Laura IV: The Missile

Laura took a ship out of Gaume, Condillac’s capital across the strait. Torpierre had ample facilities, but the longer she lingered, the higher the risk of her parents discovering what she’d done.

Laura had had half a mind to lift a heavy purse from some forgotten corner of the Stone Tower, unlikely to be missed, but that would have meant risking someone seeing her and telling her parents.

Even though they were who they were, that wasn’t a fight she wanted. Valentine deserved better for one thing, and it wasn’t worth the time, for another.

Far better to simply never see them again.

Valentine had decided the issue for her, though, waiting on the path with a bag of florins and a face of stone. “I’m glad you’re alive,” she’d said, a hint of melancholy in her voice.

Laura had told her about the fight, since she didn’t want to leave her sister blind, and had even gotten a smile when she’d mentioned telling Tauroneo what a dullard their brother was. Not that it was likely to change anything, but it was nice to leave on something resembling a positive interaction with family. Soleil knows there’s been few enough of those over the years.

Passage aboard the Valient Heart had cost over three hundred florins, which was probably more than a pirate would have charged for the privilege, but at least the accommodations were comfortable. Laura had a chamber to herself with a decent view of the water, and supped with the captain for her meals. She even had a decent selection of wine to pair with it.

Considering the fact that bulkhead passage would have still been eighty-five, Laura considered it money well spent. Especially since she was healing so cleanly from the Tauroneo fight. She’d been a bit worried about her leg healing out of place, but staying off it, as painful as that was, meant that within a few days, she was walking without a limp. After a few days of fresh air, her lungs even breathed smoothly enough for her to feel comfortable rolling her papers again.

Aside from diverting around an Autumn storm, which had added an extra few days to the journey, passage to Dorseille was largely uneventful. The real issue was once Laura got there.

“What do you mean you won’t go past Lyrion? It’s such a basic trip. Even if your ship is terrible, you can just hug the coast. I’m willing to pay.”

The Dorseille dockyard was abuzz with activity, making up for time lost in darkness. But all the ships departing seemed to be headed south, which didn’t bode well.

The captain wrinkled his nose at the insult. “The waters are not the issue, fool. Don’t you know there’s a war going on? Avalon’s got more ships in the Lyrion sea than it has fishes, and they don’t look too kindly on any of us they come across. My mate just got here from Villeneuve, said they were stopping every ship they could see, confiscating all the cargo and tossing off anyone who objected too strongly. They say near Refuge the water is black with the soot of their fire magic. My cousin does a loop down to Serpichon every year, supposed to be back weeks ago, and I still haven’t heard anything.”

“Well, but—”

“The answer is no, girl. No sense in risking that when there’s plenty of money to be made on this coast. Always liked the west side better anyway.” The captain waved his hand to shoo her away.

“Damn it!” Scowling, Laura turned from him and left. That had been the sixth one she’d spoken with, and all of them had said some variation of the same thing, and refused any amount of florins she could offer. Nor had brandishing Aurelian’s sword yet been sufficient to assure any of them that she could keep the crew safe. Even the ones that had believed her hadn’t wanted to antagonize Avalon if they could avoid it, feckless money grubbers that they were.

Eventually, she settled for the ferry to Île Dimanche, just across the Coulée Bleue. Formally, it remained a sovereign city-state, but what Avalon asked for, it got. If King Harold asked its Countess to jump into the sea, her only question would be which waters to drown herself in.

But in this case, being under Avalon’s thumb was an asset to Laura, since it meant a higher chance they’d have a ship with the credentials to bypass the Avaline navy’s ‘inspections’. There was no chance that Avalon was confiscating supplies from its own merchant vessels, and it wasn’t hard to imagine one of them stopping further east on their way back to their grim motherland.

The streets in Dimanche were eerily quiet, even granting that it was raining. Laura wanted to leave the docks before securing the next leg of the trip, but the contrast with Dorseille was stark. The harbor was full, to be sure, but the returning ferry was the only thing not moored in place.

A quick consultation with some of the captains explained the issue: the Countess Dimanche had issued an order that no ship was to leave the harbor until further notice, earning the ire of Avaline merchants and honest ones alike. Goods were already starting to spoil in the holds, and half the people Laura talked too seemed ready to call the Countess’s bluff and leave anyway, betting that they could evade any pursuit.

This time, showing off her sword was enough to convince a captain to book her passage, provided she was willing to use it if anyone came after them.

Which I’d only relish anyway. The Countess Dimanche hadn’t herself surrendered to Avalon, but her father had, clinging to whatever hollow façade of power he could, and his heir had apparently seen little reason to buck the trend. She’d continued sending ships to Avalon on their way with nary an objection, even though they were practically stealing everything loaded into them.

Whatever she was playing at now, with this interdiction, it wouldn’t exactly be a tragedy if a few of her goons gave Laura an excuse to get better acquainted with her new sword.

