Florette II: The Exile

“What is he like, Robin Verrou?” Maxime asked as they approached the harbor, warm rays of sun shining down from above.

I guess you’d want to know more about the man sending you on an apparently-vital mission to distant shores. Maxime had asked for an introduction, which Florette was happy to grant, but it seemed strange that he would know so little about his own business. I suppose it’s safer, in case anyone interrogates him. But if that was the reason, it still spoke to a lack of trust from his benefactors. Strange.

Regardless, it was an easy enough favor to grant, and it allowed her to mine his experiences for further details.

“Confident,” Florette answered. “But why wouldn’t he be? It doesn’t mean he’s stupid or reckless.” I could have stood to learn the distinction a lot sooner, for my part.

“Wouldn’t he have to be reckless, to conduct even a fraction of the operations he so regularly engages in? Stealing from the Thirteen is nearly unthinkable, and he was in and out of the Pointe before two days had passed. I wonder if he even remembers the expedition, now.”

“Maybe. Maybe not.” Florette shrugged. “But don’t underestimate him. Avalon’s been trying to nail his head to the wall for seventeen years, and they haven’t managed it yet.”

“Because he’s the greatest sword fighter the world has ever seen?”

“Because he has people to support him, who respect him. It surprised me, too, when I first boarded the Folly, but he’s really the first among equals. They vote on almost everything.”

“Such is only the natural way for a group to make decisions.” Maxime clenched his fist. “If only the world had not forgotten that. If only Condorcet had not forgotten, in practice if not in doctrine. What democratic decisions can be reached when critics are jailed and executed?”

“Yeah, your home sounds pretty dire.” Though still not as bad as people like Camille would have us believe. “Even in occupied Malin, I never saw anyone jailed just for having a pamphlet in their bag.”

“Do not believe, simply because you did not witness it, that such events did not occur.” His voice sounded wise and knowledgeable, but his point was undercut when he stepped into a knee-deep puddle on the road with a loud splash. “I would have thought a city inhabited for so long by a sage of water would have better drainage systems.”

“I don’t know, this seems pretty good to me.” Florette waved her hand across the stone of the street, gesturing to the flowing gutters at the side which surpassed several mountain streams in size. “We went from a sunless winter to late summer in the space of a night. All that snow has to go somewhere.”

“I suppose.”

They walked in silence for another few minutes, Maxime furiously batting at his trousers in a doomed attempt to expel the water soaked through them. Shame we didn’t take Fernan and Mara with us. They’d have him dry in a heartbeat.

And soon I won’t be able to see them for a long, long time.

“I’m an exile too now, I suppose. The Fox-King only gave me three days to vacate the city, probably the whole Duchy of Guerron, if I want to be safe.”

“His use for you expired, and so it was more convenient to discard you. Such is the way of aristocrats.”

Yup, and now I need to find somewhere else to go.

Maxime had apparently been allowed into Realm of the Exiles, but Florette had no idea how that would have worked in practice. Its borders were murky, its members defined more by the taxes they didn’t pay to the High Kingdom than any real nationality. No one even knew where the heart of it lay, except that they had a hidden city somewhere between the mountains and the lake.

“I don’t suppose the Realm of the Exiles is accepting new members?” Maxime had been tight-lipped about any specifics, but he clearly seemed satisfied, and the Queen’s propensity for defiance was well-known, even dating back to the Winter War. “I imagine you know the way in, since you’ve lived there.”

Maxime sucked in air through his teeth. “She would be honored to have you, as would we all, but I’m not permitted to disclose that secret to outsiders. No one is.”

“But then how did you find it in the first place? How does anyone?”

“I fled, and they found me. It was mere fate that I ran along the eastern shore of Paix Lake, rather than the west. If you wish to stumble around the region and hope for the same, you are welcome to do so, but I’d sooner recommend you wait. The Queen told me that Verrou will send me elsewhere once we rendezvous, but he also has the fastest ship in the world. Once my assignment is done, I shall petition the Queen for your entry. Until then, simply lay low. Sit tight, as it were.”

