against the tide // madeleine

[Edmond Ivon d'Aoust]

1819

Edmond had just arrived in Bordeaux after a long cart ride relay from Paris. He had a bit of luggage with him, but not more than he could carry on his own: a haversack slung across his body, a smaller knapsack over one shoulder, and a couple of well-worn suitcases, one in each hand.

He didn't really have a destination in mind; he had only chosen Bordeaux because it was a city he knew fairly well, and it wasn't Paris. Frankly he was tired of that place; for reasons he couldn't explain, walking around the city and its immediate baillage brought to him an air of melancholy he didn't quite understand. He suspected it had something to do with the gaping blank void that was his memory; it was as if being in Paris tried to trigger something he didn't remember, but it was always unsuccessful.

The only thing Edmond really remembered was his name, and even then, only his first name. No surname, no family, no nothing. He had woken up one day and just realized he didn't know who he was. He assumed he had perhaps been in a coma or something and only just woken up from it, but that had all happened a few years ago.

At least he had fallen in with the Grande Armée. It wasn't that hard. He followed orders, and didn't have to think too much for himself. Not in the beginning. And that was a good thing for someone with no memory to do. Just follow orders.

But as it turned out, he was quite good at it. So good that he rose in the ranks over the years, became a commissioned officer, a cavalier in the Imperial Guard. And just when Edmond thought he was getting somewhere, Waterloo happened. And then suddenly the Empire was gone.

That obese sack of slime, Louis Dix-Huit, was on the throne. Funny that they should have a king after they had an emperor. Wasn't that a bit of a downgrade, Edmond thought? And Louis XVIII's face looked familiar to him, though he didn't know why. It was familiar beyond having seen a portrait in passing.

Bah. Lost in thought, Edmond only broke out of his reverie when the cartman cleared his throat, waiting for Edmond to clear out of the coach. Well, it wasn't so much a coach as it was a covered wagon with wooden benches and hay for sleeping. But it had served its purpose.

"Thanks, friend," Edmond sighed, glum as he extracted a livre from his purse to pay for the ride.

"See you soon," the driver shrugged, glad to be done with him. That passenger had been a bit odd.

Picking up his bags, Edmond looked around and sighed, starting down the rue. He passed a few inns, and he paused outside each one, glancing inside to evaluate the crowd and amenities. They all looked a bit too ... snotty for his liking, though. Ever since the Restoration, 'old' nobility had become à la mode, and their stuffy behavior left a bad taste in Edmond's mouth.

Well, that, and they were the most rabid opponents of Napoleon anything. Even Edmond, though he was only a used soldier, now.

Edmond was dressed in civilian clothing of course; general traveler's gear, complete with frock coat, cloak, and hat. He continued to plod along down the sidewalk, until he finally located an inn that looked promising. It was warm and cozy, but also basic, lacking any of the glitz that the nouveau-riche preferred. That was well and good, considering that it was getting dark now, too.

With a weary sigh, he picked up his bags again and trudged into the inn.

"Just room and daily meals for one, please. I'll pay month to month," he informed the innkeeper upon locating her by the counter. He set his luggage down again to rummage for the coin; he still had enough of a surplus that he would be able to cover his own expenses for a while, so long as he found some sort of income in the next month or so. He had lost his property because of the political climate of the Restoration, but he had managed to sell most of his household possessions and flee before he could be caught for his former loyalties.

Pushing the coin across the counter, he smiled a forced smile at the innkeeper, taking the key when it was offered with a gruff 'thanks.' Then he scooped up the bags as before and went trudging off to deposit them in what would have to be his living space for the next weeks until he figured things out. He'd already planned on hiding out for a while here before moving on, just to lay low.

As he unpacked his belongings (mostly personal items and clothing, but also a couple of books, a compass, two different pistols, a knife, and a saber) and set them around the small but basic room, he glanced out the window, watching some sort of spat playing out on the street below. Probably a lover's quarrel, he figured, watching the woman and man engaged in a shouting match.

"'Tis not been an hour and already this place brings good tidings," Edmond snorted to himself as he hung his clothes in the wardrobe.

Needless to say, he was famished, and as soon as he was finished unpacking, he headed downstairs, hoping for some bread, stew, and wine. Hunger gnawed at his stomach; sure, Edmond did tend to eat a lot, but ever since the war had been over, he felt as if his appetite was worse than normal, a sort of hunger that couldn't be satisfied with any amount of bread.

