by Rob J. Hayes
Bastien stumbled a step to his right and went down onto one knee. Slowly he looked down to see how bad the wound was and prepared himself to give the death scene to end all death scenes.
There was no blood, no wound at all. He was completely intact.
With a cough to hide his embarrassment Bastien pushed himself back to his feet and drew up to his full height. The crowd burst into cheers, jeers and excited commentary and many coins began exchanging hands.
At times such as this Baron Bastien Bonvillain might be detached and stoic but Jacques Revou was not and he felt like rubbing it in. He crossed the distance to where Thibault was lying on the ground, his parents and Duc Lavouré tending to him.
“What do you say, Thibault,” Bastien said with a smug sneer, “fancy going for best of three?”
Chapter 20 – High-Flyers
Isabel was yet to say a word. All the way home Jacques had babbled about his victory over Thibault la Fien. Isabel must have heard over a hundred times about how he didn’t know how he had done it and how it was ‘all in the reflexes’. Her sullen silence apparently did nothing to dampen Jacques mood, in fact he had not yet noticed her complete lack of response.
“I suppose it was instinctive,” Jacques said as they walked up the central staircase in the Bonvillain mansion. “I guess I just… felt where to aim.”
Isabel turned left on the landing towards the Baroness’ rooms, Jacques followed her. “Your rooms are the other way,” she said coldly without stopping or even turning to look at him.
“Well yes,” Jacques agreed. “But I thought we might…”
“No.” It was a cold, hard refusal but Isabel did not feel like company tonight, especially not Jacques’ company.
“What’s wrong?” he asked and judging by his crestfallen voice he had finally realised she was not pleased.
“More importantly,” came Amaury’s voice from the direction of the Baron’s rooms, “the Seigneur doesn’t care what’s wrong. In here, both of you. Now!” The tone Amaury used left Isabel in no doubt it wasn’t a request, neither was it an order but more like to a commandment.
Isabel let Jacques lead the way and followed staring silent daggers at his back. That he didn’t realise she was doing it only served to fuel her anger and she felt her heat rising by the moment.
The Seigneur was waiting for them inside the Baron’s personal study. He was sitting behind the hard wood desk smoking his pipe and looking over a variety of papers. Franseza perched on the edge of the desk swinging her legs back and forth and trimming her nails with a knife. Amaury stood by the door and closed it behind them with a solid thump before taking a menacing position in front of said door. Judging by the collective expressions worn by the Seigneur and his employees Isabel could only assume none of them were best pleased. Which put Jacques firmly as the odd one out in the room.
“So a duel,” Seigneur Daron said after a long period of poignant silence. “With one of the very men you are meant to be seducing into friendship.”
“It could have been worse,” Jacques pointed out with a grin. “I could have killed him.”
Isabel snorted. “You could have been killed!”
“But I wasn’t,” he said.
“But you could have been, you bloody fool!” She felt hot tears welling up in her eyes and blinked them away furiously. “One of these days maybe you’ll learn to think about somebody other than yourself.” Unable to look at him a moment longer Isabel turned away only to find Amaury giving her a disgustingly sympathetic look. She snorted at the man and stormed away into the corner of the room. It was about the closest thing to privacy she was likely to get in the current situation and, while it wasn’t ideal, it would have to do for the time being because she knew full well if she had to look at either of the two men for a moment longer she would shoot them both and the derringer she had strapped to her thigh held just the right number of bullets for the occasion.
The heavy silence held the room in thrall for just short of forever. “So a duel,” Seigneur Daron repeated as though Isabel’s outburst hadn’t happened.
“The man was trying to prove I’m a fraud,” Jacques said loudly followed by a thud that Isabel guessed was him slumping into a chair.
“You are,” said Amaury.
“And you thought,” the Seigneur rasped, “that duelling him would be the best way to prove otherwise?”
“I won didn’t I?” Jacques said in a sulky voice.
