The Heros Are All Dead: MISSION 2 [3h/?]
anonymous
February 2 2010, 11:41:42 UTC
Arthur was standing behind Francis, blocking off his southern escape. Alfred stepped out, blocking off the men’s northern route, and forcing them to either dart into the road, or flee past them, neither one a sound escape for Francis, as they both mean going into the darkness where the vampires waited for him. He shivered.
“Well, well,” the young man drawled, his teeth gleaming under the harsh streetlights. “What do we have here?” He looked at Francis with a coy look. “The mice from the Abby are here to play, non?”
Francis’ eyes were dark. “Please, mon enfant, I beg you-”
“Shut up,” the young man hissed angrily. “I haven’t been French in a very long time. Or do you not recall I went to Louisiana back in the 1800’s?”
Francis shook his head sadly, slowly. “Non, I did not.”
“Francis, get over here,” Arthur barked.
Francis looked wearily at Arthur, and sighed. “Why are you doing this, Angleterre?”
“Because,” Arthur said, emerald eyes blazing. “You’re my rival. Only I’m allowed to put you on your knees in utter defeat.”
Francis’ blue eyes flickered then, as if he had finally woken up, and something stirred just under the surface. The young man laughed raucously.
“You Rebellion dregs are really the worst,” he said, amused but highly venomous at the same time. “Even going so far as to find a look-a-like of your fallen hero, no doubt to fuel some moral. But it’s too little, too late. The world belongs to the Regent now. Just accept it.”
“Burn in hell,” Arthur fired back, hands glowing with fiery energy. “I’ll accept defeat only when my corpse is feeding the maggots!”
“So be it!” the man snarled in reply, drawing a slim, deadly rapier from his belt. “I’ll see to it personally!”
“Arthur!” Alfred yelled.
Arthur fired off the fireball before the man got to him, but it was expertly dodged with the man’s speed. Arthur swore like a sailor, and rolled out of the way of the blade’s arcing path. Alfred spotted the shreds of material as the rapier blade snagged Arthur’s cloak on the way down, and his breath hitched. He should be doing something, not standing here like an idiot!
Pulling his gun, he tried to get a bead on the man attacking them, but the movements were too fast, far too fast for Alfred to track. Just as he thought he had a solid bead on him, the man would dart to a new location as if he was teleporting, moving so fast he was simply a black blur under the flickering streetlights. Arthur wasn’t fairing so well, and his clothes had small tears in them from the deadly rapier blade.
“Shit!” Alfred swore loudly, frustrated. Francis was moving at this point, drawing his own rapier from its scabbard. The silvery blade caught the light, and gleamed with a blinding glare as it arced expertly, catching the man in the shoulder. There was a gasp from the man as he stumbled back, clutching at his arm, which was now hissing and smoking violently.
“Alchemised silver,” the man snarled. “Imbued with holy power. Where did you get that?”
“This blade once belonged to my beloved Jeanne,” Francis explained. “I gave it to her.”
The two men glared at each other then, and the younger’s face twisted into a terrifying look of pure rage. “You’ll pay for this treachery,” he vowed as he tried to flee into the night.
“Not so fast!” Arthur called, another fireball catching the weakened man before he could escape it. There was a grunt of pain, and he staggered again, shrieking insults in both French and English.
Alfred trained his gun, but Francis stopped him. “Unless those bullets are silver, Amérique, you’ll be doing no good.” He looked at Alfred with serious eyes. “Seigneur de Lioncourt ceased to be human a long time ago.”
Alfred nodded slowly, understanding, and lowered his gun. This was something Francis had to do, alone. The proud Nation stepped towards the fallen man, his rapier gleaming in the dull lights, his eyes soft and sympathetic.
Look at how he has broken you, mon enfant.
The vampire looked up into Francis’ face, eyes caught somewhere between hatred and desperation. Part of him wanted to tear the Nation’s eyes out, to spit on him, curse him, hate him. Another begged for death, for release.
The Heros Are All Dead: MISSION 2 [3i/?]
anonymous
February 2 2010, 11:45:53 UTC
“Mon enfant,” Francis cooed as he knelt at the man’s side, stroking the young man’s silken blond hair as a father would to his child as he comforts him after a nightmare. “Look at what the Régent’s power has done to you.”
The man whimpered, clutching at Francis desperately.
“You, who fought the Devil himself, who stood at the gates of heaven and went back. You who bested demons within and without. You who brought a Queen to her knees.” He looked sadder than ever now. “Look at what you have become.”
