"Another round here!"
The Charming Fairy Inn was as busy as ever. Jessica hurriedly but expertly wiped down the bar as a customer left. She turned her head back towards the kitchen.
"Can we get some more chicken out here?!"
The cook in the back yelled out something, but Jessica could not tell whether it was assent or dissent. She gave the bar a few more quick swipes, then filled a glass of ale and passed it to another older man at the bar. He was half-slumping from drink, but he raised his head and stared right at Jessica…though not at her face.
"Thank you, thank you." He slurred. "Hey, Jessica, why don't you meet me after the bar is closed for some, uh, private time? A pretty girl like you deserves someone who can treat you right, ya know?"
Jessica smiled in response, but she inwardly resisted the urge to slap him. Just another night, she reminded herself. Fortunately, her father Scarron wagged a finger at the man.
"Ah non non non! My darl-ing Jessica is too busy, mon ami! Too busy for an ugly man like you! Lalala!"
Scarron flexed his muscles and continued to admonish the man. He wasn't doing much other than keeping an eye on the customers around here, but Jessica really didn't mind that she and the other waitresses were doing most of the work tonight. Sometimes, she really had no idea how he had managed to keep the Charming Fairy Inn afloat before she had begun to manage things.
"You would know a thing about ugliness yourself, Scarron!" The man who had flirted with her shouted.
"Ugly? Me? Ah non, I am la plus magnificent belle in all of Tristain! Now, you, monsieur…"
Scarron and the man began to bicker about ugliness, beauty, and the mysteries of nature, but Jessica could see that it was all in good fun. Soon, the man drained his glass and ordered another, both for himself and Scarron. The master of the Charming Fairy Inn threw a muscular arm around the customer and the two laughed. Maybe that was his secret, Jessica mused. She knew how to manage…but her father knew how to get along with the customers better than she did.
The tinkling of the front door signaled the arrival of another customer, and Jessica looked over to see who it was. Her eyes widened as she saw who had entered.
"Goodness gracious!" She exclaimed. "Andre Giono! I haven't seen you in forever!"
The old, thin printer sat down at the bar, exactly where he had sit back when he was nothing than a failed drunkard. He smiled and looked over at Jessica.
"It's nice to see you as well, Jessica." He smiled. "I know you keep some spring water here, right?"
She understood and poured him a glass, her hands slightly shaking. He drained it in one gulp and nodded in satisfaction.
"Delicious." He said before he glanced down at her hands. "Come now, come now Jessica. There is no need to be nervous. Can a man not return to where he used to come in harder days?"
"No, I suppose he can." Jessica admitted. "Still, it is quite a surprise. You've done well for yourself these days, Andre."
"I'm interested in showing the truth, Jessica. Nothing more." Giono replied. "Still, I have done well, yes. But what about you? How has the war affected you these days? I'm sure getting grain and all that has been harder these days."
"We're good for now." Jessica said. "Meat's been more problematic. No one's killing their cows and chickens these days because they want to save them just in case. Still, we have good relations with a lot of farmers around here, so I don't see a problem."
She poured Giono another glass of spring water, but then there was a squeal. Over at the other side of the barn, Scarron had lifted two of his waitresses on each of his arms. He lifted one up in the air with one arm, then the other. The waitresses blushed and smiled, but the rest of them as well as the clientele laughed and applauded at the feat of strength. Giono joined in as well, his teeth flashing while he smiled.
"That's old Scarron for you." He observed. "I should come over here more often. It's good for a man to remember where he came from, after all."
"You weren't born in the Charming Fairy Inn." Jessica wryly observed. "But, Giono. Did you really come here to watch Scarron lift the waitresses and drink water?"
A twinkle shone in Giono's eye.
"Maybe I did. What is it to you?"
"Nothing much. But there's a man who came here this afternoon. He wore a hood over his head, paid for one of our rooms upstairs, and declared that we were not to disturb him for any reason. And now the most powerful man in Tristania shows up here? It's a bit of a coincidence, don't you think?"
"Me, the most powerful man in this city?" Giono said. "Tristania has a mayor now, Jessica."
"Oh, like he could order you around. But for that man upstairs to be so important that you come down in person? He must be someone big, eh?"
"Perhaps. But you never met him, so what does it matter to you?"
Giono reached into his pocket and placed a single coin on the bar. Jessica picked it up.
"Is this-"
"Solid, pure gold." Giono smiled. "So, you never met him?"
Jessica quickly tucked the coin away into her pocket. But before she could answer, the door to the Charming Fairy Inn was slammed open. The noise and the hustle of the bar shut down, and in the silence, five men walked in. They all wore dark blue uniforms with swords at their side.
"Excuse me." Jessica said. "We do not allow weapons here-"
"Are you Jessica? The daughter of the manager?" One of them interrupted.
