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"If you must break the law, do it to seize power. In all other cases, observe it."
Gaius Julius Caesar, Dictator for Life of the Roman Republic.
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"The men… will obey… ME!"
"No, Grand Duc de Guldenhorf. The men will obey their general. That is how war has always been conducted."
The Grand Duke glared round, his eyes wild with outrage and disbelief. It had not occurred to him up until this moment that he was facing a most grave threat to his position, a threat that had always been there from the beginning but one that he had made the lethal error of dismissing lightheartedly. Now, it was coming back to destroy him. Only a day ago, he had retaken communication with the Alliance army and had led his fleet in conjunction to inflict several resounding defeats against the second youngest son of the legendary marshal of Tristain, Jean Gramont and his garrisoned brigade in the south. The Alliance had marched south, passing through the Duchy of Montmorency, to beat off the royalists in that direction, before finally marching back north to rejoin Count Noyon's army, and at which point they would seek a decisive battle with the combined Gramont-Valliere army to contest the fate of the kingdom of Tristain. He had been the Alliance's leader, its guiding power, that was how he had begun to see himself.
Now, the commoner-familiar who had been summoned by that pink-haired girl everyone called the 'Zero' stood in front of him. Napoleon Bonaparte, Emperor of the French no longer, in his dirtied colonel of the guard grenadiers uniform - one of the few traces from his old world that had remained with him through his newfound destiny in Halkeginia - presented himself in front of the old Grand Duke of Guldenhorf.
The Grand Duke put up a futile resistance. He had quickly reached to pull out his wand and inflict a killing spell upon everyone in the room, but the guards of Napoleon swooped in from behind the Grand Duke.
"Foucard! Detain his Grace, the Grand Duke of Guldenhorf and his daughter Beatrice Yvonne von Guldenhorf to camp."
"Yes sire."
The duke spat out venomously. "Don't you dare lay your filthy hands on me, commoner!" He resisted valiantly, but the two huge guardsmen gripped his arms and held him back.
"I am still the de-facto head of Alliance. If the captain detains me and my daughter, it will constitute treason to the crown! I am the one who owns half of the army and it's as if you all worship the Familiar!"
Count Marmont spoke to answer.
"We do not worship the familiar, Guldenhorf. But we owe it to him that we enact this change of command for the good of the army and the people of Tristain. But most of all, we owe it to the rightful ruler and future Queen of Tristain, heir presumptive Lady Louise Françoise le Blanc de la Vallière."
The Count of Burgundy also spoke up with slight hesitation.
"It is not only us that has collectively agreed to this change. The army recognizes the Valliere as the young daughter of the Iron Duchess and blood relative to the late king Henry IV. And you, Guldenhorf, they accuse of inciting to sedition - treason: for contesting Lady Karin de la Valliere's claim to the throne which has brought us into this war."
Grand Duke de Guldenhorf stopped. "Treason," he said, repeating it slowly.
"Treason! I should be accused of treason, now, is that it?! I understand exactly what is happening right now. Whatever it is that Napoleon Bonaparte may have said to you, it is all lies. Lies! He is a commoner who is hungry for power, he seeks to also take control of the Alliance - he is already succeeding with you Counts falling for his tricks! But I tell you, Bonaparte is nothing but a fraud. He has lied to his master, he will lie to you again, and he will usurp the kingdom as we know it…"
The grand duke trailed off as someone entered the tent. Louise Françoise le Blanc de la Vallière stepped into the room. The whole tent fell silent, and even Napoleon gave a step to the side, allowing the young girl to take center stage.
"Your grace, the Grand Duke of Guldenhorf." Louise softly began, with a serious look in her eyes as she faced the nobleman. "You stand before the majesty of the second princess of Tristania and the First Dignitary of the renewed Alliance. Bend to this effect, and swear to never challenge the will of Brimir again. The Vallieres have always deserved the line of succession, and it is through me that we will merit the Crown."
