July 27th – August 09th, 1799

Francis already knew, going into the prison of Varennes, that most of its prisoners were forced to work for the city. Be it on the local wheat plantations, on the harbor, or building new houses, the convicts were always put on duty, despite the rain, despite the snow, despite the sun.

The commander did not know what he would be obligated to do once he arrived, but he knew that resting all day long, whilst locked up inside a humid and dark cell would not be an option.

Was that for the better or for the worse, though? He couldn't say.

But, once he found out what his destination would be, he sighed in relief, and recognized he'd gotten lucky.

Because of his clean records and his brilliant career as a soldier, he was trusted by the guards, and sent to a place in which he knew his old skills as a gardener would come in handy; urban construction.

Him and about fifty other men were dragged like cattle to the outskirts of the city, still dressed in their dirty clothes, and given shovels, hammers and saws. Their mission? To build a hundred shacks for the republican families left homeless by the war. And for thirteen days, his routine was oriented towards this goal.

He'd wake up early. Travel to the empty fields surrounding Varennes. Dig up the earth and flatten the soil in which the homes would be built. Then, he'd help his peers assemble the main frame. Would raise pillars, nail together walls, cut pieces of wood, install the roof, the windows and the doors. Then, at the end of the day, they would all be sent back to the prison, allowed to eat their dinner —their only meal in hours— and sleep through the night, just so they could repeat it all over again once they opened their eyes.

It was an exhausting schedule, for sure, but Francis knew he could have it worse. He still was alive and breathing; many men accused of tyranny and abuse of power in Lievre were being guillotined before a trial was even held. At least, as a prisoner in Varennes, he was safe.

That doesn't mean he was happy to be a convict, though.

And once he heard Laupin's angry voice echo in the distance, he couldn't help but feel extremely relieved that his time as a government slave was over.

—I had to come straight from the battlefield to fetch this poor man! I was in Rousille when I got the news of his arrest! I had barely any time to breathe before I was told that your commissioner took my commander as a prisoner of the state!...

—But monsieur, he's been accused of...

—His charges have been dropped! The Directory recognized their mistake! Look! I brought you the letter that Robert Arcis, the new head of the Directory, wrote to me explaining the situation! Three representatives, that deeply disliked major general Obermann, orchestrated a complot against him and his staff! And that includes commander Forestier!

Francis stopped moving the hammer he was holding, and looked down from the roof of the shack he was working on now. On the ground below, Laupin was standing toe to toe with the gaoler —the man in charge of the local national guard's commissioners and the prison wardens—, and was chewing his ear off with the onslaught of new information.

—Let me see that... —the gaoler grabbed the letter general was holding, and read it, with a bit of difficulty.

As he began to realize Laupin was telling him the truth, his annoyance started to decrease, and his fear, to rise.

He'd indeed jailed an innocent man, it seemed. And Camille, losing what was left of his patience —something that Francis rarely witnessed happen— grabbed the paper, and pointed energetically towards the shack.

—Now would you please get my commander off of that goddamn roof?!

The gaoler anxiously nodded, blinked a couple of times, and looked at Francis.

—You! Get down here!

—It's commander, use his rank while talking to him! —Laupin spoke louder than the man, and shook his head in anger, before approaching the wooden frame of the house.

Francis, at the same time, gave his hammer away to one of his peers and ran to the nearest stairwell, which he climbed down in a hurry. The general steadied him as he reached the ground, and promptly pulled him into a tight hug.

—I'm so happy to see you alive —Laupin patted his back, then released him.

—So am I... and relieved too. More than you could ever imagine. But, how did you find me? Did general Santerre write to you?

—Yes. Louis and Charlie contacted me nearly at the same time as the Directory did... and once I learned about what happened, I had to come here. Not only because this is unfair, but because you need to go home —Laupin said, and put a protective hand over Francis' shoulders as they began to walk away from the shack—. You will not believe the things that have happened in the capital while you were away...

—Well, please enlighten me.

