…
…
"There are two kinds of pain: the sort of pain that makes you strong, or useless pain. The sort of pain that's only suffering. I have no patience for useless things."
Frank Underwood.
…
…
Cattleya Yvette La Baum Le Blanc de la Valliere thought of those bitter words; for the past hour it wound in her head as she moaned of it again and again.
'Stop this war, Louise. That's what everybody wants.'
Louise flinched at those words as if she had been scalded with a burning knife—for Cattleya had told her that.
Cattleya didn't mean to come off in that manner. She didn't know what took over her. Then she saw Louise's heart shatter as the girl stepped back.
Even Eleonore was silent when Cattleya was the first to speak between the three of them. It was grievous enough that their mother should receive Louise with silence, scorning her and mocking her title as the 'Grand Marquise', but the Grand Duchess Karin completely refused to give Louise an audience. The whole court at the royal tent followed suit, a humiliating spectacle for their exiled sister as she was completely outed by her fellow nobles.
Cattleya was silent, staring down at the ground. She shouldn't have said that. It was the first time in weeks since she had seen her sister, Louise, and she shouldn't have said that to her. She didn't even know if Louise was alive and safe until then, and she was gripped by dread for the past few days as their messengers brought news of defeat upon defeat of their forces fighting against the rebel armies. Cattleya was secretly relieved that Louise was winning - though she kept this to herself - if only for the consolation that her sister was more likely to survive and not end up captured, or worse.
And she had said worse. Much, much worse.
Eleonore appeared by Cattleya's side and laid a gentle hand on her arm. The older blonde-haired sister wore the same white campaign dress as their mother, and aided herself with a cane on one hand, to hide the fact that she now had a limp, and was far from fully-recovered from the injuries she sustained from an unpleasant surprise that happened many weeks ago.
"That's enough, Cat," Eleonore said with a little smile, trying to cheer her up. "Enough, now."
"Will we ever see her again?"
"Of course."
"Have I driven Louise away?"
"Oh no, of course not Cattleya. You've always been her favourite. Louise is so fond of you. I, myself can't say the same—if anything, I should be the one who's sad."
"This pains the both of us," Cattleya moaned, pressing her palm over her eyes. "I-I didn't mean what I said! I don't know what came over me!"
Eleonore embraced her sister, kissing her, as Cattleya sobbed again.
"That's enough now," Eleonore repeated.
Cattleya wiped her eyes dry with a handkerchief, and in a sudden cold streak glanced at her sister.
"We never should've taken in that maid."
"Cattleya…"
"Mother may be right about one thing. Commoners are savages. Brimir may put fear in us nobles, but it's the gallows for these people."
"This isn't you, Cattleya," Eleonore said sharply. She raised a finger in front of her to make a point.
"We've showered the maid Siesta with much compassion, and look what she did to me—and father! But has that stopped me?"
"Eleonore, this is different."
"It's been weeks now. My dear sister, you've changed much."
Cattleya sniffed. Tear trails lined her cheeks. She gave a frown as she placed one hand behind her, and the other over her mouth.
"Not exactly. I… I just don't have a good feeling, seeing Louise against us."
Cattleya's lips quivered as if she was about to cry, but she remained a serene composure. However, her eyes were sorrowful.
The confrontation was still fresh in Eleonore's memory. How the Grand Duchess stood at the end of the tent, with Cattleya and herself flanking their mother. How their sister, the Grand Marquise, initially appeared calm and composed, for a moment even surprising Eleonore, as what she saw in her sister was no longer the same Louise she had often twisted around—no longer her impudent little sister, but for a moment, a little monarch of Tristain. Eleonore watched then how Louise, at the sight of her beloved family, began to drop her guard and in increasing distress, tried to first approach Cattleya, only to be rebuked without any warning.
It was devastating. It looked like Louise had wanted to flee right then and there after Cattleya shrugged Louise's hug off. Even if Eleonore had been harsh towards Louise for most of their lives together, at that moment she felt an overpowering urge to just run and embrace her. To reunite with Louise, and apologize for all of the pains she had put her through. Instead it had been Cattleya who drove in the first hard stab, and her mother, mean as the devil as always, had twisted it. But Eleonore felt sorry for Cattleya. Her condition was not getting better anymore, and Brimir knows what their mother had put Cattleya through while she had had to take frequent rests and be confined to a bed to regain her strength.
