Liberté

Ability is nothing without opportunity- Napoleon Bonaparte

    "Come on, Jean! This is ridiculous!"

"Buck off, Thibaut, you old mare! I'll come out when I'm good and ready!"

"Yes sir, Captain sir." A voice sniggered from outside. Jean d'Albert rolled his eyes, turned his head away from the door and scrutinised his reflection for the third time. The deep blue uniform customary of the Prench army fitted comfortably around his wiry, slender frame, with the tailor made precision and attention to detail that singled him out as an officer. A newly applied badge on his left breast showed that he was, specifically, a captain. A fact that Jean still wasn't quite used to. With Thibaut yelling it from every single rooftop in Mareseilles, it's something I'm unlikely to forget Jean thought to himself, allowing a his lips to curl into a small smile. Abruptly, it disappeared as he noticed he had a small sliver of lettuce stuck in his teeth. He grumbled as a pale grey aura engulfed his horn, levitating a toothpick from the room's cabinet. After making sure that the offending green sliver was removed, his azure coloured eyes stoically continued their inspection. His charcoal grey fur was sufficiently clean and smooth, his hooves were buffed and shined to near perfection, his pale, white mane was tidy, his horn fine and the mark on his flank, a lance crossed by a trumpet, was visible in case he had to confirm his identity for whatever reason. Satisfied, he smiled and turned towards the door. He felt bad about keeping his old friend waiting, but if Thibaut Beauchene was anything at all, he was understanding.

       Jean hadn't seen Thibaut for a number of months, as while he'd been campaigning against the Gryphons on Equestria's north western frontier, his childhood friend had began work as a Lawyer in the Crown Courts, dealing with claims that ranged from minor grievances such as slander, to more serious, gruesome offences. With half the city at each other's throats these days, he must have his work cut out for him Jean thought with a wince, as he neared the exit. With regular riots, an increase in gang activity and the worsening poverty, crime had sky rocketed. Which, partly, was why he was here. The urban guard had proven to be worryingly inept and was more concerned with beating the living shit out of anyone who so much as looked at them shiftily than in actually keeping the peace. This, understandably, had only worsened things, and as a result the army had been called in. Not that he was complaining, of course. He had the next week signed off for leave, so he could catch up with his friends and family. All of which wanted to celebrate his promotion, though in totally different ways. Whereas his mother and father had planned a masked ball at their home in the country, where any noblepony worth their salt would attend, Thibault had arranged for the two of them to meet with some other friends of theirs and get absolutely hammered in the various bars and pubs in the Old Port district. A prospect that, after months of strict discipline, Jean relished.

       The lock whined and the door creaked as Jean pulled it open with his magic, his gaze meeting that of the maroon pegasus that stood outside. Thibaut had opted to wear a reasonably well tailored suit, which bulged ever so slightly at his midriff. I guess desk work doesn't exactly give you an athletic physique Jean concluded to himself. His friend's blue mane was unkempt as usual, and his hooves were speckled with mud from the street. Good thing this isn't the regiment, or Sargent Rothiere would be having a fit Jean thought to himself; the idea of the young lawyer getting chewed out by the stocky drill instructor that had been the bane of Jean's existence during his six months of officer training brought a grin to his face.

"Hey, Cap, see something amusing?" Thibaut enquired, raising an eyebrow.

"Huh?" Jean asked, being dragged from his thoughts.

"See something funny?"

"Nah, I was just thinking about something."

"You always are, egghead." Thibaut said, grinning and nudging his friend in the ribs.

"Says the lawyer to the soldier" Jean deadpanned.

"Yeah, well I'm not the one that spends their evenings reading Coltaire"

"You should, the enlightenment movement really is quite fascinating..."

"Suuure it is" Thibaut  interrupted with a smirk. "And as much as I'd 'love' to discuss it with you, we're going to be late."

"Why? When are we due to meet the others?"

"In Half an hour."

"Shit, really?"

"Yep" Thibaut stated simply.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Jean snapped.

"I did, you dozy bastard! But you had to spend about six months getting yourself ready! And you don't even have wings to preen" Thibaut retorted sharply.

"Ugh, ok, I'll admit, I went a little over the top." Jean conceded.

"A little? Its the pubs by the docks, not bucking Canterlot Castle" Thibaut chuckled, "And if we see princess Celestia in The Drunken Goat, I will be surprised."

Jean laughed; he laughed more than he probably should have, but there was no way of describing how much he needed this after the last few months. And after that patrol... a traitorous thought seemed to whisper in the back of his mind; a train of thought that he promptly halted. Just a chance to enjoy himself and relax, that's exactly what he needed. Even if it was only for a week, it was well worth the wait.

"Yeah, well if she was there she wouldn't be interested in your sorry arse."

Now it was Thibaut's turn to laugh. "Hey, all the mares like this suit!"

"Yeah, I bet your mother thinks you're very handsome."

"Yours certainly did."

"Behave."

"Sorry."

"Just for that, the first round's on you."

"Funny that, so was your mum."

Jean laughed again. Hardly becoming of an officer to laugh at such crude humour he thought but hey, I'm off duty. The two friends talked and joked as they headed down the inn's  staircase and into the tavern below. Jean nodded politely to the innkeeper who stood behind the bar, the earth pony returning the gesture with a smile. Thibaut, on the other hoof, winked at a pale green unicorn who was busy using her magic to clear one of the tables. She simply rolled her eyes and turned to walk towards the kitchens, a stack of trays levitating out in front of her. Thibaut's rejection drew another chuckle from Jean as the two stepped through the double doors and into the street beyond.

