Shoot first and inquire afterwards. If you make mistakes, I will protect you.
Hermann Goering, to the Prussian police.
…
...
While one of Helgekinia's two moons shone on the streets of Tristania, the streets of the main city of Tristain were deserted at the late hour. But in one rich, well-decorated office which smelled of incense and mahogany, a well-dressed and well-fed man sat at his desk as a lamp burned. A pair of small spectacles rested on his nose as he read a letter.
"So they're all gone…" he muttered to himself. "They've all returned home to their estates."
The man chuckled to himself as he put the letters aside and removed his glasses. Reaching underneath his desk, he pulled out a decanter of wine and a glass. As he poured himself a late drink, he noted that he hadn't been in such a good mood in quite a long time.
As the most important city in the country, Tristania had been governed directly by the Royal Family as opposed to any one nobleman. Yet Princess Henrietta and her father before her simply lacked the time to handle the day to day affairs in the city and the territories under their direct control as they ran the entire country. Consequently, Henrietta's father had appointed a mayor to handle the usual tedious bureaucratic affairs and execute the king's and later the princess's wishes. As someone who had worked his way up from being a mere son of a small trader, the man at the desk had faithfully done his duties to manage the city under both monarchs.
Despite the immense honor of the position, the Mayor did not have an easy position. The nobles had never respected him, and Cardinal Mazarin had frequently intervened in tasks and events which were none of that religious man's business. There had been little which the mayor could do about it thanks to the close relationship between Mazarin and the Royal Family, but he had done his best to keep order and safety in the city. He knew that he was not well liked – his many years in power meant that he had stepped on many toes, both noble and commoner, to govern the city properly. The press, currently led by that blasted old printer, had been continually calling him corrupt.
The Mayor couldn't help but shake his head at the thought. Corrupt? He was far better than the mayor before him! That man had no other desire than to accumulate personal wealth and had been so blatant and egregious in his crimes that King Henry had been forced to throw him into the dungeons. He knew that he was nothing like that. Yes, he had given and taken a few bribes, but those were for projects which really would help the city, and he had to persuade people somehow. He had even attempted to reform the tax system in the city to become simpler and easier for the rabble to comprehend, not that those ignoramuses cared.
Still, there was plenty to be happy about. He really didn't like to admit that the brewing civil war between the Valliere family and the so-called Alliance had made him better off, but facts were facts. The nobles had returned to their estates to raise their armies, and a few days ago, Cardinal Mazarin had resigned his position as Royal Advisor. There was no one left to advise these days to begin with, but from what the Mayor had heard, Mazarin was simply disgusted and irritated towards both sides. While he retained his position of Cardinal, he planned to devote himself to matters of the soul and to stay out of politics. Consequently, for the first time in the Mayor's tenure, there was no one who could tell him what to do. He rather enjoyed it.
For now, the Mayor really did not care who won the war. He had a city to manage without interference, and he would continue to devote himself to the duties of his office. No one would mess with-
THUD.
Just when he was about to drink a toast to celebrate his new power, the Mayor heard a loud noise from… somewhere in the building. Confused, he set the glass down and looked at the door in front of him. As he continued to listen, he heard other sounds, of things being broken and smashed. What was noticeable was the ever louder sound of footsteps, even though he knew he had been working alone…
SMASH.
With one blow, the door to his office was kicked down. A man, with thin hair draped over his head and wearing a splendid blue military uniform covered by a grey greatcoat, strode into the office. A dozen soldiers armed with a combination of muskets and uniforms accompanied him.
"G-general Bonaparte?!" The Mayor half-stammered, half-yelled. "What are you doing at this late hour? Why do you have soldiers with yo-"
Without the slightest indication that he was paying attention to the Mayor's words, Napoleon walked up to his desk and pointed a pistol at the Mayor's head.
"In the name of the people of Tristania, you are under arrest." He quietly said.
"What?" The Mayor mumbled.
"For your crimes against the people, for your corruption and lies, you are under arrest." Napoleon repeated. "Now, get up."
