that sought to end the Regime’s inequality and injustice, but was eventually arrested and sent to Bastille where she has been kept in solitary confinement for the past seventeen years.
Monsieur and Madame Renard:
Third Estate. Con artists and parents of Chatine, Azelle, and Henri Renard. Former owners of the Jondrette Inn in Montfer, they moved to Vallonay ten years ago where Monsieur Renard became the leader of the formidable Délabré gang. After Hugo Taureau, the escaped convict, was spotted in the Frets, the Renards pursued and kidnapped him, in an attempt to secure his bounty, but were soon after arrested by Inspecteur Limier.
Azelle Renard:
Third Estate. Oldest daughter of the Renards and sister to Chatine and Henri. A law-abiding employee of the TéléSkin fabrique, she dreamed of winning the Ascension lottery and ascending to the Second Estate. But in the recent spate of unrest, the TéléSkin fabrique was bombed by an unknown attacker, killing Azelle and eleven other workers.
Henri Renard:
Third Estate. Youngest child of the Renards and baby brother to Chatine and Azelle. Chatine believed him to be dead until recently when it was discovered that her parents sold him off to pay their debts.
Sergent Chacal:
Second Estate. A bullheaded Vallonay Policier sergent who reports to Inspecteur Limier. Chacal is ruthless, cruel, and doles out violent punishments with a metal baton.
Commandeur Vernay:
Second Estate. The general’s closest friend and former commandeur of the Ministère. She was killed on a failed mission to assassinate Queen Mathilda, the “Mad Queen” of Albion (Laterre’s longtime enemy) during Usonia’s recent war of independence. Since her death, General Bonnefaçon has been grooming Marcellus to take Vernay’s place as commandeur.
Roche:
Third Estate. An orphan—or “Oublie”—who grew up in the Frets of Vallonay. He was recently arrested for delivering messages for the Vangarde. In an attempt to prove he’s innocent, Marcellus recruited Chatine to interrogate Roche which inadvertently resulted in Roche’s imprisonment on Bastille.
The Sisters of the Refuge:
A secret society of ten women who protect the Forgotten Word and an extensive library of books rescued from the First World. Led by Principale Francine, all ten sisters live in a bunker hidden beneath the Frets and wear a string of “devotion beads” around their necks. For the past twelve years, Alouette Taureau has lived and studied with the sisters, unaware until recently that they are also the leaders of a rebel group known as the Vangarde.
The Vangarde:
A rebel group believed to be dead after their leader, Citizen Rousseau, was arrested and sent to Bastille during the Rebellion of 488. They’ve spent the past seventeen years in hiding, building their numbers in preparation for a resurgence. The Refuge of the Sisterhood is their central base of operations. Two of their operatives—Sister Jacqui and Sister Denise—were recently captured during a mission to break into the office of the Warden of Bastille in an attempt to free their imprisoned leader.
- PART 1 - CITIZEN ROUSSEAU
Like flowers toward a Sol, they turned to her. Like birds searching for a warm current, they found her. Like fish in the ocean, they swam toward her wake. She opened their eyes with her words and their hearts with the truth. She showed them that power was not outside of them, pressing down like a vast stone that could never be moved. Power was within their own bodies, their own hands, and their own minds, just waiting to be found.
But her message threatened those who preferred silence.
Those who demanded obedience.
So they stole her voice and tried to erase her name.
From The Chronicles of the Vangarde, Volume 1, Chapter 1
- CHAPTER 1 - MARCELLUS
MARCELLUS BONNEFAÇON MOVED LIKE A shadow among shadows, ducking under cables and darting around rusty cages that sat empty and gaping like sinister, hungry mouths. With every step he took through the abandoned exploit, his heart pounded harder, making him feel more and more like the traitor he had become.
The traitor his grandfather always knew he would become.
You were right, Grand-père. I am just like my father.
Rain splattered up from the puddles as Marcellus wound his way past a collapsed hoist tower that lay twisted and decaying on the uneven ground. The old copper exploit hadn’t been operational in seventeen years, but it felt as if it had been deserted for centuries. It was an eerie, ominous place, with rows of abandoned shaft entrances, dark and empty like black holes in a galaxy. Two weeks ago, Marcellus might have turned around, his fear sending him scurrying back to his plush, well-lit rooms in the Grand Palais. But not now.