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Gallia Falling, part 2 - Rene-le-Chateau (IC)


Tiffany Korta

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“One of the young women from the village visits me to help me in my declining years, thought they Priory haven’t let her visit the last few days. She tells me much of the gossip of the village and the area. There is much discussion of your Father Henri, a few of the women regret that you have taken the vow…†she gave a laugh “And she also told me an amazing tale of what happened one night whilst I was away.

 

23rd November 1794

 

She was sneaking back to her parent’s house from a visit to her boyfriend when she saw a light from the grounds of Hautpol House. Curiosity took the better of her, and despite the late hour she decided to investigate the source of the bright light.


Standing there was the strangest woman she’d ever seen. She was she had to admit pretty with Caramel colored skin, like someone from the Mediterranean or the Africa’s, and the wildest mass of hair she had ever seen. But stranger still was the clothes she was wearing, she was wearing a strange almost chemise like top of blue and red that showed off her midriff. Her skirt of patterned check’s hardly cover her bottom. ON seeing her the woman gave a cheerful smile and spoke in perfect French, with a slight Parisian accent.


“Hi there, I know this is so cliched but what is today’s date?â€


“It is the 23rd November 1794 my lady.†out here few had bothered with the new revolutionary calendar.


She gave a quite dirty laugh “Oh I’m not a lady by any stretch of the imagination. Look I need a strange favour in about 5 years time, don’t ask me how I know, the Lady of the house will return home. I need you to tell her about this night and this..â€


She tapped a larger package under her arm before resting it upon the ground and revealing the painting. It was a painting of a rather determined looking woman, but with a hint of sadness, it seemed almost alive in the quality of the painting.


“It’s based on a sketch of a rather talented yet almost unknown artist called Rene. When the say an artist capture’s the soul of the subject it’s normal just a turn of phase but thank’s to the mancination of other less scruitable people in this case it’s literally true.â€


She picked up the painting and made her way to the far corner of the grounds of the house, still curious about this strange woman she followed her and following her to a hole in the ground.


“Below there is an isolated cave, I’m going to hide Joan here, and at some point people are going to look for it. It’s important that the right person keep it safe, so when she meets Rene de Saen’s tell her to tell him all about this. And tell him that he owes me a pint.†she gave the young woman a wink.


The there was nimbus of light that suddenly surrounded the woman growing in intensity until it totally concealed the woman, when it cleared the woman was gone and she could swear that she saw a light at the bottom of the hole.

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"Well, there are more than one spirits at work here" laughed Rene, appreciating the story and the meaning. "And not all are malign. Although I always prefer a man - or woman - to make his own choice rather than be plucked like a chess piece!"

 

His mind cast back to the portrait - or rather, sketch, of Gallia he had made years ago. He could not rightly say if his passionate work had been for good or for ill. But it certainly seemed to be a nexus of importance. And one he would be inclined to protect. Or control. 

 

"I think that painting is best kept blind to prying eyes and out of grabbing hands" he explained to Elisabeth. "Many years ago I made the sketch for it, and at that time things where..complex. It was not the best of times, as I recall, layers within layers of schemes. I would rather have forgot it, or at least put it behind me, but it seems once again I am dragged onto the chessboard!"

 

The truth was, he would not wish to forget what happened, although it had birthed a deep unquiet in him for many years. 

 

"We must stop the Priory!"

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  • 2 weeks later...

“I’m sorry to be the skeptic here, but how are we to believe this woman’s marvelous story of a strange aporting woman? I would like a little more proof than that before I take one someone like the Priory. They made have some... unusual view’s but I don’t think they mean harm.â€


Father Henri seemed almost apologetic, he seemed to still be struggling with the day’s revelations.

 

“Oh I know her, or at least one version of her, Spiritus Iudicii some call her.†her tone took on a more serious tone “They wish to restore the divine right of kings with there pure holy bloodline. What better for a group like that to have their own spiritual protector, one who hates everything the Republic had achieved.â€

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"Spiritis ludicii?" said Rene, pondering the group. It was as good a name as any. 

 

"But you make good point" he conceded. "If my experience of this spirit is any guide, then manipulation is her bread and meat. It is quite possible that the Priory is just a pawn in her scheme, not possessed of rhyme nor reason"

 

He was, he admitted, disinclined to think well of the Priory, if they wished to undo the Revolution. So much blood had been spilled for its cause - a cause he passionately believed in - that to contemplate that its brutal cost was for nothing was more than he could bear. 

 

"Their...unusual views have still lit the fuse, however. And we must act. What course to do you advise then, Father? I applaud Prudence, but it must be tempered by necessity!"

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  • 2 weeks later...

