Louise, Siesta, and their friends and family had been so fortunate to avoid funerals throughout their trials. That luck had now run its gathered in the newly-reclaimed Albion, Matilda's home country, to pay respects to their fallen ally. Despite the trickle of rain that came and went from the gray skies in this open, green field among small hills that they gathered at, it was not terribly cold. And despite this loss… none of them were feeling any desire for tears.
No one knew what to do. Or who should say what.
She had no surviving family members. No close friends they could find. And what they did learn about her from what bits could be gleaned from her past were a mix of horrific and tragic. Even on top of what Siesta and Guiche already knew.
It was ultimately Guiche who came to the forefront, a look of haunted conviction on his face.
"I can't say I knew her very well. None of us really did. Some not at all. Some knew her as the kindly and long-suffering secretary Miss Longueville. Some knew her as the dastardly thief and terrorist Fouquet. Very few knew her as Matilda. Matilda da Saxe-Gotha. Legendary Square-Class mage who was worth a thousand times the soldiers she faced when defending her home. Almost to the bitter end. And to be… taken from the world. Like this? It is sickening. To know such a lucky coward out there would do this. And leave her the way she was…"
Guiche paused with a melancholic, contemplative expression as he gathered his thoughts to continue.
"After all she did? Not in her past. But for us? People she hardly knew? We were bonded. Not by kinship. But solidarity. And she more than proved her worth many times over in a short time with us."
A wry half-smile curled one side of Guiche's mouth.
"The one time I was able to talk to her, sincerely, she scoffed at my praise. And rebuked me with her scars. 'This is the price of being a legend' she told me. She meant more than that, I could tell. Whether intentionally or not, she was warning me not to waste my life chasing glory. I saw that. I see that. In that moment I feel we grew closer than she intended. And… I will not forget her. Nor her words. Nor her valiance in the face of overwhelming odds. Even if she did not know it. Or would not acknowledge it. We were bonded. Not by friendship. But by blood. A blood of covenant forged in battle. Which made her as family to us."
Guiche regarded his small audience. He could see various looks of warmth among them.
"I suppose, then, there is an important lesson to be learned from what happened to her. It could happen to any of us. At any time. And she wanted me to know that when she bared her scars to me." Guiche looked at the fresh mound of dirt under which Matilda was buried. "I will. Matilda. I will take it to heart."
Guiche looked back to his audience, raising an invisible glass with his right hand.
"So, a toast to you, Matilda da Saxe-Gotha. You will not be forgotten. I promise you."
His audience raised their hands in a similar manner, with murmurs of agreement coming from them.
Among them, Henrietta's countenance bore a fire that was practically making her sweat. Certainly Matilda wouldn't be forgotten. If Henrietta had anything to say about it.
Following Guiche's speech at this small gathering of a funeral, Julien and Aly approached Louise and Siesta, giving looks of conviction to the two.
"Siesta," Julien began as he motioned at Aly, "this is my… friend. We fought together at Tarbes."
Siesta's eyes went slightly wider as she beheld this severe-looking woman that looked no older than her.
"Why hesitate on the word 'friend'?" Aly asked, slightly amused.
"Feels insufficient to describe our bond. More than friends, definitely not lovers," Julien gave a playful scoff, which she mirrored.
"Definitely not, can you imagine?" Aly chuckled.
"Not even," Julien matched her chuckle. Once their brief shared moment of mirth was over they looked back at the girls with conviction once more.
"Siesta… I'm here to tell you that-."
Siesta fervently shook her head to interrupt her brother as she took him in a tight embrace.
"No! It's-!"
"Before you tell me it's too dangerous," Julien serenely chided her, "Just know my mind is made up. You have your duties. And I'm the same age as your wife."
"That doesn't matter. You'll always be my baby brother. No matter what," Siesta defiantly said as she felt the lightest wave of tears in her eyes begin manifesting.
Julien patted her back, "And you'll always be my big sis, but I'm growing up now. And sometimes… that means I'm gonna make decisions you're not gonna like. Do things you don't want me to do."
Those words rang eerily familiar to Louise and Siesta.
And it was enough for Siesta as she pulled back and gave her brother a solemn look of acceptance.
"I know," Siesta began, wiping the small amount of tears she had from her eyes, "I just… look at you and see the annoying little brother who wouldn't stop staring at me doing things until it made me mad. Or wouldn't stop following me around. Or wouldn't stop trying to take my toys or books without asking. And…" she gave a single, mirthless laugh, "it makes it… hard."
Julien gave her a warm, sympathetic smile, "I know, Siesta, but I promise," Julien looked over at Aly, "we'll look out for each other. Just like we have been."
