Bird In A Cage

### Summary

Searching further in his recruitment drive for the blades, Etienne returns to the dwelling of his old comrade, the Viscount La Fontaine in order to request his aid once more. Little does he know the twist of fate this will ensure...

No matter how far from Paris one strayed, it seemed like none could escape the acrid stench the city carried. l'Armand had made his way to the outer gates, and was greeted by the sight of at least four guards, two on the ground and two in the overlooking rampart towers. While Paris was not an ironclad fortress, it was well protected, with four gates that served as entrances and exits to the city, each guarded by a small group and barring access either way with heavy portcullises. Entry and exit was granted or refused based on purpose and status, especially at night when the rules became even stricter, and special authorisation usually had to be granted to pass. Fortunately, l'Armand now carried a seal of the Cardinal, granting him access to move freely, among other things. Still atop his horse, he presented the writ to one of the guards, who looked over it before nodding and handing it back to the old soldier, craning his neck to a colleague atop the tower.

“Open the gates!” he shouted. There was the noise of a lever cranking, and the portcullis slowly rose, before l'Armand tipped his hat at the guards and passed through at a slow canter. His reason for travelling beyond was known only to him, as it was not only secretive in nature, but also not a task he relished. In the clandestine meeting with Richelieu, the Cardinal had made it clear that this time round, l'Armand would not be outfitted with a troop of the King's elite, and would have to find his own band to aid him. The blades he had known and led were no more, most of them long dead, at the hands of one of their own no less. The villain had long since fled from Paris, most likely under the guise of a new identity, but there was yet one other who remained of the original shadow guard. l'Armand however, did not think that he would be immediately keen at the notion of retaining his old allegiances.

The journey outside of Paris did not take him long, but led up to a grand estate on the outskirts of the city, nestled in an enclosed wooded area. L'Armand knew it well, having once upon a time been a regular visitor and honoured guest within the walls. Though that almost seemed an age ago now.

The estate was that of the Vicomte Raymondin la Fontaine, a once famed chevalier who had abandoned any presence he once had within the military and Royal court. He, as well as l'Armand, had suffered losses as a result of their past, but whereas the captain had lost his prestige altogether, Raymondin had retained his title and wealth.

Travelling up the long path, l'Armand's thoughts were full of doubts and second guesses. While they had once been the firmest of friends, brothers even, and had fought together side-by-side in many a conflict, the betrayal and disbandment of the blades had shattered their friendship, and neither had seen nor spoken to the other in seven years now. And here he was, coming to ask Raymondin to step back into the life that tore them apart. It was a mistake, and he knew it, yet what other choice did he have? So far, he had at his side to combat this menace a ragtag bunch of individuals who had likely never even seen military action in their lives. If he could just persuade Raymondin that the danger they faced threatened them all, maybe all would be well. Just maybe. He arrived in the large courtyard at the front of the estate, the layout ghostly familiar to him, as if nothing had changed yet it was akin to a vision of memory only. The grand fountain still stood in the center, bubbling away and uninterrupted by the flow of time.

As he approached, a valet bowed to him, while l'Armand lowered himself from his horse and allowed it to be taken to the stables.

“Water and food for him if you will monsieur.” He bowed his head towards the valet, who bowed lower in turn, before leading his charge away. l'Armand stared at the grand house in front of him and gave a painful sigh, slowly making his way to the doors, which were opened by two servants, before he stepped into the atrium, where he was greeted by another, but clearly more high ranking servant.

“Greetings monsieur. May I be of service?” His tone was polite yet firm, warm yet wary. And so it should be. This man was obviously charged with the first line of entry, and could not accept merely any stranger wishing to enter the la Fontaine dwelling. l'Armand could not remember the man from before, so safe to say he had been recruited in the time between and did not recognise the old soldier.

“Merci monsieur. I am afraid I do not come with an invitation, but it is of importance that I must speak with the Vicomte. He and I are old.....acquaintances, and I come with a matter which much be discussed in private.” He removed his hat and clutched it to his chest as the man looked him up and down, with an expression somehow both soft and stern, as if looking into l'Armand's soul and deciphering his trustworthiness. He would already be able to attain that the soldier before him was of pedigree, by his clothes and weapon alone, if not his mannerism and body language.

“Your name monsieur?” Etienne gulped, although unnoticeable to any but the most eagle eyed.

