by Rob J. Hayes
Chapter 18 – The King’s Peace
As the social highlight of the Autumn season, the Sassaille Independence Ball was held on the King’s own private estate. Once a year the largest mansion in the city of Rares was opened to the rich and privileged and it was a mansion like no other on a night like no other.
Adeline kept a tight grip on her husband as they stepped down from the carriage. Bastien was already staring into the sky with all the fascination and wonder of a child. Adeline had to admit the spectacle was quite amazing but they had more important issues and correct etiquette was one of them.
“How do they get the lights to shine like that, I wonder?” Bastien said with his eyes pointed firmly upwards.
Three airships, each bearing the names and devices of the Royal Navy, floated almost static a couple of hundred feet above the King’s estate. Each of the airships had a complement of white alchemical lights so bright it was almost painful to look upon. The lights were all pointed towards the centre of the estate, the King’s mansion, and the entire area was bathed in a soft white glow despite the general darkness.
Bastien saw only the marvel, the spectacle, but Adeline saw past it. The Royal Navy were out in force on this night and they were not the only ones. She recognised the familiar uniforms of the Royal Guard also and more rifles than she cared to count. It was perhaps not the best of nights for their planned performance but it was also the only night for it.
She gripped Bastien’s arm tightly so that the nails pinched the skin under his clothing. Not enough to injure him but certainly enough to shock him from his stupor. “Come along, husband. No sense standing around out here in the dark. We should attempt to find our friends.”
Bastien nodded mutely and began to walk towards the main entrance way to the manor with Adeline on his arm. She couldn’t help but notice he kept glancing upwards towards the airships though.
The mansion made Adeline feel small and insignificant in its gargantuan size and grandeur. Huge marble pillars rose either side of the door to support a porch longer than the largest room in the Bonvillain estate. On either side of the porch, between the pillars, was a delicate mural carved into another slab of marble that also contrived to be some sort of water feature. Adeline could have been mistaken but the artwork seemed to depict the civil war that led to Sassaille’s secession from Arkland and subsequent founding as an independent Kingdom. It was a fitting depiction given the subject of the evening’s function.
“Good evening,” said a lady standing at the doorway. She was young and pretty and wore a dress that was serviceable but indicated she was not a guest. In front of her was a pedestal with a small book upon it and a pen. “May I ask your names?”
Adeline was not surprised. An event such as the Independence Ball no doubt had many people wishing to attend. It was true that some of the richer merchants secured invites, usually by way of greasing the correct wheels, but it was also true that those without invites occasionally attempted entry.
“Baron and Baroness Bonvillain,” Bastien said in a voice all steel and gunpowder. The woman at the pedestal did not look subdued. She calmly opened the book and flicked through a couple of pages. Adeline noticed that two soldiers stood to attention just inside the front door, almost out of sight but also noticeably visible, as were their rifles.
The woman made a mark in the book with the pen and then smiled at them both. “Please go right ahead.” She made a slight curtsy and waved her arm towards the doorway.
Adeline smiled back, unsure of the woman’s station and therefore unsure of how to treat her. Bastien, on the other hand, turned his head aside and walked in, leading Adeline by her arm.
No more than two paces inside and a servant began hurrying past them carrying an empty tray. “You there,” Bastien stopped the man with an iron glare. “We would like some drinks. Brandy for me and a glass of spiced wine for the Baroness.”
The servant sketched a low bow, somehow contriving to keep his tray perfectly level, and was away without asking where to find the Baron and Baroness upon his return. In truth Adeline would not have been able to answer as she had no idea where they should be. The entire situation was very much a mystery to her as there didn’t appear to be anyone around to guide them to the great hall where she presumed most of the guests would congregate.
“Now what?” she whispered in Bastien’s ear.
“Act natural,” he whispered back. “As long as we look like we know what we’re doing nobody will question us.”
