[Once more as darkness descends, new flyers are revealed to the public, appearing through the Quartier Publique, the Quartier Marchand, The Ouvrier and the Quartier Savant, speaking of the Vicomte de Roissy's love of foreigners over his own people, and the heinous crimes he allows them to escape with.]
They say you can judge a man easily, based on the company they keep. So what does the company the Vicomte de Roissy keeps say about him?
While it remains something of an open secret from most, the Vicomte de Roissy keeps on a retainer, a man by the name of Cyrus Gallant. This man, whom you will note is auctioning goods today without any sort of permit or written agreement in our fair city, has been given carte-blanche to do as he pleases by the Vicomte, including but not limited to selling items the common-folk in Dementlieu would be arrested for, stomping around the city in plate-mail, dressed in a manner befitting a brute, and most heinous of all, cold-blooded murder in the name of his foreign and outlandish deity. Not Ezra, or anything the Dementlieuse people might be capable of relating to, but instead to a faith originating from beyond the Mists – the only thing to which he answers to.
You see, a man by the name of Arthur Greenworth decided to visit fair Port-a-Lucine on business. Rumor had it that this man was none other than Elric Wilcus, a despicable man who performed foul acts, many of them associated with the dark arts, in the name of his own foul and debased faith. Rather than see this man arrested, questioned, and then put on trial, the Vicomte de Roissy elected to have this vigilante claim Elric Wilcus’ life, in full view of a crowd of people in the Bullseye. You see, the Vicomte de Roissy only cares for the rule of law whenever it happens to suit him. Otherwise, he tasks a ruthless killer with butchering them, in front of a throng of horrified citizens. For now, the Vicomte de Roissy has not turned this dangerous fanatic on the people of Port-a-Lucine, but all the control the Vicomte believes he has over the man, one can only keep hold of a mad dog on a leash for so long. I have known for some time that Cyrus Gallant has wanted to claim my life over the ‘despicable’ and ‘evil’ acts I have committed. Monsieur, I certainly invite you to try, and prove to all what you are – a simple-minded zealot, with no place in polite society.
But he’s far from the only one who has been allowed a place in Port-a-Lucine for too long – Magda, the ‘bodyguard’ of the Vicomte de Roissy, has, since her arrival in Port-a-Lucine, been nothing more than a blackguard and a bully. I have personally witnessed her threaten countless individuals, many of them men of integrity, men of honor. They could be high-born or of common birth, it did not matter to them. Yet for some curious reason, the Gendarmerie seem to turn a blind eye to what she does. Just how many men and women have met their end at the hand of Juste’s uncouth Barovian lover? We honestly may never know.
What, then, of the newest addition to House Marceaux? What can we say of the hideous creature that is Vera, the Vicomte de Roissy’s newest retainer? Freakish eyes, and skin that shines when the sunlight hits it? The woman has claws, and yet for some reason, this woman is chosen to serve one of the most ‘prestigious’ houses in Dementlieu. Let it not be forgotten that this woman’s former place of employment was at Club Envie, a house-of-ill-repute. Let it not be forgotten that this woman’s values fly in the face of what is proper.
How do the aristocrats of this city live with themselves? Those of you who genuflect when the Vicomte de Roissy walks by and yet spit on my name, know that I am not the pretender – rather, it is YOU! The people are not fools, and they see through this charade. Know that in time, I shall be vindicated, as House Marceaux collapses likes like the house of cards it always was.
~ Anselme de Coursay, the true Baron de Corbie and Vicomte de Valais
P.S.: I find it amusing that whoever wrote that little tale attached to some of my flyers felt the need to write in the style of a children’s bedtime story. What does it say when the aristocrats of this city, most of them too cowardly to leave their name below what they’ve written, treat those lesser than they like errant children in need of constant babysitting, instead of as fellow citizens with needs and concerns?