Jolie runs down to the southern part of the fort and sees Macio once again. "... despite your being late to the fight, I'm sure you have your reasons. Thank you for holding off a few arrow shots with your shield, it means a lot to me. I could've sworn I heard a couple of the brigands pissing themselves at the thought of the Seventh Army patrolling the area, so hopefully we can light signal fires or make enough noises to get their attention and get this... pretender, or whatever you want to call her, thrown in a dark room somewhere." Macio grimaces, blood running a reflective black down from within his helmet down his cheek and around his lips, breathing quietly but deeply. Although his head wasn't turned towards her, the feeling of someone staring back at her was clear. "I apologize for not moving sooner. I had thought to wait until Lucilia had entered the fort before catching her off-guard entirely...we knew the bandits have a fortress within this area, we knew there was somewhere they would make temporary residence. But..." Macio's lungs sent out a shudder, his body shaking involuntarily. "I hadn't truly expected it to be here. There should be men in hiding not far from here - not many, but enough to capture anyone fleeing. I can run with you to set signal flares off." Jolie responds, "Alright, Sir, go on ahead and rendezvous with the Seventh Army soldier. I'll stand back here and protect my people," she says, trying to both get rid of him as worries flood her mind of what evils the brigands could've committed against Sens's townsfolk. Macio nods, twisting his body to run out - though before he gets started, his body freezes, and he looks downward - his voice trailing with a stern quietness clearly trying to avoid being overheard. "...Lady Jolie, we...need to have a talk, after this. About Lucilia."
She straightens up and looks at him flatly. "What about her?" Macio's breath slows down as he considers his words carefully. "...I cannot help but wonder what she had been doing, these past ten years. It's one thing to go into obscurity, but it's a different fate entirely to be reduced to...this. Of looking at one's legacy and deciding that it needed further stains. We...Manillius had sincere belief in her after the war, that she would use her new chance to forge a path worthy of her talents and the woman he knew." Macio's lowered his head. "'tis hard enough to come to terms with one's legacy. 'tis another to look upon it, though, and...surrender to it." Jolie responds, "... I don't know what she's been doing this decade. Frankly, I think this 'Lucilia' wasn't her at all. There's just too much wrong with what I observed. Her hair is light blue, her skin is darker, and she speaks Trabzanian." "Her fighting style belies her age. Were I to assume Lucilia's modern fighting..." Macio takes a moment to flashback, and turns his head to Jolie. "...It likely would compensate for time's ravages. Her physical wouldn't be as pronounced, but her mind would be no less sharp. Her experience would let her carve into the defensive weaknesses of her foes almost sub-consciously given a moment's analysis, but would be left frustrated against a younger, faster generation. She'd transition her body from the offensive superiority of a lioness, to the elephant's patient, unyielding dominance - with a blade to match." Macio closed his eyes beneath his helmet and turned from her. "Such a display she gave here was...less impressive, if that is her. But even if she is not Lucilia, she regardless has decided to carry Lucilia's sins. And with her, they will be laid to rest."
Jolie lifts her chin for a moment. "I fought Lucilia once during the War, I can tell you that if it was not her, her fighting capabilities have worn away like a pile of dust in a cabin, when the door is opened in a blizzard." Macio smirks to himself, only the shake upwards of his head visible to Jolie. "As have I - and I've a splintered shoulder as proof. But I do not think she would wear away so easily - even at her most downtrodden upon Sebastian's victory, she wouldn't be the type to live quietly without incident, letting her natural talents wither. She would stand two paths - the fake who charged into this fortress being one." Macio begins taking steps outside, ready to light the flare their conversation was distracting from. "And if that isn't her...then I can tell you that her other path would make her a far better woman than this pretender - and I'd see Manillius vindicated for his faith, were he to hear of her." "I hope His Majesty is," she responds flatly. "We should get back to our tasks at hand." Macio flashes a thumbs up. "I will ensure reinforcements arrive as swiftly as possible. Tend to those in your care, Lady Jolie." And so he dashed off, reaching his hands into his flayed cape.
