Ultramont: Les bons viveurs

Campus des arts, Université Collège St-Ignace à Gabréal
14 décembre 2021

"Take some raphenol if your head hurts, Jean-Luc."
"God, why do I always do this to myself? I always tell myself it's a bad idea to drink on school nights."
"Take it easy, you're a Habitant, after all."

Jean-Luc and Charlotte were both walking across the bricked floor towards their Anthropology class. They were late, again, because of Jean-Luc's remediate condition.

"Cider, again?"
"It's underrated, dude. You have no idea until you try it."
"I've always found there's two kinds of people. The kind of people who praise the good word of cider unendingly, and those who couldn't give less of a shit."
"Well maybe if you'd come out with me, you'd change your mind!"
"Don't holler, you're going to make your headache worse."
"I know... Sorry."

The two arrived outside the door to the grand lecture hall. Charlotte peered inside to see an entire assembly of students, vigilantly writing notes down into their books, typing away at their computers and their tablets, and the professor deep in discourse on ethnolinguistics.

"Well, are we doing this again?" Charlotte asked.

Jean-Luc held his hand to his forehead and sighed, saying nothing.

"Come on, Jean-Luc. It'll take five seconds to get form the door to your chair."
"Everyone is going to look at me..."
"Then next time we shouldn't be so late!" Charlotte laughed.
"Let's just go..." Jean-Luc whined.
"It's our last class. We have a final exam next week!"
"Let's just..." Jean-Luc nodded back down the hallway.
"Where are we going to go then?"
"Let's just go back to the car."

A dark wintry landscape eclipsed the dark morning sky of the deep winter. Pink and orange phantoms rose quietly from the horizon. The pair exited the building into the early cold, a cloud of steam pouring from their faces as the humid air met the outside. Their car blinked orange lights in the student parking lot, beckoning their pilots to come through.

"We need to cross the street."

The two shifted their gazes across the icy plateau, shrouded in slush and mud.

"Now!"

They booked across the skating rink, stopping just far enough to slide quickly to the other end of the road out of the way of other cars. They hopped over the snowbank and hurried to the car.

"It's freezing." Charlotte remarked, "open the car, quick!"

Jean-Luc thumbed the car remote as fast as possible to no avail. He tugged on the door only to be granted his solace by the mechanical thunk which released the handle. The two jumped into the car and huddled themselves as Jean-Luc started the heat. The dash read "-24°C", cold enough to kill.

"So we're skipping class," Charlotte started, "what are we going to do instead?"
"I'm just going to rest for a minute."

Jean-Luc proceeded to recline his seat and bury the side of his head into the headrest.

"You're not going to sleep, are you?"
"No, just resting."
"You look like you just want to nod off."
"I could go for a bagel."

The image of a Gabréalais bagel sat directly in the mind of Jean-Luc.

"You probably do need food. Have you eaten anything since last night?"
"No."
"Okay, well then let's go to La Tireur."
"La Tireur? No, their bagels are garbage. Let's go to Délices de lux. The Iraelian bakers there know exactly what they're doing."

Charlotte scoffed, "Look, any bagel shop will be fine... Can you will yourself to drive, Jean-Luc?"

The image of the bagel was illustrious and saintly. The golden drizzle of butter sent a beam of light unto Jean-Luc. He would drive... For the bagel.

Jean-Luc placed one hand on the wheel and readjusted his chair. He peeled his eyes open and held down the clutch, shifting the car into reverse. He tilted the car out of the lot and began to evacuate the parking lot, drawing a mental map towards Délices de lux.

"Don't fall asleep at the wheel." Charlotte warned.
"Why would I do that?"
"You've fallen asleep at the wheel before."
"No I haven't."
"Yes you did! I remember after we went to go see Les Muses Anciennes at that church basement, you fell asleep at the wheel right in front of me! You were veering off of the road, Tabarnak!"
"I barely shut my eyes, I was just distracted."
"Jean-Luc, my friend, you were having a dreams! I could hear you starting to talk nonsense!"
"You know, when you yell, you sound a lot more Santonian."

Charlotte scoffed.

"You fell asleep... There's no doubt about that."
"Less anger, more bagels, Charlotte."

Over the rough hills the car went. As the sun grew higher and higher, the darkness fell swiftly behind the Péries which walled off the cityscape in the distance. Jean-Luc reached for his sunglasses and covered his face with them. Charlotte began tapping away at her phone, looking for last minute gifts which she could order just in time for noël.

"I was looking at some gifts on Nile. I still haven't gotten your present."
"Figures, last year you put the receipt in my gift instead of a gift receipt; I saw you purchased it literally the day before."
"That... Yeah that was my bad, I didn't know the different between a gift receipt and a regular receipt."
"I also saw that that hockey jersey was discount."
"Tâches-toi! If you were actually my best friend you would be appreciating my thriftiness."
"Oh, that reminds me. I want to go thrifting this weekend. I have some donations to make too."
"Oomph, I can't go clothes shopping on the weekend anymore, I see too many people from work."
"Do you actually see that many people from work?"
"Sometimes I think everyone in Gabréal works at that fucking stadium."

Suddenly, after a long winding turn, the pair were confronted with the old port of Gabréal, situated right on the Douves. A dilapidated brick-built clock tower bearing the words "LA RÉVOLUTION N'AURAIT AUCUN FIN" greeted the motorists as they passed by. The artisanal air of the old port was refreshing. Some days, it seemed like the only place in the whole country that wasn't a cluster of post-Fascist Wars experimentalist construction projects. At last, the bright blue-and-white walls of Délices de lux appeared from behind some street-level venues. The smell of fresh toasted bread lingered all throughout the block from their ovens. It circulated through the car, enticing Jean-Luc evermore.

---

Délices de lux, Gabrielville, Gabréal
14 Décembre, 2021

After making his order, Jean-Luc sat down next to Charlotte at one of the old birch tables.

"You know, you can get brisket here now. Did you know that?"
"Brisket? I feel like you'd want brisket more than a bagel."
"That's why I got both."
"Both!? Can you afford that?"

Jean-Luc quickly silenced Charlotte with his finger.

"That's not a nice thing to yell in front of everyone."
"Well, I doubt anyone would feel bad for you. It seems like everything's getting more expensive these days."
"No, no, no. It's not the price of anything, salaries are just getting cut. Did you hear about the government bailing out Médisant again?"
"Yeah, I heard about it. My brother works for Médisant so he's pretty scared. Even their lab techs are getting the foot."

The order came swiftly. An elderly Iraelian woman came over to the table bearing the precious silverware, atop of which sat a beautiful golden bagel dripping with butter, and a few good slices of brisket.

"We have a bagel and brisket for the monsieur, and an oeuf croûton for the madame."
"Thank you." Charlotte smiled.
"You must be hungry hungry ordering brisket this early. Luckily we have some of the fresh stuff saved from last night."
"I know, you always do, that's why I come here in the morning." Jean-Luc laughed.
"You look sour, mon gars, too much cider last night, I can tell."
"How can you tell!" Jean-Luc exclaimed.
"I could tell just by his face. His eyes go all... Droopy."

The server laughed as she put down two glasses of ice-water.

"Anything else for the table?"
"We're good thank you." Jean-Luc said.
"Bon appétit."

The brisket was soft and filling. Jean-Luc slid some of it under the bagel and took a firm crispy bite. It was a joy to eat such good food, the guilt of skipping class evaporated as the sesame seeds fell before his lips.

"Now, you're looking better." Charlotte admitted.
"I feel better."
"Well, like I said. We can blame the Imperium for our problems or we can try to move forward."
"I love complaining though. I mean, if we fought for the Faraways, we'd have lower gas prices too."
"We did fight for the Faraways, and we did get lower gas prices. You can thank Scalvia for that."
"We didn't fight hard enough."
"For a gay man you certainly sound straight."
"If you were gay, you'd know that our brothers-at-arms are idols."
"I remember you talking about those pictures of the Predicean legionnaires."
"They're too easy. They just wear pants that accentuate."

Jean-Luc forked the last of the brisket into his mouth. Charlotte scoffed as she took a sip of the jingling water.

"Predice would be a nice place to go to if they weren't at war." She admitted.
"Even at war, I think it would be nice."
"Just wait till you get bombed by a communist."
"Oh the communists. They're not all that bad. Even Rayvostoka's willing to collaborate with us."
"Because they're in the exact same situation as us, Jean-Luc. That doesn't make it a good country."
"Think about their fruit though. That delicious fruit... Dripping with peasant blood."
"You're disgusting. We have our own orchards in Bas-Tenébrie anyways."
"Yeah. Although sometimes I can't even tell where which fruit comes from."
"Well, Tenebrians grow their fancy pasta wheat, grapes, nectarines, pears, stuff like that."
"Well I like grapes and nectarines. But a nice big watermelon is my kind of fruit."
"I'm not even sure where those come from to be honest..." Charlotte finished as she crunched into her sandwich.

There was a brief silent pause. Jean-Luc stared out the window to observe the old port. St.-Justin's Basilica began to appear from beyond the water, its palatial dome reflecting sunlight right onto the town like a beacon. Closer to the shop stood a public ice rink, packed with early-morning skaters going about the place.