“Hmmm, quite how is a mystery to me. Amaury tells me you were barely competent enough with a pistol not to shoot yourself.”
Franseza let out a sharp laugh. “You might be amazed what a man can do when his life is on the line. Even our little pacifist here discovers he can kill a man.”
“I didn’t kill anyone,” Jacques protested.
“Doesn’t mean you weren’t aiming to,” Franseza continued.
Isabel heard Jacques grumble something but she couldn’t make out the words. Feeling as though she had control of her emotions again she turned back to face the group with cold blue stone for eyes and a steel girder for a backbone. Amaury was still watching her with puppy dog eyes while Franseza and Jacques were glaring at each other. Seigneur Daron seemed content to sit and watch the whole affair.
“Why are you here?” Isabel asked their employer. “I thought it was too dangerous you coming here.”
The Seigneur looked at her with lazy eyes. “Trim gave all the staff the night off. Yes I’m well aware you know he works for me and yes he has been telling me everything you two have been up to.”
“I never imagined otherwise,” Jacques said bitterly.
The Seigneur stared at Jacques until he looked away. “Please do try not to get into any more duels, Monsieur Revou. Now what have you learned?”
“That everybody here would have preferred I had lost the duel,” Jacques said sulkily.
“I know I would,” agreed Amaury to a simpering false smile from Jacques.
“Lavouré and his people are using us just as surely as you are,” Isabel interjected. “Whatever it is they are planning to do they intend for the Bonvillains to take the fall.”
“You know this for certain?” the Seigneur asked his lazy gaze replaced by an all too intense one.
“I overheard the Duc talking about it,” Jacques said. “Wait. His liaison…”
“The woman?” Isabel asked before remembering she was still upset with Jacques.
“Quite. I’ve finally recognised her voice. The very same voice belonging to the woman who approached me after the duel and thanked me for not killing her son.”
“Comtesse Hélène la Fien and Duc Lavouré liaised?” the Seigneur asked sceptically.
Jacques nodded emphatically. “All over the lawn.”
“What kind of liaison was it?” Franseza asked.
“The fun kind,” Jacques replied with a smile. “At least for the Comtesse and Duc, I presume. I personally found it all rather distasteful given the location chosen for their seedy encounter.”
“Do you think the Comte knows?” asked Amaury.
“I doubt Duc Lavouré would still be able to walk if he did,” the Seigneur growled. “The Comte is not the type of man, I believe, who would take being cuckolded lightly and he could likely break the Duc in two.”
“Do we think Thibault knows?” asked Isabel
“Or Joudain?” said Jacques.
“Pointless speculation,” the Seigneur waved the questions away. “The information may, however, be useful in driving a wedge between our enemies. I will look into it further. What else have you for me?”
“Baron Hees may be in on the conspiracy also,” Isabel offered.
“Really?” Jacques asked.
Isabel ignored him.
“What makes you think so?” the Seigneur asked.
“I noticed him conversing rather intensely with Thibault shortly before the Vicomte almost killed Jacques.”
“I was never in any real danger,” Jacques protested. �
�It’s all about feeling the weapon as an extension…”
“It’s possible, given that Thibault la Fien was convinced that Baron Bonvillain is a fraud,” Isabel continued, “that Baron Hees has some knowledge that was leading the Vicomte into that conclusion and, if that is the case, I think it likely he too is involved with the grander design.”
The Seigneur steepled his hands and nodded along to the conclusion before scribbling something onto a piece of paper. “The Hees family are an old family currently out of favour and never particularly powerful but they’ve never been allied with either the la Fiens or the Lavourés. Quite the opposite, in fact, in recent years the Baron has been quite outspoken in his opposition of many suggestions put forth by Comte la Fien.”
“Do you really believe the Comte la Fien is involved?” Isabel asked.
The Seigneur seemed to consider the question for a moment then made another note on the piece of paper sitting on the desk. Isabel was sorely tempted to walk over and look at the notes the man was making.