For the past week, they had been riding, rallying levies, surveying the soldiers of their estate and at the same time, having to pull their own weight within the Valliere household in all matters. The Grand Duchess was finally imparting to them absolute trust and duty, but at what cost?
Something was changing with Cattleya, Eleonore thought, inwardly concerned. It wasn't good, because Lady Karin was not helping at all, no matter how sympathetic their mother would act at the end of the day when they were all alone in their quarters. Something changed that Eleonore noticed Cattleya had seemed to stop seeing Lady Karin as their mother any more.
Eleonore finally sighed.
"Cat, you never should've said those words to Louise. That was going too far, almost as if you've inherited mother's tongue. And that's one thing we both agreed to change for the better, didn't we?"
"I didn't mean all that."
"I know mother expects obedience from us both. We're both reduced to obedience, sister. That doesn't mean we cannot show affection for our sister still."
"But we have to fight her now."
"Yes," Eleonore said inevitably. "Because Louise has chosen over family."
"She hasn't!" Cattleya cried.
"I know she hasn't," Eleonore retorted. "But Louise has made her choice. She sides with the usurpers of Tristania, she sides with that damned familiar of hers—she sided against mother."
"Only because you put it that way…"
"The fact remains that we are her enemies now, Cattleya. Until this war ends, we don't know if we'll ever reconcile with Louise–"
"We will."
"Mother might have her executed. That's still a terrible possibility."
"I told you I don't want to talk about that again."
"Brimir, I hope it doesn't come to that," Eleonore said heavily as she closed her eyes. "I hope we'll never have to face Louise in battle, because she'll hardly—no, she won't stand a chance against mother. As it stands, given her choice, we will have to fight her forces. But Cattleya, you really shouldn't have called her familiar, that fraud 'emperor' named Bonaparte, a murderer. Louise took that severely. This will do no good."
"I thought I could trust him. I was wrong."
Eleonore furrowed her eyebrows. She held Cattleya's arm and made her face her.
"Listen to me, Cat," Eleonore said. "I know you loathe Siesta. I resent her too. And Louise… she is having it just as bad as us, and worse, she already has mother hurting her. Now you have Louise starting to think that this was all her fault—maybe, but not that; not what happened to me and father. I know how difficult this is, but accusations like these are dangerous. You must calm down. It's been weeks now. I myself can't even believe Bonaparte could have ordered that kind of operation. I would rather not hope he is that low of a man. But Brimir had been kind; I am alive and now well. That's what matters, Cattleya. Forget about Siesta."
"And if I'm right?"
Cattleya coughed into her handkerchief sharply. A dribble of red blood oozed on the white silk, seeping into it like a painting. Eleonore beckoned her worriedly.
"If I'm right," Cattleya said, giving a despaired smile, "then like mother says, Emperor Napoleon will really be the death of us all. And Louise will be in grave danger."
Eleonore stood there without uttering another word, staring at Cattleya's smile. It frightened her.
…
The town of La Fere had always belonged to the House of Wardes, and is the heart of their estate. It was a pretty commercial town with a paper mill, hundreds of acres of meadows for raising geese and sheep, and was traditionally the waypoint between Tristania and the Valliere estate.
Within a few days after the outbreak of the Tristanian civil war, the vanguard of the Valliere army had marched up to La Fere and occupied the town by force. The two Valliere sisters had already mobilised and levied several hundred soldiers as part of the effort in forming their estate's own fighting force beforehand, but when the Grand Duchess Lady Karin de la Valliere herself returned on the same night the battle of Vaupoisson had been lost in the Duchy of Walloon, she had immediately gone on the offensive the next morning.
In three days, the half-formed Valliere army under the Grand Duchess had invaded the Duchy of Wardes, overtaken the key villages within the estate, and had planted new headquarters in La Fere. Through rapidity, Lady Karin left House Wardes no chance of putting together their forces, even though there were garrisons of proper knights and men-at-arms in his territory. But it was more in part because the estate patriarch, Wardes the Elder, had already been vanquished by Lady Karin, if only for now. The rest of Marshal Gramont's army met up with Lady Karin afterwards.
