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

based on the condition they had been in the last time he saw them. He would never forget the look on Jeanne de Fleur’s face (nor did he want to); she had been completely broken by the deaths of the king and queen, as well as the sight of her brother rushing to his demise. No one could have recovered from that.

At least, that’s what Robespierre had believed. Was he mistaken? Or was someone else leading the group now? He certainly hoped it was the latter. If Jeanne de Fleur was the kind of person who could come back from such a devastating psychological blow, then he might actually have something to fear.

An attendant hurried over and Robespierre instructed him to send orders to the army commanders in the city to send steam cannons to the eleventh and twentieth towers and shoot down the black airship.

 

***

 

After having attacked several towers (but not truly disabling any of them), the Minuit Solaire II changed course and headed towards the Tuileries, coming in from the northeast. By now Robespierre should have received word of their mischief, and being the inexperienced military leader that he was, he had most likely sent steam cannons out to engage them. But because of the airship’s erratic course so far, he would probably send them to the wrong place, rather than making the smart call and waiting for the Ordre to come to him.

When they were above the fourteenth arrondisement, Jeanne turned to Pierre, who was standing next to her chair. “We’re only a few kilometers from the Tuileries.”

“Yes. No sign of the towers starting up yet. So far this has gone well. Perhaps too well.”

“You think it might be a trap? Could that Adrien have sold us out?”

“I can’t say for cer—”

His words were abruptly cut short when the ship lurched violently. The hull began groaning and shaking in protest to some unknown influence. In front of them, the canopy window crackled with blue energy.

Pierre grabbed hold of the back of Jeanne’s chair to steady himself. “So much for the towers staying quiet.”

Jeanne grabbed the communications tube next to her chair and said, “Celeste! Report!”

“I think the towers have begun funneling electricity to the Tuileries, and we’re caught up in it.”

Jeanne got out of her seat and walked awkwardly over to the canopy window, being careful not to lose her footing to the turbulence. Several large arcs of electricity connected the Tuileries up ahead with multiple towers. Furthermore, additional lines of blue energy kept appearing.

It was starting.

Jeanne returned to the captain’s chair. “This model of airship was designed to resist electricity, wasn’t it?”

Celeste’s voice sounded less than confident. “I don’t think it was designed to withstand this much, milady.”

“Get us out of the way of this electricity!” she ordered Alphonse, the operator.

“It’s no good, ma’am; controls aren’t responsive. We’re losing altitude.”

Somehow, she just knew he was going to say that. “You mean…we’re going to crash?” Again?

He grunted at the controls. “No, ma’am. I think…I think I can get us down safely. It won’t be comfortable, but we should be all right.”

The Minuit Solaire II went down slowly, clumsily on the Rue Saint Honore, a street just north of the Seine. There was another hard lurch as the ship’s hull scraped the front of a building, no doubt sending mortar and windows crashing to the ground.

The bridge crew was once again rocked forward as the airship scraped along the ground for a few moments before coming to a complete stop. When things were once again quiet, Jeanne asked everyone on the bridge, “Can I assume you’re all OK?”

They each confirmed this. “That was actually fairly benign for one of our landings, wouldn’t you say, Commander?” Pierre said.

“We certainly don’t have the best luck with airships,” she agreed. “But I think we got off pretty lucky this time.”

 

***

 

Everyone assembled topside on the deck of the Minuit Solaire II. This included all of the Ordre, Farahilde, Hubert and the two dozen volunteers they had managed to recruit for this mission. The only one left behind was the Marquis de Sade; Jeanne decided he could rot in the brig for a little while longer. That, and she still didn’t want Farahilde finding out he was on board.

Jeanne, Pierre and Victor stood at the bow of the ship, looking at the large tower ahead of them to the east. It pulsated and crackled with blue energy coming from the lines of electricity coming in from all directions. In addition, an ominous cloud cover was forming above the city, and the air felt heavy to Jeanne. “The Tuileries is about a kilometer up the street,” Pierre said. The Rue Saint Honore ran northwest towards the Tuileries, and eventually curved slightly so that the street ended up being just north of it (or, from their perspective, to the right).

“There’s no time to waste,” Jeanne said.

The sounds of shouting somewhere behind them caught their attention. “Milady, this is bad!” Celeste called out from the rear of the ship.

The knights maneuvered through the throng of volunteers on the deck and made their way to the stern where Celeste, Farahilde and Hubert were standing. “What is it?” Jeanne asked.

Farahilde pointed to a large group of soldiers—at least three times the number of volunteers the Ordre had— a few blocks down the street who were marching towards them from down the street to the southeast. “It seems not everyone was fooled by our unpredictable flying. It looks like those worms are actually smart enough to come defend the central tower.”

Pierre ran back inside the ship and within moments emerged with a pocket spyglass. He extended it and looked towards the advancing soldiers. “I’ll be damned. Look who’s leading them.” He handed the spyglass to Jeanne.

