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Hmm... 1782 then (six years before 1788). One year before the American Revolution has officially ended. French fleet was battered at The Saintes. And a Lost Number is potentially going to be unleashed that would bring on the Revolution early (or it is ongoing and takes time to unfold...)

For the sake of Georgie W and his buddies across the pond, I hope the Marquise is foiled.

EDIT - And if Francois is licking diamonds, I hope he's got an iron stomach. God help him if he swallows one on accident. Symbolism of a corrupt system that can injure its participants if they are not careful?
 
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I am enjoying the wheels within wheels. It may just be me but I also enjoy the flavour you are taking from the original text that these people are being distracted by their facile games with their "points" whilst reality slowly builds along in the background and ultimately overtakes them as their pretend world collapses. Albeit with your usual mystical undertones.

Bravo and well done, sir.

Exactly my thoughts, everybody is trying to play everybody else, save for the few 'innocents' that are caught up in the game, the entire situation emanates with a sort of debilitating corruption that will either drag the characters down, or will cause themselves to violently eject themselves from the system. And this is without a bloody revolution..
 
A revolution, eh? Great writing, and a great update.

Thank you so much :D ! I really do appreciate that !

An excellent update and a happy birthday to the lucky fellow :D

Thank you ! Always happy to see you satisfied with the updates :D

I loved the opening letter. Very heartfelt. Given the lovely dedication, I suspect it is also quite genuine in its intent. The person with no middle name has received a beautiful gift indeed.

I am enjoying the wheels within wheels. It may just be me but I also enjoy the flavour you are taking from the original text that these people are being distracted by their facile games with their "points" whilst reality slowly builds along in the background and ultimately overtakes them as their pretend world collapses. Albeit with your usual mystical undertones.

Bravo and well done, sir.

Ahh thank you thank you really ! yes , that opening letter had a lot of my own emotion behind it so I wanted to hit as close to the chest as I could pulling from memory and experience as well as the Jungian psychology I've been learning XD

Oh Davout , I'm so glad you like the wheels within wheels interplay as you call it haha . It's a real vindication to see the architecture appreciated !

That's a very panmythological birth-date; and a great present as well.

The Revolution. Sounds ever so ominous.

It's an interesting horoscopal tome don't you think ? XD

Hmm... 1782 then (six years before 1788). One year before the American Revolution has officially ended. French fleet was battered at The Saintes. And a Lost Number is potentially going to be unleashed that would bring on the Revolution early (or it is ongoing and takes time to unfold...)

For the sake of Georgie W and his buddies across the pond, I hope the Marquise is foiled.

EDIT - And if Francois is licking diamonds, I hope he's got an iron stomach. God help him if he swallows one on accident. Symbolism of a corrupt system that can injure its participants if they are not careful?

Well it would be 1783 right now . six years would be 1789 which would be the start of the french revo . Haha , and François lives on the edge !

Exactly my thoughts, everybody is trying to play everybody else, save for the few 'innocents' that are caught up in the game, the entire situation emanates with a sort of debilitating corruption that will either drag the characters down, or will cause themselves to violently eject themselves from the system. And this is without a bloody revolution..

the poor characters . They're all so pitiful in their own way ! Thank you for reading ! I'm always glad to have you with us . And yes your analysis is correct : we'll have to see how this house of cards holds up .
 
I suspect that the lack of an update may be due to canonized engaging in a dangerous liaison over the summer break, n'est-ce pas?
 
A plot to start a French revolution, eh? It seems that control of the situation is steadily slipping away from poor Leon, with all conspiracies and the exposure of a new weakness of his.
 
I suspect that the lack of an update may be due to canonized engaging in a dangerous liaison over the summer break, n'est-ce pas?

haha your instincts are rather uncanny , you know that ?

A plot to start a French revolution, eh? It seems that control of the situation is steadily slipping away from poor Leon, with all conspiracies and the exposure of a new weakness of his.