A high pitched giggle floated out from a room somewhere to their left but it was impossible to tell which one. The entrance hall was vast, well-lit, well-connected to a seemingly endless number of rooms, and completely and utterly empty of anyone save the Bonvillains. Adeline could hear music; light and mellow and possibly an orchestral piece played upon a phonograph, it echoed throughout the mansion in an eerie fashion.
“Ho there, Bonvillains,” said the Marquis de Roe from behind. “You’re here early.”
Bastien turned and extended his hand for the Marquis to shake vigorously. “Actually, Joudain, I believe we’re here on time and you to be the early one.”
“Well I hate to miss a moment of these things,” the Marquis continued. “You never know what might happen before you get here. Last year Duc Darque was discovered unconscious in a bathroom with a goat. A goat!”
“How in the Creator did he get it in?” Bastien asked incredulous.
“Bleats me,” the Marquis said with a thunderous laugh. “Although security was less… secure last year. But where are our manners? There are women present. Baroness Adeline, you are a picture of beauty in that dress.” The Marquis de Roe gave Adeline a wink and took her hand, giving it the slightest of kisses. Bastien repaid the favour to Vienne de Roe. Adeline took a moment to greet Vienne also but the two had never managed to get close in quite the same way that Bastien and the Marquis had.
“So, Gaston?” Bastien asked.
“Oh, he won’t be here yet,” the Marquis said with a knowing wink. “He has to arrive late enough to be proper for his station but early enough to seem like he doesn’t care. It’s terrible hard work being our Gaston Lavouré. Come, let us go find some conversations to drop eves upon.”
Joudain de Roe was well known to be a gossip monger and an unrepentant one at that. Within bare minutes he had led them all through two different sitting rooms, making rushed greetings and promises to catch up later to many of the persons occupying said rooms, and eventually stopped in a grand study almost as large as the Bonvillains’ entrance hall. The room was lit and warmed by a fire place that would have dwarfed even the largest of men and was decorated with the pelts and stuffed heads of various dead animals including at least two that Adeline did not have names for.
As they walked Vienne de Roe was happy to explain to Adeline that the Independence Ball held here every year was a little different to most social functions. Rather than congregating in a large hall which would serve as dance floor, buffet, study and bar; the entire mansion was open to its guests for this one night of the year. Adeline commented that it was an extraordinary feat of trust by the King but Vienne disagreed as those who were invited were only the nobility of Sassaille and were therefore as close to friends as the King would ever truly have. It was simply unconscionable that anyone would act in any way to the detriment of the King.
Adeline and Vienne kept up a steady stream of conversation. They did not truly have much to talk about so instead passed the time by talking about others. It dawned on Adeline that the Marquise was quite timid and transparent, she seemed to live much of, if not all of, her life through her husband and had very little in terms of personal opinion.
By comparison the Marquis de Roe was as different from his wife as water from ice. He was loud and opinionated and full of mirth and good nature. “That one over there,” said the Marquis indicating to a tall, bald man standing by the stuffed head of a confused-looking rhinoceros. “His name is Baron Pierre de Carriellaine
.”
“I do believe I have heard that name in passing,” said Bastien.
Joudain de Roe grinned and leaned forward conspiratorially. “You will notice he is very much alone in the sense of not having a woman upon his arm.” The Marquis gave a wink to Adeline. “Recently a widower and his wife died of natural but suspicious circumstances.”
Adeline wasn’t entirely certain how someone could die of both natural and suspicious circumstances but she didn’t see any sense in arguing with Joudain over the matter.
“Now de Carriellaine is long suspected to have… shady contacts, many within the criminal element of the city. It is, some say, how he has managed to amass his substantial fortune.” Joudain paused and looked towards the Baron de Carriellaine. “It is not beyond the realm of belief that he could have had his wife…”
“Joudain,” Vienne de Roe said in the tone of rebuke. It was possibly the first time the woman had ever disagreed with her husband.
“Perhaps we should move on to a brighter subject,” Bastien suggested. “I have heard an interesting rumour regarding the Queen.”
