"Warriors of Orléans!
From June 15 until now, the people of Sélestat have held out for a full seventeen days! Are the endless Ash Wasteland we crossed to get here and the ruins before our eyes not proof enough of their loyalty?
I've been here before. Sélestat was once a city brimming with life and hope, but now it has been shrouded in fear and despair.
This great city is in desperate need of help. We didn't travel thousands of miles from every direction just to stand around and watch, much less for beer and sausages!"
Fanny Cotte glared angrily once more in Franz's direction. He speared a piece of pork chop and waved it twice, then raised his coffee cup to toast her.
As expected, if the person being alluded to wasn't angry, then it was the one doing the alluding who was.
Fanny Cotte's brows drew together, her teeth clenched. The corners of her mouth dipped, and a hint of determination touched her full red lips. She leaned forward slightly, as though a fire were burning in her chest.
"The rebels' atrocities will be punished! Every invader will pay for what they have done!
We must tell the people of Sélestat that they are not alone. We will be the gleaming sword that pierces this endless darkness and brings them hope."
With a clang, Fanny Cotte drew her saber and shouted.
"Justice and courage are with us! For New Orleans! Forward!"
At the words "For New Orleans," Franz nearly lost his composure. He couldn't help admiring her, too.
She really is the hostess of the Paris Grand Salon. At least she didn't lose her nerve.
But the House of Orléans' hastily cobbled-together force was far from impressive. The soldiers' weapons were all different, and so were their uniforms.