There's definitely a lot more than just seductions going on to be sure ! Poor Léon . He's the real one getting played as a pawn .

Something is wrong. More, please.

A birthday in december?
A mistake of the awakening hormones of springtime? :cool:

haha : cute . I'm working on the update as we speak and I definitely am going to get it done today !
 
Chapter VI: François d'Ardoinville​

25 June 1783

Dear Elly,

What lesson shall I talk to you about today? This one might be a short one. The biggest weakness of most men is their pride. Stoke the fires of their weaknesses enough and you can get them to strike. This puts them off balance. This places them in the position of an offense while you are cool, collected and ready. This also applies in reverse. Never allow yourself to be motivated by emotion: especially by anger. Remember that in the end, you are the final measure of yourself. What other people say of you is irrelevant. Pretend to be hurt when it suits you: pretend to be affected when it's best, but at the end of the day, no one can touch you and those that try are merely showing their own weaknesses. Exploit it as best as you can.

Love,
Léon


~~​

Léon stepped forward faster. His shoes were clicking against the marble staircase as he descended to where François was having a stroll across the rear gardens. Léon prepared his face: something cordial: don't let any anger about the other night flash forward.

“François!” he called out as he reached the bottom of the steps. The other young man kept walking. Léon's eyebrow contracted slightly, but he resumed his smile nonetheless as he walked up beside him. Léon could only see that François' eyes were misty, distant. His expression was as empty as a tomb. Léon tried to reach him: “François,” Léon said more quietly, “I was--”

“There you are!” a voice shrieked out from ahead of them. A shadowy figure of a woman swept down at the two of them like a slice of winter air. She put herself directly in between the two men and wrapped a cold arm around the young François.

“You must be Madame Boudreaux...” Léon deduced.

A sharp face glared at Léon. “No, I'm the Marquise de Sade. What are you, stupid? Of course I'm Madame Boudreaux.” The woman turned to the entangled yet expressionless François. “Jesus Christ, François, you didn't tell me he was dropped a few times on the head when he was younger.”

Léon observed the woman for a second and then back to François who didn't seem to respond at all. “Had a good day?” he politely asked the one in between them.

“Actually I did,” Madame Boudreaux replied, “so stop being coy: you're failing horribly at it.”

Léon decided to let her talk, but kept his eyes on François. It was an unexpected scenario: he needed to do some reconaissance. “So tell me something about yourself, Madame.”

“Well for one thing: I'm not a lying, cheating hypocrite like some people in this conversation,” here she leaned in violently at Léon while stabbing a finger against his collarbone, “I'm talking about you, obviously.” A grin erupted on her face like a fissure in the earth, “but tell me something about yourself, now. And please try to make it interesting: I'd rather not faint from total boredom in the next two minutes.”

Léon carefully watched François from the corner of his eyes for any reaction. Nothing changed in the disposition of that young man. He was curious as to the whole point of it: especially what François was getting out of it, so he kept going. “I've been learning some new foreign betting games lately. There was one from the Ming Dynas--”

“So you consort with dirty Chinamen? Good to know,” she interrupted.

Léon shifted his attention for a moment to the grinning woman holding onto François like an octopus. Her dark hair frayed rebelliously around her eyes and touched the edge of her somewhat purple shaded lips. “So how did you get to know François? He's said some rather nice things about you.” It was the truth. The times that François had spoken about Madame Boudreaux it was always in a positive context. Léon watched for her reaction, but nothing but more acid dripped from between her teeth as she pronounced her words.

“I met him in prison,” she replied trying to hold back a laugh. “He was doing charity work with his local church at the women's prison. That's why I don't use five year olds as prostitutes anymore.”

“Were you two childhood friends?” Léon decided to avoid the lie.

“That's none of your goddamn business,” she snapped at him. “Why would I share that information? You're a rapist, aren't you?” she craned her neck forward violently. She spat while she accused. “You really are. You probably rape cats and are looking to move on to people. There's a stable over there, why don't you go f--- some horses.”

