"There are names that are erased so well that even memories end up doubting. »»
- EDELSTADT aristocratic proverb
The tent had gradually emptied, leaving in the air this particular smell that only circuses know how to distill: a mixture of burnt wax, sweet smoke ... and something vaguely sad.
The Valemyr family stayed seated a moment after the end of the show.
Duke Veyron had not applauded.
His gaze remained fixed on the empty scene. As if he expected ... Something more.
Elaira, she was still holding the puppet. She did not speak. She stared at him. She was looking for.
To his right, Kael laughed.
- "He had style, this twisted clown. How did you see? It looked like a dog erected by a blind man. »»
No one reacts.
Kael turned his eyes to his sister.
- "Elaira?" Are you doing well ? You make this head ... like when we talk to you about shared inheritance. »»
She folded her eyes, rubbed the thumb puppet.
- "This name. Ashen. I ... I don't know why, but ... "
She stopped.
- "I was cold, earlier. As if something touched my neck. »»
Kael laughed:
-"It may be your sense of compassion. You know, the one who was believed to be stillborn. »»
The Duke raised a dry hand. Silence fell immediately.
- "This puppet. »»
He appointed the object in the hands of Elaira.
-"Show it. »»
She hesitated, then obeyed. The Duke grabbed him, made him turn in his callous hands.
A engraved letter. One almost erased. Wood, blackened on one side.
He frowned.
- "It's a shadowwood. Prohibited for sale for fifteen years. Only a craftsman formed in the Circle of Souvenir could cut. »»
- "The circle no longer exists since the purge of Memoirs, father," replied Elaira slowly.
- "Precisely," scolded the Duke. "So where does this puppet come from?" »»
He launched him to a guard.
-"Lead it to the threshold temple. Tell them that we want a scrutinener. Let them search his fibers. Let them read what it contains. »»
The guard slipped without noise.
Kael sighed.
- "All that for a poor madman?" Come on, father. This guy was perhaps a fallen former nobleman, or a drug addict who read some old registers. »»
Elaira turned a cold look towards him.
- "He knew my first name. He looked at me like ... "
She hesitated.
- "Like a scar that we recognize in the dark. »»
Silence returned.
A servant approached.
- "Your grace. The royal columnist is there for the interview. He asked to finalize the family register. It is missing ... a name. »»
The Duke tense.
- "What name? »»
- "The register notes an empty line between Lady Elaira and Lord Kael. An entry without title or birth. Just ... a vacuum. »»
-"Delete it. There has never been any other child. »»
- "Well, your grace. »»
But behind the curtain of memory, something crumbled.
In the archives of the Valemyr house
(Written with a trembling pen, page 333 of the blood book)
"Ashen?"
No trace in the registers. No birth certificate.
But a series of erasures on the years 11 to 15 of the royal calendar.
As if a name had been written, then erased.
Several times.
One servant would have said one day:
"I swore hearing a voice crying in the cellar.
But when I opened the door ... There was nothing. »»
"A well -constructed forgetfulness is more sharp than an exile. »»
- Internal protocol of the Valemyr house
The Valemyr mansion music show resonated with a harp -free harp.
The rope vibrated alone, as animated by the sighs of a past that was refused to listen to.
Elaira read a newspaper on the last show of the Edelstadt circus. A fuzzy photograph of the masked clown occupied a corner of the page.
A wooden puppet appeared, almost invisible, in the hand of a young woman in the front row. His hand.
She didn't remember keeping her.
- "You seem troubled," said the Duchess Elaira, her mother, entering without hitting.
- "This show ... leaves me a strange impression. »»
- "Vulgar art often acts like this. The emotion without nobility leaves a taste of vinegar. »»
But Elaira no longer answered. She fixed the puppet placed on her desk. He seemed ... familiar. Without reason.
Further on, in the private library of Duke Veyron, Kael read a military report aloud.
-"... and concerning the eastern branch of the line, the monks confirm that the register was consolidated after the purge of born-in-the ombar. No rejection is listed. »»
The Duke closed the book with a dry gesture.
- " Perfect. No trace. No noise. »»
Kael frowned.
- "Father ... What did this note refer to, in the sealed file? A simple mention: Cellier 9, Cause: failure of ancestry. »»
Duke Veyron did not respond immediately.
He looked by the window. Edelstadt shone below. Proud and rotten.
