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*noblesse oblige: a duty coined in the 19 th century to refer to French noblemen’s duty to help the less fortunate
All of a sudden, gone was the jolly, perhaps a little pushy, but well-meaning uncle. Now, all Lyney could see was the predatory quirk of his lips, the apathetic void in his eyes, and the plumpness in his cheeks and belly, only achieved by a disgustingly infinite excess of riches.
Riches, it appears, that he maintains even after exploiting innocent children on the street, tricking them into his gingerbread home with sickly sweet promises of bedtime stories and hearty meals. Even after whipping his servants until they have to limp when doing their chores. Even after selling little girls to smarmy, sticky-fingered pigs.
“You’ll be able to do your tricks, no matter who your assistant is, no?”
A deadly chill had run down Lyney’s spine upon hearing those words. Lyney lurched backward. His eyes bulged dangerously out of his head, “You-!”
“Ah-ah, don’t get yourself all worked up now,” he clucked his tongue, giving Lyney a deceptively gentle grin. “You still have those tricks to show to Mr Benoit early tomorrow morning!”
Lyney felt like the world was tipping sideways. His head was spinning and the words ‘Lynette, gone, forever’ pounded out in his head incessantly like a litany. How could he have been so blind? Of course. Of course, Lynette was never coming back. The noble had never hidden his favour for Lyney, always treating Lynette as a repugnant tumour clinging onto his precious golden goose. It was all so clear now. He should have known the second Lynette had been whisked away from him. He should have known the second he entered that damned party. How could he have missed it?
Lyney took a deep breath. He pulled his lips back into a mockery of a smile.
“Ah yes, the wine tycoon owner, was it? Fret not, sire, for I am always prepared.” Lyney then gave a disgusting ninety-degree bow , as if he was something inferior to that excuse for a human being.
He swiftly pushed open the large wooden doors and stormed out into the bright hallway, hiding his silent fury as well as he could – which was admittedly, not all that well. Lyney only counted his lucky stars that most of the household staff had already retired for the night.
Less insects to swat before rescuing his family.
The only family he had left.
_____
Lynette was no fool. She was a child, yes. But, she was no stranger to the cruelties of the streets. Being young meant that you were kicked around a lot. Children are weak. Being young and strong meant that you were coerced into a low-paying job, akin to slave labour. Children are pliable. Being a boy meant that you were more likely to be adopted by a noble family out of noblesse oblige*. Stray boys are useful charity projects.
Being a girl meant that you were more likely to be kidnapped, to be sold to a noble family. Stray girls are useful for being groomed into making heirs.
Lynette knew this, had internalised it over the years by learning from example. So, this meant that when she found herself in a cramped, dark, and humid room, filled with around twenty other girls in various states of undress…
Well, she was less surprised and upset and more…triumphant at being validated. “ See,” she thought. “ I was not wrong, I knew that this would happen .”
Normally, she would have been somewhat prepared for this type of situation. However, Lynette never expected that they would be bold enough to sneak her away from Lyney’s side during a magic show. She’d believed that the audience would be much too concentrated on the pair of magicians, that if anything were to happen, surely , it wouldn’t be during a show?
Technically, she wasn’t wrong. They’d taken her only shortly after the show ended, while Lyney was temporarily distracted by some pudgy-looking nobleman who had a champagne glass practically glued to his lips.
Lynette scanned the room stuffed full of dead-eyed girls, many staring into space – dreaming of another life, perhaps. She spotted a red-haired girl whose eyes shone slightly brighter than the rest. She’d been the first one to acknowledge Lynette, though she had immediately turned her eyes back to the dreary grey walls of their cell. Lynette allowed a small hope to bloom in her chest. She was at least a little bit reticent of her situation, not yet quite as gone in their heads as the others. Maybe she knew something.
Lynette bent down at her side, urging the teenager to look over at the new arrival. “What is this place? How do we get ou-“ The girl immediately clamped her dirty fingers over Lynette’s mouth, her green eyes suddenly blown open with fear. Ah, Lynette had forgotten. New turf, new rules.
“ Don’t finish that sentence. Just don’t. I’ve… We’ve long given up,” The red-haired teenager hissed.
The red-haired teenager slumped back to lean against the wall again. She gave a shuddering sigh, thumping her head against the wall with all the lethargy of a frail 90-year-old on their deathbed.
Lynette paused, carefully calculating her next words. However, she was abruptly caught off by the prison doors shrieking open. There was an angry-looking man looming in the entrance, watching the rest of the girls arise from their stupor as if summoned by the sound.
Lynette rolled her shoulders, readying her mind. “ Just like the streets,” Lynette told herself. “Just like the streets.”
___
“This is not just like the streets,” Lyney reminded himself.
Fighting with fellow rats in the cold, darkened alleys of Fontaine is nothing compared to the trained movements of the guards patrolling the Bombard estate. He couldn’t get cocky. Lyney wouldn’t be able to stamp down the pride of the wealthy nobles and their goons. Unlike previously, he couldn’t crush their fingers beneath his unforgiving heel for even daring to look wrong at him or his sister. That was one of the few things he missed from leaving that life behind.
