January 5th, 1800

The days passed slowly since his return to his homeland. Francis' pain was still intense, and his leg hadn't healed fully, but with Laura's help, the infection was gone. He hadn't uttered a word to her about it, but the truth was that he'd been in agony ever since he got injured. Now, at last, he felt better.

Him and Camille helped Achille get settled down on his new home. His accommodation wasn't very big in size and the furniture inside was minimal, but the man was thankful for it anyway. Having a roof over his head after years of hopeless wander, having the sky as his blanket and the pavement as his bed, was a blessing. And the grenadier knew that life usually didn't grant those often.

Laupin also helped him get readmitted in the armed forces, although now he'd work in the national guard, as a drill sergeant and instructor. Even if Achilles couldn't fight in the battlefield anymore, he still could pass his experience on, through teaching. His skills were still useful.

And it was by seeing his amazing progress that, shortly after the new year festivities were done, Laura decided to speak to Francis about an idea she'd had a few months ago, but never had the chance of bringing to life:

—I want to rebuild the Dubois Palace, and turn it into a provisory home for army veterans —she said out of nowhere, as they ate their dinner alone, in the dining room of their home.

—What? —Francis lowered his fork, as his eyes grew in size and his mouth dropped.

—I've been thinking about this for a while now. I want to use my wealth to help people. Do what I never could while I still was a Duchess... I was allowed by the law to keep my fortune, and inherited Alphonse's, but... I've come to realize that I don't need it. Not all of it, at least. And I've spent my days here in Lievre contemplating what I should do with all of this money, without really finding an answer... until I met Achille. And I began to take notice of how many veterans and wounded soldiers are living in the streets, as beggars. They served this country... they deserve to be cared for.

—I agree, but you have to keep in mind that many of these men, they aren't good people —Francis replied, with total seriousness—. I've seen them on and off the battlefield... And you'd be surprised to witness the level of depravity of some of them...

—Bad people deserve to be cared for too.

—I don't know if I agree with that statement.

—Don't you think everyone deserves a second chance?

—No —Francis was quick to answer—. I've seen enough to know that... some don't. I know that your heart is kind, and that you are a compassionate woman by nature, but... this is not a good idea.

—Then what should we do? Keep the streets of this city filled with souls that have nowhere else to go? Souls like Achille?

The general looked down at his plates, ran his tongue over his teeth, and continued eating. Then, noticing that Laura still was waiting for his reply, he said:

—If you want to help veterans, open a hospital for those who have become handicapped because of the war, and need to learn how to regain their inner strength and their independence. But don't open the doors of a palace and let all kinds of bullies, thieves, rapists, and ruthless murderers in. That's not wise.

—A hospital?... —she seemed interested in the counterproposal—. That could work as well.

—There you go. I'd support you with that —Francis nodded, but still refused to look at her.

Until he felt her hand grab his, before he could continue eating. Then, his clear eyes found Laura's.

—What exactly did you see, out there? You wrote about some of it in the letters you sent me, and we've spoken briefly about it, but...

—You want to know more.

—I do. You haven't really spoken about everything you went through, before and during your last campaign. And I understand how isolating it can be, to keep all of your horrible memories locked inside, for such a long period of time. I haven't gone through what you have, of course, but...

—You were Alphonse's wife. You went through worse —Francis replied, with respect and admiration—. It's true, you haven't seen what I have... But you've also gone through things I can't even imagine. And that's why I know that I can trust you with my memories... It's just that... —he sighed—. It's hard to put everything into words. The things I have seen are... despicable. But what terrifies me the most are the things which I've done... And the truth is, I don't want you to hear those tales of horror and think differently of me, although I know you will.

—Francis... Whatever it is you've done, I want to know. I need to know. Because if one day the Directory, for example, tries to persecute you for one of your actions, and I don't know how to defend you, you'll be in danger. I don't want to force you to speak. But I'm worried.

The general heard her words and nodded. He finished eating, looked at her, and stood up from his chair.

—Let's get this cleaned up... and I'll try... —he sighed again—. I'll try to tell you everything, at once.

---

Francis' tale began the day he rode into Alvern and found the city in ruins. He spoke of the fire and brimstone, of the burnt bodies, the fallen buildings, and the deafening silence with a clarity and sincerity that left Laura speechless.

He then proceeded to speak about his loss of reason during the battle of Norville, and the capture of the Great Reduit.

—I almost murdered a child —he mumbled, and blinked, as he replayed that horrifying moment in his mind—. Laupin stopped me... But if he hadn't, I'd... —tears fell down his face.

Francis didn't wipe them. He just kept going.

He told her about the mass graves they were forced to dig on the countryside, and where they threw the endless bodies of the deceased royalists. He told her about the torture they'd inflict over the surviving one. He told her about the burning of houses and buildings. He told her about the animalistic behavior of his colleagues, and their assault of women during their campaigns. He told her about the orphan children he'd found along the way, about the injured civilians, about the hopeless elders, about the vengeful teens, about... well, everything.

The day he was almost blown to pieces along with a ship whilst trying to protect Saphir's island. His time locked up in the Varenne's prison. His weeks walking through the Harmanian wilderness, nearly freezing and starving to death.

All of it. And for the first time, he didn't skip any details. He didn't try to hide things which for sure would make him look bad.

Laura was quiet during all of it.

—... And that is all. I came back home. I lived —Francis ended his tale by grimacing, disgusted by his own behavior.

He knew there was a lot of things he had to do. Orders, given by superiors, that did not allow space for choice. But he was also able to recognize that some of his wrongdoings were optional. Some of his killings were unnecessary, fueled only by rage and by his own desire of revenge.

—You did what you had to do to survive —the woman finally spoke, and when she did so, it was with a cold and matter-of-fact attitude. She was, despite her caring nature, the most logical mind of the two, after all—. And that includes surviving your own mind. From what you say, you were devastated when you found out that the Suzannets were killed, and when you believed I'd been as well. You lost sight of reason. Therefore, your choices, even if wrong and cruel to some... they seem perfectly reasonable to me. I don't see you any differently than I did yesterday.

—Laura... I almost killed a kid.

—I'm not saying that your behavior was right. I'm saying it's understandable... You were at war. You lost your family. The woman you love... Everything you were fighting for was suddenly ripped from you. You weren't really thinking "that's a child", you were think "that's my enemy"... Or am I wrong?

—No, but...

—You're allowed to feel remorseful. You are allowed to feel downcast. But this is what it is. Mentally punishing yourself for something you can't change is useless. Don't focus so much on what you've done, but on what you can still do —she grabbed his hands and kissed his knuckles—. Thank you for telling me your story. I appreciate your honesty and your vulnerability immensely. But please believe me when I say it: I do not think less of you because of it.

—Do you still love me? —he dared to asked, with a low and unsteady voice—. That's all I need to know.

Laura leaned towards him and kissed the side of his head.

—Of course I do my darling. I wouldn't be me if I didn't.