Kapitel 28: Chapter 28: The Fairer Sex
"2 months! 2! Can you believe it?"
"2 separate Kingdoms conquered by the same boy! Saint's breath, he can't be human!"
"I heard he and the 422nd are going to hold a victory parade in the capital! I'm thinking about going there to watch!"
"Do you think he's taken?"
"Of course he's taken, you numbnuts! You're better off hoping he's willing to take a concubine or three."
Marie Fou Lafan listens to the conversations happening around her as she lugs her tarp-covered wagon into town. Her presence is a normal enough sight to the townsfolk of the Lafan Viscountcy that they merely nod at her as she trundles by. In the back of her wagon lay meat from 6 rabbits, 2 deer, a bear, and several wild vegetables– a fruitful day of hunting and foraging. She'd sell all the good cuts of meat, and save the bad ones as well as the veggies for her own consumption. Saves money and fills the stomach easier that way.
She is starting to run low on salt, though. Ugh, and her usual trader isn't due to arrive for another 2 weeks… she supposes some under-seasoned stew will have to do for the time being. Stupid Otome Game setting and its lack of supermarkets. And stupid family for sidling her with so much debt.
The diminutive blonde pulls her wagon into an alley, following the long familiar to the butcher shop's back door. She knocks and it opens to reveal a big, burly man wearing a faded apron with a cute bunny emblem stitched on. The man frowns deeply for a long moment before seeing Marie and her wagon– his features softening into a smile as he laughs good naturedly.
"A big haul today eh, girlie?" the butcher guffaws, rubbing his hands. "What do you got?"
"6 rabbits, 2 deer, and a bear." Marie answers, yanking the tarp off. "You wouldn't believe how difficult it was to put the bear down."
"Saint above, you really went all out today didn't ya'?" the butcher whistles. "Next thing I know, you've gone and conquered a petty Kingdom or somethin'."
"Please, you know I'm not that well-off." Marie snorts. "But I've been hearing people talking about kingdoms being conquered by the same person– what's that about?"
"Oh, you didn't hear? The Raven conquered another Kingdom." the butcher says. "Up north, the Pocket Kingdom of Lura declared war on use for supposedly crossing into their side of the border too many times and launched an invasion. The Royal Army kicked them out, and counter-invaded."
"Huh." Marie blinks.
"Yeah. Apparently, the King gave them 6 months to conquer the whole thing but they managed it in just 2 months. Amazing, innit?" the butcher laughs. "Goodness me, and the lad that led the whole thing is no older than you I think."
"Wha–" Marie blinks again, scanning her memory for any kind of pre-story event that matches this. Nothing comes to mind. "A boy my age? Conquering a whole kingdom?"
"Two, actually!" the man laughs. "The first one was the Kingdom of Carkus somewhere in the south! The same boy dueled the King of Carkus all on his own and won even after the Carkus King used the Carkus secret weapon!" he rubs his chin, nodding. "It wouldn't be wrong to say that he's likely the greatest hero in the Kingdom right now. To have fought in two wars and conquer two whole kingdoms– Saint's hips, I'm getting the shivers!"
"Huh. First time I'm hearing of this, actually." Marie says. "Then again, it's not like I'm around much to listen to background stuff… does this guy have a name?"
"Leon Fou Marshwell. But that might be changing soon, given the rumors I've heard." the butcher shrugs. "He's got tons of other names too; the Raven, Kingslayer, Ghost Commander, Fleet Sinker– maybe more but those are the ones I can remember off the top of my head. Quite the lad, huh?"
Marie hums, mind racing. In her past-life memories, she doesn't remember any kind of capture target with that name and a background similar to this 'hero'. And her stupid brother completed the whole thing at 100%, so there couldn't have been any hidden routes… right?
No, maybe… maybe he was DLC? He must be! Fromsoft were the type of game developers who'd intentionally put in more content after releasing the base game! But why hadn't she heard of anything even when the sequels came out? Was it secret bonus content following the 40th anniversary of that stupid needlessly complex mecha game that her brother loved?