Reentering the common room, he took a seat at an empty table, waiting to be served. Sure, the place was devoid of any stuffy nobility; the flipside was that it was currently packed with obnoxious not-quite-riffraff-but-not-quite-bourgeoisie. Still a step up from a waterfront inn though - the kinds that crawled with sailors and prostitutes.

After the journey, Edmond wasn't feeling particularly social, staring blankly into space until food and drink was brought.

[Madeleine Aguillon]

Madeline, a woman of twenty-one with waist-length brown hair and fair skin, ran an inn in Bordeaux. Her late husband, a kind man called Gervais, had bought the inn before he wed his now-widow, and had brought it up from a slummy shack to a fairly prosperous and respectable business. That had been just Gervais' way, finding the good in places and people when others might not have taken the time to see it themselves.

Gervais had been older than Madeleine when they married, as was typical, but he had made her happy and taken fine care of her. The inn, called the Winking Rabbit, had become successful quite quickly, allowing Gervais to provide his new bride with many of the finer things in life. There was always food on the table, a fire in the grate, and from time to time, Madeleine's husband would surprise her with a new necklace or similar trinket.

Gervais was killed very shortly after he wed Madeleine, fatally wounded in battle while in the service of the Emperor. Madeleine was left with an inn to run and, as she had to revealed to Gervais only weeks before his death, a baby on the way. Their child, a son named Guillaume, was born in the late summer of 1815.

The year was now 1819, and the weather had turned cold and cruel a month ago. Business at the inn had picked up somewhat, in conjunction with the rising number of skirmishes that had started in Paris, but were beginning to creep further and further south. Every night, Madeleine could count on at least one group of men, not much older than she, who would sit in the corner of the common area, their heads bent of papers and maps, sometimes getting into rather heated discussions with one another.

There was one man in this group of regulars, a well-built man with a mop of brown hair that fell in curls into his face, who seemed to be the leader of the posse. He would always order dinner and wine, but never more. He never stayed the night, nor did many of his companions, save for one or two. Another in the cluster, one of the men who did board at the Rabbit, consistently ordered drink upon drink, usually getting louder with each beverage he consumed. Madeleine made a point of avoiding familiarity with this group of young men, simply because she wanted nothing to do with fighting and rabble-rousing. She had Guillaume to think of, and she would not do anything to put him at risk. So she served the students nightly and minded her own business.

It was on a particularly bitter night that a weary looking traveler entered, carrying several bags on his back and in his hands, and trudged up to the counter where Madeleine, dressed in a pale blue dress with long sleeves and a white wrap, was drying a mug with a clean blue rag.

"Just room and daily meals for one, please. I'll pay month to month," the newcomer said plainly, and Madeleine, who was keeping one eye trained on the increasingly rowdy students in their corner, slipped a small silver key across the bar top with a practiced, "four louis d'or each month."

The man paid and went on his way, and Madeleine took a quick moment to poke her head into the back room behind the bar, where Guillaume sat on the floor playing with lead soldiers.

"Staying out of trouble, mon petit canard?" Guillaume looked up at his mother, his big eyes alight with imagination, and nodded. At nearly five years old, Guillaume spoke very little, even to his mother. But he was a sweet boy, fond of stories and very affectionate, and Madeleine could look into her son's eyes and see Gervais there, winking back at her.

With a swift kiss planted on her little duck's head, she made her way back out into the main common room, where she was dismayed to find the students arguing in their corner.

Madeleine, though reserved, was not weak, and the moment she saw the young men getting out of hand, she marched over to their table and ordered them to pack up, that it was late and she would be closing soon.

"We are not finished here, Madame Innkeeper," the drunkest of the lot jeered. "We will leave when we have finished our business."

Madeleine, still holding the blue rag she had used to dry tankards, pointed to the door with the towel and instructed firmly, but not unkindly, "Finish your business in the snow. I will not have your shouting here." When it appeared he was going to talk back, Madeleine grabbed him firmly by the elbow and walked him to the door, where she shooed him out with her rag.

He began to shout at her, and unwilling to be made into a fool, she shouted back at him to take his business elsewhere next time and not to darken her door again if he was going to behave like a child. The intoxicated student eventually staggered off, and Madeleine returned to the warm interior of the inn.

She noticed casually that the man who had just arrived had come down, and he looked as though he might be staring straight into the past. He looked a little bit like Gervais, she noticed, the same strong jaw and the same angular cheekbones.

Madeleine served up a plate of stew and bread, filled a mug with wine, and carried the hot meal over to the man. She could tell he was far away and so did not ask any questions, simply setting the plate and mug before him with a soft "bon appetit."

