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Louis watched in dismay as the greasy little man
counted out the miserably small sum of money. While it was a lot less than his
fine gelding had been worth, he had felt that it would have been beneath his
dignity to haggle. Despite his current situation he reminded himself that he was
the son of a Viscomte and a refined gentleman of breeding.
Thinking of his father, Louis couldn't help but
feel his anger rise. The man was such a fool. The latest blunder had been
investing the bulk of the family fortunes in Financial bonds shortly before the
escalation in the conflict with Spain. All their dreams shattered when a
cannonball destroyed the shipment of venetian glassware. On top of this, their
shipment of tomato wine had mysteriously vanished in the confusion at the front.
As a consequence of this Louis had been left with
nothing. Only the clothes he wore, the sword by his side and now the pittance he
had received for his horse.
Louis corrected himself. He also had his honour and
the vow he had made that his fortune and his name would one day be known
throughout France.
He was after all a Dardtete.
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