CHAPTER 1 - Le Beginning

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There she laid on the cold floor, clothed in what could be called little more than rags found on the floor and showed obvious signs of abuse and physical trauma. Yvette du Yulois.

Her beauty, once known as near-peerless and only matched by the War Maiden of Preusea and a few others, was in shambles due to the poor conditions of the dungeons she was stored in as well as the lack of basic hygiene and maintenance.

“Get up.” A guard coldly said.

 

She tried to slowly stand up, as she was incredibly weak, a far cry from her once mighty self. The guards snickered, taunted, and whispered amongst themselves, loud enough for Yvette to hear, but not to comprehend. Despite her weak state, she was angered by this display. But alas, the pain in her throat stopped any attempt of hers to speak up.

The guards opened her cell door and, without any care for her well-being, aggressively handled her, being escorted to a suitable area for her to get dressed.

 

She was then handed over to the handmaiden who dressed her up with some decent clothes. Maybe an attempt by the revolutionaries to appear morally good.

 

Finally, she was now at the doors of the courtroom, where she would certainly face opposition to any innocent verdict. Not like they would have given her one anyway. Even from outside, she could hear the uproar and excitement for her trial.

“““Death to the Villainésse! Death to the Villainésse!”””

Yvette couldn't help but laugh a bit mockingly as her new title was being chanted.

Villainésse, a new made-up word in the Alscarrainian dictionary made specifically for Yvette, a brand that basically meant an enemy of the people, a sly  witch if anything.

 

While giggling eerily unheard as everyone was too busy chanting loudly to notice, her battered form was ushered into the courtroom itself. Alone, with no allies. The once lively discussion turned into an unnerving silence. The eyes of the jury members felt like daggers piercing her body. Yvette shuddered at the thought of the collections of uneducated peasants watching her every move, resembling prey being careful of a predator.

‘How did it come to this …?’  Yvette thought, standing before the judge and the jury assembled to prosecute her.

“We are gathered here today, to witness the trial of Yvette du Yulois, who has been arrested under the following charges …” A spokesman underneath a council of judges and lawyers gathered by the Republican Assembly started to speak, holding a long piece of paper

“Mass murder, embezzlement, assault …” He was basically listing every crime possible in the Alscarrainian dictionary, however what ticked her off the most was …

“... and finally, high treason!” Yvette couldn’t help but grit her teeth with what little strength she had left, enraged by the accusations, and by the flocks of sheep behind her who so easily ate them up.

“Do you, the defendant, Yvette du Yulois, have anything to say regarding the charges of the crimes you have committed?” The presiding judge spoke aloud.

Yvette’s heavily steel-shackled wrists struggled to move her overgrown and neglected white hair, once a proud symbol of the Yulois ducal family, to see the rabble in front of her.

“Do I have anything to say … you ask …?” She spoke slowly, her voice raspy and coarse as her throat ached from dehydration and being force-fed aura poisons to suppress her martial prowess throughout the course of years inside the dungeons.

‘They aren’t even trying anymore …’ Yvette thought as she looked hatefully at the spokesman speaking to her.

Isn't going through with a trial without a proper practitioner of law representing the defence, by nature, a crime? This shabby insult to the due process didn't even give her a lawyer in order to defend herself, much less a justification of the baseless accusations being spewed by this judge. So much for the "noble cause" this revolution was going toward.

“All … I have done … was for the good of the people and the Crown. It is you, filthy revolutionaries, who have brought this kingdom to ruin!” She shouted furiously, but quickly stopped to let her throat recover.

 

The jury could only gasp from surprise at this astounding outburst of hers. Who was she to rant and rave in the honourable halls of justice? How impudent.

“I was so close, so close to achieving reform that would have fixed this country. Alscarraine would have returned to its glory days, at the top of the world! Reform that all of you halfwit peasants–!” Her throat's condition was getting worse, but she did not care. She pressed on, but she was suddenly struck by the stock of one of the National Guard's batons from the back.

THUNK!

“You repulsive nobility! When will you learn that we are no longer your possessions, but now cutoiyen!?” The judge shouted, barking more insults at Yvette who was left gasping at her table from the blow.

Cutoiyen, that was what the revolutionaries had branded themselves over the course of the revolution, however Yvette couldn’t bother to care at all, as even if you put gold on top of pig excrement, it would still look and reek of the faeces it was.

“For the charges stated, this council finds Yvette du Yulois guilty as charged. She will be stripped of her title as Duchess of Yulois and her assets will be seized by the revolutionary government.” The judge finished.

‘These bastards …?’ Yvette thought for a moment that these people were slow in the head, as to the extent of her knowledge, her estate had already been ransacked, looted, and then burnt to the ground a long time ago, yet the sham went so far as to justify things they’ve already done a long time ago?

 

“Objection!” A shout suddenly erupted from one of the jury members.

