The Game Called Revolution, - [ebook reader 8 inch .txt] 📗

motion, took both their heads with her scythe. Dual geysers of blood spewed out from their open necks as their now-lifeless bodies fell to the floor of the scaffold in a heap.

“Good work, Marie,” Robespierre called from the bottom of the steps. “You know what to do next.”

Tussaud nodded, and then casually walked over and picked up the severed heads. She may have been a top-notch executioner, but what she would do next was the real reason he had taken her into his employ.

 

***

 

Pierrete, France, March 25, 1790 (Infini Calendar), 1: 30 p.m.

Jeanne and Farahilde arrived at the outskirts of the small village located in the French countryside. The village consisted of a dozen houses spread unevenly around a central fountain. All in all, it was a very unremarkable place, though Jeanne believed it held a secret which would prove useful to the two of them.

They left the motor bike (for which Jeanne was thankful; it had not provided the smoothest transportation) and began walking casually towards the fountain in the center of the small community. They wore light-brown cloaks to disguise themselves, as they had no idea what kind of reaction the townspeople would have if they found out the truth. The country had turned against the Ordre de la Tradition six months ago, and according to Farahilde, Robespierre had placed bounties on their heads (and, of course, Jeanne’s was the largest).

As they walked along, Farahilde asked, “You think he’s just going to be out here in the open waiting for us?”

“He’s much more intelligent than that. His bounty is second only to mine, so he’s sure to be hiding somewhere.”

“And how will you find him? Will you sneak through every house in this place searching for him?”

“With any luck, the villagers will take me to him.”

“Oh, it’s that easy, is it, fräulein?” Farahilde laughed.

“If I ask them nicely, perhaps.”

Jeanne could almost see the smirk under Farahilde’s hood. “Well, if that doesn’t work, I’m more than willing to interrogate these French worms. I can get his location out of them.”

“Don’t even think about it,” Jeanne warned her sternly. “I won’t have any bloodshed here.”

“In that case, your silver tongue had better work. We’re surrounded, you know.”

Indeed, they were. As they had been walking, everyone in the village had gradually come out to confront them. Now they were confronted by peasants wielding hoes and other farming tools and staring at the two of them menacingly.

One of them, a large man with thick arms, stepped forward and pointed his hoe at them. “Why have you come to our village? And why do you hide your faces?”

In response, Jeanne pulled back her hood and revealed her face to them.

One of the villagers, a teenage boy, shouted, “It’s her! He said it would be a beautiful woman with reddish-brown hair, tied in a single braid, and a purple eye patch over her left eye.”

Another person, a middle-aged woman, chastised the boy. “Quiet, you stupid child! This could be an imposter trying to trick us into giving him up.”

“You’ve been expecting me, I take it,” Jeanne said.

The muscular leader, however, wasn’t taking the bait. “You certainly match the description of Jeanne de Fleur. But as my wife says, you could be an imposter. It wouldn’t be the first time the Assembly has sent people here looking for him. How do we know who you really are?”

“Simple. If he’s been expecting me—as I believe he has—he must have told you our group’s mantra, the creed known only to us and the royal family,” Jeanne replied. “‘For His Majesty, we defend as the shield. For the country, we strike as the sword. To those who threaten either, we rage as demons.’ And right now, there is a certain man I must rage against. He’s taken everything from me, and I need the hero of this village to stop him.”

The villagers, upon hearing this, suddenly dropped to their knees before Jeanne. “He did tell us your verses. You are indeed ‘Jeanne la Juste,’ commander of the Ordre de la Tradition, and right now…France’s only hope,” the leader said.

Jeanne sighed. “If I were as great as you seem to believe I am, the royal family would still be alive.”

“Do not blame yourself. It was that fiend Robespierre that killed them. Others in France may have turned their backs on you, but not this village. We still believe in what you stand for. Now come; I will take you to the Pride of Pierret.”

Farahilde leaned in to whisper in Jeanne’s ear. “Well done, fräulein.”

 

***

 

The leader of Pierret, who introduced himself as Vincent Reims, led Jeanne and her companion to a nondescript wood house in the middle of the village. There was absolutely nothing to make it stand out from the other dwellings in the community. Vincent’s wife, Catherine, accompanied them. The house turned out to be theirs.

Vincent and Catherine opened a hidden door in the floor of the house and took them down into a candle-lit basement. Down there, sitting at a table studying some papers by the light of a lamp, was a man dressed in peasant rags.

“Pierre! She has come, just as you said,” Catherine announced.

When they reached the bottom of the stairs, Jeanne was able to get a good look at the man at the table, and it was in fact Pierre Girard, the former second-in-command of the Ordre de la Tradition.

Pierre got up from the table and examined Jeanne closely. After several moments of silence, he smiled and said, “It’s good to see you again, Commander. I knew giving you the name of my village before we parted ways was a good idea.”

“It’s good to see you, too, Pierre. I’m getting the Ordre back together, and only you know where to find the rest of them.”

