A couple days later, Sylvain asked me, like he had a gun to his head, to come with him out of town to a nearby lake to gather specimens for class. Pretty ballsy invitation–the sort of invitation that would come from a guy who’s being prompted by a higher power to think we were closer than we were.

After the chaos that was the poisoning and investigating and sparring with the royals, I was blindsided by–oh yeah, game stuff. Gah. We were post-Samhain Formal, so the game was meant to break into separate routes and plots. I said I’d get back to him later. Not like I would have picked “yes” if that was an option.

Then Étienne walked me to the dining hall for breakfast and, after stringing me along through an extensive chat about local holidays, asked if I wanted to come with him to his dressage competition. He could help me learn how to groom the horses and ride a little.

Next in the revolving door of event prompts: in class, Rémi threw me a paper plane that had written inside, Want to come with me to this weekend’s fashion show? Company’s showing off new stuff for winter. Could get you a free thing or two!

By that point, I’d figured out what episode I was in.

So I wasn’t a fraction as surprised as Lou when, during dinner that Rémi persuaded us all to take outside to enjoy one of the last nice evenings of autumn, Étienne announced, “Cécile caught me in the hall earlier, Louis. She said all your sisters are very excited to submit their paintings. How is yours coming along?”

Lou nearly choked on his overly-sweet cherry crumble. “My what?”

“Your painting…?”

“Painting? There’s no painting. What did you tell my sisters?”

The autumn wind tossed Étienne’s hair; he delicately brushed it off his furrowed brow. “I spoke to the Duke and Duchess Chapelle about having you all submit your work to the charity auction to sell. What?” he asked, as Lou dropped his face into his hands with a groan. “What did I do?”

“You went to his parents, man,” Rémi sighed, leaning back on his jacket on the grass.

“Should I not have?”

Antoinette (who I could not believe had deigned to eat with us again), added, “Clearly, because they didn’t bother to tell Louis about your offer.”

“Mon dieu. Did they really?”

Sylvain sighed. “Are these folks your parents or your managers?”

Lou pushed his crumble around on his plate with his fork. We weren’t technically allowed to take the fancy dining hall dishes outside, but Rémi had distracted the student monitor at the door with his patented flirtation powers. I knew this scene from the game, and the cute CG that followed it–a rare image of the entire gang together. Barring Antoinette, obviously.

Étienne said, “Well, now I’m extending the offer to you. I always meant for you to be involved. The Chapelle painters deserve to be known.”

“I don’t, apparently.”

Rémi and I punched Lou’s shoulders at the same time. I said, “Yes, you do! You have to make something! Show them you deserve to be included.”

Rémi nodded. “The Chapelle set’s not complete without you.”

Sylvain asked, sounding studiously disinterested, “How much time until the paintings are due, Étienne?”

“We need all the items this week, since we have a team coming in to appraise them and whatnot.”

“See!” I said. “Plenty of time. I’ve seen how fast you draw in class. Let’s do it.”

I expected Louis to get worn down and agree–after all, that’s what happened in the game. Antoinette’s addition was a surprise, though: “I agree. Your family didn’t tell you for selfish reasons. Time to prove them wrong. Let’s go to your estate this weekend.”

“I can paint in the classroom–”

“And hide away? No. Don’t you want them to see your rebellion?”

Lou said, “My little sister’s end-of-year recital is this weekend. The estate’s gonna be stuffed.”

“So? We’re all used to crowds, aren’t we?”

Sylvain said, “After what happened, you shouldn’t be in large crowds of strangers.”

Antoinette flicked her fork at him. “Old news.”

“Your poisoning is not old news.”

She gave him a sharp little smile. “My what, now?”

Rémi laughed. “Your illness, obviously. How embarrassing that the Delphine heiress came down with something right in the biggest party of the season.”

“C’est exacte, Rémi.”

“Poor girl.”

“Luckily she had so many people to help her make a perfect recovery. So. This weekend?”

Ping!

Huh. So Antoinette could say the magic words, activating the dialogue choices like everyone else.

This wasn’t as decisive as the Holly Gala date decision, but it lent a ton of approval points towards the guy you were interested in, and it was particularly mean in that you could only choose one. Lots of players, myself included, created four different save files here, to experience each of the dates before moving forward with their preferred dreamboat.

