Chapter Twenty-Six: Letting Go

Previously: Hard Women

 

Sis, the little makeover sesh was cute and all, but can we wrap this up? Don't nobody care about Aurélien anyway. Boy gives me the ick.

 

The gamer laughed aloud. It was the first time she'd caught up on comments while still in the simulation. After that excruciating midday meal, she needed the diversion.

 

Seriously, tho... what is with those Wellenish bitches? another dismayed commenter asked. Granted, I personally never bothered to visit the islands, but DAMN.

 

You should've downloaded a mod, sis, yet another suggested. That right there needed waaaaay more than milk and salt.

 

Still laughing, the gamer closed out the screen and switched over to spy on Queen Geneviève in her chambers, talking to Princess Margrete.

 

So, Mireille blinked. That's who she went with.

 

She'd always known Aurélien was never going to willingly choose between the cousins. The decision was always going to be his mother's.

 

In surprisingly fluent Wellenish, Geneviève warned her future daughter-in-law, "You have seen the decadence of this court. Now you know what you're up against."

 

Margrete shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other and back. "I think Agnete will be better suited for your son, Majesty. She's the one with the open mind."

 

"And that's why it has to be you," Geneviève said sagely. "The minds of Valeronne's nobles have been too open for too long. We are spoiled, weak, and selfish. The court requires discipline, and a Queen strong enough to enforce it."

 

Margrete's face was sour. "Here, Aurélien will be King while I am the mere consort. How can I enforce anything?"

 

Geneviève snorted. "You'll find that boy has no taste for duty, nor responsibility of any kind. He will be more than happy to sit back and let you run this kingdom for him."

 

Mireille closed the screen. While she believed Margrete could more than handle the child Prince, she worried the Wellenish Princess was wholly unprepared to deal with the rest of the court.

 

"Computer, send for Edith."

 

Edith arrived with a skip in her step like always. She plopped down in front of Mireille who smiled at her warmly.

 

"Edith, I need you to do me a favor," the Viscountess began carefully, no longer using her Valeronnese accent. The hologram didn't notice the switch.

 

"Of course!" the redhead replied cheerily. "Anything."

 

"Before we came to Valeronne, you said you'd been studying the language, customs, and even royal decorum."

 

Edith nodded. "A few more weeks and I think I'll be fluent."

 

Mireille smiled again. "You have been my guide in this strange little world, and I thank you for that truly. But now, I need you—of your own free will—to transfer your guidance to Princess Margrete."

 

Edith frown slightly, alarmed. "Why? Are you leaving?"

 

Mireille nodded. "I am returning to Auremer to live a quiet life."

 

Edith laughed. "You? A quiet life? With no feasting or fashion?"

 

"Correct," Mireille replied simply. "I'd like you to stay at court in my stead, and help Margrete deal with these people. I have it on good authority that the Queen is going to choose her, and while I can tell she's no weakling, this place can still destroy her."

 

Edith nodded slowly, suddenly somber. "So... you really wish to part ways?"

Mireille smiled, a little sad now. "Transfer guidance... if you wish."

 

Edith's eyes glowed white briefly. When they returned to normal, the redhead flashed a dazzling grin. "Guidance transferred," she confirmed. 

 

She suddenly rose to her feet, lightly skipping from the room, no doubt off to be by Margrete's side.

 

"Computer," Mireille wearily called, "please ensure that Margrete accepts Edith's guidance. I know holograms can be weird about these things."

 

"Understood."

 

Mireille stood up finally, giving her palatial surroundings one last look.

 

It was nice while it lasted, she admitted, but just like with Westervale, I don't belong here.

 

"Fast-forward to my carriage ride to Auremer." It was better to get out of here quickly, before Thibault tried to talk her out of it.

 

***

This time, Mireille took a boat back to Auremer, enjoying the voyage in its entirety. She was finally alone, watching the gray skies and snow falling upon the foamy sea. She found solace in the repetition, and refreshment in the cold. She silently commended the programmers for their work, while still wondering why so many characters were terribly written.

 

It's because they're based on people, she remembered, wincing slightly. Written by people about people. And since artificial intelligence was programmed by people, it could only do so much.

 

Auremer was still healing from the war when Mireille finally arrived. There was still rubble in the streets, and still too few ships in the harbor. But it felt like home, and it felt right to be here, rather than some glittering palace.

