CHAPTER 3: TWO COME AND GO, or THE ONLY ONE HERE

Guiche awaited Louise on the Vestry Field, as he had said. He faltered for a moment upon seeing Louise show, but reassured himself of her pigheaded foolishness being the prime determinant of such a course of action. Despite everyone's commonly held fear of Louise's explosions in a classroom setting, it was surely mandated that none of that fear would ever transfer to outside of the classroom. Explosions may be painful and cause vast amounts of collateral damage, but it is no big deal, Yano?

Duels between two nobles were, as a crux of the matter of the commonly held course, forbidden. But Colbert knew it was likely to happen anyway. Honor was that which was valued most among the nobility (behind magic, that would be; otherwise, Louise might actually might be held in high regard! On some days, at least! AS IF! It is not as if honor even works that way, on an uncertain, [in]convenient schedule and all!).

The duel would be held, one way or the other, and all duels in general would happen, so Colbert, ever the realist, deemed it best to hold it out in the open, where he might be, at least he hoped, able to ensure nothing would go too far. In this one case, he was also concerned for and about Louise somewhat. She had been acting erratically since yesterday, and now this put her directly in the danger zone of risk.

He knew not how misplaced his hopes and worries were.

凸

"Ah, so there you are, Louise. I didn't think you would actually show your face here. I must praise you for doing this much, Zero." Again with that cognomen of Louise's... it angered her, very much so. The one who said it must receive all the rage. Let Guiche be swallowed by it. Louise's hands tightened in contained fury. Patience. It had to be directed. Burning hatred must inspire frozen revenge in calculated retaliation.

Upon the Vestry Field, Guiche stood, a really just excessive and unnecessary grin affixed to his somehow smugger than usual face as he addressed Louise and waved his ever-present flower.

Louise smirked back in a return of false confidence. "That's my line. Everyone knows that I am nothing if not honorable. But you, Guiche? You're a two-timing fop scum."

The faintest trace of anger slipped onto Guiche's face, but he wiped it away and replaced his grin. As all true men do, he knew to never show to the world that you are torn up inside and cry every time, staring at the ceiling until the Two Moons set and the Sun peaks in the morn, wondering how things might have turned out differently. "Oh? And what gives you such confidence, Louise? Everyone really does know you are nothing if you are not honorable, as you're hardly a true noble. You can only pretend to be one, what with your lack of magic."

"Magic or no, I'm still more noble than you. I'll win this duel."

With a veritable, absolutely superlative flourish, Guiche brought his wand forth and swept out a rose petal. As it drifted the ground, Guiche chuckled and spoke one last time. "Say what you wish, Louise. I've had enough of this empty talk though. This duel will happen, and you have no answer to this."

Guiche's rose hit the ground and a bronze Valkyrie sprang forth.

"I do have an answer though: THIS!"

For a moment, everyone, Louise included especially, stood around, confused, awaiting some event's happening. Then...

Louise, having stuffed and hidden her hat somewhere around the small of her back, whatever and wherever that is, now reached there and whipped Hat forth before Guiche could even recover his comprehension and unleash a counter questioning whether Louise was still harping on about that grassy familiar object thing. The crowd recoiled in surprise at this utterly unprecedented approach, and Guiche would have too, if not for the fact his comprehension was permanently removed for want of a head.

The ferocity with which Hat struck was unparalleled; the epitome of sanguinary. He bit into Guiche, ripping apart his clothes, tearing off his hair, and pinned him down. He tore one arm off, and another, and blood came forth in great spurts. One thrust and pull into and out of the shoulder, and bone blades were made, protruding out in grisly scene. The shoulder blade grabbed, then plunged back into the neck, more blood coming in a fountain of red wash. Cut, cut, cut, cut. Cut, cut, slash; a cut here, a slash there, and buttery yellow-brown pus and blood mixed all together into an appetizing aperitif comes pouring out. A scream cut short, a surprise for you, here, have it as it cuts away and off with the screams. The disbelieving eyes come rolling out, one still thinly wrapped and held to the head by a string of flesh, then the flesh torn with a squelch, a squelch of wetness and a pop. Pink grey matter coming out, chewed on, yes, delicious. Consume it all. Shovel it into the mouth; waste nothing. Grab it, grab it with full hands and shovel it in. Into Guiche's mouth; force it open and feed him his medicine, have a taste of his own self. You love that, don't you? Smacking sounds abound; yes, yes he does. Ravenously, the eye and chewed bits are taken and shoved back into the source; into his shocked-open mouth. An abyss and a source, the one source is. Up, down, up, down, up-down, up and down, chew, chew, juices, tasty wine-carrion juices flow, glassy juice pouring and pouring through and through, into reality and the world, those mouthwatering vitreous fluids overflowing. How does it taste, how does it feel? You love yourself, yes? Enjoy. Yum yum yum yum yum yum yum yum yes. Enjoy. Laugh now. Cackle. Cackle over the wet squelch of dying flesh. Necro...tic.

