With ropes they found in the carriage, Montcourt, Tomas, and Mike hung the twelve police officers from roadside trees by their ankles. They swayed and creaked in the wind like foul fruits among the branches. Then Montcourt nailed a sign to one of the trees from which a body dangled.

“ROAD CLOSED.”

French military tents covered a huge swath of ground, standing amid trees along an icy river and across a portion of pastureland, creating a city of its own. Thousands of soldiers relaxed before fires, walked with one another, talking of battles and loved ones left behind.

Inside the largest tent sat a table on which papers bearing the most recent war plans were unrolled. Philippe stood with his feet planted apart slightly, his face flushed and his soul empowered by war and all it had asked of him.

“Here.” Philippe spoke to War Minister Louvois as Rohan looked on. “If we pulled our line back into this valley –”

Louvois, dressed in an elegant velvet jacket with decorations indicating his superior rank, held up his hand. “They would follow our retreat,” he said.

“Allowing our cavalry to ride in from the east, closing the circle. They’d have nowhere to run.”

Louvois considered this then nodded in agreement.

There was a shout outside. “The King!”

Philippe turned from the table, his chest swelling with pride. Now my brother will see all I’ve done and plan to do for France.

The tent flap opened and Louis walked in, followed by several guards, Henriette, and Sophie. He strode to the table as Louvois bowed and Philippe smiled.

“Wonderful news, brother–” Philippe began.

“Indeed,” Louis interrupted. “The war is over. Negotiations for a ceasefire are to begin this day at Tournai.”

Philippe’s mouth opened then closed. Shocked, he glanced at Louvois, at Rohan, and then back at his brother. “But we’ve battled hard for this moment! Many men have died to attain it!”

“We will maintain our line,” said the King. “But no more. In a day, perhaps two. But this war is over.”

Anger stirred in Philippe’s arms. His fists drew together and his jaw clenched. “For what? We can win the war. Here. Today.”

“The odds are not with us.”

“We’ve lost too much to stop now!”

Louis maintained a countenance of calm. “I would speak to my brother alone,” he ordered. He nodded at a guard who pulled back the tent flap and all within exited, leaving the brothers alone.

“I’m here to bring you home,” said Louis.

“And I am here to fight. And fuck. This ceasefire, I am wondering, will it just so happen to be announced on your return with ‘All hail King Louis, who went to war and won the peace’?”

Louis stepped closer to his brother. Philippe did not step back. Eye to eye, King and Warrior.