The Mayor did not respond or react to Napoleon's words. His eyes, wide as dinner plates, didn't even seem to recognize the pistol which was pressed against his head. With a complete lack of comprehension, he looked at Bonaparte and the soldiers who stood at attention behind him. His mouth opened and closed as if he wanted to say something, but no words came out.
Napoleon snorted at the Mayor's reaction and pointed his pistol at the office wall.
BANG.
The sound of the gunshot caused the mayor to jump in his seat. Without waiting for a response, Napoleon dropped the empty pistol. He then pulled another one out of his coat and pointed it at the Mayor.
"I will not bother missing again. Get up."
The sound of the gunshot seemed to reawaken the Mayor. He slowly got up, but he waved his arms as words tumbled out of his mouth.
"General Bonaparte, you cannot do this!" He cried. "You-you have no right! I am the mayor of Tristania! Only the Royal Family can remove me from my position! The people will never accept-"
"The people?" Bonaparte stated. "Did you think of the people when you tripled the price of food during the war between Albion and Tristain? Did you think of the people when you demolished their homes to build a park for the nobles in their place? Do you believe, for one second, that the people will rise up to defend you?"
"That was the merchants! There was nothing I could do about-"
WHAM.
Without waiting, Napoleon smacked the Mayor in the face with the butt of his pistol. The Mayor groaned as he toppled onto the floor. Blood leaked from his head onto the carpet, and Napoleon slightly grimaced at the sight.
"That will be annoying to clean up. Foucard!"
A soldier larger than the rest, a great bear of a man with a trimmed beard, stood at attention.
"Yes, General Bonaparte?"
"Take the mayor down to the dungeons."
Foucard nodded at once. He and another soldier bent down to grab one arm of the Mayor and move him off the ground. The fat man groaned slightly as he was lifted up, but he said nothing.
"Wait."
Before the men could escort the Mayor down, Napoleon raised a hand.
"Tomorrow morning, there will be a trial. I want to ensure that all of this man's crimes are made apparent to the people of Tristain. All of them. I'll let Giono determine the judge and jury."
"And?"
"I, I mean we, do not need the enemy making a hero out of the Mayor. When the trial begins, I do not want a man in the dock. I want someone who no one can look at and respect, a shriveling, miserable husk of a man who will do whatever we tell him. I expect you to do whatever is necessary tonight to make that happen."
Foucard nodded again, this time more slowly. He indicated one of the other soldiers to take his place holding up the Mayor. Foucard then picked up his musket, and turned around and slammed the butt into the Mayor's stomach. The man gasped in pain but still said nothing.
Napoleon nodded approvingly, but said nothing more. He watched his soldiers leave with the Mayor and then turned to a nearby window.
"I guess I have to borrow a page from your book, Maximilien." He muttered.
The nobles were fools, he thought to himself. All of them had returned to their estates to muster armies, but how many could they truly summon? Even the Vallieres, he guessed, would have difficulty maintaining a truly impressive army for any great period of time. The other nobles would be much smaller. While they played around with armies, he had, with barely two dozen men, had seized control of a city greater than any estate outside of the Five Families. With the manpower provided by the city and the still arriving members of his own forces, he could field his own army. The need to maintain his popularity meant that he couldn't squeeze the people of Tristania nearly as well as he could with the French or as well as the nobles could with their estates, which meant that he couldn't field an army that would be much bigger than even the weakest nobles. However, it did mean that Guldenhorf wouldn't be able to ignore him completely. This was about as great of a start as he could have dared to dream.
He noted the decanter and the still full glass and picked it up. There was still much to do, he noted to himself. A single coup would not suffice to ensure total control over the city. But he had made a good start.
…
A week after Napoleon had seized control of Tristania, a group of soldiers excitedly crowded with each other in the barracks courtyard. It was one of the largest buildings in the city, capable of hosting nearly the entire Royal Army at its wartime peak. Yet as the Royal Army normally consisted almost entirely of mercenaries, it had completely disintegrated in the aftermath of the Albion victory and Napoleon's decision to disband his army at the end of that war.
Consequently, the soldiers in the city consisted of a small peacetime garrison, the soldiers whom Guldenhorf had provided for Bonaparte, and his Guard. Many were soldiers who had never served in the unit before. Some were mercenaries looking for steady work, others were men who Napoleon had sworn into service like he had with Guiche at the end of the Albion war, and others were ordinary civilians who had been inspired by the writings of Andre Giono and the Mayor's trial a few days ago.