Léon let out an inaudible sigh through his nose. His eyes refocused on François who followed the step by step motion of the woman. No reaction? he thought to himself. “So has François been a good friend to you?” Léon asked.

Madame Boudreaux pretended to think. “Obviously,” she hissed. “We are the best of friends. Alright,” she said with a forced sigh. “I know this is going to be extremely difficult for you. But please, just try it. Try thinking and ask something that wouldn't have been asked by a dimwitted son of a whore.” She raised up a hand dramatically to pause which made Léon blink for a moment. “I know, I know,” she said with her head moving from side to side and her eyes closed, “It's almost impossible for you, but let's just try it. Just once.” She leaned in and set her eyes to glare at him again, but a small glint of silver caught her eye. “What's that?” she pointed to Léon's neck.

“This?” Léon satisfied her curiosity and pulled the silver necklace upward. A small medallion rested on the trailing end of it sporting a embossed image of “Sancta Caecilia.” “Something my mother gave me as a remembrance of the parish I grew up in as a child before she died.”

“It's blasphemous,” she slurred. “Keep it away. Your mother probably sucks the Virgin Mary's cocks in hell.”

Léon kept walking forward with them as they crossed another section of garden. “How long have you two known each other then?” Léon asked as he calmly put his medallion back underneath his tunic and fixed his cravat.

“Fifty two years,” she answered before glaring at him again. “Stop fishing for information. I know you're obsessed with François, but there are other topics of conversation, you know. You could always ask me where I've visited, what I've studied, or how I feel about the decline of the Ottoman Turks. Maybe even who my favourite composer is. All of these are much more interesting than your little rape-quest.” She let out a tremendous sigh from her little chest. “But then again I guess that would require having an intellect greater than a watermelon so maybe I shouldn't be so hard on you. It isn't your fault your parents were siblings and gave birth to a deformed pig fetus.” She leaned in to Léon. “I'm talking about you,” she whispered.

“François likes to write and he's rather talented. What do you think about his material?” Léon felt like he was raising the stakes to test a new player's hands.

“François is a very good writer and very talented!” she replied with a flurry of fingers in the air to emphasize her praise. “In fact, he's writing a novel that he's dedicating to me. It's rather fantastic. Has he let you read any of it? All of his friends have: but he is rather selective about whom he chooses.”

“I don't think he and I are that good of friends anymore,” Léon politely smiled.

“Well maybe you shouldn't be such a c—t. François would probably be your friend if you weren't such a scumsucking slut.” She shrugged. “Just being honest,” she added in a high pitched tone while closing her eyes.

“I think it's nice he's dedicating it to you,” Léon replied, widening his smile. “I'm going to start writing something myself as well that I'll be dedicating to a friend. Somehow there's something more rewarding when that particular person reads it and enjoys it more so than other people liking it.”

“Amazing!” Boudreaux replied with a quiver in her voice. “I bet it's just so magnificent! I bet your story is so well written that the press will pick it up and the King himself will reward you! Maybe he'll even let you eat his--”

The woman paused. Léon noticed it immediately. François' hand had reached up to tug on Boudreaux's elbow. Pallid eyes found Léon's. “Come by tonight around nine. We'll talk then,” François said. Léon stood there a bit surprised by the interruption as the two others changed course and left him standing in the middle of the garden.

~~​

“You just let her humiliate you like that?” the Marquise chuckled.

“It's not like anyone else was watching--”

“But why bother? People like that aren't interested in talking, they're interested in taking easy shots at someone they dislike. Either that or they're really that crude.”

“I wanted to talk to François. She wouldn't leave,” Léon explained as he sat on one end of the sofa with his leg up on the table in front of him.

“And did he talk to you?” the Marquise asked from the other side of the table sitting on her own sofa with her gloved hands folded over her stomach.

“Not until the end. He just let it happen.”

“I don't see why you even want to talk with that worthless boy anymore,” the Marquise sighed and rolled her eyes.

“He's not worthless,” Léon could only whisper it back.