Aly nodded with calm conviction to Siesta, who could feel that she was genuine. And that both of them were unwavering in their resolve. With great hesitation, she nodded at them both.
"Thank you, Siesta," Julien said, giving his sister a wide smile.
"But if you die," Siesta grabbed his shoulders and gave him a playfully serious look, "I'm telling on you."
Julien shared a hearty laugh with his sister. Once their laughter had ceased, they took each other into a warm embrace before he and Aly went to meet with the Queen, who was speaking with Tabitha.
"Did you know her? Matilda?" Julien asked as they walked.
Aly shook her head, "Just met her once. But to know she gave her life for me…"
"I know. It's something we could never repay," Julien said in a solemn, contemplative tone.
Aly nodded. "No matter what, she was a comrade."
Julien nodded in agreement as they finally met with Henrietta.
Meanwhile, just a little earlier, Henrietta had approached Tabitha, Kirche, and an unfamiliar, shrouded, cloak-adorned figure who stood near them. She met the trio with a furrowed-brow look of conviction upon her face.
"Yes?" Tabitha asked in their usual, monotone way.
"You have taken over the UED, yes?" Henrietta surmised.
Tabitha nodded.
"I hate to be so quick about this, but I must ask for your assistance," Henrietta asked.
Tabitha arched a brow.
"We ask for explosives. And whatever equipment that allows Ghosts to turn invisible," Henrietta requested.
"Explosives I can do, Ghost equipment no," Tabitha informed.
It was Henrietta's turn to arch a brow, "Why not?"
"Won't work unless wearer is psionic," Tabitha explained.
Henrietta felt a bit crestfallen at that but resigned herself to the truth as she sighed, "How soon can you get the explosives to me?"
"Few hours," Tabitha informed. Henrietta felt a prick of hope at this. It looked like everything was coming together well.
That was when Aly and Julien approached, interrupting them.
"Hmm, that one looks familiar…" Kirche noticed when she regarded Julien. After a moment she snapped her fingers, "You must be related to Siesta! You look so much like her!"
"Thanks?" Julien sheepishly laughed.
"Are we just about ready?" Aly asked, ignoring the interaction.
Henrietta looked over to Agnes, who was holding hands with Tiffa while looking over the newly-dug grave. It put a small smile on Henrietta's face to see Agnes embrace open affection like this. After a moment, Agnes turned her head to regard Henrietta, furrowing her brow and giving a nod of conviction that Henrietta mirrored before looking back to the two former Jacobins.
"I believe we are." Henrietta nodded to Tabitha and Kirche, briefly gave a suspicious look to their new third wheel, and took Julien and Aly to gather Agnes.
Tabitha turned to Saito, who was obscuring his visage with a cloak and scarf. He protested coming down here, but Tabitha did not want to let him out of their sight. Not yet.
Mott had never been prouder. As his ocean blue eyes scanned out the cloudy, gray, drizzled landscape of Tristain from one of the many bedrooms in Chelenne's new mansion, he gave a contented sigh. His moment was interrupted by a whimper and sob behind him, to which he shot a glare to the fetal, pathetic form of a girl that he had just gifted the pleasure of his time.
He always found it mildly irritating. How they recoiled from him. How they would cry and beg for him to stop.
He also found it exhilarating. Fewer things gave him feelings of power than to break these toys. And this ungrateful one looked well spent.
"Guards?" Mott asked in a casual manner, causing the bedroom door to open and a heavily armored guard with their face completely obscured entered. He pointed to the whimpering girl on his bed, "I'm done with that one. Take her away and fetch me a fresh one, would you?"
"Right away, High Justice," the guard acknowledged while he briskly walked over to the woman and dragged her kicking and screaming from the room. Music to Mott's ears. Not just her suffering, but his title.
High Justice Mott, he thought with a chuckle. He deserved it. After that wretched witch and her brat friends nearly ruined him. He clenched his fists and jaw at the thought, before, after a moment, relaxing as a smug look broke out upon his face.
No matter, Mott dismissed as he turned to walk to a table nearby and pour himself a cup of the vintage wine he never got to enjoy that night. There's still plenty of time to find and break you, little rabbit.
As he sipped on his wine, there was a knock upon his door. Feeling a sudden rush of anticipation for the delivery of a new toy, he set the wine glass down and straightened his suit top.
I hope she's even more fresh than the last one, Mott thought.
"Come in," Mott said in a sultry tone.
The door opened to reveal none other than his long time friend, who gave him an amused look and chuckled.
"Were you expecting something else?" Chelenne asked as he smirked at his friend whose face was adorned with unpleasant surprise, "You should see your face."