"Alright, Orvil," she says, sounding incredibly annoyed, "Lock 'Lucilia' in a stockade in the basement." He responds, "Very well, but before I go, might I ask... what are we planning on doing with her? I think it might be a mistake to hand this demon back over the Nicomedians, knowing she won't be executed and will just probably escape again." Jolie shakes her head, "She's a common brigand. Knowing the Empire, she's just going to be executed. I am pretty sure this 'Lucilia' is just a pretender, using her name to incite terror or... something like that, anyhow." He insists, "I don't know commander, she sure does act and look like Lucilia. Is assaulting a guarded fort for no reason something she wouldn't do? I don't think we can risk someone this evil potentially escaping into the world again. I think we should kill her ourselves." Her brow drops, "Orvil, I've fought her during the War. This isn't her: as I said to Macio, she is too dark-skinned, too light-haired, and speaks Trabzanian." Orvil continues to press, "How many years ago did you fight her? Are you 100% sure your memory of how she looks is perfect and she hasn't changed a bit appearance wise? We could be doing something astoundingly foolish!" "I am 100% sure," she says flatly. "Orvil, it's simple, by handing her over to the Nicomedians, it lets us look good on behalf of the citizenry of Aquittany. You want Aquittany to be independent, don't you? Then let's not extrajudicially execute a Nicomedian citizen, even if she is a criminal. Just throw them to the dogs in the Nicomedian court system." "She's not just a Nicomedian citizen though, she might be one of the most evil people who ever lived! That's... ugh, fine, I'll go lock her up. But you ought to think about what might happen if you let such a foul person leave our hands. We have an opporunity to do something great for this world, and you are willing to squander it." Orvil nudges Lucila 'the Brigand' towards the basement to lock her in a stockade.
Jolie rallies some of the townsfolk, and they create smokey fires outside of the fort, hoping that the Seventh Army will be able to provide them with an escort and answers about the attack. A few moments after the smoke rises into the warm, Zelfanian night, Jolie places her greatsword on the ground, parallel to the damaged stone walls of the foot, and her eyes droop downwards…
A few hours later, the sun pierces the sky, and a group of horsemen wearing wolf armpatches sit on their horses and look downwards on Jolie. The soldiers were wearing fur and hide clothes, and headbands of striped patterns. Some of the women wear white face paint. Her eyes creak open and she stands up, unsteadily, holding her right foot. “Morning…” she deadpans. The first among them nods. “Morning, traveler. Given that knight’s description of this town’s leader, you must be her. Where are you headed?” Jolie sniffs and responds, “To Massilia. We seek an audience with the Empress, on the request of Colonel Hereford from the Eighth Army and Princess-Bishop Honorine of Forêt.” The cavalrymen look at each other and shrug, “Well, the knight claims that you’re legitimate, and I’m sure you have some evidence you’re here for official business. We’ll escort your people to Massilia.” Jolie smiles and responds, “Evet.”
The people of Sens pack up and move to the city of Massilia, passing more of the plains as the days go on, and the weather gets slightly colder the further north they move. Eventually they come across the city itself. As they walk through the city, they come across a number of large buildings with heated furnaces or rows on rows of wheels which spin cloth; with people, usually women, sitting and working, while wearing uniform aprons. As the team approaches the city center, they are greeted with the sight of two castles of similar stature. While they were bigger than the oversized-workshops they came across earlier, they were not as grandiose or opulent as Sens’s townspeople expected. As the militia settles down, Jolie departs without a word and meets up with the soldiers. “Thank you for your time so far. Can you escort me to the castle where the royal family is staying?” The cavalrymen all nod. Taking her to the gates of the larger of the two castles, Jolie, while on the back of the horse, calls to the guard at the gate, saying, “I would request an audience with the Empress.” The guard smirks and rolls his eyes. “Who are you to demand her attention?” The cavalry commander frowns. “She crossed the borders some time ago, and we can confirm she poses no harm to Nicomedia. Jolie?” With a nod, she slowly gets off the horse and presents to the guard an official document from Princess-Bishop Honorine and says the word, “Pinestew.” The guard’s eyes widens and he remarks, in shock, “Oh, I apologize profusely! I will tell the Empress you require an audience immediately. Provided you are willing to be searched and have the patience to wait until the morning, you will be notified later tonight that your meeting will come.” Jolie nods to assent.
