It'd been a good birthday for Allard.
He had gone fishing! Some of the old men at Fleurve Cendre had agreed to take the children on a stroll to their old hunting grounds. He'd seen Blubberbeasts, tons of Aberrants, and even a mechanical fish!
Then, Brother had taken him to the many food stalls around the plaza and the port north to the Palais.
He'd eaten macrons, fish and a whole lot of things.
Brother had then taken him to Uncle Callas's big house( Brother said it was a 'mansion', but he didn't know what that was) and they'd had a big party. Clori, Navia and a few kids from Poisson had given him gifts wrapped in wrapping paper, so he had thanked them (like brother had taught him to) and they'd eaten pizza. It then started to get dark, so they said there goodbyes and started on the long walk home.
He was smiling ear-to-ear, while Brother had his usual frown in place, as he kept looking around for goodness knows what. What mattered was that he had gifts in his hand, so he won't be bored for months.
Suddenly, Brother stilled.
"Allard, I want you to start running now. We're gonna have a race to home, alright?"
"Wha- why? I'm tired, I don't wanna."
"Just start running, please."
He gave his brother a mock- glare. "Alright, if you say so. What about the gifts?"
"Just drop them here, I'll pick them up when I start running."
Brother was acting weird, but then, he always did. So hr dropped the gifts, and began getting ready to run.
He heard a horrible sound, the kind you hear when you slam a metal pole into fish on the deck.
He turned around, and all breath left his lungs in a wheeze.
His stomach was paining. His brother- by god, Brother! He had fallen down, and there was a big man with a pipe in his hands, covered in something dark. Another one was standing near him, wiping his shoe. Allard couldn't breathe properly- his breath was coming in short gasps.
"Oh lordy! We got two kids today, chum. I can smell the roast pig by now."
"What do you think we're gonna get for this pair? This lad is big, but the smaller one doesn't have any muscle at all."
"Pah, who cares? This one's knocked out, so gag the other one. We'll be making a pretty penny when we sell them to the foster home."
These were bad men. His heart was beating erratically. He dragged himself by his hands backwards, away from the pair.
Allard took in another gasp. "Who are you? What did you do to my brother?"
The smaller man laughed. "Look at this kid, Paul. He thinks he can run away."
He grabbed Allard by the scruff of his neck, and then- PAIN. His ears were ringing. "AAH. My face! My faaace!" He yowled on the ground. "Please, please let me go. I'll do whatever you want. Please let me and my brother go!"
The men laughed, and Allard felt cold. Very cold. He looked at his hands. He had never seen this much blood before.
Both the men squatted where he laid, and one tied a cloth around his mouth. He couldn't get any words out- his throat had gone hoarse with screaming.
Suddenly, the bigger man screamed, and fell.
The smaller man whirled around, and dropped to his knees with a groan, holding his groin.
His brother was standing there, a knife in his hands, smeared with blood. He could see a long slash across the bigger man's back leaking blood. He threw himself on the smaller man, and stabbed his stomach.
There was a pressure in Allard's chest.
The smaller man whimpered, and tried to catch Brother, but he slashed his hands too. The bigger man groaned behind his brother, and got up on his knees.
He wanted to scream, to do anything. But he couldn't. He had nothing. Useless.
His brother looked at him, smiling. "It's fine now, Allard. Let's go."
"MMMPH- MMPHHHH!"
"Wha-" The bigger man punched the back of his brother's head. Brother fell down, and wheezed as the man stomped on his stomach. He stabbed the man's foot. The man screamed, and kicked Brother in his side.
The man wasn't stopping. He kept kicking, and kicking, and kicking.
His brother was dying, and he couldn't do anything. Nothing to protect him. His chest hurt.
Kicking, and kicking, and kicking.
His brother was dying, trying to save him. But he couldn't even speak.
Kicking, and kicking, AND KICKI-
The gag came loose, and his chest felt like it could burst from the pressure.
"LET HIM GO!"
The man was blown off his feet, into the nearby wall. He slumped as soon as he hit the ground. A rock pillar was suddenly there where the man was. The dark was now awash with yellow light. Something was glowing on the ground.
He couldn't care less. He got up and ran towards his brother, his knees scraping.
"ALFY, ALFY! WAKE UP!"
He did not know when he put his head down and began to cry.
He felt a hand on his shoulder. His eyes shot open, and he whirled around. Were one of tho-
It was Brother. His hair had become matted with blood, and his hand held something that was glowing the same yellow he'd seen before. His face was a mess- a welt had begun to form near his eyes, and his entire face was swollen. But he was still smiling.