That was almost 13 days ago. That evening, after the rather depressing meeting of the two Vallieres, the Grand Marquise and the Grand Duchess, and the dubious armistice of La Fere, inside a cavernous blue and purple striped marquee the most prominent of the nobility gathered under the Grand Duchess, Lady Karin de la Valliere and her new royal household.
Lady Karin, uniformed in the white campaign dress of the House Valliere, almost just like as she was in her youth when she served her old friend the late Queen Marianne as a Manticore knight, she stood at the end of the oblong tent with her two elder daughters by her side. Eleonore Albertine le Blanc de la Blois de la Valliere, at her right hand; Cattleya Yvette la Baum le Blanc de la Valliere at her left. Before them, the Gramont House, the Walloon House, the Montmorencys, and the noble commanders of the Royal Army stood.
Lady Karin spoke in an imperious voice.
"Repeat to me our losses once more."
"Nineteen hundred, Your Majesty, from Vaupoisson. Most of those had been captured."
The Duke of Walloon did not look up. Lady Karin turned to her right. Marshal Gramont was standing beside Eleonore, and tilted his head slightly as he glanced up.
"And your boy Jean, what's the state of his soldiers in the south?"
"Jean de Gramont is shoring up his lines, Your Highness. My son has only suffered eight hundred losses, or so. He hasn't been trounced badly. He's en route to join us tonight."
"Very good! We need more honourable and brilliant gentlemen in our leadership."
Lady Karin gave a motion with her other hand. Albert Johndieu de Walloon, the real commander of the loyalist army at the battle of Vaupoisson perked up, and stepped forward.
The Duke of Walloon was initially anxious on what harm Her Highness might inflict upon his son, but inwardly repented and was relieved when Lady Karin brandished her sword and had the young man kneel to dub thee a knight.
Grand Duchess Karin de la Valliere tapped Albert Johndieu's left shoulder first with the flat of her sword, then the right.
"For valour," Lady Karin proclaimed, "And for honour, in the face of an overbearing enemy."
"Your Highness, I cannot—!" the brown-haired young man gasped.
"Arise, Sir de Walloon. Henceforth I entrust to you the command of the Fourth column."
Sir Albert Johndieu de Walloon slowly got up, nodding his head to the Grand Duchess.
Lady Karin turned to Marshal Gramont, who had been looking over in approval.
"I shall do the same for your son Jean, marshal." Lady Karin glanced round and said to the rest of them, "I shall do the same for those who will display such good virtues. I am a just ruler, after all, and I will never withhold honours from those who deserve it. When have I ever deprived any noble family of any right and privilege? A martinet, as some of you may insist—yes! An iron duchess, yes. But I am just ruler; I protect and safeguard my people against the enormous corruption and vices by evils surrounding our beloved kingdom. These will destroy us. I will not fall in the face of it. I am bequeathed with the right to rule over men and nation by Brimir himself, and that is exactly why only I can be the Queen of Tristain."
The tent of nobles began to bow deeply in recognition. The line of commanders knelt. Lady Karin stepped towards the other one of the Duke of Walloon's sons.
"Prince Leopold Katwijk Marie Amierre de Walloon."
"You Highness. I am yours."
"I expect that now, with your return from dealing with the Pope, you will be able to serve."
"With all my capacity, Your Highness."
"Sir Leopold, arise. You will be commanding the Second column."
The two Walloon brothers now both stood side by side, still as stone. Lady Karin continued to walk along the kneeling commanders.
"Baron d'Liege of the Third column. Baron Hanau of the Fifth. Madame Dupuy of the Knights Halle. Madame Mallorie de Bayreuth of the Griffin Guards. Baron Grandjean of the Royal Dragons. And lastly, Sir Robert de Gramont, of the First Column."
The stone-faced Robert de Gramont stood up, looking straight forward as the Grand Duchess finished blessing him.
"Is there anything that you wish to say, Sir Robert?"
"I serve. That is my duty."
Lady Karin smiled. She then faced the marshal.