“l'Armand. Etienne du l'Armand, former acquaintance and comrade of the Vicomte.” The name must have been at least familiar to the servant, as his gaze betrayed a hint of disapproval. He paused, as if debating what to do in his mind, before motioning towards another passing servant of the household. “Duboit, please stand in to greet any guests in my absence. I will be accompanying monsiuer l'Armand to the master's study.” The second servant nodded, and took the place of his superior, as the first led l'Armand up the grand staircase and through the main building. The walk was almost eerily silent, before they stood outside a set of oaken doors, the entrance to Raymondin's study. How many times had the two of them spent in that room, whether devising strategies or celebrating victories and recounting tales, laughing over glasses of wine?

“Before you enter monsieur.” the servant began. “I know it is not my place to dictate the ongoings of my betters, but the Vicomte is a.....different man now. You may not receive the answers that you are looking for.” With that, he rapped politely on the door. “A visitor for you my lord.” There was a brief pause before a weary voice came from the other side.

“Enter.” The doors were slowly pushed open, revealing a room full of scrolls and books, comfortable chairs and chaises, antique globes and even a telescope located next to the window that looked out over the complex's main courtyard. Raymondin was sat at his desk, his head down and gazing at a series of parchments as he was putting quill and ink to the pages. It was only once l'Armand had entered his head rose, and his formerly expressionless face soon turned to one of contorted yet controlled anger.

“Laurent, you will escort monsieur l'Armand from the premises and ensure he is never welcomed again.” His voice was balanced yet full of rage, prompting the servant to move towards l'Armand. The old soldier however, was undeterred.

“Raymondin, I would not have come if it wasn't of a vital nature. Will you not hear me out at least, before you cast me from your gaze?” His words seemed to stop Laurent dead in his tracks, as if the man knew not which orders to follow now, or the whim that would strike his master. Raymondin returned to his writings.

“You and I have nothing to discuss Etienne, and you are not welcome here, nor have you been since that day. To assume otherwise only serves to reinforce the notion that your arrogance blinds you as ever before. Now leave, before I throw you out myself. Raymondin spoke once more with grace, but the underlying tone could not have been any more clear.

“The blades have been reformed under direct order of the Cardinal.” l'Armand began before further action could be taken. “The Dark Claw threatens France more than ever now. We stopped them before Raymondin, we can do it agai...” His words were cut short as Raymondin suddenly stood from his desk, planting his hands firmly upon the carved wood and causing the papers to ruffle.

“What blades Etienne?” There was now clear fury in his voice. “The blades are dead and gone, pawns to the machinations of your beloved master! That man took everything from us, and when we had expended all we could, he tossed us aside like an old glove. Have you not forgotten the fates of your men, of your OWN SON??!!” His voice had become raised, as he caught himself, sitting down and regaining his senses. “I have lost too much in the name of the Cardinal and the King. I will lose no more. Whatever bond we once shared has been severed beyond salvage, and I will not return to the life which caused so much pain. If you wish to lick the boots of the very one responsible for your downfall, then by all means, be my guest. But I shall have no part in this fools errand.”

Laughter rang throughout the flowering field, two horses and their riders zipping past a third mounted figure. Words of playful, challenging banter floated on the wind as the two previously racing riders pranced back to the shade.

"I won and you know it! My nose passed the tree three whole seconds before your stinky mares did!" Said the brown-haired, pale green-eyed boy. The smaller carrot-topped boy stuck out his tongue as he retorted.

"Nu-uh. I was able to look back and see your ugly mug the whole race." More banter ensued until the boys reached the lone figure, who was doing their best to hide an amused smile.

"So who won, Domi? It was me right?" They questioned in unison. Domi, or Dominique, was the boy's older sister, and current babysitter. Large forest green eyes looked off as if pondering their inquiry before with a straight and serious expression she made her verdict.

"Bartholomew, Conrrart, I believe you tied." Both boys let out a breath of disappointment and then pouted, turning their steeds to follow their sister home. It was a quiet return, both boys knowing that their beloved sister would not lie to them but still disappointed that she had not named themself the victor.  Nearing the stables the three saw four men, ranging from 26 to 19 in age waiting for them. Andrew, the oldest and heir, had the same bright Auburn hair, which he kept long, and vivid green eyes as Dominique. When standing next to each other, it was nearly impossible to tell who was who. Everold and Frederius were the muddy auburn-haired, brown-eyed twins. And lastly, the youngest brother of the older siblings, Gossuin with his jet black hair and dark blackish-brown eyes, who looked so much like their father. They all waited with serious expressions for the three to dismount and walk over to them.