A shadow passed across Joudain’s face but he recovered quickly. Adeline turned to find Vienne paying particular attention to the new topic of conversation.
“Now I do not know the exact details of the situation,” Bastien continued. “I am unfortunately not quite as savvy in the art of sniffing out the truth as you, Joudain, but I hear she will not be attending the ball tonight.”
Joudain frowned and Vienne looked away pointedly. Adeline decided this was perhaps a rumour that they had not heard.
“One source told me she has taken ill and another that she has…” Bastien lowered his voice to the barest whisper. “Another source has told me she might have miscarried.”
Vienne let out a short gasp but was silenced by a glare from her husband.
“I liked the other rumour more, Bastien,” Adeline put in. “The one with the fire.”
Bastien chuckled. “Oh yes. One source, I’m afraid this one is wildly unreliable, told me that the baby was born two nights ago…”
“Two months early?” Vienne asked shocked.
“Indeed,” Bastien agreed. “And that the fire, you know the fire from two nights ago?”
“In the royal palace?” Joudain asked. “I had heard it was a cook spilled some oil.”
Bastien shrugged. “Some say it was the baby. Born with latent Elemental powers or some such. Nonsense really. But all my sources do agree on one thing.” Bastien paused to let the moment sink in, the oldest storyteller trick in the book. “The Queen is no longer in the city.”
Joudain fixed Bastien with an uncharacteristically intense stair. “Gaston will be very interested in that particular rumour, Bastien. Well done.” The Marquis’ face burst into a broad smile. “But for now I fear we’ll hear nothing new from de Carriellaine tonight. Let us move off in search of greener pastures.”
As the evening wore on and threatened to darken into full night the Bonvillains and de Roes toured the King’s mansion and greeted all those they knew and many they did not. Adeline made certain to drink sparingly but gave the appearance of the opposite and Bastien, his inability to hold his liquor already well-established in the eyes of the noble community, was drinking even less, lest his drunken antics offend their gracious host. Adeline picked at a selection of foods carried around on trays by servants, one pastry in particular with little blue fruits embedded within it was devilishly moreish to the point where Adeline had to stop herself from eating any more. She was guiltily rather proud of her trim figure and delicacies such as those would threaten to undo all her hard work attaining it.
About two hours into the evening Duc Gaston Lavouré appeared. He was, as ever, alone despite his recent late night affair with an unknown female partner. Many of the nobility these days pronounced Gaston as a life-long bachelor and some others speculated on his male friendships. The Duc’s hair was a tangled mess that verged on unacceptable and his pale green suit was creased in multiple places, his right hand was stained with tobacco and the smell of stale smoke followed him everywhere. Adeline found it hard to believe Gaston was the mastermind behind anything, let alone a plot to wrestle control of the Kingdom back to the nobility.
“Has anyone seen Thibault?” Gaston asked after a brief round of polite welcomes.
“I caught brief sight of him earlier,” Bastien said with a frown. “He looked none too pleased at me and stormed away before I could call him over.”
Gaston let out a weary sigh. “I wouldn’t worry too much on it, he’s been in a terrible mood since yesterday. His sister has taken ill with kurrent fever. Did you happen to see if the Comte or Comtesse were with him?”
Bastien shook his head and the Duc dropped the subject.
The conversations continued as did their tour of the mansion, it seemed Joudain was determined to visit every room in the estate. They talked about rumours surrounding the aristocracy, the war effort across the Brimstone Seas or ‘bringing civilisation to the savages’ as it was notably called, speculation regarding the royal child, and Vienne even brought up matters of faith. It was rare these days to find learned people who truly believed in the Creator, the Maker and the Ruiner and yet most people still spoke the latter’s name softly or not at all.
It was late on in the evening and word of King Félix Sassaille’s appearance had just started to circulate when Bastien’s altercation took place. Adeline noticed Marquis Portho and his wife consulting quietly with many a pointed finger their way. A few moments later the Marquis stormed over with a furious expression.
