The Game Called Revolution - - (free ebook reader for iphone txt) 📗

through the air she tucked in her left leg and extended her right one into a kick. Jeanne slammed her right leg into Farahilde’s chest, sending her flying backwards. Jeanne grabbed the chain on the stone block and held on until the whole thing stopped moving from the force of her landing.

Farahilde hung on for dear life off the number one block. It’s holding! I can use it to rescue Jean-Paul! “It looks like you lose, Farahilde Johanna.”

Farahilde grunted. “You haven’t won yet. Even if you can get over to your bruder, how will you lower him down without dumping him into the pit?”

“Just watch.”

Jeanne took out her rapier and leaped onto the number one block where Farahilde was struggling to hang on. The very instant she landed, Jeanne hurled the rapier at Jean-Paul, and, without wasting even a split second, jumped towards him. The rapier hit the chain holding him up, severing it completely. Jean-Paul de Fleur immediately plummeted towards the pit below, but Jeanne tackled him in mid-air, and their momentum carried them both through the doorway beyond.

They landed on solid ground. It wasn’t the softest landing, but it was the happiest Jeanne had ever experienced. “Brother! Are you all right?”

He groaned, “Yeah, I’ll be fine. Thank you for risking your life to save me.”

She smiled. “You are my family. I could do no less.”

He gasped. “You’re smiling! You really have changed. What happened?”

“Believe it or not, it was a petty criminal that inspired me to change. I’ll tell you all about it later. But for now…”

 

***

 

Farahilde felt her grip on the stone block loosening. Her gauntlet didn’t allow her to get a good hold on it. Damn that French woman! Was it really to end this way, at the hands of a warrior of France?

Suddenly someone jumped onto the block, sending it rocking back and forth. It was her! “Come to finish me off, fräulein?”

Jeanne shook her head. “No, just the opposite.”

She grabbed Farahilde’s arm and began pulling her up.

“What are you doing? I’m your enemy! I won’t be saved by a French worm!”

“Her Majesty would be saddened if I brought back news of the death of a family member,” Jeanne grunted. “I couldn’t do that to her.” Jeanne pulled Farahilde up onto the block. “So, it was the number two block that was booby-trapped. As soon as I cut the chain holding my brother, that block fell. If I had travelled counter-clockwise instead of clockwise, it would have been a disaster.”

Farahilde looked away from her. “Gloating over your victory? You have shamed me today.”

“You shamed yourself with your actions. Let’s get one thing straight: I didn’t save you for you. I did it to spare my queen any unnecessary hardships. You tortured my brother and tried to kill us both. I will be very content if I never see you again after this.”

“Hmph. Fair enough.”

 

***

 

Farahilde led Jeanne and Jean-Paul through the emergency escape tunnel she had had built under the fort. After a half kilometer they emerged in the sunlight of the Austrian Netherlands. They were greeted by a beautiful field of green.

“All right, fräulein. I have paid you back for saving meine life. You had better get out of here before long, lest meine troops find you.”

“We don’t need any further encouragement to do that,” Jeanne said while supporting her brother’s weight. After his torture sessions with Farahilde, he was too weak to walk.

“I do believe I’m due a commendation after this,” he said.

“There you go again, making light of a serious situation,” Jeanne said.

Farahilde said, “I’m afraid I have a favor to ask of you. Will you…will you watch out for meine schwester, make sure nothing happens to her?”

Jeanne replied, “Of course I will. But not for you, obviously. It’s my duty as a knight of the royal family. Frankly, I couldn’t care less about your feelings.”

“Do you promise no harm will come to her?”

“Don’t worry. I promise,” Jeanne said.

“Thank you. Before I go, I’ll give you a word of advice: Don’t get too confident. You may have defeated me, but meine older bruder Leopold II has more surprises in store for you.

“Such as?” Jeanne asked.

“That, you will have to find out for yourself. Auf Wiedersehen.”

Having said goodbye, Farahilde left. Where she was going, they didn’t know. Jeanne was just glad to be rid of her.

“Are your subordinates going to be all right?” Jean-Paul asked.

“You just answered your own question. They’re my subordinates. They’ll be fine.”

 

 

 

***

 

Jeanne and Jean-Paul returned to the fort, where they were greeted by Pierre and the crew of the Minuit Solaire—along with a host of prisoners from the black airship. Pierre explained that they had captured them after downing the enemy vessel. Jeanne ordered them put in the brig aboard the Minuit Solaire.

Afterwards, Jeanne let Pierre command the ship a little longer while she returned to her quarters to rest. Shortly after laying down, she was visited by Manon Roland (still wearing the queen’s red dress).

“I am sorry to bother you, Commander, but I wanted to clear up something between us.”

“What is that?”

“I understand if you despise me for not allowing Her Majesty to return to her family.”

Jeanne sighed. “I’d be lying if I said I was a great admirer of yours as of late, but I’m not petty enough to hate you for that.”

“Nor am I Marie Antoinette’s biggest admirer. However, please understand that our queen has a great responsibility to her people. Her influence over the king has contributed greatly to the current state of France. Whether anyone likes it or not, she can’t just abandon them for the sake of a few soldiers.”