"You spoil the little ones, Domi," Gossuin said, even as he ruffled the two boys' hair, listening to them chatter on about their ridding lesson and ensuing race.

"No more than I spoilt you, Goss." She replied as she lightly thumped his back before turning her gaze to the remaining three, "What brings all of you out here?" She inquired.

"Achere's birthday is tomorrow... Father has been drinking since this morning." Drew said, a net of grief covering the group of five. Achere had been the oldest of the siblings, the heir to the Viscount title, Domi's teacher and best friend. She had loved him almost as much as she loved Drew. He had been a part of her, and when he died seven years ago, they had all lost a piece of themselves too. Now, every year near his birthday, their father would lock himself in his study and drink until he passed out. Dominique was the only person that could redirect his grief. Her worried eyes turned up toward the upper study window before she nodded her understanding. The brother's faces all showed that they hated making her do this, but how they also hated to see their father in such a state. Squaring her shoulders, the young woman flashed the brothers a slight smile, though it didn't reach her eyes, then walked towards the manor with quick yet silent steps. She worked her way through the halls and up the stairs, stopping when she saw two figures standing before her destination. Herilde, her raven-haired, green-eyed half-sister, and Rosza, her stepmother.

Dominique's relationship with Rosza was complicated. Rosza had been her mother's bosom buddy, and after Audovera fell ill, her nurse. She spent two years doing her best to keep her friend alive, keep the house running, and the children happy and healthy. During that time, Dominique had admired and loved her. Even the three years after, she had grown to idolize and rely on Rosza. Then her father announced that he was going to marry the woman and she would become their new mother. There had been no signs, no warning, and rage, betrayal and fear drowned the thirteen-year-old girl. Not only was her father replacing her mother, but he was also replacing Domi. She had taken over the duties of the Lady-of-the-house, stubbornly doing everything on her own. Now her responsibilities and duty were being given to another. Nothing either adult did or said got through Dominique's icy attitude for a year after the wedding. She was polite, as was required of her, but she avoided both of them whenever possible. It was when she was hiding from Rosza that she discovered the letters her mother had dictated to her family in her final days. In them, she spoke of how she hoped her sister of the heart would care for those she was leaving behind as if they were her own. About how she wanted Dominique to be given the chance to be who she wanted, even if that was a warrior instead of a wife, as Audovera knew Dominique's swordsmanship secret. She begged Raymondin to find love again, not only for himself but for the children. Tears blurred Dominique's vision as she read the final letter, the one addressed to Domi.

Audovera asked her daughter to look past her grief. She pleaded for her to take care of not just herself, but also her father, brothers, and Rosza. Predicting that the two adults would join in union, she implored Dominique to accept it, and if she couldn't, to not hinder it. There was so much more, but the young girl couldn't finish. Instead, she wiped her tears, put the letters away, and went to her father and stepmother. Her actions shocked the two, as she knelt placing her head to the ground, apologizing, and asking their forgiveness. She never told them what had changed, or why, needing to keep this last bit of her mother to herself, however, she now engaged with the whole family and even rejoiced when her sister was born safe and healthy. While she was not as close to Rosza as she had been when she was a child, the two respected and understood each other. Which was why Dominique was not surprised or offended by the other woman's words.

"Oh, Dominique!" Rosza exclaimed all be it quietly, "I will leave him to you." With those parting words, which to a stranger would seem presumptuous, Rosza took an anxious-looking Herilde's shoulder and steered her back down the stairs. Domi's sister looked back at her, so she put on her brightest smile.

"It will all be okay." she mouthed before turning back to the door and straightening her spine. "Papa, I have urgent business to discuss with you," she called out after giving a jarring rasp on the oak.

"Enter." was the muffled and slightly slurred reply. As she unlocked the door, knowing he had forgotten its barred state, she thought quickly about the best way to distract him.

"The season will be over soon, and school will be starting. Have you looked into where to send the younger ones? The three are so intelligent, we have run out of things to teach them." she closed the door, cutting off the rest of the conversation from the rest of the house.