"W-why yes I am. And who are you? You came in here, you should introduce yourself." Jessica shot back.
"Our names are unimportant." One of them said. "We are members of the Internal Security Army for Tristanian Safety. The ISATS, or perhaps the ISA if that is too long for you. We have reason to believe that an agent of the Valliere family has taken refuge in here."
"Well, I don't know what you're talking about." Jessica declared. "What I do know is that I don't care if you're Lady Valliere herself, I don't allow strangers with swords to just strut about as they please. So be gone, or I'll call the city watch on you."
"The city watch?" The man laughed. "I guess you haven't heard then? The city watch answers to us, girl. I have half a mind to arrest you where you are, but I'll be merciful just this once. But we will be conducting a search here for the agent right here and now."
"What?!"
"What's the matter? You have nothing to hide, do you not? So we'll be conducting a search right now. And if we do find the agent, girl, you better believe you won't get away with it. So do you know anyone mysterious at this bar tonight?"
Jessica's eyes shifted towards Giono. The printer shook his head. But before she could answer back to these strange blue-uniformed men, the drunkard who had flirted with her earlier lurched up to the group.
"You're being mean to Jessica here." He slurred. "I don't like people who are mean to Jessica."
The ISA man wrinkled his nose.
"And I don't like drunks." He said. "Now get out of my way, or else."
"Or else what?" The drunk said. "You gonna use that fancy swords of yours on me?"
"I will. Now for the last time, get out of my way or-"
He never finished his sentence. Without warning, the drunkard swung a fist at the man's face, taking him completely off guard. The agent dropped on one knee, but then…
"RAAAARRRGGGHH!"
With a roar, tackled the drunkard onto the ground. The other patrons stood up, but the other four ISA men drew their swords, and so everyone watched the two men brawl on the floor. The drunkard had the advantage of the brute strength of drunkenness, but the agent clearly knew a thing or two about fighting. Eventually, he got on top and began to wail away at his face.
"You blasted lousy drunkard. I swear, forget the Valliere spy, I'll drag you to the dungeons and let my comrades deal with you, you hear me, you miserable pathetic-"
He would have continued like this for a while longer, but then the agent felt someone's presence. Andre Giono stood in front of him, his eyes blazing.
"What do you think you're doing? Did Foucard send you here?"
"You are-" The man spluttered, rising to his feet.
"Yes. It's me. So, speak up. Did you come here on Owen Foucard's orders?"
"I-I'm under no obligation to answer that!"
"So you did." Giono said. "Well, tell you what. The Charming Fairy Inn is under my protection. So run back to Foucard, and tell him that he is to never send any of his men here again. Do you understand me?"
The ISA man stared back at Giono. Blood dripped from his knuckles, and there was little doubt that he could throw Giono on the ground like he had just done to the drunkard. But the old, thin printer stared right back, and finally the man nodded.
"Come on." He said to his comrades. "We'll be leaving. But we won't forget this, printer."
Without another word, the men stormed off. As soon as they left, the patrons swarmed to the drunkard. His face was bleeding heavily, and thus a few of the men lifted him up.
"We'll need to get him to a room, Scarron." One of them said. "I'm sure you're all right with that?"
"Mais of course! Please, please, this way. I shall tend to him with my finest medicines! Quelle brave homme!"
The men carried the drunkard through the inn and passed the bar. Jessica came up and looked at the drunkard, her expression filled with worry.
"Are you alright, sir?"
"I've felt better." The drunkard said. "But I would feel right as rain with a kiss from a pretty girl."
The men guffawed, and this time Jessica openly rolled her eyes. But after a moment, she bent down and gave him a quick peck on the cheek.
"Well, this is the best day of my life!"
The men cheered, and the drunkard sang praises to Brimir as he was carried off. Jessica rolled her eyes once more before turning to Giono, who stared at the front door.
"You seemed to know them." Jessica said. "They called themselves the ISA."
"General Bonaparte placed one of his soldiers in command of keeping the peace before he left." Giono responded. "The problem with soldiers is that if you leave them alone long enough, they start thinking for themselves. Still, Foucard's being much more aggressive than I thought he would be."
He rubbed his chin for a moment, then turned to Jessica.
"Don't worry about them." He smiled. "You are under my protection now. Foucard knows better than to tangle with me – he got his job because of Bonaparte, and I'm Bonaparte's right-hand man. I can send Foucard right back to the gutter he came from with a word. Perhaps I should go ahead and teach him a lesson so he doesn't forget his place."
Jessica smiled back.
"Thank you."
"Don't mention it, Jessica, don't mention it. Now if our friend upstairs didn't scatter when he heard the commotion below, I think I'll go have a chat with him. Take care to leave us undisturbed."
