The Lady Justice

Chapter XXVII: The Beginning of the Middle

A/N: This chapter is set in the present, where Kat and Tess are narrating their stories to each other.

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11 December, Year 32 of King Frederick V of Monrique's reign

Western Bordeux Dungeons, Bordeux

Monrique

There are very few things that can surprise the Duchess at this point.

"The Emperor's own mother was trying to have him killed?" she laughs humourlessly, "good Lord. She and my mother can be the best of friends in hell together."

The Archery Mistress leans her head against the wall, closing her eyes.

"I simply cannot comprehend what motivates some mothers to harm their own children thus," the Duchess shakes her head, "would they not have some attachment to the flesh and blood they birthed from their own bodies?"

"I used to wonder too," the Archery Mistress' voice is hardly audible, "but after hearing about your mother, I have learned to accept that some women are inherently insane." She shoots her a twisted smile.

"Touché, Harrington."

"Unfortunately," she takes a deep breath, "terrible she may be, I will be doing Dowager Empress Liese a great injustice if I place her in the same category as your mother."

The Duchess frowns. "Do you mean to say – "

Her friend runs a trembling hand through her matted hair. "It was so...easy, De Beauharnais," she shakes her head in disbelief, "on hindsight, it was too good to be true. We had hardly tortured our prisoner for a day – and he gave us the answer we so desperately sought."

The Duchess raises an eyebrow. "She is not the froleen, then."

"Fräulein," she corrects her, "and nay, she is not - but we did not know that then. As a result, for the next one month, we regarded her guilty."

"Did you arrest her?"

She shakes her head. "We needed more evidence to arrest her, De Beauharnais," she answers quietly, "not one person's word alone. Thus, we secretly had her followed, and her correspondence monitored. Natalya permanently joined our ranks once more to help with that task, since she lived with her mother at the Palace."

"It must not have been easy for the Emperor and his sister to learn about their mother," the Duchess is sympathetic.

She nods. "The Princess was heartbroken. However, she was adamant that her brother should not know about this until we had evidence," her friend murmurs, "the Emperor already had a lot on his plate. The Council was in an uproar over the kidnap - since many of its members' daughters were victims – and were calling for the Academy to be shut down, unless the perpetrator is caught."

"Added to that was a large uprising led by Prince Heinrich's furious widow that lasted a fortnight," she releases a staggering breath, "she was calling for the Princess to be arrested on grounds for murdering her husband – despite the fact that he was proven a traitor by the letters I had found, and would have been executed anyway, had he been alive."

"The army eventually put down the uprising, and the Emperor pardoned those involved," she continues sadly, "but he was upset about the whole affair for a long time. He had already lost a father figure, and now the family he grew up with also hated him."

"It was a difficult time for the royal family, and the Academy," she concludes, "and we all staunchly stood by each other: fellow comrade by comrade, and our loyalty to the Emperor and his family unwavering."

By this time, the Duchess has noted the small beam of light that seems to enter the Archery Mistress' eyes whenever she mentioned the Emperor throughout her story thus far, the gentle caress in her voice when his name leaves her lips.

There are very few things that can surprise the Duchess at this point.

"Loyalty?" the Duchess raises an eyebrow, "Harrington, do you truly expect me to believe that all you held for the Emperor is loyalty?"

The Archery Mistress' eyes widen at the question. A soft red hue slowly spreads beneath her pale cheeks, but at the same time, her eyes also fill with stinging hot tears at some remembered memory.

"Let us not talk about that for the time being," her lower lip trembles, "if I had a choice, I would not talk about it at all - but I did promise you the whole tale. I will tell you later."

The Duchess' voice softens. "Harrington – "

The Archery Mistress blinks away her tears. "Now, De Beauharnais, I believe 'tis my turn to ask the questions," she smiles weakly, as she sits upright, "what did Ned do with the box you gave him during his engagement? What happened to the petition you were gathering support for? How was your father doing?"

The Duchess scowls heavily. "Merde. Straight to the difficult questions, hmm, Harrington?"

"I believe in a direct approach," her friend shrugs.

The Duchess takes a deep breath. "Well, most of the women did decide to sign the petition, and went about collecting signatures in their own lands, while I moved back to Roche to take care of my ailing father," she confirms, as she closes her eyes, "Lord, Harrington....Papa was much, much worse in health than I had expected. I almost fainted at the sight of him when I arrived home. He could no longer move by himself, his feet had turned black, and he was coughing out blood almost every other day..."

Her voice falters slightly, and her gaze grows haunted and unfocused. The Archery Mistress gently reaches out to hold her hand in support, as she continues speaking.

"I was most angry with Clara for not informing me sooner - but I did not have time to argue with her over this," she trembles, "for the next one month, the both of us were on tenterhooks nursing him and taking care of him, as his life teetered between the world of the living and the dead."

Her ocean blue eyes gleam bright with tears, and vanishes even before the Archery Mistress can be certain she saw that moment of emotion. The Duchess has always found it difficult to express her emotions, even in her childhood.

However, having known her for so many years - majority of it as an enemy, and a couple of years as a friend - the latter senses that she does not want to talk any further about her father, and tactfully moves on to her next question.

"And what happened to Ned's box?" she asks softly.

The Duchess sighs. "Although I would not know this until much later - Ned actually lost the box on the night of his engagement," she rolls her eyes, "or rather, it was stolen from him."

The Archery Mistress stares. "By whom?"

"It would appear his precious fiancée was too curious for her own good," the Duchess cracks a weak smile, "especially since Ned had forbidden her from even looking at that box, let alone open it."

"Thus, Evie spent the next fortnight looking through its contents," she continues, "and spent the fortnight after that debating whether or not she should return the box to Ned – knowing well that there was a good possibility that he might call off their engagement if she did."

"I presume she eventually did return the box," the Archery Mistress chuckles, "if I know Evie as well as I think I do, she would have felt extremely guilty for taking it in the first place."

The Duchess nods. "She returned it to him around a month after their engagement," she murmurs, "I was told he had been furious with her at first, but that he forgot his anger as soon as he opened the box."

"Why?"

"I do not know what was running through his mind at that time," she admits sheepishly, "all I know is that he appeared on my doorstep in Roche the very next day, with his trunks and that darned box on one arm, and Tommy on the other – demanding answers."

"My goodness, exactly what did that box contain, De Beauharnais?" the Archery Mistress demands, her eyes wide.

The Duchess sighs. "Well..."

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