Chapter 7
02. White Flower (1)
After a sleepless night, the next day Anaïs headed to Rüe.
It had been weeks since she had last left Basbourg.
Beluze, which included Dunan and Verdois within its territory, had become the main battleground between the Revolutionary Army and the Imperial Restorationist resistance forces. Rüe, where the Revolutionary Army was stationed, was a city right next to Beluze. The army was using the old wing of the Rüe City Hall and the plains behind it as their encampment.
Upon arriving at the camp, Anaïs found people who recognized her greeting her from all directions. She had to stop several times along the way to kindly return greetings to each one of them.
The sight of navy uniforms—worn by soldiers under Philippe—and the black uniforms of the former Imperial Army, now called the Republican Army, all mixed together, felt even more surreal than seeing it at the front lines. She had been seeing this same scene since before the Night of the Revolution, yet it still felt strange. The fact that the only way to distinguish the Republican soldiers from the Imperial Restorationists was the revolutionary badge on their chests continued to trouble her.
“It’s been a while, Anaïs.”
What stopped her as she walked through the camp, observing the surroundings, was the voice of Auguste Germain—one of the three revolutionaries sent here by order of President Renicourt. Anaïs recognized him by his uniquely gentle voice and turned to greet him with a bright smile.
“It has, Mr. Germain. You’ve been… well?”
Her voice trailed off at the end, because Auguste looked nothing like the man she knew. The Auguste Germain Anaïs remembered was the epitome of a gentleman—the kind who, even during the days when the Revolutionary Army was being hunted by the Imperial suppression forces and living like fugitives, always insisted on wearing a neat, impeccable suit. Yet today, he was walking down the main street in rolled-up shirt sleeves, suspenders fully visible, and no vest in sight. Even the pomade he always used to slick his hair back had been abandoned.
It was a clear sign that the situation here was anything but easy, and the realization made her uneasy again. There was already so much to worry about, and now she had to fret over Léonard as well. Sleep-deprived and overwhelmed by anxiety, she could feel her already fragile condition worsening by the moment.
“I’ve been managing, as you can see. Not a scratch on me. But you, on the other hand, don’t look so well. Have you been getting any sleep?”
“Of course… Why wouldn’t I be sleeping?”
“Don’t think I don’t know you. You’ve always had mountains of reasons to lose sleep. Lying about being fine isn’t exactly a good habit, Anaïs.”
Auguste’s words, sounding almost stern, left Anaïs with no choice but to confess.
“I… didn’t sleep very well last night.”
“See? And you thought you could fool me.”
Though he called himself an ‘adult,’ Auguste was only eleven years older than her. Clicking his tongue, he playfully ruffled Anaïs’ hair.
“Sorry. I’m just really tired. You know how when you’re too exhausted, it actually makes it harder to sleep?”
“I heard you’ve been stationed in Dunan, looking after the wounded. Don’t overwork yourself.”
“You could just say I’ve been running a hospital. It’d sound simpler.”
“If that’s what you wanted it to be, you’d be charging for treatment, wouldn’t you?”
It was a subtle jab at the fact that Anaïs wasn’t taking any payment for her medical work. Of course, it wasn’t a suggestion that she start charging patients either. Auguste was the very person who had repeatedly sent word to Senne, insisting that civilians affected by the civil war deserved government compensation.
Struck right where it hurt, Anaïs bit her lip and then let out a sheepish laugh. Even for someone as reserved as her, Auguste was easy to be around. Back when the council convened over the execution of the royal family, he had been her only ally in opposing it. His stance—like Ariane’s initial opinion before she abstained from voting—was that a proper trial should take place first.
Recalling how that proposal had been dismissed for lack of time and necessity, Anaïs’ expression turned bitter. Auguste chalked it up to fatigue and smoothly shifted the subject.
“And Angèle… I mean, the President?”
Auguste, like Angèle, was a revolutionary from a legal background—a junior colleague of hers and one of Frédéric’s last students. Frédéric Belmartier, once a professor of law at Boarnet University, had retired from lecturing after Auguste’s cohort and later became the university’s chancellor. Angèle had shared the same mentor, and the two former students had remained close.
“She’s fine, aside from being swamped with worries.”
“That so? Well, I suppose that’s a small mercy in the middle of this mess.”
“Indeed. I was honestly shocked. From what Edmond told me, it didn’t sound nearly this—”
“Anaïs!”
An all-too-familiar voice called out from a short distance away.
It seemed one of Philippe’s men had been quick on the uptake. There was Philippe himself, dashing toward her at near-lightning speed, calling her name loud enough for everyone to hear. Anaïs slowly turned her head to look at him, waited until he was close enough, and then greeted him with a soft smile.
