Chapter 37
In the capital of the Francia Republic, Lumière.
Despite its name meaning ‘light’, a gloomy rain poured relentlessly from the
city’s dreary sky.
Even on such a day, a club frequented by the more aggressive radicals of the
Republic, the so-called Malopa members, was bustling with people.
True to its origins as a noble’s mansion, the place was impressively
decorated. It was stocked with expensive wines and cigars, which the attending
members naturally enjoyed.
“Even so, to send former President Revere to the guillotine, a fellow faction
member...”
Jean Malraux, effectively the leader of this faction, frowned as he began to
speak.
“Representative Zidor is going too far. Moreover, to think he’s pulling in the
southern nobles with those cowards. It seems that even ‘The Incorruptible’
eventually changes his mind.”
“But Representative Malraux, isn’t it true that the Germanian Empire and
the Northern Union Kingdom have declared war, sending a force of 40,000 troops
towards Francia? Isn’t it reasonable to accept those who unite against a
common foe?”
Indeed, discussions that had been meandering, sparked by the southern nobility
led by Duke Lafayette and Countess Aquitaine, rapidly progressed following the
declaration of war by foreign powers.
“Hmph, give the position of Commander-in-Chief of the Revolutionary Army to
the nobles? Absurd!”
Malraux, already heavily inebriated, scoffed.
“What use is there in losing the purity of the revolution? The royalty and
nobility are the enemies of the people! Wasn’t that why the revolution
occurred? Zidor, he has fallen to corruption!”
“Oh, Haha, I guess the Representative got very drunk. Keep your voice down.”
Despite a colleague’s attempt to calm him, Malraux’s voice resounded loudly
throughout the club.
“Hey, over here! Bring another round! The same that this revolutionary hero
drinks every day!”
***
“Tsk, tsk, how are they any different from those nobles?”
The bartender, overseeing the establishment, handed a bottle of Jean Malraux’s
usual drink to a waiting server.
Taking the bottle, Ellen Darby slowly ascended the stairs.
After the revolution, some said many things had improved.
Others argued that little had changed.
For the Darby family, who lost both parents working in a noble’s mansion,
neither perspective seemed fitting.
Even the earnings of a girl not yet of age were barely enough to feed her
younger siblings, let alone herself.
When an unknown benefactor sent money, it felt like divine salvation from
heaven.
But such salvation was a farce. Her employer admitted to hiring her as a pawn,
risking her life.
When the employer actually provided a house for her siblings and more money
than Ellen had ever seen, she seriously contemplated fleeing.
Being paid a salary incomparable to her past, the days of starvation quickly
faded. Ellen wondered if it might be okay to forget her parents’ vengeance and
move on.
However, when the Republic seriously started considering an alliance with the
southern nobles, she couldn’t suppress her rising anger.
The ideals of the revolution echoed in her mind.
Liberty, equality, and philanthropy.
Freedom from noble oppression, equality regardless of status, and unity in
brotherly love.
Everyone cheered for the revolution, heralding the ideals of the Republic.
Ellen remembered the day her mother returned home covered in bruises, pulling
her young self into a sorrowful embrace, weeping.
She remembered her father, who, despite his outrage over the noble who had
beaten her mother, had to grovel before that same noble the next day.
What heinous act had her parents committed to deserve death alongside the
nobles? What action of her uneducated parents had contradicted the ideals of
the revolution?
If their deaths were truly necessary, then why would those in power consider
joining hands with the nobles again?
As Ellen slowly ascended the stairs, she took a small bottle from her pocket.
Despite mentally preparing herself over and over, her hands trembled like
aspen leaves.
Yet, the bottle opened far too easily, revealing a strangely ominous pink
powder that emitted a sinister glow.
As she poured the powder into the drink, it dissolved instantly, leaving no
trace.
“Nobles can never be trusted! Not a single one! Their cunning whispers are
undoubtedly all lies!”
The voice of a drunken man, screaming at the top of his lungs, grew nearer.
Are the nobles evil? Probably.
Are the ideals of the revolution noble? Perhaps.
Maybe neither is true. Ellen, a commoner with little education, didn’t think
herself smart enough to judge.
But she remembered.
She remembered the madness shown by the torches that engulfed the city that
night.
She remembered running frantically to the noble’s mansion, worried about her
parents, and how they were dragged out, begging for their lives, and how they
died.
She remembered her younger siblings, too young to understand death, clinging
to her, whining why their parents didn’t return, until they finally broke down
in tears.