The memory of her brother made Marie scowl. Stupid Onii-chan, playing a stupid otome game to death and leaving her with so much shit. If he hadn't gotten too into it, then maybe–
She shakes her head. No, no, none of that– this was a whole new life and she had a cheatsheet to it all in her mind. No more stupid onii-chan to weigh her down, and nothing to worry about besides surviving until she enrolls into the Academy. Then she can snag all the capture targets and live the life she should have lived– luxurious, easy, and simple! Oh, this would be so much fun and so easy!
And if she has to take the spotlight here and there, well… Nothing personal, right?
=X=X=X=X=X=
Angelica Rafa Redgrave watches from the balcony of her hotel suite in the capital. At her side is Cordelia, her loyal maid, ready to attend to her every need even as the victory parade continues in full swing.
The atmosphere is loud and vibrant. Cheering and confetti fill the air as well as the sounds of music. Down below, people fill the sides of the main road as the soldiers of the famed 422nd march with heads held high beneath the looming shadows of the Armors. Blue and white, armed with weapons and blades locked on their forearms, the Armors walk slowly as they slowly pan their heads to and fro; taking in the sight of adoring, cheering crowds.
"So this is the Ghost Division." she mutters, red eyes sparkling. "They certainly carry themselves as soldiers. But… something feels off."
"Many of them are quite young, milady." Cordelia nods. "Rumors persist that some of them are even too young to properly enlist. Rumors say that they were forcibly enlisted and their true ages doctored to allow for their service."
"Hm." Angelica nods absently. "My brother mentioned that as well. Some kind of shadowy organization that worked to profit off of the military pensions of their dead husbands."
It was despicable that such women operated such a horrible thing to leech off of the Kingdom's coffers when they were already nobles. The thought of sending boys, children, her age and younger out to fight wars… it makes her sick to consider the likes of them to be fellow noblewomen. For there is nothing noble in what they do.
She shakes her head. No, now is not the time for that. Today is meant to be a joyous celebration of the military's deeds in the past year– the conquering of 2 whole nations and the elimination of potential future dangers. Her father had specifically told her to go out and enjoy herself with the day's events, and so she shall.
Then the main part of the parade comes, the boy her age who's genius and battlefield prowess allowed the Kingdom to gain so much territory in so little time.
"There he is, milday." Cordelia says. "Leon Fou Marshwell."
Angelica stands up and walks to the railing, red eyes focusing on the boy leading the core infantry veterans of the 422nd. His Armor, the famous Kingslayer, leads a squadron of lesser Armors that trail after them; colors matching. The crowd screams themselves hoarse for him, confetting and flowers and even some women's undergarments being flung out. But the young man pays it no heed as he marches on, face stoic.
She makes sure to get a good look at him. Tall with dark hair, sharp in his military uniform, sword sheathed at his hip and rifle held in his arm. A scar mars his mature, lean face; a long line from his left jaw trailing upwards towards his left nostril. He walks with the air of a man who knows his worth juxtaposed over the annoyance of a boy who would rather be elsewhere doing something entirely different. It's… endearing, almost.
To think such a boy existed, who could be a fiery war hero and an annoyed youth all at once. It makes her smile, and think that her own daunting future as the Queen of Holfort is not as bad as it sounds.
Suddenly, he glances her way and their eyes meet. Time slows down as the young woman's heart skips a beat; dark eyes boring into hers with such burning focus that it takes her breath away. For a long moment, she feels as though she were a gnat under the gaze of a great predator or a man many years her senior with a lifetime's worth of experience judging her.
Then the moment passes and time resumes. Angelica heaves a sigh and fans herself to cool the heat rushing to her face.
"Milady? Are you alright?" Cordelia asks. "Do you wish for anything?"
"...some water, please." the blonde requests, swallowing heavily as her eyes track Leon's shrinking back. "I am… suddenly very thirsty."
=X=X=X=X=X=
"Step forward, Leon Fou Marshwell!"
Dorothea Fou Roseblade and her sister Deidre watches as the young man in question steps forward. He wears his military uniform rather than any kind of knightly attire that she and many of the nobles expected him to wear– simple and practical with none of the needless extravagance that many noblemen of Holfort believed is needed to draw attention.