“I don’t really do well, sitting still.” So the Exiles are out, for now. Malin has Camille and Eloise in it, which is reason enough to stay away. Condorcet won’t hand me over, but I’ll be forever on the edge of signing my death warrant for saying the wrong thing…

“I don’t intend to be away for too long. I’m sure you can manage a few months. At least, I hope this doesn’t drag on too long.”

“Oh? Not a fan of running the Exile Queen’s errands?”

“I’m sure that my mission will be of value; I can certainly trust her in that. But the moment my business is done, wherever Verrou sends me, I have every intention of returning here.”

“Here? You mean this ‘here’? Guerron?”

“Precisely. These Montaignards of yours are the beginning of something, mark my words. You fought of your own initiative, using your own arms. That’s a threat to the power structure if I’ve ever heard one. However this all shakes out, I’m confident it will mean improvements to the peasant way of life here. Who knows? Perhaps even a revolution.”

Wouldn’t that be something? “I certainly don’t plan to give those pistols up. Maybe a few, with a lie saying it’s all of them, but even that I’m not sure about. I guess it’s not my decision to make, in the end. But they threw us common people into the meat-grinder on the White Night, while Lucien Renart and his knights took all the credit.”

“Such is the way of structured power. But force of arms can challenge and has challenged it. In my native Condorcet, through Khali’s magic, and in the Realm of the Exiles, through our Queen’s prowess. Ultimately, violence is the means by which all authority is derived. Possessing that means without sanction from authority will inevitably invite conflict in one form or another. I dearly hope that it results in positive ends.”

“Yeah…” Florette muttered, Cassia Arion’s face flashing before her mind, fresh and clear even now thanks to the Fallen. If violence is authority, then what good would it do to erect the same structures? But perhaps she was misunderstanding his point. “Wouldn’t positive results still be temporary, though? I mean, that’s what happened in Condorcet, the way you describe it. The same authority and magic they used to defy oppressors was turned back on its own people.”

Maxime frowned. “To that particular problem, I have yet to find a firm solution, even among the Exiles. Please let me know if ever you do. But the best way I have found to conceptualize things, keeping in mind that all authority is ultimately derived from an expression of the means to do violence, is that authority itself need not be our only structure. Condorcet lost sight of that, deifing the Thirteen due to their powers from Khali, but we need not. We can collaborate, form group consensus at a level comprehensible to each citizen, rather than being beholden to elevated sages or senators or kings.”

“Would you say that the Realm of the Exiles does that?”

“Absolutely.”

“Yet it’s ruled by a Queen.” A common-born pirate queen who told the real monarchs to piss off and got away with it seventy years, but still a queen.

“She is not so different from how you described Verrou: The first among equals, in practice if not in title. And her prowess serves as authority to back the equality of the exiles.”

“Like Khali did in Condorcet?”

“Well, yes. That’s rather my issue with it.” Maxime looked over his shoulder, perhaps towards the hidden village. “The Queen is pure of heart, and far from tyrannical, but her strength is known to all, and it backs her every action. Perhaps it is not my place to criticize she who took me in, but that is not a fair nor equitable arrangement. I’ve been pushing for us to hold elections, but people are so spread out, so wary of authority… Anything that looks like a census is liable to be met with fire and pitchforks, even if it truly empowers them.”

“And she must be incredibly old by now. Even if she were only twenty-five in the Winter War, she’d be pushing eighty by now. What happens when she dies?”

Maxime shook his head sadly. “She will choose her successor, just like any king or queen might. Even if she chooses another who is strong but fair, willing to lead from consensus and provide fairly for all, they still must choose their own successor. It only takes one break in the chain to leave us in ruin. Something must be done.” His face brightened up, filled with energy. “Here, though? The Montaignards have no king. Even the man they’re named for is hardly more than a figurehead. Indeed, he scarcely seems to be involved at all. And the name itself is an invention, an expression of common birth and universal symbols.”

“Pleased you think so highly of us.” And apparently less highly of Fernan, though I doubt he’d care.

