Francis felt a storm brewing inside his head. It had all been so simple when we had taken his first step in the First Province. Now, countless steps later, the tracks ran back and forth erratically. No matter how he tried, he could not trace his way back the tracks to the Francis he was before. That part of him was somewhere far behind, and if the tried going back he'd only get lost worse.The Tower, part I
For he was lost. If there was anything he was sure of, it was that he was hopelessly lost somewhere he'd never been before. No, not hopelessly, he corrected himself in his head. There was still the way ahead. He had been led to a crossroads of many diverting paths, and he had taken a tremendous step, clearly marking one of the paths as his own. This path was perilous and could very well lead to his demise, but he smiled as he comforted himself by thinking of what awaited him if he made it to the end of it. And though he was still feeling around in the dark, at least he knew what he was looking for.
The Tower. He had heard of it from so many sources, yet always so little that he still wasn't sure what it was all about. They hated the Foundry, and for that it was hard to blame them. On the other hand, they were extremists, and though they seemed to have similar goals as Francis did, his methods were better. It didn't matter much in the end. He did know enough: the Tower was an enemy of the Venerated Republic of Decus. Giving one final glance to the Foundry keep he had just left over his shoulder, the cadet focused on his task and recalled the names he'd been given.
Alphonse Camora.
Clement Durai.
Selene Durai.
Francis knew he wasn't alone as he touched the faded tattoo of a flame on his chest.
Decus would be there to guide him.
- - -
In a way Francis wanted to tell the templar. She was one of the few people that Francis admired and who surely were on his side. A fellow patriot, so to say, having come to the First Province not to grow rich on the suffering of others but to help the people and the Venerated Republic back on its feet. She was an ally he would need to rely on later. But as they stood there looking in the dark east and Francis listened to her speak, his mind became clearer and clearer. Her mind had been troubled enough, and even though she offered to share his burden, the burden wasn's hers.
Francis turned around and walked away. She was probably confused, but even the cryptic words they spoke had helped him. It gave him reassurance and made him realize that what he had been looking for was not someone to share his mission with, but rather someone who would help Francis to reflect on himself. It had helped. Previously the flame within him had flickered. Now there was a burning zeal.
- - -
The first trek to Riverside proved fruitless. As Francis stood there, his eyes blankly regarding the ruins, his thoughts were interrupted by the sound of someone approaching. It was the Chapter aspirant. Francis smiled and welcomed the company. Perhaps it was time to return to Fort Praesidium, at least for now.
Francis stopped by the doorway to breathe in the air, to taste and smell it. For anyone else, the chapel in the Fort vibrated with serenity. As he watched Mogrand quietly pray, he felt there was another sensation, hidden beneath the surface. It was calling out to him.
He let his eyes linger on each of the tapestries in turn, looking for the source. Honor, humility, justice, sacrifice, spirituality, honesty, valor, compassion. After Mogrand left, Francis found himself in front of a particular tapestry. The sensation had dawned upon him. It was a cry out for justice.
He smiled and spoke the name softly, almost tasting it in his mouth. Salt and iron.
Justice.
- - -
The constable's stare felt piercing and even a little doubting as he handed Francis the ledger with the operation details. Operation Lighthouse, Francis, recited in his head as he read it through, and couldn't help but smile with pride until his eyes set on the new information. The doctor, Alexander Deval, was one of the suspects. Francis turned to the constable for a confirmation just in case.
The doctor had felt like a good man. Now he was one of the suspected traitors, consort to terrorism and murder. Francis dreaded to think of the possibility. Looking at the constable's wily features, he wasn't always sure if what he had gotten himself into was purely a matter of the Venerated Republic or if the Foundry or its high-ranking members had their personal interests involved.
The constable noticed his doubt.
”Having second thoughts?”, he asked.
Francis closed the ledger and pushed it along the constable towards the constable.
”I said I'll do it”, he replied as their eyes met.
Those people need justice, he added quietly in his mind, thinking back to the chapel.
Francis wasn't sure if he had consolidated the constable, but they were interrupted by the drill instructor. The ledger was quickly tucked out of sight and Glass informed Ward of what he and Francis had discussed a few moments earlier: Francis would be posted in the Legion and Chapter camp in Tenebra to maintain the safety of all Foundry personnel while the wall was being built around the camp.
It was just an excuse to make Francis's presence near Riverside less dubious. Ward finally bought it, but added a condition of his own. Tyndarus would be coming along.
Shit.
Francis looked to Glass, hoping to hear a word of protest, but he didn't. He remained calm on the outside as he turned his eyes away from both men. Having Ty sneaking around wouldn't make the mission any easier.
He felt his suspicions confirmed when he sat with Tyndarus in the Tankard a while later, waiting for official orders from the drill instructor.
