OOC: One last time I'll make sure it's clear that in this NES Translation Convention is in effect except when stated otherwise.
So-Called Loyalty
Francis de Pen sighed, looking one last time over the map of Paris. "We're screwed, aren't we...", he muttered to himself.
Chevenment had somehow managed, despite Conde's opposistion, to have police barracades errected at several strategic points- as Chief of Police, de Pen had been able to personally sway Guesede (although for unknown reasons Conde seemed to have unusual levels of insight into Guesede's character that day). But all that would do would buy time- and they didn't have much of that...
Suddenly, a tall man walked into the room. de Pen didn't recognise him- and judging from the black fencing mask he wore, the man didn't want him to. The man's body language suggested he was in a good mood, but it was hard to be sure...
de Pen, however, was not. "Guards!" he cried, leaping up onto the desk. He leapt towards the door, then suddenly realised that not only was his 'assaliant' completely calm, but he now had a gun to his face.
"In a climate like this, de Pen, money is worth more than guards."
"What do you want? If you're going to shoot me, shoot- you're only going to kill a man!"
"Interesting that you would choose that particular quotation. But I will not respond cliche for cliche with you."
de Pen relaxed slightly- his intitutions had told him that the man wasn't really intending to shoot him, but he wasn't sure of that on an intitutive or explicit level- the risk alone had been making him nervous.
"I have heard that your allegiances are with Chevenment- hence the police barracades I have managed to bluff my way past."
"My allegiance is to France!"
"Ah yes- we all say that, don't we. Judging from your look, you may really believe it. But what if I were to, say, raise the stakes?"
Francis gave the man a look that resembled looking him in the eye- it was rather difficult, however, as the man had a fencing mask on. He thought he remembered somebody of the same build by Fillion's side- although the question remained why he'd work with the Republicans.
"W-what are your stakes?"
"You know perfectly well, de Pen, that in the first Revolution many nobles were killed for being that- nobles. In the early days of chaos, there were no trials- no justice or any pretence to it. Only wrath and killing."
Francis wanted him to get to the point, but he wasn't foolish enough to say that when a man had a gun to his head. So he waited.
"You may believe you are not afraid to die- perhaps you may even be willing to face death. After all, you have a family- a wife and three children. Your legacy would live on."
"Y-yes- indeed it would!"
"But I know where they live. Once we are victorious and your head is on a pike, what is to stop me sending an assasin to- end them?"
Francis de Pen sighed again. That was it- he was beaten. He was loyal to his country, but his family had to come first. There was a chance he could save them, but he'd promised his wife and children they'd be safe- there was no way he could reneg on that. There was much regret in his voice as he responded, but no hint of doubt.
"What do you want me to do?"
"Screw up, of course. Don't tell anybody we had this talk, then use horrendously bad tactics in the battle for Paris. You will be found innocent at your trial, and your family will be left out of it all. Deal?"
"It's a deal."
Chevenment's Planning
"And now Le Pen is telling me we can't win! Le Pen! That optimistic good-in-a-crisis idiot is telling me WE CAN'T WIN!"
"Muller, I understand the situation is serious-"
"Serious! Rumors say Fillion's she-dog[1] has been going around turning all our commanders against us! An 'anonymous email' even came to me!"
Chevenment sighed. He was not willing to cede Paris to traitors yet, but it looked pretty close to it- Guesde was so much in Conde's web that he thought Chevenment was the traitor, police barracades appeared to have been sabotaged (how did Le Pen let that past?), and whilst many generals were undecided between him and Conde none were willing to defy the Minister of War and march towards Paris even in the event of an armed uprising.
"There's only one thing for it- we must flee the capital, and quickly! I know Chirac, he's going to insist on killing you as a top priority! We cannot allow that! We must move-"
"No."
Muller stared at him in disbelief. "There is no possible strategic rationale for not-"
"Whatever I may say in public, Secretary Muller, my loyalty is not to France first and foremost, but to the Emperor. I swore to serve him and his sucessors, even if it should cost my life."
"If we lose both Paris and you, the Empire will never-"
"If I flee like a coward, there is no way the innocent Emperor will escape this city alive! From what you've told me of the Revolutionary Leaders, they will execute him justice be damned! If I stay, I may just be able to win- even if I cannot, I will not have sent my lord to his death! Is that understood?"
"Sir-"
"You are too loyal to me, Muller- but I would trust you with my life, if it came to that. Rush to Versallies, and get the Emperor before the rebels begin their assault. Understood?"