"How is Théo?" Jean-Luc asked.
"Théo's Théo. Last week his car got caught on an ice patch right on the Motoroute, his car went straight into a tailspin and crashed right into somebody's Leithangur."
"Oh my god. Were you with him?"
"Yes, I was. It was horrifying. I thought we were going to die."
"What was the damage?"
"He has good insurance, so it was all covered."
"I'm still on government insurance. When I crashed the car last year they still made me pay like 200 livres."
"Well, Théo's dad works for his insurance company, so he has ties."
"Gotcha. Well, I hope he gets a nice new truck."
"He's thinking of buckling down to a coupe."
"That's unheard of for a man with a truck. Are you sure he isn't..."

Jean-Luc motioned his thumb towards his mouth and pressed his cheek with his tongue.

"Oh, ew! You'd probably be begging for him if we was, I just know it."
"Bitch, the fuck? Too ugly for me."
"Christ, would you just finish your bagel?"

Jean-Luc begrudgingly stared Charlotte directly in the eyes as he fit the entire half of the bagel right into his mouth and chewed, inching his face closer and closer to her.

"Swallow it! Let's get going."
"Where are we going?" He gulped.
"If we're not going to class, we're going to study. You can come to my place."
"Oh my god. I love your little flat with the noisy radiator. It reminds me of my pépère's house."

Jean-Luc left 23 livres at the table as he collected his utensils and stacked them on the plate. Charlotte grabbed her coat and moved to the register to pay. The two proceeded out the door afterwards, as the sun finally shot up from the horizon, marking the start of the day. The server quickly nudged one of the baker's with her elbow as Jean-Luc and Charlotte left the building.

"Those two are going to drop out for your bagels, Aaron."
"Let them. Maybe for once, they'll tip you more than three livres."

Castellanus Subway Station, Lineum
23 décembre 2021

"Seniore?"

A profound darkness became interrupted by a voice. Who is it?

"Seniore?
"Eh?" Martius announced.
"Seniore, you fell asleep on this bench."

Martius shot up from the circular bench, quickly steering his head towards the display monitor at the end of the station, "NEXT TRAIN: to Pileus station, 12 minutes." He then shimmied his phone out from his pocket and looked at the time. It was already 8:02.

"Shit." Martius exclaimed, "I fell asleep at the station, and now I'm late for work."
"It happens to the best of us, Seniore." The man next to him chuckled.

The two paused for a moment as Martius stirred himself from his grogginess.

"My name is Martius by the way." He sighed.
"Salve, I'm Antonius. So you're late... Where do you work if I might ask?"
"Oh, no worries, I work at the Yalken store in Bonacassum. I was supposed to be there at eight but it looks like I'm gonna be late."
"The Yalken store? You speak the language?"
"You have to know a little bit to talk to some of the customers."
"What do you guys sell?" Antonius asked.
"We import quite a bit of crab... Other than that, fish, some chocolates, flags, stuff like that."
"Why buy from there? There's plenty of seafood markets here in Lineum."

Martius giggled.

"Oh, well... People don't really understand just how much crab there is in Yalkan... They go for less than a pound of salmon and sell for really good money here," Martius explained, "We do all the prep and cooking in the kitchen."
"That sounds like a scam."
"It's not a scam at all! Pride comes before wisdom for most, and if it means we get to sell the crab for a good price, we're not going to complain."

Antonius scratched at his beard. He seemed to be an older man despite his youthful face, this was hinted by tufts of thick grey hair at the sides of his ears, covered by his toque. He was looking at his phone for a moment, trying to pull up Martius' place of work.

"Five pounds of crab go for sixty livres? Then you were not fucking with me, it really is that cheap."
"Look, try not to spread word too much. My boss doesn't like it when everyone else hears about the good deals. You know, young people like me come in thinking they're going to get a good deal only to get shooed out."
"With respect, Seniore, I've just met you and you were the one to make the foolish decision to tell me about this bargain. You should be thankful I'm not telling everyone in this entire train station. I will only save you once, my friend."

Martius frowned as he stuck an earbud into his ear and began to play some music. There was still six minutes until the next train would come.

"The least you could do is learn some words. Y'know, Hej, farvel, tak skal du have." He muttered.
"Hello and goodbye and... what is that last one?" Antonius inquired.
"It means thank you."
"Why is it so long?"
"Well it actually means thanks you shall have."

Antonius laughed audibly, much to Martius' surprise. He shuffled his songs a few times before seeing Antonius remove a newspaper from his handbag.

"It's phrases like that which make Umbrial the best language."
"Wow, really?" Martius squinted, "The best language... In Eras?"
"Yalkan-ish, all those other crazy Gotic languages?"
"Jalkansk" Martius interjected.
"Santonian? Why it's just Umbrial but spoken through your nose! In Umbrial we get straight to the point, we know what we mean."
"I mean... Antonius, you're just saying things now."
"What does that mean, saying things? Aren't we all just saying things?"

Martius scoffed, shuffling his music again.

"I know who you voted for."

Antonius crossed his arms, "Who I voted for, Seniore, is between me and... The election people. How you kids make everything so political these days."

"We either care too much or don't care enough, make up your mind." Martius said.
"I said neither of those things. It was you who struck the first blow, Seniore."
"Fine, no politics, but I think it's silly to rank cultural inventions like languages. It's not like the Yalken can control how weird they sound." Martius admitted.
"Aha! So you think they sound weird."
"What?"
"Yes, you just said! They can't control how weird they sound. That is what you said, yes?"
"Oh Christi, Antonius. You're like every one of my uncles. Admonishing me one moment, messing with me another."
"Every old man you know will be an uncle to you. That is how Tenebrians are, we have lessons equipped for every child."

Suddenly, the intercom interrupted the conservation with a faint rhythmic chime. Ding dang dong! A voice then began to speak over the growing vibration of the terminal, "Next train, Pileus station, arriving at track two."

"You coming on this one?" Martius asked.
"It seems I have no choice, Seniore."

Martius sighed, although he was still interested in the accompaniment of his newly acquainted. He stood up and turned to him.

"Well, I never asked where you happen to be going, Antonius. You have work too?"

Antonius pulled his face into a frown as he rose up from the bench, quickly tossing his newspaper back into his satchel. He paused as the two waited for the train to come by. Down the dark tunnel, lights began to shine through.

"My wife is in the hospital. I am visiting her again today."
"Oh. That's terrible to hear, I hope she's doing well." Martius admitted.
"Yes... I appreciate it, though, I am afraid she's not."

Martius frowned as well and shook his head, he didn't want to agitate him and seem inordinately upset. At once, the silver train rushed through the station, rattling back and forth over the tracks before eventually slowing to a complete stop and offering room aboard for the two passengers. Martius hopped on board with Antonius and the two sat down on a pair of dated navy seats which faced the window. The carriage doors began to beep profusely as they sealed themselves shut, marking the departure of the train.

"So, she's not well, what's... the matter?" Martius asked.

Antonius' eyes were fixed to the passing beacons of light trailing past the windows of the carriage.

"She had an accident at work. She was a cook, she handled a huge pot of hot oil by herself..."

Martius winced in shock. This man he had just about had enough of, now sullen in grief.

"Deus meus. Has she been... hurt that bad?" Martius asked.

Antonius breathed deeply.

"I know it's none of your business, Seniore, but truthfully I have no other man to speak about this to. And all I can say about my wife is... the woman I know now is not my wife. She has had everything taken from her both within and without. And with the lawsuit, and her family, and the doctors, and the bickering... My life has been quite an ordeal, especially so close to Christmas."
"And just as I thought you were a perfect stranger living your own perfect life, who just thankfully woke me from oversleeping." Martius admitted.
"Do not think of it too philosophically, Martius. I've had this conversation a handful of times... only with myself."

Martius scratched at his head and peered out the window as the tunnel wall reached its end. The sun's fresh light poured in through the exit and gave way to a bright view of the river as the train crossed a narrow copper bridge. A voice peered in through the intercom once again, "Next station, Bonacassum."

"I get off here." Martius muttered.
"I can hear it in your voice. Don't feel pity for me, Seniore, you have an entire life to live yourself," Antonius interjected, "I will be riding all the way to Pileus... to the hospital."

The train began to slow once again as the view of the river faded abruptly into another concrete tunnel. The lights of the next station approached. Martius wished to say something before the train stopped and he had to make the unbearable sprint to work, but as the carriage came to a stop just before his platform, he could think of nothing. He stood up, moved his gaze away from Antonius, and proceeded quickly through the doors of the vehicle. Martius heard the train depart again as he jogged up the escalator, all the while silently pondering the confusing interaction he had experienced.

Asile St-Étienne, Capotville
14 août 1937

"We're talking in piastres now, Augustine." Pelagius muttered from his desk.

Augustine lifted her bowed neck in fatigue. She crossed her hands from the armrest.

"Piastres? Is that much different from last quarter?" She asked.
"I'm afraid so... Soap, new clothes, winter coats, tranquilizers, milk... food. It's all going to get harder to come by."
"Surely we can go another year without new clothes. Mending them isn't all so bad." Augustine admitted.

Pelagius sighed and withdrew from his accounting, massaging his eyes with his palms. He slowly donned his glasses and stood up from the bureau. Augustine rose too and approached the desk.

"The kids look like they're wearing rags. Mending their clothes isn't going to cut our losses. But, you're right... At the end of the day, milk and food is all that matters. These kids don't deserve this."
"You were late today. Did the police hassle you again?" Augustine asked.

