…
…
"Who holds the devil, let him hold him well; He hardly will be caught a second time."
Goethe.
…
…
Once upon a time, a young man came across a lamp. He rubbed the lamp, and an ancient and powerful spirit appeared from the lamp.
"I am the remains of an ancient sorcerer," The spirit cried. "I was sealed here by an ancient evil but now you have assisted me, mortal. If you ask for it, I shall give you three wishes and then the seal shall be broken. You may have anything you desire."
The young man was awed by what the spirit had promised him.
"O great spirit," He cried. "My country is ruined and torn apart by war. End the fighting and make my homeland safe and prosperous."
"It will be done," The spirit proclaimed. "Now, what is the second wish?"
"I am a traveler whose feet are weary," The young man cried. "I wish to find a beautiful wife and start a loving family."
"It will be done," The spirit proclaimed. "Now, what is the third wish?"
"I wish to protect my family and make them happy," The young man cried. "Grant me wealth beyond my wildest dreams."
"It will be done." The spirit proclaimed. "Now return to your home. Perhaps I shall visit you soon, now that I am free."
The young man thus returned to the town where he had been born and saw that everything he had wished for had come to pass. The spirit had not attempted to manipulate his wishes in the slightest. His country was safe and secure, and he had received a warm, loving family and piles upon piles of chest filled with gold and jewels.
So for many years, he lived in peace and contentment.
But then one day, a great and terrible army arose in the land. It was nothing like anyone had ever seen before. An army of the undead rose up from the graves and assembled themselves into a great and terrible fighting force. The countries across the land united to battle this evil, but it was futile as the army trampled upon them and ravaged the land. Cities and towns fell alike with nary a whimper of resistance as they were destroyed by the undead army.
The young man was forced to flee with his wife and family, but he did not manage to get very far. He attempted to escape with the greatest treasure of jewels that he possessed, which only served to burden their horse.
Consequently, his family was overtaken by the undead army and he was made a prisoner. His wife and children were taken away from him as they were marched through the enemy camp. However, the enemy soldiers seemed to take a great interest in the man and so he arrived at a tent far more spacious than any other.
The man was pushed in, and inside the tent sat the leader of the undead armies. Thousands of eyes were painted onto the black cloak he wore and he carried a sword whose very presence radiated evil. But as the young man watched in horror, the leader unbuckled his helmet and revealed his face. It was that of the spirit who had granted the young man's wishes so long ago.
"Why?" The young man cried. "I helped you and set you free. So why did you return? Why did you destroy everything I valued?"
"Why does it matter why I do my deeds?" The spirit asked. "You were the one who set me free. You should have asked yourself why I had been sealed, and what might happen if I were to be unsealed.
You did not. You were blinded by the wishes which I offered and thus did not hesitate to use them and let me go. This destruction, this death, it is your responsibility."
"Besides," the spirit said, "I did make a promise to visit you someday."
And so-
A violent bout of hacking and coughing interrupted the story young Louise was so ensconced with.
"Big sis?"
As a young Louise watched as her feet dangled inches over the couch they sat on, her big sister Cattleya doubled over as she heaved and coughed. She continued to do this for a long minute as Louise wondered what she should do.
"Big sis? Should I go get mommy? Are you all right?"
"I'm…fine…"
Still coughing as she said those words, Cattleya finally gave one large cough before she finally stopped. A small stream of blood dripped from her lips as she looked at Louise, whose eyes widened at the sight.
"Big sis! You're bleeding! Are you all right?"
"I'm better now," Cattleya said as she smiled. "Don't worry about me, Louise."
Despite her statements and actions, Louise still worriedly looked at her sister's lips. Cattleya turned her head away and then looked at the nearby clock.
"Oh, goodness. It's time for you to go to bed, Louise. Henrietta will be coming tomorrow. You want to look your best and not be tired in front of your cousin, right?"
"But, big sis, you didn't finish the story!" Louise cried.
"I can continue tomorrow," Cattleya responded. "But it's time for you to go to bed. Please, Louise?"
"All right."
Even though Louise couldn't keep her annoyance out of her voice, Cattleya picked her up and carried her to her room.
"Hey, big sis, big sis!" Louise abruptly cried.
"What is it, Louise?"
"When I'm a big girl and become an awesome mage, I know what element I'm going to be!"
"I see," Cattleya said. "Well, Louise, what element are you going to be?"
"I'll be a water mage!" Louise yelled. "Water mages are healers, right? And I know big sis is sick all the time. So I'll be an awesome water mage and help big sis get better!"
"That's very nice, but lots of water mages look after me these days. You shouldn't worry so much, Louise. I'll definitely get better. Besides, there's something you have forgotten."
Louise blinked in confusion. As the two walked down the hallway, she pondered the question as she tried to remember. At last, when the two of them entered her room, she gave a short wail.
"I don't remember, big sis! What have I forgotten?"
"You know the story I just read to you?"
"Yes?"
As Cattleya laid Louise on her bed, she sat down beside her.
"I want you to remember something important, Louise. Nothing in this world is free. I know you want to be an awesome mage. I have no doubt you will become one. But you'll probably have to work very hard and lose many things if you want to do that. After all, if you go to the Academy, you won't see me as often, right?"
"That's true," Louise said. "But I want to be a great mage, but I also want to be with big sis! Forever and ever and ever!"
"You can't have both, Louise." Cattleya said. "That's what I mean. You'll have to lose some things in order to gain other things. And if you try to get something for free…"
"An undead army will show up and destroy me?"
Cattleya giggled at Louise's question.
"True. Perhaps that's something you could have learned from it."
She knelt down and patted Louise on the head before kissing her on the cheek.
"Good night, Louise. I hope you have pleasant dreams."
The young girl nodded and laid down as Cattleya walked out of the room. But as the door closed, and she heard the footsteps of her elder sister march away, she threw aside the covers to her bed. Louise clambered out of her soft, luxurious bed and stretched a small hand underneath her covers.
"There it is!" She finally pulled out a thick, leather-bound book which was almost as large as she was. But as she clenched the book with both hands, she searched for the candle which she knew was nearby. Her hands finally stumbled upon it and through some miracle with Brimir she carried the candle and the book to a nearby table.
"Don't worry, big sis," she whispered to herself as she lit the candle and opened the book. "I'll be an incredible mage, better than anyone, even that meanie Kirche! And I'll save you and make Henrietta happy and bring pride to the Vallieres. I know I can do it."
So as the late night hours passed, she began to leaf through the book of complicated spells and repeated the incantations in her head. Above all, it was the summoning incantation which captivated the mind of the young Louise.