A couple of hours later she re-emerged, her father behind her calling the steward to bring him coffee and the materials he needed on the varying teaching institutes available to him. The sun was setting, casting the surrounding woods and pastures in a rouge light as she passed the windows heading to her room to change then out to the training field. She then spent her time thrusting, lunging, and carrying with her right hand, being dominantly left-handed. Normally she would practice with either Drew or Fred, but today she needed time to herself. Once she had worked up a good sweat she headed inside. Stopping in the kitchen both for a snack and to ensure that anything needed for the morrow's meals was prepared, she saw Laurent escorting someone to her father. She had a nagging sense of familiarity, however, she couldn't place why, having only seen the back of the guest. Domi considered going to bed and inquiring about the visitor when she next spoke to her father but it was her father's raised voice that silently brought Dominique to the hall outside his office. It certainly hadn't been loud enough to wake anyone, still, it was a volume and tone she hadn't heard since her brother Achere's death seven years ago. Peeking in the cracked door she watched the three men, sensing that she needed to stay to learn what this was all about.

"I have lost too much in the name of the Cardinal and the King. I will lose no more. Whatever bond we once shared has been severed beyond salvage, and I will not return to the life which caused so much pain. If you wish to lick the boots of the very one responsible for your downfall, then by all means, be my guest. But I shall have no part in this fool's errand.” her father said, his face and body tight with suppressed rage and sorrow.

Raymondin's words cut Etienne to the quick. How dare he admonish him over the subject of loss? Raymondin had indeed lost his eldest and heir at La Rochelle, yet Archere had joined the front lines willingly as a musketeer. Yet his own son Sebastien had been murdered, not as a casualty on the battlefield, but by one of their very own in the foulest act of betrayal. And while those responsible for Achere's death had been defeated by the King's forces, Sebastien and the other blades' killer was free, still roaming the world. Etienne took pride in his stance as a rational and calm man, but a mixture of Raymondin's words and his callous attitude had ignited a beastly flame within the captain.

“YOU suffered? You lost your son in a war that he volunteered for, and while I joined you, and still do in weeping his loss, you returned to a home with your plentiful remaining children waiting for you, with a loving wife and bountiful wealth. My ONLY child was murdered by a man we both called brother! And we returned to the capital, only for me to fall upon my sword for YOU. You made it crystal clear to me that day that you felt you were the one with too much to lose should you become the target of the Cardinal. He stripped me of nearly everything! My title, my achievements, my life! And I only take up the task in his name once more to regain a purpose which I thought was forever lost to me. I have fought every day for the last seven years to rebuild nary a shred of who I once was. And what have you done??? Hidden away behind you walls, drinking yourself to death out of the guilt you harbour for knowing that you failed as much as I!” The two gazed into one another's eyes from across the room, a fire lit in both of them.

“You dare speak to me, in my house, of my son's death as mundane on the eve of his nameday?” Raymondin spoke in little more than a whisper, though his voice could not be more full of rage. “You are to leave, now. And never return.” Etienne stood his ground against his old colleague, showing no intention of moving from the spot.

“No matter how much you hide yourself away from the world Raymondin, Archere will never return. The boy was the most gifted candidate I have ever seen, and it was only....”

“YOU ARE NOT WORTHY TO SPEAK HIS NAME!” The viscount suddenly stood from his chair, slamming his hands down onto his desk now with fierce force, as if it could splinter the wood underneath. He moved himself around the furniture and to the front of the desk, acting as if he would perhaps go for his rapier. Etienne flexed on instinct, reaching for his own. “You do not serve France, as you do not serve the manchild of a King. You have only ever served yourself when not bowing to others out of fear!” The room became silent.

“What happened to you Raymondin? This is not the man I once called brother who sits before me.” La Fontaine collapsed onto the floor, his body weary and limp like a ragdoll, before he began to sob, his eyes reddening as the tears cascaded down his cheeks, dampening his lace collar. Gauging the situation, Etienne paused before moving slowly across the floor towards his old comrade. Not being ordered to stop, he continued in stride until he was adjacent with the defeated body. “Forgive my words old friend. The ghosts of the past that haunt us both will not be so easily exorcised.” He reached down to Raymondin, taking him in his arms as he placed his friend's head upon his shoulder, holding him while the sorrow coursed through his body and ran out in droplets.

“Every year I think the pain will subside, even by a fraction, but it only becomes worse.” he spoke in a muffled voice through the tears. “When they found him, they couldn't even recognise him, so convinced the surgeon was that he had been eviscerated by cannonfire. Only be his crest was he identified. My boy......” Further streams came as he lay limp, perched upon l'Armand's shoulder.

