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âSo, hire a guide,â Adrien replied dismissively.
âSheâs going to be visiting the Tuileries,â Victor said as if that was a real explanation.
âThe Tuileries is off-limits right now. Thereâs construction going on.â
A predatorâs grin crossed Victorâs face. âItâs not off-limits to you, Adrien.â
Adrien jumped to his feet and stared down the newcomer. âDammit! I knew something wasnât right with you. How do you know my name?â
Victor shrugged, and replied, âIt was just a matter of finding someone within the Alset Project with the knowledge we need. After that, it was easy. Youâre a creature of habit, so it wasnât hard to track your movements. And here we are.â
âWho do you work for?â Adrien demanded.
âWell, I was told to gain your trust, so I guess I should tell you. I answer to Jeanne de Fleur.â
âde Fleur,â he said, searching his brain for the name. âWaitâde Fleur? As in, the disgraced former commander of the Ordre de la Tradition?â
Victor suddenly became cross at his inquiry. âChoose your words carefully, Adrien. I may not be head over heels for her like some people I know, but I still have the utmost respect for her, and I wonât let you speak ill of her.â
âF-Fine. I apologize, I guess. But tell me: Is Jeanne de Fleur really coming here for revenge?â
âIf she was willing to wage war for revenge, we wouldnât follow her. No, sheâs coming here to put a stop to the Reign of Terror.â
âShe intends to stop Robespierre.â
âIâm pretty sure thatâs what I just said.â
Shaking his head, Adrien dismissed the idea. âForget it; Robespierreâs become too powerful. He has the resources of an entire country at his disposal.â
âBut he doesnât have the hearts of the people, does he?â Victor countered. âOh, sureâhe might be able to convince them to go along with his ideas with his lovely speeches. But how long do think that will last? Iâll let you in on a little secret: Iâve been doing an âinformalâ poll of the people of Paris. Theyâre sick to death of his antics, and I donât think it will take much to sway them to our side.â
âWhat do you mean, our side? I never said I would help you. What reason could I possibly have to do that?â And with that, he turned to walk away. However, he did it slowly, part of him hoping the knight would be able to stop him.
As if on cue, Victor said behind his back, âIt doesnât take a genius to read the expression on your face when I arrived. Youâre scared to death, my handsome friend. Whether youâre scared of failing or succeeding, itâs obvious you donât want to finish the Alset Project.â
Adrien considered the other manâs words, but they still werenât enough to persuade him. âIf I quit now, Robespierre will have me executed by that crazy blond woman.â
âI know a thing or two about crazy women,â Victor laughed. âThatâs why I donât even bother. ListenâIâm not asking you to quit. I just need a little information. You help us out, and when we storm the city, weâll stop the madness and you wonât have to crap your pants whenever anything goes wrong.â
Adrien sighed; was he actually going to go along with this? In the end, none of his choices filled him with confidence. âI want a promise of amnesty when this is all over.â
âIf that is what it takes to gain your trust. Sure,â Victor shrugged. âYou have my word as a gentleman.â
Adrien adjusted his glasses and sat back down. He felt like he was going to be sick, but he also felt this was the right thing to do. After all, the Ordre had always fought for the best interests of France (despite what Robespierre claimed). Siding with them was really the only way to ease his conscience.
***
Le Junkyard, France, April 12, 1789 (Infini Calendar), 4:01 p.m.
Jeanne sat idly in the captainâs chair aboard the Minuit Solaire II. She knew she could be of more use elsewhere, but she wanted to make sure she was present the very instant Victor returned with his report. Ever since she had sent him to Paris to perform reconnaissance on the Alset Project, she had spent much of her time on the bridge of their stolen airship, either pacing back and forth or sitting in her chair with her head resting on her hand. She couldnât even look out the window since almost the entire airship was covered in garbage. The boredom and tedium were near-overwhelming, but she had a hard time leaving the room, even for important things such as meals (fortunately, the vessel was fully stocked with canned goods when they took it from Mt. Erfunden).
The monotony was suddenly broken by the distinctive sound of the Minuit Solaire IIâs hatch. She turned around to see Victor descending the stairs in the corridor outside the bridge. He entered the bridge and greeted Jeanne. She then summoned Pierre and Celeste to the bridge where they gathered around Victor to hear him out.
âReport,â she said.
âI found the current head of the Alset Project, a young man named Adrien. After following him for a while and learning his patterns, I eventually made contact with him at the spot he always goes to after work. He wasnât hard to convince; turns out he had his ownâŠreservationsâŠabout what theyâre doing in Paris. Whether that was out of conscience or fear of failure,â he shrugged, âI didnât ask. It was plain as day he didnât want to be involved in it anymore.â
Jeanne was skeptical yet hopeful. âAnd heâll help us?â
âHe already has. He told me the date the system will be activated: May third.â
âThat doesnât give us a lot of time,â Pierre said.