…
A little past noon, their skyship reached the capital city of Tristain.
It was a spectacular surprise when the Grand Marquise and the commander-in-chief of the Army of Tristania disembarked, at the Grand Plaza in the High Quarters of the city, with a large public crowd watching them. A handful of small riots and scenes of civil disobedience had been going on for the past few days since it had been revealed to the public that their First Dignitary, the Grand Marquise who was supposed to be the next Queen of Tristain, was a Valliere exile; and it had been days since it was also made known that the Second Dignitary, the general of the army, was a commoner.
Very soon, the Third Dignitary also appeared: Cardinal Mazarin walked up to the Grand Marquise, gave a short bow of respect, then blessed her.
When the three Dignitaries went up and made their presence known in front of the crowds, there was a sudden washing silence. Even the riots and turmoil in the lower arrondissements died down, as if they were nothing but candles blown out by a gust of wind. The Grand Marquise stood in front of the large crowd quietly. She was wearing a great blue cloak which hid her lithe body. Behind her stood the Cardinal, in his white and gold robes and General Napoleon Bonaparte, dressed in the resplendent green uniform of the cavalry.
The Grand Marquise did not need to utter a word. She simply ran her watchful eyes over the crowd, and this went on for only a few short minutes. That was all it took to quell any further ideas of revolt against their new government. It almost seemed as if all the public needed was to be assured by a show of force consisting of three people representing the three estates of their kingdom.
A short address was made by the senior military officers standing in line, and they led the salute, to which the public crowd eased up to and finally, a round of applause and cheers went up in the air.
They effectively quelled all the riots for now.
Well, that wasn't so difficult, Napoleon thought. An hour had passed and he was sitting on the terrace of the Tristanian Palace again, enjoying a cup of coffee.
He waited for Louise to finish with her council inside the palace and for the Cardinal to wrap up the current affairs that had gone while they were away. Later, he himself would conduct a short review in the military camps around Tristania. Find out how the raising and training of their new battalions and regiments were proceeding along.
Things were also growing more and more interesting every day now. They had less than three weeks left before the ceasefire signed at La Fere ended, and it was apparent that this whole civil war was drawing a lot of curious spectators. In fact, Louise was inside the palace hall dealing with assorted envoys and observers hailing from all over outside Tristain. There were people who were Germanians, Romalians, a few Gallians who were regarded with suspicion, and diplomats from small principalities and communes from somewhere far. The Germanian observers by far were the most controversial, given the foreboding actions done by their Empire along the Beuand river, carrying out army movements east of Tristain. The Tristanian Civil War was being talked about from as far as the southwestern coasts of Gallia, to Romalia, and to the obscure free cities and principalities in the Black Forest, and through the Germanian Empire.
Napoleon basked leisurely while all of this took place. It was rolling as smooth as a slow river. He had another important visitor: Julio Chesare, the striking messenger-boy of the Pope of Romalia.
Since Julio Chesare was present, being an envoy of the Pope and here in Tristania to observe how the whole civil war affair was happening, Napoleon invited him for some coffee after lunch.
Napoleon didn't trust the blonde young man. It was obvious by now that Julio Chesare was an agent or lieutenant of the Romalian Pope, and that entailed very serious things. And Julio was a very conspicuous individual; he had heterochromic eyes, with his left iris being ruby-red and the right one azure blue. You'd have to be cross-eyed not to notice such a person in the middle of the Assembly court.
Napoleon, as a rule, did not trust the Church and priests. If Madame Mère Letizia, his mother could read his thoughts of course she'd have slapped him around already. He was taught better than any of his siblings and raised a good Catholic. Napoleon knew that, but he stubbornly held onto his conviction. After all, what did I get from putting my faith in priests? His uncle, Cardinal Joseph Fesch had given him much trouble as he governed his Empire. And Pope Pius VII? With his two dirty feet constantly dipped in French politics and religious affairs? Good god! And so Napoleon shook his head.
But I digress, Napoleon sighed. He smiled again. Across from him at a cast-iron coffee table, as they sat in the sunny terrace of the palace, Julio Chesare was sitting.
They conversed for a good quarter of an hour, talking coolly about trivial matters. It would be unspeakably blunt to go straight into serious matters right away, and besides, Napoleon wanted to test the young man.
When Louise Françoise de la Valliere stepped out onto the terrace, she discovered the two, in the middle of a conversation whose subject was her!
"Also, it may not be pure gossip at all to say that the Grand Marquise seems to be making a rather affectionate correspondence with the Prince of Albion…" the emperor kept talking.
"Shut it, Napoleon!"
Louise snapped and marched over. Napoleon grinned at her. Julio Chesare also turned his head and smiled softly at her.
It was the first time in a while that Julio had seen what had become of the Valliere "Zero" girl, and it surprised him a little. Louise Francoise was wearing the blue colors of nobility. Her pink hair was fluffed up countess-style. She looked taller.
"Your Highness," Julio breathed. "You are just as pretty, even prettier than the first time I laid my eyes on you."
Louise fumed. "Quiet, you. I know who you are, you're the Pope's assistant. I don't recall seeing you anywhere in Albion… What makes you think you can be so bold in front of a Grand Marquise?"
"My apologies then, Your Highness. Mea culpa."
Napoleon watched the exchange between the two with a wide grin. Louise huffed and glared at him.
"Excuse me, Napoleon," Louise muttered, her tone laced with sarcasm. "I have a job to do. Enjoy your little coffee break!"
The Grand Marquise walked off.
Napoleon laughed and sighed. He said, "well, there you go. She's grown a lot, hasn't she?"
Julio nodded. "She has. I will say that Pope Vittorio has always been concerned for Her Highness Louise Francoise de la Valliere's health ever since the outset of this whole debacle - since Albion actually. And after Queen Henrietta, Brimir rest her in peace… Let me just express that the Pope, and I as a priest myself, am committed to ensuring the best for the next sovereign of Tristain and her people."
"Well I'm pleased to hear that, Julio. Truly, I am."
"If there's any way I or the Pope can help, do not hesitate to call upon our services. That's our duty as the devotees of the Church of Brimir."
"Now that you've mentioned it," Napoleon cleared his throat and finished his coffee. "There is something you can help us with. Don't worry about this whole civil war and all, we have it under control."
Julio Chesare raised an eyebrow. His eyes were glittering.
"What is it?"
"Oh, it's not a big issue. I promise it wouldn't be too troublesome for you, Julio. It's about King Joseph. I won't disclose it all immediately out of discretion, but King Joseph wants us to give him something he wants. He seems extremely interested in this. Naturally, I restrained myself, but the king promised us something very valuable in return. Something that also interests me greatly."