At the end of her parents’ sacrifice, Ellen couldn’t see how the revelers,
feasting and shouting in the absence of the nobles, were any different from
the nobles who once occupied those places.
Finally, Ellen was close enough to see Jean Malraux’s face clearly.
A fellow member seated next to Malraux glanced at her, then clicked his tongue
and looked away.
Her heart pounded so fiercely that Ellen feared the high-ranking members might
hear it.
She could spill the drink now, feigning an accident. She’d be scolded by the
manager, but it would be as if nothing had happened.
Yet, the memory of her siblings happily laughing and enjoying a full meal for
the first time in their new home, far superior to anything in Lumière, pushed
her forward.
...But those children didn’t know the price of their happiness.
Perhaps the sorrow of her disappearance would be far greater.
Just as Ellen hesitated with her final step, Jean Malraux suddenly approached.
“Why are you so late!”
Before Ellen could utter a word, Malraux raised the glass, shouted a toast on
his own, and downed the drink with the reluctantly responding members.
Ellen nearly collapsed on the spot but instead shuffled towards the window.
Through the relentless rain, the gloomy cityscape, shrouded in mist, lay
beneath.
As the server who handed her the drink didn’t move away but instead approached
the window to gaze out, a heavily intoxicated Malraux shouted.
“Hey, what are you- Ugh!”
He tried to speak.
Before he could finish, a dark red mass burst from Malraux’s mouth and
splattered onto the floor.
“Gasp!”
“What’s happening!”
“Ah, ah, ahhh-!”
Amid the members’ confusion, Malraux, his eyes bloodshot, began to frantically
claw at his own throat.
Ellen watched the scene with blurry eyes.
Words she couldn’t muster at their first meeting, overwhelmed. She had
belatedly asked her contact to ensure that man suffered a painful death, but
she had no expectation that her anonymous employer would heed such a request.
Yet, as Malraux writhed on the floor, his throat drenched in blood, it seemed
her employer had indeed valued her insignificant life.
Malraux’s nearly minute-long screams, frothing at the mouth and convulsing in
agony, ended with him lying in a horrific state, smeared in his own vomit and
blood, never to wake again.
Ellen numbly thought his death mirrored those of the countless others he had
condemned, drowning in their blood.
As the screams of Malraux and the chaos in the room drew people running, and
the other members watched in panic, their eyes slowly turned towards Ellen.
In the silence, broken only by the sound of rain outside the window, she saw
suspicion and anger rising in everyone’s eyes.
Cruelly, there was no sense of triumph or relief.
Oh, how she wanted to live.
Only regret lingered heavily.
She wanted to see her family’s home once more, to see her siblings’ faces
again, to eat delicious food and laugh with them just one more time.
If only she could see her siblings again.
Then, she would tell those innocent, blissfully unaware children what their
sister had done for them.
Angry shouts began to erupt from the men in the room.
Ellen stepped back towards the window, and the men moved closer.
She remembered the woman whose voice had been clear yet face veiled, piercing
her ears.
She had ignored her small wish to know the name of her benefactor, yet the
woman had fulfilled a request she hadn’t even dared to hope would be granted.
The cruel consideration somehow felt like a promise to take care of her
siblings, as if telling her to be at peace. Was it just her own hopeful
thinking?
- Ellen Darby, you overestimated your will.
Words that had filled her with defiance when she heard them.
Watching the men charge towards her, Ellen finally realized the truth.
- Are you sure you won’t resent your younger siblings when you die?”
The once endearing, precious smiling faces of her siblings were now tainted
with terror, no longer seeming lovely.
She wanted to live.
Ellen took another step back. The windowsill pressed against her waist.
Even if it was just a worthless life, unknown and unacknowledged.
At least, when meeting her parents again, she wanted to be smiling.
One more step.
Her body, with nowhere else to go, toppled backwards, and the rain mercilessly
struck her.
Ellen reached out vainly towards the sky, clouded with dark clouds, devoid of
any light.
She didn’t know if the wetness on her face was tears or rain.
Mother.
Father.
Was I a good sister?
***
The next day, Lumière was abuzz with the shocking news of Jean Malraux’s
horrific poisoning and the suspected young girl’s suicide.
With the revelation that the poison used was a product of Abyss Corporation,
along with Jean Malraux’s lead in the attack on an Abyss Corporation branch,
public outcry surged against the vile demons.
The story of the suspect girl was quickly forgotten by the people.