“Nothing can ever make up for his loss. Archere was a true hero, the best of us all. But you must realise Raymondin, that you have more than most to live for. You have eight wonderful children, who are all of good health and of sound mind. You have a loving and dutiful wife. You have your family and your home, and no doubt they miss their papa and husband, the man that used to be so full of life and dedication to all under his responsibility, those he considered to be his to protect. I am sorry old friend, I should have never asked of you to return.” He helped his friend, whose tears had started to subside back to his feet and to his desk.

“I beg you forgive me Etienne. I was wrong to act as if I was the only one who had lost that which I held dear. Though, I am afraid in response to your request, I cannot. I cannot give any more of myself to that evil man, and his puppet prince. It is true I have more than most men, and I need to realise that more, and dedicate the years I have left to them. I....” Etienne quickly raised a finger to his lips motioning silence, with Raymondin stopping mid sentence.

“I fear we are being listened in on.” Etienne whispered, though with his voice still like gravel. Slowly, he made his way to the great study doors and swung them open, revealing Dominique, the eldest daughter of the viscount, taken aback by her sudden discovery and almost falling to the floor. Etienne reached out a hand to steady her. “I apologise if I startled you mademoiselle.”

The cracked door allowed Domi to see most of the study, and hear the ensuing conversation with clarity. She recognized their guest, both by his voice and the brief glimpse of his profile. Monsieur Etienne du l'Armand. He had been a frequent face in the manor, had even helped find teachers for her brothers and herself. She remembered him as a stiff sort of man, but one which she had admired. Then, when her brother passed, he stopped coming around. Dominique had heard he had been striped of everything, but when she asked her father about it, he forbid her to ever speak l'Armand's name in his presence. Now she had her answer. l'Armand had lost everything because of her father.

It had been drilled into her since she was a child that honor was the motto of the family. That they all had to eat, sleep, breath, BE honor. Now she was shown what a hypocrite her father was. He may have spared them a life of poverty and ruin, but he did so at the cost of his best friends life. At the cost of his very soul. Dominique's hands fisted, her gloves the only reason she didn't draw blood. As the two men warred with words, she warred with herself. On the one hand she wanted to defend her father, to help him somehow. But on the other hand, she was still that resentful, angry little girl who wished he would just shut up and suffer for his mistakes. They all had scars from Achere's death, so she could understand her fathers anger when it seemed like the other man was disparaging his death. Dominique could also see that Etienne had admired both men, and would change things if he had the power to do so. He was also correct, that her father had become a shadow of himself and let grief come between him and the world.

Her internal battle ceased when it looked like a physical one would take place in the study. Her own hand went for her weapon, drawing it silently. Whether to defend her father or protect l'Armand she didn't know. Then, before she could push open the door, her father collapsed and began to weep. In all her years she could count on three fingers how many times she saw her father shed a tear. Once was when her mother died, then when her sister was born and both she and Rozsa were perfectly healthy. The last time had been after Achere's funeral. Even though he had stood in the rain, she could track the tears that ran down his cheeks. He had never broken down and sobbed like a child. Her father was the most stoic man she had ever met, yet here he was being comforted, and by the man he had betrayed, had dishonored. Seeing him like that, and hearing his anguish, brought tears to her own eyes.

How selfish she had been, thinking him cold and heartless, when he felt Achere's loss maybe more then any of them. He protected them, even at his drunkest, by hiding his grief. How many times, when he was locked in this room, had he lost a piece of his soul? How many times could he have used an understanding ear, a caring hand? How many times could she have helped this man she both loved and loathed? It was as if someone had slapped her. Dominique saw it all so clearly. She also saw what would happen if she continued to be blind to the needs of others. What would happen if she allowed herself to continue to be locked in this gilded cage. Something had to change, or she would surely grow to hate her father, more then she did. Worst yet, she would hate herself. Knowing what she must do now, and seeing the opportunity right in front of her, Domi prepared to announce her presence when the doors were flung open.

As her balance was thrown off and she fell back, a rough hand shot out to steady her. Looking up, clearly surprised, her wide eyes met Etienne's as he apologized for startling her. Now back on her feet, although with her pride bruised, she bowed appropriately then straightened, her hands clasped behind her, feet shoulder width apart.