“Gaston invited us to take a tour around the new airship,” Jacques announced into the silence. “He approached me with the offer after the duel. Bastien Bonvillain is currently quite angry with the way the Duc handled the entire affair but I think I might take him up on the offer regardless.”
The Seigneur looked confused. “Duc Lavouré does not own an airship,” he stated firmly. “Nor is it legal for him to own an airship. As per the Brovil Statute all non-military airships are owned by the crown and are leased for commercial or leisure purposes and I approve all the leases. If the Duc were to have requested use…”
Jacques was grinning. “It appears the Duc has discovered a legal way around your statute. He doesn’t own the airship per say but he has paid for its construction and for that the navy apparently feel quite indebted to him.”
The Seigneur scowled with such ferocity Isabel was amazed Jacques didn’t burst into flames. “The Northern Sunrise. I was wondering how the military could afford to build such a monstrosity. They’re already leagues over their budget and in debt to half the merchants in Sassaille.”
“That the new one still being built?” Franseza asked.
Jacques nodded emphatically. “The second largest military airship ever built and unlike Horace’s Aegis, the airship that still holds the record as largest ever built, largest waste of money the kingdom has ever divested, and largest disaster in the history of aeronautics, The Northern Sunrise will actually make it more than one hundred feet from the ground without bursting into flames.
“It houses forty-eight Breaker Cannons, those are cannons designed to be used both against ground and air targets…”
“Why would Sassaille ever need to shoot at other airships?” Franseza asked. “Don’t we own them all?”
“All but five,” Jacques replied quickly. “It’s more for precaution than anything else, I believe. Breaker Cannons are the latest, most technologically advanced cannons we can make, why not put them on the latest, most technologically advanced airship we can make?
“It also sports three bomb bay doors and can house almost three hundred soldiers along with its compliment of crew to pilot the ship.”
“You’re certain Lavouré is paying for it?” the Seigneur asked. “All of it?”
Jacques nodded as though it was a small matter. “He’s funded the entire construction from his family’s own coffers as far as I’m aware. He also designed the ship.”
“Starting to make a whole lot more sense now,” Amaury pitched in finally taking his puppy dog eyes away from Isabel, her skin instantly felt cleaner and less prickly. “Those five years he spent studying engineering at the University weren’t just a flight of fancy for a vapid, bereaved little rich kid.”
“I’d say not,” Jacques agreed. “The Northern Sunrise isn’t just another airship, it’s a masterpiece. It utilises four Vinet crystals and a few of my shadier contacts assure me it uses state of the art resistors made from…”
“Klevite,” the Seigneur finished.
“Yes.”
“I would very much like to meet these sources of yours, Revou. Because my own sources can only confirm that the navy have purchased the material in large quantity but not its intended purpose. Care to make a guess as to why the Duc would want the airship’s resistors made from Klevite?”
“If I had to guess,” Jacques said in a lofty voice, “I would probably say it is because Klevite can withstand extreme temperatures and is a relatively poor conductor which in combination would allow for a higher current to be passed through the Vinet crystals.”
Amaury looked lost, Franseza looked bored and lost, but the Seigneur appeared to be rapt, giving Jacques his full attention. Isabel had never claimed to possess a particularly extensive knowledge of airships or the systems that operated them but she could tell the two men were fathoming out some important detail.
“That seems a fruitless exercise,” the Seigneur grated. “Vinet crystals have a limited amount of current they can handle before they crack.”
“Klevite resistors would also make the whole system more efficient allowing for a longer flight time before recharging the capacitors,” Jacques suggested.
The Seigneur waved away the comment. “Our airships can already fly across the Brimstone Seas.”
Jacques was silent for a while but Isabel could see the cogs turning in his mind. “Theoretically speaking,” he eventually started, “if a higher current could be applied to a Vinet crystal without the resulting destruction of the crystal, it would allow for a greater anti-gravity field to be generated.”
Amaury let out a loud yawn and approached the drinks cabinet. “Anybody else want one?”