"Marshal Gramont. The whole army will swear an oath of fealty to me. We will win. We shall liberate Tristania of this treacherous scourge. I shall topple the Guldenhorfs and take back what Henry the First has lost, two hundred years ago. We will crush the Grand Marquess and her familiar, and I shall place myself as Queen, monarch of Tristain and Suzerain of the Five Duchies. I am a just ruler; so only then shall all of you address me as 'Your Majesty.'"
All of the nobles and newly-knighted commanders began to clap their hands and applaud the Grand Duchess.
Throughout this ceremony, the Grand Duchess did not notice one of her daughters progressively step backwards towards the antechamber, away from the rest of the crowd. It was at this moment Cattleya slipped out of the tent.
An hour later, long after everyone had departed, Lady Karin and Marshal Gramont remained in the military tent. Of course, Lady Karin noticed Cattleya slip out. But she would address that impertinence later on.
The truth was those two losses the Royal Valliere Army had suffered last week were quite demoralising, for them and the rest of the nobles who had soon heard of it. Lady Karin had needed to keep this whole, unstable formation together and that meant drilling and training 60,000 men, half of which have no real reason to even fight for her. Lady Karin grimaced at this fact.
Marshal Gramont was the better chief of war, and so she left much responsibility in the old gentleman's hand. But Lady Karin would not be spared from having to shoulder the massive endeavour of defeating the rebel leagues that had holed up in the heart of Tristain.
"Marshal Gramont. This emperor has proven to be more formidable than we've anticipated, no?"
"We've yet to confront him in a pitched battle, Your Highness."
"True, true."
Lady Karin brooded. She kept her hands crossed methodically behind her back as she walked up the length of the tent, then back down. Marshal Gramont stood near a wall, his eyes resting upon the table full of maps and candles.
"With the whole Tristanian Royal Army joining us, this brings our numbers to around sixty thousand soldiers, including the cavalry, yes? And this will be divided into seven columns, so that we will have a sustainable level of operation. I know you're imposing a strange sort of plan, marshal, giving most of the younger men commanding positions instead of the senior nobles as tradition dictates. What else shall I expect, Marshal Gramont?"
"We must prepare, of course; the columns need to be trained, drilled into shape, every day of the week. We have to organize supply lines, begin raising the estates into arms against Tristania, settle accounts and arrange for provisions to be purchased and supplied to the men-at-arms, and to keep our knights and the cavalry in good order. I can count on my three sons; and the Duke of Walloon's two sons are also competent leaders. The Royal Army is our best fighting force at hand, and with the knights from the march of Halle serving under you, Lady Karin, we are properly set with a powerful army. The previous losses sustained by Walloon and Jean were due to a numerical disadvantage; now, we are in a position to match General Bonaparte but the question is whether he will actually give battle."
Marshal Gramont sighed. "I can take care of all this, Lady Karin. But what about you?"
"I've told you so already: I intend to have Cattleya become the next Queen of Tristain. My eldest daughter would have been a better fit, but because of setbacks…"
The Grand Duchess closed her eyes.
Cattleya, she thought. Lady Karin could feel her sick daughter's building resentment towards her.
"Eleonore is getting better now. But she will never walk without a limp again, marshal. The attack by that maid Siesta has devastated a lot of plans for the Valliere family, but we will not fall. Perhaps Eleonore can one day take on the Crown; she has the blood right and the capacity to do so. But as of now, I've discussed matters with Cattleya, and she will be the one to receive the Crown from me.
"I will be the one to take back the Crown of Tristain in this war, even if I have to tear it away from my daughter."
Karin's eyes hung low as she said this.
Marshal Gramont cleared his throat and spoke up. "Your Highness, Louise is already sitting on Tristain's throne. Perhaps we should deliberate whether a peace should finally be reached."
"And surrender with dishonour?!"
"There is no dishonour in accepting honorable terms of surrender. That, I can reach—"
"Are you afraid of emperor Napoleon?" Lady Karin glared up. "Ever since that rogue familiar gave your son Jean a bad smite in the arse, you've started on nothing but ideals of peace and concessions. We've lost two battles, yes? That's because these rebels struck first! We have ten legions of warriors from four duchies and a dozen estates! Tristania will fall within six months if we lay siege upon it now! Remember who you are, marshal. You are the Duke of Gramont-Innsbruck, the first Marshal of Tristain and the hero of the Beuand river! Do you mean to say that you cannot best this clown Napoleon, who has no more than 30,000 soldiers at this moment, who insists that he is an emperor of 'the French'?"
