12-31-2021, 11:16 PM
Aurian Detention Center, Outside Lumière
December 31st, 2021, 10:58 PM
The blinding light shone in the eyes of Henri Jacquet as he vainly struggled against his restraints. Dried blood and bruises adorned his face in a twisted pattern, highlighting the abuse that he had suffered the past few days. He had been accused of being a "Rebel Conspirator" by the Garda Nacōnals, and arrested in the middle of the night. But no matter how much they tortured him, he still maintained his innocence, and kept whispering the same phrase. “Ne zem. Ne zem.” I don’t know. I don’t know.
And he was telling the truth, at least from his perspective. He didn’t know anything about any rebellion against the Cordonnier Government, and he certainly wasn’t collaborating with it. All he had done was open his church to people in need, in accordance with his oaths as a Unitist priest. Helping those in need was part of his job description. I’ve done nothing wrong! It’s not my fault!
It all started on Angeli, Unitism’s most holy holiday. A small group of desperate citizens approached Jacquet and his co-priest, Emilie Simone. They begged for rations of food as well as shelter, and since the priests had access to both of these things, they obliged. Their small church in Western Lumiere became a shelter for the homeless and in need. For three weeks, they provided aid for hundreds of destitute Aurian citizens.
Until one fateful night.
December 9th, 2021, 7:24 PM
Henri Jacquet passed up and down the aisle of the small church, passing out pillows and blankets for those needing to stay the night. A couple dozen people were lying on the pews, glad to be safe from the cold evening. Some candles burned in the corners, providing a softer light than the bright church lights would have.
A pounding on the large wooden doors drew the priest’s attention. He moved hastily as to not wake the sleeping, his long blue robes flowing behind him. He peeled open the door, revealing a disheveled young man, panting. “Brother Jacquet? Could I… Could I stay here for the night? I’ll be out of your hair in the morning.”
Jacquet opened the door, gesturing for the man to come inside before shutting the door behind him. “Welcome to Saint Anne’s. Here is a pillow and a blanket, and Sister Emilie will get you some food or a shower if you require it. You’re safe and sound for the night. If there is anything else we can help you with, please do let one of us know.”
—
December 31st
Jacquet coughed and pulled at his bonds once again, his exhaustion making his efforts brief and weak. Emilie Simone sat beside him, her hands and legs similarly bound. “Kuois avamansa merelet cis?” She asked, her voice shot from crying. What did we do to deserve this? He shook his head with what little strength he had left. “Ne zem.”
A number of Garda soldiers entered the room, followed by a man in a dressier orange uniform. “Henri Pierre Jacquet and Emilie Annabeth Simone, you are charged with sheltering a rebel agent and being accessories to treason against the Crown and Auria. Your rebel accomplice has already confessed, and as such, we no longer require your confessions. The punishment for treason against the crown is death.”
Both priests’ eyes widened, and Jacquet attempted to protest. “No, please! We are innocent priests in the Aurian tradition of Uniti-” The officer slapped him, leaving a red spot on an already purple cheek. “Traitors don’t deserve to speak back to officers.” He nodded to his men. “You know what to do. On my mark.”
The guards approached the pair, and Jacquet felt the cold barrel of a pistol on the back of his skull. “Ready. Three, two, one…” Jacquet braced and closed his eyes, saying one last prayer. God, let our souls fly freely into your loving arms.
“...Fire.”
Aurian Royal Palace, Central Lumiere
December 31st, 2021, 11:02 PM
Clink
The clinking of crystal wine glasses echoed throughout the large ballroom of the Aurian Royal Palace, accenting the pockets of light conversation. Sarah Berenstein stood by one of the tables, chatting with a pair of businessmen from Lautrec’s “Council of National Economic Growth”. She found the business executives quite dull, due to their constant bragging and eternal competition. She much preferred the passive conversation of the politicians, who actually recognized the trouble their country was in.
“And so this merger is one of the biggest that Auria has ever seen! It’s almost as big as…” She tuned their conversation out, desperately looking for an escape from their horrid discussion. A furious looking Jonathan Gerand had entered the ballroom, making a beeline for the King and his entourage. She quickly realized that whatever was happening, it would not end well. “Excuse Me, gentlemen.” She dodged and weaved between party guests, desperately trying to intercept Gerand before anything happened.
“You lying son of a bitch!”
Medti. She internally facepalmed, quickly trying to wave party guests away from the unfolding situation. Jonathan continued to storm towards the King, stopping just a few feet away from him. “You took away my company. You broke our deal to pieces, for your gain! I did what you asked, and for what?! To get stabbed in the back?!”
Berenstein quickly made her way over to the group, attempting to calm her friend down. “Jonathan, stop. We are at a public event. This is not the place for a fight.”
“A fight? I’d gladly show him a fight! We are already facing adversity from all directions! We are having major technological issues, we are running low on resources due to an apparent no-fly zone, and to top it all off, you decide to betray your allies as the enemy increases their reach.” At this point, Gerand’s voice had become a furious whisper, letting the rest of the party only wonder what he was saying.
King Andrew’s expression reflected a mood of cold anger. “You fool. Don’t be silly. You’re still the Minister of Information. Your company was subsumed for a good reason. Calling this a betrayal is a pathetic exaggeration. Now, go home, cool down, and maybe I can overlook this insolence.”
Jonathan fumed. “This isn’t over. You’ll pay for what you’ve done.” The Minister turned and left, Berenstein trailing behind him. “Jon. Jon! Wait!”
The Aurian King turned to the crowd. “I’m sorry about that, everyone! Let’s continue with our celebration! We can’t usher in a new year without merriment, after all! Let’s enjoy the final moments of the year while we still can!”