Grand Duke de Guldenhorf froze. He parted his mouth but no word dared utter itself from it. Napoleon finally stepped forward and gestured once with a judicious hand.
"Take the Grand Duke, and also his daughter Beatrice von Guldenhorf back to his quarters on the flagship Thunder. Inform the captain of the vessel of this update and disarm any personnel that will dare to resist."
Captain of the 1st Imperial Guards, Owen Foucard obeyed without delay. The Grand Duke of Guldenhorf, stunned speechless and paralyzed, was whisked away by the guardsmen.
A minute later, the screams of a young girl could be heard, as the Grand Duke's daughter was also acquired and sent up to the Thunder, to be imprisoned in the well-furnished royal stern cabin.
"VALLIERE! We'll kill you for this!" Beatrice von Guldenhorf screamed across, as she was ushered by guards aboard the ship.
Napoleon listened to all this commotion from the silence of the marquee tent.
It was music to his ears. He now began to walk over to the high end of the long table in the room, where the head of the Alliance was supposed to be seated at. Napoleon pulled over the chair and stood over the table, hunching a little as he finally slid his hands on the cold hardwood. There was a dirty map of Tristain in front of him.
"What do we do now, Napoleon?"
"We move again."
"And then?"
"And then again, Louise."
Napoleon glanced up to her, now no longer that same lighthearted man the little mage remembered she trained with in the countryside back then. Instead it was replaced by a serious, ruthless military commander that watched her with unforgiving eyes.
"We may fight today, or the next day, or so forth. But we will win those days. And then we will win the days after that, and we will continue to do so - the same thing - win, everyday until we're dead; or, until we've taken back Tristain, and all of Halkeginia."
Louise Françoise le Blanc de la Valliere was standing at the opposite end of the table from Napoleon. Her fists were clenched at the hem of her skirt, as she stared at him with a long frown. Napoleon recognized this expression, having seen it countless times even from his own marshals. It was the look of despair facing a thousand-league abyss, with the greatest hope across it.
"History is earned, Louise." Napoleon said. "In time, people will forget of you as an usurper, but remember you as the greatest Queen of Tristain. But they will not remember you because you won against every one you fought against. Your mother, the nobility, against all of Halkeginia. No. They will remember you because you never gave up."
"What now, Napoleon?" Louise finally uttered. "I did exactly as you told me to."
"And you did, beautifully. With me installing you as the new head of the Alliance, and me as the commander-in-chief of the armies in the field, we are now in a great position. I cannot begin to explain just how much our odds have improved, Louise. With Guldenhorf and his pesky little daughter out of the way, we're in a position to pick a fight with Marshal Gramont, and win it."
Louise still couldn't believe how fast everything had happened. Within the hour, her partner had corrupted the three Counts into mutining with him, the Grand Duke of Guldenhorf had landed the flagship Thunder at Count Noyon's camp and walked straight into Napoleon's trap, had been deposed, detained along with her former classmate Beatrice back to their ship, started to line up all of the nobles and pick out the allies from the enemies, and overall had overturned the entire alliance. All within the hour.
"Napoleon. I still don't understand how you convinced Count Noyon, or any of the other nobles to support you for that matter! How did you do it? Didn't they hate us both?"
"Yes Louise. But they hated each other's guts as well."
"It doesn't add up, still," Louise wondered, a little disturbed.
Napoleon gave a cruel smile. "Louise. When you're considered fresh meat to these people, you kill, and throw them fresher." He said, "Count Marmont and Burgundy disliked me, I know that quite well, but not as much as they did Guldenhorf. I think they all knew it was only a matter of time before the grand duke made his own plays to secure his power, but none of them were strong enough to contest him alone.
"Count Noyon however was quite a different man. You see, an informant has supplied me with interesting news about the count. Do you know the relationship between Count Noyon and your mother, Louise? Well, it's not pretty. Count Noyon had a son, a mage as well. A very roguish young man. Well anyway the boy, being a fire mage, happened to burn down a peasant's house and had caused the death of several people including children who all burned to death. All of it happened within the Valliere estate. Your mother Louise, the duchess Karin, had the boy executed as punishment. Burned him on the stake I believe - an eye for an eye I suppose."