“It was…it was necessary…” the man wheezed. “The power…I needed…”
“How is this necessary?” Francis asked coolly.
“Do you not…remember?” The man asked, looking into his face. “That Christmas, so long ago? How you mockingly gave my power, but pulled away too soon? How you laughed at me, mocked me. I hated you.” His hands clenched. “But I loved you.” He cried, tears of blood mixing with the ash and dirt on his face. He was hansom, or had been once, but his evil heart has darkened him and stained him, and now, only now, at the edge of despair and defeat did his true beauty come through.
“It was for the best,” Francis told him, voice hitching.
“You destroyed me!” the man howled, beating Francis with his fists, pushing the Nation back. “You dangled it in my face, and snatched it back! You cold, cold bastard!”
Francis pulled the struggling man into a hug, amidst cursing and screaming and protest, and stroked his hair soothingly. It was clear that Francis forgave the vampire, even if the vampire refused that. The young man sobbed into Francis’ shoulder, his own shoulders heaving and shaking.
“Kill me,” he whispered.
Francis said nothing. He simply kept stroking the man’s hair.
“He’ll make me,” the man was whimpering now, trying to worm away from Francis. “He’ll force me to…oh dieu…” He clutched his head as he tore himself away from his Nation. “No no no no no NO!” He threw back his head with an inhuman howl, and Francis leapt to his feet in an instant, practically bowling over Arthur and Alfred as he backed up in a hurry.
“Get back!”
“But-!”
“No buts!”
The three men backed up and watched, horrified, as the vampire twisted into something far worse, far more feral and evil. His eyes burned red as he set his sights on them.
“Shoot to kill!” Francis bellowed. “Because he won’t hesitate to do so to us!”
Alfred unleashed a storm of bullets on the vampire, who seemed to shrug them off like nothing at all. Alfred cursed, and ducked to the side to avoid a tackle, rolling towards the storefronts, reloading the whole way. Arthur prepared more fireballs as Francis covered him, fending off attacks and getting some of his own in.
“Francis!” Alfred cried desperately. “I’m useless! My bullets may as well be peanuts!”
“Un moment, Amérique,” Francis told him as he parried another attack. “I’ll be right there.”
Arthur unleashed some more fireball hell on the vampire, and Francis took advantage of this to sprint to Alfred’s side. Touching the gun, he whispered a few things under his breath, and a faint silvery light seemed to emanate from his fingers for a moment before fading off as quickly as it came.
“What was that?” Alfred asked.
“A small spell,” Francis told him. “Your gun is now enchanted with holy blessings. Your bullets should do some damage now.”
Alfred grinned, not really sure how Francis did it (because he STILL refused to believe magic was real, even with such glaringly obvious examples of it right in his face), but not really caring either because now he could hurt the vampire bastard. He took aim and fired, satisfied to hear the beast cry out in pain.
Francis pulled out the harp at his side, and strummed quickly, creating a melody that seemed to bolster Alfred’s own courage by a few notches. In the heat of battle, Alfred didn’t even bother questioning it.
Arthur’s fireballs and Alfred’s now-enchanted bullets were wearing the creature down fast, and it tried to retreat, only to find Francis blocking off its escape into the night. With a saddened look, Francis delivered the finishing blow to the beast, his blade slamming deep into its heart.
The Heros Are All Dead: MISSION 2 [3j/?]
anonymous
February 2 2010, 11:47:40 UTC
The vampire fell away, his form melting into ash as it slowly disappeared, before a stiff breeze caught it, and blew it around the square a bit like dirt on a dry summer day. Francis took some in his hand, and let it go slowly on the wind, scattering it so the man could not be resurrected.
“I hope you find peace in death,” Francis whispered.
Alfred watched the ashes float away, feeling saddened and relieved. It was over. For now, at least.
***
“What will you do now, Francis?”
Alfred looked over at the Nation as Arthur finished up the last of the sealing ritual, placing the protective seal over France to keep the Regent out, just as he had done back home in Britain. Francis merely shrugged, and his long blond hair, pulled back half-heartily in a blue ribbon, was tossed about in the brisk wind. The sky was blue and dotted with lazy, fluffy white clouds. A beautiful day over Paris.
“I cannot stay here, not when the Rébellion needs me,” Francis said. “And I cannot keep up my charade with the Régent, not now that he most likely knows the truth.” He looked out into the distance, as if he was thinking. “I think, perhaps, I will go with you two.”
Arthur sputtered. “Not on your life, frog!”