"I am the one who should be apologizing. While I did not set out to eavesdrop, I had many an opportunity to leave and did not. For that I am sorry. However, I do have something to say that I think you both need to hear." her melodic voice carrying into the room, her body following close behind as she moved gracefully around the guest. After the doors had been shut, completely this time, she faced the two gentlemen with cold determination. "As I said, I listened in on your... discussion. You" she looked at l'Armand with a direct and piercing gaze, "need a Fontaine, I am assuming for our history and skills with a blade." Her hand went up when her father seemed ready to interrupt, and she turned her gaze on him. "You can't join his cause, as you have responsibilities that you need to see to here. Therefore, I am proposing I take your place papa. I am on the shelf, am more skilled then even you with a bladed weapon, and I have experience teaching. Other then this family, I have no obligations to speak of, and Rozsa can manage this place without me. It is time I let go and find my own way. Please don't object papa."

“All apologies accepted mademoiselle.” Etienne bought the fallen woman back to her feet. Though the next part of her speech was not so expected, and piqued the captain's interest when she laid out her claim. 'Bold of the one who has been caught spying to suggest that they demand the floor.' he thought to himself. But he had known Dominique, as with all of Raymondin's children since their youth, having been there for the birth of every one of them, as the viscount had been there when Sebastien came into the world. Raymondin had been after all, his greatest friend before the disbandment of the blades. While it had been a good seven years since, he had last visited to La Fontaine residence, he remember the girl well, having just blossomed into societal womanhood upon his last attendance. He could not lie in his surprise of seeing her here, imagining that as a daughter of nobility, she would have been residing with a husband, and perhaps a family of her own. Dominique had always had to fight for her place at the table, having grown up with a handful of brothers, and as such had learned from an early age to speak her mind, always with respect but without pulling any punches. Always proper yet headstrong, there was nary a man who could change her mind once she had set her heart to a task or belief. Even by the time Etienne had given his last visit, she had shown herself to be one of, if not the most skilled member of the family in the art of fencing. Many times had she sparred with the captain upon one of his stays, and had developed her skills on each return.

The two older gentleman listened as she laid out her proposal to replace Raymondin as an agent of the Cardinal. Usually perceptive as to occurrences to come, even Etienne could not have predicted her suggestion. It was well known that women were prohibited from joining the King's army, or perhaps Dominique would have enlisted alongside Archere. However, the Cardinal was above such restrictions as to who he utilised in his agendas. None of which Dominique spoke was untrue. She was skilled, she had relevant experience and she had no pressing obligations to attend to that could not be handled by Raymondin's wife coupled with the family's servants. When she mentioned being on the shelf, Etienne felt sympathy for her. While she was still undoubtedly young and beautiful, at the age of six and twenty, being unmarried she may have been seen by society as undesirable. Whether this was of her own choice, the captain did not know, although he recalled the girl having always been stubborn when he knew her in regards to suitors. Once her peace had been said, there was an uncomfortable silence in the room.

“No. I will not allow it.” Raymondin had recovered from his prior state and regained his composure, standing in front of his desk. “That you are more skilled with a blade than any in our family is no secret, but I will not permit any child of mine to once more serve the whims of men of ill renown.” Etienne sighed internally. Raymondin had always been stubborn, a trait his children had inherited for better or worse. The captain had witnessed many battles between the viscount and his children, where neither would give way, regardless of who was in the right. It was true that Etienne needed recruits, but this was a more personal matter.

“If I may speak.” he interjected. “I understand your concern my friend. What happened to Achere was a true tragedy, and while I will always serve the King in whatever capacity is allowed of me, even I can see that he is too keen at times to send men to their deaths. The Cardinal is no exception, and perhaps even more willing to sacrifice his pawns without thought. But France has need of us. If we do not rise to the challenge, the whims of King or Cardinal will matter not. I understand your stance not to return with me, but your daughter has shown herself to be more than capable, and willing. In her own words, she feels as if she is being kept as if a bird in a gilded cage, able to glimpse that around her but never to reach beyond it.” Raymondin looked upon his daughter then at l'Armand with a weary gaze.

“I know what you are doing Etienne. But I cannot allow it, for her safety above all else. Even if you promised to protect her, I could not trust the manner for which Richelieu would use her.” Rather than outright dismissal in his voice as there had been before, there was emotion and sympathy behind it.

“Nor could I promise to protect her. War brings casualties, you know this more than most, it is an inevitability of life. And yet we engage in it, knowing the consequences.” He in turn looked over to Dominique, who stood their silent while her father and his old colleague exchanged words. “But surely now, more than ever, it is her choice to make. I know you wish to protect your family, but locking yourselves away from the world is not protection. It is imprisonment, and your children deserve to see the light from more than behind barred windows. The girl expressed it herself, she wishes to be let go. Is that not the true duty of a father, to ready his child to step out into the world?”