“Not worthless?” the Marquise let out a short laugh. “He lives off his grandmother's dwindling revenue. When she dies, he's probably going to be another landless penniless Parisian who has no direction in his life. He squanders the money he's given, he drinks and parties to forget how pathetic he and his friend that bitch Boudreaux are.”

“But--” Léon attempted to protest.

“For goodness sakes, Léon, he stays at home all day. He sleeps at the worst hours because he has no life outside of the pretend writings he scribbles and that awful guttertrash music he listens to. He has no education and no future. Half the time that boy doesn't even know he's doomed because he's too busy being intoxicated by the latest chemical. You had your fun with him, now let him go!”

“How am I any different than he is?” Léon retorted, barely able to pull his eyes up to meet the Marquise's grinning glare. “What have I been doing except pulling men and women right and left for fun and games...”

“You're different because you have a future: you have hope. We trained you well at the Academy, Léon. You have an infinite future ahead of you now. You're destined for greater things! François will die young. One can hope at least: otherwise he's going to wish he were dead once that old hag he's clinging to dies. If you think there's hope for him, then you're just as deluded as he is. There's nothing worth there for you to salvage. Let him go.”

“He asked me to visit him tonight,” Léon said.

“And you're going?” the Marquise raised her eyebrows.

“Of course.”

“There's nothing but pain for you there, Léon,” the Marquise sighed as she spoke. “He hates you, you know.”

“No, I don't know,” Léon was a bit annoyed. “That's why I want to go and find out--”

The Marquise watched Léon's face for a moment before curling her lips. “He knows that you wanted him to cry after you had sex with him. That it aroused you.”

Léon's eyes narrowed. “That's not what I-- how did you find out about that? I thought I only told Guillaume...”

“Guillaume told your little friend about it. During a tutoring session,” she lied. There was a bit of silence afterward. Léon looked relaxed in his sitting position with his leg against that wooden table, but it was like he was holding himself there by a string. He was tense and he looked away to the pillow on the side of him. “Now,” the Marquise continued as if she was rotating a knife, “François knows of your reputation for 'trouble.' I'm afraid he won't ever trust you again.”

“That's not even what I meant when I said that to Guillaume,” Léon tried to say. “I was just explaining how badly--”

“Oh you don't need to explain to me, darling,” the Marquise laughed. “There's no one alive anymore that cares what circumstance you said those things in. Guillaume has made it easy for you: he provided your way out of having to follow through with that little strumpet. Now you can go off on other more pressing matters... or find better candidates. I can't believe you even stooped so low as to pick up an ugly little vagrant like him. You could have at least taught him how to shave properly.”

Léon just sat there for a few more seconds. “Very well,” he said as he pulled himself up. He turned to the other side of the parlour.

“You're not going to go there anyway tonight, are you?” The Marquise asked. Léon paused. “That little witch Boudreaux is going to just humiliate you again,” she added.

“If that were to happen, she'd have a good reason to. If someone were to explain to her that her friend was being taken advantage of, I think it's only natural that she'd act the way she does. She's only trying to be a friend, I suppose.”

“A friend? Where are these idiotic notions of friendships coming from? François won't be your friend, Léon, he'll never trust you again. No one will ever trust you. Guillaume proved that. Boudreaux isn't François' friend: she's just another parasite who indulges his bad behaviour. You're someone to be feared, Léon, not loved. That's why we had you read Machiavelli, right? Your only real friend is me. The only other friend you have are the players of the game.”

~~​

It was the twenty first hour of the day. Léon stood at the gate of the Ardoinville manor. He could hear the music inside playing. He saw Armand the porter approach him. He introduced himself, though it was hardly necessary. He asked to be shown in and was promptly refused.

He asked again, almost as if it was a mistake, perhaps. The same answer as the other night. “The master is not in.”

“I can see him right there at the window, Armand!” Léon pointed towards the silhouette.

“I'm afraid that the master is not in,” was the repeated answer.