Marshal Gramont narrowed his eyes.
"It's not about whether I can beat him or not, Your Highness. It's about whether this will benefit us and the nation, in the long run. War is not a series of one-on-one duels, Lady Karin. You may be the Heavy Wind, and there is no greater fighter of a mage than Tristain than you. But on a massive scale, like war, Napoleon will beat you."
Marshal Gramont slid one of his freckled, bony hands into the breast of his doublet and sighed.
Lady Karin's face began to turn red, and she clenched her fists so tightly that her knuckles turned white.
"You are a powerful noble, Lady Karin," Marshal Gramont reminded. "And that is why Bonaparte will not contest you on that ground. But in nearly every other way, in war, and perhaps even politicking? Do you remember how Bonaparte twisted your words against you the last time you met him at the Five Families meeting? Because I was there, Lady Karin, and he was able to turn half the house against you with a single insinuation. One thing I have ascertained since playing chess with him this afternoon is that this is not just some commoner of a familiar that Miss Louise has summoned. The truth is we really know nothing about him. If Napoleon Bonaparte says that he is an emperor who hails from 'France', and if that is true, then we may be dealing with an individual who may be as cunning and dangerous as the mad king of Gallia. Or worse—because if Napoleon is an emperor, it would mean he has had the capability to remain as one."
"So what do you propose, marshal?" Lady Karin said impatiently. "Do we just kneel before the man, and pray to Brimir that Napoleon would turn out to be a loving conqueror?"
"We are facing a man who may have fought in hundreds of battles, and crushed a dozen wars in his world. And if he is an emperor it would mean he is not just dangerous on the battlefield—he may possess an unparalleled genius in usurping and taking power. He is an emperor, isn't he? Then he has successfully kept all that power for himself, for a long time, and dominated all of his rivals in his empire. We must start taking all of this seriously, Lady Karin. Already, I've seen Count Noyon completely under General Bonaparte's spell, and the other rebel nobles were gone. They could be fortifying their armies under Bonaparte's orders already. And I would wager it was Bonaparte who ennobled your daughter as the Grand Marquise, eh? Now we have Louise all geared up to oppose us.
"This isn't Albrecht, that goof who likes to call himself a Germanian emperor. This is an emperor. One that possesses the prowess to achieve great feats, like the one prophesied to be anointed and sent by Brimir to rule over all of Halkeginia and bring an everlasting peace—and still, one of those feats is the power to wage a terrible war; the most devastating kind of conqueror then—that is what Napoleon is. Ask yourself, just how much do you really know about your enemy, and if you find yourself with no clue… Brimir save you."
Lady Karin was now crossing her arms and staring at the table silently. She leaned back into her chair, tipping it, then leaning down again, repeating this in the manner of a rocking chair. She did not look up at the marshal.
"Do you see what I mean now, Lady Karin? Why I ask if fighting General Bonaparte in a decisive battle for all of Tristain is really necessary, or helpful for us all in the future?"
"Yes, marshal. I hear you."
"I have received information from a correspondence of mine in Germania that there are stirrings of interest and possible intervention by the empire into Tristain. This is not good, we both know this. Your eldest would have been the best choice to lead Tristain; you, Your Highness, are just and capable in every way but you lack the bloodline to rightfully inherit the Crown; and the nobles, they don't respect you as much as they fear you."
"I do not care if they respect me so long as they act it."
"You plan on Cattleya taking the Crown, correct? Your Highness seems to overlook that the Grand Marquise is still a Valliere, and we are now the only thing that stands between a peaceful new era in Tristain."
"No, not with that familiar around."
"Lady Karin, Louise considers Napoleon not just her familiar but as her partner. This is something we eventually have to accept—"
"He will be another Oliver Cromwell!"
Marshal Gramont was silent. Lady Karin's outburst was heard outside of the tent, and there was a grave silence that followed.