Pelagius grabbed his briefcase and pulled his hat down from the coat rack.

"It's been happening almost every day, Augustine. Eventually, I'll have to pack up and leave."
"The day you leave is the day the orphanage falls away."
"The party isn't kind to me, to you, or the kids. I can't keep fighting this alone. I'm going to lose everything here, my life too eventually."

Augustine sighed as she grabbed the door handle and revealed the hallway through which Pelagius would leave. As he turned towards the exit, he stopped to look at Augustine.

"The département wouldn't dare leave this place unattended. Whoever they bring in after me will be forced to deal with this mess same as I." He stated.
"I know that, I just wish it was you and not some fascist."
"Augustine, you need to be more careful. Will you promise me you'll keep the kids off the streets this week? I can't have policemen running into me with bruised children in their grasp asking me if I even have even an ounce of heart for these children in my 'cruel Tenebrian heart', I'm being made out to be a monster around here."
"The kids always find their way out, Pelagius. They hate this place."
"I hate this place too. But I hate being known as the cruelest housemaster in Capotville even more. My hands are tied, and my mouth is blocked."

Pelagius moved out into the hallway. Moving closer to the door, the sound of children playing about the orphanage seeped through the walls.

"The expenses for food are where they always are. Try to get the quality stuff before it runs out at the grocery store, okay?"
"Yes, Pelagius. Salva."
"Aurevaro, Augustina."

Pelagius walked through the entryway and closed the thick brown door behind him. Augustine quickly locked it and returned back to the office to collect her things. Two children proceeded to enter the hallway behind Augustine.

"Maîtresse Augustine! Maîtresse Augustine!" They exclaimed.
"Oh Seigneur... Children, what's the matter?" She replied.
"Grégoire cut all the hair off of his head!"

Augustine's eyes widened. She could barely believe what the two were suggesting but knew from their conviction that it was inevitably true. She walked through the doorway and paced slowly into the common room where kids were playing and talking. At the corner of the room, Grégoire sat, surrounded by his peers, with an atrocious mop of clipped and patchy lochs hanging down from his head. Augustine marched towards them as the entire room's energy began to fade. Suddenly, everyone had turned to watch Augustine.

"Grégoire, what have you done to yourself?" Augustine posed.
"I wanted to try something new." Grégoire admitted.
"New? Tabarnak, Grégorie! Tes cheveux sont partout!"

Augustine launched her hand from her pocket and gripped the young boy by the nose. He began to struggle against her.

"You never let us change our hair! You cut it the same every time!" He squealed.
"And this is what you decide to do about it? I'm going to have to cut all the hair off your head now! Right now!"

She begrudgingly pulled the child out from the common room and placed him in the washroom. Before he could turn to escape, Augustine sealed the door and locked Grégoire inside. Frantic rapping ensued.

"Maîtresse Augustine! Let me out! Let me out! I'm sorry! Let me out please! Please-e-e-e-e-e-e!"

Augustine returned to the common room where the children slowly began to go about playing again. She closed the door behind her.

"If I find out any of you have been cutting hair or otherwise done something completely stupid, you will meet the same fate as your friend Grégoire. My job is to keep you all safe, but if you can't even manage yourselves for ten minutes while I meet with Oncle Pélage, then I won't have a job, and you won't have a place to live! Do I make myself clear?"
"Oui, Maîtresse Augustine."
"Nurse Amandine will be coming shortly to give you all your medicine. Goodnight, kids."

A chorus of groaning filled the room as Augustine turned to leave. Augustine returned to the washroom where Grégoire was perched in the bathtub with the curtains drawn. Augustine quickly rinsed her face with her hands under the tap and proceeded to open a cupboard and grabbed a straight razor and a dusty can of shaving soap, placing it onto the sink.

"Grégoire? Are you behind those curtains?" Augustine asked.
"Leave me alone." He demanded.
"Grégoire, come out right now please."
"Go away!"

Augustine grunted as she flexed her knuckles and perched herself near the bathtub with a wet towel around her loosened collar. Bizarrely, she did nothing more than just sit in silence as Grégoire peeked unsurely from behind the shower curtains. He moved back into the tub before calling out: "Hello?"

"I'm here, Grégoire." Augustine whispered.
"I told you to go away."
"And so I'm gone. I won't speak one word as long as you don't ask me to."
"Good!" Grégoire hollered.

An uncomfortable silence filled the washroom once again. Nothing but the melodic dripping of the tap could be heard. It took Grégoire only seconds before he moved the curtains out of the way and confronted Augustine.

"What are you doing?" He said, pushing his uneven bangs out of his eyes.
"Resting. Just for a moment." Augustine whispered, her head leaning against the cool marble tiles.
"Are you going to fix my hair?"
"It sounds like you want me to now, do you want me to?"
"No!" He hollered again.
"Then relax, Grégoire, I'm not going to touch your hair... As long as you stay in that tub."

Grégoire's face inexplicably began to redden and tears began to pour from his eyes. Augustine lowered her head and watched as the child began to burst into a fit of crying.

"I just wanted to do something new."
"Yes, yes, I know that, Grégoire. But this isn't 'good' new. I promise you I'll find you a new hat once I'm done with your hair."

Grégoire stood up and wiped his face with his sleeve before moving tiredly to the latrine. He promptly fell onto the seat and closed his eyes.

"I know you want to leave this place, Grégoire. This isn't where you belong. But someday, mon cher, I promise your eyes will have the privilege to see the wonders of this world. But for now we have to move one step at a time... And I need to fix what you've done to your hair."

---

Asile St-Étienne, Capotville
15 août 1937

There was a horrific banging which plunged through the walls of the orphanage. Augustine rose immediately from her bedroom and rushed to fit her housecoat over her shoulders. The hallway towards the office was dotted with tiny heads poking out of their doors. The children had been awakened by the banging and were now frightened.

"Stay calm, mes chers, I'm going to see who it is." Augustine reassured.

Augustine turned the corner and placed herself in front of the door. There were three more harsh shakes through the door before the sound of the police could be heard outside.

"Asile Saint-Étienne, we're looking for Augustine Leblanc!"

Augustine opened the door, "It is I, I'm Augustine Leblanc, what do you want?"

The leather-capped sûreté nationale officer entered with a tired grimace on his face.

"Mademoiselle Leblanc, the Ministry of Health has discovered that fifteen of your twenty wards in this asylum suffer cognitive and moral impairments, is this correct?"

A large police truck with green caging was idling in the grey mist outside the building. Augustine let the man in and brought him to her office to discuss further. Augustine made her way to the great desk in order to seat herself, but was blocked by the hands of the policeman, who sat himself in the desk first. Augustine awkwardly retreated from the table and sat at one of the smaller wooden chairs facing the window.

"Yes, the Ministry of Health has been performing a tiresome inspection, and we are required to survey the residents each orphanage in the département. All orphans are wards of the Ministry of Health and thus all orphanages have been answerable to the Ministry since last year."
"So that is why my pay has gone down." Augustine complained.

The policeman sighed and rolled his eyes and understood Augustine wanted him to get to the point.

"Mademoiselle Leblanc, I'm afraid you must allow the Ministry to take custody of these children. They have grave cognitive deficits and their best environment will be a sanatorium where they can recover properly."

Augustine choked, "Why must this happen?"

"I have had to do this at two other locations today, Mademoiselle, I can make sure the children are safe. I cannot bear witness to more tears, do you understand?" The officer said.

Augustine nodded her head as droplets flooded her eyes. She rose from the chair with the officer and went to arrange the children's medical records and information. Upon exiting the office with the bundles of papers, she found a group of officers slowly going through the building and escorting children outside.

"Maîtresse Augustine, where am I going?" a young girl called as she vanished through the front door.
"Salut, Maîtresse Augustine. Goodbye!"
"Nice and easy, everyone out of their beds!" The leather-capped officer announced.

Suddenly, the young child Grégoire bursted from the doors off his room and attempted an escape.

"Oy! L'enfant là! Catch him!" An officer exclaimed.

Grégoire was then snatched from the nose by one of the subordinate officers. He began to flail as the other officers took haste to escort him from the orphanage.

"No! Please! Maîtresse Augustine! You have to take me back!"

Augustine raised her fragile hand as her vision was clouded in tears.

"Maîtresse Augustine, why won't..." Grégoire's voice fell flat as the door was shut behind him.

"Mademoiselle Leblanc, you must trust me. I don't wish to do this anymore than you do... Can you get ahold of yourself?" The leather-capped officer finally asked.
"Where are they going? Will they be miserable?" Demanded Augustine.
"That is not up to me. I haven't been to the place. All I know is that there will be many children there... and they will not be alone."

Augustine raised her arm towards the remaining five children who peeked through the cracks in the door. They swarmed around here and tugged at her skirt in shame. Augustine finally reached into her pocket and pulled out her pay in banknotes. Some of the funds were to go to the children, but it seemed there were none who could benefit from it anymore.

"If that screaming boy, Grégoire, jumps off the bus... please... you will let him go?"

Augustine raised the heap of banknotes in her hand. The police officer eyed the money and fixed his gaze to Augustine's face.

"Combien?" He asked.
"Fifty... and two ration stamps I have."

