Chapter 104
Chapter 104
Something sparkled in the sky already turning black, the last rays of sun still dulling out the stars. It looked like a falling star tearing dusk toward Chambert. Everyone followed Germon to the top of one of the towers. Chambert, Tuen and all the refugees from Baynard were on the walls.
‘It’s a war train,’ said the Eslarian.
The black and red train whistled in a grave note that reminded of Anjarian ships, then hovered over Chambert, in front of the tower where Pierre stood. Frederico, in hus full colors, leaned on the window with a little dog on his shoulder. The dog had a coat of short, brown, black and white hair.
‘Where is Neville?’ asked the prince.
The black archer took a step forth.
‘I would like to apologize,’ said the prince, ‘for accusing you of my brother’s murder.’
‘No need to apologize. I would have killed Faus if I could.’
Frederico nodded and the train arched away from Chambert, made a circle in the air above Patire’s frantic army, and landed on the road between Fulbert and Pierre.
Patirean soldiers surrounded Frederico as soon as he came down from the locomotive, which shone bright in the bleeding sunset. Frederico stood in front of a young black soldier.
‘I know you. You are still alive. Tell me your name.’ He saw surprise on the young man’s face, which reminded him of how he had interrupted the young soldier on that night at the edge of the Fountain of Stories. Such a long time ago. ‘Things change. Let no more waves of useless death erase the faces we know. Tell me your name.’
‘It is Leon, my Prince.’ He couldn’t decide what to stare at: Frederico or the little dog wagging her tail like crazy on the prince’s shoulder.
Frederico turned to the soldier beside Leon.
‘Tell me your name.’
‘Théodore, my Prince.’
‘Arnauld.’
‘Etiénne.’
Frederico memorized every name. Leon touched the prince’s elbow reverently. He was afraid of touching anybody from the Patirean Royal Family, but he had to know id that man, if that hero was solid.
‘You are alive,’ said Leon.
‘Where are the king and queen?’
‘I will take you to them,’ Leon said but didn’t move. He was still holding the prince’s elbow, but he stared at the red train. ‘How is this possible?’
The little dog barked and the train huffed.
‘Magic and dreams seem to have a lot in common,’ said Frederico. ‘Take me to Margot and Fulbert.’
They walked in silence, but Leon kept darting looks at the prince.
‘You weren’t this shy last time we met,’ said Frederico. ‘But you hadn’t surved under Fulbert yet, had you? It is fine, Leon, ask me whatever you want.’
Leon hesitated yet a moment, then he couldn’t hold himself:
‘Where have you been?’
‘Lost.’
‘Are you here to support your father?’
‘I have no father.’
Frederico, the Weak. Heads turned at his passage, his name repeated in whispers, soldiers followed him to the middle of the camp, where a dais hd been raised for Fulbert and Margot.
The king leaned on a table, studying a map, and the only indication that he had noticed the red train was a drop of sweat on his forehead. Sitting beside him was withered Margot. Frederico went up the dais and she stood up. Soldiers surrounded the royal family. The ones who stood farther away poked the soldiers in front of them.
‘What is going on?’
‘Nothing,’ said disse Leon.
‘What’s happening now?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Still nothing?’
‘I’ll let you know when something happens.’
Frederico’s plan was simply to die. His death was the only possible end to that excursion. He would make Fulbert kill him in front of everyone, after shouting that the king had murdered Faust. That would cause a revolt. After all, who didn’t want to revolt against Fulbert?
However, no one had ever rebelled.
Queen Margot put her hands on her belly, as though she couldn’t figure out that last son there, all grown up, disappeared and reappeared outside her worn out womb. King Fulbert beckoned for Leon to come closer, whispered an order at his ear. The soldier went away, leaving king, queen and Frederico staring at each other. Disinherited parents, antithesis son. The young black soldeir came back with a sword, knelt in front of Frederico, offered the weapon to the prince. Faust’s sword.
‘Don’t die,’ asked Leon. His voice was so low that Frederico barely heard it.
Don’t die?
‘You need a sword to serve a king,’ saiddisse Fulbert.
Don’t die?
Frederico picked up the sword, pulled it slowly out of the sheath. The blade met the setting sun with a sigh.
‘Tell me how Faust died,’ said Frederico.
‘Like a warrior.’
The little dog growled at Frederico’s feet. Behind them, the locomotive left the ground.
‘Who killed hime?’ Frederico turned the blade, the sun tinted it red.
King Fulbert said:
‘Kneel.’
All the soldiers held their breaths, just as tense as Leon kneeling beside Frederico. No one spoke, but they all begged. Don’t die.
‘It was you who killed Faust,’ Frederico told his father.
‘It was the Baynardians,’ yelled the king. ‘I will kill them. Every single one of them. Then I will rule over all of Franária. It is time this place bowed to a real King. There can only be one crown.’
‘It was you who killed Faust,’ said Frederico.
Margot, grey ad withered, came closer to Frederico
‘My son,’ her lips said but her voice didn’t come out.
Frederico couldn’t tell if she was talking to him or to Faust. Maybe Margot didn’t know the truth. Something in her eyelashes made Frederico think of a tear, but Margot didn’t cry. There stood her last living son and he could kneel or die while she watched.
The last choice she had given to her last son now growled at Frederico’s feet. No, Margot had never given Frederico a choice. It was Pierre. The little dog was there because of Pierre. The Eliana hovered over them because the little dog had enough magic in her to feed a war train.
It was all Pierre.
Frederico lowered Faust’s sword, put it on the ground.
‘I am not a warrior,’ he tolf Fulbert. ‘You killed the warrior back in the Oltiens.’
Pierre yanked the dog from the eternal nightmare. Pierre changed the nightmare. Frederico looked at the soldiers around the dais. Tense. They were afraid, not that something happened, but that nothing changed. Frederico came here expecting them to raise against the king of Patire. If he died, he would be no different than any of his brotheres. Nothing would change. It wasn’t he that needed the soldiers to rebel. It was the other way around.
While Frederico realised all those things, Fulbert took up his own sword and maimed the air with it.
‘If you are not a warrior, your are useless.’
The crowd stirred as the king charged, Leon jumped to his feet. There was blood. Whose blood was it? They couldn’t see. The ones standing at the back stood on their toes, trying to make sense of that red spike that suddenly surged from queen Margot’s back.
Her arms were open, making a barrier between the king and Frederico. She tried to speak and her voice ran down her chin.
Fulbert cried in despair, pulled back the sword that should have killed his son but killed Margot instead. She fell, lifeless, but her eyes shone like Frederico had never seen them snide before. And they shone for him.
Fulbert charged toward Frederico. The little dog barked and the king’s sword hit black stell. The train hovered over Frederico’s head, protecting him.
‘I don’t want to kill you,’ Frederico said, ‘even though you deserve to die. You cannot be king of Franária.’
Fulbert raised his sword again, the dog growled, and the train pulsed, throwing the king far away from Frederico. Then, Leon grabbed Faust’s sword and, before Fulbert could recover his balance, Leon swept the head from the royal neck. In the same swif circling motion, Leon turned to Frederico and knelt. The King’s head still rolled on the ground when the black soldier, his head lowered at Frederico’s feet, shouted (because speaking couldn’t be enough):
‘If you do not wish to kill, I will kill for you.’
Another soldier, Theodore, stepped onto the dais:
‘I will kill for you, sir!’
‘And I,’ said Arnauld, Etienne, one by one the soldiers of Patire knelt to the King of Patire.