It had proven to be quite a spectacle. The Mayor had never been a popular man, but as he had limped to the stand, a broken and flabby man, they had truly realized that his reign was over. Without a word in his defense, he had accepted the penalty of death by hanging and had proceeded to his end. The fact that Napoleon had broken the Mayor so effectively served to awe the crowd, and the press had gone on a blitz explaining the merits of the new leadership and the importance of the war. Many were skeptical about some of Giono's proclamations, but others were inspired to join the new Guard. It had expanded from about 50 men to a smidgen over 200 and at this point helped to keep order in the city.
Now, large contingent of the soldiers gleefully looked out at the courtyard. They thronged around and formed a massive circular perimeter. At the center of the circle, two individuals stood with wands out. One was a young girl with striking pink hair which grew down past her shoulders. Her clothes were far plainer than what she had worn as a student, but she wore a beautiful blue ring on her right middle finger. The other was a handsome man with brown hair, about ten years older than the girl. He wore a long green cape, and a wine flask dangled at his side.
"Are you sure about challenging me, Louise?" Cartier Martin yelled out. "I may be only a line mage, but I don't really think it's the best move for you! I have no reason to fight you, after all, and it would be a shame to scratch your lovely face."
"If you're so confident, then charge at me, you stupid drunken dog!" Louise roared right back.
The crowd cheered in delight as they prepared to watch the dueling mages. Another soldier walked forward between the two with his arm upraised. He dropped his arm, and the crowd roared as the duel began.
"Explosion!"
Martin didn't even have the chance to lower his wand before Louise cast her first spell. It was a fast explosion, one which barely took two seconds for Louise to chant and release. But because of the extremely short time that Louise used, the explosion radius was barely a meter wide. Martin had spent too many years as a mercenary to be hit by such an attack.
"That was fast there, Louise!" He yelled. "Not bad! I had planned to mess around and use some ordinary wind spells at first but I guess I'll-"
BOOM
The next explosion was more accurate. Martin realized just in time that Louise was casting again in time to dodge, but the blast of light grazed him and burned a hole in his sleeve.
"Hey, hey, hey! Calm down Louise! You can blow me up, but don't touch my clothes! I just got this cape last week to impress ladies like you and AW FOR BRIMIR'S SAKE!"
This time, the explosion singed his hair. After three of them, Martin finally realized the situation he was in.
"You're actually serious about this, girl?" He observed. "That's different from your duel against Touraine. Guess I have to end this quickly, then."
He twirled his wand and pointed it at himself. Louise still continued to say nothing as she prepared the next spell.
"Explosi-"
"Speed."
Martin's spell was cast and he shot forward towards his opponent. As Louise was already in the process was casting her fourth explosion, she couldn't stop herself even when she noticed the attack. The fourth explosion fired where Martin had been a half second ago, but Speed flung him in a straight line towards Louise at a rate which the human eye could barely follow.
It's a damn shame, he thought. I know she's a Void mage and I'm a line, so the Void mage should normally win. But speed magic is just an incredibly poor matchup for her and I'm more experienced. Oh well. I'll give her a hug after this. Maybe grab some as- WHAT?
Louise was gone. He had been looking straight ahead, directly at her. But she had suddenly vanished.
Martin had cast his Speed spell with the intention to slam into Louise. The impact would have stunned her and turned the duel into a close-combat fight, one which Martin knew he would win thanks to his experience. Without anyone to stop him, he continued to shoot forward until the spell ran out.
But even if Speed had worn out, Martin's momentum had not, and he continued on a moment longer until gravity and friction combined to rudely slam him onto the ground.
"Ugh, damnit," he groaned as he rolled onto his back. "Where are you, you little-"
Martin never managed to finish his sentence as he noticed a pair of black shoes and the girl who owned them falling through the air. Before he could move, Louise landed feet first on his chest. The wind line mage yelled in pain as a result of the impact and his wand tumbled out of his hand. He tried to scrabble away from Louise and regain his weapon, but then Louise shoved her wand in his face.