No, this would require a more delicate approach. Lyney smirked. Let it never be said that he is incapable of adapting, for a magician must always be in flux to stay on top of their game. Unfortunately, his hands didn’t seem to get the memo. They were trembling.
Lyney ducked in and out of passageways, taking advantage of his small stature to hide in darkly lit crannies scattered along the marbled halls. He prayed to Celestia that he was truly as silent as he’d hoped. Every little movement made a soft rustle and Lyney feared that he was more akin to an elephant in a room full of china.
Creeping along the side of a wall, he turned a corner to observe the guard at the end of the hallway. The man was armed to the nines, fully decked out with a gun and a few knives brandished on his utility belt. Lyney tensed at the sight. Just as the guard started to move away, Lyney relaxed marginally. He backed away from the corner to lean slightly against the wall-
- causing it to make a traitorous squeak. The guard suddenly whipped around, catching Lyney’s eyes. He cursed . The boy turned tail and scrambled backward, only managing to take a few steps before being tackled to the ground by a heavy weight. Lyney yelped at his hair being viciously pulled and the room before him blurred as his head was slammed into the floor several times.
He then yanked Lyney up by the neck, hands tightening around his throat like a vice. Lyney gasped for air that would never come and dark spots quickly overtook his vision. He clawed desperately at the man’s hands, arms, and eyes - scratching them to hell and back.
“No, this is not how I am going to die! Lynette is still-”
The sharpened points of his fingernails did nothing to deter the man, who sank a knife into Lyney’s leg. He cried out. Pain travelled up his leg and Lyney tasted blood from biting back his cries of anguish. Angry tears pricked at the edge of his eyes. How useless. A brother who couldn’t even protect his little sister. A red-hot flash of self-resentment coursed through him.
All of a sudden, the oppressive weight was lifted off of him and Lyney wheezed as sweet air rushed into his lungs.
Before him, the moonlight shone upon a regal-looking woman, clad in a black suit with grey accents. The clothing was dark enough to be hidden in the night, though it left all of her identifying features exposed. Lyney frowned. Either this woman was a staff of the mansion, and Lyney was going to die in that marbled corridor – or she was an intruder like him, and simply didn’t care for her identity being revealed.
His questions were swiftly answered by the lifeless body of the guard beneath her feet. Her eyes narrowed in distaste at the sight, bending down to clean the blood off her sword using the clean parts of the guard’s jacket.
“Who are you?” Lyney sputtered, his hand cradling his abused throat. He hissed. That was definitely going to leave a mark.
The stoic woman cast a moment’s glance at him before returning her razor-sharp attention back to her blade. “Not your enemy. Are you here for a cat-eared girl, perchance?”
Lyney stiffened, his eyes widening slightly.
“I am the Knave, a member of the Fatui. I have come to rescue the prisoners and destroy this estate. I recommend that you leave before this goal is achieved.”
Lyney’s brain skidded to a halt. “Prisoners?” He thought. As in, plural?
Lyney swore. How deep did this whole operation go? How badly have they hurt his sister? A wave of anger washed over him, and he turned his ice-cold gaze upon the lady before him.
“Let me help,” he asked, though it was more like a plea.
The lady cocked her head, surveying him from head to toe. “What help could you offer me? You are but a child, and you don’t seem to have much meat on your bones at that. Do you even have any value in a fight?” She chuckled quietly.
Lyney paused. Was this a trick? She seemed to be examining him with her gaze, so was this a test? If so, then for what? He shook his head. He was wasting time. He needed this woman’s help and he needed it two days ago.
“No, I cannot currently hold a candle to your own fighting prowess.” The woman raised her eyebrows. “However, I can offer you my future services as a magician. My benefactor, Monsieur Gauthier, uses me to get invites to prestigious events. I’ve stolen, lied, cheated for him before. I can do it again.”
Lyney’s head then snapped up to look her straight in the eyes, surging onward with a renewed vigour. He continued, “In fact, I can do even more. I’m a quick learner, and I’ve made people bleed for my goals. I can make them bleed for yours.” His eyes sparked with a flame and he plastered a saccharine sweet, yet bloodthirsty smile on his face.
She paused, then stalked away towards the end of the hall. Lyney stood there for a few moments, blankly.
Lyney deflated, feeling all his bravado from before quickly slip away. He scrunched his eyes, disappointment dropping into his stomach like a boulder. He just wanted to help save his sister. He…it was his duty as a big brother. Without that…was he even worthy of anything?
Lyney then realised that the sound of the woman’s footsteps had stopped echoing in the empty corridors. He looked up. The woman looked at him with crossed arms and an unspoken question in her eyes. Are you coming?
The grin quickly returned to Lyney’s face as he stole a dagger off of the guard’s belt.