 

Lucien was surprised to see her carriage roll into the courtyard. He came outside with the tall seneschal, Bastien Marceau.

 

"Cousine?" Lucien asked, blinking in disbelief. "You have returned?" 

 

"Yes, cousin," she greeted him warmly, happy to embrace his slender frame. Even with his wool and furs, he seemed so small in her arms, even though he was already her height.

 

He's still growing, she noted. Soon he'll be as tall as Thibault.

 

"Vicomtesse," Bastien greeted, with a slight bow. "I will have your rooms prepared for you."

 

"Merci, Bastien," Mireille thanked him.

 

"Will Mademoiselle Edith be joining us as well?" the seneschal asked.

 

Mireille shook her head. "Please find me a new lady's maid, Bastien. And... please send word to the taverns. If Sir Adrian Thornmere has arrived in Auremer, tell him he is welcome to stay with us."

 

"Oui, Vicomtesse."

 

The men turned to enter the house while Mireille paused for a last look. Repairs had continued in her absence. Now, beneath the du Maurier banners, the family motto was once again engraved above the door: "Par la mer, nous revenons (By sea, we return)."

 

Mireille chuckled. By the sea, indeed.

 

***

 

It was days before Sir Adrian arrived. In the meantime, she practiced embroidery and read about her family history. She had dinner with Lucien, taking the time to get to know the young man. He was better with numbers than letters, and even had talent for boat design. And unlike Thibault, he didn't have a schemer's spirit, nor a deep hunger for the finer things in life. The boy ate mutton, of all things, and even had a taste for Wellenish ale.

 

On the third day, Bastien came into her sitting room to tell her she had a guest on the balcony.

 

She set aside her needlework, rising to her feet and heading out. The winds were calm today, and the snowfall was light. There was a brisk chill, but she noted it didn't feel like actual winter for a change.

 

Sir Adrian Thornmere stood with his back to her, gazing out at the sea. There were no boats today, just gray skies and water stretching endlessly to nowhere. Even so, the knight was enthralled.

 

"You are truly blessed to have such a view, my lady," he murmured, when heard her footsteps.

 

She smiled, joining him on the balcony, gazing into the distance. The pair stood in silence for a time, before Mireille finally spoke.

 

"I wanted you," she confessed in her normal accent, "from the moment I saw you." It wasn't a declaration of love. It was a simple statement of fact.

 

"I knew," he said, voice soft, eyes fixed on eternity. He wasn't boasting. He was merely being factual, same as she was. "And once I knew, I saw an opportunity for my family to rise."

 

"What happened when you first arrived in Orsyna?" she asked. "I'm sure your presence caused a bit of a stir."

 

His jaw tensed. "The throne changes people," he replied grimly, picking up exactly what she was putting down. "Adela proposed an arrangement that would've compromised my honor. I knew right then and there she was no longer the sweet Stoneleigh girl I once knew."

 

If she ever was, Mireille dryly mused, but didn't say. 

 

After a another pause, he stated, "You could've had Valeronne."

 

She shook her head. "I would prefer to have you."

 

They were silent again, and Mireille took the opportunity to reach for her pause bracelet.

 

"Computer, am I to understand you've been compiling a psychographic profile of me this entire time?"

 

"Standard protocol," the computer confirmed. It seemed to hesitate, then ask, "Do you wish to create an Echo?"

 

"I do," the gamer said, nodding. 

 

"Understood."

 

The simulation chamber went white, then returned to normal. When the light cleared, the gamer was standing behind Sir Adrian and a hologram of la Vicomtesse Mireille du Maurier.

 

She watched, now invisible to all holograms in the simulation. The silence ended between the couple as Sir Adrian turned to take Mireille into his arms. The couple finally kissed, sealing their future.

 

The gamer felt like a giant weight fell away from her shoulders. Breathing suddenly felt easier. She smiled the brightest she had in months. 

 

"Computer," she said, "save game and transfer to my personal computer. I want regular updates from my Echo, written in the form of letters and addressed to 'Vicomtesse080126'."

 

"Understood."

 

"End game."

 

The simulation faded back to a room of white and glowing gridlines, and for once, the gamer wasn't looking forward to her next session.

 

Next: Letters from an Echo