[Edmond Ivon d'Aoust]

Edmond had come down the stairs just in time to witness some of the other students trickling out, glowering at the innkeeper from their various states of drunkenness. About half of the group still remained, but Edmond realized that they were probably the ones he had seen shouting at each other out on the sidewalk.

Not that spats at taverns were anything new. Or the common room itself. If Edmond wasn't out on the field, he was lurking in common rooms, drinking and people watching. When on leave, most soldiers were excited to run home to their families and friends, but Edmond had none of either, and would usually end up spending his stipend on a room and food, and saving the rest for a house - the house he had abandoned that year, unfortunately.

It wasn't that he was antisocial or not personable. He was actually quite good at the whole socializing bit, even when at those fancy parties the emperor used to throw for recognizing men who had performed well on the field. But poor Edmond was restless, or more specifically, his mind was. He felt distanced from people ever since waking, something that he again blamed on the missing chunk of his memory.

And the Restoration had made that worse, at least for him. Now he felt he was little more than a drifter.

Maybe he liked people-watching because he hoped every day that he would see someone he recognized, someone who might trigger some memory. But he never did, and nobody recognized him, either.

"Are they here very often?" Edmond inquired distractedly, his gaze off in the direction of the students who remained, when the innkeeper brought the supper. He picked up his spoon to have some of the stew, and was surprised at how well-seasoned it was.

"Oh, this is quite good," he spoke in surprise, though part of it might simply have been because he hadn't had a hot meal in ages. He broke of a piece of the bread, dipped it in the stew, and had another bite.

He fell quiet again, not wanting to take up too much of the woman's time, though as she bustled about attending to patrons, he studied her, trying to put together a story. She was surprisingly young, he thought, to be running an inn on her own, though he supposed perhaps she had a husband and the man was simply away. Or gone. He caught sight of the ring that dangled from a minute chain around her neck, quirking a brow at it but of course saying nothing.

As he returned to observing, keeping an eye on the students still, he saw a new group of patrons lumber in - a trio of them, though they didn't seem interested in renting a room. They went right up to the counter, waiting to be addressed, looking like they wanted to discuss 'business.'

Edmond's eyes narrowed. Hmph. He was fairly certain he had seen these same men entering another establishment earlier, when he had been perusing inns. Silently he returned to his meal, though he made sure to keep watch.

[Madeleine Aguillon]

Madeleine was straightening up from placing the stew in front of her newest guest when he spoke, inquiring after her unpleasant visitors. She offered him a warm smile, not wishing to show her annoyance at the students to her other guests.

"Every night, almost," she answered. "Not usually so many, though. Their numbers are growing lately, and I fear they are planning something dangerous." She shot a surreptitious glance over her shoulder to make sure the remaining rebellious youths.

Her smile broadened the tiniest bit when her guest complimented her stew, and she nodded gratefully at him in thanks. "My son chopped the vegetables."

As Madeleine went about her various chores, first wiping down the wooden bar, then sweeping the stone floor, she would stop at a table here or there and converse briefly with her patrons. She knew many of them by name, having been in Bordeaux for several years, and always being one to visit local merchants and farmers for her cooking and other needs.

As she drifted back toward the table where her new boarder was eating heartily, the door of the tavern blew open with an accompanying swirl of snowflakes.

Three men, all of whom looked a little rough around the edges (to say the least), swaggered haughtily into her inn, looking for all the world like everyone in the room should drop their bread and ale and bow.

Madeleine knew the men, and knew that she must see to them immediately. She hurried to the bar, wiping her hands on her pristine ecru apron as she walked.

"Bonsoir," she greeted them, a mite warily. "Bonsoir, Monsieur Cavalier, Monsieur Bardot." She pulled tankards out from under the counter and filled them quickly and efficiently. "I left this month's fee with your son, Monsieur," she said to the tallest of the three, Cavalier. "Just three days ago, after church. Monsieur Augustin, I believe you were there? Asleep, as I recall."

Madeleine would not dare to insult any of the three thugs openly, but she slipped in the barb regarding Augustin's usual drunken stupor without him seeming to notice.

"I received your payment," Cavalier said gruffly, wiping drops of ale from his beard. It took considerable effort for Madeleine not to gag as crumbs of stale food fell from his beard onto her clean counter. "But we require more. Times are hard, Madame Aguillon. If you want our continued protection from the local, shall we say, riffraff, we will require an additional 5 louis a month. We have families to support. I'm sure you understand."

Madeleine tried to conceal her worry. She had already been paying five louis a month, and in return, Cavalier and his band of "protectors" would keep rioters from descending on the Winking Rabbit and other local businesses.