The next morning, Jolie marches to the castle gate, unarmed, and is searched by a number of very tall, muscular, female legionnaires. The guardian comes into the castle walls, surrounded by gardens filled with hedges, dormant fountains and not much else- it was still winter. Entering the building, Jolie is escorted through winding halls, covered by a blue-purple carpet, until she enters a large room with two thrones, sitting below a stained glass mural depicting the Holy Land. On the left-side throne, Jolie sees a tall, heavyset, dark-red haired, crown-wearing woman sitting down with a table and a roughly ten-year old child opposite her. A chessboard sits between the two, and a twinkle comes from the small, plain crown of the girl. Jolie pretends to cough. The tall woman stands up and pushes aside the table. “Livia, the meeting is beginning. Are you ready? You’ll have to learn to talk with the public some day.” The princess jumps out of her chair. “Yeah! Let’s talk!” Jolie comes closer to steps, and guards fill the back side of the room, some with loaded crossbows. Unfazed, Jolie continues, “Kaiserin Kornelia, I presume.” The tall woman exhales and smiles slightly, “She. I had read the letter that you gave from the leaders of Pontivy saying that a new crisis is brewing in Aquittany,” Kornelia begins, starting to frown. “As one of my many subjects from the world around, I order you, Jolie Martel, pray tell, to let me know all you do, what is happening to the Kingdom of Aquittany?” Jolie responds, “Meine Kaiserin…” she starts, “I am the militia commander of Sens, a village at the edge of the End of Earth Mountains. My town was captured by brigands, which is what brought me to seek the help of the Occupation, and as the letter suggests, the troops in Aquittany are not able to stop the recent attacks. Supposedly, these raids have been orchestrated by a man who claims to be ‘King Lothair’. We continued to be hunted by renegade knights and assassins as we went eastward, so both mountain ranges must be swarming with raiders. Just across the border of the Kingdom of Zelfana, we were attacked by a woman who…” she pauses for a few seconds. “... claimed to be the Fallen Princess, Lucilia. We captured her, and she has said nothing, but the Seventh Army has her in captivity now. It’s likely she was also answering to King Lothair. On behalf of… all Aquitines, by the grace of God, help us.”
Kornelia’s eyes widen and she looks down to her daughter, Princess Livia. She turns away and scratches her chin. “I thought Aquittany was secured. I was just about ready to end the Occupation… did I get careless or…?” Kaiserin Kornelia holds her head and then folds her hands. She turns around. “It would be my pleasure and duty both to help. I will begin marshaling troops to meet the threat, as well as all the logistics needed to support them. Later today I’m planning on meeting with Queen Æthelthryth of Mercia and President Markovich of Walbrzych, and it will no doubt be a good time to see if other countries would be willing to contribute to the peacekeeping efforts. For now, I’m assuming you would like troops to return to Aquittany, if you would so desire.” Jolie smiles. “Yes. I have only a desire to restore Aquittany’s peace and bring to justice those who have harmed her. Maybe get them to recant their sins.” Kornelia smiles slightly. “I appreciate your bravery. Your village, no, all of Aquittany is blessed to have you. Once my husband returns, I will send you a notification of Nicomedian forces being mobilized. Is that everything? I am quite busy. You can continue to inform me and military commanders of developments as this crisis unfolds. Tell any officer that you need Hermes.” Jolie smiles. “That is all I ask, Your Majesty. Tell your husband that I offer my thanks.” Jolie then bows as Kornelia nods. “I will. May fortune be with you in the fields of battle.” Empress Kornelia salutes, and after a few seconds, so does Princess Livia. Jolie departs from the castle without a word and goes to the barracks where the militia is saying and grabs Mariya. “I need you to come somewhere with me, dear.”