The police officer handled the money in his hands and pocketed it swiftly.

"You better have bet well on that kid, or this will be mine with no repercussions."
"I know. Please give him the chance."

The police officer smirked and stirred towards the doorway.

"Thank you for cooperating with us. We will be seeing each other again soon, Augustine. Salut!"

The officer quickly closed the door behind him. The sounds of asphalt crunching and spinning motors moved through the front of the building until the bus finally down the street and out of sight. It was no better than a stick-up. The children were gone.

The Strait of Gwladcan
18 juin 1502

Monseigneur,

Today three years have gone since Monsieur de la Salle's trade mission in the barbarian Osinéstrie province and his return to Piémont with news of promising business in the east. It was soon thereafter that the honourable Eastern Aurorias Company established their counter of trade at Exechêtre to ship the precious goods purchased from Suavidici tradesmen installed in the city. And what's more, our honourable Company here in Côme also established counters of trade in the Vaigan lands.

Yet it is today that my own fleet crosses the strait of Gwladcan. And in our future perils we seek the wares of legendary leadsmiths discovered in Suavidicum, where the honourable Eastern Aurorias Company has installed its most profitable factory.

---

Comptoir St-Étienne, Vaiga
25 juin 1502

Monseigneur,

It is with great joy that I record our fleet's arrival at the St-Étienne counter in Vaiga where company men there have seen an accumulation of Oats, barley, fish, textiles, as well as glassware, spices, and the pelts of exotic animals. These gifts will be delivered to you, Monseigneur, in our return voyage.

The merchants have lived well at the counter and have enjoyed the business of the locals. They have made a compelling effort as well to learn the Vaigan tongue which my crew and I cannot understand, though they have introduced some habitual expressions into my own dialect for reference. Some have confessed also to living in common law with women in the local town. This, I am sure you are aware, has been a common occurence for traders-at-sea, even those on excursions in Meterre.

Two men at St-Étienne have died of illness, Monsieur Jean Boullot and Monsieur Jean Lapanier passed of illness some months ago, the reports of which I will deliver personally to their wives in Plaisance.

The commodities which I have seen placed into the stores of our revenue schooner are already in abundance in Saintes, though there are indeed unique curios to behold. Vaigan glassware is of the finest quality and I felt it necessary to appropriate a lesser decanter for the ceremonies which do happen to occur on lengthy expeditions. You of course, Monseigneur, will be pleased to know the most beauteous selection has been procured for your own delight.

In about ten days' time we will be installed in Suavidicum where we will be forced to confront company men from Piémont. We are enthusiastic to know that they may require our assistance. The captain here has received these appeals from Piémontese carracks sailing these waters. As I am your most devoted and catholic servant, it will always be in my character to assist a fellow Catholique when he is in need.

---

The Viridian Ocean, near Suavidicum
7 juillet 1502

Monseigneur,

Today we approach the walls of the eastern metropolis. The sea has been ruthless and nine men were lost in a storm. May God rest their souls.

---

Suavidicum, Imperium Suavidici
8 juillet 1502

Monseigneur,

It is today that our thirtieth day at sea shall pass and there have been a great many deal of excitements. The Piémontese men with whom I must remind you are our honourable competitors have been so wonderfully kind to us. Moreover, the city of Suavidicum is a jewel of the east. The port at which we have been granted access is called Aqua Grigio in the Umbrial tongue, whose speakers settled into the east so many hundreds of years ago out of our own homeland. Though we stray far away from the palace, this district is magnificent. I have attached in this journal a series of illustrations which may please you to observe, Monseigneur. If they do not, may I remind you that I have been employed on advice of my navigational skills and not my artisanship.

When we arrived at Aqua Grigio, the workmen hailed our vessel in the dozens. It appears these men have established a Piémontese quarter in this district of the city. The policy of the Compagnie des Aurores Orientales permitted these workmen to accompany their wives into the Aurorias, and many of them have started families. This policy I strongly suggest be adopted by the Pouilles Company if ever we are to fully commit to trade in the east. I must also mention that the Vaigan custom is also shared by these traders of taking wives in the new country, though I must confess my worry in christian men currying the favour of pagans. Nonetheless, with three tradesmen lost over the years, 4 sons and 6 daughters have been born, which has only proven to me that our company can also prove capable in establishing a permanent counter deeper into the continent.

The appeals which I was made aware of in St-Étiene have been revealed to concern a lack of effects from home, particularly among the women here. It appears these families suffer greatly from nostalgia, and speak a great deal of the belongings which had to be left behind. To appease them we provided some of our own relics such as saucepans, cutlery, books, clothing, furnishings, and teas. Hopefully Piémont will improve in providing regular shipments out to tradesmen. Though I must admit that I too seem to be dreaming of home.

We billeted with these families and inspected their goods. Gold, silver, and tin is in abundance. Porcelain, silk, and lumber have also proven plentiful. We procured some of these precious commodities thanks to the charity of the famed captain himself, Monsieur de la Salle, who lives in the quarter with his wife and child. Our conversation was brief but we made time to delight in our adventures in this land and speak of the interests here in the Aurorias.

The peculiar abundance of lead has also been noticed here, in quantities which cannot conceivably be produced in the Pouilles, nor in Piémont, nor Saintes. However, the leadsmiths we search appear to not originate in the metropole itself. Monsieur de la Salle has indicated if we travel ever north of the city, we shall discover the existence of a place he calls La Passe which is the mouth of a great channel between a northern province and the pagan metropole. He has also revealed to us the existence of a great city near there called Lineum from which he has learned the lead arrives.

---

La Passe, near Lineum
10 juillet 1502

Monseigneur,

Today we number eighty-six after seven men died of pestilence. May their souls rest in peace. It appears to be the same sickness which affected the traders in Vaiga. We have made an effort to confine ourselves, though half of us have fallen ill. We hope that with sufficient time we will be well enough to continue our voyage.

---

Lineum, Tenebria Borealis
18 juillet 1502

Monseigneur,

Today we have felt the rich earth of the land called Boréus by the locals. The city of Lineum is pristine and shows a blend between native custom and Suavidici custom which is not unlike how it was in Exechêtre. Though here, the Emperor's rule is uncontested as demonstrated by the amount of soldiers and magistrates who pass through the port and in the streets.

We have established an outpost on the eastern fringe of the strait where we shall assemble the ressources needed to advance in the construction of our trade counter. The ambassador from Constantius, governor of this province, has provided a writ of customs and has informed us that we are not at liberty to purchase grain here as it is a protected good. This has not posed a problem for us however, as my Umbrial-fluent tradesmen have been welcomed into Lineum's bread stores.

We inquired also about the leaden wares which were discovered in Suavidicum and the ambassador himself confirmed that the metals were forged in the city. At last we have found the leadsmiths we have been searching for! It seems that this strange land is abundant in the metal which comes from the remote northern parts where some few locals go to fish and others to harvest the minerals from the earth. Merchants convey the raw product for smelting in the south where Lineum lies.

This news has been exceptionally interesting. I am still aware that before I departed from the port in Côme, you mentioned to me the importance of installing a permanent company plantation overseas. If I can put into action this proposal somewhere near this lead-rich city, your ambitions may prove to be greatly prosperous, Monseigneur. Therefore I will continue north in my second ship, the Grand Saint Michel, in search of a plantation when our affairs here are concluded. I hope to see what more these new lands can offer the Pouilles.

In the coming days we will also have a personal audience with the governor. I have been warned by Monsieur de la Salle that the magistrates in this land are furiously overbearing and skeptical of Santonian trading efforts. Thus when my own time comes to speak with Constantius, I will not speak of a colony. That is a political affair, after all.

Lineum, Tenebria Borealis
24 juillet 1502

Monseigneur,

As I was apprised, the governor Constantius has certainly proved to be an inconvenience. When I was first introduced to him in the forum at Lineum, I was rushed by my own party of lictors into what seemed to be the entire assemblage of the magistrates in this province. Yes indeed, the Suavidici custom of political kinship has been observed here in the Boréus for some time. I was saluted by a great crowd of merchants, lieutenants, prefects, and a select few senators. To each of them I conferred my greatest gratitude before moving forth towards the provincial governor with whom I was appointed to see. When I faced him I presented myself as your subject, Monseigneur, and merchant-envoy from the Pouilles in the Kingdom of Saintonge.

I was informed that he held pity for barbarian merchants and wondered why we Santonians should think that the Suavidici would ever require our goods. And I must admit, Monseigneur, this empire has no great use for our manufactures. They possess all things. I informed the governor that it was indeed in the interest of his favour that the company was to make many purchases, though I warned him that the magistrate at Aqua Grigio had made many kind concessions in return. I was promptly dismissed and returned to the logging outpost that afternoon. My activities seemed trifling.

Nevertheless the weather here fairs wondrously, Monseigneur. It is much like that of Plaisance or Antofagosto. There are gorgeous farms among the woodlands that extend far beyond the walls of the city. Wheat grows so strong and bountiful that I'm sure it could sustain an handful of installations here on the Boréus. With each day that passes the more confident I am that this place shall offer the perfect solution to our treasuries.