Francis laughed lightly as he draped an arm over Arthur’s shoulders. “Oh come now, Angleterre! You need me! I am a vital asset to you!”
“I’d rather die!” Arthur howled angrily.
The two Nations then proceeded to race down the streets of Paris: Arthur chasing Francis the whole way, throwing insults and whatever else he could lay his hands on, the Frenchman laughing all the while. Alfred watched them disappear into the crowds, smiling. Little by little, life was returning to the world. Maybe it wasn’t life as he knew it, but it was life.
And that was all the hope he needed to keep going.
The Heros Are All Dead: DM'S NOTES FOR MISSION 2 PART 1
anonymous
February 2 2010, 12:28:44 UTC
Thanks for being so patient, everyone! I had a dry spell in terms of writing there for a bit, but I'm back, and this part is now done! Look forward to new stuff in the next month or so! Now for the notes:
Scotland's Cooking: Worse than England's. Tru fax.
Walk 500 Miles: Yes, I shamelessly used that Proclaimers song. I'm lame like that.
The Chunnel: The Channel Tunnel, known colloquially as the Chunnel, is a 50.5-kilometre (31.4 mi) undersea rail tunnel linking Folkestone, Kent near Dover in the United Kingdom with Coquelles, Pas-de-Calais near Calais in northern France beneath the English Channel at the Strait of Dover. At its lowest point it is 75 metres (250 ft) deep. At 37.9 kilometres (23.5 mi), the Channel Tunnel has the longest undersea portion of any tunnel in the world although the Seikan Tunnel in Japan is both longer overall, at 53.85 kilometres (33.46 mi) and deeper, at 240 metres (790 ft) below sea level. The tunnel carries high-speed Eurostar passenger trains, Eurotunnel Shuttle roll-on/roll-off vehicle transport-the largest in the world-and international rail freight trains. The tunnel connects end-to-end with the LGV Nord and Channel Tunnel Rail Link high-speed railway lines. In 1996 the American Society of Civil Engineers identified the tunnel as one of the Seven Wonders of the Modern World.
Song In The Trees: Francis uses the Song of Courage here, and again later in the last fight for this chapter. It boosts attack power, and dispels the status ailment fear.
Vampires: Though never spoken, it is implied that the vampires roaming the streets are the remnants of the civilians that Francis was forced to give the Regent and his General as payment for being allowed to keep his country in tact.
Drawn to Alfred's Blood: Alfred, not being of this world, reeks of power, and lesser creatures are drawn to it like a magnet. He reflects the power he holds in his world, not the state of America in that world (or lack thereof).
Notre Dame and Jeanne: Notre Dame Cathedral is one of France's oldest cathedrals, and was the sight of many things, including Jeanne d'Ark's partial sainthood. (It was there that she was officially declared 'blessed') France holds Jeanne very dear to him, and therefore wear her Sainthood metal around his neck. Jeanne is a saint who supports martyrdom, just as a note I found interesting.
Sleeping on Pews: Having done so myself, I can honestly say this is not the most comfortable of things to do.
Interdimentional Travel: Another clever nudge at Doctor Who
Hunchbacks Who Ring Bells: The Hunchback of Notre Dame references here. I read a few fics about Alfred and Francis and Notre Dame and whatnot already on this meme. I thought it'd be a cute reference.
The Watchdog of France: The General assigned to bully Francis into line is, of course, Lestat de Lioncourt from The Vampire Chronicles series by Anne Rice. I read a simply delicious ficlet on this meme somewhere that was FrancexLestat. Needless to say, I wanted to reference it. (This meme needs more FrancexLestat!)
Avenue des Champs-Élysées: Paris' most famous street, and the home to most of its prime fashion boutiques, this street is outrageously expensive to rent a spot on. It's usually teaming with crowds, so to find it deserted is not only eerie, but just plain wrong.
France's Blood: Headcannon dictates that the blood of a Nation is the blood of all of its people, so to drain a Nation (no easy feat) would be like draining the blood of every single person in the Nation. Yikes.
Mon Enfant: France calls Lestat this because he still sees him as one of his citizens, despite everything that has happened. It means 'my child' in French.
Alchemised Silver: Silver that has been purified using alchemy, and refined so that it is stronger than steel. This fabled metal is often said to be used to defeat demons and the like.
Seigneur: 'Lord' in French. France uses the title because, before he died, Lestat would have been a noble.
