Chapitre Cinq

Enfant de la Sorcière

Lucien

"Edmund, this is my eldest son, Leon," said Lucien, gesturing with his right hand. "I hope the two of you can be friends."

Leon stared with his mouth hanging open. Lucien would have reminded him to be mindful of his manners, rebuking him for staring, but under the circumstances he could understand it.

Edmund stood seven feet tall and was skinny as a rail. His ears were long and sharp, and his eyes were violet with what appeared to be a golden star around the pupils. His nose was wide and flat across his face, and his chin pointed. The hair upon his head fell like raven's feathers over his temples and forehead. His skin was gray, and his purple veins were visible underneath it. Both of his hands had not one but two thumbs each. Despite his lanky frame, his gut protruded as if he kept a bowling ball under his shirt. His feet, if one could call them that, were bare, and resembled those of an elephant: round and wide.

"Salut, Leon," said Edmund, his voice sounding almost like a caw of a crow.

Leon continued to stare in stunned silence.

Lucien walked over to Leon and wrapped his arm around his shoulder, jostling him lightly. "Son, Edmund just said salut. It's impolite for you to ignore him."

"Oh..." said Leon, shaking his head to recuperate. "Yes, bonjour."

"I'm glad you two could finally meet," said Lucien, patting Leon on the chest. "Edmund, Leon here is an athlete. He just finished playing a great game of polo."

"Did you win?" asked Edmund, looking Leon in the eye.

"What? Oh...yes, my team won. Thank you."

Edmund smiled, revealing his crooked teeth. "Good. I've read about polo. It seems like great fun."

"All of these books," Lucien said, gesturing to the shelves packed with leather-bound tomes, "are his. And he's read each of them, haven't you, Edmund?"

"That's true," said Edmund, reaching for a book on one of the highest shelves. "This one is my favorite, 'The Revenge of Marquis LaRue.' Thrilling! The Marquis is a genius!"

"Leon, haven't you read that one?" Lucien asked.

"...I have."

Edmund tilted his head. "Did the ending make you cry too?"

"It did," said Leon, starting to smile.

"More than cry," said Lucien. "I believe 'weep openly' better describes it."

"I too was sad to see the Marquis die the way he did," said Edmund, sliding the book back into its place. "But it was noble."

"He saved the Empire," said Leon, nodding in agreement.

"Indeed he did," said Edmund.

Lucien cleared his throat. "Edmund, Leon and I had better be going. Perhaps I'll return with a fresh new book for you to read."

Edmund smiled again and sat down on his bed. "I would like that. Thank you, Papa."

"Adieu," said Leon as he and Lucien left the room. Fitzroy closed the door behind them and locked it.

The two of them walked down the dark hallway together in total silence. Lucien could only imagine what Leon must have been thinking and feeling, and he braced for the slew of questions.

They were far down the hallway when finally Leon asked, "So, how long have you been hiding a witch-born in our home?"

"Ten years now," said Lucien. "Ever since I found him as a baby."

"He's only ten years old?" Leon practically shouted in disbelief.

Lucien motioned with his hands for Leon to keep his voice down. He kept his own voice low to encourage him to do the same, "Eleven, actually. Almost twelve."

"How did you find him?" Leon asked, barely above a whisper now.

Lucien glanced back and forth to make sure no one else was nearby, then began, "I was in Senon ten years ago for the Empress' wedding. The day before the wedding there was a witch trial. Some young woman was accused of trying to curse the Empress. Witnesses said that just days before they'd seen her with an infant. They asked her where she'd hidden her hell-spawned baby, but she claimed the child had died. I suppose several people believed her, but I was not one of them. Of course, those trials only ever end one way and I didn't have the heart to see it through. On my way from the courthouse I heard muffled crying coming from a pile of filthy clothes in an alleyway. And there it was, bundled up in all that filth... a baby. As far as I could tell the witch hid him there because it was the only hope he had of surviving, small as that hope may have been. Without either of us realizing it at the time, I was that hope. I smuggled him back home, and I've raised him ever since."

Leon's face was blank, almost unreadable. "You know what the Church says about witch-born..."

"Yes I do," said Lucien. He then mimicked a pompous-sounding priest as he quoted, "'Any child of a witch has the soul of a demon. They cannot be trusted. Do not suffer a witch-born to live!' Ridiculous!" Lucien rolled his eyes and shook his head. "I know you were in shock the first time you saw him, but next time you visit Edmund look into his eyes, listen to his voice and tell me he's a demon and not just a young boy! He feels, he thinks, he loves, he hates, he laughs, and he cries, just like you and I do."