Louise was completely dumbfounded. She stared, shocked, as if exclaiming silently 'no! It couldn't be true!' Napoleon thought of the conversation he had with the count though, with him approaching Count Noyon on the hill before dawn, alone on a horse, and speaking: "I know you hate the Vallieres. You rage against the duchess, count." To which Count Noyon only stared at the emperor. "We will depose the Grand Duke of Guldenhorf, count. Louise Françoise has decided it just and her right to take her place as the head of the Alliance, and I, I will take command of the army. I know you hate the Vallieres, but you will not stop Louise. Either you are with us, or against us," Napoleon added.
Count Noyon only answered, "with all my heart, mine for my son, I loathe duchesse de la Valliere." He stared at Napoleon with blazing eyes. "What I am most concerned of now is avenging my son. That is all. Let the girl, Louise, take the Alliance."
Napoleon spoke again. "That was months ago Louise. As you can see, Count Noyon's wounds are still seared and festering. He is a very keen man, very prudent, and he knew what we were doing. But of course, even prudence must give way for personal vengeance. It can't be helped, but at the end what matters is I have the count on our side. He is open to reason, and he has agreed it would fare us better now that the Grand Duke of Guldenhorf's erratic authority is replaced."
"Do we go and attack Marshal Marmont now?"
Napoleon assessed their maps and statistics on the table. "We must see, Louise…"
Louise said impatiently, "I thought you said we'd beat the marshal before he joined up with my mother!"
"I didn't quite say that, Louise. If I were the marshal, I would know and therefore move to rejoin with the Royal Army and the Valliere estate having been informed of our success in the east and the south, and having driven off the Duke of Walloon and Jean Gramont. He wouldn't be waiting for us to pursue with tempo. Su presto! Marshal Gramont will want your mother and her army to back him…"
"And then we can't win…"
"Don't say that, Louise. But do you know what? I've said that there's a way to inflict the coup de grace to this affair. To win without a decisive battle."
Louise walked around the table towards him, as Napoleon crossed his arms.
"Hurry now, Napoleon! It's only a matter of time before news reaches my mother that I've yet usurped control of the alliance, and even though it was your idea, it will be me who will be subject to her wrath…"
"Louise. We'll march the Alliance army straight back to Tristania. We'll do it straight away, as fast as possible, not even giving the marshal a moment to realize what is happening.
"When we take the city of Tristania, we'll control the capital of the country. The war will permanently be in our favor and Tristain will soon be ours."
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This is bad.
The war had tided over surprisingly fast in a bleak direction. The reports of his son, Jean Gramont's defeat in the south had just arrived during the dead silence of the early morning, adding to the already brutal loss the Duke of Walloon had suffered at a confrontation near a village named Vaupoisson. Now, the old Marshal Gramont rode still on his warhorse wrapped in a gray woolen cloak, his frail old body twisted against the chilly fog.
The Gramont army marched through a soddy field in an early morning retreat. The brothers Robert and Vincent Gramont followed just a few yards behind their father as well, not saying anything, before they decided to ride back and lead at the head of their respective columns. They had not informed the general army of the losses suffered by their comrades further down south, it would not help the morale of the men, who by now were suspecting something was amiss with the order to march away from the enemy they anticipated across the hills.
But the war was not yet over, Marshal Gramont thought. By now it was obvious that the enigmatic familiar of the young Valliere exile named Napoleon Bonaparte was in major command of the Alliance armies in the field. But the news of the rebel Alliance armies attacking and winning two battles in two days, subsequently, was nothing short of a frightening display of brilliance. Marshal Gramont didn't exactly know the structure of command within the Alliance, nor the degree Napoleon played in winning those battles against the Duke of Walloon and his son Jean, but it was alarming.