While it did draw attention, it was usually the wrong kind. Dorothea lost count how many times such promising men were swept away by one of the dozens of lesser women and harpies-in-human-skin that made up a majority of the Kingdom's noblewomen. Really, it is so hard today to find a man that was actually a man rather than a boy in men's clothing. It was something she learned in her youth– real men, true men, needn't anything but themselves to draw attention.
"Goodness sister, look at him." Deidre whispers, fanning herself.
"I know, sister. I know." Dorothea nods, swallowing heavily at the sheer presence this boy displays. "Saint above, what a man…"
Kingslayer, war hero, conqueror, teacher, Raven– if she were to open a dictionary, looked for the word 'Man', and Leon Fou Marshwell was not its definition, then she would have demanded a refund. Because there is nothing more fitting for the boy who fought 2 wars and conquered 2 separate nations in such a short timespan.
Dorothea watches as he marches to the dais before the King and Queen, kneeling before them. All are silent as His Majesty's gaze sweeps over him.
"Leon Fou Marshwell." he starts. "You kneel before me and my Queen a conquering hero and warrior unparalleled in the battlefield. Through your strategems, whole armies have been broken. Through your orders, entire fleets have been sunk. Through your own efforts, cadres of skilled warriors and even an enemy King have been laid low. You have, through the aid of your fellow soldiers and underlings, contributed greatly in the conquering of the Kingdom of Carkus as well as the Pocket Kingdom of Lura." he pauses, letting all in attendance know of the boy's achievements. "Yet, there is the matter of your age."
"Indeed, Your Majesty." he inclines his head. "My circumstances have no doubt reached your ears already."
"They have, yes. So have those of your fellows in the 422nd." the King's face softens. "Sending boys to fight wars. That is no way for someone so young to develop and grow. It is a severe failing of the Kingdom that your circumstances have been allowed to go for as long as they have. Tell me; who is it that forced you into the military before you even came of age?"
"The Forest of Ladies, My King." the boy answers. "A group of cruel, greed, perfidious noblewomen who conspired to marry young men and even boys before sending them to die in distant battlefields; all to reap the benefits of their pension funds."
Whispers spread through the court. Some express shock, others anger, a few disgust and utter revulsion. Dorothea herself feels indignation and seething heat settle in the hollow of her chest as she hears this. It shouldn't really surprise her that some of these lesser women and she-devils would do something like this, but the fact that they did nonetheless makes her gnash her teeth in suppressed fury.
Beside her, Deidre is no better off; gripping her fan with a white-knuckled grip.
"I see." His Majesty raises his scepter and taps it on the floor, a loud chime silencing the court. "Then I shall decree on this day that all involved in this group shall be hunted down and sentenced to death– for the crimes of fraud and intentional line-ending of various minor noble households. Those found guilty will be executed by guillotine, and all their assets given to the husbands they tried to have killed off. In addition, I hereby annul all marriages of those affected by the Forest of Ladies' machinations." he raises his scepter. "No more will these noblewomen harm the Kingdom's future! So mote it be!"
Cheers and applause erupt in the hall, Dorothea's and Deidre's among them. They cheer for the King, for Leon, for all that this decree effects.
"No longer are you Leon Fou Marshwell." the King continues. "With the annulment of your sham marriage, you are once more Leon Fou Bartford. And for your deeds in Carkus and Lura, I award you with knighthood and the rank of Earl; as well as the appropriate holdings in the territories of former Carkus."
"I am humbled by your reward, My King." Leon says.
"However, you are still young and you lack the knowledge and experience needed to properly conduct the responsibilities that an Earl should have." the King says. "And so I hereby order that you are removed from the Holfortan military so you may attend the Royal Academy as a proper student– to learn and study what you need to become worthy of the title I award you."
"...will my brothers-in-arms be placed under a good leader?" Leon asks. The court gasps at Leon's breaking of protocol, but the King appears pleased.
"Even now you care for your underlings. Such responsibility is a mark of a fine leader." the King smiles wide. "I am pleased to hear this. You needn't worry for them, young man– they will be reassigned into training roles so that the knowledge you have taught them can be properly disseminated among our soldiers. They shan't be sent to battle unless things are dire."