---

Lineum, Tenebria Borealis
29 juillet 1502

Monseigneur,

Today we have finished in the construction of our trade counter at the port in Lineum and we have commenced trade with some of the locals. Tradesmen went into the smiths and the markets to effect our commerce. Our initial offerings of gold, silver, and tin have lead us to the acquisition of leaden ingots from local smiths. The metal seems to be forged in fist-sized bricks which are brittle yet remarkably heavy. This is a peculiarity of Tenebrian lead. We will soon discover if these bricks can be refined into the kinds of alloys which may serve our artisans and plumbers and arquebusiers in the Pouilles and across the Kingdom. They were loaded onto the cargo schooner and will await your inspection upon our return to the Pouilles hopefully before the year is out.

I have been recently informed the Grand Saint Michel has been readied by her crew and I feel at ease entrusting the remainder of the fleet here with the integrity of the trade mission as I begin my journey northwards tomorrow at dawn on the anniversary of my birthday.

I have heard that the northerly province shares not the splendid sunshine in its winter months and the earth there is barren. Though now in midsummer it will be safe to pass into waters while the winds are merciful and the heat is agreeable. With confidence, it should not take long to find a suitable place where a colony may be started.

---

Aliria, Tenebria Borealis
30 juillet 1502

Monseigneur,

I have discovered more settlements along the western coast of the Boréus. There is a small town called Ordurum several leagues from the port of Lineum and another town called Aliria which we have discovered this evening as we make our sleeping preparations upon the Saint Michel. The towns are sparse and have only fires on high hills to serve as their guiding lights. The temples here serve not only as places of worship, but at places of business and government. They are at the centre of these communities and they bear the provincial standard of Tenebria as fief of Suavidicum. Nonetheless, the fires of leadsmiths continue to fill the sky with smoke. Though these towns lack proper walls and rely solely on the perennial harvest of grain, each farm has made a place for a lead-forge.

We have now passed the wild mountains called the Gladii which fall between this place and Lineum, and I believe my crew has become rather obsessed with their own bravado. According to rumour they had never once discredited an opportunity to feast and be merry, and they have taken to addressing themselves as the forty-six Voyageurs. As it was this evening the anniversary of my birthday, I was warmly invited by these men to partake in their festivities. I could not help, Monsieur, but to indulge in their courteous debauchery, and was hence made the forty-seventh Voyageur among them.

I quickly discovered the Voyageurs had kept from my eyes a purchase of wine made in Suavidicum. This I discovered is how they have managed to satisfy themselves with little rum to spare from this galleon's stocks. Though it is a flagrant violation of our company's charter, I had not the virtue nor the strength to exercise discipline this evening. In drinking this wine these men partook in games and dance which I observed and arbitrated alongside my quartermaster. It was soon thereafter that they began brawling and wrestling in nothing but their tunics upon the cold, hard planks of the poop. As it was I who was honoured that evening, I made it the responsibility of the quartermaster to render my crew back to their barracks for morning duties, and to my own quarters I returned to slumber.

The moon here casts a ghostly shadow of light upon the water and has made the deck of the ship pale and luminous. In the towering masts of the Grand Saint Michel I have begun to see a cross in blue flame. A most consummate and christian sailor should always appreciate the fire of Saint Elmo, blessing a ship in its voyage.

The Cape of Good-Luck
1 août 1502

Monseigneur,

May it please you to know that today we have been swept quickly into virgin land. Past the settlement called Lincastra, many leagues from Aliria, came rising hills and valleys of rock and most unpleasant country. A wall of mountains passes in our east and towers from afar when the high cliffs of this half-isle, which was named Good-Luck, do not fall in the way. Swept east by the current, we passed the cape well and are now penetrating a great bay where the mouths of many rivers lie. This land has dazzled my own crew in its perfection. Though the peaks of a nearby mountain crest upon the inlet, there is much flat terrain suitable for several large habitations. And there is much forest which workers could clear in order to supply a colony. There are many animals to hunt, and the air is warm.

The Voyageurs are eager to explore the land and have been speaking of it habitually. Some have proposed moving here with their wives and beginning a habitation themselves. Others speak of the great wealth and prestige that will come from an overseas colony should they establish one there. It was then yesterday evening that I announced a campaign to drop our anchor at the head of the river which we have wistfully named Urbaine, the river of the city, and explore its contents. I have selected a committee of seven men which include my chief woodcutter and my cartographer to continue deeper into the interior. The remaining forty crew will occupy the Grand Saint Michel and the bank of the river where we have erected a small camp.

Before our grand adventure is to start however, the Voyageurs have prepared a second evening of festivities in order to commemorate our discovery. I have heard speculation that one of my officers confiscated a stolen shipment of 'burning wine' from the port at Vaiga. I will perhaps make an occasion for these spirits to be made available to the Voyageurs much like the vin du pays which was purchased black-handedly at Suavidicum. The higher our spirits rise when we are together, the closer we as a crew grow in faith. Such brotherhood is essential for enduring the wilderness in strange lands. Though I fear there is much hardship that awaits us beyond the appearance of this elysium.

---

The Urbaine
2 août 1502

Monseigneur,

Our canoe was hoisted down at sunup from the deck of the Grand Saint Michel and foregathered in its cabin we have spent several hours ascending the river Urbaine. As I have mentioned before, Monseigneur, the entirety of the confluent lands have rich earth and should be recorded for the possibility of future settlement. However four leagues upstream and the country gives away to gravel and stone and treacherous rapids.

We disembarked at the northern bank of the first bend and quickly discovered the northern country was not so remote, for a party of locals with three arquebusiers among them appeared from above the shoal. We submitted our own harquebus and presented ourselves warmly. They were most kind thereafter, and led us hospitably into their own fort which was concealed in the deeper woodland.

We saluted the chief merchant named Sparax who controlled the fort Garroca and oversaw the shipping himself. Knowing of our commercial mission, he felt greatly honoured to show to us his last parcels of lead which are to be collected during the cold season when the rivers are unnavigable and shipped out to other establishments in the summertime. We payed him tribute and he permitted us to remain at Garocca to rest and to eat.

Provided for the common supper that evening was a great flatbread prepared in oil, garlic, and fennel. It was accompanied by a stew of carrot, tomato, salted caribou, juniper, and wine. The meal came much more appreciated than the bland preparations which had been set aside for our expedition.

I trust if our presence is enjoyed that we will remain at the fort for some a time and speak more with Sparax about the country with my cartographer. I have also arranged for my woodsmen and my bowmen to assist the chief merchant in any way they can.

---

Garocca, on the Urbaine
7 août 1502

Monseigneur,

Our sojourn at Garocca has been most provident to the trade mission. We have been informed of ten mineral deposits in the immediate area and are now planning to embark there tomorrow. Unfortunately we will never again be returning to Garocca.

Sparax had caused much frustration to my cartographer, Jean-Marie, these few days we have been inhabiting here. The chief merchant suffers at times from an overbearing admiration of the self. This rift has led tragically to a great break in the peace among the locals and we.

It was yesterday night as we broke bread that Sparax asked of me why this mission would not rather partake in the ‘benefits of his civilization’ at one of his ports, than install in the far north. Jean-Marie was most displeased by this question, it seems, and apprised the chief merchant that this country seemed fine a place to surpass his pagan commerce.

Our invitation expired that night and in foul spirits we withdrew from Garocca. We reestablished our encampment on the bank of the Urbaine once more and will attempt to follow the stream on foot tomorrow to more merciful waters.

---

Vaundée, on the Urbaine
10 août 1502

Monseigneur,

Proceeding southeast by land we discovered a vast marshland with red, fruiting berries rising from the bog. We discovered that the flavour of these berries was quite agreeable and we made rest in this valley which we have named Vaundée in order to reap the fruit for our return journey. Some of the marmalades will be set aside for your enjoyment, Monseigneur. May you know the Boréus well by the flavour of the cranberry.

It has been an unbearable inconvenience to no longer hold post at Garocca but at least the advice we have sought is now ours to pursue. We will approach one of the intermediate excavations, called Lapis tere by the merchants, by sundown tomorrow.

Plomberies, Gabréal
15 décembre 2023

Jean-Luc was looking at the stars one night, shrouded in his winter parka, trembling. He had been waiting at the streetcar stop for what seemed like forever, yearning to return to his flat in Laplace. The lonely halls of the university had grown tiresome and depressing. When his neck got sore from staring, he looked back down to the tram tracks ahead and saw the figure of a paper bag flying by. Délices de Lux was written across it.

"I haven't been to that place in years." he mumbled.

Then, the streetcar clankered across the tracks in front of Jean-Luc, sweeping away the paper bag. He stooped his head towards the door and quickly found himself a seat at the back of the tram.

After a few minutes, he realized there was a person squinting back at him through the multitude. Jean-Luc tried to make them out in the hazy light, but didn’t recognize them until they up and started towards him. At last, he identified the tall Métis student in his economics class, Alexis Gavia.

"I thought you looked familiar." He smiled, taking a seat next to Jean-Luc.
"Que t’as? I've never seen you on the one-eleven tram." Remarked Jean-Luc.
"I'm going to pick up Véronique." Alexis said, "in Dukestown."
"Nice, nice. What are you guys up to this evening?"

Alexis smirked. "We're going to Le Loir. You know, the bar in Vanouïes. One of my friends is doing stand-up there."

