Conquest of Avalon

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck!

Florette raced across the cobblestones, blood pounding in her ears.

At this hour, the city was quiet. Even the distant roar of the party she’d left behind had long faded into the background. Lunette, the moon spirit, glowed brightly tonight, nearly full. A good thing too, since the lamps on the north side of the city were sparse and poorly-maintained. Perhaps one in eight was still lit at this hour, and its light was meager in turn.

Otherwise Florette probably would have broken an ankle sprinting down the hill and away from that horrid, interminable party.

Honestly, breaking something still wasn’t out of the question. She’d already fallen once, trying to climb the Great Temple wall without stopping to catch her breath. Stone walls were a thousand times easier to clamber up than the steep mountainsides had been, but she still needed the stamina to actually make it.

All for nothing, too, since Claude wasn’t even there. And if she couldn’t find him soon…

It didn’t even bear thinking about.

≋

Florette left Camille on that cliffside to ruminate. If the sun was kind, maybe the talk would even pierce her arrogant façade. She found herself walking away from the main thrust of the party, towards the well-built figure standing in the lee of an enormous tree.

“Are you alright?” Charlotte’s face was surprisingly soft. “It looked like you were fighting.”

“I’m fine.” Florette punctuated the response with a sigh. “It’s just— She sounds so worldly and smart for a while, and you forget she’s so horrid. And then you hear something that brings it all back… And she’s so blind to who she is! I’ve never seen someone with less self-awareness.”

“What about Sir Gerald Stewart?” Charlotte countered, which was just about impossible to refute. “After a few months with him, smart but horrible is sounding more and more appealing.”

“You’ve got me there,” Florette admitted. “I don’t know how you put up with him.”

“Because I have to.” She stretched her arms up above her head, sleeves falling back to reveal even more muscle on her arms. “I doubt it’s that different from why you serve Lady Carrine.”

Ugh, right. “It’s not usually like that for us though. Especially not at a party like this! We agreed beforehand.”

“I guess that’s why she lets you drink on the job.”

She doesn’t let me do anything; I don’t work for her. But irritatingly, Florette had to admit that that being her guard was legitimately the most plausible explanation, and would have to continue with it for the good of the ruse. “It’s a party,” she said, instead of correcting her. “Besides, she can handle herself better than almost anyone. I once saw her—” Duel Lumière?

Idiot.

The near-mistake sent a jolt of energy through her, shaking away some of the alcohol’s lethargy. She hiccuped to hide the interruption. “I once saw her hold her own against the Fox King himself. Still lost, but she made him fight for it.”

Charlotte blinked. “The Fox-King fought his subjects?”

Florette snorted. “Sparring, I mean. The man practically lived with a sword in his hand.” Even hacking blindly through the smoke after the duel, he must have slain a dozen of Lumière’s sages. “He was surprisingly approachable, actually.”

“That sounds nice.” Charlotte rubbed the back of her neck. “I always kind of wondered. My parents said that King Romain would always throw these enormous feasts on the beach, bread and wine as far as the eye could see. But he was surrounded by his courtiers. Further out, nobles and gentry, then the errant knights and mercenaries… Hard to imagine someone like me meeting the Fox-King in person.”

Her parents are from here? “Why do you do it then?”

“Um, what?”

Florette rubbed her eyes. “Sorry, it connected in my head. If your family is from Malin, why would you serve the Guardians? Especially if you’re stuck cleaning up after that idiot the entire time?”

Charlotte took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling with the movement of the air. “What else is there? My brother will inherit the farm when my parents die.”

“But you’re working for Avalon!”

She sighed. “Everyone here is, one way or another. Even the Acolytes, let alone regular people. At least this way I’m not mangling my hands in a factory or blackening my lungs in a mine. Or darkening my soul spreading their propaganda at a school.”

Florette frowned.

“It’s not all like that, either. The Guardians may be Avalon’s, but a lot of what we do really is for everyone. Right now we’re tracking down someone who killed a dozen people bombing the harbor. Three of them were children… Never even found out who they were. They’re buried unmarked in Fuite Gardens.” She inhaled deep. ”That’s unforgivable no matter what, and they need to be stopped.

Florette nodded.

“That’s not even the only one. Take the Railyard Robber, for example.”

“The what?”

“You forgot already?” She shook her head sadly. “The one who stole those plans from Director Thorley. They climbed through the roof, remember?”