Later, as news spread that the Germanian Empire’s army was soon to reach
Francia’s border, even the tales of Malraux, once a revolutionary hero, were
forgotten.
***
Revolution Era - Lumière
Upon hearing of the Germanian Empire’s declaration of war, Christine had Jean
Malraux eliminated through an assassin she had planted in advance.
Lumière, initially stirred by the assassination of Jean Malraux, briefly
focused on the plausible motive of revenge by Abyss Corporation. However, it
soon shifted its attention to the imminent threat of war.
As Jean Malraux, who had been vehemently opposing our collaboration in the
National Assembly, disappeared and the foreign threat became imminent, the
discussions in the Assembly concluded swiftly, unlike the previous sluggish
progress.
My request for the position of the Commander-in-Chief of the Revolutionary
Forces was, as expected, denied. Instead, Raphael Ballian, whose abilities had
been proven in battles against the kingdom’s forces, was appointed commander
of the Northern Army, and I was placed in charge of the Southern Army.
I never expected the Republic to place all revolutionary forces under noble
command. My demand for the top position was merely a strategy to lead
negotiations, so this outcome is satisfactory.
In exchange, all lords in our coalition were granted not only officer ranks in
the Republic but also seats in the National Assembly. Moreover, for a year,
while the Republic takes over the administration of our territories, their
governance is deferred.
Additionally, each noble was assured of retaining their existing wealth, and
depending on the territories handed over to the government, they received
compensation like tax exemptions, pensions, or public office appointments.
Especially noteworthy is Christine, who will now enjoy tax exemptions for the
Aquitaine trading company within Francia, paving the way for immense wealth
with free trade alongside the Holy Church.
After all these long preparations, we finally fight under the same flag as the
Revolutionary Army.
***
At the time when the soldiers of the Lafayette domain and those accompanying
me to the capital, Lumière, were busy preparing.
I found myself facing Jessie for the first time in a long while.
“...Are you sure? Even though you’ve become friends with Eris, your family
will stay here. There’s no need for you to follow me to the capital.”
Even with the deferred period, handing over the estate to the government means
that to the servants, including Jessie, I am nothing more than an employer.
However, hearing my cautious words, Jessie naturally smiled.
“It’s alright, Duke. Serving Lady Eris is quite enjoyable.”
The stiffness and tension, the wariness she showed when she first became my
attendant, were gone. Now, she occasionally joined Eris in playfully teasing
me.
It’s been two and a half years since my return. Now, her expression much
brighter, it’s hard to believe she’s the same woman who once timidly offered
me bread and water with a sympathetic face.
Lost in my thoughts, Jessie was the one to break the silence.
“Duke, may I speak freely, even if it might seem presumptuous?”
“Hmm? Go ahead.”
Encouraged by my response, Jessie hesitated for a moment before speaking.
“I am but a maid with little education, but if I’m not mistaken, Duke, it
seems you believe your servants serve you reluctantly, as you are a lord.”
Caught off guard by her insight, I was at a loss for words. Jessie cautiously
continued.
“Duke, you pay your servants fair wages for their labor, and compared to other
lords, you don’t mistreat us. Frankly, I think it’s hard to find such
treatment anywhere else.”
“...I see.”
Jessie paused for a moment before adding with an awkward smile.
“...To be honest, when you suddenly made me your personal attendant, I had
some... unsavory suspicions.”
“I figured as much.”
“I apologize.”
Jessie briefly averted her gaze at my response but then took a deep breath and
looked at me directly to continue.
“Not just me, but most of the staff are satisfied with their work at the
Duke’s estate, and are grateful to you. Since the time the previous Duke left
the domain, many have felt this way. So, whether it’s me or others going to
the capital, we follow you of our own will. You needn’t worry.”
Watching Jessie glance at me nervously after finishing her speech, I smiled.
The answer to the question I never asked, even in the dungeon or after my
return.
I had always worried that even if I tried to get closer to them, it would only
make them uncomfortable, constantly questioning whether I was truly
empathizing and treating them right.
Yet, she had voluntarily sought out and delivered the answer to the unasked
question.
“Thank you for saying that, truly. I appreciate your sincerity. ...I hope I
haven’t taken too much of your time, with all the preparations going on.”
“Not at all, Duke. I’ll take my leave now.”
“Alright. Once we arrive at the capital, I’ll make sure to give a bonus to
those who’ve worked hard.”
“I’ll look forward to it, Duke.”
Jessie left with a bright smile, and as I turned the corner of the hallway,
heading to my office, I ran into Baron Dumont.