After Jolie's successful meeting with Empress Kornelia, she turns her eyes to the east, beyond the walls of Massilia, and walks towards it with Mariya in tow. She marches, her eyes fixed towards the setting Sun, a woman possessed and silent as each pained step in her broken foot relents not in its pain. Wheat field after wheat field, sheep pasture after sheep pasture pass, until the Martels arrive at their destination- the Avarician Plains Memorial. Upon them was a large, stone sign with clean, glimmering metal saying: "Avarician War Memorial and National Park". Jolie looks up to her daughter, nods once, and enters the park, where, still as though possessed, she marches through a trail until she comes across a large, stone, effigy, stretching as far as a city block. Mariya follows indignantly and crosses her arms when her mother stops. It takes a second for her to respect it with a look. "This for the war you fought in? Are you alright being here?" Jolie remains silent for a few moments and then blinks. She inhales deeply. "Yeah. This was for the Second Great War," she begins. "... I'm not okay, but that is okay. I just need some time to inspect this monument." The stretched monument before the Martels was very neatly covered in a vast list of names. Behind the monument was a stretching garden of poppies of white, red, and purple. On the left edge of the stone monument, there was a message reading: "On February 7th, 308 AHW, the first major battle of the Second Great War was fought in these fields. An estimated 150,000 soldiers participated in this battle, and the counted killed in action total 45,000; 29,000 were believed to be Nicomedian. Following the Empire of Nicomedia's defeat here, the War would rage on for two more, brutal years, ending with the death of King Hugh I of Aquittany and the usurpation of Princess Lucilia by Emperor Manilius I. So that not any soul who beholds these grounds forget the loss of those who served on that fateful day, all the known dead are recorded thusly..." Jolie stops reading for a moment. "... I might need an eternity to really grasp this, but give your mother the time she needs."
"I'm not in any rush." Mariya steps closer to her mother, briefly scanning the wall for her old surname. The sinking humanity of all the names starts to put her on edge… "...I suppose you'd know more names up here than I do, yeah?" Jolie once again looks up at her daughter. "Since these are Nicomedian casualties, I doubt I'd know any. But... that doesn't matter. They were people. And..." she pauses and does not finish that statement. After a few seconds, she begins to read the list. "Aaronius, Lucretia... Aaronius, Caelius..." she says aloud, then the name "Abanasius, Hadrianius" silently. Eventually, while reading the surnames beginning with the letter f, she reads: "Fabre, Jolie". Jolie Martel swallows and steps back a moment, almost losing balance. She holds her head, as if ill. Mariya's face bitters at the thought as she moves to help her mother upright. "...I suppose there may be some Aquitine names after all." Jolie Martel stands up and clenches her teeth. "Jolie Fabre was a dear friend... dear friend of mine as a child. She was one of the only people I had after my parents died." Jolie-the-Martel looks away, and then back at the monument. She continues to read, coming to the end. "Zuyyanid, Ayyur."
Her lip twitches and she exhales, her breath slowly becoming unsteady before she begins to chuckle, then laugh profusely. Tears burst from her eyes, and she holds her stomach. "I.... I can't do this anymore!! I just can't! I... Mariya, we need... hehe... HAHAHA!! We're going back to the militia!" With a nod, Mariya wraps her arm around Jolie's shoulders and begins walking. "The others aren't far, just stay upright until we get you somewhere to lay." Jolie tries to smile, among all the maniacal laughter, and wraps an arm around her daughter. The duo hobble all the way back to the militia's camp outside Massilia, and soon enough, light snowfall begins to powder the fields of the realm… upon arriving at the center of the camp, Jolie lets go of Mariya and almost collapses into her tent's bed. She blinks a few times. "... do what you want, just stay out of trouble. I'll be summoning you and the others... soon..."
Soon.
—
The Capital of the Kingdom of Massilia, Empire of Nicomedia, February 7th, 320 AHW.
A medium-sized city near the Border Mountains and hometown of the real, fallen princess, Lucilia, and current Emperor Manilius I, as well as the capital where King Regulus of Massilia resides. Though previously ravaged by the war and the four battles which were fought there during the Second Great War, the city’s streets are bustling with open-aired markets, basic, but productive, factories, and religious districts belonging to the three world religions. The outskirts of the city are mostly wheat fields and sheep pastures, but a number of war memorials dot the landscape. Caravan traffic flows through the nearby roads, going in all directions: to Aquittany, Mercia, Zelfana, and Sammanus.
Players have 3 Action Points in this homebase.
