August 14th - August 17th, 1799

The trial of the former Duke of Alvern was held in the Plaidier Palace —where the Directory and the National Convention were stablished, and where they still worked together as a unit, to the day—.

The person in charge of Alphonse's fate wasn't a judge. It was, in fact, one of the members of said Directory. A good friend of general Obermann, and a former general himself: Louis Rousse.

Rousse had a short stature and feeble body, but was known for his big temper and his colossal hatred for the monarchy. In simpler words: Alphonse was set up for failure from the get-go.

Francis was sitting next to Laura in one of the front seats of the "reunion chamber" —a room where the National Convention representatives met up daily to discuss and pass legislation—. That day, most of the members were present for the trial. The Duke had many political enemies amongst the politicians, and they all wanted to see the man go down.

As Rousse read the charges against Alphonse out loud, Francis held Laura's hand tightly. Her eyes were burning holes into the back of the Duke's head, and her face had turned so pale she looked sick. The commander understood why. She'd gone through a whole decade of abuse under that monster's reign. Seeing him again, even if in shackles, was terrifying.

—It will be over soon —Francis whispered, and caressed the back of her hand with his thumb.

—I know —she said, but did not look back at him.

Rousse and his assistant, a young man called Alfred Blanc, took turns questioning the actions of the Duke, and his involvement with the remaining royalist forces.

—I was fighting for the good of my people. I wasn't defending any monarchs...

—Liar! —someone screamed from the back of the room.

And although Rousse asked for the public to remain quiet, he couldn't help himself, he smiled. He knew Alphonse was trying to save face, and paint himself as a selfless hero. But the truth was, he did care for the monarchy. He was a Duke, after all. He didn't want to lose his title, his fortune, and his power. And despite the fact that the King and him were never really close... they still were brothers.

Therefore, although Rousse did listen to the man's dramatic speech, and really tried to pay attention to his horrible acting skills and his nearly blasphemous plead of innocence, he already knew what his sentencing would be from the start:

—Alphonse Marie Dubois, for the crimes of tyranny, greed, manslaughter, unjustified violence, and for opposing the rise of the republic, I, the representative appointed by the Directory to investigate your crimes and your unlawful actions, condemned you to death by hanging. The date of your execution will be August 17th, 1799. Exactly three days from now. Until then, you'll remain locked in the prison of...

—THIS IS RIDICULOUS! —the accused stood up from his chair and roared—. I AM A DUKE! I HAVE ROYAL BLOOD COURSING THROUGH MY VEINS AND YET I AM TREATED AS IF I WERE A COMMONER! LIKE A SOILED, DIRTY SCOUNDREL LIKE YOU! —he kept shouting, with a mix of disbelief and anger—. IF ANYTHING, I SHOULD BE EXILED! WHAT HAVE I DONE THAT IS SO GRAVE AND UNFORGIVABLE YOU DEEM CORRECT TO MURDER ME?!

Laura, growing tired of Alphonse's fit, stood up. All around her, the men in the room tensed, and began to whisper amongst themselves.

—You abused your wife, who you swore to love and protect before the Lord's very eyes. You humiliated your servants, tortured your slaves, spat on the poor and stepped on the miserable —as she spoke, loud and clear despite her fear, the Duke began to turn around. He looked shocked, both to see her there, alive, and to hear her shut down all of his childish arguments—. You had enough power, influence and wealth in your hands to save every orphan in Alvern from starvation, and yet, you spent it all redecorating your summer castle in Montpierre, and buying new weapons to go out hunting with your friends...

—How dare you to betray me, Laura?...

—How dared you to hit me every day, until I couldn't breathe? —she bit back, switching her uneasiness with anger—. How dared you to write to the Ruhm empire and demand that the whole town of Alvern was burned to the ground?!

—YOU CHEATED ON ME! WITH THAT MAN! —Alphonse ignored her words and pointed furiously to Francis.

—You already have been damned by five different charges, are you really willing to gain another one? Because if you think that by slandering me you'll gain all of these gentlemen's sympathies, you're wrong.

—Madam, please, sit down —Rousse asked, but the damage created by Laura was already done.

If there was a single doubt that the Duke deserved to die before she spoke up, there was none now. And that's precisely why Rousse allowed her to argue with him for so long, instead of shutting her up immediately. He wanted the woman to drag Alphonse's name through the mud.

The trick worked, and soon, the Duke was shackled and dragged away, to a cell where he'd spend the last few hours of his pathetic life crying for an absolution that he'd never receive, and for a second chance he did nothing to deserve.

Three days later, his body would be seen hanging in front of the very same building where he'd been judged and condemned.

Francis and Laura weren't there for the execution itself, but they did drop by to witness the aftermath in person, and to watch how his carcass swayed in the wind, like the dead leaf of a tree, barely hanging onto its branch.

Neither could say they felt particularly sorry for him.

But both could admit that they were glad that that awful man was finally gone from their lives.

This time, forever.