"Ten louis! Monsieur, I have a family to support as well. Surely our current arrangement will suffice." The five louis a month was not going to bankrupt Madeleine, but ten... She had been hoping to engage a tutor for her son once summer approached, wanting him to learn to read and write.

"I hardly think an infant child counts as a family," Bardot drawled in his trademark slurred speech.

"Regardless of what you think, ten louis-"

"There is no room to negotiate, Madame Innkeeper. Either you accept our increase in compensation, or we will take our protection elsewhere. There is nothing I can do." Cavalier almost managed to sound sympathetic. Almost.

Madeleine sighed and closed her eyes to gather herself for a second. At last, she simply nodded and said, "oui," and pulled a leather pouch of gold louis from her pocket, counted out five gold coins, and slid them across the counter.

Bardot snatched the money up greedily. The other two drained their mugs of wine and tossed them down on the bar before gathering themselves up to leave. Not one of them paid for their drinks.

[Edmond Ivon d'Aoust]

Edmond watched warily from his spot by the fire, huddled over his stew and wine while the 'negotiations' carried out.

He recognized a shakedown when he saw one, in part because he had been the perpetrator in such acts himself on a few previous occasions - under orders, of course. In his subconscious he had always regretted such things, but regret impeded efficiency and so he had trained himself to keep quiet under such duress.

Straining his ears, he listened as best he could to the conversation, but was only able to catch a few snippets through the hubbub of the common room, even if activity was starting to dwindle now that the hour was growing even later. Unfortunately, there was nothing particularly damning about what he did hear, so all he could do was watch as the men sat and drank, and then vacated the tavern.

Frowning, Edmond studied them as they had sat at the bar. He noticed amber-colored stains on the hands and sleeves of one man, and charcoal and burn marks on another. Stroking his chin, he pondered on it, swearing he recognized these signs from somewhere, but he couldn't quite place it.

Once they had left, Edmond shook his head to himself and carried on with his meal, remaining quiet for the rest of the evening. It was too late to ask a million questions he felt, and besides, he was still a bit paranoid about being found (even if he wasn't anyone particularly special, so it wasn't as if he were important enough to have anyone after him, specifically), so he didn't want to attract too much attention from the get go.

Tomorrow, though, he decided he would scout around for work, as well as just try to get a grasp on this section of the city. He had been here a couple of times before for the army, but he had this sneaking feeling that something more important than that had happened to him here, and, just like everything else, he didn't know what.

He ended up staring into space again, his meal finished, until the innkeeper shooed him away, at which he apologized, thanked her, and left behind enough coin to cover the drinks the extortionists had bought.

He was grateful for the opportunity to sleep somewhere that wasn't ... moving. Once in his room, he didn't even change, simply collapsing onto his mattress and going right to sleep.

-----

Pain seared through his chest. He was on the ground, his ears ringing, the din of the mob and of the Swiss Guards' cries muted. He could only hear his labored breathing as he struggled to crawl to the nearest hall, out of the way of the battle.

It was hard to breathe. Each time he inhaled, it was as if someone was dragging nettles through his lungs. But then he felt a delicate hand on his cheek, soft but cold. And someone whispered in his ear.

"Shh. Rest now."

There was the faint scent of perfume, and then the sensation of cool lips upon his throat, followed by a sharp pain as something pierced his skin.

Suddenly he felt relaxed, and he closed his eyes, the sounds around him gradually fading.

-----

The week went by, and Edmond began to acclimate to his new environment. He woke one morning feeling refreshed, but not as well-rested as he would have liked. He could have sworn he slept like a rock, and yet he still felt drained.

Rubbing his forehead with his palm, he dragged himself out of bed and staggered down the hall to the shared bathroom to wash up. Once clean and dressed, he went down for a quick breakfast, and then was out the door to explore some more.

He didn't return until that evening, a burlap sack in one hand from having purchased a few things. He was just about to head back into the common room when a cart rolled by, sending a sheet of melted snow and sludge at the people on the sidewalk, Edmond included.

"Fait attention!" he hollered after them, wiping some of the muck from his face. They only laughed as they disappeared down the street.

"Don't worry about it, m'sieur. They always do that," piped up a girl from somewhere at waist level. She was carrying a basket of flowers, using a soiled handkerchief to try to scrub the grime from her hair.

Edmond looked her over, recognizing at once that she was probably an orphan, and also probably homeless.

"You're from around here?" he asked, stroking his chin.

"That's right! Would you like to buy a flower? Or two? Three gets me supper," she hummed cheerfully.