"Do you yield?"
Martin blinked and his arms fell to his side. But he said nothing as he looked up at his opponent. Louise dug her wand a little deeper into his face.
"Do you yield?"
Martin raised an eyebrow towards Louise.
"You know Louise," he loudly whispered, "You may be pretty, but I have to admit after this that I probably prefer nicer ladies. Sorry, you're just not my type."
Louise's face deeply blushed at those words and she raised her wand as if she intended to skewer Martin's head on top of it. Martin couldn't help but laugh at her reaction before coughing in pain.
"Okay, okay, okay, I yield! Geez Louise, what the heck did you do anyways to get in the air like that? You'll kill someone with that spell someday by falling like that."
"I teleported."
"Teleported?" Martin repeated. "Into the air? You really do have an impressive arsenal of spells, Louise."
Louise grinned in response, but then she was suddenly grabbed from behind. The crowd which had watched the battle hoisted her into the air and onto their shoulders as they cheered.
"You won, Louise! Congratulations!"
"That was impressive, little girl!"
"H-h-h-heeeyyyyyy!" Louise shrieked. "P-p-put me down, you idiots! PUT ME DOWWWWWNNNNNNN!"
Her cries proved to be of no use. The soldiers had taken a liking to Louise over the past few days. While they knew that she was clearly a noble of some kind, most of them seemed to just think that she was Napoleon's daughter. "The General's Kid," they endearingly called her, someone who tried hard with her magic but who got embarrassed so easily.
As Louise struggled to remove herself, she noticed a mop of blond hair away from the crowd. A young man leaned on one of the walls of the courtyard, watching the roaring crowd but not saying a word. And as Louise looked at him, she noticed that he held a single rose.
"Guiche?"
The blond man looked at Louise for a moment and then walked away. Louise wondered to do and whether she should try to talk to her former schoolmate. But before she could reach a decision, a bearded man with a torn uniform rode into the courtyard.
"What are you DOING, you empty-headed idiotic sons of donkeys?!" He roared as he drew a sword. "You disorganized bunch of foolish sloths, you men would not be fit to clean my house much less fight here! Get back to your barracks, and I expect every single one of you back here in ten minutes for formation drills!"
The men stopped what they were doing. While some grumbled under their breath, they obeyed the commands of Captain Jacques Edouard Bernard Stewart. Out of Bonaparte's direct subordinates during the short phase where he commanded the army in Albion, Stewart had been the only of the four who had returned to fight for Napoleon. Touraine was neutral, Robert de Gramont had chosen to fight for his father and the Vallieres, and Julio, as far as anyone knew, had returned to Romalia. Consequently, Stewart had been promoted to be Bonaparte's second in command. While Napoleon never hesitated to mingle among his men given the chance, it was Stewart who drilled and harassed the recruits and men into soldiers.
The soldiers quietly put down Louise and drifted to their barracks. Stewart then walked over to Louise and doffed his plumed hat to her.
"A pleasant day to you, Louise. You should know that General Bonaparte has returned."
"Good day, Captain Stewart." Louise politely replied. "Thank you for telling me. Is he busy?"
"Regrettably, yes. Still, he instructed me to tell you that he will be hosting a council later tonight at your home. He asked me to tell you to come."
Louise nodded in response and Stewart returned his hat to his head. Then he rode off to the barracks, shouting more curses at his soldiers all the while. Louise tried to look for Guiche, but in the scrum of men milling about as they prepared to drill; there was nothing she could do.
…
While Bonaparte's soldiers were stationed in the barracks of Tristania, his headquarters rested in his home in the Upper Quarter of Tristania. The Upper Quarter remained peaceful and civil, even with the outbreak of civil war, not least because there remained very few people thanks to the departed nobles.
Louise had contacted Matilda, and her servant and teacher followed her into the main dining room of her home. She noticed many of the other individuals who had been invited as part of this council. Captain Stewart sat at the table, a lit pipe in his month. A few other soldiers sat next to him, including Martin, Owen Foucard, and Guiche. Foucard, the brawny man, in particular seemed confused to be there, while Martin gave a flirtatious wink at Louise which she happily ignored. She also noticed Andre Giono as well as a few other individuals who she had never met before. At the end of the table, Napoleon sat.