December 31st, 2021, 10:58 PM
The blinding light shone in the eyes of Henri Jacquet as he vainly struggled against his restraints. Dried blood and bruises adorned his face in a twisted pattern, highlighting the abuse that he had suffered the past few days. He had been accused of being a "Rebel Conspirator" by the Garda Nacōnals, and arrested in the middle of the night. But no matter how much they tortured him, he still maintained his innocence, and kept whispering the same phrase. “Ne zem. Ne zem.” I don’t know. I don’t know.
And he was telling the truth, at least from his perspective. He didn’t know anything about any rebellion against the Cordonnier Government, and he certainly wasn’t collaborating with it. All he had done was open his church to people in need, in accordance with his oaths as a Unitist priest. Helping those in need was part of his job description. I’ve done nothing wrong! It’s not my fault!
It all started on Angeli, Unitism’s most holy holiday. A small group of desperate citizens approached Jacquet and his co-priest, Emilie Simone. They begged for rations of food as well as shelter, and since the priests had access to both of these things, they obliged. Their small church in Western Lumiere became a shelter for the homeless and in need. For three weeks, they provided aid for hundreds of destitute Aurian citizens.
Until one fateful night.
December 9th, 2021, 7:24 PM
Henri Jacquet passed up and down the aisle of the small church, passing out pillows and blankets for those needing to stay the night. A couple dozen people were lying on the pews, glad to be safe from the cold evening. Some candles burned in the corners, providing a softer light than the bright church lights would have.
A pounding on the large wooden doors drew the priest’s attention. He moved hastily as to not wake the sleeping, his long blue robes flowing behind him. He peeled open the door, revealing a disheveled young man, panting. “Brother Jacquet? Could I… Could I stay here for the night? I’ll be out of your hair in the morning.”
Jacquet opened the door, gesturing for the man to come inside before shutting the door behind him. “Welcome to Saint Anne’s. Here is a pillow and a blanket, and Sister Emilie will get you some food or a shower if you require it. You’re safe and sound for the night. If there is anything else we can help you with, please do let one of us know.”
—
December 31st
Jacquet coughed and pulled at his bonds once again, his exhaustion making his efforts brief and weak. Emilie Simone sat beside him, her hands and legs similarly bound. “Kuois avamansa merelet cis?” She asked, her voice shot from crying. What did we do to deserve this? He shook his head with what little strength he had left. “Ne zem.”
A number of Garda soldiers entered the room, followed by a man in a dressier orange uniform. “Henri Pierre Jacquet and Emilie Annabeth Simone, you are charged with sheltering a rebel agent and being accessories to treason against the Crown and Auria. Your rebel accomplice has already confessed, and as such, we no longer require your confessions. The punishment for treason against the crown is death.”
Both priests’ eyes widened, and Jacquet attempted to protest. “No, please! We are innocent priests in the Aurian tradition of Uniti-” The officer slapped him, leaving a red spot on an already purple cheek. “Traitors don’t deserve to speak back to officers.” He nodded to his men. “You know what to do. On my mark.”
The guards approached the pair, and Jacquet felt the cold barrel of a pistol on the back of his skull. “Ready. Three, two, one…” Jacquet braced and closed his eyes, saying one last prayer. God, let our souls fly freely into your loving arms.
“...Fire.”
Aurian Royal Palace, Central Lumiere
December 31st, 2021, 11:02 PM
Clink
The clinking of crystal wine glasses echoed throughout the large ballroom of the Aurian Royal Palace, accenting the pockets of light conversation. Sarah Berenstein stood by one of the tables, chatting with a pair of businessmen from Lautrec’s “Council of National Economic Growth”. She found the business executives quite dull, due to their constant bragging and eternal competition. She much preferred the passive conversation of the politicians, who actually recognized the trouble their country was in.
“And so this merger is one of the biggest that Auria has ever seen! It’s almost as big as…” She tuned their conversation out, desperately looking for an escape from their horrid discussion. A furious looking Jonathan Gerand had entered the ballroom, making a beeline for the King and his entourage. She quickly realized that whatever was happening, it would not end well. “Excuse Me, gentlemen.” She dodged and weaved between party guests, desperately trying to intercept Gerand before anything happened.
“You lying son of a bitch!”
Medti. She internally facepalmed, quickly trying to wave party guests away from the unfolding situation. Jonathan continued to storm towards the King, stopping just a few feet away from him. “You took away my company. You broke our deal to pieces, for your gain! I did what you asked, and for what?! To get stabbed in the back?!”
Berenstein quickly made her way over to the group, attempting to calm her friend down. “Jonathan, stop. We are at a public event. This is not the place for a fight.”
“A fight? I’d gladly show him a fight! We are already facing adversity from all directions! We are having major technological issues, we are running low on resources due to an apparent no-fly zone, and to top it all off, you decide to betray your allies as the enemy increases their reach.” At this point, Gerand’s voice had become a furious whisper, letting the rest of the party only wonder what he was saying.
King Andrew’s expression reflected a mood of cold anger. “You fool. Don’t be silly. You’re still the Minister of Information. Your company was subsumed for a good reason. Calling this a betrayal is a pathetic exaggeration. Now, go home, cool down, and maybe I can overlook this insolence.”
Jonathan fumed. “This isn’t over. You’ll pay for what you’ve done.” The Minister turned and left, Berenstein trailing behind him. “Jon. Jon! Wait!”
The Aurian King turned to the crowd. “I’m sorry about that, everyone! Let’s continue with our celebration! We can’t usher in a new year without merriment, after all! Let’s enjoy the final moments of the year while we still can!”
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