She looked through it for a moment. “Hmph. Lefebvre, that snake. I see by his uniform that he’s been promoted.”

It was, indeed, François Joseph Lefebvre, the officer of the Maison du Roi who had ambushed them at the Bastille last year and escaped with the Marquis de Launay, the nobleman in charge of the prison. Jeanne later found out de Launay had been killed by the enraged crowd which had attacked the Bastille.

“You know this worm?” Farahilde asked.

Jeanne gave a curt response. “Regrettably.”

“What are we going to do about this?” Victor said.

Strangely enough, the solution was presented by Hubert the Giant. “Leave it to me!”

 

***

 

Lefebvre led his troops forward towards the downed enemy airship a few blocks away. It didn’t take him long to recognize the knights of the Ordre de la Tradition when they came up top after the ship was brought down by the massive amounts of electricity pouring into the central tower. Hell, he knew as soon as the attacks started that it couldn’t be anyone but them. Unlike Robespierre, Lefebvre had a soldier’s mind, and he knew the Ordre’s halfhearted strikes against the other towers was just a ruse, and they would eventually make their way to the Tuileries, so he decided to do the same. And here they were.

Jeanne de Fleur had made a fool of him last year at the Bastille, dispatching his troops like they were school children. He had acted so cool and confident to get her on his side, but she stubbornly refused. Ultimately, he hadn’t been able to do a thing against her; escaping with the Marquis de Launay was the only thing he had to show for that skirmish. Fortunately, though, that—along with bringing down the Bastille—had been enough to impress the Assembly and get him a promotion.

King Louis XVI had wanted Lefebvre executed for turning against the monarchy, but the Assembly overruled him, citing Lefebvre’s dedication to his country as reason enough for him to remain in the service of France. Of course, the Maison du Roi was disbanded by the Assembly not long after, but Lefebvre was promoted to a higher position within the Gardes Francaises.

Despite what many people believed, Lefebvre knew in his heart that his devotion to the French people was genuine. Everything he had done had been for their welfare. So, what if he himself benefited because of it—that was incidental. Besides, the more power he was granted, the better he could serve them.

He held out his arm and yelled to his men, “Halt!” He wanted to take stock of the situation, so he looked through his spyglass again. Jeanne de Fleur stood on the deck of the airship examining him with one of her own.

Suddenly, the largest man Lefebvre had ever seen emerged from below deck, his arms full of small iron spheres. “What the hell is this?” he muttered to himself.

Without warning, the giant hurled one of the metal balls towards Lefebvre and his men. There’s no way it can fly all the way over here, he thought. After all, it was a good two blocks between his men and the giant.

But it did fly all the way over there.

He didn’t know what it was, but he knew if his enemy was throwing it, it was bad news. As soon as he realized it did indeed have enough velocity to reach them, he yelled to his men, “Look out!” He then dived out of the way.

However, his men were in such a tight formation that not all of them were able to dodge the round object. It hit at the feet of one of them, exploding into flame and shrapnel. The poor man was set ablaze, and a few of his compatriots were skewered with metal shards. They cried out, either in pain or surprise, at the unexpected assault. Explosives! This must be what they hit the towers with. “Fall back! Take cover!”

 

 

***

 

“Good work, Hubert!” Victor said, patting the giant on the back. Hubert’s quick-thinking in grabbing the leftover bombs and hurling them at Lefebvre’s forces had bought them some time.

“Yes, but it won’t hold them off forever,” Jeanne said. “We’ll need to act quickly.”

Celeste, however, was staring up at the sky. “That army regiment isn’t our only problem.”

“What do you mean?” Jeanne asked her.

Celeste pointing upwards, explained, “Look at all those clouds gathering above the city. It could very well start raining soon, and with all the electrical currents in the air…”

“What? What are you trying to say?” Jeanne said.

“Water is a major conductor of electricity. If we get a heavy downpour, the electrical currents could travel through the water, electrifying the entire city. Anyone caught outside would be killed!”

Pierre, perhaps sensing what needed to be done, said, “Ma’am, you’ve got to get to the central tower. The rest of us will hold them off here.” There was a cheer of assent from the assembled volunteers, almost all of whom had brought their own firearms. They held their guns in the air and as a group assured Jeanne they would not let the enemy pass. She wasn’t crazy about going into the Tuileries alone, but as it turned out, that wouldn’t be the case.

A rather confident Farahilde declared, “I’m going with you, fräulein. I won’t be able to get revenge on Robespierre by simply butchering his worms out here, and I won’t let you be the one to save meine Austria from his weapon. He needs to see my face, at least.” Jeanne could see Pierre wasn’t exactly thrilled with the idea, but he didn’t bother to voice any objections. Jeanne was going to need all the help she could get inside the palace; even mentally questionable help from someone like Farahilde Johanna was preferable to Jeanne going it alone.