The Baron, seemingly more rotund, was dabbing his eyes with a handkerchief,
his eyes reddened.
“Baron Dumont.”
“If Lady Yuria could see this, how happy she would have been...”
Hearing Baron Dumont’s words, I smiled gently and asked.
“Weren’t you angry about my decision, Baron?”
“Ahem, well, that is...”
We’re surrendering our estates to join the Republic.
Even though the southern nobility’s coalition has its full strength, combined,
they barely surpass half the population of the Republic, including the capital
and the northwest.
It was a necessary decision for me to counter the king allied with foreign
powers, and there were some compensations. However, Dumont and his retainers,
who had been loyal to the County of Toulouse, had strongly opposed it.
Baron Dumont seemed to ponder for a moment before letting out a deep sigh.
“I still don’t quite understand. It’s not easy to change the beliefs that have
been held for so long.”
Though he had been the most helpful to me, Dumont found it hardest to accept
joining the Republic. I had appointed him as the governor of the Toulouse
region.
The authority was far greater than owning a barony, but for him, this was more
a matter of sentiment than reason.
“However, Lady Yuria... the late Count had entrusted me to look after you,
Duke. Therefore, serving you is my duty.”
“No, Baron. Now you serve our country, not just me. We work together as
equals, not with me above you.”
Baron Dumont looked at me quietly, then sighed lightly and nodded.
“I don’t know if I can get used to it, but...”
“You will be able to, Baron. And I entrust this place to you.”
When I offered my hand for a handshake, Baron Dumont accepted it somewhat
awkwardly.
I shook his hand firmly and then gave him a respectful nod.
“Thank you for everything, Baron.”
Baron Dumont once again started to sob, pulling out his handkerchief.
He’s not acting his age.
But with him here, I can head to the capital without worry.
***
The journey took some time as we joined forces with the armies and entourages
from Aquitaine and Anjou, but we managed to enter the capital, Lumière, just
before winter.
Seeing the flag of the Francia Republic, which had been an enemy before my
return, now flying with the army I led, gave me an odd feeling.
The revolutionary government eventually compromised with us, but they didn’t
want it to appear as a surrender.
We had requested it, but the government portrayed our faction as patriots who
turned their backs on a corrupt, foreign-aided monarchy to join the cause of
the revolution.
Thanks to this, the people of Lumière reacted rather well.
The same people who had crowded the square shouting for my death were now
casually watching our procession as if it were a spectacle.
When the Aquitaine traders, leading the parade, began throwing bread they had
prepared to the spectators, the crowd erupted into cheers.
Soon, some even began shouting “Long live Lafayette!” and “Long live
Aquitaine!” which quickly spread throughout the square.
It was Christine’s suggestion, and while effective, it made me want to
grimace.
Talk of liberty, equality, philanthropy, and the downfall of corrupt nobles
aside, it seems immediate bread in hand brings more joy.
“Even those rioters look up to you like this, there’s no doubt you’re an
unparalleled hero, Duke. This Damien de Mirbo will continue to serve you
loyally!”
“...”
Struggling to keep my disdainful expression in check, I forced a smile and
responded to Damien.
“Just do your duty well, General.”
“Haha, of course, yes....”
Damien de Mirbo, the latest to join our ranks, managed to obtain the position
of a general under my command, leading his troops into our fold. He also
secured a guarantee of no prosecution for his actions before joining the
Republic.
Lucky him. It’s good for him, but I wonder if accepting this unreliable ally
was a wise decision.
Upon reaching Lumière’s central street, I saw a podium prepared, with several
members of the National Assembly waiting.
Dismounting from my horse, I slowly made my way towards it.
“Welcome, Duke Lafayette.”
Nicolas Briso, the leader of the Moderates, greeted me warmly and offered a
handshake. As we shook hands, a voice from beside me spoke up.
“It’s been a while, Duke Lafayette.”
Maximilian Zidor, after offering a light bow, glanced at the citizens cheering
as they caught bread thrown by the Aquitaine traders. He frowned and adjusted
his glasses before speaking again.
“It’s like watching the Colosseum of the ancient empire.”
Was he recalling the emperors who mesmerized the audience with brutal, bloody
battles and placated them by throwing bread?
I gave him a slight smile.
“But we are here not to rule over them, but to fight for them.”
Zidor raised his eyebrows slightly, but instead of continuing the
conversation, he gestured towards the podium.