It was already dark outside. The crickets were singing their din in the black clearing of the woods. Everywhere else in the royal camp at La Fere, the soldiers were having a hearty dinner.
The marshal remained standing. Lady Karin clenched her teeth then glanced up at Marshal Gramont. It was not rage and fury, but despair that was twisted in Karin's face.
She spoke harshly. "King James the Second, Brimir rest his name, has fallen exactly from this sort of insidious perfidy. Cromwell orchestrated a violent coup, didn't he? They tried to invade us. The Reconquista took all of Albion, and they would've killed the prince if Tristain hadn't..."
She stopped. Her face now fully betrayed desperation for her daughter. Marshal Gramont approached beside Lady Karin.
Lady Karin slammed a hand on the table and said in an icy voice, "We must take away Napoleon Bonaparte from my daughter—destroy him, if need be. As long as that familiar is around, Louise will never rule by herself rightfully."
"Yes, Your Highness."
Lady Karin paced past the marshal.
"Cromwell is nothing compared to this emperor." She muttered, "Bonaparte is a conqueror. He will bring ruin to our country. What an ugly thing! We cannot simply besiege Tristania - that is exactly what he wants us to do."
"It will be bloody, Your Highness."
"Verily. We'll be playing into his hands. It will take nine moons or more to subjugate the capital."
Lady Karin suddenly smiled.
Like a tactician of chess who had discovered a refutation, she turned back towards Marshal Gramont and strode over to the table once more, perusing the maps and tableaus.
"We'll attack him before the battle even begins."
Marshal Gramont raised his eyebrows. Lady Karin continued to rearrange the papers on the map, bring up fresh letters, and had begun to sharpen a quill with a penknife.
"There is a way, marshal," Karin said. She glared up. "I can see the doubt on your face! Do not falter in front of me, duke."
"It's not quite doubt, Madame Valliere."
"What is it?"
"Concern." Marshal Gramont said carefully, "your daughter is very fond of her familiar. You've been very cruel to her today. To do anything severe…"
"Damn, marshal! I know that too well. Don't you see that Bonaparte has my little girl under his thumb?"
Karin sighed heavily. Strands of her hair fell over her forehead as she slumped over the table, staring at the map.
She had never felt this desperate… and therefore, for the first time, so invigorated since her youth as a member of the Manticore Knights. Something had begun to set fire in her heart and renewed her courage to fight an enemy much greater than her.
She slowly straightened up, giving one carnivorous chuckle.
"The emperor is not invincible. He'd like to think so, after winning those two trivial affairs against Walloon's son and Jean, but we'll break that spell he's cast upon everyone around him."
Marshal Gramont now took a seat, as the Grand Duchess began to dictate.
"We'll go after Napoleon in Tristania without him even realising what's happening. We'll make him bleed. We do this by assassinating his character."
…
It was almost 11 o' clock. The 7th arrondissement of Tristania was silent and dim. Napoleon stood in his study, pacing about on the Gallian-style carpet covering the furnished, eloquent atmosphere of the book-filled room. Volumes upon volumes of published works on Halkeginian history lined the shelves. Napoleon had borrowed the more valuable ones from the palace itself, and purchased the rest with his newfound wealth and had the servants fill it in the room. The study room of their manor was not as extravagant as the one he had in Tuileries, or in Saint-Cloud, but again, he had purchased the property—not to mention which belonged to the twisted Count Mott who did a ruinous upkeeping of the place—for only one hundred ecu. Napoleon didn't complain.
A secretary was sitting behind a folding wooden desk in one corner of the study. There were candles and wicker lamps everywhere, and paper sheets and a map scattered on the floor. Napoleon stepped on them occasionally, as if they weren't there. He dictated in a moderate voice to the secretary as he continued to pace, turning the length of the study room into essentially a private promenade for himself.
"Monsieur Dieudonné."
"Yes, Your Excellency. The letter to the Marquis of Touraine is finished."
"Molto bene! Now, beginning…"
"I beg your pardon, General. It is eleven o' clock already."
"Yes, Dieudonné! That is why you must write, lest we spend up until two finishing our monumental tasks!"
The poor secretary quivered as he quickly flattened another sheet on the desk and dipped his quill in the inkwell.