Ty was a shifty and undisciplined individual. Someone you'd expect to sit in the far corner speaking in a low voice of unlawful business. And he certainly didn't seem like the well-being of the Republic or other people were topics that often surfaced in his mind. Francis found himself wondering why Ty had even joined the gendarmerie. But still, even men like Ty could be useful under the right command, though Foundry probably couldn't cater to any of that. Francis had promised to keep Ty alive, but he was loath to put that priority in the background. This whole operation was just covering for Operation Lighthouse. He'd try to locate the Tower, and meanwhile Ty had better to try and stay alive.
Francis leaned back and forced himself to smile. At least he had the advantage here. He had worked hard to make most people think he was a simple-minded pawn. It seemed to work especially well on Ty, who seldom even took him seriously. He was the kind of person that played his cards too early and still liked to think he held them for an admirable time.
Keep it that way, Ty. Act like you're smarter. Make quippy remarks. Don't suspect a thing.
If the Foundry officers were worth their salt, they saw how Ty was as well and knew how to keep him in check. Francis was more worried of if they'd be morally inclined to do so. Francis was going to stay in the Foundry for only as long as he felt he could benefit the Republic there. Many recent events had made him doubt if he had made the right decision, and his mind kept wandering towards the kind people of the Chapter...
His chain of thought was interrupted when Ward walked in.
- - -
The basement was dimly lit and ominous. There were imposing devices of torture, a few bloodstains and two men. Francis sat on a crate right next to the biggest puddle of blood, trying to ignore the smell of death, while Clement Durai sat on a stool opposite to him.
Clement and Francis had much in common. They were both born in Ghaenthgrand, Clement in the Mist Valley and Francis by the Goodsea. Both were idealists. They had lost much and fear of losing even more had eventually driven both to action and brought them to the First Province. What set them apart was that Clement was part of the Tower and Francis merely pretended to be.
In a way Clement was like a dark reflection of Francis, a man who was ready to sacrifice himself and others to one day see the Venerated Republic of Decus rise strong again. In a way the leader of the Tower was also more honest and straightforward. He took no qualms in saying what had to be done and doing so given the chance, while here Francis was, making friends with people he would later have to betray. Francis's swollen ankle ached, but the pain was drowned by the maelstrom of emotions hidden behind his stoic face.
The Tower had been so much bigger than Francis had expected. There were some people who seemed to be in just for themselves, but Clement and most others seemed like they genuinely had good intentions.
Can I say the same about Glass or the other Foundry officers? Are they in for the Republic or for themselves?
Francis thought he knew the answer, and it just made his conscience worse. He forced himself to focus. The Foundry didn't kill innocents. They were driven by selfishness but they realized that the Republic was necessary for their survival. And in a way this cold, calculatedd greed kept them from descending into blind fanaticism. Or was he just trying to reassure himself, forcibly trying to give his mission legitimacy?
When the conversation was over and Francis limped back to the camp, his mind was still hazy. There was one thing he recalled well, though. Request from Clement as they parted ways.
”If you betray us, give me the courtesy of forewarning. I have people I need to protect, innocent people.”
Francis knew he couldn't do that. When it was time for the Tower to collapse, no brick would be left standing. He sighed upon seeing the Legion tents ahead.
If he was on the right side, why did it feel so damn wrong?
- - -
It all felt better in the morning. He had went through the recent events over and over again in his head and slept only a few hours. He was tired, but there was a sense of order in his mind now. The vision Clement had, the Republic standing strong without any of the quarreling factions – it'd never come to pass. Even if they managed to wipe the factions out, they couldn't stop the resulting anarchy. They weren't strong enough to take the lead. Francis had infiltrated them, didn't that already prove they weren't incorruptible?
They claimed Decus had returned as a mortal. And he wasn't in the First Province. They had nothing to show for their legitimacy, even if Francis had believed them. They wanted to take out all the current structures and organizations of order, to be reborn stronger from the ruins.
We've seen enough ruin. My way is better.
Deep down, he felt the members of the Tower knew it would end badly for them. Their cause wasn't doomed, it would live on even stronger in Francis. He and the Tower were fighting towards the same goal, using different methods. They wanted to blindly destroy all they considered unjust, whereas Francis understood the concept of necessary evil. Some people would hate Francis for turning in people they considered friends, but he was ready to take that blow. If he wasn't ready to make personal sacrifices for the greater good, why bother at all?
Even you would forgive me if you understood how similar we are, Clement. As a fellow patriot you would embrace the chance to die for what you believe in.
He sought out the constable and told him everything.
- - -
The later hours of the afternoon were quietly passing by as Francis found himself brooding in his tent. The wall had been built, the Foundry was ordered back to Fort Praesidium. He would have to pack his things soon, though there was still much to do.
