The Crimson Heirlooms

Prologue

Crimson Heirloom was a legal term coined in 1832 by the highest court of France, the Cour d'Assises Spéciale.

There were precisely two.

The first was a priceless necklace named the Cross of Nantes. It had a storied history closely tied to the fortunes of its creator - the Traversier family of Nantes. It was stolen in 1754, miraculously reappearing twenty years later, then was lost again in 1805 - although hidden would be more accurate.

Soon after, a rumor abounded that if the Cross were found, a provision of will entitled the possessor to unconditional ownership of the mighty Traversier Mercantile Trust. When journalists discovered this fantastic tale was actually true, a legend was born. The Cross of Nantes became part of the national folklore of France. It was a mysterious lost treasure, a pendant fit for a king – whose owner would be worthy of it, being christened merchant royalty upon bestowal of the trust.

Those who had actually seen the Cross wrote and spoke of it as if nothing - no story, no price, no fortune - could ever compete with the beauty of the thing itself. It was made of Olmec jadeite, and diamonds of the rarest crimson hue. When light touched the necklace, Antares bowed its head to truer stars of scarlet.

Not a year went by without false headlines proclaiming the rediscovery of the Cross, or a group being formed to search for it based on some new clue or evidence. The mystery proved to be so intriguing that these stories never grew old - a new Cross story always made the front page of the newspapers.

As decades passed, the Cross entered the realm of myth - in spite of its existence, and the promise of the Traversier Trust, being very real.

The second Crimson Heirloom was less tangible, if not utterly mysterious or even the product of madness. It was legally defined – by no less than the highest court of France - as, "the words of the devil's song, as he danced across the blood-drenched hills of the Vendee Militaire." This definition was not ironic or metaphorical – it was literal and serious as a sword thrust.

It was the court's ruling that a specific individual, upon pain of death, search for these two Crimson Heirlooms for a period of no less than five years. It seemed absurd that such a thing could be possible in the modern age, but stranger things have certainly happened.

Such facts might be remembered only as trivia to amuse at dinner, except for one thing: The Cross of Nantes, and the words of the devil's song, were both found.

Chapter One

The Time of the Heirlooms

Xavier, 1776

The night was in early June. But the city of was veined with rivers and it was a cold Summer, so it was therefore dank, mildewed and chilly. At four hours before midnight, a thick fog rendered it dark when it would have otherwise been light. But the moisture gave added edge to sound and Xavier's large coach, called a german, clattered merrily down the cobblestones of Rue Saint-Nicolas as it made its way to the Cœurfroid townhome and the first Summer ball.

The man who stared out the window of the german was slim, is face was long, and his chin squared off from the jaw. His trimmed heard and shoulder-length hair were streaked dark blonde. He was the handsome heir of the Traversier of Nantes - and society judged him far more on the fortunes of his family than his countenance.

Although not customary, Xavier had no choice but to go to the ball alone. He didn't have any friends to speak of, and his mother no longer attended social events. He was snubbed by those in his appropriate social circle - yet here he was. Xavier was in a good mood, even excited. He seldom felt this way. There was usually little to celebrate and, even if there was, he usually kept his emotions under tight rein. But tonight, Xavier had gloriously let his guard down; in his opinion, deservedly so.