Edmond pursed his lips, thinking. Hm. He supposed he wouldn't mind the company. Children didn't judge, and weren't so burdened with grim memories as adults were.

"I'll take a whole bouquet. And how about some stew? The innkeeper here is a wonderful cook, so I've discovered," Edmond offered, sweeping a hand towards the door. "We could get you washed up as well."

"You have soap?" she squeaked, sounding pleasantly surprised at the notion.

"Yes, I just bought a batch fresh from Provence. Come, come why don't you thaw by the fire first?" he ushered, smiling for the first time in a while as he headed into the inn with the girl.

Both of them took up a spot by the fire, the same one Edmond had been at for the past few nights. The girl, who couldn't have been more than six, clambered onto the chair next to Edmond, placing her basket of flowers on the floor between the chairs.

"I'm Elise," she piped up, twirling a flower between her fingers. "Elise Beauvais."

The name sounded familiar to Edmond, but then, Beauvais was a common surname.

"How 'bout you?"

"Edmond," he answered simply.

"No last name?"

"Hm ... I cannot remember, to be truthful."

"That's okay. Edmond's easier to remember," Elise assured him, setting her chin on the edge of the table as she waited for food. She straightened up a bit, however, upon catching a glimpse of the innkeeper's child playing in the backroom. The door swung shut quickly enough, though, but the girl seemed even more hopeful than before.

[Madeleine Aguillon]

Madeleine spent the rest of the evening taking care of her last few dinner customers, sending the more familiar ones out into the snowy night with a smile and a "bonne nuit." Once the dining area was empty, she tidied up, sweeping the stone floor again before sloshing a bucket of water over the stones to wash away the grime left behind by dozens of pairs of feet tracking slush and snow into the common room.

She peeked into the backroom, which she had turned into a playroom of sorts for Guillaume, to find that he was asleep on a straw pallet she'd spread out, a tin soldier clutched in his still-pudgy hand. She smiled at her sleeping angel, and said a silent prayer of thanks for her little one, who was becoming more and more like his father with every passing day.

Knowing that Guillaume was safe and comfortable, Madeleine finished the remaining chores downstairs and then returned to her son's side. She scooped him up in her arms and his eyes opened just a bit, a bleary smile stretching his features. She carried him up the stairs and placed him tenderly in his bed, which was across the room from her own.

"Sweet dreams, little duck," she whispered and placed a kiss on his curly brown fringe.

----------

The next evening progressed in much the same manner as most of the evenings before it, with customers coming and going as they pleased, some speaking for a while with Madeleine and others ignoring her. It was business as usual.

Some time after night had fallen, the patron of the night before, the one who had complimented her cooking, returned for the evening. He was dripping with slushy mud and melting snow, and he was accompanied by a very young child. This surprised Madeleine at first, and she hoped the man's intentions were honorable. The little girl couldn't be much older than her own Guillaume. She watched the odd pair get comfortable by the merrily crackling fire, and then prepared two hearty plates of pork au poivre and parsleyed new potatoes.

Madeleine walked the plates over to the pair, balanced on a wooden tray along with a mug of ale for the man and watered wine for the child.

"Mademoiselle," she said to the young girl with a smile and a curtsy as she placed the hot food in her lap. "Je m'appelle Madeleine. May I buy a flower?" She held out a palm with a few francs in it. She sneaked a look at the gentleman across from the little girl and smiled conspiratorially at him.

[Edmond Ivon d'Aoust]

"Thank you miss," Elise squeaked, her eyes growing to the size of dinner plates at the sight of all the food. "Thank you M'sieur Edmond."

Edmond simply smiled a weary smile, picking up his spoon and starting on his food. Elise did the same, figuring it was okay since Edmond was eating. She tore into her meal with gusto, as if she hadn't eaten for days - which could have been true, considering.

When Madeleine offered to buy a flower though, Elise hurriedly dropped her bread back on the table and ducked to pick up her basket, reappearing with the basket over her head.

"Yes miss! Here you are," she offered, excited by her good fortune that evening. She held the basket out to Madeleine so she could take her pick from the different colors.

Edmond just chuckled good-naturedly from behind his mug.

"Miss Elise and I have united against rude wagon drivers the world over," he explained to Madeleine with a serious tone, nodding curtly.

Elise nodded curtly too. "I bet they don't get to eat porc au poivre though!" she assured them triumphantly, between mouthfuls of food.

Edmond smiled to himself, looking back to Madeleine.

"'Tis been a few days and I do not think that I have actually introduced myself, miss. Please forgive me. It's been a hectic few weeks," he confessed, while Elise was occupied with her meal. "Euh ... I am Edmond. And I have overheard several times that you are Madeleine, miss, so - "

But before he could even finish, some new patrons entered from the cold. And actually, these were those same men from the last week, who had come to extort the inn's owner.