 

“Isn't it unfair that this is the extent of her punishment? Didn't she conspire with the other nobles to use the Royal Guard to put a stop to our peaceful protests?” The jury member lied as naturally as he breathed.

 

“Yeah, that's right!” “Boo! She deserves worse!” “Is she even entitled to a trial?”

You are reading story Vive La Villainésse: Let Them Eat Cake! at novel35.com

“I did … no such thing …” Yvette weakly muttered. Her throat couldn't cooperate with her.

 

“What does the jury propose?” The judge asked.

“Burn her at the stake!” “Make her my personal slave!” “Torture!” Many such suggestions came up, however the jury assembled by the Republican Assembly murmured among themselves, however Yvette knew that it was merely a farce, and that there was but a single fixed outcome to this situation …

“We, the jury, propose that Yvette du Yulois be executed for standing against liberty. Death by GUILLOTINE!” Despite the jury member's gruesome remark, the jury, instead, cheered on with joy as he said this.

“To those who are in favour of overriding my verdict and accepting this proposal, please raise your hand.”

One by one, all of the jury members raised their hands. A perfect, 100% majority. Adding insult to injury by showing their "unity" through this sham of a vote.

It was decided from the start. The judge didn't even seem to care all that much. The cheers of the revolutionaries drowned out any second opinions, who had already started putting a potato sack on Yvette’s head and dragging her out before the jury even finished saying “Guillotine”, a sign of the loose discipline and authority that the Republican Assembly truly had.

“““Death to the monarchy! Long live the Revolution! Long live Alscarraine!””” The crowd chanted as she was dragged to the guillotine just outside the court building, neatly prepared, a terrifying foreshadowing for the future to come.

Blinded and after being thrown at by stones as she made her way past the masses of revolutionaries, hitting multiple parts of her body and drawing blood, she finally made it atop of the contraption that would be responsible for her death.

Her head was put inside the lunette of the guillotine, and after a quick prayer by a nearby revolutionary, one that Yvette herself could barely hear due to the near-deafening voices of the crowd, the signal was given, and the sound of the release handle could be heard.

It was at that moment, where the blade of the guillotine touched the top of her neck, that time seemed to flow ever so slowly, as her life flashed before her eyes, her training as an Aura Swordsmaster slowing the speed of her death as computed by her mind.

Was there anything differently she could have done? A definite yes.

Had she not put her trust in her fiance, the first prince of Alscarraine, who was simultaneously one of the largest opponents for her propositions of reform, maybe things wouldn’t have turned out the way they had as of that moment.

The blade started to touch her spine.

Maybe, if she were wiser, she could have avoided much more catastrophes, opened up better opportunities, and ultimately made better choices.

The flow of air had ceased.

Despite being so talented, she was ultimately hindered by her own narrow-sightedness, and in the end she would  meet a terrible end at the hands of pathetic revolutionaries under siege by all of Yuropea.

…

…

…

Or, would she …?

“HUAAAAAAAGH!?” Yvette screamed as she pushed past the weighted blanket that was covering her body, which was covered in cold sweat, as if she had just woken up from a horrible nightmare.

“This place …” Yvette immediately recognized the room she was in, which was adorned with blue and gold furnishings, filled with treasures that were supposed to be looted by both revolutionaries and confiscated by traitors of the royalist faction.

It was her own bedroom, at peak condition.

“What kind of joke is this …?” She questioned, thinking of it as a cruel ploy by God.

Her voice no longer had the coarse nature brought upon by having been consuming aura-blocking poisons and dehydration, restored to its normal condition.

“Young mistress!?” An old butler would burst forth from the regal double-doors, running alongside the double-bed that Yvette laid on.

Yvette stared at him, her eyes widening as she thought of every single possibility she could have been in as of that moment, however her heart swayed, leading her to say words that she didn’t intend to say out loud.

“You’re … supposed to be dead …?” She muttered under her breath as she looked at her servant whom she recognized with horror clearly printed throughout her face, at a level of sound that nobody could hear.

‘Is this the afterlife …?’ She couldn’t help but think for a bit, being interrupted by the old man’s worried voice.

“Young mistress, what are you talking about!? You just asked me to play with you yesterday!?” He worriedly asked Yvette, who was snapped back to reality as she spoke once more.

“Bring me a mirror this instant!” Yvette commanded, to which the servant immediately complied and brought forth a hand mirror, which she gripped with her soft and delicate hand, which was without flaws and the callouses that she had worked hard for, even whilst knowing that it would set back her reputation as a lady for a bit.

She looked towards the mirror, and sure enough, it revealed the stunning beauty on her face as the rays of the sun reflected off of her near-divine appearance, untouched by the rubbish issues such as the lack of hygiene, as it looked to be carefully kept under strict management by yours truly, however there was one small issue …

… it was that she looked to be way younger than what she was supposed to be when she was executed.

“I’m … back in the past?”

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