kokiboki
Well-known member
- Joined
- Oct 14, 2020
- Messages
- 98
- Points
- 58
May 27th, 1645
The priest's voice echoed through the solemn stillness of the church, a gravity befitting the occasion. "My dear brethren," he began, "We gather today, on this 27th day of May in the year of our Lord 1645, to witness the holy sacrament of matrimony between our beloved brother, Josef Hannawald, and Émilienne Tourneur, our precious sister."
Soft creaks emanated from the pews as the congregation settled in, their attention riveted on the couple standing at the altar.
Émilienne's veil obscured her face from view, yet her nervousness was unmistakable. She was marrying a man more than twice her age, and one not particularly well-liked.
As her gaze swept over the crowd, Émilienne's eyes fell upon a face that stirred a memory. She frowned momentarily, trying to place where she had seen him before.
Within seconds, the man rose from the pews, holding a rifle.
"Die, heretics!" he bellowed, firing at the high priest. The congregation erupted in screams as the bullet tore through the priest's shoulder. A second gunman fired, striking the bride in the neck.
\*
October 23rd, 1648 — Present day
Anaïs stared intently at the old newspaper clipping, its faded ink still legible. The article described the wedding massacre as a calculated assault on the Theirardian Republic and its people, carried out by an unnamed group of radicals seeking to undermine the government by targeting key members of the royal family.
The bride and high priest were only the first victims; more nobles were killed or injured in subsequent attacks.
The article ended with a stern warning from the Ministry of Defense: citizens aiding the radicals would face arrest and prosecution to the fullest extent of the law.
As Colonel Renaud Perrin entered her office, Anaïs looked up from the newspaper clipping. "Major Dupont, may I see that clipping for a moment?" he asked.
"Of course, Colonel Perrin," she replied, handing him the yellowed paper.
The colonel examined the article, his brow furrowing. "You believe the man you saw on the train is the same one mentioned here?"
"Yes, sir," Anaïs confirmed, nodding. "The resemblance is uncanny."
"Thank you, Major Dupont. You are dismissed."
Upon Anaïs' exit, Colonel Perrin immediately reached for the phone. "Connect me to Director Leclair of the Theirardian Intelligence Agency. This is Colonel Renaud Perrin calling from Paris."
Minutes later, Director Olivier Leclair's voice filtered through the receiver. "Colonel Perrin, what is it this time? You better not waste my time again."
"I received a report regarding an incident on a Marseille-bound train. One of my officers claims to have seen a man matching the description of the 1645 massacre attacker."
A heavy silence fell as Director Leclair absorbed the news. "Are you certain of this, Colonel?" he asked, his tone somber.
"As certain as we can be, Director. The description matches our records."
"I'll get back to you after consulting with the prime minister," Director Leclair sighed. "Until then, let's keep this information within a close circle."
"Shouldn't we arrest—"
"Colonel Renaud Perrin, we are not law enforcement; we lack arrest authority." He spoke calmly through the receiver as it hangs up.
/*
October 26th, 1648 - The Office of Prime Minister Bertrand Baudouin, Theirardian Republic
Prime Minister Baudouin's office is adorned with elegant furnishings and artwork, the walls lined with bookshelves. Seated behind a large oak desk, Baudouin listened intently as Director Olivier Leclair revealed the reappearance of the 1645 massacre suspect.
"If what Colonel Perrin claims is true," the prime minister mused, stroking his silver seeking wisdom in its brittle strands,
The priest's voice echoed through the solemn stillness of the church, a gravity befitting the occasion. "My dear brethren," he began, "We gather today, on this 27th day of May in the year of our Lord 1645, to witness the holy sacrament of matrimony between our beloved brother, Josef Hannawald, and Émilienne Tourneur, our precious sister."
Soft creaks emanated from the pews as the congregation settled in, their attention riveted on the couple standing at the altar.
Émilienne's veil obscured her face from view, yet her nervousness was unmistakable. She was marrying a man more than twice her age, and one not particularly well-liked.
As her gaze swept over the crowd, Émilienne's eyes fell upon a face that stirred a memory. She frowned momentarily, trying to place where she had seen him before.
Within seconds, the man rose from the pews, holding a rifle.
"Die, heretics!" he bellowed, firing at the high priest. The congregation erupted in screams as the bullet tore through the priest's shoulder. A second gunman fired, striking the bride in the neck.
\*
October 23rd, 1648 — Present day
Anaïs stared intently at the old newspaper clipping, its faded ink still legible. The article described the wedding massacre as a calculated assault on the Theirardian Republic and its people, carried out by an unnamed group of radicals seeking to undermine the government by targeting key members of the royal family.
The bride and high priest were only the first victims; more nobles were killed or injured in subsequent attacks.
The article ended with a stern warning from the Ministry of Defense: citizens aiding the radicals would face arrest and prosecution to the fullest extent of the law.
As Colonel Renaud Perrin entered her office, Anaïs looked up from the newspaper clipping. "Major Dupont, may I see that clipping for a moment?" he asked.
"Of course, Colonel Perrin," she replied, handing him the yellowed paper.
The colonel examined the article, his brow furrowing. "You believe the man you saw on the train is the same one mentioned here?"
"Yes, sir," Anaïs confirmed, nodding. "The resemblance is uncanny."
"Thank you, Major Dupont. You are dismissed."
Upon Anaïs' exit, Colonel Perrin immediately reached for the phone. "Connect me to Director Leclair of the Theirardian Intelligence Agency. This is Colonel Renaud Perrin calling from Paris."
Minutes later, Director Olivier Leclair's voice filtered through the receiver. "Colonel Perrin, what is it this time? You better not waste my time again."
"I received a report regarding an incident on a Marseille-bound train. One of my officers claims to have seen a man matching the description of the 1645 massacre attacker."
A heavy silence fell as Director Leclair absorbed the news. "Are you certain of this, Colonel?" he asked, his tone somber.
"As certain as we can be, Director. The description matches our records."
"I'll get back to you after consulting with the prime minister," Director Leclair sighed. "Until then, let's keep this information within a close circle."
"Shouldn't we arrest—"
"Colonel Renaud Perrin, we are not law enforcement; we lack arrest authority." He spoke calmly through the receiver as it hangs up.
/*
October 26th, 1648 - The Office of Prime Minister Bertrand Baudouin, Theirardian Republic
Prime Minister Baudouin's office is adorned with elegant furnishings and artwork, the walls lined with bookshelves. Seated behind a large oak desk, Baudouin listened intently as Director Olivier Leclair revealed the reappearance of the 1645 massacre suspect.
"If what Colonel Perrin claims is true," the prime minister mused, stroking his silver seeking wisdom in its brittle strands,
