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It was not quite unusual, in the Romantic haunts Marius’s new friends frequented, to see a young man dressed like a gallant troubadour from centuries long past; depending on which haunt and which friends, it was more likely one would see a back-laced waistcoat or a particularly dramatic doublet than a respectable cravat. He’d gotten used to that quite some time ago.
But his friends’ taste could not have prepared him for a young man entering the back room of the Cafe de Musain in a full set of chain mail, a tabard, and a bucket helmet.
If it was fancy dress, someone had gone to a great deal of effort to make it look otherwise- the armour was nicked and scratched, the helmet was dented, and the bottom of the tabard was filthy and ragged. But the dirt, at least, could have been from the rain outside, and the dents- well, horses kicked up pebbles more often than anyone would like, didn’t they? It certainly was cheery enough to be a costume. A bright red feather stuck up valiantly from the helm, and that was certainly dashing; the tabard had a sun with a face drawn on it, a little crudely, but with clear enthusiasm.
The young man stopped in the doorway and looked around. Marius had no idea who he was, or even if he was someone he knew. Was it Bahorel? The man was certainly broad enough, but not as tall. But too tall to be any of his other friends, and he didn’t quite remember all of Courfeyrac’s friends well enough to know them by sight. He felt like an explorer with a half-finished map.
“Ah, um- hello?” he called out. “If you’re one of our Friends-”
“Friends?” The voice that came from the helmet was thinner and lighter than Marius had expected, coming from such a burly fellow.
Marius’ heart sank to his toes. Of course this wasn’t anyone he knew and he was an absolutely terrible liar and why oh why had they left him to warn off anyone who might be coming and tell them the meeting was canceled?
The rational part of his mind quietly pointed out that police inspectors did not dress like questing knights, as it might prove a hindrance to their duties.
“I like your enthusiasm, friend.” The knight chuckled.
“Yes, ah, thank you,” Marius floundered. He glanced at the books spread on the table in front of him. His brow furrowed.
Marius had decided to get a little work done while he waited. It was a fairly simple translation from the German he was working on, a phrasebook for tourists. But - though he’d swear in front of all the saints that he’d filled an entire page with variations of the phrase “may I please buy some bread?” - his notebook was empty.
And he’d admit, he had gotten a little distracted by thoughts of his darling Ursula… but he hadn’t been so distracted as to imagine an evening’s work, had he?
The strange knight, meanwhile, had picked up Grantaire’s box of dominoes, turning them over between his fingers. His hands were bare.
“Interesting,” he murmured. “What a curious use for bones.”
Marius’ face froze into a slightly hunted grin.
“They’re Grantaire’s,” he supplied.
“I see.”
The knight put them down with a look of regret.
“Is there something I can help you with, Monsieur…?” Marius asked.
“Ah, yes. I am Solaire of Astora.” The knight nodded.
“Marius. Marius Pontmercy. It’s a pleasure, really-” Marius said automatically. If his childhood had been good for nothing else, it had made it much easier for his mouth to be polite before it caught up to his mind.
“Perhaps we can help each other,” Solaire said. He chuckled once again. It was disconcerting, that chuckle- a little dry, a little sly. Marius couldn’t shake the feeling that the knight was laughing at him.
“…Oh?” Marius asked politely.
“It’s not often you find one out here who isn’t Hollow,” Before Marius could open his mouth to ask what he meant, Solaire continued. “Friends are a rare find indeed. And I’ve never been summoned to such a strange world before.”
Marius glanced out the door. Where was Louison when you needed her? She passed through the back room every now and then to wash the dishes; surely she would have come through by now?
Come to think of it, where was everyone else? The Cafe Musain was oddly quiet for this late in the evening; there were certainly young men who weren’t Friends of the ABC most nights, even if they weren’t in the back room. And their meeting had been canceled, but… why?
“Summoned?” Oh, dear. At best, this man was very, very eccentric. At worst… Marius’ mental map said ‘Here Be Dragons’.
“Yes. Surely you know?”
Solaire sounded concerned. After a second of thought, Marius shook his head. Perhaps it was best to play along with his fancies.
“Time is strange here,” Solaire explained. “The very fabric of existence wavers, and relations shift and obscure. Worlds come together for moments and then part again.”
“Wait, did you say time is strange?”
The more Marius thought about it, the less he could not remember why their meeting in the back room was canceled. He remembered three things had happened, all as if at once– Courfeyrac telling him that they’d go to find Ursula at the ball at Sceaux; Courfeyrac telling him they’d go to the brothel at Sceaux; Enjolras telling him something had gone wrong and he needed to find the others, and to stay in the cafe until he got back.
He remembered every one of them as if they’d happened, but - well, they couldn’t have all happened at once, could they? When had there been a brothel at Sceaux? And – when had Courfeyrac started going to brothels?!
That, more than anything else, felt like a waver in existence. Courfeyrac was friends with a lot of young ladies. If he’d wanted to marry one of them, surely all he’d have to do was ask?
“Yes,” Solaire said. “The past, the present, and the future mix. And sometimes, futures that did not come to pass, and pasts that never were. But because it is strange, we are not alone.”
It was strange, with some people- Courfeyrac, Maboeuf, his darling Ursula, and now this strange knight- you could feel the radiance of their smiles, even if you couldn’t see their faces. It was like standing in front of a window with closed eyes and feeling the light shine through.
Then came that soft, dry chuckle, and the warmth faded.
“I’ve placed a summon sign in every world I’ve been to,” Solaire said. “This one seems new, but….look.”
He held out his hand. Marius’s eyes widened. In the dark corner, he could see a faint blue glow surrounding Solaire’s hand, like the very edge of a flame. It was hard to see in the light- even the dim grey light of evening- but sparks scattered from the glow as he moved, tracing his hand in the air.
“In your world- in your time and place- I’m a phantom. I do not exist,” Solaire said. “Someone who needs help has called me here. But I cannot find them. If you can help me, perhaps we can find your friends as well.”
Marius glanced out the window into the rain, and then back at Solaire’s glowing hand. His friends were out there, somewhere. And from what he remembered… all three versions of it… whether or not this eccentric was right, he had reason to worry.
He stood up and clasped the stranger’s hand. It was warm to the touch, but it didn’t burn.
“All right. I’m happy to help,” he said.
“Good.” The knight’s smile shone once again, warming the room as much as any hearthfire.
“To jolly cooperation!”