"Then I accede to your wisdom, Your Supreme Majesty." the boy bows. "Thank you, my King."
Dorothea sniffles, moved at the display of benevolence from the King as well as Leon's own care towards his underlings– now former underlings. The court claps and cheers their approval, for Leon and the King both.
And if the Roseblade sisters shed a few tears, well… that's no-one's business but their own.
=X=X=X=X=X=
Zola Fou Bartford runs for her life.
She flees down a filthy alley, her expensive dress ruined and legs burning. In the distance behind her, her capital residence is ransacked by armored soldiers bearing the colors of the Royal Family and House Redgrave.
It had started as rumors on the Forest grapevine about some particular enquiries being made by Kingdom officials to Baron and Viscount households whose they had married. Innocent enough that none thought to pay attention. Visits by Kingdom officials were common enough and happened before, and those members related to them were teased hard enough that they promised to look into things personally when the time was right.
Then those same members disappeared, en-route either to their troublesome men or to their capital residences; gone alongside their ships and exclusive servants. Many figured it to be the work of some Sky Pirates and put their 'husbands' to task so they might keep the skies clear.
But word came of an exclusive servant hired by House Marshwell being visited by Kingdom officials– who dragged Charlotte Fou Marshwell out of her manor and into the ship in chains. They hadn't thought to take any documents with them, those fools, but all in the conspiracy agreed that some quiet and silence would be needed until cooled down enough.
For a few months, Zola had spent her worthless husband's money on every luxury she could imagine in the capital– food and drink, dresses and accessories, servants and entertainment. Her daughter Merce even partook in the festivities, and such was her good mood that she even allowed Luward to join in. He learned the luxuries that women possessed as the fairer sex and the better people of Holfort; partaking in the food and clothes and entertainment that was only ever reserved for herself and Merce.
Suddenly, doors burst open. Armored and armed guards rushed in. Exclusive servants were knocked aside and arrested as they demanded to see Zola; with an arrest warrant as well as proof of her involvement in illegal activities harmful for the Kingdom.
She had fled then, taking with her a coin purse and instructing Merce to do the same. They were to separate and flee the capital on their own to some backwater trading town called Larsken and look for a woman called 'the Gardener' who would take them to safety; at least, that was the emergency plan agreed upon by the Forest of Ladies. Luward had been given a sword and gun and told to keep the soldiers busy.
"B-But what about me?!" he had whispered. "Why does Merce get to run and not me?!"
"Because you stupid child, you are the only one strong enough to hold such brutish weapons." Zola had hissed at him. "Now go be useful for once in your pathetic life and do as you're told!"
That had been half an hour ago. Luward's gunshots had given Zola much time to flee, but it had been a while since the last shots were fired. Either way, the child had done what she had told him to and that was enough. Now to find a ship and flee out of the capital so she and whatever remains of the Forest can regroup and figure out their next move.
She rounds a corner and trips on something. She falls forward with a yelp into a mud puddle, her coin purse bursting on the ground. Peasants and urchins and lowlives and more immediately rush to the sound of scattering money, fighting among themselves even one piece of the currency that had been dropped. Zola watches the mob with growing dismay, horror and fear and fury welling up in her as her way to escape the capital.
An armored boot kicks her side and she screams as ribs snap. She curls up into a ball, glaring hard through the mud and tears at her assailant.
Gilbert Rafa Redgrave smirks back at her, three armored knights flanking him.
"Hello, Mrs Bartford." he leers, barely restrain fury boiling in his gaze. "It wasn't nice of you to run. Now you'll die tired."
—————-
Words by reposter(me): Goddam, the author writing this fanfic posts everyday with clearly 3k words per chapter! I'm writing my own fanfic with a Halo and Warhammer crossover, and it takes several days to write 1 chapter of decent length (1.8-2.7k words)…. But hey! Atleast we get to enjoy this a lot and more often, though I hope the fanfic author doesn't lose motivation to write this anymore from how hard their pushing.
Wöchentlicher Energiestatus
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