It needs a name, she realized, gazing into the wispy green flame emanating from it. All the best swords did, from Micheltaigne’s Nuage Sombre to the Arboreum’s Perce-les-cieux to the Fox Queen’s own blade, Amitié. That one had been lost during the War of Three Cubs though, in the Third Battle of Malin.

Unless Camille got her talons on it. It had fallen into the bay, allegedly, and it would be like them to hoard it. Maybe Camille’d fall onto it by accident at some point, that was a nice thought.

The other feckless collaborator of the Foxtrap was Magister Jules Ticent of Charenton, so it was fitting that Laura was headed there next. That had been the furthest east she could get with any kind of alacrity, and it hadn’t felt worth it to book an inn for two weeks to wait for the ship headed to Porte Lumière.

Charenton would be fine. All she needed at that point was a boat headed down the Rhan, and she’d reach the fighting in no time.

Finding one, however, made the cowardice of Dorseille’s captains seem courageous by comparison. In Charenton, Avalon’s troops were camped right in the harbor, bundled aboard a glistening iron ship, and the Magister had been called to Cambria. ‘To his probable death,’ everyone who mentioned it had implied. Whatever obeisance they’d demanded from him in the darkness, apparently Ticent hadn’t delivered on it to their satisfaction.

That’s what you get for thinking you were too special for them to turn on you eventually, just the same as they have with everyone else. For all that Ticent was reputed to be smart, getting into bed with the panther was his original act of stupidity, so it was fitting that it’d be undoing him now.

In retrospect, I wonder if Dimanche was in a similar position. It would explain the strange embargo at the harbor, at least. But she won’t last forever. The White Otter had delivered Laura to Charenton, but it had also carried its crew. If Dimanche didn’t want word getting back to Avalon about her malfeasance, she was apparently too late.

And I helped make it happen, Laura thought with a smile. A part of her, briefly, considered simply staying in occupied territory and making a ruckus from within. The various governors certainly seemed in a precarious enough position that it would only take a good poke to send it all crashing down.

But revenge was beneath her, or she’d be going after Fernan. Pointless. Futile. And Ticent’s crimes were abstract ones, rather than anything that had ever affected Laura personally.

Better to go to the battlefield, where she could actually make a difference. My place is there.

Unfortunately, despite being only one final step away, actually getting to that place seemed nearly impossible, unless she planned on building a boat herself. These merchant ninnies were the worst yet, totally unwilling to go an inch down the Rhan. There were ferries over the river for the loggers, chopping down whatever remained of Cya’s forest, but Refuge and its environs were isolated, and the wasteland made even proceeding on foot impossible via that route.

It’s so stupid. Here she was, basically in Avalon’s pied-à-terre in the Empire, trying to get passage on a ship headed to a country they were actively at war with. The only boats Avalon would be sending to the Arboreum were the ones full of soldiers going there to burn it down.

Actually, that’s an idea…

Laura turned towards the metal ship, trying to move towards it inconspicuously, looking like she was on her way to something else.

Unfortunately, a pair was standing guard at the top of the gangplank, thwarting the easiest way to sneak on board. If she were a scoundrel like Leclaire, perhaps she’d march up to them with a mouth full of lies, but there was a more straightforward way to get on board a ship.

Moments later, a stack of crates was on fire, prompting hurried cries from the surrounding stevedores.

Come on… Laura started whistling, trying to act nonchalant, then stopped, because that wasn’t something people did when there was a fire. Instead, she just kept walking, slowly enough not to let the Avaline ship out of her sight.

People were running to put it out, trying to douse the crates, so Laura helped dissuade them with another fire on the docks themselves, more energy intensive for all their dampness, but the pitch helped keep it going once she made a bit of headway, and before long the flames were sustaining themselves.

With the sword, it didn’t even cost her much life.

It wasn’t long before her target poked his head up, a swooping figure in purple and black, a sour frown on his imperious face. As evil as Avalon was, it was still somewhat shocking to see this commander dressed up like the cackling sorcerer that dies at the end of the play. At his side was a sandy-haired lieutenant dressed all in black, her arms thick enough to be slightly jealous about.

Smiling, Laura ducked down, remaining out of sight as she listened in.

“This is a message,” the commander said grimly. “It’s no accident that it would happen now. It seems I’m not welcome here.”

“Then why set the fire so far down the dock?” the lieutenant asked. “We can be out on the water long before we’re in any danger.”

“Don’t be so sure that’s not just incompetence. It could be that that’s as close as they dared to get, or they got the ship wrong.” Hah! You wish!

“They got the ship wrong,” the lieutenant repeated flatly. “Despite it being clad in iron.” Her words hung in the air for a moment, before the commander spoke once more.

“Fair enough. If they saw the guards, keeping a bit of distance makes sense. Especially if Ticent is backing the insurgents. Set a few fires, deny everything, and if that’s not enough to get me to leave, turn up the pressure.”