—Let's get to our carriage first, then I'll tell you everything —and this, they did. After passing by the terrified gaoler, the guards, and the other stunned prisoners, Camille helped Francis climb onto the vehicle, sat down on his own seat, grabbed the reins, the whip, and began to drive away—. Now that we're alone and on the move, I can speak... The members of the National Convention voted to guillotine five of their representatives and one member of the Directory, for the senseless murders that happened in the Gwalarn Campaign. Obermann proved to the Convention, through the thousands of letters he exchanged with the Directory during all of this time, that he was only following orders from his superiors, nothing more. He did not kill innocent people because he wanted to. He was instructed to do so. And, therefore, all of his officers, including us, were declared innocent of the same crimes attributed to him... That's the only reason why all of our heads aren't resting on a silver platter right now. He saved us.

—That makes sense... Obermann was keeping track of all the orders given by the Directory. He had a list of names of the representatives that passed legislation to ensure the scorched earth policy became a standard in the army.

—Did you read it? The list?

—Once. And I think I remember a few names —Francis replied.

—Were representatives Rhone, Mirat, Charamaule, Guizot and Bruys on it?

—I remember Guizot and Rhone... The other ones I do not recognize. But they might have been on it. I don't know for certain.

—I personally think they were —Laupin said—. And I also think that Obermann has accidentally started a chain reaction that will very soon compromise the peace in the Convention, and in our country.

—Why are you saying that?

—Because I believe that more representatives will soon be guillotined as well. And then the horrors that marked the beginning of our revolution will repeat themselves... and the republic may fall.

—Well... I personally don't think the republic will fall because five representatives were killed.

—Bruys was the head of the Arbre —Laupin mentioned one of the biggest political and philosophical groups that helped promote the fall of their old King—. With him dead, representative Alençon, the chief of the Réfractaires, is the next in line to be murdered. And what will happen once all of the members of the left and of the center are killed? The right will ascend into power. And who are representatives of the political right?

—The bourgeoisie...

—And?

—Members of the old nobility that swore loyalty to the republic?

—Indeed. And do you think that, if they get a hold of all of this power, they will content themselves with having the whole republic under their control? Or do you think they will try to dismantle it and restore the old monarchy, so they can win back all of their lost glory and riches?

Francis, connecting the dots at last, began to understand Laupin's inner panic.

—The people won't allow that to happen.

—They will, if the Convention continues to put their foot in their mouth, and to take decisions without thinking of the consequences first. Which is why I'm considering leaving the army to become a representative in the Convention myself.

—Are you insane? —the commander asked immediately, as his anxiety skyrocketed—. Or are you just done with life and wish to die?

—I don't wish to die. I wish to make a change. I wish to protect our republic.

—Camille, what do you think will happen to you if you join the world of politics? You'll become a threat to the right wing, because of your closeness to general Arquette and major general Obermann! They'll hang you! Or worse, your neck will be set under the guillotine next!...

—I don't care about that. I could die in the battlefield at any time.

—But...

—The left is doing a horrible job at keeping this country together. The right is just waiting for the left to fall so they can bring back the monarchy. And the center... what even are they? They don't do anything at all! And I won't stand to the side, with my arms crossed, as they burn everything I've fought for to the ground!

Francis shook his head. Massaged his face. Sighed. Spent a few minutes in silence, digesting the news with clear difficulty.

—At least you'll be closer to your wife and daughter if you work in Lievre —he mumbled, as he stared off into the horizon.

Laupin, noticing how hard his confession had hit the commander, steered the carriage with a single hand, and used his free one to pat his back.

—Just because I want to leave the army, it doesn't mean I'm leaving your life. You're still my daughter's godfather. You're still my soul brother. You're part of our family, Francis. You and your wife.

The commander spun his head around in a blink.

—Wife?

—Laura told me about the little ceremony you had at the church —Laupin smiled—. I'm happy for you. You deserve to live a good and healthy life together.

—She's still legally married to the Duke, though. So no one, but us, can know about our relationship.

—I am aware of that —the general nodded—. But in my house, and under my wing, you can be the married couple you are with no restrictions.

Francis, feeling moved by his words, bit his lower lip and looked away again. A few minutes passed, and then he said:

—I wish you good luck in the Convention. And I hope... I hope you know what you're doing.

—I do —Laupin replied—. But thank you.

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