"Yeah? That's the place where you get to smoke down in the basement, right?"
"That's right." Alexis smiled.
"Sounds like my kind of place."
“Well, why don't you tag along?" Asked Alexis, "It's a Friday night after all. Didn't you write your last exam today?"

Jean-Luc sniffled. "Well I mean I would, but I have to pack for this ski trip thing I'm going on tomorrow."

"Oh. Are you going with Charlotte?"
"Yes." He nodded.
"What's she up to these days?"

Jean-Luc paused. "Not much. Just school stuff, mostly. I think she has another semester left to finish up her psych degree.”

Alexis laughed. “No-no, I mean what's she up to?"

"Well," he admitted. "We haven't hung out in a while. I started dating Hegio and she started dating Mathieu and hanging out all the time has gotten pretty inconvenient, I guess.”

Alexis shrugged. "But you're going on a ski trip together."

Jean-Luc smirked bitterly. "Yes."

Alexis nodded and looked up to the street display peering from the roof. The next stop was at Présages, a few blocks north of Dukestown proper. He threw his hood over his head and patted Jean-Luc earnestly on the shoulder.

"Come for a drink after the trip."
"I will." Jean-Luc replied.
"And one more thing." Said Alexis.

He rose from the seat next to him as the tramcar came to a rackety halt at the platform.

"You might not have all the time in the world to hang out anymore, but don't let it get to you. A relationship is realizing your partner is your new best friend. That's not a crime, and both of you know it."

Alexis turned to the door and shuffled out with a crowd of people. Jean-Luc sat for a moment in contemplation as the streetcar began moving again. He turned towards the window in an effort to gaze at his retreating classmate, but a sudden jolt in the tram's motion threw his forehead straight into the glass. Some nearby faces winced at the embarrassing affair.

"Tabarnak!”

He peeled his face from the window and touched two fingers to the red mark which had bruised his temple.

"Just what I needed." He muttered.

---

Fort-Iberville, Ultramont
16 décembre 2023

Hegio and Jean-Luc were seated next to one another in the back of Mathieu's Roland Cruise. They had spent two hours traversing Motoroute 6 on their way to Triège, the winter holiday capital of the country.

From Triège, there were several ski resorts just a few minutes out of town. The four passengers were headed for the one called Mont-Marmottes. The town was still another hour away, but by now the group was passing into the valley between the Péries and Léandre, the gateway to the Sengéants.

Hegio was asleep, and Jean-Luc was playing with his Taiga Ü game tablet. There came a moment when he saw Charlotte look up from her phone at him through the rear-view mirror, and then dart her eyes away. He had earlier remarked how shifty her gaze had been when Mathieu came to pick him and Hegio up and introduced one another.

Jean-Luc didn’t like it at all, but he continued playing with his Ü.

"So." Mathieu sprung at him, "have you been to Mont-Marmottes before, Jean-Luc?"
"Nope." Jean-Luc replied, his eyes fixed to his screen.
“Well, I hear it's the best hill this time of year." Mathieu chuckled.
"Can I play a song?" Charlotte interjected.
"Yes, ma chère."

Charlotte grabbed the phone from Mathieu's lap and giggled as she pulled it away. Jean-Luc squinted disdainfully. Hegio was beginning to rise from his nap and began feeling for Jean-Luc's arm. He harrumphed and set aside his video game in order to appease him. Charlotte played her song.

"Do you remember this one, Jean-Luc?" Charlotte asked.

Jean-Luc raised a brow, wondering if that had been the first time she had spoken directly to him this entire trip.

“Uh-huh." He muttered.

Hegio nudged him, "You're all keyed up, are you alright?"

“Uh-huh.” He repeated.

Charlotte started to turn up the volume, glazing over Jean-Luc's pettishness. Hegio let go of his arm indignantly and produced his phone from his knapsack. Everyone now seemed to be letting Jean-Luc fuss on his own, which only frustrated him more.

"This is the turn off onto the 6." Said Mathieu, "If you keep going on the 5 you'll end up at Houillère-des-Bonhommes where pépère lives."
"Did he drive down from there when I met him at Délices de Lux?" Asked Charlotte.

Jean-Luc whipped his head up again. He opened his mouth as though to say something but remained put.

"Yep. He told me he loved that place. That was a really good recommendation on your part." Mathieu smiled.
"I took somebody to Délices de Lux, once." Jean-Luc interjected.

Hegio and Charlotte turned to Jean-Luc uncomfortably. Mathieu grunted.

"You... You took Hegio there?" He inquired.
"Nope, I took your girlfriend there."

Hegio muttered something like ‘stop it’ as he hooked his earbuds into his ears.

"Cool..." Mathieu said carefully. "You're gay though, aren't you?"
"Just because I'm gay, I can't take Charlotte to grab a bagel?” Asked Jean-Luc.
"Uh… I don't know man, I guess you can do whatever you like." Mathieu mumbled.

Charlotte turned to Jean-Luc with a deep frown. "I think I preferred the time my meal actually got payed for."

Jean-Luc picked up his Ü with venom and brought returned to his racing game. He’d made his unhappiness known, though he felt none the better for it. There was little left to be said for the rest of the car ride onwards.

---

Mont-Marmottes, Mont Théroux
17 décembre, 2023

After arriving at their rental home, the carpooling couples met with two other friends of Jean-Luc's who were also interested in doing some skiing over the Christmas holiday. Atticus and Hughes had driven down from Édmondville where they had been working as engineers for Pétronat and Transnordique respectively.

Jean-Luc was relieved to have additional company in this awkward time, especially the kind he could light one up with. So by the time the group of six arrived at Mont-Marmottes at dawn the next day, Jean-Luc, Atticus, and Hughes were already stoned.

Mathieu had parked the Cruise in the lot outside the base camp and Charlotte ran inside to grab everyone's lift tickets. Jean-Luc had forgotten to buy his own in advance, so Charlotte begrudgingly agreed to get one for him.

Jean-Luc painstakingly dressed himself in his skiing gear. He wore black snowpants, a Collège-St-Ignace hoodie, a black puffer vest, and a thick black toque with his goggles and balaclava secured around his head. As he clipped into his skis, Charlotte returned with his lift ticket and cornered him behind Mathieu's Cruise.

"Can I say something?" Charlotte asked.

A pang of anxiety washed over Jean-Luc as his mind came to every horrible conclusion. He wanted desperately to say ‘go away' but at least knew better than to ignore her when all he wanted was her attention.

"Yeah?" He replied.

Charlotte sighed. "I'm not sure why you've been so bitter, but you’ve been acting like a baby." She stated, “You’re gay, so I'm not sure why you need to have this weird ego-battle with Mathieu as if we were ever together. He was really excited to meet you and you've given him nothing but grief this entire trip."

Jean-Luc's deep red eyes flashed lucidly. Another punch to the gut. What else was new?

"And by the way, it's stupid dangerous to not wear a helmet skiing."

Suddenly, Hegio swooped in from around the back of the Cruise wearing his deep blue skis. Charlotte crossed her arms and gazed over at her ski boots as he drifted over.

“So, are you ready to go, mon cher?” Hegio smiled.
“Uh… Yeah.” Jean-Luc murmured.
“Wait, where's your helmet?” He asked.

Charlotte darted her eyes back up at Jean-Luc and shook her head thoroughly as though to say ‘I told you so,’ before hopping away to clip into her skis.

"You told me you brought your helmet, so where is it?" Demanded Hegio.
“I brought it to the rental, but I didn’t bring it to the hill. I just think it looks more badass when I’m not wearing it.”

Hegio scoffed. “So are you trying to impress me or Charlotte? Cause it seems like you’re not having much luck with either of us.”

“I’m not trying to fucking do anything!” Jean-Luc hissed.
“Oh, yeah, sure. You’d better think about whatever it is that’s making you such a dick because I’m driving myself crazy trying to figure out why you even call these people your friends.”

Hegio whipped his skis back around and pushed off towards the rest of the group.

Jean-Luc trailed behind them all, wrapping a final joint with the tips of his fingers as they rushed towards the gondola with renewed spirits. Jean-Luc had taken to simply ignoring them all now. Each cable car only fit a group of four, so as they made their way through the queue, Jean-Luc was left to board the gondola with only Atticus and a Goyanean couple. Probably vacationers.

Atticus turned to Jean-Luc and smiled sheepishly. “So I overheard what Charlotte said and I’m sure you don’t want to talk about it…”

“Not particularly, no.” Jean-Luc said.
“Look, Jean-Luc, you need to let loose and have fun a little bit. I don’t know what this awkwardness is between you and Charlotte but if it was seriously that important you’d never have come on the trip in the first place. That’s what I think.”

Atticus put his hand on Jean-Luc’s shoulder. Typically Atticus’ affable nature wouldn’t have tipped him off so much, but his compassion seemed to give Jean-Luc the shivers.

“Fine. Here it is, then. The problem is that I’m worried Mathieu isn’t the right kind of guy for Charlotte.” Jean-Luc admitted.
“Uh-huh. Well, don’t take this the wrong way, Jean-Luc, but how can you ever have control over that? Charlotte’s free to make that choice herself.” Said Atticus.
“Of course it’s her choice, that doesn’t mean she’s going to make the right one.”
“Right one? What’s wrong with Mathieu?”

Jean-Luc smirked. “He’s too much like me.”