“Ticent isn’t even here.”

“And you don’t think that’s more suspicious?”

“No, I agree. But if their leader is away, would they be bold enough to set a prince’s ship on fire without him?”

A prince… Interesting. It didn’t need to change the plan, though. As long as it spooked them enough to set sail, Laura could fly aboard as they sailed away and stow away without too much trouble. Maybe even kill a few guards, if the opportunity presented itself to do it cleanly.

“It could be the reason for keeping their distance. Provoking without any risk of harm.”

The lieutenant seemed to agree. “The Lyrion rebels were dead certain that Charenton was on their side. That means Ticent. As I see it, this half measure is only further evidence.”

“Then we’re agreed?”

“Yes. They want you to leave, but they’re not willing to force the issue. And Ticent is gone, either to Avalon to meet his fate, or, more likely, running to Leclaire. We won’t have a better opportunity.”

“Get twenty guards to disembark. We’re not going anywhere.”

Damn it! Why did they have to jump at shadows instead of making the obvious move? But if a closer inferno was they needed to push them over the edge, that could be arranged.

Laura slashed at the crates blocking her line of sight, creating a flaming X that quickly engulfed more of the wood. Shockingly quickly, really, but the strangely pleasant smell suggested containers of tallow inside, which would explain it.

“Get back belowdecks!” the lieutenant shouted.

Enough of her cover was on fire that Laura felt it better to leave, so she stood up and started walking briskly, hoping to escape notice.

Apparently she failed, because a booming sound split the air, louder than a thunderclap. Laura risked a look back and saw the lieutenant pointing a metal tube towards her. “Don’t move.”

A pistol, like Aurelian used. It has to be. It looked different from his, but the handle and barrel looked similar enough that it was impossible to imagine it was anything else. This weapon had single handedly won him a fight that he’d otherwise lost. It tore a hole in Leclaire in an instant, dropping her into a pool of her own blood.

A laugh escaped her mouth as Laura turned around, leveling her sword towards the lieutenant. “Nice pistol. I used to have a friend who had one.”

“Drop your sword,” she ordered.

“Don’t you want to hear what happened to him? It’s really interesting.”

“What happened?” the prince asked.

“Luce, don’t. Come on.”

“He became the sun and exploded. He died realizing his ambitions, but couldn’t last a moment beyond them.” Laura smiled at, apparently, Prince Luce, trying to unnerve him. And there wasn’t anything funny about it. “Way I hear it, your daddy was right there. He’s the one that plunged the world into darkness, and he murdered Duke Fouchand. And Aurelian Lumière, even though he’d done nothing but help him. It’s disgusting.”

“She’s Imperial,” the prince muttered. “Leclaire’s already sent them help.”

What the fuck did you just say? That insult demands blood.

“Drop the sword,” the lieutenant ordered again, ignoring her prince’s words.

“Make me,” Laura said, walking closer. At this point, her original plan wouldn’t exactly work, so she was just kind of improvising. It would probably be fine. “You look strong enough to put up a good fight. Draw yours.”

“I don’t need to. Do you know what this is?” The lieutenant pointed to her pistol with her opposite hand. “I can kill you from here just by squeezing my finger.” She had the pistol aimed right at Laura, banking on her ignorance.

But Aurelian showed me plenty. Those pistols could only fire once before needing another arrow put in their quiver, and the lieutenant had already used hers, with no signs that she’d touched it since.

Laura swung her sword above her head, growing the flame emanating out from it until the blade was twice as long, or at least its flames. Do you even know who you’re dealing with? I made an earth spirit surrender in a fight in a cave. She spun her sword, stoking the flames further, conjuring a multicolored mirage of red and green and blue, then swished it downwards, angling a crescent of flame towards—

Crack. The air split anew, and Laura realized her mistake, feeling her shoulder erupt with pain. She heard her sword clatter to the ground without consciously dropping it, slumping to her knees. Bastard had a second pistol…

Laura felt the darkness creep in around the sides of her eyes as she watched the prince and the lieutenant approach her.

“Find the best doctor in the city. We don’t want her dead before we can find out what she knows. If Camille sent other agents, we’re better off knowing about them. We need some idea of how deep this goes before I know the best way to respond.”

“At once. I’ll have your guard secure Charenton. With Ticent gone, they’ll have to obey. Defying us means open rebellion without him there to direct them, and with meager cause at that.”

“Good. Leave Sidney and the crew with seven guards aboard the ship, and have the rest assemble at the…” His words drifted away, somehow more distant even as he crept closer.

“Fuck…” Laura grunted, or tried to, as she felt herself slip away. “Fuck Leclaire…” I’m not here to do her dirty work, you pistol-wielding pricks. And if she woke up, she wasn’t going to tell them a damned thing. Let them draw their own conclusions and keep jumping at shadows.

As long as I wake up…

The last thing she saw was the lieutenant bending down, brandishing her smoking pistol.