Whilst they discussed the situation Marianne seemed to get agitated, trying to attract there attention. With the sudden torrent of revelation it was easy to miss such a thing, so it wasn’t until the heard the clapping.

 

“The phantasm was an excellent touch I must agree.â€

 

The man standing in the doorway looked quite normal he was impeccably dressed with an accent suggesting, if not nobility, at least some breeding. He wasn’t a particularly tall or imposing, but his dark intelligent eyes and neatly trimmed beard gave him an imposing appearance.

 

“I am Roger Délicat the Master of the Priory of Sion. You I know Father Henri, but I’m afraid we haven’t been introduced."

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Rene eyed the man carefully, his nose twitching. 

 

"I am Rene deSaens" he bowed, not so low as to take his eyes off Delicat. 

 

"A humble painter, and friend to Father Henri" he replied, his mind churning over how Delicat and Henri would know each other. Coincidence?

 

Non! There are no coincidences in this matter!

 

"If you are from the Priory, I fear I must warn of you of a spirit, named Gallia. I had a dalliance with her years ago, and not one that should be revered. A twisted Spirit she is, one who uses men like pawns, or pawns of pawn. Whether you know it or not, I tremble at any action that may unleash her, and my concerns have led me here, or - more precisely, to what lies beneath. What is your intention, Sir? and may I dissuade you from erroneous action?"

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Father Henri look the man up a down for a few moment’s.


“I believe I have seen you at a few of my service’s, but not at confessional. It seems to me that you have much to unburden.†he didn’t bother to conceal his contempt for the man.


“Alas I have had to sin a little for the good of all, I hope that Our Lord understands my sacrifice when I stand before his glory.†he was still all smiles and charisma as he turned his attention to Rene.

 

“So you are the Rene deSaens I suppose we owe you our thanks for all this, though is much that you don’t understand about the situation. At least join me for some wine whilst I explain the entire situation?â€

Edited by TiffanyKorta
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For once, Rene was disinclined to drink. For starters, it would dull his wits, which he rather suspected he would need. 

 

And aside from that...

 

"I fear the company would sour the wine" he explained, a cold smile on his face. He never believed in the excuse "the ends justifies the means". 

 

"I don't fancy the pretence of politeness, sir. You would appear to justify the grotesque in pursuit of the divine. And you can divine my intention, I am sure. If I started this, I shall stop it". 

 

He paused a fraction. 

 

"But if you care to loosen tongue and wit, then please, spill your intent and plot. Labour not under the delusion that my spirit will be dulled to your maliciousness..."

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At Rene blunt refusal Roger didn’t something rather strange, he tipped his head back and gave a rather evil sounding laugh.


“Ah it is rather refreshing to meet someone like yourself. It is a shame we are currently on opposite sides. Then you and our dear marianne shall come with me, Father Henri if you could stay with the Lady of the Houseâ€


On his gesture several guards moved into position beside Rene and Marianne, showing that this wasn’t merely a request. With subtle encouragement the party was moving through the corridor of the mansion.


“Where to start? Where to start? I suppose at the beginning, you beginning in such matter, the fate of Gallia. The problem with secret order is that I rarely get to talk about such thing with equals.â€


He seemed to be relishing his chance to explain the Order’s plans.

 

“When you left Gallia in the Temple, a rather good job you did to, they still feared what harm Gallia should do if she recovered her senses. So a few within the government, the real villains not us, with the aid of a Sorcerer who I believe you have encounter enacted a ritual to capture Gallia and her hosts body and soul within a painting. The painting having come about in no small part to the very sketch you did of the woman...â€

Edited by TiffanyKorta
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"I remember it well" replied Rene with uncharacteristic gruffness. But then, Gallia made him uncharacteristically angry. And not in the passionate, positive way, of fighting for liberty against oppression. But in the personal way. He had been manipulated. 

 

And it seems the manipulation went down deeper, and was to be endured longer, than he had expected. 

 

"I just hope you didn't let some vandal destroy my initial good work. I can't stand the poisoning of a good sketch. Hmph. Well as long as you didn't ask Monsieur LaRue to finish it off. That idiot is all show and no class. His colours! His colours!" he said, rubbing his eyes in pain at the thought.

 

 He let himself and Marianne be funnelled along according to Roger and the guards intimidations. He took Marianne's hand in his, noting with a little surprise his palm was sweaty. He was afraid, not so much for himself, but the girl in his care. 

 

"Let us proceed then, Monsieur. And let no harm befall the girl..."

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Marianne squeezed Rene’s hand back and looking up at him gave a little smile it was difficult that remembered that the spirit inside was almost as old as Rene himself, and in some way’s thousand’s of years older.