…
…
A manticore landed outside a large house. Its rider, long pink hair flowing, stepped down and patted her familiar on the head. She wore an elegant purple dress, and while it had taken a beating from the journey through the air, it still looked as fine on her as the best silks.
"It has been a while." Karin Desiree de la Valliere, the head of the Valliere family and the mother of Louise, muttered to herself.
She looked over at the mansion. It was still large and well-built, but Karin's sharp eyes noted the signs of decay and ruin. A rusted hinge here, a missing roof panel there. The front door was not as polished as it could have been, but two banners, each black and silver, hung by it. The symbol of the Wardes family, a white snake devouring its tail, adorned them.
Karin looked over at her manticore, which nodded and took to the skies. When it had gone, she walked up to the front door of the house and knocked.
~Creak~
The doors opened, but no one was there who could have opened it. As Karin passed the threshold…
"Ugh."
A cold, clammy feeling came over her for a moment, but it was gone before she could even breathe. Karin knew what had happened. The estates of all noble families had some magical defenses that were in place to guard against unwanted intruders. Most did nothing more than alert the household head that there was an intruder, but Wardes had always been far more paranoid. If Karin hadn't been invited, no doubt that feeling would have morphed into a magical attack of some kind.
"Your estate is as gloomy as ever, Wardes."
No one answered, nor did Karin expect one. But she knew that here in his home, the old man was listening. Karin knew the layout of the mansion from when she had been here in the past to discuss marriage between Louise and Wardes's son, so she headed to the sitting room. Just like the rest of the mansion, there was no one there. There were several couches and chairs in the room, and Karin sat herself down in one, waiting for someone to come by.
Karin was good at waiting, but that didn't mean she liked it. But even though she was the soon to be crowned Queen of Tristania, she knew that Wardes would likely keep her waiting for some time. Not because he was busy. If the state of his mansion was any indication, Wardes barely bothered these days to deal with running such mundane matters, and had probably placed them in the hands of some incapable subordinate if anyone at all. No, he was just doing it to annoy her because he could. It was just like him, Karin thought. Wardes always resented how the Vallieres had risen over the generations. They were currently the 5th family of Tristain – but they had once been the 2nd, and honestly they kept the title of 5th out as much of inertia as anything else. There were lesser families which could summon larger armies than Wardes could. But on the other hand, only Wardes was capable of well, that.
Karin closed her eyes and put her hands together, thinking about the situation. She had left the mobilization of the Valliere forces in the hands of Cattleya and Eleanor while she left to handle Wardes. But Eleanor had been badly injured at the hands of the maid whom had killed her husband, and Cattleya was always ill. If Louise had not forsaken her duty and abandoned Princess Henrietta, who knows, Karin thought, she may have been the one who would have had to do her duty and mobilize the forces. But if Louise had done her duty in the first place, then Princess Henrietta would still be alive, and so much would have changed.
Still, she knew that she had the advantage. The Valliere house was the strongest house, and they were backed by Gramont, Walloon, and the majority of the families. If they could bring their strength together…
Creak.
Karin did not open her eyes even as she heard the sound of approaching footsteps. But it was strange, she thought. Her extremely keen senses meant that Karin could tell that a woman was coming. Perhaps Wardes did have a few servants in this gloomy house after all? Certainly he could tell them to do a better job at dusting this place.
The footsteps crossed the threshold of the sitting room, and Karin turned around.
"Is Lord Wardes here-"
Karin's breath caught in her throat. Standing in the doorway, her face scarred and her eyes blank, stood…
"YOU."
Karin stood up from her chair, her killing aura completely loose, and pulled out her wand. Siesta stood right in front of her. The maid who had killed her husband, wounded her eldest daughter, and burned down the Valliere library, filled with precious archives. A white rat – Wardes's familiar, Karin realized – sat on her shoulder.
"How dare you show your face before me? Did Wardes send you as some kind of sick joke? Or is this a peace offering, an attempt to reconcile as he knows that the Alliance is doomed? What is the meaning of this, Wardes? ANSWER ME!"
Karin shouted out those last words. Even if Wardes wasn't physically present, there's no doubt that he could hear every word that she just said. No doubt that slimy voice of his would soon be ringing from the walls…
"Ga ha ha. Come now, come now, Your Highness. Is this not quite rude to shout at someone who has invited you to his home? Especially when he is right next to you?"
"What the-"
Karin's eyes widened. The voice had come not from the walls like she had expected. Wardes himself had not appeared out of nowhere like he had done at the Valliere estate. Instead, the 5th lord's voice…
Came directly from Siesta herself. The maid – or rather, the lord – spun around for a bit and curtsied before Karin.