After a moment, Mott's face relaxed into an equally amused look as he looked down at his shorter friend, "Well, as long as it's you, I'm not too disappointed."
"Coming on to me? Didn't know you were like that," Chelenne teased.
"Please," Mott shook his head, "You're a little old for my tastes."
"Nothing to say about the… equipment compatibility?" Chelenne joked.
"A hole's a hole," Mott joked back, causing Chelenne to bark out a few laughs.
"Ah, I enjoy this. I enjoy us being free to do this again. Just hang out and be buddies like the old days," Chelenne offered his hand to Mott, who took it in a firm grasp while he smiled down at his friend.
"I missed it too," Mott's expression soured upon thinking about the momentary interruption in his life.
"Thinking about those brats?" Chelenne wondered.
Mott scowled and nodded.
"I think about them everyday, too. Where do a bunch of little girls get off thinking they know anything about the world? Pure arrogance. Children these days just don't know how to respect their elders," Chelenne returned his scowl and shook his head.
"I agree," Mott said as he picked up his wine glass and took another sip, gesturing to the bottle with his chin, to which Chelenne held up a hand and shook his head. "But after we spring our trap on the Queen tonight we won't have to worry about that much longer. What could they do?"
Chelenne furrowed his brow at his friend in warning, "Watch it. Don't tempt fate."
"What fate?" Mott scoffed, "If we were not meant to rule we would not have been gifted these blessings by the Founder. It condones our each and every action. Don't you agree?"
"For the most part…" Chelenne answered, unsure.
"Listen, my friend, never doubt for a second that we are in the right. It is as the church teaches us. The nobles are meant to rule. The plebeians are meant to serve. That is the natural order of things. Anything else would be tantamount to heresy and anarchy," Mott reassured his friend. "And if we were not meant to rule, why were we born with more than others? Born with power? And we not only had it gifted to us, but we invested in these traits. Grew them. While upstarts and degenerates with delusions borne of fairy tales seek to simply take it from us out of jealousy. They go against the will of the Founder. It is our sacred duty to reaffirm our status and make examples of them."
Chelenne took a deep breath and gave his friend a warm smile, "You always knew the right things to say to calm me, you know?"
Mott returned his smile as he clapped a hand on his shoulder, "Of course! What are friends for?"
Another knock on the door.
"High Justice, we have the new one for you," a guard informed from the other side, causing Mott's face to break out in a giddy, yet sadistic smile as he heard a new, younger-sounding whimpering on the other end.
Chelenne chucked and shook his head, "You really are a sick bastard, you know that?"
Henrietta, Agnes, Julien, Aly, and surviving members of the Musketeer squadron arrived at Chelenne's mansion under cover of darkness. They watched nobles from all throughout Tristain, and even beyond, arrive and trickle into the mansion. One of Agnes' scouting musketeers, clad in a black cloak, approached them.
"The perimeter is secure," the woman said, her tone slightly unsure.
"Speak freely, corporal," Agnes commanded.
"It felt… too easy. The perimeter guards were sparse, and what ones we encountered put up very little resistance, surrendering almost as soon as they saw us," the woman informed, trepidation in her tone.
Agnes placed a hand on her chin and hummed, "Feels like a trap."
"I agree," Henrietta said with a nod. "My guess is that when Aly was discovered listening in on their plans, they knew I'd try something. Personally. They know what corner I'm backed into."
"Are you saying they let me go?" Aly wondered aloud, incredulous.
Henrietta shook her head, "I'm not sure. It's possible, but it doesn't matter. What matters is what we do know. That the perimeter was easily-breached and it seems we have easy access to the mansion. It is only a guess, on our part, but an educated one that this is a trap."
"So… what shall we do?" the scouting musketeer asked.
"We proceed as normal. I doubt they were planning on the UED turning to our side after supporting them from the shadows," Henrietta said with a smirk.
Mott was preening himself in the room when there was an urgent knock at the door.
"High Justice! Our spotters have confirmed they're here!" a guard informed him from the other end.
Mott smirked. It was going just as he'd planned.
"Do not make a move until we confirm Henrietta is in range," Mott ordered.
"Yes, m'lord!" the guard confirmed.
Henrietta noticed the grass surrounding this mansion was… too fresh. She knew this place was newly built, but it struck her as suspicious nonetheless. She ordered everyone to stay back. Then, she called upon what wind magic she could summon to create an exceptionally strong gust at the grass before her, and narrowed her eyes at what was revealed.
Just as I thought, Henrietta observed as she saw metal objects and shiny strings revealed to her. Explosives. They were planning to lure us in and set them off. The way must be thick with them.