The Heros Are All Dead: DM'S NOTES FOR MISSION 2 PART 2
anonymous
February 2 2010, 12:35:48 UTC
Lestat's Pain: The exchange between Lestat and France is a reference to the same fic as before. (I swear I'll find it and link it someday)
Enchant Weapon: Francis uses the Enchant Weapon spell on Alfred's gun, giving it the holy property, and allowing it to actually damage Lestat.
Song of Courage: As previously mentioned, this song boosts attack, and eliminated the fear status ailment. France, in case you haven't guessed, is a bard, and thus uses songs to buff allies and de-buff enemies.
Scattering the Ashes: Vampires can return to live unless their ashes are scattered. Francis is releasing Lestat here, and praying he will find peace in the afterlife. (Despite he has no place in either heaven or hell)
Magical Centerpoint I couldn't decide if it should be the Eiffel Tower or the Arc d'Triumph. It could be either one, or another place entirely. After all, it is where the magic is the strongest.
“Well, well,” the young man drawled, his teeth gleaming under the harsh streetlights. “What do we have here?” He looked at Francis with a coy look. “The mice from the Abby are here to play, non?”
Francis’ eyes were dark. “Please, mon enfant, I beg you-”
“Shut up,” the young man hissed angrily. “I haven’t been French in a very long time. Or do you not recall I went to Louisiana back in the 1800’s?”
Francis shook his head sadly, slowly. “Non, I did not.”
“Francis, get over here,” Arthur barked.
Francis looked wearily at Arthur, and sighed. “Why are you doing this, Angleterre?”
“Because,” Arthur said, emerald eyes blazing. “You’re my rival. Only I’m allowed to put you on your knees in utter defeat.”
Francis’ blue eyes flickered then, as if he had finally woken up, and something stirred just under the surface. The young man laughed raucously.
“You Rebellion dregs are really the worst,” he said, amused but highly venomous at the same time. “Even going so far as to find a look-a-like of your fallen hero, no doubt to fuel some moral. But it’s too little, too late. The world belongs to the Regent now. Just accept it.”
“Burn in hell,” Arthur fired back, hands glowing with fiery energy. “I’ll accept defeat only when my corpse is feeding the maggots!”
“So be it!” the man snarled in reply, drawing a slim, deadly rapier from his belt. “I’ll see to it personally!”
“Arthur!” Alfred yelled.
Arthur fired off the fireball before the man got to him, but it was expertly dodged with the man’s speed. Arthur swore like a sailor, and rolled out of the way of the blade’s arcing path. Alfred spotted the shreds of material as the rapier blade snagged Arthur’s cloak on the way down, and his breath hitched. He should be doing something, not standing here like an idiot!
Pulling his gun, he tried to get a bead on the man attacking them, but the movements were too fast, far too fast for Alfred to track. Just as he thought he had a solid bead on him, the man would dart to a new location as if he was teleporting, moving so fast he was simply a black blur under the flickering streetlights. Arthur wasn’t fairing so well, and his clothes had small tears in them from the deadly rapier blade.
“Shit!” Alfred swore loudly, frustrated. Francis was moving at this point, drawing his own rapier from its scabbard. The silvery blade caught the light, and gleamed with a blinding glare as it arced expertly, catching the man in the shoulder. There was a gasp from the man as he stumbled back, clutching at his arm, which was now hissing and smoking violently.
“Alchemised silver,” the man snarled. “Imbued with holy power. Where did you get that?”
“This blade once belonged to my beloved Jeanne,” Francis explained. “I gave it to her.”
The two men glared at each other then, and the younger’s face twisted into a terrifying look of pure rage. “You’ll pay for this treachery,” he vowed as he tried to flee into the night.
“Not so fast!” Arthur called, another fireball catching the weakened man before he could escape it. There was a grunt of pain, and he staggered again, shrieking insults in both French and English.
Alfred trained his gun, but Francis stopped him. “Unless those bullets are silver, Amérique, you’ll be doing no good.” He looked at Alfred with serious eyes. “Seigneur de Lioncourt ceased to be human a long time ago.”
Alfred nodded slowly, understanding, and lowered his gun. This was something Francis had to do, alone. The proud Nation stepped towards the fallen man, his rapier gleaming in the dull lights, his eyes soft and sympathetic.
Look at how he has broken you, mon enfant.
The vampire looked up into Francis’ face, eyes caught somewhere between hatred and desperation. Part of him wanted to tear the Nation’s eyes out, to spit on him, curse him, hate him. Another begged for death, for release.
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The man whimpered, clutching at Francis desperately.
“You, who fought the Devil himself, who stood at the gates of heaven and went back. You who bested demons within and without. You who brought a Queen to her knees.” He looked sadder than ever now. “Look at what you have become.”
