Battleship Valenciennes, Hangar Bay
"Number twelve..." Céline Valcourt mumbled to herself while walking around in the hangar bay, searching for the Lynx she was given. That search, however, took more time than expected, as the young woman still was not familiar with the placement of the hangar bays.
"Number twelve...that should be it", she said and stopped in front of a Lynx, a mechanic was standing on a ladder, obviously working on the ship. Céline observed the Lynx for a while, she was not overly impressed by its appearance. "Hmmmm...didn't expect something like that", she said and realized shortly afterwards that the mechanic had stopped with his work and looked at her. "You must be Madame Valcourt, oui?" he asked and got down from the ladder.
"Oui, that's me. I just came here to take a look at my new ship. I hope everything is alright with it, oui?", she said and continued to observe the vessel. "It had a bit of a rough time last week and had to undergo some repairs. But all in all it's good enough for combat. New pilots generally get used Lynxes, I'm sure you'll get a better one once you've ranked up", he replied to Céline. "Anyway, I'll report to my superiors and get the necessary things sorted out, you should be able to take her out for a spin in a day or two."
"Alright. Uhm...before you leave, could you tell me where I can find Madame LeBlanc's office?" Céline asked him. Even though he seemed a bit confused about that, he told her the way before vanishing in a hallway himself. It sure must have been strange to hear that a new pilot, who did not even have a rank yet, was interested in meeting Lucie LeBlanc, a person who was not known for caring about pilots like Céline.
"Don't you dare to disappoint me", Céline said to her ship before walking off herself. On the way to the office, Céline began to think about certain things from the past and her upcoming tasks.
"Mother. I know that I've betrayed you and you had countless reasons to execute me. But you did not. You gave me a second chance, but you've never managed to forgive me. And what about me? You are just one of many people who ruined my life...and I've forgiven all of them...and that includes you. Only now did I realize how much of a mistake it was. I'm no longer your tool and you'll pay for treating me like one. That, I will promise you, mother."
After a walk of five minutes, she finally reached the office with the sign ‘Grand Maréchal Lucie LeBlanc, Duchess of Maine‘. “Hmmmm”, Céline hummed “let’s see if Madame LeBlanc is exactly like I expect her to be”, she thought to herself before knocking on the door and waited for a response.
As one of the most cutting-edge, technologically advanced warships in human history - a proud vessel of the venerable Valor class - the Valenciennes was quite a sight. Silhouetted against the dusky, russet clouds of Leeds, the kilometre-long battleship seemed to dominate its surroundings, dwarfing the Lynx and Cougar patrols that were drifting lazily by, dutifully sweeping through their patrol courses for the day.
The warship's interior was, in many ways, as impressive as the exterior. Though not quite as breathtaking a sight, everything about the design - from the metal, grill-like design of the flooring to the thick, imposing bulkheads that stood ready to partition the ship in times of emergency - spoke of a ship designed for battle.
Accordingly, the Grand Maréchal's office had been strategically situated deep within the ship's interior, buried several decks deep in every direction. In the event of a surprise attack from outside, be it conventional or a boarding manoeuver, attackers would either have a lot of armour to penetrate or corridors to breach before reaching this area of the ship.
The room's sole occupant showed little concern at these measures, though. In fact, Lucie rarely used the Valenciennes' office more than was absolutely necessary these days. Since the departure of the previous Grand Maréchal - a certain Ansel Xavier - and her subsequent assumption of the same position, she had had little time for lounging around. For almost all practical purposes, the warship's bridge was the best place for her to be - but even leaders of the King's Royal Navy needed a break sometimes.
And so, rather than 'motivating' the crew with her presence on the bridge, Lucie was seated at her desk, poring over documents on a data-slate while fumigating the room with cigar smoke. The ashtray already bore the remnants of two cigars, yet she showed no sign of stopping.
A knock on the door, though, interrupted her reverie with irritating ease. She glanced at the wall-mounted clock, frowning at it. Valcourt was right on time, which was mildly annoying in and of itself. Lucie would have loved something to complain about, but it seemed she'd have to find something else to nitpick.
"Entrez!" she barked, sliding the datapad across the desk and out of the way. Briefly, she wondered - for the umpteenth time - what exactly was so special about Delacroix's replacement. Quétineau had insisted on it, and, at the time, Lucie hadn't given the issue much more than a brief rubber-stamp of approval - something she was now regretting, as suspicions as to the ex-Grande Maréchale's motives were only now coming to the fore. The more she had thought about it, the more unusual the whole situation had seemed.