A leg removed like mutton, used as a bludgeon, a beating upon the wasted body, the leg hitting and hitting until the ribs crack and the bones of that leg bludgeon itself crack, snap, burst. Blood, blood, blood, bursting everywhere. Swim in the blood, the beautiful sea stained incarnadine. Louise closes her eyes. The crimson-synonym natural paint laps over her. A dress ruined. The material wasted. It would have been a fine finish for wood. And the dress fine cloth on its own. No need for re-coloring. Dye is for the unsophisticated; the peasants and such lot.

Claws come out and tear into the body anew, what's left of it coming apart. So many eyes closed before, now so many running, vomiting, unsure, terrified. Tabitha closes her book, looks up briefly. Gazes at Louise.

"I will go now."

Kirche's mouth agape. It was interesting at first, thought to be Louise unleashing that savage, pent up lust- no, belay that. That's wrong; don't do that. This was murder- at best. More like slaughter. Kirche joined the rest in leaving, fleeing for the hills of wherever that isn't here. This was horror. Horrible. Why? Don't do this, Louise. Don't do this, don't; why? Why, leave, flee.

Colbert, even on the verge of vomiting himself in spite of all the terrible scenes he had witnessed, shook himself to intervene and joined in the slaughter. Body number two for the spoiled soup. A broth now, more like.

In other words, the duel went perfectly: Guiche shredded like the ball piercing he was. It went as well as one could expect! As well as butchering someone of a high social stature in clear, public view and going all the way and past skinning the body to many witnesses' disgust and horror could. In fact, if one lowers one's standards (which only Who would care about at this point, considering that Karin's are inherently unreachable) and qualifies with conditional statements enough, then one might even say truthfully that the duel went swimmingly. Smoothly. Redefinition is innovation.

凸

After the euphoric rush of victory, Louise continued reveling as she stood on that grassy field.

"This is amazing!" she thought aloud. "I don't even need weapons at this rate! A talking sword couldn't beat this; couldn't beat you, Hat!"

Hat smiled.

"Though... a sword might help. Hat, I know you're quite capable now, and it was great seeing what you did out there, but maybe you'd be even better with a weapon? Should we perhaps find a sword for you?"

"I am a hat, gentility lacker. I am not possessed of being given to arms, but rather, class. How would one expect me to wield such an instrument?"

"Maybe in the same way you walk-hop around and pipe-smoke about?"

Hat gave a good huff, offended as one who is met with an unsolicited reminder of the past might be. "Well, I never. That's quite distinct. Quite a distinct matter. Yes, quite distinct."

This annoyed Louise a bit, staining her victory. And far away, in a shady shop, a talking sword woke briefly to ponder why it was he felt subtly denigrated, like he'd missed a great opportunity, and then decided to go back to adding to his dust collection for several thousand more years.

Louise continued thinking positively, for the most part, but, in due time, still had to complain about something, and so chose something regarding the execution. Such nitpicking... well, the grass is always greener when not stained with blood.

So she brought Hat around to that same corner of shouting to give him another good helping of a proper, religious level shouting to. She started off with some complaints about how the duel's execution was subpar; doubly so, for there was insultingly little of an insulting build up to the fight and she'd scarcely shown her own prowess. It was a lighting quick strike, to be sure, but it was all Hat's hat speed! But some sense came back into her and she calmed down for a moment, as much as is possible for one such as herself, and conceded with some vain mumbling that the first was somewhat Guiche's fault and the latter was somewhat shown by her familiar, an extension of herself, doing the fighting. You must know that spears do not kill people, but people do. If one were to fault the spears, that would make for quite an interesting experiment of a world anyhow, as punishment would be impossible. Try destroying a spear- break it into two, and you've only made more of the same: a shorter spear and a sharp, broken splintering wood spear. The spear would always win, especially if it so desires to create death. You've completed part of its task that way.