“Right.” Florette sucked in air through her teeth. “That sounds vaguely familiar. I don’t see how it’s comparable to mass murder though.”

She nodded. “Not nearly on the same level as the harbor bomber or anything, and if I’m honest with you, I’m not losing sleep over a few pilfered papers, but they killed two people. Disappeared without a trace.”

Disappeared? Florette blinked, trying to imagine what she was talking about. “Oh,” she realized. “The ones with the wagon. Gary was telling me about that,” she added for cover. They weren’t dead though, they’d just done the smart thing and taken the money and run. Nothing to lose sleep over.

“Of course he was.” She sighed lightly. “You know, I was the one who figured that out. He didn’t even want to bother interviewing the workers at all! Somehow even the Director didn’t realize that two people working for him had vanished into thin air.”

“A lot of people just don’t think about it, not when where they are in life means they don’t have to.” They might even come to the absurd conclusion that marching people into the ocean to drown didn’t constitute killing them.

“It’s distressingly common,” Charlotte agreed. “My guess is that this robber did the same thing with Thorley’s assistant. He could barely even speak when I found him, after what the Forresters did to him. And then he lost his livelihood too.” She frowned. “All that just to prove he wasn’t involved. It’s absurd.”

“They…” Florette gulped. “They tortured him?”

“And then some.” She clicked her tongue. “Got to the point that he was confessing to anything he could think of just to make it stop: smuggling, conspiring to rebel, murder, the railyard robbery, even kidnapping Prince Luce.”

“As if one person could manage even half of that.”

“Exactly. The Forresters were smart enough to know he was just saying anything to make it stop. They even let him go afterwards. But then why do it at all?”

Florette clenched her fists. “Even on a pragmatic level, it’s moronic. But when you add the injustice…”

“Yeah…” Charlotte stepped closer, her hair catching the moonlight. “If I can move up in rank, maybe it’s the kind of thing I can do something about. Work with what’s there if it can’t be stopped, you know?”

“But getting there means putting up with Sir Prick.”

She laughed, nodding in agreement.

I don’t know whether you’re adorably naïve or scarily ruthless. It wasn’t excusable, not really. And her plan would never work but… Florette found it harder to fault her than she expected to. She’s not carrying the banner, just trying to make her way through this fucked-up world.

But she was doing it by becoming part of the most fucked-up parts of it.

“It already got me facetime with Captain Whitbey, and if we can catch this Railyard Robber, I ought to shoot up the ladder. It’s my best chance, anyway…” She looked to the side, holding one arm with the other behind her back. “Lord Perimont gave us one day to connect the crime to Clochaîne. If Lady Carrine doesn’t come through helping find Claude tomorrow, I’ll probably be the next one the Forresters drag down for interrogation.”

She won’t, and I can’t let you find Claude either. “Fuck.”

“Yeah. If I fail, my life as I know it is over. But Perimont is nothing if not unforgiving; it might be even more final than that.” She stepped even closer, to the point that Florette could feel her breath on her lips. “This might be my last night on this earth.”

Because of me…

There were lines that shouldn’t be crossed, no matter the temptation.

How much could one night hurt, though?

Florette pounded her fist against the side of her leg, speaking through grit teeth. “I’m not sure if this is a good idea.”

“Come on. I’ve seen the way you were looking at me. You know you want to.” Her hand reached up and touched the side of her face. “What’s the harm?”

“I—” She turned her head aside. “I can’t. I’m sorry. Not now.”

Florette stepped away, resisting the urge to hit herself in the face. “Maybe in a few days.” If you’re still alive.

She expected Charlotte to look sad, or disappointed, but instead her eyes were narrowed. “That’s a nice earring you have,” she spoke slowly. “A blue stone, and only the one. I’ve heard that’s a new fashion, but they usually come in a set. Do you mind if I ask where you got it?”

Did I break her brain?

“Uh…” Can’t exactly say I stole it from the Prince. “I found it. On the beach.” She almost slapped herself afterwards. Brilliant lie, Florette. Might as well have said it fell off the back of a wagon.

“You did?” She folded her arms. “You know, Simon Perimont found a single blue earring on the beach too, right out in the open, mere hours after the harbor bombing. He gave me a description, and it sounded exactly like the one you’re wearing now.”

“That’s a… strange coincidence…”

Charlotte frowned. “We scoured the beach for weeks without finding its opposite, practically looked under every grain of sand. I even took another look once Gary told me about the first one. And you didn’t even show up until long after the bombing occurred. I’m surprised you managed to find what scores of Guardians missed, especially by mere happenstance.”