"I-Interesting? In what context?"
Julio kept a fixed look. Though, there was a tiny twitch from the corner of his lips.
Napoleon leaned forward slowly. His narrow, poignant eyes peered at Julio.
"You see, I've been approached by a Gallian woman once, who seems very interested in a certain elf girl we have in our jurisdiction. For one reason and another, the Gallian court seems to be very insistent that we turn the elf over. They said the elf is an important individual that is missing from Gallia for a long time now. But then they also say that there is a kind of elven embassy in Lutece. Reasons, reasons… It must be the king behind it, right? It's unique, though, in that Gallia seems to be the only kingdom remotely tolerant of elves that there's a very real, if scarce presence of them in the country. Supposedly, the elves would be very grateful if this elf we have is returned…"
Julio's cup of coffee slipped from his hands and crashed on the table with a clang. Hot liquid spilled over the tablecloth rapidly, but none seemed to drip over the edge and stain the Romalian's clothes.
Julio immediately recovered and a surprised, almost playfully child-like look appeared on his face. "Oh my!" he laughed, embarrassed. "I'm sorry, it was my fault. I didn't mean to drop my chalice… I'm really, really bad at holding my drink, eh!"
"Oh, that's fine. Coffee can make anyone quite giddy."
Napoleon smiled. Julio noticed the general's grey, cat-like eyes almost seemed to shine for a second and turn light stone-blue, like steel.
Great, Julio inwardly cursed, gritting his teeth.
Bad enough that he had to be privy to a brewing romantic-political affair between the next monarchs of Albion and Tristain, something that even he, the Pope's right-hand servant and familiar, knows would have massive implications in the grand scheme of things. But now, with an elf - a specific elf girl - being mentioned finally, things had become profoundly serious.
And now, it seems that Napoleon Bonaparte had noticed him making a slip. Julio felt uneasy in front of the general. Yes, the man may be a commoner, but something about Napoleon felt off… Somehow, Julio knew that Napoleon Bonaparte was reporting to Louise, and that made him very formidable. Napoleon was watching him carefully, that Julio knew better than to act suspiciously any more than he already was. He was a Romalian inside of the Tristanian capital, the last thing he needed was getting outed as a spy - which he practically was.
But it was bad. Worse than he anticipated. He needed to report as fast as possible back to Pope Vittorio. He needed to warn the Pope about the Mad King, and about the Elf girl.
…
Once Julio Chesare left, explaining that he needed to return to Romalia and bring back to the Pope the developments at the Tristanian Assembly, Napoleon went. He and Louise then met with the Third Dignitary, Cardinal Mazarin that evening.
The Cardinal looked exhausted from having to deal with the Assembly again.
"Lake Lagdorian's waters have risen severely while you were both away, Your Highness," Cardinal Mazarin said in a grave tone.
"It's risen up to the convent, on the hills of Saint-Sulpice. That is almost fifteen feet, in three days. If the lake continues to swell at this rate, Your Highness, the waterline will end at the foot of the mountains around the lake, and the entire valley will be inundated. Several towns and villages will be drowned. They can be evacuated safely, of course, but… this is a very serious issue. At this point I am already near certain that the Water Spirit is very ill. Something has affronted it, and we must find a way to appease it."
Napoleon and Louise sat back. The high table was empty, only the Cardinal was with them.
"So it's true," Louise mumbled. She glanced up. "But why? What does the Water Spirit want?"
The Cardinal frowned.
"Your Highness, I am no water mage, and I do not have the best knowledge of the pacts concerning the Water Spirit and its disposition towards people, but my colleagues have some conclusions. It is either that the Water Spirit demands something of the people. There have always been inhabitants which use the waters of the lake for sustenance and their livelihood. Lake Lagdorian is fed by the streams and rivers flowing from the mountains. When villagers dig new ditches and channels to direct these waters for their own use, it affects the lake, and the spirit in it. Normally, it does not create a problem. But there is always a price."
"That doesn't seem to be the main problem?"
"No, Your Highness. The other conclusion would be that the Water Spirit, and the Lake Lagdorian had been committed a grave offense against. Our priests have assessed all the surrounding communes however. There doesn't seem to be any activity from the townsfolk that could have insulted the spirit and caused this. The villagers never dispose of entrails into the rivers feeding into the lake. The towns do not sow pollution to it. And the Water Temples have always made their sacrifices and tributes on time."
"But there has to be something," Louise said, scratching her cheek. "Something must've happened."
Louise racked her mind, but it was difficult. She didn't know a lot about the Water Spirit.
Her classmate, Montmorency Margarita, possibly knew the answer, and could help as her family the Montmorencys had been the most refined water mages in Tristain for a long time. They consistently held sacred pacts with the Water Spirit of Lake Lagdorian. They would know more about the Water Spirit and its attitudes towards people, and would know what to make of it when a lake suddenly loses control and begins to drown everything around it.
But Montmorency wasn't here. Guiche de Gramont's girlfriend was gone—Montmorency had joined her father, and their family was sided with the Loyalists. She was not around in Tristania to help. The Marquis of Touraine was a powerful water mage, but he had no pacts with the spirit of Lake Lagdorian; the Marquis made his pact with a spirit from a Gallian mountain. They had nobody who could help with this one. Mages had been leaving Tristania ever since Louise had issued her ultimatum through the Assembly, and all nobles who weren't loyal, which was a great lot, were gone…
"There are artifacts belonging to the spirit of the Lagdorian Lake. If one were to be stolen or go missing for any reason, the Water Spirit may force its bodies to swell, and go forth to find wherever its artifact is taken."
"What?"
This time, it was Napoleon who spoke in surprise.
"The Water Spirit can only come onto land through water," Cardinal Mazarin explained patiently. "And if that's where its missing artifact is, it shall flood the lake and wash over the land until it locates its artifact. Anywhere where there is a body of water, the spirit can flow through it and manifest itself there. Think of the Lake Lagdorian as an ooze, like one of those slime creatures found in the depths of the Germanian forests. It can grow its body, slip into the farthest crevices, and probe everything it touches. And water… The spirit will go to great lengths until it finds out where its artifact is."
"So what kind of artifact is this?" Napoleon asked.
"There is one in particular," Cardinal Mazarin said. "It's the ring of Andvari."
Louise was perplexed. "The ring of Andvari? What sort of ring is that?"