The complaints had to continue, however. If one is truly motivated, a way can always be found. As Louise said it, "THE FIRST THING I SHOUTED IS STILL SOMEWHAT APPLICABLE!" Guiche may have maneuvered around further denouncement in favor of going straight into the duel, but, if Hat had gone a little slower, perhaps some further "smack talk," so the name is for the certain tone adopted by one speaking between shattered teeth and other various wounds, could have been conducted. Perhaps even the wiping of one's face (with a focus on the mouth) of some blood in between the smack talk could have been done. That would have true gentility- this lightning quick fighting had no style to it. Just swift, swift elimination.

(Not nearly) soon enough, Louise's right and proper Brimiric shouting to was finished with for the day, or at least a fair part of it... the curtly remaining part, let it be said. There are, after all, seven stages to grief: disbelief, denial, negotiation, guilt, anger, depression, and acceptance (or, as it is known to those foolish few, hope). While it is true that Louise seemed to have skipped about in order to move briskly to anger, sooner or later (essentially later, for Louise), the last stage will be reached (unless one is interrupted... permanently... but even then, for most people that have those designated "loved ones," the stages shall come forth in others with one's own death as the cause, sort of perpetuating a cycle of what others might call senseless rage and one might or surely would know on their own to be righteous fury, like the divine fist of the heavens piercing in from above to deliver unto one's target the justice of fast vengeance). For her, the stages proceeded apace as this: stage 1, stage 2, stage 3, stage 5, stage 5, stage 5, stage 5, stage 6 (if extreme anger is considered depression, as some demarcate), stage 5, stage 5, stage 6 (by the past definition again), and stage 7.

In summary then, all matters considered, let it be reiterated that the duel went well. It was not until after Louise's screeching cogitations, when one Princess Henrietta showed for a heart to heart talk with her guards tensely, openly flanking, spears out, about, and ready, that it was brought to Louise's attention that this was a stark, raving mad sentiment adrift in a sea of stupidity; like some driftwood washing ashore onto a furthermore island of idiocy peaking in same-such defiance from the infinite oceans of excessive inanity, as if there were some acceptable, even preferable, amount.

After a few minutes of confused childhood friend worship veering on homosexuali- lesbianism (homosexuality, only it is somehow simulating rather than repulsive and disgusting to those outside the target range), the Princess managed to convince Louise to settle down for a sincere talk.

"Louise, I know that, long ago, I vowed to bring you out of any bind, but this is far too much of a matter. A pardon will cost me much, even if I am technically allowed. I will give you one, but this is the last time I can save you. Having said all this, I still came all this way early and I want you to know I care for you. Why did you it?"

"Do what? I do not see what the problem is. Guiche challenged me to a duel, and I committed to it. If anything, I've done good and protected my honor."

"Louise, you walked onto the field, shouted a wide variety of... creative... insults at Guiche, did not accord any time for officiating, danced as a wild, metaphorical dervish-thing might, shouted more delusions while making motions as if throwing something, and then tore Guiche apart. Literally. There are several counts against you, some multiple in number, the most prominent consisting of: murder; mutilation; contempt of the law; derivation of non-sodomitical pleasure from a ruined corpse; the consumption of human flesh and general cannibalism; breaking the code of nobility; contamination of a substance not meant or possibly meant for human consumption depending on the region of jurisdiction; offending our delicate sensibilities and thus corrupting the impressionable youth; witchcraft, as in unsanctioned magicks; failure to control one's 'familiar;' and improper dress. During all this, you were in such ecstasy, your eyes closed and screaming moans, that you must have enjoyed all those acts. But most of all, worse than this long list... Louise, I really am worried about you."

"Princess, please- please trust my honor here. You know I will always uphold that. It was all within the bounds of the duel, and you surely, surely must be aware that I was called to defend."

Louise had drawn in closer to Henrietta, who backed away slightly. Her guards drew in closer too, on alert.

"As... I said, Louise, you never allowed the duel to begin, and what you did went far beyond the bounds of what is just. You killed. Twice. Savagely."

This was true. Even Colbert, clearing his throat and bringing his staff up to start, had been shocked by her strike and the rapid conclusion of the combat. Was this not merely a greater sign of her success though?

"Princess, I know this is true. Yet I will not apologize, for I stand by my actions. And for the pardon you give me, I thank you."

"I do not know if this is the best decision to take now. This conversation has convinced me to the contrary."

Louise's head, turned down in a combination of shame and sadness, flicked up at those words. "What?! No. Princess, no, please. I beg you to... please. Please consider the weight of this situation."