Domi straightened at her father's refusal, only to have her objection die on her lips at his praise. Raymondin's encouragements towards his oldest daughter were few and far between, so rare that Dominique had a hard time recalling when she last heard a favorable word from him. However, her feelings of pride were brief when he called her a child. She was six and twenty! Well past the age where she needed her father to coddle her, not that he had done much in the way of fathering after her mother's death. Less even after Achere's passing. In the past seven years, she had to be the parent of the two. Teaching the young ones, helping Drew learn the ropes of being the heir, and comforting Rozsa when she birthed breathless babes. Domi was far from being a child. Etienne's interruption stopped her from saying just that. While she hated that they spoke as if she weren't there, or had a mind of her own, she accepted that was just how men were. So she pressed her lips together and stayed quiet.

Her father's resolve was wavering. The captain's words touching a cord deep inside him. Domi had decided she was going to leave one way or another. She would prefer to be able to return and see her brothers, sister, and Rozsa, but her mind was made up. Not even God could change her mind if he cared enough to try. Knowing that a gentle nudge was all that stood between her and her freedom she stepped forward, the Rapier she had inherited from Achere held out to her father.

"What honor is there in standing by as our friends suffer when we, when I, can do something? What use are frère aîné (big brothers) rapier and my skills if they are left to rust when they could have made a difference? Achere didn't fight and die for those men of ill renown. He did it for us, his family." Domi's musical voice softened towards the end. She knew it was a low blow, bringing up her brother, but if the two men before her had taught her anything, it was that nothing was off limits when one was fighting a battle. If she had to rend her own heart to win this war, she would do so without a second thought. Her goal was so close she could taste it. Her father could also see it.

Despite his neglect, Raymondin knew his eldest daughter better than she thought. The moment she had been discovered, he had sensed what she was going to demand of him. She had his stubbornness, as well as her mother's. This was a losing battle, but what else could he do? His baby girl wanted to join a wolf's den. Ray just couldn't allow it, or so he thought. Prepared to set down the law, all his arguments were deflated when she spoke of honor and her brother. His precious son, whose wit and smile he would never see again.

"Even so, I can not allow it." he said, his voice and tone unconvincing to even his ear.

Laurent stepped forward, having faded into the shadows and forgotten by those present. While he had not been master steward when Raymondin had been part of the blades, he was intimately knowledgeable about his master's affairs, as had been his father before him. He, also, had watched the children grow, mourned their deaths, and shared their joys. While the two men had talked, he had been watching Dominique, had seen the flash of determination when she volunteered, knew she had decided to escape, what she perceived, her cage at any cost. Just as he knew his master was warring internally and backing himself into a corner.

"Do you wish to kill her my lord?" he said, his voice soft. Knowing that he had all their attention he continued. "It is not my place to say anything, I know. However, for your sake, I must say this. If you do not let her go now, you will have to lock her up or marry her off to that elderly comte. You know as well as I that he would suck the life from her. It would be a death sentence either way. I can see she is ready and willing to leave this house. Whether she keeps you appraised of her well-being or not is your choice." Raymondin was astonished. For the past six years, Laurent had been his closest confidante, a friend even, as well as the ideal steward. He rarely spoke out of turn, and never meddled with family affairs unless asked. With that uncharacteristic outburst, Raymondin realized how much he let his emotions cloud his judgment. Laurent was right. If he wanted to stop her, he would have to marry her off to the comte, who was twenty years her senior, had four mistresses that he knew of, and had only asked for Dominique so he could get a legitimate heir. Or he would have to lock her up. Either way, she would hate him, and when she managed to escape, he would never hear from his baby girl again. How that would affect the family, he had no idea, but he suspected her brothers, especially Andrew, would loathe him as well. Raymomdin would become the type of man he despised the most. A hypocrite and dictator. Looking at Dominique, he too now saw her decision to leave regardless of his approval in her eyes. He also saw the pleading that he allowed this request buried deep under all that pride and stubbornness. He leaned heavily against his desk with a weary sigh as his hand wiped down his face.

"Everything in me doesn't want to listen to your logic, Laurent. However, you are right. Dominique, I will allow this fools errand, but only under two conditions. First, you must write and come back here as much as possible. Second is that you take care of yourself and run if you can't win. Honor means nothing to me if you die trying to achieve it." though tired and seemingly defeated Raymondin's words were a command. "Old friend, take care of her as best you can, and should you need anything, other than men to fight, I will do my best to provide it." his eyes locked with Etienne, a moment of vulnerability and fear of his choice in his own. Dominique broke the spell when she hugged the Viscount.