“It was…it was necessary…” the man wheezed. “The power…I needed…”
“How is this necessary?” Francis asked coolly.
“Do you not…remember?” The man asked, looking into his face. “That Christmas, so long ago? How you mockingly gave my power, but pulled away too soon? How you laughed at me, mocked me. I hated you.” His hands clenched. “But I loved you.” He cried, tears of blood mixing with the ash and dirt on his face. He was hansom, or had been once, but his evil heart has darkened him and stained him, and now, only now, at the edge of despair and defeat did his true beauty come through.
“It was for the best,” Francis told him, voice hitching.
“You destroyed me!” the man howled, beating Francis with his fists, pushing the Nation back. “You dangled it in my face, and snatched it back! You cold, cold bastard!”
Francis pulled the struggling man into a hug, amidst cursing and screaming and protest, and stroked his hair soothingly. It was clear that Francis forgave the vampire, even if the vampire refused that. The young man sobbed into Francis’ shoulder, his own shoulders heaving and shaking.
“Kill me,” he whispered.
Francis said nothing. He simply kept stroking the man’s hair.
“He’ll make me,” the man was whimpering now, trying to worm away from Francis. “He’ll force me to…oh dieu…” He clutched his head as he tore himself away from his Nation. “No no no no no NO!” He threw back his head with an inhuman howl, and Francis leapt to his feet in an instant, practically bowling over Arthur and Alfred as he backed up in a hurry.
“Get back!”
“But-!”
“No buts!”
The three men backed up and watched, horrified, as the vampire twisted into something far worse, far more feral and evil. His eyes burned red as he set his sights on them.
“Shoot to kill!” Francis bellowed. “Because he won’t hesitate to do so to us!”
Alfred unleashed a storm of bullets on the vampire, who seemed to shrug them off like nothing at all. Alfred cursed, and ducked to the side to avoid a tackle, rolling towards the storefronts, reloading the whole way. Arthur prepared more fireballs as Francis covered him, fending off attacks and getting some of his own in.
“Francis!” Alfred cried desperately. “I’m useless! My bullets may as well be peanuts!”
“Un moment, Amérique,” Francis told him as he parried another attack. “I’ll be right there.”
Arthur unleashed some more fireball hell on the vampire, and Francis took advantage of this to sprint to Alfred’s side. Touching the gun, he whispered a few things under his breath, and a faint silvery light seemed to emanate from his fingers for a moment before fading off as quickly as it came.
“What was that?” Alfred asked.
“A small spell,” Francis told him. “Your gun is now enchanted with holy blessings. Your bullets should do some damage now.”
Alfred grinned, not really sure how Francis did it (because he STILL refused to believe magic was real, even with such glaringly obvious examples of it right in his face), but not really caring either because now he could hurt the vampire bastard. He took aim and fired, satisfied to hear the beast cry out in pain.
Francis pulled out the harp at his side, and strummed quickly, creating a melody that seemed to bolster Alfred’s own courage by a few notches. In the heat of battle, Alfred didn’t even bother questioning it.
Arthur’s fireballs and Alfred’s now-enchanted bullets were wearing the creature down fast, and it tried to retreat, only to find Francis blocking off its escape into the night. With a saddened look, Francis delivered the finishing blow to the beast, his blade slamming deep into its heart.
“Forgive me…”
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“I hope you find peace in death,” Francis whispered.
Alfred watched the ashes float away, feeling saddened and relieved. It was over. For now, at least.
***
“What will you do now, Francis?”
Alfred looked over at the Nation as Arthur finished up the last of the sealing ritual, placing the protective seal over France to keep the Regent out, just as he had done back home in Britain. Francis merely shrugged, and his long blond hair, pulled back half-heartily in a blue ribbon, was tossed about in the brisk wind. The sky was blue and dotted with lazy, fluffy white clouds. A beautiful day over Paris.
“I cannot stay here, not when the Rébellion needs me,” Francis said. “And I cannot keep up my charade with the Régent, not now that he most likely knows the truth.” He looked out into the distance, as if he was thinking. “I think, perhaps, I will go with you two.”
Arthur sputtered. “Not on your life, frog!”
Francis laughed lightly as he draped an arm over Arthur’s shoulders. “Oh come now, Angleterre! You need me! I am a vital asset to you!”
“I’d rather die!” Arthur howled angrily.