“We both know that marianne wouldn’t allow the young woman to come to harm, she would find another host nearby. So for now it’s advantageous keep her here where we can keep an eye on you both.â€


As they continued to make there way through the Mansion he began to explain his plan.

 

“A man of your education, and please don’t insult my intelligence by acting dumb, knows about the historical Merovingians. Our Order believes  it is a special a holy bloodline and we have traced it’s blood down the centuries. We have the perfect woman to produce an heir with our new king, imagine what she could do if she had the wisdom of thousand’s of years...â€

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"There are plenty of ways to insult you, Monsieur. Regretfully, your intelligence is not among that long list" sniffed Rene, disliking the man. 

 

"I am, of course, aware of the Meriovingians. And of the preposterous notion of a holy bloodline. Pfah! I have no times for zealots or plots. And all the Gods, real, imagined, or as it turns out, both, can kiss my posterior! Mankind is full of enough wonder and nobility, it needs no distraction from it!"

 

"So, you intent to produce an heir to the throne, infused with the essence of Gallia? I wonder who controls who, here? if you labour under the delusion of being more than a pawn, you will find your fate less than desired. But tell me of this perfect woman? I have yet to meet perfection in any form..."

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He paused in front of a rather thick looking door with a larger sturdy lock.


“Ah of course you’re looking at this with a Artist eye. We’re thinking of someone who is a good ruler, with a wealth of experience to make good and wise decisions. I’ve heard there is a ritual that allows them.†he gestured towards Marianne “To access all their memories of the centuries.


On of his guards passed him a large key and he began to unlock the door.


“And we don’t wish for power for ourselves only to serve France, it’s a shame that we have different views on what France should be.â€


Rene and Marianne were gently persuaded to enter the room which was simply decorated with only a bed and a barred window.


“I shall return in a while to ask you where the painting of Gallia is hidden, but for now I shall allow you to think on what is happening.â€

Once the door was shut the room was dark apart from the faint glow from Marianne herself.

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He doesn't know where the Painting of Gallia is?

 

Then there is hope!

 

...

 

But then, neither do I!

 

Rene sat down, feeling old despite his youth. He stroked his brown in consternation. 

 

"Marianne, my dear. I am afraid danger is upon us. A danger I suspect you were aware of, however ghostlike it appeared to you. The cold hardness of stone brings us to the reality, which is less palatable..."

 

"...yet despite this, our own personal danger is a small flower, one I would save, but it is in a field. The field is France, and it will burn if we do not stop this madman and the madness he cloaks himself in. Do you know where Gallia's portrait is?"

 

"And then, we must get out of here..." he said, testing the door and barred window. 

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Marianne pulled herself up to her full height she look more like her true age, on the cusp of adulthood, she smiled gently at Rene.


“Don’t worry I have a good idea where to look, but I think he’s counting on that.†even her voice sounded more mature somehow.


The light around her began to increase until it was almost unbearable to look at the door as thick as it was began to smoke around the lock.


“Go find the Mademoiselle de Rennes she mention the place in her tale, I’ll go distract the Order for a little while.â€

With a clunk the lock fell from the door Marianne having somehow cut them completely away.

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Rene raised an eyebrow at the smoke. 

 

"Well done, young...err...well, sort of young lady..." he said, momentarily disorientated by the duality of Marianne's age. 

 

He wafted the smoke away - it was somewhat acrid. 

 

"Marianne - whoever you are - I dislike leaving you. I know you are much more than a little girl, but nevertheless, that is how you appear. And to an artist, appearances are everything!" he explained with a warm smile. 

 

"And yet it seems I must leave you in the hands of fate for now. I follow your lead, as you seem to be more wise than I in these matters. But scream, and I will come...." he said, trying without much enthusiasm to be reassuring. 

 

And then, he was gone, as silently as he can tracing his footsteps back to Madmeoiselle de Rennes. 

 

I dislike this. This smells bad, and not just the smoke from that burnt lock. I feel machinations and devices wheeling around me. I am a mouse in a trap...

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  • 2 weeks later...

Unlike with Rene and Marianne it seemed the Grand Master didn’t trust her safety to just a stout door and a lock. The door had a single guard armed with a Musket keeping guard. Rene in a piece of good luck arrived near the room at just the time a hue and cry went up at whatever Marianne was doing.


The guard, a young fresh faced mane that reminded Rene of the troops he served with so long ago, looked torn it was obvious he wanted to go help but his order’s were to stay here.

 

It shouldn’t take much to persuade him to act either way.

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Rene stepped boldly in front of the man. 

