lilting, feminine and tender. It held an elegance and grace just below the tone, and though the voice was hardly that of a professional singer's it held a form of refinement that was well above that of most bards and performers. This was the voice of someone who truly loved to sing, and it held a beauty that put many opera divas to shame.
Guiche felt himself holding his breath, deathly afraid that to breathe even once might interrupt the sweet, dulcet melody. He found himself softly creeping closer, moving as silently as he could through the garden's soft lawn lest his brutish footsteps interrupt the beautiful song.
"Wie nahte mir der Schlummer,
Bevor ich ihn gesehn?
Ja, Liebe pflegt mit Kummer
Stets Hand in Hand zu gehn!
Ob Mond auf seinem Pfad wohl lacht?
Welch schöne Nacht! "
The words were completely foreign to the young nobleman, though to his ears the lyrics sounded Germanian. He payed the meaning of the song no mind, though, as he kept his full attention to the exquisite melody itself.
"Leise, leise, Fromme Weise!
Schwing dich auf zum Stemenkreise.
Lied, erschalle! Feiernd walle
Mein Gebet zur Himmelshalle!
O wie hell die goldnen Sterne,
Mit wie reinem Glanz sie glühn!
Nur dort in der Berge Ferne
Scheint ein Wetter aufzuziehn.
Dort am Wald auch schwebt ein Heer
Dunkler Wolken dumpf und schwer.
Zu dir wende Ich die Hände,
Herr ohn' Anfang und ohn' Ende!
Vor Gefahren
Uns zu wahren
Sende deine Engelscharen!"
Guiche crept closer. As he rounded a bend in the path cutting through the garden, he saw a figure standing next to the fountain at its center. To his delight, the girl that was the source of the magical melody was quite the alluring sight. She was dressed in an elegant blue gown, one that fit her feminine figure quite well, flattering both her delicate form and aristocratic stance. She was quite tall for a woman and though she was currently facing away from him, this allowed Guiche to admire the long, dark hair that flowed down her slim neck like black silk, the length of her tresses almost touching the hem of her flouncy, ankle-length skirt. . He could tell that her hands were clasped demurely in front of her as she sang up into the heavens above, serenading the two moons floating high in the black sky. The lights from both celestial bodies bathed her exquisite form in soft luminance, imbuing her body with an otherworldly, ethereal air.
"Alles pflegt schon längst der Ruh?
Trauter Freund, wo weilest du?
Ob mein Ohr auch eifrig lauscht,
Nur der Tannen Wipfel rauscht;
Nur das Birkenlaub im Hain
Flüstert durch die hehre Stille;
Nur die Nachtigall und Grille
Scheint der Nachtluft sich zu freun.
Doch wie? Täuscht mich nicht mein Ohr?
Dort klingt's wie Schritte!
Dort aus der Tannen Mitte
Kommt was hervor!
Er ist's! Er ist's!
Die Flagge der Liebe mag wehn!"
"Oh, what beauty that hath graced mine eyes before tonight were mere imitations to the genuine sight," Guiche whispered to himself as he continued to stare, transfixed, at the girl before him. She was so elegant, so cultivated, so genteel. This was a true Lady, a true noble woman that any man could ever wish or hope for. Oh please, he begged silently. Please turn around so that I may gaze upon your face!
"Dein Mädchen wacht
Noch in der Nacht!
Er scheint mich noch nicht zu sehn!
Gott, täuscht das Licht
Des Monds mich nicht,
So schmückt ein Blumenstrauß den Hut!
Gewiß, er hat den besten Schuß getan!
Das kündet Glück für morgen an!
O süße Hoffnung, neu belebter Mut!"
As her melodious voice continued to caress his enthralled ears, Guiche held his breath once more when he saw the enchanting creature before him begin to turn. He felt his heart beat heavy in his chest as her graceful form pivoted around as she sang to the stars above, one hand rising, elegant gloved fingers trying to caress the night sky.
And then, the nobleman gasped as the woman's features became clear. She had turned around completely, still singing to the lonely sky, her lips curved upwards in a serene smile. Guiche felt his heart drop, his insides tremble, his fury rise, as recognition slapped him viciously in the face.
It was Valliere's hateful familiar! The girl before him, the one whose voice had so captivated him, was none other than Rip van Winkle, that insufferable, despicable commoner! How dare she trick him like this! How dare she even think of wearing such a flattering, feminine gown! What kind of villainy was this? How could the fates be so cruel as to gift such an unworthy soul like her with such an enchanting voice? Van Winkle was nothing but a filthy common trollop. She was absolutely shameless, abhorrent, impudent, immoral, insolent...
"All meine Pulse schlagen,
Und das Herz wallt ungestüm,
Süß entzückt entgegen ihm!
Konnt'ich das zu hoffen wagen?
Ja, es wandte sich da Glück
Zu dem teuren Freund zurück,
Will sich morgen treu bewähren!
Ist's nicht Täuschung? Ist's nicht Wahn?
Himmel, nimm des Dankes Zähren
Für dies Pfand der Hoffnung an!"
Guiche's internal raging slowly died away as he continued watching and listening to the woman before him. His eyes softened as he watched her lithe body slowly dance within the soft embrace of the moons' light, her pale, delicate features looking so innocent and unguarded during this most private of moments. Her long, satiny mane flowed along with her graceful movements, the paleness of her exposed neck and shoulders almost reflecting the soft light around her.
The young noble let out a breath he didn't realize he had held in, all the while continuing to gaze at the dark haired woman while listening to the wonderful aria she was bestowing upon the night. He felt his heart beat harder once more inside his chest, and soon all the depression and melancholy that had so poisoned his spirit quickly melted away. The desolation within him became replaced by another emotion, one that would prove much, much less healthy for the poor boy in the weeks and months to come.
Love.