"Welcome to my humble adobe." Wardes's voice spoke from Siesta's body. "I am pleased to meet you, Lady Valliere. There is much to discuss between our two houses."
"To discuss? Oh yes, there is plenty to discuss. What is the meaning of this, Wardes?" Karin snarled. "You took her body over? It is one thing to dispense justice to this foul murderess, but this? It is not just against the laws of Tristain, it violates what Brimir has taught us!"
"Violates what Brimir taught us?" Wardes said. "Did Brimir teach us to waste our potential? The girl has knowledge. Ridiculous amounts of it. Why should I not make use of it, while also punishing her for the crimes which she has committed against your family? I am no monster, Your Highness – even though I would not have needed it, I explicitly asked and received this girl's consent before I took over."
"I'm sure you did." Lady Valliere's voice dripped with sarcasm. "When has your conscience ever been perturbed by your experiments? And when did an earth mage learn how to take bodies over? Have you always been able to do this, Wardes?"
"In a manner of speaking. This is just a refinement of old techniques."
"Is that so?" Karin said. "Well, if it's just a refinement of old techniques, then surely you won't mind if I just destroy you here and now? You can just do it again, after all."
Karin's wand glowed, but Wardes made no effort to defend himself.
"Are you sure you want to do that, Your Highness? To attack someone who has invited you into his home?"
"Why not? It's not like you'll die." Karin stated. "It'll just be like when I destroyed your body when you invited me here. You'll just create a new body, like you always do. One which doesn't use her."
"Ah, but that is not so, Your Highness." Wardes said. "This spell may be a refinement of old techniques, but it is the first time I have used it. If you destroy Siesta's body, Your Highness, I will die."
"You're lying."
"Perhaps." Wardes shrugged. "And even if I am telling the truth, Your Highness, what is to stop you from killing me here and now? Guldenhorf knows that you are meeting with me, but no one would believe him if he accused you of murdering me to begin with, and I doubt you told anyone but your daughters. Of course, you would be killing someone who has invited you into his home, but if you want to…"
Wardes raised his arms to show how defenseless he was.
"I would say that I do have something of great value for you, Your Highness. I did not just call you here to distract you. But it is your decision.
Karin considered her options. Siesta deserved to die for her crimes. Killing her would be justice. So would punishing Wardes for taking over her body and enslaving her mind. But if Wardes was telling the truth, then Karin would have killed someone who had invited her as a guest. It would be a great and terrible sin. And on top of that…
She thought back to the cold, clammy feeling that she had received when she passed the threshold. Wardes's magical defenses were currently inactive because she was a guest; but they would activate if she attacked him. And while Karin would normally be confident in her ability to handle such magical attacks, Wardes had known of her arrival. If he had orientated them purely to fight against her…
The magical energies at the tip of her wand dissipated, and Karin sat back down on the chair. Wardes took another seat, and put his (her?) hands together.
"Be cautious, Wardes. I may not move against you at this precise moment, but my patience is not unlimited. So, start talking."
"As Your Highness commands." Wardes smiled. "But I also have something of importance to show you. Which would you prefer to deal with, Your Highness? What I can tell you, or what I can show you?"
"Talk."
"Very well. But first a question from me: have you heard from Duke Walloon lately?"
"I have not." Karin said. "I had hardly returned to my estate before you contacted me. If Walloon has sent me anything, then my daughters will have received it."
"Then you should know that Pope Vittorio is highly interested in this war. As well as Joseph. I have reason to believe that the former has dispatched his top aide, Julio Chesare, to Tristain. As for Joseph-"
"I knew that already." Karin cut off. "Or rather, it's patently obvious. Do you think I am so foolish as to not know that a civil war will attract outside vultures, especially a country as small as Tristain? You and Guldenhorf certainly do not seem to know that."
"Say what you will, Your Highness, but that is not the truly important thing about them. It concerns your daughter, from a certain perspective."
"Cattleya? Eleanor?"
"No." Wardes sighed. "No, Louise. You of course know that she is a Void mage?"
"I've known for a while. General De Poitiers was the first to tell me. What about it?"
"What do you know about the Void, Your Highness?"
"Get to the point, Wardes." Karin brusquely said. "What is it you want to say?"
"Very well. As you know, Void is the legendary magic used by Brimir 6000 years ago. There have been no users between Brimir and Louise, is that not what you believe?"
"Are you saying that there are more?"
"There are four Void item, and four Void rings. Before the chaos created by the Albion war and the death of Princess Henrietta, the four nations of Tristain, Gallia, Romalia, and Albion all held one. Similarily, my research has led me to conclude that there are four Void mages. Not one."
"Four then? Are you saying that you know who they are?"
"I know who one of them is." Wardes said. "The Pope is one. I've seen it myself."
Karin looked long and hard at Wardes, searching his face up and down.