“I didn’t,” she said a touch too quickly. Is she trying to pin the bombing on me now? That was an insane level of pettiness over a simple rejection. And one for her own good, too. “When I said I found it on the beach, I meant in Guerron, long before I came here. I’m absolutely positive that one has nothing to do with the other.”

“You are?” Charlotte tilted her head back, looking deep in thought. “Because the ship with the explosives’ last port of call before getting here was Guerron. A matched set, separated by miles of water. I’d guess that one took a ride on the ship, while the other didn’t. Could even be the bomber, leaving one by accident.”

“That’s a massive leap in logic! There’s a million reasons it might have happened even if they are a pair, and even that’s not a given. You can’t jump to conclusions like that! Think!”

“Sure. Of course. It’s just a hunch, and I can’t prove anything yet, but…” Her head tilted. “Why are you being so weird about this?”

Should have just told her it was Camille’s. She’s supposed to be dead anyway, who would care if she’d also done a bit of bombing?

“Because it sounds like you’re acusing me of bombing the harbor!”

Charlotte blinked. “Oh fuck, I bet it does.” She exhaled sharply. “Wow, I am really sorry about that!”

“You should be! Nearly gave me a fucking heart attack.” Florette reached up to her ear and removed the offending jewelry. “Take it.” She tossed the earring to Charlotte, who impressively caught it one-handed. “Dunno if it’ll really help, but fuck whoever bombed that harbor.” Even if they were doing it for the right reasons, Avalon barely even suffered for it and two dozen people are dead. Children… “They deserve whatever you’ve got coming for them.”

“Really?” Her eyes widened, grey-blue in the moonlight. “Thanks! I’ll be sure to give it back once I’m done with it.”

Hopefully it would buy Charlotte some reprieve too, since she definitely wouldn’t be catching the Railyard Robber or getting her hands on Claude.

Although actually, if Charlotte’s hunch were right, that would mean that Prince Luce was behind the bombing. That… really didn’t fit what she’d seen of him. Florette wouldn’t put it past Avalon to have one of their own do it as a pretext for war, but Luce would be the absolute last person to. No one is that good an actor.

“And also,” Charlotte added. “About Lady Carrine helping me find Claude…”

“I’m sworn to keep my lady’s secrets.” Finally this ruse is proving useful. “She promised to, and I’ll only leave it at that.”

“Of course. Of course. But, you know, if she doesn’t come through for whatever reason… I know it’s not your fault.” She turned her head to the path down the hill, shaded in darkness by the overgrown trees surrounding it. “I should probably go work on this.”

“It’s after midnight.”

Charlotte shrugged. “Sleep is for people who won’t be executed for fucking up in a matter of days. And some strange hunch tells me that I might need another way to get to Claude or Clochaîne.”

Or give up entirely once you catch someone else, with any luck. “What about Sir Gerald?”

“Him?” She scoffed, waving her hand dismissively. “He won’t even wake up until the afternoon, probably in Lady Mary’s bed. I won’t be missed.”

Florette couldn’t help but smile at that, perhaps wider than was advisable. “Good hunting.”

The last effects of the alcohol faded away as Florette watched Charlotte leave, briskly marching back into the city.

Finally, I can take a second and catch my breath. Simon and Whitbey had given them valuable information. A massive shipment of weapons could only practically be brought to the city two ways, and one of them was still a pile of splinters.

It was still possible that they would try to get them through the harbor on rowboats, ferrying everything individually. That was what she and Eloise had done, though it had apparently taken far longer and demanded far more people to move the same amount of cargo.

But they hadn’t had any choice about that. Everything was already aboard the ship, and other avenues were closed to a group of pirates masquerading as a princely escort.

A Territorial Governor had a considerably better option, conveniently operational and dedicated to governmental and military use only.

And unlike a ship, it could be robbed by land.

All she needed to do was find out the schedule and formulate a proper plan to carry it out, gather up a crew again, and—

“Well, isn’t that cute? You finally got over Eloise.”

Florette whirled around to face the voice. “Ysengrin.”

He smiled wolfishly. “Florette. Or is it Celine now?”

“Celine is better. We’re far enough that no one should overhear anything, but it's always good to be safe.”

“Is it?” Yse sighed. “Because when you told me you were having a party, you never mentioned that you were co-hosting it with an Acolyte.”