"Don't misunderstand me," said Leon, raising his hands defensively. "I don't disapprove at all! I'm just... surprised."

"Why would the ruthless Duke Lucien take in a witch-born?" Lucien asked. He could see that his words stung; that was exactly what Leon was thinking. "Witch-born like him are a big part of the reason I do what I do."

"I don't understand," said Leon.

"I'm part of a.... secret collective, if you will. I work with other nobles to protect witch-born. We work towards a singular goal: reforming the Empire's laws regarding their kind."

"Who else is part of this secret collective?" Leon asked, his eyebrows raised in doubt.

"Do you think they ever would have allowed me in if they thought I couldn't at least keep that secret?" Leon rolled his eyes as he usually did when Lucien quipped without just answering him. A reflex to be sure, Lucien made an effort to put it away for now, "Look, I've placed a lot of trust in you by revealing this little secret. I trust that you would never wittingly betray me, but... well, you're terrible at the game, and someone could weasel the secret out of you. If they do I want to be the only one who suffers the consequences."

"I understand. Sorry." Leon's flat, careless response made Lucien's blood surge.

"You understand what this means?" asked Lucien, stopping abruptly and pointing a finger at Leon's face. "You tell no one about this. Not your friends, not even Magnus. For that matter you don't even tell anyone else in this very family; not Cecile, not Beatrice, not Andre, no one, understand?"

"You don't trust any of them?" asked Leon, lifting his hands to belay the tension.

Lucien grabbed at his cuffs and reset his collar, "It's not that I don't trust them, it's that this secret is too heavy a burden for them. They'd spend every moment of every day in fear of being caught. You, on the other hand, are far braver than they. I believe you can handle it."

Leon chuckled. "Considering how often you've reminded me how bad I am at Le Jeu Fatal..."

"As a sportsman, you should know that a practiced athlete is no match for one with inborn skill," said Lucien. "You are no prodigy of The Game, but you possess the qualities to succeed. If I did not believe that, I wouldn't have suggested you marry Corina. Think about it; if I thought you had no potential would I have really started work on a scheme to make you duke over both our lands and Armand's?"

"I suppose not..."

Lucien clasped both of his son's shoulders. "I say the things I do to drive you to do better, because I believe that one day you may become one of the best. Especially now that you understand the stakes." Lucien released his son's shoulders and stared up at the ceiling. "Right now... as it stands, the Church encourages everyone in the Empire to kill witch-born when they see them." Lucien shook his head in disgust. "That's awful enough. But worse yet, there is talk amongst the bishops, and even from the cardinal himself, of creating a special order to hunt the witch-born."

Lucien sighed and looked down. "When I first took Edmund in I thought things couldn't get any worse for witch-born. I was wrong. Church mystics have researched ways to sense the presence of witch-born. There are others like me all over the Empire, hiding witch-born and keeping them alive. Then there are those witch-born who are hiding by themselves. If the Church starts this new order they'll exterminate every witch-born in the Empire, and hang everyone who harbored them."

Leon had been slowly turning white the whole time Lucien told him this. "How do we stop this from happening?"

"Well, to start, you need to get close to Corina," said Lucien. "Think about it, my boy. Who has more connections with the Church than any other nobleman?"

"Duke Jehan..."

"Exactly!" Lucien pointed both index fingers at Leon. "He has brothers, nephews and nieces, cousins, uncles, and friends all throughout the Church. Moreover, he's provided them with soldiers and funding. Some of the more remote churches are so afraid of the communities of witches hiding in the shadows all around them that they would do anything to keep his support. But the Duke cannot live forever, and he has no son to inherit his title. If you marry his oldest daughter you become his heir, and once you take over his assets..."

"I can pull the strings in the Church," said Leon, cracking a smile.

"Exactly!" Lucien said, practically dancing. "See! You get it! This is the game I've been playing!"

Leon nodded, his smile fading into a solemn expression. "I understand. I still don't like what you do, destroying people's lives, blackmailing them, lying, and so on. But... I can at least agree that marrying Corina would save lives."

"That's good to hear," said Lucien. "Now, off with you. Get to your studies. If you intend to woo fair Corina, you'd best be familiar with the Hymns and all that they teach."