He sighed quietly and looked outside into the sunlight. He would have to do at least two things before leaving, no matter how suspicious it looked. They were necessary.
The first one was his contingency plan. It wasn't something that would save Francis, but at the very least he could get revenge, no, justice from beyond the grave if he wouldn't make it. He could do that here if he found the right people. And as it happened, there was but one person Francis knew he could trust, and she was in the camp.
The second was meeting with the Tower. He needed to inform them what was going on, lure them closer to the Fort. Perhaps even offer them a chance to strike at the Foundry, only to lead them into a trap.
His mind was resolute as he set his loving eyes at the pebble he'd taken from the Goodsea before leaving. No time to waste, only to gather proof, learn of others members. Perhaps even of the terrorist mastermind somewhere in the west, pulling strings that moved pawns in the First Province.
Selene Durai was now a confirmed member. He needed to find out about Alphonse Camora, find a way to get Clement to tell him.
I'd betray you a hundred times over if it helped the Republic.
- - -
Ten days was what Anvil had said. By ten days, Francis would have found out about Alphonse, lured the Tower into a trap, arrested them with the Foundry and withdrawn the contingency plan. Funnily enough, the only part of it he suspected might go differently was arresting the Tower. Francis had no proof. With no proof, could they arrest the Tower? Would Glass arrange a different, swift justice without any trials? It wasn't beyond him, nor the Foundry.
Nor Francis.
He walked out of the newly-built gates and set his eyes south, towards Riverside.
- - -
The next evening, Francis found himself sitting in the Rusty Tankard, idly staring into the fireplace. The scent of Erinne was still present. He wanted to blame Clement for speaking of the Tower in Erinne's presence, but the fault was his alone. He was the infiltrator. He was supposed to keep innocents oblivious to it all. And now the Consortium might've known.
Francis stood up and pondered on his options. Erinne wouldn't tell, she cared for him. Or so he hoped. In the case she did, he'd stand no chance against Mace. Glass had to be informed. Glass would know what to do. And hopefully, Glass wouldn't want to hurt Erinne for her knowledge. The door shook in its hinges as the cadet stormed out into the rain.
Dammit Erinne, why you of all people?
Glass, though displeased, understood.
”Women and work do not fit together, cadet. I will talk to Mace. I'll tell him not to murder you if Erinne speaks up.”
An hour later Mace was informed. At this point it began to feel like a good move. The battlemage could keep Erinne in check, and they now had a powerful Consortium member on their side against the Tower. Francis would only have to find Clement again, lure him into a trap.
- - -
The warm light of the torch lit Francis's path as he patrolled the road just outside Fort Praesidium. The air was thick and brooding. It smelled of burned flesh and decay. And Francis was getting restless. Time was wasting. Every passing moment should have been used to tighten the noose around the Tower's neck but he would ideally need to find Clement first.
He could return to Riverside. That would be suspicious. To make the Tower want him, they would need to think he wasn't suspected within the Foundry.
A sudden noise in the darkness just off the road brought Francis's mind to the present. He turned his torch towards it and approached with caution. It was Roseline. Roseline of the Foundry, Roseline of the Tower. After a moment of cautious looks, Francis made up his mind. She would know how to find Clement. She was a sweet girl. Deluded and guilty just like the rest, but innocent in her own way. Francis softened his voice and greeted her. What came out of his mouth were mostly lies, but there was enough truth behind them to make it seem believable.
To an outsider it would've looked easy enough. Inside Francis's head it was a mess of shame and disdain, but the flame of justice burned brighter than his conscience, consuming the other entirely. He was getting there.
Francis and Clement were whispering treasons in Roseline's wagon before the sun had properly gotten up. He told Clement what he wanted to hear, promised to do what needed to be done. All in the name of the Venerated Republic of Decus.
”I have no desire to hurt anyone. There's few enough of us left as it is”, Clement said. He had no intentions to hurt anyone. He suggested no acts of murder or sabotage.
”I won't disappoint”, Francis promised. What was replied should've felt like a victory, but it gave Francis little joy. It ringed in his mind, echoing hollowly from the bleak walls sheltering his mind.
”I believe you.”
Deceiving the desperate and the well-intended was surprisingly easy. Clement was a caring man, naturally inclined to see the best in people. It was a vulnerability Francis would exploit until there was nothing left.
Neither Roseline nor Clement were wicked. They genuinely wanted to help others survive in this cruel world. They were prepared to sacrifice everything for the good they believed in.
Of course, none of this mattered when you were guilty.
- - -
Balor put his shirt back on and hid his flaming red chest and swollen belly. The provost was elsewhere, his assistant unable to offer but educated guesses. Francis led Balor outside, walking him towards the south gates. Hopefully Jax and Ty would find some help in the Fort meanwhile.