"I'm glad you're here, Louise." He smiled. "We were all waiting for you."
He stood up and extended a hand to her.
"Gentlemen, I am aware that most of you know this new arrival, but I believe in the importance of introductions. My partner, Louise Francoise le Blanc de la Valliere. For better or for worse, she has been exiled from the Valliere family by her mother, who you all know extremely well. Consequently, I have chosen to place Louise under my protection. She is a capable and powerful mage."
There was plenty which he didn't say, but Louise understood. The two had discussed it already, privately. Obviously, the fewer people knew that she was a Void mage, the better. While there were plenty of people who did know, such as Matilda, Giono, and anyone who had actually seen her cast Void magic, it didn't mean that she would go around boasting about it. She had persuaded Napoleon to tell the truth if directly asked, but only then.
Similarly, they had both decided not to mention that Napoleon was in reality Louise's familiar, and it was not only because of his ego. He had observed that if the other nobles knew, it would hinder his ability to gain their respect. While obviously Louise's mother knew, that was of no importance since she was Napoleon's and by this point Louise's enemy regardless.
The rest of the members stood up and bowed to Louise, but said nothing to her. Louise curtsied in return and took a seat opposite that of Napoleon. Her partner nodded in acknowledgment and turned to Giono.
"Andre, would you care to inform everyone of the problems with security that you had discussed with me?"
"Certainly," the old printer said. He slipped on a pair of glasses and pulled out a sheet of paper.
"As I'm sure everyone in this room can guess, control of Tristania will play a key role in determining the outcome of this conflict. In that regard, we are fortunate. Guldenhorf directly borders us to the north, while the Vallieres and the Gramonts control eastern and western Tristain respectively; both are fairly far from us. The Walloons are closer to the south, but they are in no position to attack us, while Wardes is sandwiched in between the Vallieres, the Guldenhorfs, and Walloon. While there are smaller nobles who support the Vallieres that are close to us, I think that for the time being, we are safe from external threats.
Here, however, the problems begin. The old mayor had a town watch to keep order in the city, though they generally relegated themselves to catching thieves and common criminals. While we have been able to maintain those men, that will not be enough. Spies and infiltrators will enter Tristania. I personally have been aware of a few who have entered, but I don't have the muscle to do much beyond roughen them up a bit."
"Couldn't you hire mercenaries to catch them, Giono?" Captain Stewart asked.
"For the short-term, yes." Napoleon cut in. "But that is not a long-term solution at all. We've already discussed the importance of the rearmament project, Captain Stewart. I will not have our soldiers armed with melee weapons or arrows. They will carry guns. I have a design for flintlock guns which several gunsmiths in this city are working on, but for the short term, the men will use matchlocks. Recruiting new soldiers, giving them new weapons, and simply running this city? Captain Stewart, our resources are stretched as it is."
"We're defending the city." Stewart responded. "Surely we can impose additional duties on the commoners for their protection."
"Perhaps, but the lack of resources isn't the only problem. I don't want mercenaries. I want men. Honorable men, who will do whatever is necessary to ensure that Valliere influence does not linger in Tristain. Not sellswords, but men who understand the importance if this mission. They must be tough, ruthless, if necessary, brutal."
"You want to create an organization of such men?" one of the young bureaucrats asked. "I know a priest who I think would be well qualified to handle such a task."
Napoleon shook his head.
"I would rather not use a priest. They're too independent. Foucard!"
The large soldier stood at attention.
"Yes, General?"
"You were raised in this city, were you not?"
"In the slums, sir, before I became a mercenary."
"All the better. I am placing you in charge of this new organization. Call it whatever you like, though check it with me first."
"Me, sir?" Foucard raised an eyebrow in astonishment. "I am a soldier, after all."
"That is precisely why I selected you." Napoleon said. "We are at war, and war is chaos. It is during that chaos that we rely on soldiers to restore order, and we must also restore order at home. I want you to head out to the city tonight. Find men who you can trust, men who you know will be willing to do what is necessary to keep this city under control. Make sure they're discreet, but brutal in their jobs. I authorize you to do whatever you see fit in order to carry out this task."