"Thank you, papa."

Raymondin's continuing refusal had aggravated the captain, but not surprised him. Especially of the two, La Fontaine had always been the more unmoving when it came to matters he had set his mind on. While Etienne had always held firm in his beliefs, he was not above conceding when he was presented with a logical argument.

“Your girl speaks the truth Raymondin, and you must accept it, however much you wish to protect her from the ills of the world.” l'Armand thought Dominique had spoken well, with an astute claim in her arsenal. Even the viscount had admitted that his daughter was the most skilled with a blade in the family, so what good would that skill serve being left to rust away behind four walls? Raymondin again refused, but then something unexpected happened. Having forgotten the man was in the room, assigned to the shadows and silent, Laurent began to speak. For a servant to speak up without their master's permission was one thing, but to even suggest what came from his lips would have, under normal circumstances, earned him a severe punishment. Though rather than displaying rage at the act, Raymondin seemed to be taken aback by his words. Laurent had made a similar argument to his mistress's, but spoke further of the ramifications of keeping her behind closed doors. Even though it was a societal faux pas of the highest order, Etienne could not help but be impressed by the servant's words and his projection of reality. And to his shock, the viscount seemed to concede defeat. Neither he, nor Raymondin's own daughter had been able to persuade the man, both influential nobles by birth, but had been outspoken by a mere servant. Having no time to adjust to the change, he listened to his friend's words and requests, nodding as they came in tow.

“I will, I give you my word on that. And your offer is most gracious.” He then watched as father and daughter embraced. For the first time in recent memory, Etienne caught a glimpse of Raymondin's smile, something he had not witnessed since the blades' disbandment. “While I will not require your daughter's presence as of the immediate, I do wish however to steal her away from you for a brief talk.” Raymondin nodded in understanding, looking towards Dominique and Laurent.

“Laurent, if you would return to your duties.” The servant bowed and exited the study. “And if Domi, you would give myself and the captain a moment?” Also exiting the room and waiting outside, all that was left was the two of them. “I do not do this out of good conscience, nor out of love for the King. Whether my daughter wishes to leave of her own accord or not, she has no idea of the dangers she faces, that all of you will face. I only do this as forbidding it will lead her to nothing but a shadow of a life, and resentment towards myself. I am trusting you, as a friend and a comrade, to protect her. If news were to reach me of her....” He stopped, emotion gathering both in his voice and on his face. Etienne interjected with his own words, a warm kindness spreading towards Raymondin.

“I cannot promise that she will be free from harm, just as I could promise this to no other. But you have my word that I will watch over her, and do everything in my power to keep her safe. I owe you a great debt for this, and so I will look out for her as if she was my own.”

Several minutes later, Etienne emerged from the study, motioning Dominique to follow him to somewhere they would not be disturbed. At her suggestion, the occupied an empty room, with Etienne checking that they were truly alone before he began.

“I must admit, I came here with the sole intention of recruiting your father, but coming away with yourself mademoiselle, is both a pleasant surprise and an honour. Now. I am aware that this will be news, and not necessarily welcomed at that, to your family, for it will require you to leave them and the estate for periods of time. I will be holding a gathering, and hosting all who have been recruited to the cause. This will take place in three days time at the hour of midnight, within my estate in the centre of Paris, on Rue de Épreiver, several streets away from the Louvre. I ask that you arrive alone and unfollowed, for the matters I will be discussing are of state secret and cannot be overheard by any other. Once you have arrived at the location, which you will recognise by only one lamp lit outside, you will proceed through the courtyard and to a door which leads to the quarters of my servants. You will rap on the door thrice, and a fourth time after a brief pause. When asked who goes there, you will respond 'Secrecy is the first essential in affairs of the State'. My man will then lead you to the room of our discussion, where more details will be revealed. Again, this cannot be discussed or shared with anyone other than the two of us, and then the party within the meeting. While I admire your skill and determination, it is still an immense honour and privilege that you will be undertaking, and it cannot be squandered.”

When all was said and done, l'Armand said his goodbyes to the La Fontaines, leaving them with the remaining days and nights they had as a fully family. Taking his steed back from the valet, he set off back to Paris, taking his time to admire the scenes of the countryside as he rode. If he wished to see it again, and not fields reduced to ash and ember, he would need this to work.