"The Water Spirit possesses a number of artifacts, but Lake Lagdorian has traditionally held this one. If it's the one missing, then it may be the cause of the lake's growing unrest. I do not know what kind of value or use this ring of Andvari has. I do not know anyone who has dared steal an artifact from the Water Spirit before, but that in itself must be the reason for taking it. Whatever the reason, you must return the ring or any other artifact that the Water Spirit demands. Otherwise, Lake Lagdorian will continue to rise, and we will have a terrible disaster on our hands."
…
They would have to head south.
The Cardinal may have informed both of them of what was happening with the Lagdorian Lake, the Water Spirit, but still. Napoleon and Louise had no idea what to expect.
And then, there were the Gallian troop movements along the southern border of Tristain which concerned both of them even more. They knew what they needed to do, but how they would find the missing artifact of the lake was a question that remained unanswered.
Louise slept that night in the palace of Tristania. She sighed, alone to herself. No rest for the wicked, as Napoleon would say.
It was a strange sort of 'French' expression. What did the emperor mean? She wasn't wicked. Louise admitted that she could be very petulant and unreasonable at times, but she was a good person, right?
She always felt foolish asking herself questions. If only Cattleya were here…
Somehow, by some miracle of Brimir, when Louise woke up she felt rested enough and prepared to undertake another journey. Her energy felt stronger than ever, and she was glad. She could almost keep up with Napoleon's extreme work ethics.
They left Tristania after having an early breakfast. The sooner they could finish this mission, the sooner they could return. They took eight horses - four for each of them. Traveling by coach was not an option. They needed to stay incognito. Even Napoleon opted not to bring his personal chasseur escorts. There were checkpoints and garrisons in towns and communes they would pass through, and there they could purchase supplies and anything else they may need for the journey.
The not so good thing about the journey was traveling south to the Lagdorian Lake meant passing through Walloon territory. They did so without any issue. Half of the estate was deserted, since they had defeated the Walloons at Vaupoisson after all and forced them to retreat east. Except the villages, where peasants continued on with their mundane daily routines.
It was a provoking perspective, and Louise wondered. She was worried about winning a war with her mother. Meanwhile, these farmers were worried about planting their next harvest of crops so that they could have something to sell and feed their families.
It was springtime. The month of Feoh was sunny and good. When the sun went down, the air became cool and the sky was always such a beautiful, warm orange color. She stared at the sky as she rode. Louise even envied the village girls, who she saw that evening as they walked home from the last milking of their animals in a barn, carrying their tin pails and jugs full of cream. They didn't have to go to school, yet they looked happy. The group of friends were laughing and enjoying the peaceful, cool evening.
The first night, Louise and Napoleon pitched camp before the edge of a pine forest. The deciduous trees were beginning to grow small, hard and green leaves now. If she looked across the tilled oat fields, she could see what was a double row of thick birches that spread for miles and miles across the fields, until it was too dim to tell where they ended. Across the row of birch trees would already be Gramont territory. There was not a soldier or mercenary in sight. It was as if there was no war.
Maybe that was it, Louise thought. She didn't have a lot of friends, now that she thought of it. Was that why she was sometimes feeling melancholic? She always wanted friends, but her life at the Academy was tumultuous. She was a Zero. Louise didn't consider her officers and gunners in the 1st Artillery Regiment as 'friends'. Guiche de Gramont had been a great deal more respectful of her now, and Beatrice never bothered her again since she confronted her, but what then? What about the rest of her classmates?
The first night passed. Louise eventually fell asleep after gazing at the sky for a very long time. Today, Napoleon had told her a story about the Romans, people who had successfully built one of the greatest empires of his world. Louise dreamt of that. As she lay on a rug on the damp ground, beside the fire the Emperor was stoking, Louise had taken out her golden franc. She watched it, the beautiful golden coin, glinting, in her hands.
The second night, their journey ended at dusk, stopping again in the middle of a sparse wood. The sun had set, they had time to make a fire and warm the food they had packed.
As they encamped in the forest clearing, they again sat around their little fire, again resting under the stars.
Napoleon again told Louise another one of his stories.
He told her once more of the Romans. And as per his grotesque sense of fascination, he spoke of the great deaths of Antiquity, those who took poison, who died laughing, who committed suicide by holding their breath, who were stabbed. Napoleon often looked for forebears in Plutarch; he shuddered at the death of Sulla, the general without fortune, rank or land, who, with the army's support, lived to govern Rome and command the world.
Like Napoleon, Sulla had to control an immense empire; like Napoleon, he interfered with his citizens' private lives, legislated heavily, struck coins bearing his own likeness. Sulla's wife Caecilia belonged to the aristocracy, like the Empress Marie-Louise. The parallels impressed the Emperor, but Sulla's end, no, not at any price.
It brought him back to a certain memory in Moscow.
"Can you see me rotting like him? Can you see me surrounded by actresses and flute players, drinking and gorging myself as swarms of maggots ooze out of my corrupted flesh until it bursts? Puoah!"
The Emperor grunted in dismay, as they sat around a coffee table on a warm morning in Moscow. In front of him was his step-son, the Viceroy of Italy, Prince Eugene. Next to the Emperor sat His Majesty's best friend, the Grand Marshal Geraud Duroc.
"Yes, sire. I do agree that Sulla had run his luck dry," Prince Eugene nodded.
"How would you like to die? The lucky Montbrun had got himself carried away by a cannonball at Moscowa, didn't he? Remember what the man said? 'Excellent shot!'"
Geraud Duroc answered His Majesty with his trademark deadpan expression. "I'd like to be blasted by a roundshot as well," he muttered darkly.
Prince Eugene boasted, "I'd rather get cut down leading a charge, su cavallo!"
"I think it should be fitting for me to fall, commanding my own battery," the Emperor sighed with a grin.
Everyone did their best to enjoy themselves. They had after all just entered Moscow. They triumphed at the end of the great but deadly tribulation that was Borodino. The least they deserved was to sit down and relax if only for one hour, and enjoy the shiny Russian city with a cup of coffee. Partisans and Cossacks might already be trying to start burning it and looting it, but the French tirelessly fended them off and hoped for the best, and the Grand Armee was considering wintering in Moscow. The two men tried to share His Majesty's pleasure.
Emperor Napoleon gave a playfully excited smile. His eyes were glittering. He sipped his coffee and changed the subject smoothly.
"We could liberate India from the English."
"Are you really considering it sire?" Duroc asked anxiously. "How long will the letters from Paris take?"
"How many months to get there?" Prince Eugene wondered.
"I've consulted the maps!" The Emperor beamed. He brought up both of his hands theatrically. "From Astrakhan we cross the Caspian sea and reach Astrabad in ten days! From there, four weeks of march - likely six, to the Indus!…"
It was all a dream. The lively hopes of a past youth. A dreamy story that remained a dreamy story.