"I'm surprised your rats managed to get that far into the Pope's headquarters."
Wardes grinned at those words. It was almost like the grin of his old body had been transplanted onto Siesta, Karin thought. The white rat on his shoulders stood on her hind legs and let out a shrill squeal.
*rustle rustle rustle*
*scatter scatter scatter*
*cheep cheep cheep*
The sound of squeaking, living things began to reverberate throughout the room. Then seemingly out of nowhere, rats emerged into the sitting room. Dozens and dozens of the creatures gathered around Wardes, though not one of them dared to come close to the chair which Karin sat on. Wardes turned and looked at the white rat perched on her shoulder.
"What can I say?" He said, stroking Lady's chin. "My familiar is the queen of all rats. There are very few places where they cannot go. They used to be unable to head to the Academy, for example, with Osmond's familiar guarding the castle, but with his dismissal…well, I have no reason to send them there anyways. But yes, Pope Vittorio is a Void mage. And he's up to something big with it."
"What?"
"I don't actually know. My rats didn't survive very long there in the end. But I'm sure he'll be contacting Duke Walloon any day now, given the close ties between him and the Church. So be wary of both of them."
"And what about Joseph?" Karin asked. "Do you expect me to handle him as well while you and Guldenhorf continue this civil war?"
For the first time in this conversation, Wardes frowned.
"No." He responded. "Joseph is mine. I will handle him. Alone. I do not want, nor do I need your help."
Karin raised an eyebrow.
"You are the weakest of the Great Families, Wardes. Yet you are saying that you can deal with King Joseph Gaul, who practically holds more strength that all of the Tristanian nobility combined? Is that what you are claiming?"
"I am not interested in your input on this matter." Wardes coolly said. "I have told you all I wish to tell you. But there is something I wish to show you, Lady Valliere. Something important which has come from my laboratory. Would you please follow me?"
Wardes got up off the chair and walked past Karin. But then Karin's arm reached and seized one of his arms.
"You dragged me all the way out here to talk, Wardes." Karin said. "So I am going to ask you a question, and you are going to answer truthfully. What is your goal?"
"Whatever are you talking about? To prevent you from taking the throne, of course."
Karin's hand pressed even deeper into the thin arm.
"Don't lie. You've been planning something for a longtime, well before Her Majesty died. You've let your estate fall into disrepair. You have practically no servants here, you've possessed that maid, and now you experiment in that laboratory of yours for weeks upon weeks. No doubt whatever is in there is the result of some twisted experiment. So answer me, Wardes. What are you pursuing?"
A thin bruise appeared on the arm, so tight was Karin's grip. But Wardes seemed to take no issue with it.
"Let me ask you a question, Your Highness." He said. "Why are we nobles?"
"What sort of question is that? We are nobles because Brimir has given us the gift of magic, which is an indication of our right to rule. In addition-"
"There is no 'in addition', Karin. We are nobles because we have magic. That is all there is to it. Not because of our estates. Not because of our wealth, or our lineage, or because we are somehow more virtuous than the commoners. We rule because of magic and that alone. If somehow, all the nobles were to lose our magic, the commoners would have us all killed within a week."
"So what?" Karin asked. "Your experiments are to strengthen your magic so you can rule without virtue? With the brute force of our wands?"
"We rule with the brute force of our wands anyways, Your Highness." Wardes laughed. "But no, that is not what I am saying. What I am saying is in fact the opposite – a truly noble house does not concern himself with a fine estate, or wealth, or prestige. If we are nobles because of magic, the truly noble thing is to expand our magic to the utmost capabilities. Not because of wealth, or to defeat our enemies, or because it would enable us to rule. Magic should be studied for magic's sake. It is for that reason I intend to use Siesta's knowledge. Nothing more, nothing less."
"So then tell me, Wardes. If what you're saying is true, and you're studying magic for magic's sake and care nothing about power…then why are you helping Guldenhorf?"
Wardes smiled.
"I refuse to answer that question. You cannot surely expect me to reveal all the cards in my hand, Your Highness. Now, would you kindly release me?"
"No."
"Pardon?"
"You heard me." Karin said. "You're telling me what I want to hear, Wardes – or rather, what you want me to hear. I don't know to what end, so I want the straight truth. If your goal is really to study magic for the sake of magic, that would be one thing. But working with Guldenhorf and triggering a civil war doesn't fall in line with that. So answer me, Wardes. Or else we will see how good your magical defenses are."
Wardes stopped smiling. This time, the two of them stared daggers at each other. Nothing happened for several, long moments, until…
"Squeak!"
YANK
Lady gave a sharp squeal. Karin glanced at the rat for one second, and that was enough. Wardes ripped the arm out of Karin's grip, and jumped like he never could have with his old body. Leaping past the chair he had been sitting on, he kicked it towards Karin, who drew her sword-wand
SLASH.