âItâs enough,â Jeanne said. âWeâre going to take every single day between now and then to prepare. Celeste, you said thereâs a generous amount of explosive material here in Le Junkyard?â
The engineer nodded. âYes, miladyâalthough it is mostly discarded rocket canisters.â
Jeanne knew what Celeste was talking about. Years ago, before the advent of airships, France experimented with rockets. The idea was to fill iron rods with fuel and launch them at enemy forces. Supposedly the Count of Saint-Germaine was the one who created the liquid fuel, which he called propellant.
However, the rockets were very difficult to control; they had a habit of exploding on the very people trying to launch them. Moreover, the Count never shared the secret of the propellant with anyone (as far as Jeanne knew), and upon his deathâhis first deathâFrance lost all means of producing it. Jeanne now suspected that he had created the fuel using alchemy. Perhaps he even manufactured it from his own blood as he did the organic weapons he fought with aboard the royal airship. If that were the case, it was very unlikely the world would ever see such a fuel source again.
At any rate, the iron rockets were eventually dumped in Le Junkyard, where they would be forgotten until a poor orphan stumbled upon them and nearly blew herself up with them.
âYour story about causing an explosion with them gave me an idea. Do you think you could make some bombs from the materials available?â
âYes, easily. But weâd have to be very careful; youâre surely aware how unstable the propellant is.â
âWhatâs this story about causing an explosion?â Victor inquired. The look on Celesteâs face told Jeanne sheâd said too much.
âAh, wellâŠitâs nothing. Just a story Celeste told me about someone she used to know.â Jeanne hated to lie, especially to the subordinates who trusted her, but sheâd promised Celeste she wouldnât reveal her past. That was for the young engineer herself to do if and when she was ready.
Victor looked as if he didnât entirely believe his commander, but Pierre helped her out by getting them back on track. âYouâre thinking we can drop bombs on Paris. As a diversion?â
âY-Yes, exactly, Pierre,â Jeanne said. âWeâll be careful not to target the civilian population, of course. We just need to get the militaryâs attention away from our real target: the Tuileries tower.â
âWonât Robespierre simply order all troops back to the central tower to defend it?â Victor said.
Jeanne shook her head. âHe has no military experience. In all likelihood, heâll either be slow to react, or heâll make the wrong call.â
âMilady, I actually have other ideas for tools we can make out of the junk on hand.â Celeste shared her ideas, most of which Jeanne approved of. These things could indeed be made quite easily from materials already available in Le Junkyard.
At the end of the briefing, Jeanne said, âIn the morning I want the engines fired up. Weâre going back to Grenoble to share the battle plan with Farahilde.â
7
Grenoble, France, April 5, 1789 (Infini Calendar), 10:10 a.m.
Farahilde stood next to Hubert outside the Church of Saint-Laurent. The morning sun shone overhead, bathing the town in comforting warmthâone of the few things Farahilde actually liked about France.
As of late they had mostly stood in front of the doors to the church soliciting men to join their cause and fight for them when they stormed Paris. So far, they had received around two dozen volunteers. The worms who had barged into the church recently had, unsurprisingly, stayed away. No doubt they feared another encounter with Hubert the Giant.
Farahilde was glad she left her bladed gauntlet inside the church during this time. While she enjoyed threatening French worms with it, it wouldnât have inspired many volunteers. And, of course, FrĂ€ulein would have given her an earful if any violence broke out because of her.
Even she couldnât say if she actually liked Jeanne de Fleur or not. Yes, Farahilde respected her, but she didnât know how she felt about the older French woman as a person. When they had first met, Farahilde had genuinely despised her. The young Austrian had never been able to develop meaningful relationships with other women, aside from her schwester. She just seemed to always come into conflict with members of her own sex.
There was also the problem of what Jeanne de Fleur initially represented. Here was a haughty frĂ€ulein trying to rescue her brother who had threatened Austrian sovereignty by invading the Netherlands. Farahilde might have been able to forgive that; it wasnât even the most grievous offense. No, the real reason she had hated Jeanne de Fleur was the latterâs refusal to give back her schwester, Marie Antoinette, who was being held prisoner by the Assembly. It was, after all, the right thing to do. If Jeanne was truly dedicated to the safety of Her Majesty, she would have done it.
At least, thatâs what Farahilde used to believe. She had since come to realize things werenât quite that simple. If Jeanne had tried to rescue her schwester against the will of the Assembly, it might have put the queen in even more danger. If Farahilde were in Jeanneâs shoes, would she have tried it? Probably; she was that kind of headstrong person. But would it have been a good idea? Maybe not.
Nevertheless, her schwester had been killed anyway, and that fact might prevent them from ever becoming any closer than reluctant partners in crime.
A French teenager approached her and said, âIs this where I sign up to kick Robespierreâs ass?â Just wonderful, she thought sarcasticallyâanother boy thinking heâs signing up for fun and games.
âThis isnât a vacation in the countryside, boy.â She said
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