“Really? In what way?”
“Rich Habitant boy, same taste in music, same taste in movies…”
“Okay.” Atticus laughed. “First of all, your taste in music and movies is not as quirky and unique as you’d like to think it is. Secondly, if he’s like you, what’s the problem?”
“She dumped me for me.”
“Then that’s a good thing!” Exclaimed Atticus. “Do you know how many toxic victim-complexes Hughes has gone through since we moved to Édmondville? Now, I get that you’re both guys and that’s another level of mental gymnastics, but Hughes’ lady-friends were absolutely nothing like him. So if it turns out Mathieu is everything you are, then why worry in the first place?”

Jean-Luc sighed. “I just miss our friendship. Hegio’s who I love now but…”

Suddenly, Atticus grabbed Jean-Luc’s fist and held on as he tried to pull away. “You know what happens when someone lets go of your hand?”

Jean-Luc tugged his mitt back. “What?”
“You get it back. So let go!”

Just as Atticus had given him his answer, the doors of the gondola swung open and the two Goyaneans rushed out to grapple their skis and poles from the outer compartments. Atticus followed, and then Jean-Luc. Both men jumped into their skis, but found the top of the hill regretfully absent of the other four.

“Must’ve gone on without us.” Atticus said, wrapping his scarf around his neck, “Meet me at the mid-mountain chalet. We can share that joint, I’m feeling pretty mellow myself.”

Atticus promptly skied off towards one of the main runs. Jean-Luc’s head was swimming with opposing thoughts. Regrets parried against his frustrations. He took a deep breath and pushed himself forward towards a frosty path guarded by a sign bearing a black lozenge.

Jean-Luc started down the hill and found it was cruel on his legs. Each mogul threw his feet here and there, pumping the muscles repeatedly. The pain thankfully occupied his mind, though the poor visibility was also disconcerting.

The shadow of the piney green belt on either side of the run began to wash over the path and it became harder and harder to see where the banks stopped and began. Nevertheless, Jean-Luc pushed through.

As he accelerated through a final crest of moguls, Jean-Luc identified a jump carved out of the righthand side of the hill. It was marked with a red triangle blazoned on a pole lodged in the ground.

“A jump! Hell yeah.” He whispered to himself.

He advanced carelessly towards the sign and sunk to his feet in order to gain some speed.

“Not only is my hand free, so are my feet!” He smirked.

---

Police-aux-skis Post 4, Mont Théroux
17 décembre 2023

Sergeant Tremblay had enlisted with the Sûreté nationale federal police about four years ago and had accepted an assignment among the notorious police-aux-skis over the holidays as an incentive for promotion. After all, it payed much better to be a lieutenant and with his ex-wife out of the picture, there was little to get in the way of his ambitions these days.

While most of his comrades stayed back in Gabréal with their families taking time off, he had confined himself to a rickety, cream-coloured chalet at the top of a mountain with twenty other bunkmates. What’s more, there were just two washrooms to spare and only one had a functional shower. Needless to say, the mountaintops weren’t every officer’s cup of tea.

Tremblay perched over his cot with a coffee in one hand and a biscuit in the shape of a Christmas tree in the other. The biscuits had been sent up by his bunkmate’s wife, and they were highly appreciated as treats and packages never came up too often. In the waning hours of the day, the orange-pink haze of the setting sun radiated through the skylight and brought a bit of warmth to the cabin.

But the squalid calm didn’t last for too long.

“I need everyone’s attention, folks!” Hollered the chef-d’équipe.

Each man’s head snapped to face the officer at the radio station. They sensed the distress that resonated in the chef-d’équipe’s voice.

“We’re getting a forty-one-forty from Mont-Marmottes snow patrol. Missing skier. White twenty-year old male with black jacket and snow-pants. Possibly intoxicated. Captain Villeroy is firing up the chopper and C-team is a-go in ten minutes. A blizzard is picking up, about to be in full force in less than an hour. Hustle bones, folks!”

The news was even worse than Tremblay had expected. The call for missing skiers and hikers was fairly run-of-the-mill for the police-aux-skis, but the threat of a blizzard could be deadly. Moreover, the missing person’s description seemed to match perfectly with his son which he’d thankfully left back at home in Gabréal. Tremblay sighed and prayed that his own son would be smart enough to never go skiing while so strung out.

There was little time to get arranged. He hastily donned the deep green snow-pants and parka, blazoned with the emblem of the Sûreté nationale. Only by the time he had rushed out to the helicopter was he able to fasten his bright-yellow helmet to his head. The sharp bite of the rising wind flowed across his hands and face, ungloved and unmasked. With only minutes left on the clock, the helicopter launched from the chalet and swept over the mountaintop towards the peak of the Mont-Marmottes ski resort.

Tall pines cast deep black shadows across the hill that darkened the path as the setting sun inched further and further towards the white mane of the distant Mont Voyageur.

As Tremblay rode the edge of the helicopter with his skis and poles dangling from offside, he switched on his headlamp and watched the flurries of snow trailing north.

One after another, each member of the C-team cast themselves from the doors of the helicopter and landed with little elegance onto a nearby snow bank. The aforementioned C-team leader, Captain Villeroy, huddled around the rest of the squad and began barking his orders over the shrill of the wind.

“You five will start down the main path and scan the periphery. Snow patrol has already been up and down these routes with no luck.” He then pointed to Tremblay and two other officers, “and you three will join me in sweeping these two sidehills. We’ll be up and down all night if we have to. No one stops until we find this kid, understood?”

Each skier nodded and started down their path. Tremblay and another Gendarme named Acnes advanced in tandem down a slope marked off with a black lozenge, now draped in sleet and beginning to freeze over. They drifted their way down the hill slowly, aiming their headlights carefully among the tree-trunks in order to get a good look about them.

“See anything?” Acnes shouted.
“I’m not seeing anything at all.” Shouted Tremblay in return.
“Usually you see the skis first, pointing straight out of the snowbank.” She remarked.

Tremblay nodded and continued scanning his side of the run.

“You know, I have a kid his age.” He admitted.
“Yeah? How’s that make you feel?” She asked.
“Don’t know. I’m not sure why they end up doing stuff like this.”
“Kids aren’t always right in the head.” She shouted. “The more they think about others, the less they think about themselves.”
“You think this’ll be his wake-up call?” Tremblay asked.

No reply came from the left side of the run. Tremblay nudged his headlight down and whipped his head towards the Gendarme. She was standing still, with her skis nudged into a perch and staring deeply into the righthand side of the run.

“Did you hear what I said?” Tremblay shouted.
“You see that sign over there?” She replied.

The Sergeant looked back over at the hill before him. A few metres down, there was a long trench carved into the plateau with a wooden stick driven over, bent into the ground.

“What about it?” He asked.
“Watch out, it's marking a jump, but it's buried in the snow.” Acnes replied.

Tremblay skied down to the sign and edged over the trench. There was a small bend ahead of it, and over the bend the hill shot straight downwards.

“I didn’t even see that coming. Thanks, Acnes.”
“No problem, Sergeant.”

Tremblay smirked and pointed his skis over the hill, preparing to advance further down the hill, when suddenly a critical realization came to him.

“Wait a second. I didn’t even see that coming.” He repeated.
“What was that, Sergeant?” The Gendarme asked.

Tremblay inched a little bit closer to the trench and observed how it curbed slightly to the right. He nudged his headlamp back out into the greenbelt and saw whiffs of snowflakes piling up among the shrubs and the pines. Acnes coasted next to him and too, began scanning the tree-line.

“You think somebody will find this kid out here? If snow patrol couldn’t do it…” She muttered.
“You know how you were saying some kids aren’t always right in the head?” Tremblay asked, smiling.
“Yeah?” Replied Acnes.

The Sergeant adjusted his headlamp and focused the beam onto a great big pine branch that stuck out from a nearby tree. Dangling off of it was a thick black toque, dusted with snowflakes and pine needles.

“The bent sign, the toque.” Acnes realized, “He’s gotta be around here!”

She pushed past the line of shrubs and into the thick of it, swooping below the pine branch and coasting past a tall bank of sleet. Tremblay stayed close behind her as she advanced. Eventually, they stumbled upon the lost skier.

Cradled in an icy trough lied the figure of a man, with black snow-pants and vest powdered in white. His brown curls were thickened with blood which had streamed from a gash on his forehead. It was Jean-Luc.

“Get your radio out and let Villeroy know we found the missing skier.” Tremblay instructed, “I’ll get him ready to move.”

---

Centre Hospitalier des Sangéants, Triège
18 décembre 2023

Jean-Luc awoke in pain and sat up from his bed sensing considerable tightness around the skin of his forehead.

“Aïe.” He whispered. "What have I done?"

Jean-Luc found several stitches thrown across his head where he had encountered the accursed tree branch and he also felt bandages adorning the tips of his ears. Though he had been sleeping all evening and all morning, he felt exhausted. His eyes were heavy.

He squinted around the room and caught a glimpse of Hegio asleep on a recliner in the corner of the room with a pillow wedged between his face and the wall.

“Hegio.” He called out.

The man was in a deeper sleep than he thought.

“Hegio!” He called out, louder this time.

Hegio winced and the pillow securing his head began to slowly sag downwards. He opened his eyes suddenly and lifted his head, causing the pillow to slump upon the floor.

