Tenebris Renasci: A World of Magic and Gunpowder

After sitting at her desk quietly for a few long minutes, Béatrice finally broke her contemplated silence with a sigh. 

Lowering her hand, she reached down to open a compartment door within her desk, revealing a small cabinet filled with a bottle of wine, a bottle of spirituous liquor, and two wine glasses.

She first retrieved a wine glass, the neck of the glass sliding between her ring and middle finger as she gently scooped it out of the cabinet. 

Her movements were slow and gentle as she placed the glass on her desk, moving as if any sudden movement would shatter the wine glass.

After placing down the glass, she reached down into the cabinet for a second time reaching for the wine bottle. 

But as her fingers curled around the neck of the bottle, she paused briefly, her eyes narrowing momentarily before she reached further into the cabinet, past the wine, and toward the bottle of spirit. 

Béatrice's hand trembled slightly as she pulled the bottle of spirituous liquor out of the cabinet. 

The wine was too indulgent for a situation such as this, a comfort when the situation was anything but.

Béatrice placed the bottle of spirit down beside the wine glass, with the label facing her. It was a gift from her daughter Camilla, an aged spirit meant to celebrate the end of the war when she got back. 

But now, all it did was serve as a grim reminder of both her and Napoleon's grim fate. 

Firmly, Béatrice pressed her lips together, before moving to pop the cork. 

With the cork separated from the bottle, the smell of alcohol began wafting in the air. 

She then began to pour the liquor into the wine glass. 

As the amber liquid filled and swirled in the glass, Béatrice watched thoughtlessly for a moment, her yellow eyes flickering with a hollow glow. 

When the sparkling amber liquid found its way halfway up the glass walls of the one glass, Béatrice stopped pouring, placing the bottle back on the desk with a soft thud.

She then lifted the wine glass, raising it to her lips as she parted them. 

Béatrice took a long and slow sip, the liquor burning its way down her throat, grounding her in reality with a satisfying taste.

With a bit of liquor in her system, Béatrice could now turn her attention to the situation at hand. 

Alexander was missing, kidnapped by a shadowy organization calling themselves the Clamori. 

There were no current leads as to who would benefit from this, or as to how it could have happened in the first place. 

The lead suspect was shot and killed in broad daylight, with the murderer escaping without a trace.

Béatrice took another sip as she leaned back in her seat, tapping her index finger against the head of the wine glass.

Starting with Alexander's kidnapping, happened during the meeting with the arranged "kidnappers" who were pathfinders in disguise.

They would have been used to test Alexander's ability to deal with unknown and dangerous circumstances. 

However, they were replaced at some point, most likely by members of the Clamori. 

Béatrice frowned, as that meant somehow news of Alexander's fake kidnapping spread to the Clamori. 

But how?

It was a test that only Béatrice and a few trusted pathfinders knew about, as she had come up with it spontaneously. 

No one on the outside should have known, not unless there was a mole in her ranks…

"Hmm," Béatrice began to swirl her wine glass as she crossed her legs.

It was possible and would explain how fast the Clamori were able to move in kidnapping Alexander. 

But the next problem comes into play, who would stand to gain from Alexander's legitimate kidnapping?

He was a fallen noble from a house lost in the war against the Western empire, he had no money, power, or fame tied to his name.

Just a boy who made friends with her daughter Louise. 

He was no one, so who…

Béatrice paused briefly as she thought back to her time with Alexander. 

As she replayed the memories of her short time with the boy, she remembered seeing how intrigued Charlotte was by him. 

Béatrice narrowed her eyes.

It was Queen Charlotte who wanted Béatrice to train Alexander in the first place, she was the entire reason for Béatrice to arrange Alexander's fake abduction..

Béatrice's eyes widened with realization as she slowly began to rise in her seat.

Could it be? 

Was it truly Queen Charlotte who organized Alexander's abduction? 

Surely not, but… who else could benefit from kidnapping a fallen noble? 

Who else with the resources to Infiltrate the great house Nova with spies, even amongst Béatrice's most trusted officers?

The more Béatrice thought about it, the more sense it began to make, the pieces falling into place one after the other. 

Charlotte is poised to gain greatly from this predicament as well, as not only does she get a read on Alexander's capabilities if he survives captivity, but if he doesn't, House Nova takes the blame for his death.

Béatrice set her glass down with a gentle clink against the desk. Her expression was now hardened, as the reality of her situation began to set in.

She knew that Charlotte was never one for simplistic games. 

If the world was a chessboard then Charlotte was a grandmaster, with moves and counters so advanced that by the time you realized what happened, she already had you in check. 

Béatrice clenched her jaw as she tapped her finger against her desk. The weight of her realization was almost suffocating. In a haste to find Alexander, she had fallen right into Charlotte's trap.

How so?

Because it was Béatrice's pathfinders scattered across the demon continent looking for Alexander, it was her pathfinders who allowed for the death of a man in broad daylight, and it was her pathfinders who allowed Alexander's abduction in the first place.

"Fuck." Béatrice hissed under her breath as she tightly gripped her hands into balled fists.