Looking at the gang’s frozen faces, all of them determined to do this for Lou, I’d be an idiot to choose anything but yes.

~*~

All six of us piled into two school-issued carriages and headed out to the Chapelle estate. Louis looked like he was gonna chew his own fingers off from nerves. Étienne kept sneaking in apologies as we chit-chatted, getting more and more insistent every time Lou didn’t reassure him that it was perfectly lovely and fine and I love you Étienne you’re perfect. Antoinette and Rémi were a united front, telling the prince that it was great that he hecked up, actually, because now we had the chance to prove the Chapelles wrong.

I hoped Antoinette wouldn’t have a repeat of the paint-pouring incident.

The Chapelle Estate was uncannily adorable. Massive, with each intricately carved, gold-handled door probably costing more than my monthly rent back in the real world, but somehow cute with its dozens of frothy flower boxes, clapboard siding in soft eggshell white, and wooden porches that reminded me of Antebellum-era mansions with none of the nasty connotations. It was smack in the middle of a hilly flower field, shaded by orange-yellow-red-purple trees like a Bob Ross painting.

The Love Blooming art of the place had been glittering and lovely, but I couldn’t deny the true magic that came from actually stepping into these places–smelling the powdery flowers and warm hearths and fresh paint, skipping off the cobblestone paths to feel the high grasses on my ankles, hearing the hum of bees and twittering of birds.

However, there was a little piece of hell on the doorstep.

Cécile was waiting for us. Her crossed arms fell to the sides of her dress once her eyes set on Étienne and Antoinette, but she didn’t release the tension in her mouth.

The only one who had to introduce himself was Sylvain. She curtseyed to us all, but pinned her brother with a pointed, “I didn’t know Maman allowed us to bring so many friends, and so early.” Oh, another woman with harsh rules, Love Blooming? Yeesh. “The recital isn’t until five. How will we entertain them until then?”

“Don’t you worry,” Rémi said, skirting around her to the porch. “We’ve got plans.”

Antoinette tailed him closely. “You recall the prince’s invitation for you all to submit paintings to the auction, yes? Apparently the news didn’t make it to Louis. How strange. We all figured we’d help him in his own studio.”

We were nearly in the door when Cécile called, “Wait, wait a moment.”

We all did. Louis had his arms folded tightly over his chest, though it was a surprisingly warm afternoon for November. I’d gotten shuffled between Antoinette and Rémi, feeling pretty short.

Cécile cleared her throat. Her tone was even, clearly watching herself around these people. Was it Étienne or Antoinette who kept her in line? “Louis, I know you. You don’t like attention. You don’t want to submit anything.”

“An artist–any entrepreneur, really,” Antoinette said, “would be a fool to not try any offer he’s given. Especially one like this.”

“But surely the prince doesn’t need three paintings from the same family. Aren’t there hundreds of other items in the auction?”

Rémi and Antoinette traded a look. Étienne was probably about to make some middling excuse, but he barely got a syllable in before those two took the reins.

Antoinette began with, “You’re most certainly right.”

“Hundreds, if not a thousand, by now. Even my family got in on it.”

“Surely, three paintings would be too many; this is very astute of you, Cécile.”

Cécile glowed under the praise. “So Louis–”

Rémi interrupted, “There’s gotta be a way to mitigate that problem, right? We can’t have three… So why not just one?”

Antoinette nodded approvingly, tapping his chest. “Only one, chosen by the prince himself. How about you and your sister join us in the studio, then? After all, we have the prince here, ready to judge.”

Étienne started, “Sorry, wh–”

Rémi grinned. “Sounds like a good time for a competition.”

Those two!!! Like when she’d confronted that poor kid in the police station, Antoinette was speaking quickly, her tone razor-sharp. Of course, Cécile wasn’t a confused, shy guy who was caught up by her beauty, but she was being confronted by people way above her status, and she was bred to respect these people within an inch of her life.

She turned to Louis. “Is that your plan? Hm?”

Louis hesitated, biting at a hangnail. Étienne set a hand on his back. After a second, Louis said, “Yeah. Does Camille have a few free hours before she has to perform?”

“...Probably. Maman will want her all dolled up for tonight’s show, so she has to be careful.”

“You three are nothing but careful. Okay. Fine. Meet you in my studio.”