Nevertheless, she sat forwards in her chair, awaiting Celine's entrance with veiled interest. Perhaps the girl herself would shed some light on the whole matter, though just how clear things would become remained to be seen. Whatever the case, she was certain that there was more to the whole affair than met the eye.
Céline waited for a few more second before entering. The next moments would be crucial for her, as they would have a major impact on her future life. She had enough time to think about this meeting, even though she did not really know a lot about the person she was about to meet. All she knew was that LeBlanc was a bit like Quétineau. A power-hungry person that does not really care about the well-being of other people. Céline was no stranger to people like that, Quétineau was one of them...one of many.
One would probably be extremely nervous when entering this office alone, it was LeBlanc’s office after all. And that person had a certain reputation, which would make people think twice if they really wanted to talk to her. Céline was different in that regard, the people in charge of her “training” made sure to remove unwanted feelings such as fear. She had been trained well enough to suppress these feelings. Some would say that this has also removed some parts of her humanity.
Once she got a bit closer to LeBlanc, she bowed to her “Bonjour Lady LeBlanc, Duchess of Maine, my name is Céline Valcourt. I’ve been sent by the lady Quétineau to introduce myself. It’s an honour to meet you in person.” Céline said. That introduction was a bit strange. A normal soldier would have simply saluted. This on the other hand looked more like it was a meeting between servant and master.
"I know who you are, Valcourt," came LeBlanc's reply, after a brief pause. Céline's odd introduction had caught her off guard, though she didn't show it. Evidently, her suspicions had been correct. Even from this early stage, it was clear to her that something was not quite right about the girl.
"Or, at the very least, I know your name," she continued, fixing Céline with a searching glare. "Your name, and the fact that Quétineau recommended you specifically as a replacement for mademoiselle Delacroix, who has so recently and unfortunately left us." Sarcasm, as usual, seemed to be etched into her tone, as if it were an integral part of her speech. "Naturally, I agreed with Quétineau's assessment that an undermanned squadron would be a hindrance on many levels. Exceptions to the rule are always a pain."
Lucie paused briefly, taking a drag from her cigar. "Beyond that, Quétineau seems to have done a very poor job as to explaining exactly why you, in particular, are so suitable as replacement pilot for Delacroix's squadron." The question was left implicit, phrased more like a statement than anything, but it was clear that LeBlanc expected an answer. She sat back in her chair as she finished, looking at Céline with an unreadable expression.
“I was expecting that you would have doubts or questions about her actions. I’ll try to explain it, however, not even I managed to fully understand my mo...ehhhh...the lady Quétineau. Not even after serving under her command for several years.” Céline said and was getting a bit mad at herself for calling Quétineau her ‘mother’ in front of LeBlanc. Overcomplicating things was not in Céline’s interest, as it would not be helpful in this particular situation.
“The former Grand Maréchal, and now Duchess of Picardy, has changed dramatically during the past year. One could say that the power she gained corrupted her mind, turning her into an arrogant woman that treats everyone around her as either tools or obstacles. The latter gets removed as quickly as possible, while the former, usually the people under her command, are used to carry out her will.”
“When the young lady Delacroix decided to leave the Navy, the Duchess felt responsible for that. She believed that the ties between house Quétineau, the Navy and house LeBlanc have been severely damaged. Therefore, she wishes to repair that damage by sending a gift to you, lady LeBlanc.”
“To her, I’m both a tool and an obstacle. The lady Quétineau wants to exploit this particular tool as long as she possibly can in order to strengthen her own position.”
She was telling all these things without any hint of emotions, a simple tool that was programmed to do exactly what her mistress told her to do, which was a common thing amongst the ‘tools’ that serve under Quétineau...except for Céline. She could change allegiance whenever she deemed it necessary,
"I see," came the Grande Maréchale's reply, after a considered pause. "Perhaps she still feels she can hold some position of power even after her departure." LeBlanc seemed briefly thoughtful, her steely blue eyes calculating. "Regardless, it seems her judgement is not entirely accurate. The only inconvenience caused by Delacroix's resignation was that of a fighter squadron being one short of a full complement. But all this talk of 'damaged ties'?" She scoffed derisively, looking entirely incredulous. "I had hardly realised there were any ties to begin with. I care very little for whatever it is Quétineau seems to find so important, and whatever damage she wished to repair never existed in the first place, bar the previously mentioned inconvenience."
Lucie waved her cigar descriptively, flicking her gaze back to Céline in an instant. "I'm not sure how you think Quétineau can 'exploit' you while you're here, Valcourt, but I won't tolerate anything unorthodox coming from her, least of all if it has any impact on your performance while serving under my command. Delacroix held herself to high standards, and I expect the same from you, her replacement."