And so Napoleon contented himself on telling Louise of his stories, and aweing her to no end.
"From Astrakhan," Napoleon exclaimed, once again holding one of his hands up and stretching his arm as far as he could to his right, "And across the Caspian to Astrabad."
The Emperor did the same with his left arm and hand, and stretched it as far as he could, so that both his arms were spread wide like an eagle, as if embracing the world.
Louise watched him with starstruck eyes. Her mouth hung open slightly. She could not fathom the size of this 'Caspian sea', which was supposed to be almost four-fifths as big as Gallia, or about a hundred times bigger than the Lagdorian lake. Napoleon explained to her that in ancient times, when the Romans hiked over the faraway Caucasus Mountains and approached the great plains of Central Asia, they discovered the lake, which they aptly named after the Kaspi tribe that lived there.
Napoleon had changed the subject once again.
"However," Napoleon said, "since they found out that the waters of the lake were in fact salty, and not freshwater, nobody ever calls the Caspian a 'lake'. Politically, it has always been treated as a sea due to its enormous size, meaning any ship and sailor on it abides by international laws of the sea, but geographically, it is a lake in every definition. It does not feed into any oceanic body."
Louise finally gave a little laugh.
"You seem to be very well versed with your books, Napoleon…" she teased.
The Emperor grumbled. "Well of course! I do a lot of reading, Louise. It would be outrageous if I wasn't." He smiled and sighed.
"I could have reached India," Napoleon said softly. "Like Alexander… I could have been a Sultan. Can you imagine that, Louise?"
"You know, they also call the kings of Elves 'Sultans'."
"Do they?"
Louise shrugged. "I know that much, from a few of the library books I've flipped through sometimes in our Academy."
Napoleon set himself back down on his thick, scratchy woolen rug. He used his grey greatcoat rolled up as a pillow. It was warm enough that he lay with his green chasseur colonel jacket unbuttoned and splayed open. His chin was squeezed to the crook of his neck as he closed his eyelids, smiling.
Louise on the other hand was also smiling, but she was gazing up at the starry night sky. This time she put away the gold franc in her hand and hid it in her pocket.
Napoleon said, not opening his eyes, "Tomorrow, we will reach the lake. The Water Spirit will appear once the sun is down, at nightfall, and then we can speak to it and find out how to appease it."
"Hey."
"Hm? What is it, Louise?"
"You said that you don't have any more friends, Napoleon. So… why don't you make new friends, in this world, I mean?"
Louise watched the emperor for his answer.
Napoleon retained that small smile on his lips as his eyes remained closed, like he was sleeping.
"Because I'm too old, Louise."
"What?! That's not an objective reason!" Louise protested.
Napoleon chuckled. He peered at her with one open eye.
"It is," he insisted. "You know, let us be frank: I will not live to see you, Louise de la Valliere, bring your whole world under one banner. Though, I am very much confident that you can do that. Fortune still smiles upon me, and I can still teach you how to master Her. But friends? Bah, figure!"
Napoleon looked at her. "If I were still a young man, Louise - Ah, if we had met then, we would execute an adventure worthy of being chronicled by Plutarch, no?"
Louise frowned. "Do you… You said that if—if you could go back to your world… would you really?"
Napoleon hummed pensively.
"Well, that's not a very important question."
"Why?"
"Because we're here. I am here, and that is what matters. Now, if say, a portal appeared before me right at this moment, then- "
"Don't go back!" Louise said.
Her tone was surprisingly pleading, which made Napoleon look at her. He smiled assuredly.
"I won't. But, as I said before, I do not have the same energies as I once had. C'est la vie—time is something that gets at us sooner or later. And I have not the time to make any more friends. Besides, I've lived enough, don't you think? My friends… they will be waiting for me up there," Napoleon pointed at the night sky. "In the stars."
"Well don't talk like that," Louise mumbled. "You're not gonna die yet, right? People live to grow old here, even peasants, you know. Stop being so poetic…"
"Let me teach you something then; what should guide you."
"What is it?"
"Here," Napoleon beckoned her. He pointed up at the sky and the two moons of Halkeginia. One of the smaller moons was red, the other was green. Louise looked. "Do you see that star?" the emperor asked.
"Where?"
"There, in between the two moons."
"I don't see anything."
"Are you sure? It's right there in between."
"Napoleon, I tell you, there's not a single star in between those moons!"
"Well, as long as I'm the only one who can see that star, I shall do as I please. There lies Fortune. There lies the force which drives me. I've seen that star since I was in Cairo—no, since I was in Italy. And it's been with me ever since."
Louise stared at the emperor. He smirked back at her. "Now," he said, "You'll have to find a star of your own."
…
They resumed riding the next day, and by the time they neared the border, it was late afternoon.
Napoleon taught Louise how to cycle between the string of horses they had with them. The emperor was no expert cavalryman, but he explained that during his campaigns, more than one mount would be used by troopers in order not to exhaust the animals. This was necessary, especially if the journey was long or arduous.
Napoleon had more than an extensive experience of riding on horseback. He had crossed the Alps, like Hannibal Barca, rode across the rocky and thick mountain passes of the Po valley and Milan, and traveled the deserts of Egypt and Syria. The latter was something that aroused great curiosity from Louise. Napoleon promised to tell her more about it, but now, they needed to focus on the task at hand.
They had no idea of the shocking scene that would greet them at the lake.
One minute, they were riding across a sparse hill and upon the next step, they found their horses trudging through shallow water. The more they glanced around, the more they realized that something was terribly wrong.
"Why, it's flooded here!" Louise shouted when she dismounted and her feet sank up to her ankles.
The water was warm. There was grass and patches of sedges below her. There were bushes of wildflowers around, which only grew on hard, dry soil. Trees around her were dead still, as there was not a breeze blowing.
"We're still in Walloon territory."
Napoleon slipped off his horse. His black cavalry boots hit the ground with a splash. He was nonchalantly perusing a map between his hands, and he had on his reading glasses.
He took off his spectacles and pocketed them away. "There's not supposed to be water here," Napoleon muttered. "This area was once a very foul marsh, but the windmills should be keeping this drained all year round, in springtime even more so. The Walloons seem to have maintained their windmills better than any other I've seen. So what could be the problem?"
Louise looked around. Napoleon was right - they had passed three windmills, lined up along a shallow channel, which sank in a sharp V-shape. Those began up in the rocky Silver Mountains and fed into the Lagdorian Lake. They never flooded even in autumn thanks to the mill-pumped drainage system. However, this entire forest was steeped with water.