No spell was uttered. Karin's sword-wand struck twice, and the chair fell into three pieces. But Wardes had already retreated to the far side of the room. Rats swarmed all over his extended arms and the floor, and he hissed a single word.
"Feed."
An army of rats charged, and Karin's wand glowed with magical power. She was far stronger than Wardes; but Wardes knew that. So what was his plan to beat her, here in his home? If she was careless and didn't figure out what his strategy was…
…
…
A little under a dozen assembled noblemen sat alongside a great table in the Duke of Guldenhorf's tent. Count Kundera. Count Noyon. The Count of Burgundy, The Duke of Richemont, and others. At one end of the table sat Guldenhorf, his daughter Beatrice besides him. On the other end, General Napoleon Bonaparte sat, his arms crossed over his chest.
Bonaparte grumbled slightly to himself. Guldenhorf had his daughter alongside him so that she could learn about the war, but Louise was not with him. Matilda had not ridden alongside Napoleon's soldiers, but had instead stayed behind in Tristania for a short moment to take care of Tiffania and ensure she would be fine. But she had finally arrived not an hour ago, and had promptly dragged her master Louise off to train her, both in magic as well as in knife fighting. She could have waited, Napoleon thought.
"So, you are saying that Walloon and Gramont have managed to link up?" Count Noyon asked.
"Yes." Guldenhorf said.
"It is nothing to worry about." Count Kundera piped up with his thick accent "We still outnumber Walloon, Gramont…3 to 2, yes? So we have advantage."
"We have around 30,000 men here, and our best guess is that Gramont and Walloon have a little under 20,000." Duke Richemont responded.
"What about ships?" Count Burgundy asked.
Guldenhorf smirked.
"It went better than even I had expected." He said. "The Royal Navy is stationed at La Rochelle. La Rochelle is in Guldenhorf territory. I managed to bag nearly all of them. Combine that with the ships I own, and the result is that Vallieres just have the ships they own, the few that managed to escape my attack on La Rochelle, as well as the ships that Gramont owns. Tristain had 90 ships at the start of this war. We have 56."
"Hold on a moment." Count Marmont said. "Guldenhorf, if you have 56 ships, where are they? I've seen some ships floating around the camp, but not nearly that many."
Guldenhorf's grin faded a bit.
"Most of them are in the east. With my brother."
No one said anything for a moment. Noyon's mouth slightly dropped open, Burgundy gaped, and Napoleon put his face in his hands. Finally, Richemont quietly spoke up.
"What?"
"I didn't have a choice!" Guldenhorf threw up his hands. "My brother is guarding the east against the Vallieres, but he only has a little over 5,000 men! Wardes may be able to help him there, but even then, Karin will utterly destroy him! Besides, we still have 15 ships! Gramont doesn't have more than 10, and Walloon doesn't have any. We still have the advantage!"
"Oh really, Duke Guldenhorf." Burgundy rolled his eyes. "Did you forget that Marshal Gramont defeated a Germanian army 20 times his size? And he had no ships at all? You're willing to face him when you just outnumber him 30,000 to 20,000?"
"Well, what are you saying?" Guldenhorf cried out. "Should we just wait until the day comes when he outnumber Gramont 25 times over and hope for the best? We should attack now. Time is on their side – Gramont and Walloon may have linked up, but he still hasn't gotten most of the other pro-Valliere nobles to join up with him. If Count Grandple alone arrives, Gramont will nearly have as men as we do."
"Who in Brimir's name even gave you the right to send all those ships to join your brother?" Duke Richemont said. "Sometimes, Guldenhorf, you seem to forget that we're not fighting against Valliere domination just so you can dominate us instead. What, you want to lead the attack, beat Gramont, and seize all the glory for yourself?"
"Who else is to lead us?" Guldenhorf shouted. "We need unified leadership, we can't have every noble commanding only his own men. Walloon no doubt has placed all of his men under the command of Marshal Gramont, it stands to reason that we need to do the same! And over half of the soldiers here are under my command! Therefore-"
"Therefore what?" Count Kundera shot back. "You think you can fight Gramont alone? Then go do it! You need our help as much we need yours. Not to mention, Guldenhorf, what experience do you have with war?"
"W-what? I served in the war against Germania!"
"You were stationed at the Gallian border then, Guldenhorf." Burgundy sighed. "Or what? Did King Robespierre launch a secret attack that none of us knows about? I fought at the Battle of the Beuand River!"
"And I fought at Albion." Bonaparte suddenly said. "I helped save what forces we had and rallied them after General De Poitiers bungled the defense at Saxe-Gotha. I occupied the city of Tristania. I can lead the Alliance to victory over Gramont."
