With ringing in my ears, I shift slightly so I'm sitting up right. My head feels as if a wood pecker has just nested inside my brain and is making its cheerful, painful music. As I stand, empty wine bottles move under my feet, I stumble back to the settee, only just finding my balance.

Around me, other men sleep, some hug their single barrelled shotguns like lost lovers; others sleep like children, sucking on their thumbs and snoring lightly. I rub my head, attempting to reduce the ache of the alcohol from the night before.

Luckily, I've always had a strong tollerance for the drink. Last night plays clear as a bell in my head.


We all sat around a large round table - like the one King Arther sat around in old English myths. There were around fifteen of us there, I would later find that that the other twenty were out causing more mayhem.

The table was covered in thick, yellow and white candles, some their flames flickered, whereas the other flames simply glowed in the dark room, causing the atmosphere to feel more secluded to just us. There were at least three bottles of wine per two persons, papers with maps drawn in messy ink were at the centre of the table, a few resting before Victor.

Victor sat at, what I can only presume to have been the head of the table, for one thing, he was sat in a grand-looking dark wooden chair, whereas the rest of us were meerly sitting on smaller chairs much like the ones you'd find in cafes.

He made sure that everyone was accounted for, being properly fed and watered before beginning the discussions into what would be happening and any success stories, and the failures of their group for me to report back to Guillamue.

"We have almost completely taken over the city." A young man reported. He smiled broadly as if something had just dawned on him.  Suddenly, he had jumped out of his seat shouting excietedly, "Soon we shall have the whole of France!"

Other men laugh, and one speaks up, "Calm down, Edward, you'll wake the whole of France up at this rate!" I recoil the voice startling me as it was feminine, it was only as I leaned forward to get a better view of my neighbour Gregory that I saw 'he' was evidently a 'she'.

She looked at me amused, "Surprised about something?"

"Not at all," I said shaking my head slightly. I thought for a second and added, "You're dressed like a man?"

She laughed, "Yes. Yes, I am."

"If I may ask, why?" Other men around the table tried to stiffle their chortles, it didn't work.

"The clothes fit better." she said and laughed. "I thought I might be like another French woman who fought for her country. Hopefully I won't be burnt for it, though."

I puzzled it over in my head for a second. "Je suis désolé, but are you talking about Joan of Arch?"

"Evidently. She too fought for our country, against the English. So I shall be like her, but against the French nobals." She spat out the latter word as if it was infected with disease.

Victor coughed, retrieving everyone's attention. "Emmanuel now you have met Rachelle, she is one of the leaders of the women protestors."

I elevated my brows.

"We are to lead a march into the centre to voice our own views on the revolution." Rachelle informed me, I told them briefly about the women I'd brought. Rachelle was more interested in more women to join her cause.

"We are also brewing something. You see, we know that King Louis is still hear. We are planning on bringing him to Paris, a mob is forming my young friend. This will all be apparent soon."

We didn't talk much after that we meerly talked about how it will be great to rule ourselves.


I tiptoe over men, asleep drunkenly. Rachelle and a few other woman left late last night, just before the mass drinking begun. Jogging up the stairs to Victor's room, I rasp quickly on the door.

"Qui?" a confused and groggy voice calls out.

"Victor, I'm going. Au revoir." and with that, I ran back to the hotel to find that Marie has gone and the other two still asleep.

Time to wait, then.

The End

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