"It is you who does not understand the situation. A noble was torn apart, to shreds, in front of a large crowd of once-innocent youth, then eaten, yes, the flesh consumed, with such enthusiastic cries as 'MMM TASTES LIKE SWINE,' and 'SWINERY SWINERY FINERY.' Have YOU no honor? Where was the Louise I once knew?"

A thick silence settled on the room. Louise's head bowed again, cutting through it, but not completely able.

"The Louise I once knew would never have committed such a foul act. She was chivalrous, sweet, and playful. Not so base, hateful, and bitter. But..." Henrietta pulled her staff up, shaking her head and preparing to leave. "But, in honor of that Louise I once knew, you will be pardoned. Know that I am not pardoning you, but the Louise of my memories. Know that I cannot, and will not, protect you after this. Whatever happens shall. Goodbye Louise, for the last time. I believe it is best if we never meet again."

Henrietta stopped at the door, right before exiting into the hall, for one last long look. "I can only hope you feel remorse, even the tiniest morsel."

Tears ran down Louise's face.

Then Hat roused himself from his not-slumber, curious as to the commotion occurring (and how he might add to it). "Ooooooh," he said upon sighting the Princess. "I must acquire that crown. I must have it! Give it to me. Give a piece of that, now! You, over here, now!"

Hat hopped on over to Henrietta's head and placed his teeth wherever he could. Pending a response would take an eternity, maybe even two. Or an infinite number. Now he should, would, MUST act.

"Exquisite!" the shout came, soaking in all the pleasures of taste. Henrietta's crown was torn into and by those incisors.

Henrietta lost all composure. "LOUISE! KEEP IT! UNDER CONTROL!" She sprinted out of the room, the tears Louise had now transferred to a new source. LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOUISE...

Henrietta's guard attempted to intervene, but found themselves dead. First, their helmets went missing, then their heads. Mostly in that order. You must understand that helmets do not come off that easily, and so simultaneous removal did happen on several occasions.

"HAT! HAT?! What are you doing?"

Hat turned to Louise, his mouth dyed in red, chomping at the bits and morsels around and about.

"I am enjoying this well catered buffet, of course. It is absolutely curated with this intensity. Look upon all this headgear and take it all in!"

"Hat... you... this is ridiculous. I cannot even comprehend this anymore."

And so Louise collapsed into a catatonic state, choking on, drowning in her tears, balled up on the floor, rocking slowly, muttering something or the other about hats for the next few hours.

"Hat... hat... hat... hats... why... please. Save... me. He...ell...p." Hat, at her injunction, crawled over and began lapping up Louise's streaming tears after the headgear feast was finished. What a digestif to lick. It was sweet with just the right note of salt. And all acrid. The flavors were mixing together: peaking, existing! Wonderful.

She has become a wonder to behold, that Louise. A wonder that burns the eyes. Truly, the stars of the night sky bound together into one mighty faggot cannot match her brilliance at times. Her radiance is akin to the magnificent Sun close to us, burning in defiance in all of its kind.

Still, even the best must rest. Louise tired out and fell asleep. She slept quite soundly for once, actually. For the second time in a long time, pain induced rest.

But what dreams may linger?

A note from the scrivener:

To those that, sadly, must be informed:

We shall discuss herein the philosophy of life, as if there is any other, any alternative. Given a choice between wearing a hat and not wearing a hat, it is only logical that one must wear a hat. C'est la vie, or, as they say in Gallia, this is life.

Respectfully at a distance and not yours in any way conceivable,

Eccentricity Abounds, the Genteel One

know that i do a thing, even if, oh no, the thing is bad. if you how surviving that, when i months having spend plan to, the retardant, every second i see the face of you is 100 years of torture. i remember you and the warm, unwanted touch, to burn you down, now you foil that. and into the nicest thing i say, i am sorry. but cool i am be, and they say i the masterful dango fruit. dango is fruit like the incomprehensible mikan, which also the dango. because the travelers that travelers the constant chill room of istanbul know that its true name is know, know now. yum, yum be cook the gluttony in the machine, for to be needings in prep of test preparate. if it is on wooden stamp, the be they wrong, as how far they cut the usu kine kin wood is like blossom of shiitake tree, the greatest granding grounding of MC wam hammer bam. Nam, now, urgh, the choke. Death died, I have. beriberi true. as if i were under a real magic spell pq louise not have the magic ohohohohoh jajajjajaja