“Hello, Mr. Ardinen.”
“Good afternoon, Anaïs. You don’t look well—are you alright?”
“I’m just a little tired, that’s all.”
A little? It didn’t look like “a little” to him. Philippe frowned.
“Instead of standing around here, you should come inside and rest for a while—”
“So eager to run off you’d abandon a heated debate with me? You must be thrilled to see Belmartier again, Mr. Ardinen.”
A relaxed, drawling voice cut Philippe off before he could finish. From behind him emerged a woman in a black military uniform, strolling at an unhurried pace. Anaïs tilted her head slightly to look past Philippe’s shoulder at the newcomer. Her hair, the color of pale sand, was swept up neatly into a knot, and the crisp jacket draped over her shoulders was instantly familiar.
“If you want to think our debate was exhausting, be my guest, Major Châtelet.”
“I thought we were doing a fine job smoothing over our differences with that exhausting debate.”
It was Major Céline Châtelet who spoke—the leader of the military faction that had joined the Revolution, and now the commanding officer of the government troops stationed here in Rüe. Her mere arrival had silenced the soldiers nearby in an instant. Folding her arms as if displeased with Philippe, Céline quickly realized her oversight and offered Anaïs a graceful smile and nod. Anaïs gladly returned the greeting before asking:
“How have you been, Major Châtelet?”
“Still breathing, which is all one can really hope for in this chaos. My adjutant owes you a great debt from last time, Belmartier.”
“I only did what I had to do.”
“You always say that, but truth is, you’ve been pushing yourself far beyond what’s necessary. Isn’t that why you look so pale today?”
Anaïs and Céline didn’t meet as often as some of the other comrades, but they’d known each other for quite a while. Céline had faced endless injustices as a cadet because of her social status, and her decision to join the Revolutionary Army went back a long way. She also had a tendency—though perhaps not as famously as Ariane Champollion—to make sharp, piercing remarks without batting an eye.
At Céline’s cutting observation, Anaïs gave an awkward laugh. She had indeed been overexerting herself lately—for reasons that went beyond mere busyness. There were things she didn’t want to think about. Not that it mattered; Dunan and its surroundings kept any doctor far too occupied to dwell on personal matters.
As Anaïs let out a short, breathy laugh—ha, ha—Céline seemed about to add something when Philippe jumped in first.
“Major, as it happens, I have something important to discuss with Anaïs right now. Would you mind giving us some privacy?”
Céline paused, thinking for a moment, then flashed a mischievous grin.
“Oh? So this is where I’m supposed to bow out for the sake of your little romantic adventure?”
“I only have something to say to Anaïs, that’s all.”
“Oh?”
Sounds the same to me, Auguste muttered under his breath, clearly entertained. Anaïs, long accustomed to scenes like this, simply watched in silence as Céline continued.
“Well, whatever it is, I imagine it’s nothing more scandalous than inviting her to dinner. My business isn’t urgent anyway, so I’ll leave you to it. Best of luck.”
With that, Céline tossed off a lazy salute and strode away. Her figure quickly disappeared into the distance, and the muted stillness her presence had imposed gave way to lively noise once again. Confirming that Céline was gone, Philippe turned to Auguste with a cautious look.
“Mr. Germain, I hate to ask, but…”
“My dear fellow, I know when to take a hint. Just remember, I’m stepping aside because I trust you—so don’t do anything foolish.”
“That’s a groundless concern, I assure you.”
Philippe replied with a feigned air of innocence. Auguste left them with a casual “See you later” before heading briskly toward the old city hall. Anaïs, meanwhile, made a mental note to go there herself after finishing with Philippe.
Once Céline and Auguste were gone, Philippe placed one hand behind his back and extended the other toward Anaïs in a formal gesture of escort. Resting her gloved hand atop his, Anaïs allowed herself to be led without protest. Philippe guided her into a secluded alleyway where not a single soul was in sight.
“At last, just the two of us. And it’s nice and quiet here, too.”
“Mr. Ardinen, I’m sorry, but I came today to meet Mr. Germain and the others, so dinner will have to—”
“That’s not what I wanted to talk about, Anaïs.”
She had suspected as much. Calmly withdrawing her hand, Anaïs waited for him to explain. Philippe Ardinen might act lighthearted, but he wasn’t truly a frivolous man. If he’d gone to the trouble of bringing her somewhere like this, he must have had a serious reason. And sure enough—
“Yesterday.”
His voice, suddenly grave, reverberated through the empty alley.
“You met the Second Prince, didn’t you?”
Philippe spoke the words like he was revealing the most important secret in the world.