She turned back to her squad, "The lawn surrounding the mansion is primed with explosives." Henrietta took a moment to recalculate their position. Happening upon a new plan, she smirked. "I will take the lead."
Her squad drew in sharp breaths at this.
"Y-Your highness! Surely you can't-?"
Henrietta held up a hand to interrupt Agnes' protests, still confidently smirking, "I didn't say I would go by ground." She looked at Aly and Julien, each holding Ghost rifles with confidence.
They weren't lying. They really did get trained, Henrietta observed before turning back to the rest of the squad.
"Agnes. Use some of our explosives to detonate theirs. I doubt they planned on us bringing some of our own. I also doubt they would have put them close enough to the mansion to cause it any serious harm. I imagine they were more hoping for a light show to entertain themselves."
Agnes and the rest of the squad snickered.
"Well, as it will be the last thing they may ever enjoy, let's give them one. I imagine they also did not space them out wisely and it will only take a handful of ours to detonate all of theirs. Set them for a timed explosion. After they go off, wait for my signal to charge in and plant the next wave of explosives to enter the building. Kill anyone except servants. I'm confident they'll be distinguishable from the guests. I shall give you more instructions once I am ready," She made sure her gaze was fixed on Julien and Aly.
"How good would you say you are with those?" Henrietta asked.
"Me? Excellent. Him? Couldn't hit the broad side of a castle if it was right in front of him," Aly teased, earning a scowl from Julien.
"Shut up! You know I was just behind you in training!" Julien defended himself while Aly chuckled at his expense.
Henrietta smiled with determination at them as she nodded and turned to Agnes. "You're the only one I truly trust to make your shots count. Do you trust your musketeers to carry this out without your direct guidance?"
Agnes confidently nodded, "Though, with the communication devices given to us by Tabitha I don't think communication will be our problem."
Henrietta smirked.
"Alright, I'm going to draw upon my wind magic to cloak you, me, Aly and Julien as I float us to the roof. There will undoubtedly be guards there. Your shots do not need to be perfect, as we really just need to land on the roof unharmed, but please make them count," Henrietta ordered.
Her personal escort nodded in unison.
Henrietta returned their nods. "Let's move out."
The first explosion occurred outside. Mott regarded it with a smirk, thinking he'd finally been rid of that pesky "Queen".
Then there was another.
And another.
And another.
Mott's confidence visibly faltered. There was no way she could have mustered the forces to surround the entire mansion. Her monetary resources were cut off. And the army wasn't centralized, it was under the control of nobles who were all loyal to him and the rest of the Jacobins.
Except for three.
Gramont? That philanderous, old fool knew his affairs would be revealed to the rest of the noble houses if he didn't keep out of this.
Montmorency? Mott scoffed at the idea that he could summon forth anything when he was one Ecu from the poor house.
Valliere? That would be a terrifying thought. And they did reaffirm their loyalty to the crown. In name only. They simply did not want to be known as kingslayers. But their suffering of Henrietta's antics and flirtations with blasphemy and degeneracy had long since run out.
And all of them were content, regardless, to simply have the enfeebled Marianne be the puppet while he and the rest of the Jacobin nobles carved everything up for themselves.
Was it the brats? Sure, that slutty maid had strange powers but she was still just one little girl.
The former Valliere girl, then? What could she do? Mott knew the truth. She could summon no constructs. And those… beings expressed no interest in human affairs.
No, this was merely a desperate, last gasp of a dying world. He felt only somewhat assured at that thought.
At least until the shots started ringing out.
From above.
Mott readied his cane.
Meanwhile, moments earlier, two of the guards on the roof were lazily keeping an eye out for any movement below.
One of them gave a sigh, causing the other to look at him.
"Hey," the sighing one said.
"Yeah?" the other answered.
"You ever wonder why we're here?" the sighing one asked.
A pause ensued while the other guard considered his question.
"Get some castoff young pussy from the nobles here?" The other guard posited.
The first one gave a hearty chuckle, "Yeah that sounds about right. Pay's not so bad, either."
"I like to think it's part of the paycheck," the second one mirrored his mirth.
An explosion made them both jump as they whipped their heads towards the source of the noise, alight with flames that now gave their surroundings the faintest glow of orange as other roof guards began frantically calling out to each other.
Another explosion came from a different part of the grounds that they also whipped their heads to. Then another. And another. Panic grew in both their hearts. This wasn't part of the deal. It was supposed to be an easy gig. Just watch some nobles, pick up some of their discarded toys and have their fun with it before throwing them away in the forest, and press a button when the Queen and her lackeys come sniffing.
So who was detonating the explosives early? And why was it happening multiple times in multiple locations?