Edmond hesitated, sitting up straight. "Apologies. It appears you have customers," he spoke quietly, in a way that suggested though he was trying not to expose her private business, he knew already what had been going on.

As Madeleine wasn't at the bar, Cavalier strode purposefully over to their table, a step bolder than last time. At least in their past dealings, he had had the courtesy to be discreet. Perhaps he hoped to use the leverage of a customer or two being present.

"Evening, mademoiselle," the man greeted gruffly, his two partners lurking just behind him. "So as to spare your precious patrons, maybe we should talk business in the back?" he suggested with a snakelike grin.

Elise had stopped chewing, looking with uncertainty to Edmond. From under the table, Edmond set a hand reassuringly over hers, before quietly drawing from his belt his .69 flintlock pistol.

[Madeleine Aguillon]

Madeleine selected several stems from Elise's basket and brought them to her nose to smell their sweet aroma. She smiled down at the pretty child before turning to face the child's companion.


"Miss Elise and I have united against rude wagon drivers the world over," he explained to Madeleine with a serious tone, nodding curtly.

"Well, m'sieur, I readily join your cause," Madeleine said with equal gravity.


"'Tis been a few days and I do not think that I have actually introduced myself, miss. Please forgive me. It's been a hectic few weeks," he confessed, while Elise was occupied with her meal. "Euh ... I am Edmond. And I have overheard several times that you are Madeleine, miss, so - "

Madeleine had just dipped in a polite curtsy when Edmond indicated the customers who were approaching. She turned to look over her shoulder just in time to see Cavalier, Bardot, and Augustin moving toward her.

"Evening, mademoiselle," he grunted at Madeleine. "So as to spare your precious patrons, maybe we should talk business in the back?"

Madeleine hesitated for just a second, and then nodded to Cavalier, saying nothing, but motioning for him to follow her to the back room.

When the four of them arrived at Guillaume's makeshift playroom, Madeleine knelt beside her son and instructed him to go sit with the man and the girl by the fire. She couldn't have said why she trusted them to keep her son safe, but it was better than having him near Cavalier. However much she may or may not have trusted Edmond, she definitely trusted Cavalier less.

Once Guillaume was safely out of earshot, Madeleine began to speak.

"M'sieur, I gave you your money just yesterday," she said, her voice betraying not a hint of the jitters that were forming in her stomach. "I put it in your palm directly. Two days early, I might add," she pointed out.

"Yes, well," drawled Cavalier, who smelled of stale drink, "we can't fight off potential troublemakers in this frost, not without proper coats. It'll be an additional three louis."

"That's impossible!" Madeleine was angry, and it was showing. "Is it my responsibility to clothe you? Another three louis a month-"

"You misunderstand, mademoiselle," Bardot interjected. "It's not three more louis a month. We need weekly paying, now."

"You cannot be serious!" Madeleine said, her voice rising both in pitch and volume. "I can barely afford what I pay you now! And what of your other clients? Do they continue to pay you more and more every time you have a new whim to indulge?" Her cheeks were flushed and she felt like hitting something. She knew she shouldn't lose her temper, especially when she was alone here with three men each the approximate size of a garden shed, but it was absurd that they continue to demand more of her, especially when the riots came closer and closer to her inn every night. She toyed nervously with the wedding ring she wore on a thin chain around her neck. Nervous habit.

[Edmond Ivon d'Aoust]

Edmond didn't know whether to be relieved or not that the tension didn't escalate further, as Madeleine opted to cooperate with the small party instead. He caught her eye before she turned to retreat to the back room, and he could sense fear behind that mask of impassiveness she wore; she was quite good at it, but he supposed it was a necessary skill of one of her profession.

Surreptitiously he slipped the gun back into its place, before looking to Elise, who was staring after the four, distraught.

"Who are they?" she asked, her brow furrowed as she took another bite of potatoes.

"Bad men. Probably from a gang. I suspect that they extort many of the businesses in the area," Edmond thought aloud, taking a gulp of ale.

"Extort?"

"Uhm ... they threaten good people with violence in order to get them to pay them money."

Elise's brow crinkled even more, but she said nothing else, still working on her food.

At that moment, a brown-haired boy came scuffling out of the room into which Madeleine had disappeared. He paused and looked around, spotted Edmond and Elise, and immediately went padding over to them.

"Hi," he greeted shyly, taking a seat next to Edmond, opposite Elise. He still had a toy soldier clutched in his hands, and he focused on it, if only to avoid the gaze of the others.