"Ayy, Allard. You got a Geo Vision. Never knew you had it in you, you little squirt."
Allard did not know what a vision was, but it didn't matter to him when he hugged his brother.
xxxx
xxxxx
"I'm Charlotte, from The Steambird, and I was at the theatre five days ago."
She motioned towards the newspaper she had been carrying, which was now lying on the floor.
"You can read that if you want."
He didn't even look at it. "How did you recognize me?"
She pointed towards the screen of the camera slung around her neck. He slowly moved in front of her, and unstrapped the camera from its sling.
There was a photo open there, one of him standing in the dark of the theatre at his seat, before he had put his mask on.The photograph was deleted without a thought.
He looked up at the journalist with a smirk. 'And now what? You can't do anything to me without the photograph."
"Do you believe me to be a fool, Mr. Rousseau? I have a few backups back at The Steambird, that I have told my friends to put in the papers tomorrow, if I'm late for work tomorrow."
The man stared at her for a moment, then sheathed his sword with a sigh.
"Well, what do you want from me then?'
She cheered internally. She'd won in a battle of wits against a Gardien de Fontaine! Sure, she'd been preparing for it for the past five days, and he had been acting on the fly, but those were just words. Probably.
She pulled herself together. "I just wanted to talk."
Mr. Rousseau made a face." Oh no, Sir Neuvillette had told me about this- 'With great fame, comes equally insane stalkers.' That's why you're here, aren't you?"
Oh fuck, did he find out about the magazines? Oh no, no ,no.
"Clicking pictures of me when you were hidden in the dark, following me home from Archon knows where, still wanting to talkto me after I borderline threatened yo-"
Her brain, still reeling from what the heck did Sir Neuvillette say, finally caught up to what he had been accusing her of. "NO! Wait, it's nothing like that, I swear! I know it looks bad, but I can explain!"
". . ."
" . . ."
"I was trying to make a joke, you know?"
Charlotte almost combusted then and there. Alfonso Rousseau did not know about the …raunchy magazines that the editing house had been pushing out, thank the Archon.
Gardiens and Champion Duelists' were public favourites- each issue of the magazine would be sold out in a day or two of issuing. Though she was embarrassed to admit it now, she had read some of them herself, and now that she was sitting in front of the real deal, she was pleasantly surprised at how much the artists had got right- verdant green eyes, wide shoulders, and since he was in a tight fitting shirt, she could also confirm that he was pretty pleasing to look at….
Charlotte shook her head to clear it. Now was not the time, dammit! She pointed to the newspaper.
"Open it to page 5, and read the headline."
He walked over to pick it up. She watched his face as it twisted into a rictus of terror.
"What the hell is this title! MAN AGAINST GOD? I don't hate the Archon, but the people will surely hate me! And what the heck kind of picture is that? What the hell is The Steambird doing?!"
It was a little jarring to see a Gardien so worked up. They were the picture of perfection wherever they were in public- be it at the marches, celebrations or by The Iudex's side. When Mr. Rousseau had come second at the Duelist trials four years ago, there was nary a hint of emotion on his face. And here he was today, close to tearing his hair out over a news article.
"Relax, Mr. Rousseau. You do not know our public well, it seems. The article has our publics approval, and so does the masked man, AKA you."
She continued. " The people love the masked man- the hidden joker in the pack, the elemnt of surprise in an otherwise boring play. Unfortunately, or fortunately, Mr. Rousseau, Fontainians love the drama more than justice. They live for the spectacle more than they do for the court, and you, Mr. Rousseau provided them with a spectacle that would be talked about for years."
He stared at the floor, deep in thought. It was unfortunate the people's thinking was so, but there were plenty of people in the world who struggled to change this.
He looked up at her, and there was an odd gleam in her eyes. "But for me, the spectacle isn't enough. Consider it a selfish desire, but I want the truth, and nothing but the truth. Veritas super omnia, and all of that. You have already brought attention to this issue, so everybody will be dying to see how this play ends, how the twist unfolds. Give me the truth, and I can promise you, Mr. Rousseau, that ALL of Fontaine will listen."
Silence reigned. He was staring at her, and she felt a tad bit embarrassed. Had she been too intense? She turned her gaze to window, suddenly not wanting to meet his.
She heard him clear his throat.
"Alright, Miss Charlotte. You have my undivided attention. Ask and I shall tell you what I know."
For the second time that day, Charlotte cheered internally.
"You have my gratitude, Mr. Rousseau. Let's begin."
xxxxx
"Aaaaaaannnd that's it. Thank you for this again, Mr. Rousseau. You will see this article in tomorrow's paper for sure."