"A letter."
Napoleon began vigorously, flourishing with one hand, as if the past four hours had no toll on his energy even though he had hardly eaten during dinner.
"A letter…" the young man repeated, holding his quill over the paper.
"To the chief mayor of Tristania, M. Trevise di Giucono—lo, lo, so, what an Italian name!—the Royal Arsenal, together with the six prime workshops in the city located in different arrondissements… shall organize the manufacture and distribution of gunpowder, cartridges, and pre-packed ammunition for the artillery. The components required for the production of such a substance shall be obtained as a priority in trade and prospecting… the means to do so must be formulated! Have the chemists and the engineers of the Academie de Marne solve these problems. And then, there is a wealthy baron-merchant from the Assembly whose name is M. Rieler, and his commercial operations must also be employed into procuring the components of powder, primarily saltpetre and sulphur, which is unfortunately…"
Napoleon stopped.
Secretary Dieudonné said, "sire, there is someone at the door."
"Entrez vous."
"Napoleon."
"Hello, good evening Louise." Napoleon grinned upon seeing her. "Well, come have a seat."
Louise shook her head as she remained in the doorway. "I am not interrupting, am I?"
Napoleon waved off his secretary before he walked over to Louise. They stepped out of the room and into the long, red hallway.
"Of course not. I was preparing a letter concerning the state of our artillery, and the ammunition stores. But what brings you here?" Napoleon asked.
Louise sighed. Her face wore a long expression. Napoleon slowly walked alongside her.
"I'm sorry for being so sullen a while ago, during our way back home."
"That is not a problem, Louise."
"Something's been bothering me recently."
"Well spit it out. I'm listening."
"You have nothing to do about the maid… about Siesta attacking my sister Eleonore that- that day, do you?"
Napoleon stopped. Louise was now in front of him.
Under her black cloak Napoleon could see the sharp point of her stiletto—no, a knife-wand that she held at her right side. Her dark, rose-colored eyes were unsmiling.
Napoleon broke into a smile and crossed his hands behind him. He gave a dry laugh.
"Nothing about this is supposed to be funny."
"Can you hear yourself, Louise?"
"Answer my question, Napoleon."
"Don't tell me you've come to the conclusion I think you have."
"So you had no part in it?"
Napoleon's face was red. He burst out furiously.
"Ma foi! How vile do you think I am? You are calling me an assassin—assassin! Eh bien! If I had Siesta, a maid from your academy, as my personal mercenary, had I sent her to murder your siblings, while I'm at it why do I not simply dispatch of you as well?! I am not the devil they make me out to be. You must stop this line of thinking, Louise. You will go mad. Eh bien… I surmise it is something that has been said while we were in La Fere, and if so, I must warn you that you are severely susceptible to deception, Valliere."
Napoleon stopped.
Louise looked down and began to cry. Napoleon frowned, crossing his arms.
"D-Do you want to know what they said of you? W-Why I was so quiet on the way back?"
"Enlighten me."
"Mother–... Lady Karin said that you knew Siesta was up to no good, yet you did nothing about it. That you indeed had set things precisely so that it would happen—her killing my father and leaving Eleonore half-dead. I-I do not know if this is—it isn't! But when I turned to Cattleya, she- she called you a…"
"Venga qui! Venga qui!"
Napoleon pulled Louise towards him and hugged her. The knife-wand fell to the floor with a clatter, and Louise began to sob.
"Cattleya said it was your fault! That you ordered Siesta to take the books and—"
"Louise. Do you remember what I said to you when we first spoke, when I finally got you to stop trying to treat me as your servant? I said that I'd be your partner, didn't I?"
"Yes…"
"And as your partner, we're equals, aren't we?"
"Y-Yeah," Louise sniffed, rubbing her eyes with her sleeves.
Napoleon brushed his hand across Louise's forehead, picking out the pink strands of hair from her eyes, holding her cheeks. Napoleon frowned still but was earnest.
"When you summoned me, Louise, you didn't just take me away from my country. You took me away from my life. I had a family there, and none here. The only soul in all of Halkeginia that I have even the slightest real love for would then be you. I would never—to hurt your family! Eh bien! I despise your mother as much as I despise the English, but your sisters; I would never…"
"I know you wouldn't."