Foucard slowly and finally nodded, then saluted Napoleon. Napoleon returned the salute and then pulled out a scroll of paper. As he unfolded it, Louise noted that it was filled with complicated charts and graphs.
"Now, as for the matter of the merchants…"
The meeting continued from there and shifted to a wide variety of topics such as the governing of Tristain (as he would be busy with the war, Bonaparte appointed a young architect and a colleague of Giono's to be the interim Mayor while he was away), economics, and the preparation of the military. But while Napoleon listened to a series of appointed advisors discuss those affairs, he kept one eye on his partner. Louise didn't know a thing about governing. He knew that. But he noted the rapt attention with which she listened to the other bureaucrats discuss the affairs of governing the Tristania and the surrounding areas.
"Sir, sir!"
A soldier dashed into the room. He stumbled slightly onto the table as he paused to catch his breath.
"There's been a fire, sir. At the orphanage. A big one."
The entire table fell completely silent. Even Napoleon paled upon hearing the news.
"I would like to ask a question, and anyone may answer this. Am I to believe that you would rely on the nobles' magic to handle a problem like this?"
"Yes." Foucard responded.
Napoleon nodded slightly at the news. He knew very well the danger of fire to a city like Tristania. Shortly after he had married Marie-Louise, he had attended a ball in her honor in Vienna – only to barely escape with his life when a fire broke out in the city. He had promptly organized a brisk and efficient firefighting brigade in Paris, where the men lived at the station in preparation for emergencies. But now there was no such organization. If the fire burned down Tristania right after he had seized control of the city, Napoleon knew how the people would react.
"Captain Stewart. Get down to the barracks at once. Organize all the soldiers that you can. Get water, organize the people to fight the fire. Go!"
Stewart saluted and left the room.
"We may not have water mages, but Earth should do to put out fires as well." Bonaparte continued. "Matilda, get to the scene of the fire and-"
He looked over in the thief's direction, behind Louise. But there was no one there.
…
"Damnit, Menvil! What were you THINKING?!"
The younger Wardes cursed silently as he looked out at the burning building. Menvil was insane. He already knew that the fire mage – the White Flame, as he was known – was a completely murderous pyromaniac. But Wardes hadn't anticipated that he would do this – and while he no longer cared much for Tristain, it did not mean he enjoyed watching its buildings get destroyed.
He couldn't help but think back to what had transpired almost a month ago. He had recovered from his injuries in the final battle against Henrietta and had received orders from Joseph – well, to be specific, from that annoying Sheffield – to retrieve Fouquet. To make sure that she didn't reveal anything about Joseph, or Gallia. But then, just as he had arrived in Tristain, Joseph had called him and Menvil back.
Wardes had met King Joseph many times, even before he had officially betrayed Tristain. While he knew better than anyone just how unpredictable the so-called Mad King of Gallia could be, he thought he had seen every emotion and antic from Joseph. He had seen him shamelessly flirt with his courtiers, ferment elaborate and complex plans for an end which even Wardes did not really understand, laugh for hours at some courtier's joke which was not actually all that funny, and even smile once or twice. Wardes couldn't pretend to understand Joseph – he doubted that even Sheffield really could. But he thought he had seen all of Joseph's expressions.
But upon entering the throne room alone, Wardes realized that he had never seen a visibly angry Joseph.
Unlike his previous meetings, there were no guards or courtiers there. The Gallian King sat completely alone on his throne, his chin on his elbow and his brows furrowed.. He held a cup in his hand as he looked at Wardes.
"I want to ask you something, my beloved traitor." Joseph asked. "Can I trust you?"
Without saying a single word, Wardes dropped on one knee before Joseph. The king's eyes narrowed, but after a moment, he nodded.
"That is the best I can do, I believe. I returned because of a mistake I made, something I failed to check. I should have thought about it during my talk with Bonaparte. If I had known that he already had that, I would have asked for her instead of the Music Box and the Water Ruby."
"Her, Your Majesty?"
"Napoleon found the half-elf. And he took her back to Tristain."