It took a moment or two and another try with Armand before it was clear that Léon was mistaken again. He turned around and walked away. A heap of dandelions was thrown into the gutter as he boarded his carriage.

~~​

Marie Boudreaux was laughing so hard she was spilling her drink on the carpet. “I can't believe he actually showed up,” she cackled.

François had a half smirk on his face and laughed quietly. “It was a good little ploy. Minus two points for speaking to him, but a plus ten on baiting him into it,” he tallied. “I could barely keep my face still the way you were talking to him.” He let out a laugh remembering it.

“Do you think he'll try again?” Boudreaux asked.

François just shrugged as he watched the carriage move off in the distance. “He's stubborn; even if he is a son of a whore.”

~~​

Léon could see Luc's back slightly arched over under the lamp in the distance. The notepad was in the young man's arms: he must be drawing in it. Léon raised his hand up for a moment, but hesitated. Just go home... or pass by another house... you don't need to... was going through his head, but he ended up touching the bell at the top anyway. Luc's head turned around from across part of the garden. A moon like smile showed itself on that young man's face.

Luc stepped towards the gate with his notebook tucked inside of his right arm. “I wasn't expecting you tonight,” Luc said as he finally came to the gate.

“My evening plans got... canceled,” Léon explained. “Do you mind?” he tried to smile.

The latch of the gate was undone and Léon slipped inside into the grounds. It was another short, quiet walk for the two of them. Past the usual shrubberies to that little paved area where Luc had gotten used to setting up his equipment. The bench on the left had unofficially become Léon's spot while the one on the right held Luc's instrument and other materials. The benches themselves, of course, were just stone slabs that traced a portion of an invisible circle going around the central paved area. They were usually cold in the evenings.

“How are you tonight?” Luc asked. He watched the tired expression on Léon shift uncomfortably. He paid close attention to the answer.

“Tired,” Léon replied.

“Had a busy day?”

“Not exactly... just... lots of things to think about.” Léon took his seat on his bench and hunched over to place his elbows on on his knees and his neck against his hands.

“Well... it's alright if you want to go. I wasn't really expecting you this evening anyway...”

“No, don't worry,” Léon looked up. “You said the other night that you wanted to read the sample I wrote...” Léon forced a smile as he pulled out some papers from underneath his jacket.

“Oh?” Luc perked up as he stepped over to Léon's side of the circle. “Is this the sample you were going to show your writer friend tonight?”

Léon took a moment to look at the papers before raising them up for Luc to take from him. “Yeah. He was busy, so I thought I'd let you read it.”

“Are you sure? I thought this writer friend of yours helped you a lot writing this...”

“No no, it's alright. I think you'll be better qualified to evaluate this for me, anyway,” Léon reassured.

Luc looked at those intense eyes staring at him. “I'll read it right away, then!” he said as he backed up into the lamplight on his side of the circle.

“While you do: do you mind if I sneak into your kitchen? I'm rather thirsty.”

“No, of course not,” Luc was happy to oblige him. “I'll let you use my key, actually.”

“You have a key to the kitchen?” Léon was a bit amused.

“Nights like these, I go out here in the garden and I don't want any of the servants to bother themselves this late... so I just have a key of my own. Don't worry, I'll be sure to finish reading by the time you get back!” he promised as he handed over the metal object.

Léon thanked him and found his way to the kitchen. It was only a simple matter of finding the cupboard that was previously agreed upon. He opened it, found the note saying “the preparations you asked for are in place,” while depositing a small bag of gold. Tonight isn't a total loss, I suppose, he thought to himself as he made his way back out to the garden.
 
The Marquise will say anything, I suppose, to keep Leon playing her game.

And whose money does Leon live on, exactly? What will he do when the Revolution comes?
 
I love the letters at the start of each chapter. I was thinking stoic Machiavellian as I read the letter and then further down, voila. If only Leon followed his own advice.

I found picturing Helena Bonham-Carter brought Mme Boudreaux to life in that dialogue.