- "Forget this sentence. Some words are traps. And some memories ... are not made to survive. »»
Kael got up. But when he got out, he asked a simple question:
-"Father ... Have you always had two children?" »»
A silence.
Then :
- "Naturally. Why ask? »»
Kael shrugged.
- "No reason. »»
And went out.
In a forgotten wing of the manor
An old servant, one of the last still alive of the old staff, advanced slowly, pushing a broom between the silent columns.
She hummed an old lullaby.
Words without sense.
Or maybe ... too much sense.
*"Small unnamed fire ... born under the ashes ...
... The walls saw him cry ...
... The channels saw him dance ...
... but no one remembered ...
… What was screaming at the bottom of the well. »*
She stopped.
A thrill.
Then she resumed her household. In silence.
Elaira room, later
The puppet remained there.
Inert.
She had tried to throw him away. Twice. He returned to his table.
A dream returned to him, strange and badly sewn.
A faceless boy.
A broken laugh.
A whip.
A wall stained with wine and blood.
She got up in sweat.
Looked at his hands.
Trembling.
- " I don't understand… "
But at the bottom of his chest, something murmured.
A foreign sentence, which was not her:
"I will make you laugh ... before you crawl."
"It's not forgetting that kills. This is what persists despite himself. »»
- Fragment found in an un dated grimoire, prohibited wing
Night fell on the Valemyr estate.
The corridors were silent, topped with a cold that did not come from the wind or from the stones. A coldness ... interior. As if the manor, despite its gilding and carpets, refused to breathe.
In the large dining room, Elaira leaned an old album of family portraits.
Aristocratic faces, frozen in painting, aligned like trophies.
Suddenly, she stopped on a page.
Three silhouettes.
Duke Veyron. The Duchess Elaira. And between them ... two children.
- "It's strange ..."
Kael looked up with his glass.
- "What then?" »»
- "This painting. I don't remember being done. »»
-"Perhaps an canceled order. A test? »»
- " No. It is signed. Framed. Hanging in our wing for years. »»
She touched the frame.
- "And yet, I only remember three of us. Father, you and me. »»
Kael shrugged.
- "We probably did it for an official visit. Two children give a better unit image, right? »»
- " Maybe… "
But his finger remained frozen on the empty space between them. Where another could have been held. Had to stand.
Duke Veyron stood alone in the archive room.
A secret piece, guarded by seals of forgetting and glyphs of silence.
He reread an ancient genealogical register, dating from a century.
*"... In the seventh generation, two branches were born: the heir, and the shadow.
One to govern. The other to disappear. "*
He frowned.
Traces of scratches, here and there. As if a page had been torn off.
He pronounced a word of unlocking. The magic refused.
- "Why do some things resist the king ... but not me?" »»
He closed the register. The sealer again.
But, leaving, he had the feeling that someone observed him.
The puppet.
Still there.
That night, she dreamed of a hanging cage.
A mask. A laugh.
And in the crowd ... herself, applauding.
The heart ... on fire.
She woke up in tears, without knowing why.
The puppet had fallen from the table.
And on his wood, the initial "A" seemed clearer than before.
The old housekeeper, the one who had served the family for two reigns, ranked archives that were believed to be lost.
She found a black box. Without a label.
Inside: a pair of child gloves. Worn. Dyed red.
She looked at them for a long time. Then whispered:
- "This name ... I knew it. A long time ago. But ... I don't have the right. »»
And she put the box. Slowly. With a form of fear.
Duke Veyron, alone on a balcony, smoked a rare incense stick.
The night was silent.
But in the wind ... he seemed to hear something.
A distant murmur.
A laugh. Far. Deformed.
A child's laugh. Crack.
He froze. And gave his teeth.
- "It's nothing. Just ... the wind. »»
But he returned earlier than usual.
And checked, that night, that each door was well locked.
"You can't remember what has never been said. But sometimes silence screams so hard ... that we bleed. »»
- Extract from a poem found without name
The crowd was again around the large silk marquee.
The moon drew pale ribbons on red and gold canvas.
Elaira Valemyr discreetly descended from his carriage, sober cape on the shoulders, looking for.
- " Miss ? Asked the coachman.
-"Wait for me here. I will not be long. »»
She entered.
She didn't know exactly why she came back.
Maybe to understand this disorder. This puppet. This look.
Or maybe just to review this ... clown.