"I had no idea Siesta would do such a thing. I didn't even know that your mother held the maid in her estate until tragedy happened. That is the truth. Siesta must have the books then, yes? The ones from the Dragon's Raiment in Tarbes, correct? And she destroyed the library before she fled?"
Louise pulled away. "Eleonore said not all of it."
"Ahh," Napoleon huffed. He whistled to hide his dismay.
"Your mother Karin had wanted to keep Siesta a secret from us because those books are valuable. Because they are from my world. Do you understand now, Louise? The Dragon's Raiment was a French transport aircraft, a machine like those flying Albionese ships, that somehow found its way to Tristain. I haven't really explained much of it to you because I myself am completely overwhelmed by all of it. I don't understand all of it. That's exactly why we had no idea of her whereabouts, and it backfired then…"
Louise grimaced. A hundred questions were beginning to stir in her head. The Dragon's Raiment, how Napoleon was the only one—aside from the maid—who could read the weird books, and why it was the cause of so much trouble…
"None of this would've happened if we never trusted Siesta!" she shouted angrily.
"Louise, she was your friend once."
"Not anymore."
"Louise, you must calm down. You will go mad if you don't," Napoleon said, looking at her carefully. "I told you this before. Your mother would like to put a wedge between us—to drive us apart. This is what I warned you of before you decided to join me and the Alliance. That's a long time ago now, and we're now in a very, very precarious position where one can easily lose his head over anything. If your mother can turn you against me, she won't even have to make the effort to put you down at all. You'll be undoing yourself, Louise."
Louise was terrified. She began to walk rapidly, glancing here and there, then stared at Napoleon. But they've won. Louise tried to remember that. We've won, she thought. She breathed, and remembered they were still in Tristania. That she was still the Grand Marquise, and they were still in a war.
Napoleon looked away from her and watched the flickering oil lamp on the wall.
"I've done a lot of questionable things while on my way to becoming emperor… but this? I would never. Where I'm from, family is a sacred thing. You never go against it. "
Napoleon sighed longingly. He was quiet for a long minute. He gave a kind of broken laugh, then continued. "I consider myself French, but really, my family and my siblings, we were all Corsican—Italian, whichever way you put it. A professor once asked me, 'monsieur! You do so much for France, but you are not a Frenchman! Why do you risk your life for us?' Eh bien! It was as if I was hit severely with a stick, and I turned my back on that man. It always seemed like I was doing more for strange men than my own blood. Oh yes, I was always so far away from my own siblings. But I would not give them up. Before I was even emperor, I have had to fight my brother Lucien because he shared completely opposing politics to me!
"But you have it worse than me. So, Louise, I would not blame you if you are afraid about looking across to the east, having to battle against your mother, your sisters, and your people."
"No."
"What do you mean no?"
"...wouldn't betray you. I'm willing to fight mother, if it's what's necessary."
Louise muttered, gazing up at him hopefully.
"Napoleon. Would you do the same? Fight your own family and countrymen if you had to?"
He shook his head smiling at her.
"Yes. It's the story of my life; my fights." Napoleon looked away again. "Although Louise, I can't help but feel responsible. The truth is I feel as if every misfortune has been brought along with my entry into your life. If only I had never become your partner at all, perhaps your life would have been better and you would still have your father—"
"Shut up, Napoleon! Idiot! Don't say that!"
Louise knitted her eyebrows bitterly at him.
"But it's the truth, isn't it?"
"It wasn't your fault…"
"If there were only a way to leave…"
"Oh no!"
Napoleon shrugged. He looked back at her. "Don't worry, bella, I won't desert you."
Louise sighed. She still had a small frown on her face. She picked up her knife-wand.
"I see you've got yourself a new implement, Louise," Napoleon remarked, looking at her black, tempered knife-wand made out of some kind of unknown metal to him.
"So you've noticed!"
"We have a lot of things to do."
"Yes," Louise said, looking down. She slid her knife-wand under her cloak. She walked past Napoleon, then stopped.
"We're going to find Siesta, Napoleon. And kill her, if it comes to that."
…
...