Pierre looked perplexed. “But…it looks like you already found one of them. Isn’t that Celeste standing next to you?”

Farahilde pulled back her hood and revealed her face to him. “I hate to disappoint you, but I am not seine engineer.”

Pierre was shocked. “You! Commander, what are you doing with this chienne? She tried to kill us! She tortured your brother!”

Jeanne tried to explain. “I’m sorry, Pierre. I know she isn’t the most ideal ally, but we need all the help we can get if we’re going to take down Robespierre. We have a common enemy.”

“Don’t misunderstand my intentions, fräulein. I’m only helping you in order to make Robespierre suffer for the murder of meine schwester. I really couldn’t care less what happens to the rest of the French worms.”

Pierre shook his head in frustration. “Do you see, Commander? Farahilde Johanna can’t be trusted. Once an enemy, always an enemy.”

“Listen to me,” Jeanne said. “We were enemies in a war that none of us started. Politics decided that we fight one another. Now we’re in a new war, and I believe Farahilde can be trusted as long as we both seek to bring down Robespierre. Now…are you with us, or not?”

Pierre sighed in resignation. “If that is your order, Commander, I will cooperate with our…new partner.”

Farahilde patted him on the shoulder. “That is wise, meine new friend. Now where is the rest of the Ordre?”

He was visibly uncomfortable with this new alliance. Nevertheless, he tried to adhere to his commander’s wishes. “Ah, well…all in good time. Tonight, Commander, I insist that you stay for dinner. We have a lot of catching up to do.”

 

***

 

That night, they were treated to dinner in the house of Vincent and his wife Catherine. Jeanne and Farahilde sat next to each other at the table in the Reims’ kitchen, while Pierre sat across from Jeanne. Vincent and Catherine sat at opposite ends of the table.

“So, Pierre, you are not actually from France? I suspected as much, since your skin is much more bronzed than the usual French worm,” Farahilde said.

Jeanne nudged her as a reminder to not insult their hosts.

Pierre, however, pretended he hadn’t heard that. “No, I am originally from somewhere in the Holy Land, I think. My mother brought me to this village over twenty years ago. She was badly injured from something, though she didn’t say what. She just had enough time to ask the people of Pierret to take care of me before she succumbed to her injuries.”

“Did you never go home to search for your family?” Farahilde asked.

“This is my home. And this is my family,” he said, indicating the Reims.

“Since his mother didn’t tell us the name of the baby she had with her, we ended up naming him after this village,” Vincent said.

“He grew up to become the Pride of Pierret,” Catherine added.

“I still remember the day he told us he had been invited to join the Ordre de la Tradition,” Vincent said.

“It was the proudest day of our lives,” Catherine said. “We never had any children of our own, but Pierre has always been like a son to us. And not just us; the entire country held a great deal of respect for him. So, imagine our shock when he suddenly came home six months ago and announced that he had been declared a criminal by the Assembly. We couldn’t believe it! If he wasn’t such a serious man, we would have sworn he was joking.”

“I wish it was a joke. But that’s more Victor’s style,” Pierre said.

“Where is Victor?” Jeanne enquired.

Pierre simply said, “In the last place anyone would expect. Tomorrow I’ll take you to see him.”

“So, you carried out the Splinter Protocol?” Jeanne asked.

“Of course, Commander. That is standard procedure in case the group has to break up temporarily. That’s why the last thing I said to you was ‘I’ll be in Pierret.’”

The Splinter Protocol mandates that in the event of the splintering of the Ordre de la Tradition, the knowledge of each member’s location can only be known by the person above him or her. Only the commander knows where to find the second-in-command, who similarly is the only person who can locate the person below him. No one knows the location of the commander (in this case, Jeanne de Fleur), so she is the only one who can initiate the reformation of the group. Although the second-in-command could theoretically reunite the Ordre, they would still be without their leader.

“I wasn’t sure if you would actually carry it out,” Jeanne admitted solemnly. “If you’ll recall, the last words I said to you were ‘Don’t look for me. That is the last order I will ever give you.’”

Pierre smiled. “You may have stopped believing in yourself, but I didn’t. I kept hoping you would return to put things right. If you don’t mind my asking, what changed your mind?”

In response, Jeanne did something she hadn’t done in a long time: She chuckled. “You may be surprised to hear this, but it was actually this crazy chienne sitting next to me. She gave me a reason to live again.”

“You’re going to give me a big head, fräulein. All I did was show you what you weren’t smart enough to see for yourself.”

It looked as if perhaps Pierre was starting to understand the new relationship between these two women. “Well, then, I suppose I owe you a debt of gratitude for bringing our commander back to us, Farahilde Johanna.”

Farahilde simply rolled her eyes and said, “How about we change the subject. Are there any in Paris who would aid us in our battle against Robespierre?”

“I was thinking monsieur Brissot and mademoiselle Roland may be willing to help us. The Girondists were never on very friendly terms with