“I’ll be honest, Lady LeBlanc.” Céline said, thinking it was the right moment to tell the Grand Maréchal her own opinion about this situation.“It is almost certain that the lady Quétineau will interfere, as I am bound to her by a vow. In other words, I have to follow her orders.” She stopped after that sentence and seemed a bit frustrated. “I killed countless people in her name, innocent citizens of our kingdom, women and children…she truly is a tyrant that devours her own people whenever she wants to.”
“She thinks that I’m loyal to her, even though she’s treating me like an animal. I am sick and tired of this.” Céline said angrily. “Lady LeBlanc. This might be an odd request...but I beg you to free me from this devil. Let me become your servant so that this tyrant no longer has any control over me.”
Céline then bowed again. “Please consider my request, Lady LeBlanc. I beg you.”
"I don't think you quite understand me, Capitaine Valcourt," came Lucie's reply, so quickly that it almost cut Céline off. The cigar suddenly seemed more like a baton, Lucie pointing it at Céline imperiously. "Quétineau is not here. Valérie Quétineau is not here. Not on my ship, not in this squadron, not within even three or four days worth of space travel. I don't care what you fear from her, Valcourt, because it is utterly irrelevant. Our beloved ex-Grande Maréchale is no longer in any position to dictate anything aboard this ship - aboard any of my ships."
Lucie paused for emphasis, taking another long, slow drag from her cigar.
"You say she's 'sent' you to me, isn't that so?" A note of something crept into her voice as she continued, though it was anyone's guess as to whether it betrayed contempt, or the merest tinge of pity. "Packaged you up, like some sort of parcel. Something to curry favour with; nothing more."
She leaned forwards in her seat, fixing her gaze firmly on the still-bowed captain.
"Perhaps nobody has appraised you of what we do here, Capitaine, but I am not in the habit of leading an army of slaves. We are the best Gallia has to offer, the First Fleet of the Gallic Royal Navy. There is no place here for mewling, timid individuals." Her tone could have cut glass, yet Lucie's fury was directed at something beyond the slight girl before her.
"Quétineau will not interfere," she declared, once again wielding her cigar like a conductor's baton. "You are under my command now, indentured in service to the Royal Navy - and to me. As long as you serve under Gallia's banner, there is no higher authority than me bar His Majesty himself. Is that clear?" Her glare was piercing, her frustration evident. Quétineau had done nothing for Gallia, nothing at all - it was herself and Xavier who had picked up the pieces Quétineau and her predecessor had left in their wake. It was they who had set the Royal Navy on the path to greatness once again. The thought of the ex-Grande Maréchale's influence creeping back into the Navy once again disgusted her, and it was only now that Lucie realised she should not have let it show so clearly.
"You have nothing to worry about, so long as you carry out the duties ahead of you." she added belatedly, recovering her composure with remarkable speed. A brief puff on the cigar, and once more Lucie LeBlanc could have been carved from stone. "Of that, you can be certain."
“The fact that you too feel resentment towards Lady Quétineau will make it easier for me to serve you”, Céline replied and felt sort of relieved. “However, it is not possible for me to believe everything you have just told me. She -will- find a way, I am certain of that. But given that she would be against the Grand Maréchal, it is likely that she will need some time in order to plan her actions properly. It would not be in her interest to endanger her own position.”
She thought for a moment. There was something she had to tell LeBlanc, even though it could easily cause severe problems for Céline. “Moreover, I must apologize for what I’m about to say. I have never served the King...and that will not change in the future. I only serve one master. It used to be Lady Quétineau. Now it will be you, Lady LeBlanc.”
There was a very long, very silent pause, as Lucie considered what the young capitaine had just told her. Renouncing service to the King was not what she would have called a wise move - least of all here - but, then again, Lucie herself held a similar viewpoint. Not that she would ever tell anyone, of course. Gallia was more important than the man atop the throne. Still, she suspected the meaning behind Céline's words might run a little less patriotically.
"I see," she eventually replied, staring at Céline over the top of her cigar. "Duly noted, Valcourt."
Lucie tapped her cigar thoughtfully against her ashtray, glancing away as small fragments of tobacco fell inside.
"I am not in the habit of being planned against - at least, not successfully. I knew Valérie for only a brief period of time, but it was time enough to know enough. So to speak, anyway. She will find it difficult to put anything past me."
Again, she levelled the cigar at Céline, almost accusingly.
"I stand by what I told you, Valcourt. I do not lie. However 'certain' you are, I can assure you that I am twice as assured. Valérie Quétineau cannot influence anyone aboard this ship, aboard any ship in this fleet. Not unless you let her - and I would consider that unwise."