"Hi, I'm Elise," Elise chirped. "What's your name?"

"Guillame," the boy murmured, looking up at them from the corner of his eye.

"Edmond. Pleasure's mine, good sir," Edmond chuckled, trying to keep them in good spirits. Even so, his eye remained trained on the door.

The boy remained tensely silent, and Edmond felt a bit sympathetic for him, but when shouting began to thunder from the direction of the backroom, some of the patrons looked over in concern, though most were too drunk to notice or care.

Of course, nobody budged to see what was going on.

Edmond frowned and then looked to the two children. "Can I trust you two to remain here? I just wish to see that Miss Madeleine is well."

Guillame gulped but nodded.

"Let me see your toy soldiers. Do you have more?" Elise piped up, scooting over onto the next chair so she could sit next to Guillame once Edmond had stood.

With the two children occupied, Edmond straightened up and then crossed the room to the bar, stepping behind it and making his way into the back room just in time to hear the middle of the conversation.

"Do they continue to pay you more and more every time you have a new whim to indulge?""

"They certainly do, if they want their properties and loved ones to stay safe from the rabble out there," Cavalier sneered, while the other two laughed malevolent laughs.

"Laziness cannot be sustained indefinitely by others' hard-earned money," Edmond spoke up, a frown still on his face as he strode to stand between both parties, drawing right up to Cavalier, hardly a few inches from his face. With his hands folded behind his back, Edmond raised a brow expectantly, his stare unwavering.

"So you don't have the coin to pay us, but you have enough to hire a new bodyguard eh?" Cavalier sneered, meeting Edmond's stare.

"No amount of bravado will slow this bullet as it passes through your gut," Edmond returned quietly, the click of his pistol sounding out as he pressed the muzzle against Cavalier's side.

The other two moved as if to draw their own weapons, but Cavalier called them off.

"Stop!" he barked. "Back off."

Edmond's gaze remained unwavering, focused on Cavalier.

After a few more moments of silence, Cavalier scowled and took a step back. "Think about our offer, hun. We'll be back soon. Maybe with a bit of a surprise." He sneered, glancing around the room as his buddies and him made their way to the door. "Bet you and your little one are pretty close, eh?"

Chuckling darkly, the three were finally out the door.

Edmond sighed and stowed the gun away again, turning back to Madeleine.

"I ... apologize, I probably should not have interfered," he muttered thoughtfully, already worrying about that little gang. Wounding a street rat's pride without squashing the rat entirely was a sure fire way to invite some sort of spiteful revenge.

"Guillame is sitting out with Elise though," he assured her as an afterthought, managing a halfhearted smile as he turned and stepped out into the common room again, where Elise and Guillame were indeed still at the table, playing with their toys.

[Madeleine Aguillon]

Madeleine was pacing the room and did not see Edmond enter it, but her head snapped up when she heard him speak. The way he quirked his brow reminded Madeleine forcibly of Gervais.

"So you don't have the coin to pay us, but you have enough to hire a new bodyguard eh?" Cavalier sneered, meeting Edmond's stare.

"No amount of bravado will slow this bullet as it passes through your gut," Edmond returned quietly,
and Madeleine thought she heard the click of a flintlock.

"Gentlemen, I will not have fighting here," Madeleine declared firmly, making it clear that she was not to be dismissed. "Monsieur Cavalier, I pay you to keep the riots away from my inn, not to host them in my back room."

Cavalier snorted and said, "Think about our offer, hun. We'll be back soon, perhaps with a little surprise." Though the words themselves might have been construed as threatening, his tone was oddly polite, as though he might return with a Christmas turkey or a fine trinket.

"I look forward to our next meeting," she said, equally polite in her manner, and the three men left the inn.

Madeleine, who was shaken, but did her best not to show it, smoothed her skirt and tucked a stray curl behind her ear. Her hair, which she always wore tucked into a white lace cap of her mother's, had tumbled loose and wavy down her back. She busied herself with putting it right, just to give herself a few more moments to compose her thoughts.

"I ... apologize, I probably should not have interfered," Edmond said, surprising Madeleine. She was so distracted she thought he had left with Cavalier and his gang.

"Do not apologize," she said simply, examining her reflection in a small mirror that hung on the wall before turning to face him. "You were kind to interfere, as you call it. Cavalier is greedy and crude, but I find that I cannot challenge him, because I have seen him eye my child. I worry for Guillaume. He is a sweet boy, much like his father. But he has no friends, because I will not let him play outside, because of the fighting. It is silly, perhaps," she added with a shake of her head. "But I cannot let any harm come to him. His father would never forgive me, and would haunt me for the rest of my life."