“How dare you, Baron?” Marquis Brice Portho exclaimed loudly spitting the title with unconcealed rage.
They were standing in a busy room, it appeared to be a sitting room with a small stage at one end for plays or musicians, and the general hubbub of voices quickly silenced as all eyes turned to the raised voice.
Bastien made a show of pushing back his long coat, revealing the pistol holstered at his side more clearly, an act that only seemed to darken the expression on the Marquis’ face. “I don’t believe we’ve met…” Bastien said letting the question hang.
“Marquis Portho,” Joudain said stepping forwards and speaking quietly. “Might be the Marquis has had a little too much to…”
“Back off, de Roe,” Portho spat before turning back to Bastien. “How dare you come here with a weapon?”
Bastien kept his cool, calm demeanour in the face of Portho’s rage. He had known this was coming and he had practised for it. After tonight there would be no doubt that Bastien Bonvillain carried a pistol everywhere he went and there would be no argument after the fact. Adeline looked over towards the Marquise. Jennifer was watching with a concerned look on her face, just as she had planned.
Bastien opened his mouth but was cut off before he could speak. “Marquis Portho has a point, Bonvillain.”
“Thibault?” Bastien asked.
“Vicomte la Fien to you,” Thibault corrected Bastien in his cold-as-ice voice. “And you would bring a weapon before the King?”
This was most certainly not a part of the plan. Isabel forced herself to calm and trusted in Jacques ability to improvise his way out of the situation. To his credit he kept the mask of Bastien Bonvillain held firmly in place.
“Thibault…” Duc Lavouré started in a commanding voice Adeline had never heard from him before.
“No, Gaston,” Thibault stated. “I will save us all from this Bonvillain mess you’ve created.”
Adeline could only stand by and watch helplessly, as forgotten as Vienne de Roe, as events unfurled with Bastien in the centre.
“What is this about, Vicomte?” Bastien asked placing as much venom in the title as Thibault had before.
The hubbub of voices had returned as people gathered around whispering to each other and more and more flocked into the room to watch as word of the altercation spread. Embarrassing antics may have been a regular occurrence at these events but fights be
tween noble folk definitely were not.
Thibault la Fien leaned in close to Bastien and whispered something, Adeline was not close enough to hear what was said but she saw her husband’s face turn grave and hard, the muscles of his jaw clenching.
“I challenge you to a duel, Baron Bastien Bonvillain,” Thibault said loudly enough for everyone in the room, and possibly the next room, to hear. “Unless of course you would like your wife to fight your battles for you again.” This earned a scattering of laughter directed at Bastien.
“Name the time and the place.”
“Here and now.”
“You would disturb the King’s peace?” Bastien asked and Isabel could hear the desperation in Jacques’ voice even if nobody else could. Fighting in a duel was likely to end in his death or at the very least exposing himself as a fraud.
Thibault didn’t smile, his face did not betray any emotion but his voice was full of smugness. “I believe I know the King better than you, Bonvillain. He very much enjoys a good duel and will be more than happy to watch me kill you.”
Isabel let out a small sigh. There was only way out of the situation now.
“Then I accept.”
She looked up at Jacques, aghast. That was not it.
Chapter 19 – Thunder and Lightning
That Jacques had managed to maintain the façade of Bastien Bonvillain was by no means a miracle. It was, in fact, an involuntary response to mind-bending, bowel-loosening fear and it was only the bravado of the Baron’s mask that was keeping him from jumping out of the nearest window. He couldn’t fight a duel; he barely knew which part of the pistol to hold.
Thibault was gone already, moved away through the crowd with the first smile Bastien had ever seen him wear. People crowded in around him, chattering in excited voices. Joudain was close by looking caught between concerned and angry but Bastien did not know why. Gaston was conspicuous in his absence, perhaps trying to convince Thibault to stop this madness before it got out of hand.
