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 En route to Orleans

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PostSubject: En route to Orleans   Mon Mar 23, 2009 10:09 am

"You should be resting," the queen commented to Chantilly.

Chantilly ignored her, keeping her eyes pinned on the increasingly choppy seas. The wind was picking up, sending her grown-out hair violently whipping about her face, each strand stringing faintly against the cold of her cheek. It had been bad weather the entire way to Orleans; today was just the latest in a series of foreboding storms. Chantilly barked a few orders to the crew, but the crew was experienced and had already begun to prepare without her instructions, so she settled back into watching the growing waves.

"You shouldn't worry so much," the queen mused. "Surely you know that we won't sink."

"Yep," Chantilly replied shortly.

"Oh, come on, Celestine. You can't be angry with me and Seamus forever. It was all for the best, you know. Only a fool would reject her powers," the queen snapped. "I did you a favor. Now it's no longer a matter of conscience."

"If you say so."

"I do say so. How does it feel, to be all-knowing? Isn't it exhilarating?"

"I still can't see what happened to Marcus."

"Hmm?" The queen raised an eyebrow.

"Marcus. I want to know where he died." Chantilly sighed and looked at the queen for the first time. "When this is over, I wanted to go find his body, and give him a proper burial. But I cannot see anything about him."

"Don't tell me you're still at all pining for your little white knight. He's dead, Celestine. Let the dead lay at the bottom of the ocean."

"You've seen it? Is that where he lies?" asked Chantilly, the question lined with a twinge of hope.

The queen looked pained. "You have a job to do, and you're chasing ghosts in your head," she chastised sharply.

Chantilly looked a bit sullen. "I am ready," she countered resolutely. "I am sure of it. Emile's assassin will pay with his life."

"See that he does." The queen smiled. "We'll be in Orleans soon."
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PostSubject: Re: En route to Orleans   Tue Mar 24, 2009 10:54 am

The queen drummed her fingers along the railing impatiently. The winds had been awful, seeming mostly to blow in the opposite direction of ideal, and the trip to Orleans was taking longer than she had hoped for. Much longer and she wasn't sure Chantilly would still believe that it was even possible to catch Emile's "murderer" lurking about the port. Thankfully, Chantilly had seemed more pained and distant than itching for action. Normally, this would have annoyed the queen, but with the poor wind, she supposed it was preferable that Chantilly wallowed in her own ignorance.

Other than the weather, the rest had all gone according to the queen's most perfect of designs. The Orders had been destroyed from within and their survivors scattered, ceasing to be a threat. Half of Chantilly's closest and most loyal friends had died in her defense, including her lover and protector, Marcus. And the remainder, they were meeting their end, one by one. Emile's death was the first, since the queen knew there was no chance she could talk Chantilly into offing him herself. But the emotional salve that exacting "revenge" for Emile's sake would provide, the queen knew it would spur Chantilly to finish the rest of them. The priest would be next for his betrayal of Chantilly's trust. And finally, Seamus, for his forceful, well-intentioned meddling.

With all of them finally gone, with no remaining links of friend of foe to tie her down, Chantilly would finally be ready to take her place. Yes, it would hurt her for a time, but someday Chantilly would understand that a true master of their abilities had no room for entangling alliances of the heart. Someday, Chantilly would thank her for the freedom that her new life would bring. Possibly as she was finally placing a dagger into the queen's back. The queen smiled, amused at the thought.

She looked out in the direction of Ruddy Cove, searching for the signal, but there were no tell-tale sails on the horizon. Damn it, she thought. Certainly it hadn't taken this long to get the job done. She hadn't sent the most competent of her associates - to ensure that Chantilly wouldn't have any trouble avenging, of course - but deMontfort was soft and drunk these days, if reports from his time in Europe recently were to be believed. There was no way that he'd survived the surprise attack.

But the boat wasn't there, which meant somehow the job hadn't been finished. The queen sighed in supreme annoyance, then closed her eyes to concentrate. Yes, Emile was still alive. She sighed. And it had been going so well...

"Pull into port at Ruddy Cove," she barked down at the crew.

Chantilly, hearing the sudden change in plans, came out of the captain's cabin. "What? Why?" she questioned the queen.

"I have business there. You'll be going on to Orleans alone," the queen explained swiftly. "You can handle things, I'm sure."
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