They had to move, and move fast. To consolidate with the Royal Army, the rest of the still-trustworthy nobles, and lady Karin de la Valliere. Only then could they hope to be confident in surviving an ordeal with commander Napoleon and Louise Françoise de la Valliere.
The marshal had already sent cavalry to screen their rear and guard against any attempt by Napoleon to pursue. What was strange was there was none, though of course it was possible he had still not linked up with Count Noyon and began to move after him. Yes, he knew that the army on the hills was nothing but a contingent of Count Noyon. Still, the fact that Napoleon had played it and played the move so well shook the marshal up some. Marshal Gramont had lost the initiative, and well. Now he was preparing to take anything Napoleon would throw once again.
They marched for nearly three hours until they stopped, just finally entering Valliere land after crossing the Wardes' estate. They met zero resistance, with not even a single mobilized troop under the Duke of Wardes blocking the road. The sky was clear and the sun being very pleasant today, took to lightening up everyone's spirits as they reached a town.
Marshal Gramont saw another entourage riding down the road, just exiting the very gates of the town. It was a lady on a white horse.
The marshal instinctively undid his cloak and stood up straight to salute. "Duchess Karin," he greeted.
"Unfortunately not, Marshal Gramont."
"Ah, it is you, Eleonore Albertine le Blanc de la Blois de la Vallière. Eldest daughter of duchesse Karin de la Valliere."
"Yes, marshal," the golden-haired, elegant Eleanor responded smoothly.
With good grace, the old marshal made a tremendous effort to dismount, hastily assisted by his aide, and offered his hand to Eleanor.
Eleanor answered, a little dismayed. "I'm sorry marshal, but I cannot move off my horse. My limbs… they are in absolutely no condition to support me at all."
"Are you alright, milady?"
"Yes Marshal Gramont, thank you."
"But my goodness, you seem to be hiding something, and wearing your House's campaign uniform…" Marshal Gramont smiled as he looked up to find another young woman riding up beside her sister. She was also wearing the same white-and-gold uniform of a commandant knight.
"Miss Cattleya Yvette La Baum Le Blanc de la Valliere as well. It is a pleasure to meet you, but more so I am concerned since if I recall correctly you were in poor constitution since I last saw you, miss Cattleya. Are you sure you are both fine?"
"I want to thank you, Marshal Gramont, sir," Cattleya spoke softly. "Thank you for believing and putting your faith in my mother."
"Which begs the question: where is the duchess?"
"She's gone off on an errand, marshal," Eleonor answered. "To go after Wardes, I believe. I'm not sure. She's been gone for days now."
"I have not heard or seen her since we marched through Wardes' estate."
"Have you been from a battle, Marshal Gramont?"
Marshal Gramont only shook his head slowly, giving a wrinkled smile.
"What is on the agenda, miss Vallieres?" The marshal finally asked, as he had his aide help him up on his horse again.
Cattleya said, "We're raising an army from our estate. It is something our mother should be capable of doing all by herself, within a week, but both of us would seem to need a month to even form a single column!"
"Well I think you are both doing fine work about it."
"We'd appreciate it greatly if you could offer a hand, marshal. We don't want to give you any more trouble that you already have to handle," Eleonor said, "But we could use some advice. We've never… made war before, and never anticipated this day would come."
Marshal Gramont watched them very cautiously. "Are you sure you two are in good condition right now? I mean, miss Cattleya has a debilitating illness, and my, Eleanor. You don't seem too healthy yourself."
"Please marshal. We'll live. We're concerned about the situation on the front."
"Have you heard from my sister?" Cattleya blurted out. "Marshal, have you seen Louise?"
The old man did not answer immediately.
"What I'm about to tell you both, Brimir's name I hope it does not bring you great despair, but Louise has chosen to fight and side with Napoleon Bonaparte and the Alliance."
"W-What?"
"It has been her final decision."
