Altered Course

((sometime in the past few months))

A concert was not exactly the type of event Chantilly would have normally attended. Especially not lately. Being evicted from the church, running into the queen again in Pensacola, her sudden decline of health coupled with the spike in visions... No, a concert was about the last thing on which she'd like to spend her remaining time. But the invitation had used her childhood name: "Celestine". That alone had made it worth the investigation, enough to even bother dressing for the occasion like old times. Regardless, Chantilly had the distinct impression she was being lured - what if it was another Umbra trap? She shrugged at her inner sense of unease and, heaving a sigh, entered the music conservatory.

The evening's featured musician was a harpsichordist fresh off the boat from Europe, playing some selection of pieces from time spent in a Spanish city Chantilly knew nothing about. The relentless plucking and twanging of the instrument were certainly music of a sort, but the tinny sounds annoyed rather than soothed or moved her. It made her long for the deepness of a proper organ, like the ones she had heard back in Marseilles, when music was an emotional experience touching upon feelings and longing that her young mind had only began to truly fathom. She shook her head irritably and, drowning out the music with the sound of her own thoughts churning like the sea, searched the other concert-goers for familiar or threatening faces. She saw none, finding only the placid, glazed expressions of nobles who appeared perhaps as bored as herself, or bright-eyed students watching and listening intently in wonderment, scribbling with quills and deep in observation. If there was any clue for why she had been invited here, it was certainly missing her notice. In fact, no one in the hall seemed at all dangerous, and could easily be colleagues of Emile's - though, she noted with amusement, that the Marquis had never seemed dangerous either until he pulled the knife out of her back to show it to her.

The concert ended uneventfully, and Chantilly quickly rose from her seat. She had no intention of joining the reception afterwards, and was impatiently gathering herself to leave when she heard a voice behind her. "Mademoiselle Angevin, if I might see you a moment?" Chantilly turned to see an elderly woman and instinctively put her hand near a hidden blade in her vest. The woman seemed to laugh, and said knowingly, "That won't be necessary. Please, follow me."

She turned and gingerly began to move towards a side entrance to the music hall that Chantilly had not noticed before. The old woman's gait was awkward yet purposeful, nearly rehearsed, and did nothing to set Chantilly at ease. Still, she realized that the woman, while bearing some otherworldly similarity to the queen, lacked all of the potent, unspoken violence in her demeanor that would signify a true physical threat. True, she could have allies, but if she did, there was nothing that Chantilly would be able to do in that case. Chantilly searched her mind, trying to recollect some fragment of a vision that might indicate the purpose of this meeting, but came up short of anything meaningful - a growing rarity these days. She was almost grateful to realize she could still be surprised.

The woman abruptly stopped in front of another door, making Chantilly nearly stumble over the old woman. "Please come in," the woman invited, opening the door wide for Chantilly to enter. Chantilly obliged, and as she passed the woman, she noticed the empty look in the woman's eyes, and realized that she was blind. Another surprise.

The woman closed the door behind them, and Chantilly looked around. It was little more than a large closet or storage room, but inside it had an arcane feel. The room was dark and the walls were lined with nearly empty bookshelves. There was a single table in the middle, on which sat a single lit candle and some object concealed with a white cloth wrapped around it. "I apologize for the decor," the woman said with a smile. "As you may have noticed, I have little use for such trappings. I hope the candle will be enough for you."

"Who are you?" Chantilly asked suspiciously.

"Do not be afraid. I am a friend," the woman replied gently. "You may call me Katharine."

"Katharine..." The name was familiar, and Chantilly's memories came rushing back to her. Katharine was a visionary as well, though on the Custodes' side instead of the Umbra's - even though, Chantilly noted with annoyance, Katharine had often seemed to distance herself from the Custodes entirely, even aiding their enemies from within. "Marcus spoke of you," Chantilly acknowledged tautly.

"Yes," Katharine said simply. "I'm sure he did."

Chantilly sighed. "What do you want with me?"

"I wanted to show you this." Katharine took the object from the table and unwrapped it carefully, then held it out for Chantilly to see.

The candle light was dim, but Chantilly could just make out the symbols on the hilt. "Marcus' sword..." Chantilly breathed. "Where did you -"

"What has happened, Chantilly?" Katharine interrupted, her voice for the first time seeming full of purpose. "Where is Marcus? What has become of him?"

"Haven't you seen it?" Chantilly scoffed, the pain of the reminder making her stiffen and turn away. "The Umbra killed him as we were fleeing to the north of here."

Katharine bowed her head. "You are... quite sure?"

"I was there. They would not have left him alive." Chantilly huffed a bit and crossed her arms. "Why, have you seen otherwise?"

"No, I have not. I cannot sense his presence at all." Katharine closed her eyes, as if searching a final time to be sure. "But you were his Visionary; he your protector. More than that, you were his beloved."

"All the more reason that I am certain he is dead," Chantilly sighed softly, a tear gathering in her eye. "If he were alive, would he not have come for me by now? Surely he must be dead."

"Yet I am certain that he is not dead," Katharine countered. "I do not believe he could ever leave this world when you are still in it. Such is the nature of his soul. It could not be his time while you yet live."

"Foolishness." Chantilly rolled her eyes. "You have seen nothing."

"That is true, and neither have you. Even if either of us had seen something, a vision is not a promise of the future. It is only a possibility."

"So what do you seek to accomplish by torturing me with this? Haven't you caused enough trouble?" Chantilly growled.

Katharine sighed. "I know that you have heard this before... but you must realize that the sun had set on those orders. Just as the queen helped to end the Umbra, so I played that role for the Custodes. Do know that the wheels were in motion regardless of my involvement, although I do regret whatever pain allowing Truss to carry out his intentions might have caused you or Marcus."

"Regret. Oh, that's a lovely sentiment," Chantilly spat.

"The Umbra truly did embitter you, to be so incapable of forgiveness or faith," Katharine remarked sadly, covering up the sword with the cloth again.

"Very easy for you to say."

"Yes, easier than for you. I know you are hurting, but I implore you, do not give up hope so easily. I believe he is out there, and that he will find you." Katharine held out the wrapped sword in Chantilly's direction. "Take it. Perhaps it will help lead him to you."

"You can keep it. Both the sword, and your hope," Chantilly replied flatly and turned to go. "I prefer my memories."

A figured dressed in black and gold trim stepped on the docks of St. Augustine. The dock master approached as was his custom to take a tax for setting anchor in the harbor.

"Your name sir?" He adjusted his spectacles and he opened his entry book.

The figure gazed past him then slowly turned his attention to the bookish figure before him. The blank mask unnerving him.

"Mr M." the man spoke.

"And. ahem...ah your term of stay."

"Long enough" was all the figure spoke before dropping a small coin purse on the book and moved with with purpose and reform pass the dock master.