Well done again.
 
I found picturing Helena Bonham-Carter brought Mme Boudreaux to life in that dialogue.

....what a nice plump frame whatshisname has...had...HAS.....
 
Ahh poor Leon, played like a fool once more, though I am intrigued about this money business..

And I agree on the Bonham Carter thing.
 
I just found out you've 'finished' Timelines. Wow. That AAR was something that was always there. Kinda.. Weird. :p


Anyways, I thought I'd read at least one of your AARs so I don't stick out THAT much. Expect me to pop up some time in the future to say what I think after I catch up.
 
The Marquise will say anything, I suppose, to keep Leon playing her game.

And whose money does Leon live on, exactly? What will he do when the Revolution comes?

ahh good questions ! That will actually be explored down the line !

I love the letters at the start of each chapter. I was thinking stoic Machiavellian as I read the letter and then further down, voila. If only Leon followed his own advice.

I found picturing Helena Bonham-Carter brought Mme Boudreaux to life in that dialogue.

Well done again.

Haha : you know , she would fit . And thank you ! the letters provide me with a fun little way of exposing themes in the chapter !

....what a nice plump frame whatshisname has...had...HAS.....

hahaha oh gosh ...

Pain?
What else is there in life, if not pain?

So existential of you , Enewald !

Ahh poor Leon, played like a fool once more, though I am intrigued about this money business..

And I agree on the Bonham Carter thing.

Haha : he has to learn , but he still has a few tricks up his sleeves ! Will there ever be reconciliation between Léon and François ? Is Luc just an unfortunate victim or is he the breath of fresh air that Léon hasn't had in forever ? What is the plan for Cécile ? What is the Marquise' real agenda ? Ahh so many things to write about !


I just found out you've 'finished' Timelines. Wow. That AAR was something that was always there. Kinda.. Weird. :p


Anyways, I thought I'd read at least one of your AARs so I don't stick out THAT much. Expect me to pop up some time in the future to say what I think after I catch up.

Haha . I might go back to Timelines sometime just for the hard core fans and myself . I might also give the person without a middle name some time to catch up on that huge epic before I continue it haha . Thanks for joining with us :D Have fun ! We look forward to your comments !
 
You sure do love playboy characters and fiendishly complicated storylines, don't you? You've struck a wonderful balance in Leon between manipulative and decency, he promises to be a very interesting character. The letters to Elly, in particular, suggest interesting possibilities for later on.

On a side note, I can't believe you finished Timelines! I expected it to run longer than MASH! Now I just need to go through the hundred or so chapters I've missed and I'll be ready for the sequel/prequel/made-for-tv-mini-series. Cheers!:D
 
Madame Boudreaux is so angry. I love her character!:D
 
You sure do love playboy characters and fiendishly complicated storylines, don't you? You've struck a wonderful balance in Leon between manipulative and decency, he promises to be a very interesting character. The letters to Elly, in particular, suggest interesting possibilities for later on.

On a side note, I can't believe you finished Timelines! I expected it to run longer than MASH! Now I just need to go through the hundred or so chapters I've missed and I'll be ready for the sequel/prequel/made-for-tv-mini-series. Cheers!:D

haha playboy characters are close to my heart haha . complicated storylines are just how life is sometimes !! And thank you ! I'm glad Léon can evoke sophisticated reactions ! And i actually haven't 'finished' timelines . I'm just putting the ole girl on ice for now .

Madame Boudreaux is so angry. I love her character!:D

Haha I had excellent inspiration for her
 
Poor Leon. Everyone is abandoning him or playing with him, except for Luc. I suspect he will have a hard time getting out of your little story alive.
 
Poor Leon. Everyone is abandoning him or playing with him, except for Luc. I suspect he will have a hard time getting out of your little story alive.

Haha Luc or Léon ? Gosh , what if both end up being the true victims in all of this . XD Ahh I'm definitely revved up for the next chapter . I think you guys will have some fun with me on this one .