Madeleine followed Edmond back to the common area, where she smiled to see Guillaume getting on very well with the little girl, Elise.

"He loves his toy soldiers," she said with a sigh and a shake of her head. "They belonged to his father once, and he even falls asleep each night with the General clasped in his hand." She stood in the doorway and watched the two children giggle and play.

Guillaume's voice floated over to Madeleine and Edmond, and the young mother was astonished to hear him speaking so many words in succession. Guillaume spoke very little, even to Madeleine. She didn't worry about it, because he was a very expressive little boy in other ways, and affectionate. She knew he was smart, because at only four he could already count to twenty and write his name, although he still wrote it as "Gollum." But he was learning, and she would find him a teacher someday who would nurture his mind and spirit.

"He knows all the words to the Lord's Prayer," Madeleine bragged. "We say it together, every night before bed. It's the only time of day I can count on hearing his voice."

[Edmond Ivon d'Aoust]

Edmond nodded thoughtfully as they walked back out to the common room, throwing a glance around the backroom one last time before the door swung shut. Toys littered the floor, including a broken wooden rocking horse in one corner, and a chest with a rusted lock that probably held more playthings.

That explained a bit more about Miss Madeleine. By her words, Edmond was about ninety-nine percent sure that his earlier suspicions had been true: that her husband, Guillame's father, was gone. He might even go so far as to guess the cause of death - Guillame hardly looked any older than five years of age, and if Edmond remembered anything with clarity, it was how long ago the wars had ended.

"I apologize for your loss," he spoke, the apology seemingly spontaneous, though his gaze was on Guillame, and one could surmise that he had drawn conclusion from him and the way Madeleine spoke of him. "He is a fine boy. I understand why you care for him so."

Stroking his chin, he watched with a faint smile as the two children across the room chattered away, absorbed in their game with the soldiers. The sight reminded Edmond of something, and he began to muse aloud, his brow furrowed.

"I had a daughter of my own once. And my sister had a son. The children spent practically every waking moment together, whether it was playing or tutoring or ... hm." He trailed off, looking confused, as if he didn't even know what he was talking about. "But they both passed away young, on a particularly harsh winter."

He stopped, then, blinking stupidly. Where had that come from?

Shaking his head, he quickly changed the subject.

"Perhaps Elise will come say hello to Guillame more often. They get along fine when left to their own devices," he thought aloud, watching as Elise piled all the soldiers back in front of Guillame before slipping off of her chair, her basket back on her arm. It seemed she had somewhere to be - wherever urchins had to be at any hour of the night - and so she bade Guillame goodbye before coming over to Edmond and giving his hand a pat.

"Thank you for supper, sir. Thank you, miss," the girl squeaked, blinking up at them with a wide smile.

With that, Elise skipped on out the door, and soon Guillame reappeared by Madeleine's side, his eyes brighter than normal, no doubt from the elation of having made a new friend. He grasped onto his mother's hand, the tension of the previous encounter with the gang members having been temporarily forgotten.

"Well, you look to be in high spirits again, sir," Edmond chuckled, beaming at the child. "As for me, I have some more ... euh ... exploring to do. Here's for Miss Elise's meal," he added, passing Madeleine the appropriate coin. "Goodnight, both of you."

With that, he turned to head out the door for a bit of a walk. The spontaneous remarks he had made earlier about children had confused him even as he was saying them. He had children? And a sister? Where had that come from?

"I must be mad," he sighed to himself as he meandered down the sidewalk, snow crunching underfoot. It had been a strange evening.

As he wandered, he happened by a line of shops that seemed to be devoted to metal and leather crafts: a silversmith, a goldsmith, a blacksmith, a gunsmith, and even a tanner.

He stopped outside the window, peering in. They were closed by now, though he could see in a couple of the windows some clerks still finishing up the records for the day.

He thought to come back the next day to inquire about employment when he spotted a 'help wanted' outside the gunsmith's shop. Pursing his lips in consideration, he made a 'hm' sound to himself as he kept walking.

As he passed the tanner, though, he noticed that the storefront was all cluttered. Maybe the place was closed? Permanently?

"Waste of a good shopfront," he muttered to himself, peering through the dust and webs with a shrug.

He continued on his way, exploring for the next hour or so before heading back to the hotel for a good night's sleep. At least, that's how he had intended the evening to go, and the next morning, he would wake tired again, even though he could have sworn he had gone straight to bed with no incident the night prior.