"The water filled up this area fast," Louise said. "A flash flood… no, it's definitely water from the lake. The Cardinal said that the Lagdorian Lake's water level is rising. This must be it…"
"Good observation, Louise. And by the looks of it, it's not stopping."
They tied their horses to a thin birch trunk before walking down the flooded road together. Napoleon and Louise trudged their way for a few meters, before stepping off the road and onto a hill. Louise realized that they had passed a wheat field, only she hadn't noticed as it was submerged in water, so it looked like a massive, square-shaped pond.
If they stepped off the gravel road, the ground sank, and the water was deep, up to their waists. Louise didn't try to find out, but she knew. There was something creepy about the water, in that it was extremely clear. It gave the appearance that the whole ground was frozen over with black ice, like a lake in the middle of a fine winter. Louise used to skate across the pond near her family manor, on deerbone skates, in the winter when she was younger. The ice looked exactly like the water she was in now. She counted the brown leaves and dead beetles floating around her.
Napoleon's voice brought her out of her brief reverie.
"Let's go back," he decided. "There's no point going any further. This lane descends to the valley, and the lake, and it's flooded deep. Cardinal Mazarin said that the water level the other day was reaching up to the Saint-Sulpice hills. It's one mile away. The water level has risen almost twenty feet in the last forty-eight hours."
Louise looked horrified. "There's villages down there!" she said. "What if people drowned? We have to find out if- "
"If anyone stayed there, they would've definitely drowned. There won't be anything we can do for now."
Napoleon held her shoulder. He said, "The locals would've evacuated themselves. Our garrisons too would've moved out as soon as they realized that the water was rising. A long time ago, this Lagdorian Lake was bigger, wasn't it, Louise? You said the waters reached up to the foot of the Silver Mountains, near the mines, and that this was a swamp. I think that's as far as the lake can rise."
"This is very bad. Very, very bad."
"Where can we find the Water Spirit?"
Louise looked away. She stared into the forest. The light of the evening bounced off the still water of the forest floor, making it look like a very serene glade. The forest looked incredibly beautiful, but also ominous. She half-expected to see something more than floating dead beetles and snakes wriggling in the water. The flooding was doing very bad things to everything it washed over.
"I don't know, Napoleon. I don't know! We're supposed to reach the lake and summon the presence of the Water Spirit, but- but everything's flooded! We won't reach the lake! Maybe with a raft…"
"Steady yourself," Napoleon said firmly. "Maybe we don't have to reach the lake."
"How so?"
"You said the Water Spirit can go anywhere where there's water."
"Yes…"
"It will come to us. Do you remember what we'll have to do to make it sense our presence?"
Louise nodded. "Yes." She took a deep breath. "We'll have to wait until nightfall. When the sun is down, the Spirit, it should be ready to come out."
They got back onto their horses and retraced their steps up the road. Napoleon picked out an open area on a hill, which also served as a vantage point. Sure enough, the entire forest was steeped in shallow water - it sparkled like mangroves on a beach as the setting sun's rays beat down on the foliage and onto the water's surface. He produced a telescope from a saddlebag and used it as per habit to methodically survey the field below him. Lake Lagdorian, beyond the treeline on the horizon, looked like it had swelled twice in size.
It was almost another hour and a half before the sun finally set. The orange light was being melted away by the indigoes and blues which were rapidly spreading out from the east.
Both of them now had made their way down from their hill and walked across the wheatfield. It almost looked like a square-shaped shallow lake. In the sky, the two green and red moons of Halkeginia shone and cast two light orbs in the water they walked on.
Each step stirred up the soil of the wheatfield into cloudy mud. Napoleon kept one hand resting sternly onto the pommel of his sword, his other arm out to assist his balance. He followed Louise, who was a few steps ahead of him. The two of them were like soldiers of the avant-garde, crossing a stranger's land. Louise thought, and for one was glad she had worn a good pair of cavalry boots. It would be terrible if she wore shoes. She didn't need her feet getting soaked.
"Let's do this before it gets too dark," Napoleon said quietly. "We do not want to expose ourselves to any more danger than necessary."
Louise stopped. She turned around. "Is this a good enough area?" she asked.
Napoleon gazed around. They were a little off-center of the flooded wheatfield. The extremely still surface of the water was a massive square mirror under the cloudless sky.
The emperor sighed. Louise glanced at him expectantly.
He said, "Let's hope this will work."
They nodded at each other. Louise brought out her stiletto-wand.
"You know what to do?"
"Yes," Louise said. "A drop of blood. It's what the Cardinal and the water priest instructed. That's what we need. We let it drop into the water, and I'll call out for the Water Spirit to heed our plea. Let's hope it'll work," she repeated.
Louise went first. With her right hand, she slowly pointed her razor-sharp stiletto towards her left hand. Using the tip of the blade, she nicked the edge of her palm. She winced. She hated getting cut, and felt sick at seeing blood. Napoleon went next and did the same shortly.
They held out both of their bleeding hands. It took a minute until they both produced a drop of blood.
The red, almost black beads dripped into the water between them silently.
Then they waited for a minute. Two minutes. Then ten. For a long while, they didn't move.
The two moons shone very brightly. There were no stars in the sky. Louise took a deep breath.
"O, Water Spirit, patron of the Lagdorian Lake! We come to you, appealing to your great and pure heart; Allow us your audience, if only for a short time!"
No answer.
"I am Louise Françoise le Blanc de la Vallière! Third daughter of the Duke of Vallière! Servant of Her Majesty the late Queen, Henrietta! Grand Marquise, Protector of Tristain! Wielder of the Void!"
Louise took one shallow breath. She clenched her hands.
"O, good Water Spirit! If you hear my voice, O Spirit, answer our presence and appear before my Familiar and I!"
The field began to vibrate. All over, ripples began to appear on the surface of the water.
Napoleon glanced at Louise with wide eyes. She felt a chill run down her back, and she stared around them. What is happening? Is this it?
The water around them was beginning to recede. It was flowing away from them - it was flowing forward, towards the direction of the lake.
Their boots were left standing in the soft mud as they stood around and watched the water all around them drain away slowly. They began to follow the water and walk with it.
Napoleon and Louise kept walking until their feet felt heavy, caked with soil, and they kept on moving forward. They climbed out of the field and saw that the lake was before them.
The Lagdorian Lake had merely retreated to the last bank it had crossed. The water was crystal blue under the shine of the moonlight. Far away, there were silhouettes on the water. Louise squinted.
There was a spire. The stave and scale of the Church of Brimir indicated it was all that was standing above the water, which had engulfed an entire convent and the surrounding cemetery. Several shapes, like dark icebergs, floated. They were wooden houses that had broken loose and remained buoyant. There was driftwood and debris everywhere.