"B-But- "
"We understand that, marshal." Eleanor answered firmly before Cattleya could say anything else. "If it is her decision, and of hers alone, then so be it."
"The girl wishes to tell her sisters, Cattleya and Eleanor: that she loves them dearly, and that you should never forget that."
Eleanor closed her eyes. Cattleya began to shed silent tears, but did not sob, instead simply covering her face with a handkerchief.
"Marshal, we must continue. I ask that you help me raise the Valliere army. The column from Tristania has left the city and is joining us at midnight here, and so is the Duke of Walloon; he has sent a courier which I have received; I've checked the books. As soon as the grand duchess returns, we shall plan how to destroy Napoleon, the Alliance, and retake the Crown of Tristain."
…
Within a cathedral, in the heart of the Romalian capital, the pope sat on his throne.
His messengers rode fast and hard, like the wind, to deliver him news of the turmoil happening within Tristain. The loyalists have tasted their first defeat at the hands of the rebel Alliance. The pope watched all of this with great and penetrating interest, like God with all of creation.
Despite this, it will be another week before Pope Vittorio Serevare would learn of the city of Tristania's fall under the rule of one man, the familiar Napoleon Bonaparte, and a void mage named Louise Françoise le Blanc de la Valliere.
Within a palace, in the grand empire of Germania, the Germanian emperor received his guests while surrounded by his court.
Three weeks it took for the civil war of Tristain to reach Emperor Albrecht the First. He responded with great surprise, to hide the fact that he was now eyeing Tristain with ardent scheming. This was unprecedented. Completely unexpected. The last war between the kingdom of Tristain and the empire of Germania was nearly 80 years ago. It was also then where the Germanians failed at their invasion and were decisively stopped at the battle of the Beuand river. It was a legendary Tristanian marshal that had destroyed his father's dream of incorporating Tristania into their great Germanian empire. By now, the guardian of Tristain, the brilliant Marshal Gramont should be dead. It was time to make war again.
It would take another three weeks for the Germanian Emperor to learn for the first time the might of Emperor Napoleon Bonaparte.
And now, the Alliance marched on through the night, not stopping despite the cold, the light rain, the depressing fatigue. By dawn, the avant-garde had reached the great gates of the capital city of Tristain. Tristania received her soldiers well. Napoleon and Louise and their entourage were the first to return to the beautiful city, its streets still empty and bleak during the hour they had arrived.
For the rest of the day, and of the week for that matter, there would be a lot of upheaval and internal changes to happen within Tristania. Napoleon and Louise both rode up to the Tristanian palace, the massive citadel that stood at the highest hill in the bosom of their city. They entered the palace, and as they walked into the dead silent great hall, Napoleon stopped. He stood at the doorway, and watched as Louise strolled up to the throne, and as the palace staff, equerry and advisors started to reappear to greet her and welcome the Valliere girl's return.
Napoleon stood here, in the mouth of the palace, looking at his partner, and then at the throne of Tristain. He walked back outside again.
As he stepped onto the promenade before the stairway, leading back down to the city again, he reminisced of Paris, of France, and of his Empire once more.
Yes, he stood right here before a great new world, Halkeginia, instead of on a cliff, overlooking the South Atlantic ocean, exiled and doomed to perish on Saint Helena for the remainder of his life. Yes, he did not get exiled to Elba or was punished to know that his dear Josephine died without him. Yes, he read his own biography from that cursed library contained in that ancient plane from Tarbes. He saw himself, emperor Napoleon, in a watercolor painting of him, finally concluded on an island, as he only turned his back on the book's reader. He had also already learned of Waterloo.
A part of him wanted to burn that book. He wanted to embrace this new destiny wholeheartedly. But he kept it, and oh, it had fallen into the hands of that maid, Siesta. Where could she be now? Well, it would be one of the first on his to-do lists. Napoleon slid his hand in his waistcoat again, and started walking down the stairway back down to the streets of Tristania.
END OF PART IV
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