“Oh, Jean-Luc. Thank God you’re okay.” He groaned, rubbing his face with his palms.
“What time is it?” Asked Jean-Luc.
“Uh… Something like four or five o’clock in the morning.”

Jean-Luc peered into the blinds and saw a cascade of snowflakes twisting beyond the window outside. Other than that, it was nearly pitch-black.

“How long was I gone for?” Jean-Luc asked.
“Everyone was pretty much set to stay clear of you for the day.” Hegio explained. “It wasn’t until closing that we realized you had totally disappeared. Then, snow patrol went up to look for you. But they couldn’t find you. We were really starting to panic at that point, so snow patrol called Sûreté. An officer found you in the woods and brought you down to base camp in a big red toboggan. The doctor said you have some frostbite on your ears, a deep gash on your forehead, and you probably have a concussion, too.”

Jean-Luc sank back into the hospital bed.

“I really fucked up, didn’t I?” He whispered.
“Big time. But I think I’ll spare you my grief.” Hegio said. “Your mum and dad are on their way from Héauville. They’ll probably be here any minute and honestly, I’m not about to be here for that."

Jean-Luc sighed nervously. “I figured they’d be here. Do they know about…”

“That you were stoned? That you weren’t wearing a helmet? Yeah. Yeah they know all about that.” Hegio smiled venomously.
“Is there any good news?” Jean-Luc inquired.

Hegio unfolded his arms and produced a cream-coloured piece of paper from his knapsack which he had stowed beside the recliner. He leaned over from the chair and tossed it into Jean-Luc’s lap.

“It’s a letter from Charlotte.”
“Should I even be reading this if I have a concussion?”
“Just read the fucking letter, Jean-Luc.”

Jean-Luc sighed and lifted the letter up to his eyes, allowing the light from the hallway shine upon it so he could read it without straining them much.


After reading the note, Jean-Luc slid the paper onto the nearby nightstand and took a deep breath in.

“Cute letter.” He sighed. “That’s probably the last I’m going to hear from her for as long as I live.”
"Yeah, you think?” Hegio snickered.

Lynés (Lineum)
Mars 1864

Like the other landed families of Port-Saint-Ignace, I spend the midwinter at our antr'ivernal in Lynés; that is, a family estate to which all good Habitant households flock, with wings dusted in a flurry of snowflakes and hearts grown jaded with the eternal fields of white beyond the courtyard which measure higher and higher each morning. It has been so much frostier this year than all those other twenty years which I have felt, a consequence of Nature; who seeks so often the company of Lady Fortune, that we sailed in the waning days of December to Lynés. An early absence even as the old manorial traditions; which continue to be driven out with each passing generation, have set for its bourgeoning inheritors.

On the eve of Saint Sylvester's Day, we arrived in Lynés to find the eternal city decorated in the lights of the new year. Silver and gold-coloured ornaments decorated the leaden lamp-posts along the agorae so strongly radiant and haunting in the warm, hazy air. Tenebrian vendors sold fresh bread and wine out of their barrows along every avenue, water-ices, fresh noodles, sauces, figs, and luscious grapes come straight from the vineyards in the silver-tongue Empire and the plantations of the outer city: Saint-Champ, Athèsse, Prétoire, and Pilée. I begged my father to indulge on this special holiday. And in his usual generosity and love for his children, he handed two piasters to a crow-faced man with hair cropped at the forehead and dressed in a muted brown tunic and received in return a bag of fresh figs for our sweet treats that evening.

Saint Sylvester's Day came and went, and so did the many other days of January. Amable, my older brother, Claudine, my younger sister, and I, spent our days reading fanciful tales in the study of the great house; upon Arian lounge-cushions facing the jalousies that brought in the colours of the sea, and at the shoreline which was owned in common by several other families in Port-Saint-Ignace. Moreover, we mingled quite well with the Louverture's sons, and perhaps the Gauthier children as well, and even the scurrilous sons of the Taillepied family, who were generally the subject of unsatisfactory regards in our household. I began to feel, as I did every other winter in Lynés, that the Repaire des Vagues; the sweet name given to our antr'ivernal, was home.

But not everything was as I had hoped. I felt all throughout the past months that there existed some trouble. My father sent unusually for the département's deputies to join him by the hearth in the early winter and; placing sinfully my attention on the opening between the entrance to the foyer and the blackened hallway on the main floor, was saying: "Does not your Commodore know, Monsieur Clairemont, that a mere few cutters will not do against the warships of Gothis? Can he not place entirely the miniscule trouble of petty trade disorders and smugglers aside to confront the danger of Rivenbaerg's threats?" In that single moment I knew there was a greater issue which was not to pass so easily from me. For I had never heard of the name Rivenbaerg until I disembarked in Lynés, where seemingly every single person had known of the great drama that arose in the heat of the previous summer: the firm rebuke of the demands from our country made by the black Admiral of Andrenne. When I had first found this out in whisperings from one of the Taillepied's sons after a secret promenade along the dusky beach, I knew right away that these were war talks.

And so it came to pass. Come February, the town of Lynés had been flooded with a gravity so miserable it completely washed over the delights of our winter holiday. At Prétoire, which the locals called Pretorium, there was battle done. Andrennian gunboats sent barrages against Ultramontese ships! The details of this matter filled every evening chronicle, and our preoccupations drove the kindness and leisurely disposition right out of our home. Then, on a rather overclouded morning, my father shared news with Claudine and I that we judged even graver than that of war. He sat us down at the table on the patio and told us there was something unfortunate that he would need to add to our knowledge. The domestics had prepared a great meal of brioches, fresh eggs, cheese, and pâté chilled from the ice-drawer for us, yet we both refused to eat a single bite until he told us what he wished to say.

Father rubbed his tired eyes and started: "Children, it is with much displeasure that I must relocate you both to your Aunt's apartments in Paydors, some miles north of here. You must have heard the frightful and impertinent talk uttered by all manner of folk: that we are making war for the first time since we ourselves took arms against the Seigneur and his Publicans in red and blue coats. Well, this talk bears quite a lot of truth to it, and as a consequence of these happenings, Repaire des Vagues will no longer be a suitable or safe place for you ladies to spend the waning days of your winter."

"Oh, father!" Stomped Claudine. "Oh, you cannot do this to me! I have just begun to enjoy my stay in this house. I have made so many fine friends from evening invitations and found so many wonderful adventures in Lynés! Please, do not force us to make away. Have Annette leave rather than I! For she is much paler, and overall weaker than I, and she would sooner die should Lynés come under siege."
"Why you barbarian young thing!" I started. "Have you so quickly indulged in the rude sayings expelled by those villainous Tenebrian street-vendors? Have you so easily forgotten that when Amable persuaded you into the lake last summer, you shut yourself up in your room for three weeks in illness, with such a contempt in your heart that you said no more than a word to anyone in our house, and causing all that trouble for mother? Do you recall, little imp?"

As I continued in my vengeful refrain, Claudine began to pout her lip and tears began to stream along her reddened cheeks. She cried out: "You plain-looking thing of hell!"

At once, my father; whose gentle existence and remnant generosity had finally been boiled away by our red-hot tempers, caught both of us by the ear and threw us out of the patio into the sand of the upper seashore. "Both of you talk like the very savages which hurl cannonballs at our seamen and pretend to interrupt our waters! I will not have it in this house. Ah, no! I will not have it from my daughters. Should either one of you conjure malignant displeasure once more; like you have just done this instant, it will require for the offender a return journey to Saint-Ignace!"

Claudine continued to sulk, but cried only in muted breaths, for she feared the judicious wrath of our father.

"Tomorrow afternoon; once the housekeepers have arranged your effects by the gates of this house, you will be escorted by my faithful valet, Seniore Cato, to the docks along the Sacrum, where you will board a river-barge bound for Paydors. When you arrive, he will take you to Aunt Lydienne's estate in the valley and pass my latest message to her. Thereafter, you shall be in her company till I send for you once more at the end of March to return home. Is this understood?"
"Yes, father." I said.

Claudine uttered no intelligent reply save for sinking her nose and mouth into her little white handkerchief. My father took a menacing step towards her and repeated himself with a crazed glare in his eye and a ferocity in his words. She burst out tremblingly: "Yes, father!"

This was our last day in our antr'ivernal. What a complete misuse it was! Claudine kept scornfully away from me for nearly all of it; save for supper (much to my pettish satisfaction), and at the same time we both kept away from our brother Amable, who had the single privilege of remaining at Repaire des Vagues in order to accompany our father on his business endeavors of which there were plenty in Lynés, more so now; as I was informed by the housekeeper in her mild insobriety, because of the appearance of privateering in the seas of the lower Aurorias. I smirked rather childishly at my initiative to pass this frightful information on to Claudine, so that she might ridicule herself by refusing to board tomorrow's riverboat out of fear of pirate attacks during our voyage. I elected; however, to do away with this sinful thought. For it might be reconciled with a return journey to the wintry smog of Port-Saint-Ignace and a bruise upon my ear. In some way, I truly did sympathize with my poor sister. Yet her tendency to scorn me at her own advantage was a habit I could not tolerate. Being that as it may, I could even less tolerate the thought that my sun-kissed brother would have the luxury to remain in this beautiful house for the remainder of the winter, whilst I would be confined to a new estate under conditions of which I had no prior knowledge, and among total and absolute strangers.