Versailles: The King's brother

Chapter 16: Tread Carefully (Part 2)

Renee
"Your feet are dragging. Up. Up!", Victoire swung at her again, this time with his sheath. It caught her in the ankle, sending her to the ground instantly. Hissing in pain, she guarded herself from the oncoming blow by bring her blade horizontally across her face. The clang of steel broke the stillness of the night air. In the back of both of their minds, the siblings were wary of being heard. "Once more", Victoire tsk'ed, his hair now dampened to the tips with sweat.
Sighing, Renee stood. Preparing their stances, Victoire whistled the initiation. Lunging forward, Renee struck a perfect blow. The tip of her blade met with the top of his right cheek yet Victoire stood still, unmoving. What she had initially assumed was her brothers gaze meeting hers was immediately shut down at the realization that he was in fact staring out over her shoulder. She felt the blood drain from her face. We've been caught. But by whom I can only fearfully wonder.
Sheathing her sword, she turned and stood by her brothers side. Across the way, standing on the balcony of the pool that lay in front of the evergreens the siblings now stood in was a single silhouette of a man. His hair blew silently in the breeze, cascading down his shoulders. "The King?", Renee asked her brother gravely. Victoire shook his head softly, trying to decipher the figure as best he could. The moon illuminated their faces perfectly for the strange figure to see, Renee understood that much, but the light raining down in the night sky successfully shielded the face across the way. "Definitely of his likeness", Victoire whispered to her, "But not him, surely. He would have been accompanied by guards or his valet. This man stands alone".
"What do we do?", Renee questioned. It was the soft chill of the wind following her question that seemed to awaken her brother into action. Sheathing his sword as well, he took her hand in his and began walking off in the other direction. "Where are we going?"
"Back to our rooms, we will climb up the builders landings from the side wall. To get there we need to cross across the orange tree garden. Keep your head down. Come", was all Victoire said. Fortunately, the figure did not follow them.

Philippe
With sleep now out of the question, Philippe had much to ponder over for the remainder of the evening following Henriette's announcement. Not remembering how he got there, Philippe found himself strolling the gardens. The moon was full, and unbearably bright. The guard count dwindled once he past the stone walkways, soon he was alone, and he was grateful for it. The child, how lost he felt on how to react to it. Perhaps he could relax more if he knew it was his, then again, he was certain it was not. He and Henriette hadn't shared a bed with one another for the larger part of a year now, it was impossible. Regardless, Philippe knew that should Louis not claim the child he could take over just as easily - considering he and Louis were brothers, he was certain the child would come out resembling a Bourbon inevitably. So long as its dark of hair and light in the eyes, the child would remain safe in the publics eye. Still, the uncertainty weighed on Philippe's head. Cursing himself, he sighed away the sudden dark thought in his mind that hoped the child would not live and instead focused his attention on the clang of steel that suddenly rang throughout the night sky.
It startled him, nearly making him lose his balance. Looking off back to the palace, the guards paced about slowly, unperturbed by the noise. They didn't hear it. Another clash rang out again, though he could have sworn it was followed by an almost inaudible hiss. Observing the rest of the garden, his attention was brought to the bundle of evergreen trees just across the way. Spotting the balcony above the pool that granted a clear view into the avenue, he made his way forward. Barely catching the end of someone talking, he followed the sound, "....Up. Up!", the voice cried. He sped up, thinking he had been spotted. Stopping at the edge of the balcony, he focused in.
On the ground sat a woman, angrily helping herself up, her back towards him. "Once more", the voice from before said. He recognized the man as Victoire Beaumont, the moonlight doing a great deal at helping him make out the details of his face. From below, the shadow of his own figure cascaded down as a great silhouette across the pools waters. He watched as Victoire and the girl both readied themselves for a duel. Growing curious, Philippe crossed his arms behind his back and gazed on as Victoire whistled to begin. Philippe's movement must have been noticed, though, as the girl easily swung a perfect blow as Victoire caught sight of him. Both of them stood frozen, eyeing each other.
The girl turning around, finally, could be seen - it was Victoires sister, Renee. Beaumonts, Philippe pondered curiously. The girl, a swords-woman. Hesitant on how to react, Philippe stayed still as they began talking to one another. Eventually, they sheathed their swords and began walking off together.
I will not follow them, he finalized to himself, I already have far too much on my plate than to trouble myself with the children of Jean Beaumont.