"But-"
"Do it!"
Muller finally rushed off, as Chevenment turned his chair around. Although he wasn't sure if it was pure optimism or genuine chance, but he still believed he could win. Naturally some of his best troops would guard the Emperor's escape- he wouldn't have it any other way. But a clash between the police and armed mobs was winnable- Le Pen remained loyal as far as he knew, and if they could hold off for long enough Guesde would finally realise what was going on. Then they could call troops in...
[1] Given the use of translation convention, replacing an English phrase Muller adopted that more accurately reflects his sentiments...
The Battle Plan
Jacques Briand swaggered into the room, a look of supreme confidence on his face. He knew perfectly well he was the only Republican leader who could pull off anywhere near as much continous oratory without seeming the slightest bit winded-
Chirac stared at him for a second. Jacques smiled, then collapsed onto the floor.
"So, we are all here. Although Legarde will be charge of military operations, we should all agree before commiting to a battle plan. Legarde?"
Legarde gestured to the map of Paris outlayed on the table, as the mysterious man known to most only as 'Fillion's dog' thought about something else. "Unfortunately, most of our men are an uncoordinated mob, and despite our best efforts we are unaware of Chevenment or Le Pen's plans-"
"Does that really matter?" interrupted the 'dog'. "We know Le Pen's planning will be incompetent, and that the barracades are no longer in play."
"Le Pen still has several options at his disposal within the letter of his bargain," replied Chirac, "I fear will be eager to strike a balance between sparing his family and serving his country."
(Jacques had caught his breath by this point, and was slowly struggling to his feet. His oratory was not worthy of being legendary, but his physical and mental endurance were both amongst the top one percent of the world)
"Anyway," exclaimed Legarde (annoyed at the continuing trend that his nominal supremacy over the war plan was being cut into), "our core army consists of five to six hundred revolutionary soldiers. I intend to put them into three divisions of two hundred, each to rally a section of the crowd to prevent a general retreat.
The crowds will rally at each of the indicated points, the ones with a cross marked as our divisions will be there. Le Pen's police will then be cut off- he knows perfectly well we are attacking today, but not officially- unless he is bluffing, we can be assured his forces will be split."
"And what if he is bluffing?" asked Jacques, who now appeared as if he was perfectly well rested (although the others, except Fillion's former advisor, knew him well enough to know he was not), "For all we know, his family is being smuggled out of Paris as we speak."
"We've hidden cameras outside the de Pen family home and through all possible exits" replied Legarde, "-including the one de Pen believes to be a secret. If they leave, we'll know about it."
"Can you be so sure?" asked Jacques. "In theory, they could-"
"de Pen can't afford those sorts of measures- in addition, he would never take the risk. If he tried anything, he knows we would kill them all- his record suggests he would never allow that."
"Speaking of records", exclaimed Chirac, "What about Chevenment's simulated Battle of Arles? If what Conde tells us is true, he refused to commit his reserves in order to ensure his King could retreat."
"I've thought of that", replied Legarde. By now, even if he was concealing it competently Chirac could tell he was getting annoyed. "But I'm told that our newest member is capable of dealing with it sufficently. Shall we continue?"
After about two hours of debating and arguing (during which Jacque's endurance finally gave out- soon he was making contributions only every once in a while), a battle plan was finally agreed. Legarde was kindly helping Jacques get off to bed, leaving Chirac and the man whose name he still did not know.
"One last issue, sir- the attack on the Emperor."
He hadn't raised this during the debate- what was he on about? Although Chirac's principles told him that they had to discuss everything before the group, the temptation to power won out this time.
"Your recommendations?"
"I hired a unit of mercenaries with Lehi connections- with my own forged money so no loss to the Revolution- and have them concentrated at a point the Emperor's guard will have to go through if leaving Versallies- unless they want to take the main road that is..."
The Republicans had commited various acts on terrorism on the main road from Versallies for years now- none had made the news, but all the Republican leaders believed by now it was a safe assumption that road would not be taken.
"So- we kill the Emperor, and complete a glorious day?"
"In my heart I would love to put the Tenth Napoleon to rest, but my brain recommends no. They will still have acess to direct communication with Chevenment, and will be able to call for reinforcements."
By now, Chirac was beginning to feel a bit tired. He knew himself well enough to know that if he didn't get some rest soon his mental abilities would plummet until he did.
"So... we want Chevenment to send reinforcements to protect his Emperor?"
His interlocutor smiled. "As many as possible."