“Indeed!” He sighed. “If only I were not stuck on this assignment. It is so rare to see peasants with a monopoly on any kind of force, let alone machines advanced enough that even one could fell a high priestess at her moment of victory.”

Florette laughed, thinking of Camille’s likely reaction to someone impressed that she got shot. “If you think that’s impressive, you should see what they did to Glaciel. The Montaignards brought her to a standstill, to the point I could beat her in a duel.”

“You dueled the Queen of Winter and survived?”

“Won. Thanks to Corro and the Montaignards.” I’m making them sound like a group of traveling players. “I had a lot of help stealing the weapons in the first place, too, but that crew mostly stayed back in Malin. They didn’t have as much scrutiny on them, since I was the only one whose identity was discovered.”

Unbidden, Eloise’s parting words forced themselves to her mind.

You know why I’m staying and you have to leave? Because you got fucking seen! The Captain of the Guardians knows your face because you couldn’t keep it together for two minutes in the middle of a job without killing someone. And for what? You accomplished nothing.

“Honestly, assassinating the governor might have been a mistake. It’s not like his wife was any better. But I wasn’t thinking.”

“I—” Mouth wide open, Maxime couldn’t seem to stop blinking. “You impress me more by the minute, fair demoiselle.”

“Well, I do it all for you.” Turning towards the water, Florette couldn’t help but roll her eyes. You wouldn’t be so impressed if you realized how haphazard it all was. I nearly died a dozen times over. “Come on, you have a Captain to meet.”

“Uh… Of course.”

Fortunately there wasn’t far to go, by that point, all the more so now that moving around outside wasn’t such a frigid, hazardous affair. The snowmelt did have an effect of its own, though, if the extremely high tide was anything to go by.

Rushing streams from the street and mountains crossed across the beach at such size and speed that it rivaled the Sartaire, and the water line was higher besides.

I suppose that’s what happens in a time that’s sort of summer, sort of winter, and sort of spring. Hopefully it would all balance out in time for a normal autumn.

The Seaward Folly had transformed so dramatically that Florette almost didn’t recognize it, covered in metal plating like the boats from the Foxtrap, a massive wedge at the front to presumably break through any sheets of ice in front of it. Alongside the mast ran a metal pipe that stretched up past the rigging, a decidedly mechanical touch for a sailing ship.

Either they stole more plans from Avalon, or Blaise rigged this up all on his own. Either way, impressive. Even if it did make the ship far uglier.

Once inside, though, things looked much the same as they had before, down to the way the hammocks hung down from the ceiling in the main gathering room. This time, the room was mostly empty, the pirates probably enjoying their time ashore in a friendly port. No need to hide from Magnifico or sequester their ship under the water.

Captain Verrou was here, though, speaking with the shipmaster, Cordelia. His voice fell to a hush when he saw Florette and Maxime walk in, the conversation dying before Florette could catch a word of it.

“Thank you, Cordelia. I’ll take this from here.” Verrou pressed a hand to her shoulder and smiled, waiting for her to excuse herself before continuing. “It’s good to see you alive, Florette. I was worried you’d been caught with Elizabeth and the others on Eloise’s ship.”

“Didn’t make it that far,” Florette said honestly. “Eloise dropped me in Malin before her little crewmate kerfuffle. She’s alive too, by the way. When Elizabeth mutinied, El and Prince Luce got tossed from the boat. They had to wander their way through Refuge eating nothing but fish for weeks, but they made it.” As little consideration as Eloise deserved, telling Verrou where to find her was just basic decency. “She’s in Malin, if you’re looking for her.”

“So I thought, but it’s good to hear confirmation.” Verrou stroked his chin. “For all her limitations, I do wish her well, though I can’t expect you to feel the same way. And I know that Jacques will take care of her, in his own way.”

Should I say anything? Put like that, why should Florette hold her tongue? “I wouldn’t be so sure. He ordered an Acolyte’s death just for helping me steal something, when he was all ready to get out of town and lay low. Not to mention, Claude wouldn’t have said anything even if they caught him.”