He nodded, and watched her tidy up her waste papers and pick up her recorder.
He'd recalled where he'd seen this girl before. She'd been tied up and thrown into the sea after she'd gone after an off-shore smuggling ring, and he'd been the one to dive in and fish her out.
He'd thought she was just another reporter trying to get her big break, but then she'd done it again and again. Today had changed his view of her.
Charlotte was the epitome of what a journalist should be. No matter the danger, no matter the bribes, she would always chase the truth, and only the truth.
"It was an honour talking to you, Mr. Rousseau. Interviewing someone so esteemed had been on my bucket list."
"Nonsense. The honour is mine, Miss Charlotte. You are already a hero to Fontaine. I, in comparison, am nothing."
Charlotte blushed. Mr. Rousseau was a very respectable man- four years in service, and she had not found even a drop of corruption running through his veins. To be called a hero by someone like him was… invigorating, to say the least.
"Off the record, but why didn't you comment on the Archon in the interview? It's not as if we revealed that you were the masked man- you could say whatever you want."
He thought for a second, and answered. "Everything I could have said would've been an opinion at best, and an utter falsehood at worst. That evening at the theater, I was not… in a right state of mind.
I was being driven by anger and desperation, and had said things I had no proof of. Maybe I am wrong and the Archon isdoing something. Who knows? Men cannot understand the minds of gods. You wanted nothing but the truth, so I gave you nothing but the truth."
Charlotte nodded, and picked up her bag. "Well, if that is all, I will be taking my leave. Archon willing, we will meet again."
He stood up to see her off, and she walked off into the night.
There was an odd lightness in his body now, almost as if a burden had been lifted from his shoulders. He chuckled. Allard had been right all along about 'just talk to someone', then.
Xxxxx
Allard was feeling somewhat nervous.
Sir Iudex had summoned him for a meeting regarding some issues, so here he was, standing outside the door to the Iudex's office. He adjusted the collar of his shirt for the tenth time, and resumed tapping his fingers on the wall.
The bell rung, and Sedene motioned him to go inside. He took a deep breath, and stepped in.
The Iudex was at his desk. He looked up towards Allard, and nodded.
Allard walked carefully to the couch, and sat on one, the desk in front of him stacked with papers. It was understandable- nobody in Fontaine worked harder than Sir Iudex.
"I can see that you are tense, Allard. Don't be, this is a small issue. Calm your body."
Allard let his shoulders fall back, and he sighed. "What is it, Sir Iudex? We both know you wouldn't have called me here if this task wasn't important."
The Iudex remained impassive, and took a sip of water. Allard had very distinct memories of the Iudex regaling him with tales about different lakes and waters of Teyvat, that he had discerned just from a sip of said water. It could get a tad bit annoying because he couldn't understand the difference (water was water man, be it from Monstadt or Inazuma) , but he wouldn't complain- he could at least do this much for a man as esteemed as Sir Iudex.
Sir Iudex sighed. "You are very perceptive, Allard. Nonetheless, you are correct. There is a situation involving the foreign dignitaries stranded here due to the lack of ships. This is crucial to our foreign relations, and is thus a very sensitive matter. You and Alfonso are to meet and calm these people, and see them off when the weekly ship comes to the port north of the Palais."
Allard hiked his eyebrows. "Why isn't Foreign Relations handling this? Someone like Chevalier must have much more experience than we do on this topic."
Sir Iudex hummed. "The thought crossed my mind too, but this is a rather unprecedented situation. Tensions are high due to the imminent threat of the Seawater, and everyone is running around in a frenzy. I'd like to send someone I trust."
Allard nodded. If Sir Iudex was concerned that much, then some big hot-shots were going to be there. Inside, he groaned. Dealing with embassy officials was a right pain in the ass- it'd been Chevalier who did it last time, and she'd almost broken down after her meeting and drunk herself asleep. Add some life-threatening prophecy spice to the mix, and he might as well say goodbye to a few nights of sleep.
"I have arranged a meeting with them tomorrow at seven. Prepare yourself if you must."
Allard got up from his seat."Of course, sir. Is that all?"
The Iudex hesitated. Did he want to say something else too?
He took slow steps to the door. If someone wishes to say something, try to give them time to compose themselves. Take attention off them to allow them to focus.
"Actually yes, there is something else too. Do you have a minute, Allard?"
Empathy for the win. He glanced at his watch. He smiled. "I have an hour to kill, Sir Iudex. Please tell me what you desire from this humble Gardien."
Note:
Nothing but talking in this chapter, but I wanted to set some things up. As always, please leave a review- tell me what you liked and/or what you'd like to see improve in my writing.