I walked slowly towards it. Before my return, this was the square where I was
dragged to meet my end.
I could see the makeshift court and guillotine in the distance.
The faces of the crowd shouting for my death back then weren’t filled with the
same madness and ecstasy.
Some were contentedly munching on bread, others looked disinterested, and some
conversed in hushed tones, still wary.
As I finally stepped onto the podium and took a deep breath, something flew
towards me.
“Filthy noble scum!”
Reacting reflexively, I shielded myself with magic, then realized the object
that had been hurled and now lay on the ground in front of me was a rotten
egg.
The same foul smell that had hit me when I was helplessly dragged across this
square, shackled and unable to use my magic, caused a bitter smile to cross my
face.
“Who dares!”
Before the crowd could even blink, Gaston burst through, quickly apprehending
the man who had thrown the egg and knocking him to the ground.
...Perhaps this is better.
“Sir Gaston.”
“Duke.”
“Let him go. He is a citizen of Francia, too.”
“As you command.”
As Gaston released the man and stepped back, the man stood up with a mix of
anger and confusion, spat on the ground, and then turned his back, walking
away.
Before the focused attention could disperse, I amplified my voice with magic.
“Today, I, Pierre de Lafayette, have been appointed as the Commander of the
Southern Army of the Francia Republic, and I greet the citizens of Lumière.”
The murmurs in the crowd ceased entirely, and all eyes were fixed on me.
“I am aware that many of you, as members of the Third Estate, harbor doubts
about me and my people, who have decided to join the Republic.”
I had made every possible effort and prepared as many safeguards as I could.
Yet, I do not believe it’s enough. We will surely have to face both external
and internal enemies here in Lumière.
“Though we have lived a long time from different perspectives, your doubts are
valid. I cannot boldly claim to have always understood your freedom, treated
everyone equally, or harbored brotherly love towards all.”
Down below, Christine was watching me.
Her deep, calm black eyes conveyed trust and reassurance.
That gave me the confidence to continue speaking without doubt.
“Despite this, I willingly stand here today. Not beside the old regime and the
king, but with you, the citizens of Francia.”
At first, it was merely for survival, to prove the worth of my life.
I slowly turned my gaze toward the figure who had imposed upon me a sense of
purpose and responsibility.
Even shrouded in robes and a veil, I somehow knew what expression Eris might
be wearing.
“This moment, I stand with you because I have realized that if we do not, our
homeland will be trampled under the feet of foreign powers. Like you, I am a
citizen of Francia, determined to defend our country against those external
threats.”
Gaston and the knights were listening to my words.
“The very freedom you have achieved is a threat to them, and they will attack
us to preserve the old regime’s oppression. They believe they can bind us
again with the chains of the old order.”
Before my return, these men, unknowingly fighting against the revolutionary
flag on my command, now stand arrayed under the flag of the Republic.
“Citizens of Francia, who have endured countless dark hours and shed much
blood. Your hard-won freedom, equality, and philanthropy are under
threat.”
In a battlefield littered with corpses of those who died meaninglessly for the
honor of a selfish father, I demanded their loyalty.
Words just to lead them here for my own goals, knowing full well it was
hypocrisy.
“But the enemy does not yet understand who we are. They fight on the king’s
orders, compelled to battle for the honor of their commanders. We fight for
our own freedom, for the equality of our families, for the brotherhood of our
nation.”
Before my return, I couldn’t give them a reason to fight.
That’s why.
“Citizens of a free Francia, I dare to ask!”
I hope they carry this cause as they go into battle.
“Will you let your freedom be taken from you again?”
“No!”
From a single voice that erupted in the crowd, the same response quickly
rippled and spread across the entire square.
“Will you become slaves to the old regime again?”
“No!”
“Will you fight against the king who betrayed his country and people?”
“Yes!”
“Will you resolutely stand against the threats from foreign powers?”
“Yes!”
“We are the Revolutionary Army! We do not fight under the coercion of
oppressors, but as protectors of the Republic you have built! For the first
time, you will fight for your own freedom, and for the first time, you will
fight for your own glory! You are Francia! For the revolution! Long live
Francia!”
“Long live Francia!”
“Long live the revolution!”
I turned my back as the unified cries of those filling the square resounded
with the force to shake the entire city.
Amidst the assembly members who joined the citizens in their cheers,
Maximilian Zidor stood quietly, then looked straight at me and clapped - a
precise, monotonous three times.
Clap, Clap, Clap
I quietly smiled back at him.
Now.
It truly begins.
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