The first guard missed the sound of a shot ringing out during the last explosion, and when he went to look at his fellow guard, he was shocked to see a blood flecked hole through his helmet.
The body of the other guard wavered for a moment before collapsing.
The momentarily live one whipped his head around and readied his musket, looking for any sign of the shooter. After a moment, another explosion went off, masking the sound of the shot that sent him to his fate.
The arrogance of these so-called "nobles", Henrietta thought bitterly as she summoned a wide blade of wind to bisect three guards charging at her within the halls of this mansion she was making her way through after her team successfully cleared the roof.
They thought they could just act with impunity and there would never be any consequences? Henrietta thought as she regarded one of the nobles raising a battlewand at her, who she lazily swiped her scepter at, causing the noble to be relieved of his hand. Before he could make a sound, Henrietta turned his blood on him, maneuvering it from his stump through his throat to strangle his cries.
Well no more, Henrietta thought with conviction as she heard shots ring out behind her, she whipped her head around to see Agnes, Julien, and Aly, all having taken down three more assailants. Tonight you face your reckoning. Not from me. No. From the people. Your victims.
Synchronized explosions rocked the outer edges of the mansion, causing Henrietta to smirk. It was all going according to plan. As she and her squad were about to round a corner, she found herself jerked back by her cloak, and looked to see Julien be the culprit while a shot rang out that was clearly meant for her.
"I… felt something," he explained in a slight daze, causing Henrietta to regard him with momentary confusion. Until she remembered who he was related to.
"So, brought the maid, did you? Good, I was hoping for a rematch," a feminine voice that everyone here at least partially recognized called out.
"No… wait… it's similar but not the same…" Michele commented, humming.
Agnes' face was contorted in rage at hearing the voice of her former Vice-Captain turned traitor. The one woman she called friend once upon a time.
"Good to see you, too, Agnes," Michele called out from around the corner, causing Agnes to draw in a sharp breath and further furrow her brow.
"Double back, highness, I shall deal with this traitor," Agnes growled as she stepped forward, only for Henrietta to catch her by the arm. Agnes turned to see Henrietta give her a look of conviction.
"If you die, I'll charge you with treason, mark my words," Henrietta playfully threatened with a smirk. Agnes returned this gesture before nodding to everyone and stepping out to meet Michele, glaring at her visage obscured by the hood of a white cloak while the traitorous former Vice-Captain kept the gun pointed at her.
Without warning, Michele fired on her.
Henrietta, Aly, and Julien gasped and went wide-eyed as they saw the shot glance off an invisible barrier that bubbled around Agnes.
Agnes smirked as she drew her sword.
Thanks, Louise, Agnes thought, recalling how Louise had given her this device that they found they didn't need to use during their mission in Romalia.
Michele removed her hood, her face revealing frustration.
"Nice toy, I wonder how long it'll last, Captain?" As Michele spat that last word, she let off a rapidfire series of shots, finding some going wide, and others once more glancing off the invisible barrier.
By the time a shot broke through, still missing Agnes as she was charging at her in a serpentine manner, she realized the gun was empty and had to draw her sword to deflect Agnes' merciless strike.
"You still vastly overestimate your position here, Agnes," Michele angrily informed as she opened one of her hands, gathering psionic energy into it.
Agnes twisted to the side, letting the psionic bolt go where she used to be and spun herself to get another swing at Michele, who once again locked swords with her, glaring at Agnes as she did.
"You couldn't beat the maid, what makes you think you can beat me?" Michele snarled.
"As I recall, you couldn't beat her either," Agnes retorted, briefly glancing down at her false leg.
Michele growled at her before launching a psionically-enhanced kick that threw Agnes back against the wall between windows of this hall that was lit by the roaring flames of the explosions from outside.
Agnes, reeling from the hit and on her hands and knees, heaving, barely had enough strength to move out of the way as Michele prepared another psionic bolt for her. By charging her once more.
Michele grabbed Agnes' wrist, causing Agnes to move her other hand to reach for her dagger, which Michele also stopped.
"Well, what n-?"
Michele's taunt was cut off prematurely by Agnes headbutting her, hearing a dull crunch of cartilage while feeling a sharp pain in her head. Michele immediately loosened her grip on Agnes, allowing her to break free and go for another strike, which Michele dodged back from as she threw her sword at Agnes.
Agnes, remembering this little trick, hit the ground as Michele closed her fist, causing the sword to fly over her and into Michele's hand. Agnes' adaptation visibly frustrated Michele. Agnes knew, from looking at her face, she was getting the upper hand, but rather than let that lead her to overconfidence, she produced one of the bombs she had on her person, priming it and charging at Michele.