The two Nations then proceeded to race down the streets of Paris: Arthur chasing Francis the whole way, throwing insults and whatever else he could lay his hands on, the Frenchman laughing all the while. Alfred watched them disappear into the crowds, smiling. Little by little, life was returning to the world. Maybe it wasn’t life as he knew it, but it was life.
And that was all the hope he needed to keep going.
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Now for the notes:
Scotland's Cooking: Worse than England's. Tru fax.
Walk 500 Miles: Yes, I shamelessly used that Proclaimers song. I'm lame like that.
The Chunnel: The Channel Tunnel, known colloquially as the Chunnel, is a 50.5-kilometre (31.4 mi) undersea rail tunnel linking Folkestone, Kent near Dover in the United Kingdom with Coquelles, Pas-de-Calais near Calais in northern France beneath the English Channel at the Strait of Dover. At its lowest point it is 75 metres (250 ft) deep. At 37.9 kilometres (23.5 mi), the Channel Tunnel has the longest undersea portion of any tunnel in the world although the Seikan Tunnel in Japan is both longer overall, at 53.85 kilometres (33.46 mi) and deeper, at 240 metres (790 ft) below sea level. The tunnel carries high-speed Eurostar passenger trains, Eurotunnel Shuttle roll-on/roll-off vehicle transport-the largest in the world-and international rail freight trains. The tunnel connects end-to-end with the LGV Nord and Channel Tunnel Rail Link high-speed railway lines. In 1996 the American Society of Civil Engineers identified the tunnel as one of the Seven Wonders of the Modern World.
Song In The Trees: Francis uses the Song of Courage here, and again later in the last fight for this chapter. It boosts attack power, and dispels the status ailment fear.
Vampires: Though never spoken, it is implied that the vampires roaming the streets are the remnants of the civilians that Francis was forced to give the Regent and his General as payment for being allowed to keep his country in tact.
Drawn to Alfred's Blood: Alfred, not being of this world, reeks of power, and lesser creatures are drawn to it like a magnet. He reflects the power he holds in his world, not the state of America in that world (or lack thereof).
Notre Dame and Jeanne: Notre Dame Cathedral is one of France's oldest cathedrals, and was the sight of many things, including Jeanne d'Ark's partial sainthood. (It was there that she was officially declared 'blessed') France holds Jeanne very dear to him, and therefore wear her Sainthood metal around his neck. Jeanne is a saint who supports martyrdom, just as a note I found interesting.
Sleeping on Pews: Having done so myself, I can honestly say this is not the most comfortable of things to do.
Interdimentional Travel: Another clever nudge at Doctor Who
Hunchbacks Who Ring Bells: The Hunchback of Notre Dame references here. I read a few fics about Alfred and Francis and Notre Dame and whatnot already on this meme. I thought it'd be a cute reference.
The Watchdog of France: The General assigned to bully Francis into line is, of course, Lestat de Lioncourt from The Vampire Chronicles series by Anne Rice. I read a simply delicious ficlet on this meme somewhere that was FrancexLestat. Needless to say, I wanted to reference it. (This meme needs more FrancexLestat!)
Avenue des Champs-Élysées: Paris' most famous street, and the home to most of its prime fashion boutiques, this street is outrageously expensive to rent a spot on. It's usually teaming with crowds, so to find it deserted is not only eerie, but just plain wrong.
France's Blood: Headcannon dictates that the blood of a Nation is the blood of all of its people, so to drain a Nation (no easy feat) would be like draining the blood of every single person in the Nation. Yikes.
Mon Enfant: France calls Lestat this because he still sees him as one of his citizens, despite everything that has happened. It means 'my child' in French.
Alchemised Silver: Silver that has been purified using alchemy, and refined so that it is stronger than steel. This fabled metal is often said to be used to defeat demons and the like.
Seigneur: 'Lord' in French. France uses the title because, before he died, Lestat would have been a noble.
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Enchant Weapon: Francis uses the Enchant Weapon spell on Alfred's gun, giving it the holy property, and allowing it to actually damage Lestat.
Song of Courage: As previously mentioned, this song boosts attack, and eliminated the fear status ailment. France, in case you haven't guessed, is a bard, and thus uses songs to buff allies and de-buff enemies.
Scattering the Ashes: Vampires can return to live unless their ashes are scattered. Francis is releasing Lestat here, and praying he will find peace in the afterlife. (Despite he has no place in either heaven or hell)
Magical Centerpoint I couldn't decide if it should be the Eiffel Tower or the Arc d'Triumph. It could be either one, or another place entirely. After all, it is where the magic is the strongest.
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Can't wait till the next installment!
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