Isabel raised her hand in an instant, Franseza looked longingly at the selection of spirits but shook her head.
“Simply put,” Jacques continued. “If the Vinet crystals were spaced correctly so that the increased size of the fields did not overlap then the increased current would allow the airships to fly higher.”
“Doesn’t seem like that would serve much purpose,” Amaury said in a sulky voice as he resumed his place by the door and continued showing Isabel his puppy dog eyes.
“How much higher?” the Seigneur asked.
Jacques made a very non-committal sound accompanied by a vague waving of his hands. “Hard to say without seeing any schematics or calculations and we are speaking theoretically here.”
“High enough to need breathing apparatus?” the Seigneur asked.
Jacques mulled over the question. “Possibly. But why would anyone want to go up that high?”
The Seigneur slammed a hand down onto the desk. “The higher an airship flies the less visible it becomes. If one can fly high enough it may be able to avoid detection completely, on a dark day who would notice a single dot in the sky. A hundred bombs could be raining down upon a city before anyone knew what was happening. The Duc is trying to build an airship to attack the Great Turlains again.”
The room exploded into stunned silence.
“One airship wouldn’t be enough to take Turlain,” Amaury stated. “Hurt them, sure, but their Elementals would soon figure out a way to bring the thing down no matter how high it can fly.”
“If the Duc can demonstrate to the other nobles that his ship may have a chance of beating the Turlain Elementals, the fools will be chomping at the bit to fund their own airships and the navy will be more than happy to accommodate them.” The Seigneur let out a low growl. “We need to move sooner rather than later.
“I’ll start engineering a reason for Lavouré to hold a gathering in his home. You two,” the Seigneur pointed once at Jacques and again at Isabel, “start preparing to rob the man. I need proof of his funding the airship, of his conspiracy to start a war with the Turlains and the names of his accomplices in the crime. Expect to have as little as three weeks to prepare.”
The Seigneur levered himself up onto his feet and scooped the papers he had been making notes on into his pockets the
n waved for Franseza and Amaury to help him from the room. Without another word they left and Isabel found herself alone in Baron Bonvillain’s study with Jacques sipping quietly from a glass. She briefly considered shouting at him but decided it would likely serve no purpose.
“Perhaps we should get planning if we only have…” Jacques started to say but Isabel cut him off by slamming the door shut behind her.
Chapter 21 – The Northern Sunrise
Jacques let out a loud sigh. Isabel ignored him yet again. They had little over two weeks left to prepare for the Lavouré job and still she wasn’t speaking to him, in fact she barely even acknowledged his existence when they weren’t playing their roles as the Baron and Baroness.
The Seigneur had been true to his word; Duc Gaston Lavouré was holding a support benefit for one Pierre Giroux, an old blacksmith with long-standing ties to the Lavouré family who was now running for the recently opened position of Deputy Finance Minister of Foreign Relations, a new and particularly pointless position that the Government had recently created. Whoever filled the role would have no real responsibilities other than the occasional signing of legal documents but would have a seat on the Government and therefore a vote in all its decisions. Creating the position without a candidate was a stroke of genius for the Seigneur as it was an opportunity Duc Lavouré could not pass up.
“I hear the Seigneur has also engineered Amaury to be in attendance during the benefit,” Jacques said as the carriage rumbled on over the dusty road, bouncing them painfully one way then the next despite the heavily padded cushions. “It’s something we should factor into our plans,” he continued despite the lack of response. “Despite his mixed feelings for us both I’m certain we can find some use for him.”
Her silence was like an open wound and he seemed unable to find a way to close it.
Jacques opened his mouth to say more but could find nothing to say. For the first time since he and Isabel had met all those years ago, when they were both little more than children, Jacques couldn’t think of what to say to her. It had always been so easy with her. They spoke in riddles only the two of them could fathom, finished each other’s sentences and sometimes even seemed to know what the other was thinking. Right now Jacques had no idea what Isabel was thinking and he had no idea what to say.
