Ainsi je frappe - the pasts and presents of Isabelle Montlaville de Chanteloup

[Lanakov]

The Gallic war is nearing its end, unbeknownst to our characters.

An advancing Rheinlandic battlegroup advances in formation and bears down on several stations in orbit of a distinctive planet. Fast-forward to a Kusari fleet intercepting the Rheinlanders in a violent battle. The feed is minimised into a square at the upper right of the screen, which now displays solemn Kusari governmental representatives in session, followed by their angrier, shoutier Rheinlander counterparts. At the bottom of the screen, a red banner displaying the words ESCALADE IN THE SIGMAS : WAR IS DECLARED. Grand Maréchal Jean-Paul Macron raised a hand, and the feed cut on a close-up of a Tokugawa battleship in disarray.

"Open, high intensity warfare... Between our two main trade partners in the entire sector" said the Maréchal, still looking at the screen.

Chanteloup was still digesting what she had just seen. She couldn't help but ask.
"Did you know this would happen ?"
"Of course", came the obvious reply. "Didn't you, Isabelle ?" He'd phrased that without irony, and offered a rare, gentle smile.
"No", she admitted instantly, to her never-ending sorrow.
"The bridge of a warship engaged on the bloodiest frontline of the sector isn't the most favourable place to appreciate shifts in geopolitics." His smile faded and his eyes lingered in hers. She couldn't tell if he expected a reply. She could never tell.
"Is this why you brought me back, Maréchal ?"
He had another long, thoughtful look at the screen before he replied.
"No. We have no say in this. Whatever Gallia does about this will be decided several tiers above us both, Isabelle. We will carry the word and deal with the consequences, as per usual... but this is not why I asked you to return to Paris. This was merely to bring you up to speed : we have more immediate concerns than territorial disputes in the Sigmas."

She knew better than that. She knew it was more than a mere territorial dispute. She knew that it carried heavy repercussions for Gallia, and that it would need to be addressed quickly and decisively. She knew that Macron didn't just want to "bring her up to speed" on this matter. But most of all, she knew best than to bring any of this up. Sensing no reply would come from her, the maréchal took hold of a pile of folders that he displayed, one by one, in front of Chanteloup. His desk was as large as it was elegant. Mahogany, or rosewood, perhaps ? Hers was birchwood, for some reason.

"Item one", he said. "Reaching out to other possible partners in Sirius. Clearly, we won't be able to win this one just by ourselves, despite our initial analysis. Our forces are stretched too thin, supplies take too long to arrive, and we're simply not gaining ground fast enough. The commissioning of Issoudun drydock should help... But current predictions aren't particularly in favour of a quick victory. And at this point, we can hardly afford anything else, especially considering..." He took another forlorn look at the Tokugawa. "Anyhow, this folder contains the names and whereabouts of several groups and associations that, according to our geopolitical analysts, could be of use to the Kingdom AND willing to hear us out and work with us. This is back channel business, which is why we're not sending diplomats on the case. Do whatever you must. These are mostly outlaws, fringe elements and renegades. I know what you think... But we're running out of options. I'm pleased with your work with the Core and the Cretans, but it can't stop there and with them."

Chanteloup nodded. This, she had seen coming. The inevitable opening to Sirius' pariahs, rejects and undesirables. All those who wouldn't stand against Gallia under Liberty's softened version of tyranny. "Fine. The MRG has had an influx of diplomacy-minded people recently, for some reason. I'll put them to some semblance of use."

"Item two", Macron went on. "Agent Silver of the Core. I know you've summoned her already, but you haven't been told why. This folder here will explain everything. You'll understand why it is imperative that we keep her around for the time being. As such, do whatever is necessary to keep the Core happy with our current arrangement. This may be one of the Kingdom's most important secrets, Isabelle."

Chanteloup nodded. She'd had her fair share of the "Kingdom's most important secrets" in the past. How bad could this one be ? "Very well, maréchal. What's next ?"

Macron smiled again. "You're not going to like this one. Eliza Valdez... De Loyola, apparently."
She winced. That had been one of her last cases in Internal security, before she was promoted to the MRG's chief of staff position. She had captured and interrogated two high value Maltese women, one of whom was made a citizen of the kingdom, the other blackmailed into spying for Gallia. Both had vanished without a trace, despite Royal Intelligence's best efforts. Not her best case.
"Enma Loyola is still missing, and not many here regret her. But Valdez has resurfaced. She's due for a few months' worth of reports... We're not sure where she is at this moment. Track her down, get her to tell you what she knows... Then put an end to our arrangement. By our informations, she's become some sort of wandering tramp and is not likely to be worth much trouble any more. Still, this case needs proper closure. Hear her out then finish this however you see fit."

Now that'd be some reunion. Chanteloup wasn't totally convinced she was looking forward to it, but as Jean-Paul... As the maréchal said, the Valdez/Loyola affair needed closure.

"Penultimate item, and this may surprise you : Ezrael Vertiga. The wandering billionaire... You've not met him personally, but commissaire général Saint-Yves has. He was the centrepiece of a very important joint operation carried out by the MRG and the Core... In the Sigmas. We need to know what he's up to. His flagship has been sighted at critical places, in critical moments all too often lately. Some of our people believe he's on some bigshot's payroll for intelligence and sabotage operations. There is no certitude, other than that he's never far from trouble. Whether it follows him or he follows it... See what you can find. Be discreet."

Chanteloup nodded, again. She was puzzled by this request, and had indeed only vaguely heard of Vertiga and his pack of depraved thugs. There was probably more to this request than what Macron had told him... But that was business as usual, and she'd need to worry about it later.

"And finally..." Macron went somber. It was a terrifying display, an added layer of darkness to austerity personified. Chanteloup froze. He pushed the remaining file towards her. "I need you to find a way to end this war. As I told you, we must precipitate its outcome. Everything is in place for our operations to be successfully carried out : the New London gate will soon be complete, Issoudun will keep our diamond spearhead up and running in our enemy's backyard and fresh allies may soon join our fight. But, again, if this fails to generate the expected results... We'll be out of options. This folder contains every last-resort solution conceived by our strategists at the doctrine research centre. THOSE solutions. All of them are game-enders, extreme and as unpleasant to imagine as to enact. But we've not come this far to fail, Isabelle. Charles demands his victory, and any notion of cost is becoming obsolete, fast. At this point, if our current operations prove insufficient... We'd rather make our enemy assume the bulk of that cost. Look into those solutions. Think on them. You have two weeks, then we'll need to make preparations for the ones you've chosen."

She read the folder's tag : a sobering, chilling "BRETONIA : FIN DE PARTIE".

She suddenly felt a heart-wrenching, soul-crushing longing for the Téméraire's command bridge. Ainsi je frappe.

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