The water remained oscillating as they stood a few feet from what was the new 'shore' of the swollen lake. The water did not stop moving, even though there was no wind or forces influencing it and visibly being the reason for its turbulence.
Napoleon watched all of this with sharp, observant eyes. He could not help but feel his palms grow cold. Louise was several steps in front of him, and she was gazing at the water. As the water continued to slosh and flow over itself, it became apparent that it was increasing in volume. A mound of water had formed in front of them on the shore. The mound of water grew until it was a hill, and Napoleon realized it had to be the spirit.
The Water Spirit appeared.
The body of water pulsed, sloshed back and forth and undulated like some kind of viscous liquid other than freshwater. It turned translucent like clouded glass, before slowly morphing into a humanoid shape.
It seemed to lean and stare at Louise hard and intently for a few minutes.
For what felt like hours, Napoleon kept his poised stance, with one hand gripping the pommel of his sword. His hearing seemed dull. All he could hear was a faraway sort of ringing. He knew that Louise was speaking. He watched her mouth move from the corner of his eyes.
Louise kept talking, and talking, but Napoleon could not make out her words. He could not hear anything but that distant ringing and the sloshing sounds of the water in front of him. This thing in front of them was watching both of them. It was watching Louise most of all. Napoleon began to sense a bad feeling rising up from inside of him. His left hand began to itch. It burned—the Gandalfr runes on the back of his hand began to burn like a rash. Louise seemed to stop.
Louise turned her head back to look at him. The humanoid body of water seemed to do the same.
But when its 'head' turned to face Napoleon, it visibly recoiled a little. Napoleon swore he saw a sharp, narrow wave crawl throughout the body, the kind you would see after hurling a pebble into a rain pond. The water recoiled one more time then it morphed into something shocking.
The water sloshed, splashed and dripped over itself, and slowly, once it had finished, both Louise and Napoleon's eyes widened.
There was a literal replica of Napoleon out of pure water. He couldn't help but instinctively dare to step forward. And as Napoleon drew closer with small, wary steps, so did the wave of water which inched little by little to the shore.
The water spirit was mimicking him. It was mirroring his appearance, and while the humanoid face of the water was far from accurate or believable, it was disturbingly recognizable and symbolic.
Napoleon dared to ask a question.
"Who are you?" The Emperor asked in a loud voice.
The Water Spirit, still possessing the mirrored silhouette of the French Emperor, shuddered.
Louise flinched when she heard the spirit's voice for the first time. It gurgled.
"Is that any way to speak to me?"
Napoleon stopped. The water silhouette of the French Emperor began to draw closer.
"I don't know what you are, Familiar, but you are not a human. No human could give off such a strong scent of blood."
The Water Spirit bubbled and spoke in a horrible, guttural tone. It sounded like the voice of someone who was drowning.
It wasn't welcoming, it wasn't overtly hostile, but it was thoroughly menacing.
Napoleon did not break his gaze over it. The liquid silhouette began to shift and change now.
Lannes was staring at him.
"Don't listen to everyone, Napoleon. They flatter you, they bow and scrape, but they don't love you. They will betray you."
Duroc was staring at him.
"All my life, has been devoted to your service, Your Majesty. I am dead. Long Live Your Majesty, and I am dead."
Junot was staring at him.
"We're all dead, Captain," Junot smiled sadly.
Lannes, Duroc, Junot.
Then came General De Poitiers. Agnes. Queen Henrietta. Siesta. Louise's father.
Louise.
Everyone was saying the same thing to him:
We're all dead.
The Water Spirit had turned into a monster. Napoleon couldn't move. The sky was black and the lake was blood. Everything smelled like blood. This had to be a nightmare.
"Move away, Napoleon! Move away now! NAPOLEON!" she screamed.
Louise, standing at the side, screamed at Napoleon, but he did not move. He would not. He seemed deaf, hypnotized. She had watched in horror after she herself had luckily snapped out of her own indescribable trance and found her partner staring at the tower of water rising from the shores of the Lagdorian Lake.
The tower began to titter under its sheer volume, and finally, limbs of water branched out and reared up like massive serpents. These shot out swiftly and viciously as a falling pillar at the emperor, as if the Water Spirit intended to kill him.
Louise did not hesitate, and tore out her black stiletto-wand and turned it against the body of water.
"eyðileggja!"
BANG!
She uttered her command. There was a flash, then a strong but brief wave of dazzling heat that raised no smoke. The sharp, violent force of the blast threw both of them back. Louise felt herself momentarily float in the air, weightless as a bird, then hit the ground hard. She rolled into a clump of bushes. She scrambled up with a cough and gazed frantically with wide eyes for her partner.
Napoleon was across from her, leaning against a trunk. He was making an effort to get up, and brushed his knees off. Her void explosion had bridged the gap between Napoleon and the hostile Water Spirit's attacking aqueous forms, before the spirit succeeded in hurting her partner, and blasted the tentacles of water into pure vapor. Droplets continued to rain around them.
The Water Spirit was gone. There was only silence and the eerie sloshing of the lake.
Napoleon recovered and looked across to her. He shook himself.
"Louise! Your hand is bleeding!"
Napoleon gasped and went over to her quickly.
Louise winced and drew a raspy breath. She gritted her teeth as she cradled her bloodied hand. Napoleon checked her over and brushed away the strands of hair on her face. He lifted her chin concernedly.
"What is it?" Napoleon asked her.
"The stiletto-wand," Louise muttered.
"What kind of spell was that?"
"It's an explosion, a typical one. Except I didn't recite the full incantation, and used this to concentrate all the raw Void…"
She put away the black, steel weapon into her cloak. Her wounded hand looked like it had been sliced up by a wild cat. It was a superficial wound, Napoleon determined, but it still was alarming. Louise took a few moments to breathe, before she explained quietly.
"When I was a first-year student at the Academy, I failed all of the basic spell casting procedures Professor Chevreuse taught us. I never succeeded in casting any elemental spell. I always ended up creating a messy explosion, which is why all of my classmates called me the Zero.
"I also found out that whenever the type of explosion I created was too powerful, it always broke or destroyed the wooden student wands issued to us. It was very problematic - big sis Eleanor always warned me that I would have to buy new ones out of my own pocket money at that rate, and it was expensive! My grandfather passed on to me his own oak wand. I still have it, though I never used it before, for fear of blowing it up…"
Louise gave a gloomy kind of laugh. She looked up at Napoleon.