Leon paused for a moment, seemingly unhappy about stopping their discussion. Still he nodded and walked away.

Lucien smiled to himself as he walked back to the foyer. After nineteen years it seemed he was finally getting through to the boy. Perhaps Leon wasn't doomed to die in Le Jeu Fatal, as he'd long thought. Little by little he would get through to him. Every day he'd work towards making his eldest son the master player that he himself had learned to be.

Shouting from outside snapped Lucien back to reality. He looked out the window to see Andre running back to the front door in a panic, with a young man chasing after him. Andre's pursuer was bigger than he, and he picked up and threw stones at Andre the whole time.

Lucien hurried down to burst out the front door. Seamlessly in time with the smashing sound of his expulsion, he drew a pistol from within his coat, and aimed it at the young man. "Arrêtez! Halt! Not another step!"

The young man saw the pistol pointed at him and stopped dead in his tracks. Andre stumbled up to the doorstep, a trickle of blood running down his face and bruises on his cheek and neck.

Even with a brief inspection, Lucien could see the marks on his neck were not actually bruises... Not the kind made by propelled stones.

"What's going on here?" Lucien demanded.

The young man dropped the round weapons in his hands and sneered at Andre. "That vile connard deflowered my sister! I'll kill him!"

"You'll do no such thing!" Lucien shouted. "Andre, is this true? Were you caught in bed with this man's sister?"

"Well... not exactly in bed per se..."

"Spare me the details!" Lucien shook his head. How many times had he reminded Andre to never get caught? Something like this was a grave insult to the young man's family, and gave him grounds to...

"I challenge thee!" shouted the young man, throwing a white glove at Andre's feet.

Damn it! Lucien turned to the young man, "Boy, I assume you know that, by law, only a lord may challenge a lord to a duel? From what house do you hail?"

"I am Émile of House Bourdon," said the young man. "My father is Count Bertrand Bourdon. While we stayed in the home of a merchant prince with whom my father was conducting business this obsédé came by and seduced my sister!" Émile pointed an accusing finger at Andre. "I want his head!"

"I hate to be the one to tell you this," said Andre, wiping the blood from his head with a smirk on his face, "But she was deflowered long before I plucked her."

Émile shouted a string of profanities at Andre and looked like he was about to lunge at him, but Lucien stepped in the way and reminded him of the gun.

Young Lord Bourdon backed up, paced back and forth for a moment, and then said, "My challenge is legal! Choose the terms of our duel."

Andre pushed himself to his feet, trying to hide the terrified look in his eyes.

Lucien whispered to him, "Can you fight him?"

Andre shook his head and whispered back, "Émile Bourdon is known as a great fencer, and he's good with a pistol, too."

"Do you need me to act as your champion?" Lucien asked, still in a hushed tone. He would have preferred Fitzroy act as Andre's champion. The young lord wouldn't stand a chance against him, but the law of the land dictated that only an immediate family member could step in for someone challenged to a duel.

"I don't know..." Andre said, rubbing his head. "Could you beat him?"

"I'm not a bad shot myself," said Lucien.

"I'll act as his champion!" came Leon's voice from behind both of them.

Lucien and Andre both looked up as Leon emerged from the house with an épée strapped to his belt. "The terms are thus; we fight with épées, and we do so right here, in front of my father's mansion."

Émile suddenly looked less confident as the tall, athletic Leon stepped forth to protect his brother. "We cannot duel here and now," said the young lord. "I have no second to ensure that the fight is fair."

"Then run back home," spat Leon. "Find your father, or your friends, or whomever you can find who will act as your second. Once you've returned, we will duel. Or you can always retract your challenge."

"My sister has been dishonored," said Émile as he glared at Andre. "A Renart will bleed for this!"

"If you insist," said Leon. "I'll be waiting."

Émile walked back to his horse, whom he'd left just outside the open gates of the estate, climbed onto its back, and rode away.

Leon turned to Andre. "Did you really seduce his sister?"

"In my opinion we seduced each other," said Andre, wiping more blood from his head.

"If you weren't already injured I'd slap you," said Leon, rolling his eyes.'

Lucien's hand swatted Andre on the back of his head. "Better you feel the pain of stupidly getting caught. Now your brother will incur your punishment."

"Leon," said Andre, "What you did just now... thank you. Are you sure you can-"

"Come," Lucien interrupted, "Let's tend to your wounds."