“I don’t doubt it. Jacques is… also limited, in many ways. But he cares about Eloise more than anything. If she wants to go back to counting his ill-gotten coppers, that’s her choice.” He shrugged, smiling. “She’s allowed to choose wrong, Florette. Perhaps some day she’ll even realize she did. But it’s not our duty to save her from herself.”

“That…” Why do I feel better? “Thanks, Captain Verrou.” Suddenly, she realized that Maxime had just been awkwardly standing there. And I promised him an introduction, too. “And let me introduce Maximilien of the Pointe, emissary of the Exile Queen.” She turned to the infiltrator in question, shrinking back from her point. “Maxime, this is Captain Robin Verrou, whom I believe needs no introduction.”

Maxime nodded hurriedly. “My apologies, Captain Verrou. I remained silent, as I was entirely unaware of what you and the lady here were talking about. If you wish to discuss anything further without me, I have no objection to waiting outside.”

“After,” Verrou said. What does he want to say to me that he can’t in front of Maxime? “First, your mission.”

“Yes. I’ve been rapt with anticipation, wondering what it could be.”

“How is your Avaline?” Verrou asked in Avalon’s tongue. “An accent won’t necessarily be ruinous, but the smoother you sound, the better.”

“I read more,” Maxime said in Avaline that even Florette could tell was slightly awkward. “I liked to go read ancient texts in Condorcet, and the exiled village had Avaline books also.”

Verrou didn’t wince too obviously, but Florette could not manage the same.

“I can practice on the ship. You speak Avaline. You can help.” His face twisted as he switched back to Imperial. “That is, if you do not mind assisting me in such a fashion. I did not realize that I would be underqualified, and had no intent to create issues for you, Captain Verrou. I assure you, I shall be naught be studious for the duration of the trip. I want to complete this task as efficiently, rapidly, and thoroughly as possible, whatever it may be.”

“Hmm…”

“I have not had the opportunity to converse with a native speaker, so I have no doubt that under your tutelage, I shall excel.”

“You don’t really look like Savian either, though I doubt most Cambrians would really know the difference. The hair’s not bad, but you’re a bit too pale and bulky for anyone to really believe it if they saw you next to each other.”

“I beg your pardon, Captain Verrou?”

“Right.” Verrou clapped his hands together. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Maxime, and I’m sure that you will rise to the challenge. Your mission is one of long-term infiltration into Avalon. You will be posing as the son of Count Srin Savian, attending the Cambrian College. We’ve taken care of all the documents and your admission, but you must play your part flawlessly, or our best source on the inside of Avalon will be compromised, and we’d risk losing years of work.”

“Years…” Maxime’s eyes were wide. “I didn’t think…”

“Count Savian is ashore, but I believe you can find him in the Singer’s Lounge. Speak with him as much as possible, follow his mannerisms, and above all, master the tongue. We don’t have long before the term begins, and it will be suspicious if you arrive late.”

Maxime turned pleadingly to Florette, but he didn’t—perhaps couldn’t—voice any concerns. A moment later, he was gone.

“Seems like a nice kid,” Verrou said. “I’m sure he’ll figure it out in time. The Exile Queen wouldn’t have sent him if she didn’t think he was up to it.”

I think the issue was more the timeframe, not ability. Though he had a fair way to go there, too. “What did you want to talk to me about, Captain Verrou?”

“Ah yes, that. I’m given to understand that the bard Magnifico is being held captive at Château d’Oran. Is that still correct?”

Florette laughed. “You figured out he’s King Harold, too?”

Verrou smiled. “He was an old friend, believe it or not. Before he was Magnifico, he was Prince Harry, and a better man than I. How things must have changed…” He trailed off wistfully. “I was hoping to pay him a visit, and I’d rather not go through the Fox-King to arrange it. You wouldn’t happen to know any discreet methods to arrange such a thing, would you?”

Well, this sure is convenient for you. “I just saw him a few days ago. Unofficially. I can get you in.”

“Excellent!” Verrou clapped her on the back gently, his hand warm and inviting. “Would you care to lead the way?”

That depends, Florette thought, returning her captain’s embrace. Are you planning to kill him?