"A foci made out of something strong, like metal, would not break. However," she said, "it has the nasty effect of hurting me. A powerful explosion likely won't break this steel stiletto-wand, it can actually harness more of the Void which I normally lose control of, but it can injure my hand…"
Napoleon frowned. "I do not think that was a very wise choice of yours, Louise," he said quietly.
"Yes…"
"You are sacrificing your own health for power," Napoleon warned. "That is a path you must be very wary of."
Louise shrugged, frustrated. "It's not a perfect system!" she muttered. "The other choice would be to recite the full incantations for my Void magic, and that and the concentration time takes too long. Mages can cast spells swiftly, but Void magic is extremely demanding… proper incantations wouldn't break a wooden wand, it wouldn't hurt me, but look at what just happened to us. And my explosions are not strong enough. A few seconds later, you would have been struck by the Water Spirit!"
Napoleon finally relented.
"You have a point. Still, Louise. You should have let me know sooner," Napoleon said quietly.
Louise tackled and hugged him with no warning.
He kept quiet and only patted her back. She seemed awfully tense. After a few moments, Louise sighed, frustrated. She picked herself away from him. She looked back at the lake.
"Why is the spirit so angry at us?" she wondered. "We did not steal the ring of Andvari, didn't we?"
"I don't know," Napoleon crossed his arms. He began to assess very carefully.
"It seeks to reclaim the Ring of Andvari… Marquis Touraine mentioned this to us before, this ring. It's the one the Reconquista used to take over our soldiers in Saxe-Gotha while you were away, and it was why our defenses failed. As long as it remains stolen from the Water Spirit, it will not be satisfied. The lake will continue to swell, up to the foot of the surrounding mountains, and it is already flooding all of the villages in this area. It may even turn the rivers and the weather against us."
Napoleon stopped. Louise was staring at him.
"Napoleon, you look awfully pale. What was that all about a while ago? Didn't you hear me yelling at you? The Water Spirit had already spoken to me minutes ago. It wanted us to stay away, and it was getting very very mad. You were staring at it like… What's wrong? Are you hurt?"
"No. I'm just a little exhausted. Age—it happens," he muttered sardonically.
Louise did not believe him.
Napoleon glanced at her slowly. "The water… it turned into blood."
"Blood? What are you talking about? There's no blood!"
"You didn't see?"
"What did you see, Napoleon?"
Louise was flabbergasted. She looked puzzled and without a clue. There was no blood everywhere, maybe on their hands, but that was from the short summoning ritual. The ground was wet. It seemed like the water was beginning to rise again very slowly, or Louise was judging it wrongly.
"It… doesn't matter. The water was mirroring me. It turned into me."
The emperor shook his head.
"I saw that." Louise shivered. "The Water Spirit also looked like me. It spoke. And it showed me my mother, my sisters, P-Prince Wales, and Henrietta…"
Napoleon remained silent for a few minutes.
Louise said, "The Water Spirit always does that. It takes on the appearance of those that approach it. When you gaze into the water, you'll find your reflection gazing back at you. But sometimes… it can also reflect something deep inside of you, and bring it to the surface. It could be anything, like people you used to know. I know a little about it, Montmorency always talked about it, and I read it in books. I wanted to become a water mage once… you needed the Water Spirit to accept your pact with it."
"What else can it do?" Napoleon asked.
"Huh?" Louise looked at him. "That's a rather strange question. What do you mean? It can do a lot of things… I'm not quite sure. Spirits can see through a person. They can literally taste our fears and desires, and they know a lot of very… weird stuff. That's why only worthy nobles could successfully make pacts with Elemental spirits. They choose who they want to bless. The Water Spirit can either help you, or hurt you. It's been around for a long, long time—maybe Brimir created them. Since they're so old, some say they can see through time and predict future events, or something more. I don't know," Louise mumbled.
"Did you see anything else?"
"N-No. Anyway, it doesn't matter… they're just reflections."
Louise then muttered, "if a mage needed help or some kind of guidance, a Water Spirit can probably grant her one. But since it seems very pissed at us… I don't think we're in luck."
Napoleon finally began to nod. "I see."
"We have to retrieve the ring."
"Agreed."
"We'll have to find it first too," Louise grimaced. "We haven't even seen it with our own eyes! I've never seen the Ring of Andvari! If it's back in Albion…"
"No." Napoleon shook his head. He was now very methodical, and he spoke calmly.
"The Reconquista has the ring. And who is the principal orchestrator of the Reconquista? It's Sheffield, the lady familiar of the monarch of Gallia, King Joseph. It's very possible that Sheffield still has the Andvari ring - perhaps she's even the one who used it against us."
"But that would mean Gallia was supporting the Reconquista, who are all enemies of Tristain!" Louise said. "That makes the King and his court our enemies! We can't trust them - they may have been the ones to destroy Whitehall Palace and kill Oliver Cromwell once and for all, but if King Joseph's familiar is behind all this…"
"One at a time, Louise. Irregardless, this is the situation we'll have to deal with. Yes, we can't trust the king of Gallia, but the last thing we want is to give them any reason to turn against us. Right now, since King Joseph technically assisted us at Saxe- in Albion, in defeating the Reconquista, we owe them our gratitude. They may not necessarily be our allies, but we do not want them as our enemies. We can't afford another war. Given how things are, we likely won't be able to find the ring anytime soon."
Napoleon lowered his gaze. He turned away from Louise, as if thinking of something.
Saxe-Gotha. The word was like poison on the tip of his tongue. He hated speaking the word. The last thing he needed was Louise thinking of Saxe-Gotha any more than necessary, and questioning the events that happened there even more. But this cursed spirit could see through him. It saw him as a monster. How long could he hide this? Did Louise not know that the reason why the Water Spirit shunned them both was because of him? He needed to bury that town and everything that transpired there that night, or else…
.
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Author note: I am quite happy with how this one turned out. Not only was I able to dig up a rare, original piece by Nietzchian which had sadly not made it to the EoZ fanfic on this site, but I was able to preserve it almost word-for-word, keeping edits to a minimum and also incorporating it wonderfully into this continuation as a chapter opening and backdrop. For those curious, the original Emperor of Zero story ran in the SpaceBattles forum. I recommend checking it out as well.
Chapters 5 and 6 were honestly one of the most tedious to write, and I wanted to post them back to back so as not to keep readers on bad cliffhangers. I really hope I was able to capture the same 'adventurous' atmosphere felt from the beginning parts of the original EoZ. So much has diverged from the canon line of the story it's crazy. So many situations had turned out different, and I think this chapter is one. Looking at Episode 9 of the anime and this… I have to say, it's quite darker.
Until the next chapter. Happy holidays and thanks for reading!
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