The evening was unseasonably cold, even for November, and as a result the two stallions shivered noticeably as they stepped away from the inn and it's warmth. The streets were dark, save for the gas lamps on either side that cast a pale, almost anaemic glow over the eerily quiet rows of terraced houses, punctuated by the occasional bakery or store. As the two walked, Jean noticed that one of the pâtisseries had been looted. The glass of it's front window had been smashed inwards by the bench which now lay on it's side behind the counter, its frame  oddly reminiscent of a wooden skeleton. Various obscenities had been written on the walls in paint, mud and Celestia knows what else, as well as drawings that ranged from satirical depictions of the Prench king, Francis VII, to material that was down right pornographic. On closer inspection, Jean noticed that the looters had taken everything that wasn't nailed down, and then returned with tools for anything that was.                                                                                                                                                                                                                          "This is terrible, Thib." Jean whispered, shaking his head in disgust. "These ponies...they've been completely ruined."

"They're the lucky ones." Thibaut said quietly.

Jean turned to him, a surprised look on his face. "How do you mean? How could THIS be lucky?"

"Last week we had a baker who'd been accused of hoarding away bread so he could sell it when the prices went up again and make a killing." Thibaut explained, a growing look of discomfort manifesting on his usually happy face. "The ponies in his area were starving, and when they heard that someone was holding out on them in order to make a profit, they weren't exactly happy."

"What happened?" Jean inquired, wary of the sickened look on his friend's face.

"They dragged him out of his shop, beat him within an inch of his life, then lynched him from a nearby tree. His wife and kids too."

Jean was at a loss for words. He knew that things were bad in the city, but this...

"What about the guards? Did they catch the ones who did it?" Jean felt anger bubbling in his chest. The baker had it coming. He reasoned. But his wife? His children? What had THEY done to deserve that?

"Buck all that's what." Thibaut snorted, some of his usual smart arsedness returning. "They decided to just leave it. Hell, they only took the bodies down when they started to rot."

Jean felt his stomach turn violently, as unbidden memories flooded back to him; Rain. It was raining. It was raining when they came...

"Jean? You ok buddy?" Thibaut asked, trying to keep the hint of concern from his voice. He failed.

"What? Yeah, I'm fine." Jean said shakily, a lost expression on his face. Almost as though he had momentarily forgotten where he was. Again, it happened again.

"Glad to hear." Thibaut stated, not entirely convinced. "You sure you don't want to go back to your room for a couple of quiet drinks? Don't want you slowing us down if you're ill" Thibaut said, smiling and giving him a wink.

"Buck no!" Jean stated, grinning as some of his old confidence returned "I'm not letting you drag me out into the cold for nothing." That, and Jean wasn't exactly eager to return to his room for two reasons. Firstly, the room was not only a let down, it was almost unfit for habitation, and every second he spent away from the place was a relief. Secondly, that would mean, inevitably, that he'd be left alone with his thoughts, something he wasn't going to experience under any circumstances, especially after his previous "episode".

"Fair enough" Thibaut said, relieved that Jean seemed ok after all.

       The two resumed walking at a brisk pace and left the bakery behind them. After a while of walking in silence, Jean spoke up:

"So who exactly are we meeting tonight?" He asked.

"Oh you'll see." Thibaut replied.

Jean's curiosity was piqued. "Come on Thib, spill."

"Nuh uh." Thibaut replied, struggling to keep a grin from forming on his face.

"Come on!"

"No, it'll ruin the surprise!"

"Ugh, fine." Jean said dejectedly, his shoulders sagging slightly. "Can you at least give me one name?"

"No can do." Thibaut said firmly

"You're impossible!" Jean yelled, struggling to keep back the laughter threatening to brake free of his chest.

Thibaut chuckled. "Soo..." he added after a moment, "...spoken to Maria yet?" he asked with a sly wink.

"Unfortunately no." Jean answered sadly, "but we're going out for dinner tomorrow night."

"Where?"

"Gaston's."

"Fancy. You know, in a romantic environment like that, it might be a good idea to ask a certain somepony a certain important question..." Thibaut added slyly.

"What question?" Jean asked uncertainly.

"Well, when two ponies love each other very much..."

"Thib..." Jean interrupted in a slightly embarrassed tone, "We've already...You know..."

"I meant propose to her!" Thibaut responed. "For Celestia's sake, get your mind out of the gutter! You soldiers are all the same" he added in mock horror and disgust.

"Oh, right." Jean said, almost ignoring his friend's comedic outburst "You know Thib, that's not a bad idea."

"Huh, try not to sound too surprised" Thibaut replied, sticking out his tongue.

"Yeah, I guess there really is a first time for everything."

"Hey! I'm hurt" Thibaut stated, wiping an imaginary tear from his eye.

"You should be, it's depressing."

"It's a good thing I like you Captain Jean d'Albert" Thibaut started "Or else you'd end up in the Chateau de Saint Thomas."

"As if." Jean replied, grinning broadly "You're just lucky that they can't arrest you for being bucking stupid".

The two friends laughed. They laughed as though the world and all it's problems didn't apply to them. As though they were untouchable; if somepony was going to suffer, it wasn't going to be them; if somepony died, they'd be the ones doing the burying, not lying in the ground.

How wrong they were.