The nobles looked over at Napoleon in some mild surprise. After a moment, Count Kundera rubbed his chin.
"General Bonaparte IZ head of alliance," he observed. "And he does have a point. Maybe…."
"Hold on a second!"
Beatrice von Guldenhorf had not spoken a word since the conference began, but then she raised her hand, almost like she was back in the classroom.
"General Bonaparte, was it? Have we met before?"
Oh, darn it.
"We met when my soldiers arrived at the camp." Bonaparte deflected.
"No, not that." Beatrice shook her hand. "I've seen you before. With Louise. But then the only time I've ever seen Louise is…"
Her eyes lit up, and she burst into laughter.
"Hold on a second!" She giggled. "You're the Zero's familiar! That's where we've met before! Father, I can't believe this. I was shocked when you told me that the head of the Alliance was a landless commoner, but a familiar?!"
All of the nobles slowly stared at Bonaparte. Finally, Guldenhorf spoke.
"Is my daughter telling the truth?"
"Louise summoned me, if that's what you're asking." Napoleon smiled. "I've never denied it. And besides, I'm not sure how it matters."
"How it matters?" The Count of Burgundy cried out. "General Bonaparte, I've never liked making a commoner the head of our great Alliance! True, you are capable, but it was an affront to my dignity! But for a familiar to lead us? And for a familiar to lead the fight against Marshal Gramont and to seize the honor that would come with beating him? It's utterly insan-"
Count Kundera suddenly seized Burgundy's shoulder, who turned in surprise.
"What are you doing, Count Kundera? I have not finished-"
"Quiet."
There was an edge to Kundera's voice, and his accent had vanished for that one word. Slowly, looking incredibly unsure, Burgundy sat down and Kundera cleared his throat.
"What Count Burgundy says is true." He continued. "If someone were to fight Marshal Gramont, and beat him, it would give him great prestige. So much so, that he could possibly dominate our Alliance…unless there were contributing factors."
The eyes of practically every noble in the room lit up, and many of them ahhed and mmhed. Only both Guldenhorfs looked nonplussed by what Kundera had said, who turned back to Napoleon.
"General Napoleon." He said. "I would be willing to place my troops in your disposal for the coming campaign."
"As would I." Said Count Noyon.
"And I." Said other.
"H-hold on a moment!" Guldenhorf spluttered. "General Bonaparte's been deceiving us the entire time! And now you want to hand control of our armies to him? Is this a joke?"
"He never deceived us." Duke Richemont said. "And besides, Guldenhorf, if you don't want General Bonaparte commanding, who will? We need unified leadership. I own the second largest army aside from you, so will you consent to let me take command of your soldiers?"
Guldenhorf opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out. Instead, he closed it, and then stared at Richemont with a mixture of contempt and irritation. The Duke turned towards Napoleon
"General Bonaparte." He said. "I accept. My soldiers will be at your disposal in the campaign against Gramont. I believe every noble here in the room has no problem with this?"
"I do!" Beatrice cried. "It's disgraceful! You can't let a familiar lead you all, where is your sense of honor, you-
"Beatrice, QUIET."
The Duke's voice boomed, and her eyes wide in fear, Beatrice instantly shut up. Guldenhorf ground his teeth, but then forced himself into a smile.
"Very well." He muttered. "General Bonaparte, my men will be at your disposal. For now. You better not screw this up."
"My thanks, Duke Guldenhorf." Napoleon smiled. "And the same to the rest of you. I will not forget this opportunity you have given for me to prove my value to the Alliance."
Yet while Napoleon outwardly smiled and then went to personally think each and every one of the nobles, he inwardly seethed.
You pathetic ingrates. The Alliance is bound together by mistrust and hatred toward the Vallieres, but you nobles barely trust each other more. It's as Kundera implied – if any one of you actually defeated the legendary Marshal Gramont, then more likely than not that one noble would start to dominate the Alliance. The fact that I'm a familiar means nothing to you in the name of keeping things equal – in fact it's all the better, because who could envision A FAMILIAR dominating the Alliance.
Let the familiar take the job. If he wins, we'll split the glory. If he loses, then we'll put the blame solely on him. Such a win-win situation for you guys, eh?
Well, guess what, Kundera, Guldenhorf, Burgundy, the rest of you. You're all about to find out that there is nothing in this world that is as mercurial and unpredictable as the fortunes of war.
…
…
"HAH!"
A young, blonde-haired man danced and leaped on a grassy field. Six soldiers, wearing yellow and brown uniforms, hacked and slashed at the blonde with greatswords. Their movements were strangely peculiar, almost as if they were mechanical creatures. The blonde was armed with nothing more than a rapier. He could not parry the weapon strikes with his own blade, so he jumped around, almost like a cat, dodging the attacks one by one.