SHE WOULDN'T! Michele frantically thought, only having a moment to choose between checking Agnes' convictions, thus gambling on the bomb not being real, or reactively tossing Agnes back with psionics to be safe. She chose the latter, but not before Agnes had already thrown the bomb at her, dropping and sliding under the psionic wave against the polished tile floors while drawing her off-hand dagger.
The bomb flew off and detonated, shattering the windows of this hall and making Michele falter back, just before a slash was felt on her Achilles' tendon that made her cry out and fall to one knee.
Agnes was now behind Michele, and, with no hesitation, turned and drove the dagger into her back.
Michele released a strangled attempt at a cry before falling forward into a fetal position, struggling to get the air back that was driven from her lungs.
Agnes knew she could not waste a second. She dropped her dagger, drew her pistol, and fired two shots into Michele's head, ending her struggle to hold on to life.
Once this was done, Agnes took a moment to look over the body of her former Vice-Captain, feeling a solemn wave of nostalgia wash over her. This was, after all, the only woman she called friend before she joined the family she now found herself with. They had spent so much time together. Agnes felt her potential and trained her personally. Growing close as sisters. They shared everything. She was the first one to ever hear her bear her soul regarding what happened at D'Angelterre.
Agnes clenched her fists and bit her lip.
To think this woman was also working with the very man who ordered everyone in her village slaughtered behind her back? Were all those tear-filled talks and affectionate embraces fake?
She then thought of Tiffa. And how they not only forged a bond even stronger than what she ever had with Michele, but how she felt… safer in her arms.
It made her relax. Soon she would bear her all to Tiffa just the same. For now, though, she still had to feel this loss before her. Just as she felt the loss the night she found she turned traitor. She kneeled beside the body of her old friend, giving it a mournful look while the lightest burning of tears was felt in her eyes.
I'm sorry, Agnes thought mournfully. She needed a bit before she could go back to Henrietta's plan.
Earlier, as Agnes instructed, Julien, Aly, and Henrietta took to the halls away from the conflict between the Captain and her former Vice-Captain. The floor plans that Henrietta had acquired were proving useful here as they went room to room, haphazardly laying covering fire to drive the nobles they found from them through back doors she knew the rooms had.
One room, however, gave them pause as they found not just a noble, but a shivering, terrified woman-no-girl with her clothes nearly torn from her cowering on the floor while the noble within the room, some young man with a clean-cut, sharp jawline and piercing, cold, blue eyes that were fanatically widened below well-combed short, golden hair, was holding her from behind, a knife at her throat and a battlewand aimed directly at the entrance.
"Stay back! Or-!"
Before he could finish his threat, Julien had already landed a shot into his forehead, causing him to slump and fall away from the girl who fell forward with a horrified shriek into hands.
"Ha! See? What'd I-?"
"Julien," Aly gently, yet curtly, cut him off as she gave him a haunted look, "Don't."
Julien opened his mouth to protest, but upon taking in Aly's face he merely nodded and lowered his rifle.
"Hey," Aly cooed to the quietly sobbing girl as she slowly approached, setting her rifle on the floor before holding up her fingerless-gloved hands.
"It's okay. You're okay, now." Aly kneeled before the girl, removing her cloak and draping it over the sobbing victim as she gently shushed her.
"You're gonna be okay. I promise," Aly spoke in a soft, quavering voice as she slowly leaned forward and took the girl into a warm embrace, smoothing her straight, mussed, brown hair with pets she hoped were comforting. The girl's sobs stopped from the shock of the touch, only to come back doubly strong, falling to pieces into Aly.
"You're gonna be okay," Aly whispered to her, the girl's tears provoking sympathetic ones from her.
Henrietta observed this with a growing, boiling rage within her that served only to further steel her resolve.
This ends tonight, Henrietta, her face twisted in wrath as tears streaked down it, swore. No more. Not. One. More.
Mott, after fruitlessly launching icicles at these intruders that were luckily missing him, was on the back foot.
How could this have happened? He had planned perfectly for this arrival. The walls were surely closed in on this upstart brat who dared call herself "Queen"! How could she have torn through the defenses and through these elite guards he hired so easily?
As he pondered this, while stepping backward around a corner to launch another volley of icicles at the cloaked, rifle-toting intruders that were aiming for him, he tripped over something and fell backwards. It was luck for him as two shots rang out, flying over where he was and shattering one of the mansion's windows. He breathed the smallest sigh of relief as he looked to regard what he had fallen over, with his eyes going wide at what he beheld.
"Chelenne! My friend! No!" Mott desperately called out as he scrambled to look over his motionless friend. A wide hole in the forehead of his permanently panic-stricken face. With another through his chest.