There was something badly wrong with Balor. He had come all the way from Riverside to seek medical aid in Fort Praesidium. What drove a Tower member to seek help from the Foundry's base? Torment was unlikely, though Francis couldn't be sure: he had only met one live Tormented in the First Province. Whatever it was, it was bad. Balor was sweating, each step seemed to be an effort, a desperate push despite the pains.
They got outside the gates, and though Balor claimed to be able to go on, Francis sat him on a bench and pondered the possibilities. He couldn't torment Balor all the way to the general store in search of more help.
The pyres were near, the smell of burnt wood and flesh evident in the air. Balor would likely make it there. He was sick, not only spiritually as a follower of the false Decus, but now physically as well. If he was brought there, could he put up enough struggle to prevent Francis from pushing him into the fires? Would anyone see or hear? Could the act be shrugged off as a pre-emptive measure to prevent a Torment outbreak? Francis shook his head. It was too risky at this point.
Balor wasn't going anywhere on his own. If Francis could help him, he would gain trust among the Tower members. It wasn't like the terrorist couldn't be captured later. He decided to give Balor a chance.
It didn't take long for others to arrive. Eventually even the provost found his way there. Francis watched, standing beside Erinne. Both wore a gas mask. During the examination, Balor finally uttered two fateful words and Francis knew the man was done for.
Burning inside.
Weren't they the same words Francis had heard from a Tormented legionnaire in Aiwella? It shook him, not because of the realization of Balor's imminent demise, but rather because of the memories it brought up.
The events quickly escalated from that moment. Balor's torso burst open, releasing at least a dozen red, large worm-like creatures. They immediately attacked the crowd, scattering it. Francis retreated from the immediate onslaught.
When it was over, they were gathered around a pyre. The provost gathered what remained of the man known as Balor and tossed them into the fire. His flesh fed the flames, the stench of burnt flesh strong in the Fort. The flames danced to Rosaline's sobs, and Francis wished they would be merciful with Balor. This wasn't the kind of death he had hoped for the man. This was the kind of death only the most wicked and depraved deserved.
He looked to Clement who stood the closest to the pyre. The leader of the Tower was overtaken by a fit of emotion that probably raged inside his head.
Francis didn't want to believe the gruesome scene was the work of fate, but perhaps Balor's death was a sign. One by one, the members of the Tower would fall. He wondered if Clement too had begun to realize what was about to happen.
Your time will come soon enough.
Francis turned around and returned to the Fort. He had two reports to give. One as a cadet to the Foundry and the other as a spy to the constable.
- - -
His co-conspirators were excited. They were almost drooling, feasting on the grisly details of their plans. They were ready, the trap set. Now they would simply wait for the mouse.
Clement would be arrested first. Then Roseline, then the others. Selene Durai would be captured along with the other people in Riverside tavern. Alphonse was nowhere to be found, but they would think of a way to deal with him later.
Meanwhile, the members of the Tower would be presented in public. Their crimes and heinousy revealed to all. The Foundry would make sure to show their trophy to the whole province before making them an example of those who would defy the Venerated Republic.
Execution will not bring any of their victims back or undo the damage they have caused. Instead it will bring justice. Won't it?
- - -
The arrest was over with.
Francis had been through hell. It was supposed to be over now. He had cursed under his breath, endured long, circling arguments. Now he was just too tired to care.
”Everything I did was under the explicit orders of the church.”
Clement had said, and dropped the name of the Venerated Inquisition Corps.
Francis had infiltrated the Tower hoping to stabilize the region, to one day see the Foundry, the Chapter and the Legion stand united against the Torment, the real threat. Now it seemed like he had only made things worse. Even the inquisition was about to intervene.
Despite all this, he could no longer find any hint of guilt within himself. He had done what needed to be done. Perhaps it drove the Foundry into a political dilemma, gained them new enemies.
But what the heck.
He was alive. His mission was a success. Clement could go to hell. In fact, he most likely soon would. It was a shame about Roseline. But it had been a shame about Balor, a shame about the lost Foundry laborers, a shame about all the people who had perished in the past thirty years.
It wasn't his shame. He had done the right thing. He would watch Clement die and savour every moment of it.
- - -
The Tower was no more. Some people rejoiced, some were bitter. He was serene. There was one less threat to the Venerated Republic. They probably had more terrorist cells outside the First Province, but Francis was content. He had done his part. If the Tower ever returned to the First Province, he would be ready to do it again.
There was the matter of the inquisition, and the possible false Decus, but he couldn't be bothered with them right now.
As he turned to walk in the fortress, the morning sun greeted his face. The light was bleak and emotionless, but Francis thought it still felt brighter than ever before.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b6ytSnVPSOc