"Whoa!"
One strike came a little too close, and the man felt the wind being brushed right past his nose.
"That was a bit too close." He laughed. "Father would be disappointed in me. Now, hah!"
He ducked another sword strike from a soldier in front of him, but now his enemy was wide open. He made a quick stab with his rapier. One blow, right where the heart would be.
However, the soldier did not bleed from his wound. He looked down at the blow, for a long, slow moment…and then crumbled into dust. The blonde laughed.
"One down, five to go! OORAH!"
He continued to dance and clash with the soldiers, slowly picking them off one by one, each with one stab to the heart. Five left, then four, then three, then two. Finally, there was just one opponent left. He dodged a slash from the soldier and prepared for the killing blow.
"Vincent!"
However, the blonde heard his name called. He turned his head back for a split second to see another blonde-haired man pushing a wheelchair. It gave his opponent enough time to recover and-
"Whoa!"
Vincent jumped back and did a few backflips to dodge the incoming blow. Several paces away from the soldier, he stowed his rapier away and pulled out his wand.
"Fini."
The soldier stopped right where it was. Eventually, its human façade fell away, and it turned gray, right back into the steel golem that it was, before crumbling into dust just like his comrades. Vincent de Gramont, the second son of the Gramont family, put up his wand and dashed over to his father and brother.
"You got distracted there, Vincent." Marshal Gramont laughed. "I thought you were better than that."
"My apologies, Father." Vincent said. "But you must admit that I recovered in time, right?"
"Yes, against one of your steel golems. Against a truly skilled opponent, that second you wasted to look at me would have cost you your head. You must remember that the battlefield takes highest priority when you are there."
"Of course, Father." Vincent bowed. "Shall I restart the training program again?"
"Forget it, Vincent." Robert said. "We have important business to discuss. We'll need to get Jean here as soon as possible."
"Jean?" Vincent asked. "Where is he, anyhow? I haven't seen him today."
Robert looked up at the sky. A single large ship floated in the sky. Vincent looked up at the ship, and then his eyes widened.
"You mean, he's in the Honor? The Gramont flagship? Father, you intend for Jean to command the fleet?"
"Is there something wrong, Vincent?" Marshal Gramont asked.
"Well, nothing wrong with Jean commanding. But the flagship is where the commander is supposed to be. You should be commanding our armies atop the Honor."
The old marshal grimaced.
"Vincent, you know how much I hate flying. And on top of that, the heavy winds up that high means that a ship will always be rolling back and forth. Do you think it's wise to put your crippled father up there? One strong gust, and I'll be lying on the deck.
So no, I intend to stay and command our soldiers on the ground. I want Robert by my side to help, you want to be fighting on the frontlines, Walloon wants to stay out of the fighting completely aside from providing men and money given his total lack of military experience, and I'm not letting one of the other minor houses here take command of the Gramont flagship. So, Jean it is."
"So Walloon intends to sit this out? What about Leopold, his son? I haven't seen him at all."
"Leopold is apparently away on a mission of some sorts to Romalia." Robert said. "He won't be taking part in this fight. This army may be a mixture of Gramont, Walloon, and a few other noble families, but it'll be up to our family to lead them to victory."
"Of course, brother." Vincent said. "At any rate, is it time for the campaign to begin?"
"You should not be so eager, Vincent." Marshal Gramont sighed. "I know you want to fight, but as I have told you over and over again, the highest victory is one which is obtained without shedding blood. If things go as I hope, there won't need to be anyone killed."
"Not even on Guldenhorf's side?" Vincent asked.
"They're Tristanians, too." The Marshal replied. "Tristania is a small country, with Germania and Gallia right next to ours. We can't go wantonly shedding blood, even Guldenhorf's blood, without attracting attention from them."
He looked over at the field, where Vincent had been training with his golems.
"The Gramonts have always been earth mages, with a specialty in automatons and creation. Golems, Valkyries, creatures of metal and stone which can fight for us to a limited degree. That does not mean we are cowards. We value honor just as much as the Vallieres do, perhaps even more. Yet while Her Majesty may have her Rule of Steel, Gramont honor is tempered with kindness. Perhaps someday, in the far future, there may be peace in Helgekinia. But until then, it is our duty to serve Her Majesty and Tristain."
The old man's eyes had a dreamy quality, as if they were looking somewhere far away for a moment. But they refocused, and he looked at Vincent.
"Go. Get Jean. Guldenhorf's forces may outnumber us, but they're either going to be led by Guldenhorf himself or General Bonaparte. The former won't outwit me. As for the latter…"
He looked over at Robert.
"If General Bonaparte is leading, let's see if he's as good of a strategist as you seem to believe he is. It's time to prepare."