Mott looked down on his own body, seeing he was now awash with his friend's blood. Panic gripped him, but he had no time to further contemplate this situation as he heard the boots of his pursuers growing ever louder. He rushed to his feet, sparing one mournful look to the body of his friend before sprinting from the scene, finding he was met with more intruders who leveled their rifles at him.
Mott's head whipped around for an exit, finding a hall he knew led to the ballroom.
And nowhere else.
Mott heard shots ring out and whiz past him. He had no choice. He turned to sprint down the hall to the ballroom, finding the door wide open and the surviving party guests huddled in terror inside.
The moment Mott was through the door, Henrietta heard it over her earpiece.
"That's the last of them. No more survivors in the rest of the mansion," a musketeer confirmed.
Henrietta smirked as she raised her scepter and whipped it at the ballroom door, slamming it shut behind Mott and causing the nobles inside to give various, terrified cries. She quickly tucked her scepter away, and walked towards them, her cloak still obscuring her form and visage to these nobles.
Once Henrietta had taken stock of the nobles before her, she realized almost every one was one of her court. The only exception, she noticed, was Cardinal Masarini, who, by his absence, proved to be one of the only loyal ones close to her.
"Cowards!" Henrietta wrathfully cried out in declaration to all the whimpering nobles before her.
The audible cowering quieted as attention was focused on this new figure shouting at them.
"Hypocrites!" Henrietta declared in a louder voice. "You take the name of revolution in vain! You usurp the will of the people for mere consolidation of your own power! I will not stand for this any longer!"
The aristocrats, at first, looked to her in confusion. A confusion that was soon growing into renewed, escalated terror.
"Do you know who we are?" Mott demanded, furious at this indignance.
"As a matter of fact," Henrietta began as she lowered her hood, revealing herself to the ballroom of aristocrats before her, "I do."
There was a wave of gasps and fearful murmurs among them as she revealed herself, which gave her no small sense of satisfaction. She smirked, while Mott's eye twitched in fearful fury.
"Foolish little girl," he growled with a tone meant to convey menace, only for it to be deflected by Henrietta's unbroken confidence.
"What did you think would happen? You would just walk in here and we'd fall on our knees and beg for mercy? No…" Mott gave a mocking laugh to her, which echoed through the otherwise relatively quiet room. When he had finished, he leaned over until he was basically face-to-face with her.
"You're merely a rabbit among wolves." Mott's threat was delivered with smirking lips, and in whispered threat. Not seeing a reaction on Henrietta's face, his smug expression turned to a frown as he cleared his throat.
"My honored guests!" Mott dramatically proclaimed to the room, "It is with a heavy heart I must inform you that I have heard of the Queen's passing…" the room experienced a wave of confused murmurs from the aristocrats within, "It was a sudden, tragic accident. She will be sorely missed. Let us all have a toast in her honor. To the late Queen He-!" his mocking speech was cut short by the crack of a shot ringing out, which was immediately followed by him choking on his own blood.
Henrietta looked up to the source of the shot, seeing Aly, smoking rifle in her hands, with a wide, satisfied grin on her face. Henrietta smirked at her before looking back to a struggling Mott.
The onlooking aristocrats gasped in horror as they saw a gaping hole in his neck, a fountain of blood pouring from it. His efforts to keep himself upright were sabotaged by Henrietta coming up behind him and turning the ailing noble to face her.
"Long live the Queen," Henrietta mocked as she pushed him over, his struggles ceasing before he hit the ground.
The crowd cried out in unified panic and tried to run towards the back of the room, raising what magical focuses they could to try and blow out the windows. Their attempts at escape were met with a volley of gunshots from them that mowed down at least a dozen of the aristocrats. Their panicked cries increased as they all cowered once more, frozen and trembling with fear.
Henrietta raised her hand to get their attention.
"All of you!" she declared, fruitlessly, as the din of panic overpowered her voice.
A sudden, loud bang occurred, as Agnes, standing on the upper level of this room, had fired her pistol into the ceiling.
"ORDER!" Agnes shouted, just as she did with the nobles at the theater.
The aristocrats looked up and saw they were completely surrounded by musketeers from above on all sides and cowered into each other's arms. Once again, Henrietta felt no small sense of satisfaction upon seeing this.
"All of you!" Henrietta shouted as she pointed her finger in accusation at them. "You are all traitors to Tristain! And what's worse… you have manipulated the hearts of the people within it! Staging a false revolution so you could change this country to a vision that was profitable to you and your interests!"
The Aristocrats did not respond to these accusations, choosing to remain whimpering.