Wardes's eyes widened at those news.
"What?"
"Precisely." Joseph nodded. "That is incredibly bad news. Very dangerous. I have even discussed the possibility of invading Tristain to find her with my ministers. After all, if…that occurs…"
Joseph trailed off as he thought to himself. But Wardes, better than anyone else, knew what the Mad King was referring to. If he found her, then…
"But still, Your Majesty." Wardes said. "Perhaps she might make an acceptable sacrifice. If he obtains her, then he will almost certainly stop feuding with you and not attempt to-"
SMASH.
The cup shattered into a thousand pieces as it impacted the wall opposite the throne.
"ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR BLITHERING MIND?! YOU, WARDES?! YOU OF ALL PEOPLE?! WHAT IN BRIMIR'S NAME ARE YOU THINKING?"
"I-it was just a suggestion, Your Majesty." Wardes hastily said. "I was only thinking of your own well-being."
"I go to my courtiers for suggestions, Wardes." Joseph snarled. "I go to you for sensible suggestions. And no, he will get nothing. I will give him nothing, nor will I let him get anything. Even I can discern dreams which are fantastic from those which are completely mad."
The King slumped back into his throne for a moment. Wardes stayed on one knee, not even daring to look up at Joseph's face. Given how angry he was, he may very choose to execute…
"Tee hee hee hee."
Instead, Joseph giggled like a schoolgirl, a hand covering his mouth.
"I am sorry, Wardes." He chortled. "I truly am. I should not have done that. You have been a good servant, after all, and I should not abuse my servants. Right, right?"
He giggled again. Wardes however pressed his face down, his nose touching the floor. It was these moments, when Joseph laughed like this, when he was at his most dangerous.
"Well, anyway," Joseph continued, "If the half-elf has gone to Tristain, we shall simply have to bring her back. You will bring her back. Menvil as well. Of course, Fouquet will almost certainly be close to her, so dispose of her if you find her. But for now, bring me the half-elf. I'll certainly do a better job keeping her safe as opposed to him."
Those were Joseph's orders, and Wardes had intended to fulfill those commands. Upon learning of the orphanage, he had planned for Menvil and him to simply infiltrate the building, grab Tiffania, and be on their way to Gallia before anyone realized what had happened. Nice, simple, and clean.
Unfortunately, Menvil had reacted poorly to the idea and had done…well, this. He had stormed into the orphanage declaring that Wardes could stand guard outside while he would find the elven girl. But as Wardes idly noted a nearby building beginning to burn, he couldn't help but grumble about the White Flame's plan.
"Get out of the way get out of the way!"
Wardes's thoughts were broken by a shout down the street, and then a horse burst onto the road at a full gallop towards him. He simply glanced down at the rider with nothing more than passing interest – only to whip out his wand when he recognized the rider.
Unfortunately for him, Matilda recognized Wardes as well. A wall of earth rose up to block the blade of wind Wardes cast at her. Without even waiting for her mount to slow down, Matilda leaped off, about twenty feet away from her opponent.
"It's been a while, Fouquet." Wardes casually remarked. "You seem to be a little annoyed right now."
"Where is Tiffania? What have you done with her?"
"Nothing. I didn't start this fire, Fouquet. My colleague did. He's in the orphanage now, looking for her. Don't worry, we aren't going to kill her. We'll just take her back to someone who can truly appreciate her talents."
"Forget that!"
Matilda immediately launched a spike of earth at Wardes, but he casually deflected it with his wand.
"Get out of my way, Wardes." She snarled. "I'm going to save her!"
"Save her, Fouquet? Even as crippled as I am, I don't think you can beat me. And Menvil is quite a bit stronger than I am now. So before he comes out and tries to kill you as well, why don't you head back home and-"
The sound of additional hoof beats interrupted Wardes's speech. There were more of them, he noted. Three of them. And as the reinforcements rode onto the street, he took a good look at them. He did not recognize. One appeared to be a mercenary of some kind, while the other looked suspiciously similar to Marshal Gramont. But the third rider…
"Well then," Wardes smiled as Cartier Martin, Guiche de Gramont, and Louise stopped behind Matilda, "How have you been, my former fiancé?"