Getting there!
…
He awoke, which was promising. It was even on a cot, which was better. Best of all, a careful attempt to sit up revealed that he could move freely, without fetter or chains. But as Joseph lifted his left arm to rub his face, he saw there was now a bracelet of fée make around it. That would be a better check on his movements than every manacle and restraint in the world. The more so because he knew perfectly well what would happen if he violated whatever the rules were for his confinement.
Accordingly, Joseph sat on the edge of the bed, and waited. He wasn’t sure exactly for what, but presumably it wouldn’t be immediately fatal. If the rebels wanted him dead, he would already be dead. That thought was less comforting than it could have been; after all, they may not have wanted him dead right away.
His first visitor arrived ten minutes later, and it was… Berthier. Berthier was wearing neither a bracelet nor Revolutionary cockade, but did carry a sword. A rank amateur could discern the current situation from that, and Joseph saw no advantage in pretending ignorance. “I see that the battle was lost,” he said, trying for ‘somber’ but not ‘angry.’ “And quite thoroughly… ah…”
“A simple ‘General’ will do, Citizen Fouché. Although you may also safely slip, and use the Revolutionary term. The King is actually quite taken with many of the ideals of the Revolution.” Berthier’s lips quirked. “Or at least the Queen is, and the King heeds her counsel.”