"Look at you! Sending the poor and the desperate to fight your battles while you stand here and party!"
"Now who's the hypocrite?" one of the nobles bravely remarked.
Henrietta immediately marched to the source of the voice, finding it to be a middle aged man with a receding hairline of brown that she grabbed by his shirt.
"I fought side by side with these people in battle! I was there! Holding them in my arms while they died! Hearing them call out for their mothers while I watched the light drain from their eyes! And you… you were… HERE!" Henrietta, enraged, threw him down, gesturing to the opulent ballroom. "Safe and sound in your mansions with your parties and your servants! I am the one who was in the right to use the term 'hypocrite'! Not YOU!"
With the sound of impacted, wet flesh with a hint of crunching bone, Henrietta swiped the upstart aristocrat at his temple with her flash-drawn scepter, causing him to collapse, lifeless, to the floor. More screams and cries of fear began to erupt from the partygoers.
Henrietta reached into a pocket on her dress and produced a picture of Matilda she had been carrying with her since that fateful night she learned of her demise. She turned in a random direction, shoving it in an aristocrat's face.
"You! What's this woman's name?"
"What? How could I possibly-?" His desperate stammering was cut short as Henrietta, the moment she knew he would fail this test, gestured to Agnes.
A shot rang out, and the aristocrat crumpled with a hole in his head.
"You!" Henrietta shoved the picture into a middle aged aristocrat woman's face, "What's this woman's name?"
"Alexandra?" She guessed on the spot.
Another signal, another shot, and another dead noble.
"You!" Henrietta pointed to yet another male aristocrat as she marched to him, a crazed look in her eyes as she shoved the picture into his face, "What's this woman's name?!"
"WHAT DO YOU WANT US TO SA-?!" The aristocrat's bellowing was once more cut short as he met the fate of the other two nobles. The din of panic had once again taken over the room as Henrietta marched away from them, back to the entrance.
"Not ONE of you knew her! Not that ANY of you would be worthy to speak her name!" Henrietta was unsuccessfully fighting a flow of tears borne of rage and sorrow as she raised the picture before her. "Her name was Matilda! You used her pain just like you've used so many others' for your selfish ends!"
Not one of the aristocrats seemed to know what she was talking about, which only furthered her rage. After a moment, the rage turned to acceptance as she took a deep breath, and readied herself for what she came here to do.
"To you, she was just some nameless pawn you could sacrifice at will. To me… even in the brief time I knew her… She was a loyal soldier. Fast family to my friends," Henrietta's face fell as she said this, "I wish I had more time to know her…" She paused before the whimpering aristocrats, clenching her fists and steeling her countenance with renewed ferocity, "But now I won't get that chance. NONE of us will! BECAUSE OF YOU! You snuffed out her and so many others' lights because they may have made your lives only slightly uncomfortable!"
As she was not psionic, and too wrapped up in her own feelings to observe it, she could not tell that a wave of guilt had now gripped the cowering aristocrats before her.
"Well… It's about to get a whole lot more uncomfortable than you could have ever imagined."
With that final stinger, Henrietta turned to open the doors and leave.
The musketeers, their rifles still trained on the aristocrats, began making their way from the room as well. Once everyone but Agnes had left, she turned to face them, a familiar-looking cylindrical object inside in her hand.
"Sic semper fascistas," Agnes declared as she tossed the cylinder at them, and turned to leave.
An explosion just as the one that rocked the Queen's coronation parade was inflicted upon the aristocrats, leaving many immediately dead, and many more maimed and suffering. Their suffering would last for a while, as Agnes' musketeers were currently torching the mansion to trap them inside.
Once it was sufficiently ablaze, Agnes, Henrietta, Aly, Julien, and the rest of the musketeers stood outside, watching Chelenne's new mansion burn.
"Should we be worried about survivors?" Agnes asked the pensive Henrietta.
"No," Henrietta replied with plain confidence.
She turned to regard the only survivors that mattered. The girls, most plainly not even women, that were all shuddering and shivering with leftover horror at what they'd experienced. And the Musketeers and Julien caring for them, assuring them that they were safe now.
She turned back to the burning mansion, furrowing her brow with conviction at it.
"We're seizing their assets and giving them back to the people. Even if some did survive, their empires borne of luck did not." Henrietta turned away to begin leading the group back into the forest, sparing one more sympathetic look to the survivors.
One girl met her gaze with transparent, yet nearly disbelieving, gratitude.
Henrietta gave her an assuring smile and nod before she and her group walked into the forest to their hidden mounts to ride away from the inferno. With each one of them feeling at least some small measure of fulfillment in their deeds that night.