Jeanne had to fight to hold her emotions in check. She was tired and felt herself in danger of losing control. “So instead you hold her prisoner like a common criminal.”

“If we let her go free, she would abandon the country as she had already tried before.”

“You…make a good point, Manon Roland. But I still think there must be a better way to handle the situation.”

“If you find it, I’ll be happy to listen.” She turned to leave, but stopped abruptly. “Oh, there was one other thing. I’ve always wanted to pay my respects to the descendant of Jeanne d’Arc in private. I think you have done her proud.”

Jeanne was taken aback by the sudden compliment from Manon Roland. “Why…thank you.”

“I understand that eye patch is passed down from mother to daughter in your family. That seems somewhat of an unusual tradition.”

Jeanne honestly couldn’t deny it. “I suppose it is.”

“Especially since—to my knowledge—Jeanne d’Arc never wore such a thing.”

“Well, that’s—what?”

“I’ve seen numerous paintings of her, and she doesn’t wear an eye patch in any of them. Also, there is no record of her suffering an eye injury at any time in her life.”

Now that she thought of it, Jeanne realized Manon Roland was right. Jeanne d’Arc was never known to have worn an eye patch. But that didn’t make sense. The God’s Eye was supposed to have originated with her. It was what allowed her to know God’s will and helped her defeat the English during that famous war. She would have needed the eye patch to withstand the power of the God’s Eye. It was inconceivable that she would have been able to keep her left eye open every day. It would have driven her mad in no time.

What did it mean?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

PART III

Il me faut que vous mouriez

(I Need You to Die)

 

 

 

 

1

 

 

 

 

Château de Fleur, September 18, 1789 (Infini Calendar), 12:00 a.m.

Jeanne sat at a fancy marble table within the library of her family’s estate in Domrémy-la-Pucelle, looking over every document they had relating to her ancestor Jeanne d’Arc.

She wasn’t supposed to be doing this. Ever since the Ordre’s return from the Austrian Netherlands the previous day, she had been under doctor’s orders to remain in bed. This was because of the injuries she sustained fighting Farahilde Johanna. “Injuries” made it sound a lot more serious than it was, though; really, it was just a lot of bruising on her midsection. Her irodium armor took the brunt of the barrage of bullets from the wind rifles of Farahilde’s troops.

Nevertheless, something had been bothering her ever since the flight home from the Netherlands. Manon Roland’s comments about Jeanne d’Arc never having worn an eye patch piqued her curiosity. So here she was, in the library at midnight, after all the servants had gone to bed.

Jeanne looked through several artists’ renditions of her ancestor; drawings of her first talking to God on a hill, leading French armies into battle, clashing with English troops, standing triumphant after battles and, finally, escaping from the English before they burned her alive. True to what Roland had said, Jeanne d’Arc wasn’t wearing an eye patch in any of them. Her legendary ancestor was supposed to have passed on the God’s Eye to her descendants, but how could that be if she herself did not possess it?

Jeanne put the pictures back in the trunk between two book cases where she had gotten them. She then looked through a book about her ancestor written by an historian, trying to find any mention of an eye patch or eye injury. However, there were none to be found. It reported that Jeanne d’Arc suffered numerous injuries throughout her campaign to defeat the English, but none to her eyes. Interestingly, it also didn’t say anything about her life after her escape from the English. It was almost as if she ceased to exist at that point.

So instead, Jeanne looked through the book for all references to her ancestor’s fabled ability to talk with God. Sure enough, there were passages dedicated to it. According to the book, God spoke directly to Jeanne d’Arc and gave her guidance on how to proceed against the English. It was even reported that Jeanne d’Arc was known to have carried on conversations with thin air. Was this connected to the God’s Eye somehow? Did her legendary ancestor simply possess it in a different form? But if that were the case…why?

 

***

 

The Tuileries, Paris, September 20, 1789 (Infini Calendar), 9:00 a.m.

Jeanne, Pierre and Victor entered the war room of the Tuileries Palace, the walls of which were adorned with various maps of the surrounding countries. Tables were covered with what appeared to be military intelligence reports. The knights sat down at a round table opposite the king and queen, as well as the representatives from the Assembly, Jacques-Pierre Brissot de Warville and Manon Roland. Roland, as usual, was decked out in a beautiful blue dress that complemented her silky white skin.

“Thank you all for coming today,” Louis XVI said. “And my wife especially would like to express her gratitude for your success in your most recent mission.”

Marie Antoinette reached over and squeezed the hands of each of the knights. “Thank you so much for sparing the life of my younger sister. I deeply regret the trouble she caused you.”

“I will admit it was not easy, Your Majesty,” Jeanne replied. “Farahilde Johanna captured my brother, tortured him, and tried to kill the rest of us.”

Brissot slammed his fist down on the table. “So why did you spare her? She was an enemy! You should have killed or captured her!”

Jeanne took a moment to collect her thoughts and compose a suitable response for the warmongering Brissot. “There were two reasons for that. One—after the fight