 

"Young man! step out of the way!" he demanded, a smile on his face. "You want no part in this play! tonight is a night of schemes and foul plots. I would not have you be a disposable pawn today, but a prince of your own making in the years to come. A soldier you may be, but a soldier fights for liberty and land, not the silver coins of some ignoble master!" he explained. 

 

"Be a man now, and seize honour and life. Be a soldier, and not a mercenary!" he demanded. "I would see to the woman you guard, and make right what is undoubtedly wrong!" he proclaimed, and without hesitation made move towards door. 

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The Soldier considered Rene’s word for a few seconds, for a second it looked like he was going to agree with Rene, but then his looked hardened.

 

“I am not a mercenary I’m not here for forty pieces of silver. I’m a soldier serving King and Country.â€

 

He gestured with his Musket for Rene to enter the room.

 

“For now I will allow you to visit the Lady de Rennes, but I’m also going to get the Grand Master to deal with you properly.â€

 

The door was shut and Rene could hear the key turn in the door followed by footsteps down the hall. Rene was exactly where he wanted to be but he wouldn’t have long before a greater force returned.

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"Mademoiselle de Rennes, my time is thin, and my patience follows" said Rene, breathless from adrenaline. He spoke the truth too, he was flushed. He felt himself once again been plunged into a web of deceit and machinations that were beyond him. And he disliked it. 

 

"I appreciate the candour with which you have so far blessed us with, but now is the time to double your blessings and dispel with all obscurities and vagueness. The guard outside your door has seen only to given seconds of time. The painting concealed in the bowels of your house is the key to unlocking a fierce spirit that will enslave and manipulate men as if they were but pawns. I will not stand for it, or any who stand in my way, Mademoiselle!" he said, full of passion and determination. 

 

"They must, and will be stopped. So tell me Madameoiselle, were is that painting, for I mean to burn it!!!!"

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Madame De Rennes stood up slowly and careful, with the help of father Henri, which was understandable for a woman of her age. And as most people her age she was a little reluctant to accept his help. Once stood she walked over to the window of the room and gestured for Rene to join her.


“The village is riddle with tunnel’s as I believe I’d told you. There are one or two bore holes in the garden, the one over there.†she pointed to an overgrown part of the garden “There is a shaft leading to I believe a cave, though the shaft itself I believe is an almost sheer drop. Luckily for you a way out of this room is not.â€

 

She gestured to a sloping tiled roof just a meter or so drop from the rooms window.

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"How the mighty will fall" sighed Rene. 

 

"Well, Father Henri, Madame, I thank you for your time, your patience, your directness and your instruction" he said, in a long winded way and with a bow. "But it seems the time has come for me to take leave and act. Time presses on my heels, and not in a kindly manner". 

 

He took of his jacket, and rolled up his sleeves. He felt like a soldier again, and whilst it was not an entirely unpleasant experience, he found the taste of adrenaline did not adequately compensate for the taste of unease. 

 

"I'm an artist, not a carnival acrobat!" he grumbled as he squeezed himself out of the the house and dropped to the Garden, cursing all the time as he hobbled to the secret passage, and once again lowered himself into the pit of darkness, and dropped once more...

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Apart from twisting his ankle from landing from the roof Rene made his way across the roof and garden to drop down a sheer hole into the cave below. It seems the Priory’s focus was on the Cellar as no one seemed to be watching or guarding this overgrown patch.

 

The cave itself was mostly in darkness apart from a strange soft white light from a small box in the corner. Apart from this contraption there seemed to be nothing else in this tiny cave apart from a covered canvas, which must be the painting that everyone above was searching for.

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Rene approached the canvas carefully, and as silently as he could muster. He felt his fear rising. And guilt too - cursed fate it was that his own sketch of Gallia had lead to this...

 

He dreaded beyond words uncovering the painting. 

 

He waited a moment, catching his breath and letting his eyes accumulate to the soft light. But he dare not tarry too long, no, not a moment longer, despite his fear. 

 

He put his hands up to the canvas. For the moment, he did not want to think about what he would do with his masterpiece. For now, he was driven to know what he had created. 

 

With an uncomfortable wrenching of his gut and heart, he drew breath and will and threw back the canvas in one furious motion. 

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The painting if not a master piece was an amazing piece of work the woman depicted was so vibrant as to seem almost lifelike. The style and brush stroke were similar in style to those that Rene used himself. But there was something strange about the painting the colors were the most vibrant Rene had ever seen and the paints, well rene had never seen paints like that.


Plus the painting wasn’t of Jeanne at all but of Constance.


As he stood up from examine the painting he noticed that the room was bathed in a eerie blue light. Looking around Rene saw the blue tinged ghost of a woman that looked very much like the woman that Madame Rennes had previously described.

 

“I’m guessing right now you have many questions that need answers?â€

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