Oh, what the fuck is it now? “I gave you a guest list, Yse. You said you didn’t want to come.”

“Lady Carrine wasn’t on the list.”

“Yeah, she’s not a guest.” Florette waved her hands. “Duh.”

Ysengrin’s one visible eye looked entirely unamused. “Jacques told us not to get mixed up with Acolytes. He was incredibly clear about it. Did you forget?”

Honestly, yeah. Discovering Camille had kind of taken priority. She wasn’t really an Acolyte anyway. “So now he wants me to come into his cave to get yelled at?” She sighed. “Alright, fine. I don’t really work for him, but I guess it’s harmless enough. I just need to get Claude out of town first.”

“Oh, Florette…” He rubbed the back of his neck. “That’s exactly the problem.”

“It’s fine. Carrine’s leading the investigators down the garden path tomorrow while I get him out of the way. Going to give him most of the railyard plans' money too, seems only fair. He’s definitely the one that’s suffered the most for it. And I’m about to have something better anyway.”

“Florette—”

“Oh come on, Yse, it’s just money. But I guess it is yours; you don’t have to kick in if you don’t want to. But I think it’s the right thing to do. We aren’t the ones who have to skip town because of that job.”

Ysengrin pounded his fist against the tree next to him. “Jacques knows about Claude, alright? He found out at a meeting with Simon Perimont this afternoon. It came up in conversation because of your party.”

Florette blinked. “Ok. I mean, that’s not how I would have played it, but if anything maybe this helps. Jacques probably has better connections to help him on the run than we do alone. Could get him a cushier set-up somewhere. Maybe Porte Lumière? He’s got people there, right?”

“He does…” Ysengrin inhaled sharply. “But he knows that Claude is under investigation now. Thanks to the railyard heist and its aftermath, Claude knows enough to connect Jacques to the crime.” Was that a tear in his eye? “He’s never going to leave the city. And the investigators are never going to find him.”

“Oh… Oh fuck!” Florette leapt forward and grabbed him by the collar. “Why did you take so long to say that? We have to go, now. Shit, I thought we just had to beat Charlotte to him, had a day for that, but... Fuck! There’s no time to waste!”

“I didn’t open with it because there’s nothing to be done, alright? It’s Jacques. If he wants him dead, he will be.” He lifted his eyepatch to wipe his face with the back of his hands. “This is what has to happen. He could put both of us in too, Florette. And going against Jacques? We might as well just dig another two graves.”

Florette shoved him back against the tree. “I liked you better when I thought you had a spine.”

“Wait—”

She couldn’t hear the rest of what he had to say, because she was already running.

≋

He wasn’t in his spot in the north end; he wasn’t in the tunnels; he wasn’t at the Great Temple, nor any of the others where she’d ever known him to be.

Maybe he left town already. Maybe he knew the danger he was in.

It didn’t seem very likely though. She and Jacques Clochaîne both had ways to know that there was a hunt for him ahead of time; Claude would have had no idea. And every second thinking about it only ran out his clock further.

A final, mad idea had come to her, but it was so far away from everything else. If I’m wrong…

But there had been no alternatives left. Soon, the sun would be rising, and then it would be all the harder for him to hide, all the more likely Clochaîne could find him first.

If he wasn’t here…

The tide was low enough that the ruined Temple of Levian was actually above the waterline. The doors had long since been stolen, allowing Florette to creep inside without any need to climb up.

Camille had said that most of the passageways and structures had collapsed, and half the time it was occupied by nasty children, but it was late enough that even they seemed to be gone, litter and detritus the only sign that they were here.

And there, in the center of the square—

“Claude!” Florette ran up and hugged him close. “You’re alive!”

“Uh, yeah.” The patch where his streak of hair had been cut out had finally grown back in, showing a messy blonde mop that at least looked complete. “What a weird way to greet someone.”

“Not when the whole city’s looking for you! We have to get you out of town before the guardians find you, or worse, Jacques Clochaîne. I brought some money for you. I’m sorry it’s not more, but I needed to find you before they did.”

“Whoa whoa, what?”

“What on earth are you even doing here anyway?”

“You don’t know?” Claude blinked. “I got a letter from an old friend, about a week ago. Said to meet here tonight. Seeing you here, I figured you got one too.”

“I didn’t.” Florette looked past Claude, deeper into the temple. And there—

“Hey, killer.” Eloise smiled. “Did you miss me?”