Renee
Rife with the smell of oranges, the siblings cross along the gravel paths, using the wet grass to muffle their footsteps as best they could. Pulling her closer to him, Victoire brought them both behind the leaves of one of the trees. "If we keep going along here we should reach the landing. Are we being followed?", his eyes scanned all directions frantically. "There are guards up ahead", Renee said, glancing up the stone steps to two guards chatting with one another. As her eyes trailed back, she noticed something caught in one of the trees up ahead. "What's that?", she pointed. From afar, a white box could be seen tucked into the leaves of one of the trees. "Don't know, but we shouldn't trouble ourselves with it", Victoire mused.
"It looks like a letter", she whispered to him, taking off in the direction of the tree ahead. Cursing at her as she went ahead, Victoire reluctantly followed after her. "It is so", she exclaimed,  taking it from the leaves she ran her fingers across the crimson wax embellished with an unknown seal. "Do you recognize this mark?".
Preoccupied, Victoire took her hand again, "The guards have walked away, now is our chance!", half dragging his sister, Victoire sprinted his way up the stone steps and towards the ladder up to the wooden landing. Tucking the letter into the sleeve of her shirt, she sprinted with him until they were both at the ladder. "And what might you two be doing this late in the night?", a voice from within the darkness of the construction ramparts said, not particularly quiet. "Who's there? Announce yourself, sir", Victoire said, defeated. "Why should I? You two are the ones who've been caught".
Stepping out into the moonlight, an older aged gentleman with a scar across his face and a fake hand appeared. "I am Victoire, son of Jean Beaumont. This is my sister, Renee", Victoire sighed. Seemingly dumbfounded, the man stepped closer, to which Victoire stepped in front of Renee protectively. "You...You're Jeans boy?", the man asked. "You know my father?", Renee spoke up, desperate for news of her father. The man nodded, "One of the greatest men I ever met. Is he here with you? At Versailles?"
The siblings shook their heads no. Looking down at the ground in understanding, the man sighed deeply, "He's not dead...I'll say that much. Beaumonts don't just get killed. Takes more than that to get rid of one of your kind". Victoire chuckled lightly at that. "Still, you being Jeans children doesn't make up for the fact that you two are out this late. Pray, what for? I wonder",  the man glanced out at the path behind them, "You seemed to have gotten past the guards well enough", he observed.
"Tell us who you are first, in exchange for our alibi", Victoire said. "Fair enough. I'm the gardener here at Versailles; they call me Jacques. I fought with your father many times before, though not this recent one. 'Fraid I've gotten too old for that, plus I've lost my hand. Can't be much of a swordsman with one hand..", he laughed at his own joke. "My thanks to your service", Victoire said stoically. Jacques just laughed again, "Oh, take nothing of it, boy. I'm still a swordsman in my own right", clicking a lever in the palm of his fake hand, out sprung a shining steel sword attached to the gauntlet that held his false hand in place. Renee and Victoire instantly gawked at the sight, earning another laugh from the gardener. "Now, your excuse?"
"We were training", Victoire said, unsheathing his sword to show Jacques, "My father....he wanted us both to know how. It's not within customary practice of most nobles, so we must do so in private".
"Dangerous to be doing that sort of thing here, boy", Jacques confirmed. "But we will continue, nonetheless", Renee spoke up, "....for our father". Jacques and Victoire smiled at her affectionately. After looking the two over for a moment, Jacques sheathed his blade back into his gauntlet, "Well, I can respect that. Still, you two need to tread lightly here. Versailles is not all you think it to be. Having said that, I have a shed of my own not too far off the palace grounds, there's plenty of space there for you two to train where it'll be safe. If you'd like, I could teach you both a few tricks". The siblings nodded in agreement. "You two better get back to where you came, the sun is almost up", he finished. Climbing up the ladder the two said their goodbyes to Jacques, who only nodded and confirmed to see them soon.
"How strange", Renee said as they entered back into her room. Fatigue catching up to her, she lazily climbed under the cool covers of her bed, "Did we just make our first friend at Versailles?", she asked. Wrapping their swords back into the bundle and tucking it back under her cloak, Victoire thought upon the question for a moment. "He knew father", he reasoned, "And he offered us an area to train in safety, which is more than we could ask for. So, I'd say yes, we did".
Renee giggled to herself, "Mother must never know of him, that much is clear". Kissing both of her cheeks as she closed her eyes to sleep, Victoire nodded in agreement, saying his good nights before slipping once more out of her window.

[Written 06.07.2019]

(Drop a vote and a comment, they help out a lot!)