The one whose name she did not know.
The one who had offered this sculpted memory.
The one whose eyes - even masked - had stirred something.
One thing ... that she didn't know how to have forgotten.
But tonight, the atmosphere was different.
No exaggerated laughter, no nervous light games.
Just a calm crowd, installed ... pending.
A young circus assistant came to meet him, shyly bowing.
-"Excuse me ... Are you looking for someone? »»
- "The clown. That of the last show. The one who gave ... a puppet. »»
The young woman hesitated, looking down.
- "I'm sorry, lady. He is no longer here. »»
- " How so ? »»
- "He resigned this morning. Without a word. He left his lodge, left his mask, and ... he left. He just said to us, "I'm not laughing. It's time to move forward." »»
Elaira's hearts were hugging. She didn't know why. But she felt that if she let him go ... she would lose something important.
She went away, suddenly.
-"Do you know where he went?" »»
- "I think ... that he went to the southern door. A carriage came to get him. »»
Without a word, Elaira turned the heels and ran.
The pavement slipped under its boots. The lanterns threw shade shards in its path.
She had never run this way. Not since childhood.
The streets seemed to stretch endlessly, and time ... slow down.
But finally, she turned around the corner of an alley.
And there she lives it.
Ashen.
Back.
Simply dressed. A bag on the shoulder.
A black carriage, sober, coat of arms, was waiting for him, his motionless coachman.
He was going to put his hand on the door handle.
- " Wait ! »»
Ashen froze.
The wind slightly lifted the sides of its coat.
He turned around, slowly.
Their looks met.
He, without mask.
She, the short breaths, cheeks blushed by effort ... and emotion.
A silence surrounded them, as if the world had just stopped.
She joined him, breathless.
- "Are you going?" »»
He turned his head slightly. Don't say anything.
She resumed:
- "You don't remember me ... or if?" »»
He fixed it for a long time.
Then, in a hoarse breath:
- "I'm trying to forget ... to survive. »»
- "But I remember you. Finally ... no. It's worse. I think I know you. And I hate this uncertainty. »»
Ashen slowly looked down. He had no answer.
Elaira approached.
- "This puppet ... The one you offered me. It was engraved with an A. "
- "A letter burned in a name that no longer exists. »»
- "You have no name? »»
He hesitated.
- "If I had one ... he no longer makes sense. »»
She looked at him for a long time.
-"Who are you really?" »»
A silence.
Ashen replied, in an almost soft voice:
-"Maybe a dream that we have misplaced. Or a memory ... who refuses to die. »»
A hoof noise.
The carriage was going to leave.
Ashen went up without adding a word.
Elaira remained frozen, icy.
- "Will you come back?" »»
He replied without turning around:
- "If I come back ... it will no longer be as me. »»
The door slammed.
Faced with him, the indicator was already seated.
The same man as on the market.
The one with ageless voice and simmering eyelids, as if he dreamed awake.
He looked at Ashen with stone patience.
- "You are still standing. This is more than what I had bet. »»
Ashen did not answer. His lost gaze derived by the glass, towards the crowd that was erased.
The light smiles.
- "Do you know what we say about yourself? »»
Ashen haus an eyebrow.
- "That you died a hundred thousand billion times. In a thousand billion worlds. And that, each time, you have returned. Less man. More ... ash. »»
Ashen hugged his teeth. He did not seem surprised or rebellious. Just ... tired.
The indicator continued:
- "You no longer have a name. Nor of goal. Or even hatred lively enough to kill. You are exactly as I wanted you. »»
- "And why?" »»
- "Because the nameless dead ... do the best cleaners. »»
He released a copper badge. Sober. A closed eye, crossed by a feather.
- "I have a job for you. A discreet position. You will not be a clown, a soldier, nor messiah. You will read. You will sort. You will observe. »»
- " Or ? »»
- "In the underground archives of the western district. A forgotten counter under the former Inquisition court. There, we bury the stories that we do not want to hear. »»
Ashen took the badge. returned it.
- "Why me?" »»
The indicator leaned his head.
"Because no one is wary of a broken man. And that sometimes ... the world needs to be observed by someone who has nothing to lose. »»
A time.
Then the indicator added, in a lower voice:
-"You saw the princess, right? »»
Ashen did not answer. He fixed the void.
The light closed his eyes.
- "So it's already too late. »