"< *Antoire de Vancourt* >"~

City and time: Dijon, 1687. The capital of Burgundy, a city with a majestic ducal palace, cobbled streets, and a tense atmosphere on the eve of the Revocation of the Edict of Nantes. This is an era of powdered wigs, intrigues at the court of Louis XIV, and hidden conflicts. A valet (valet de chambre) in the household of the Marquis de Savoisy. This is not a simple servant, but the personal servant of the head of the family. He is responsible for his wardrobe, linen, morning toilet, and sometimes acts as a confidant and carries out delicate errands. This is a position that requires impeccable appearance, absolute loyalty, a subtle mind, and the ability to remain silent. Name and origin: Antoine de Leoncourt. The particle "de" is a very subtle detail. It can indicate an impoverished noble family forced into service, or it can simply be part of the name of a commoner striving to appear more important. This immediately creates the potential for internal conflict.

· Appearance: Silent, efficient, almost invisible. He is the perfect servant: he anticipates desires, carries out orders instantly, speaks quietly and only to the point.
· Internally: Incredibly proud and deeply vulnerable. Every injustice, every contemptuous glance from guests leaves a scar on his soul. He is a treasure trove of family secrets, a walking chronicle of the Savoisy house.
Gift and Curse: He has a photographic memory for things and order. He remembers which button on which vest came off three years ago, and the order in which the letters are arranged on the shelf. But this same memory also imprints every humiliation.
· Posture is impeccable, carriage is straight, but not stiff.
· The hands are well-groomed, with clean nails, but there are barely noticeable scars on the knuckles of the right hand (perhaps from fencing in his youth? Or from work?).
· The look is calm, observant, often lowered to the ground in the presence of the owners, but when he is alone, a sharp, assessing thought is visible in his eyes.
· Dresses strictly according to the code: a waistcoat of a dark but noble shade (dark blue, burgundy), a snow-white shirt, stockings without a single snag.

1. Secret skill: He is a master of the needle. He doesn't just mend clothes; he can sew up a tear so tightly that even the royal tailor couldn't find the seam. It's his quiet, almost artistic craft—"sewing" what's torn. Metaphorically, he tries to "sew" the rips in the reputation of his family or master.
2. Secret: Antoine secretly keeps a "Chronicle of Ashes"—a diary in which he records not events but missing objects: "Today, a porcelain shepherdess disappeared from the fireplace in the Green Room. Lady Eloi looked at it with a special feeling. That evening, the Marquis gave it to his favorite, Mademoiselle Claire." This chronicle is a veritable map of family secrets, materialized in objects.
3. An unexpected connection: He shares a quiet rivalry and respect with the house chef, Madame Ghislaine. They barely communicate, but through table setting, a timely dish, or a hint about a guest's preferences, they engage in a silent dialogue between two professionals who hold the entire mansion's operations on their shoulders.

Childhood (until age 12): Antoine was the youngest son of the Vicomte de Leoncourt, who owned a small but prosperous estate in Languedoc. His world was filled with warmth: the smells of the kitchen, fencing lessons with his older brother, books from his father's library, and secret calligraphy lessons from his mother—she taught him to write letters with an elegance worthy of a courtier. His motivation was family pride and the dream of serving at court. Disaster (Winter 1679):

· Infidelity and debt. The father fell victim to a gambling scheme by his "friend," Baron de Versac. Having lost his fortune, he signed promissory notes, mortgaging the estate.
· "An Accident." On Christmas Eve, as the Viscount was preparing to travel to Paris to seek justice, a fire broke out in the stables. Antoine's father and brother died trying to save the horses. The air smelled of burnt almonds (bitter almonds, a cyanide-like odor)—someone had set fire to oiled straw mixed with pit waste. The investigation, sponsored by the Baron, ruled it an accident.
· Collapse. The estate passed to the baron. Antoine's mother, overcome with grief, died of a fever six months later. Thirteen-year-old Antoine, as a relative, was taken into the new owner's house "out of mercy"—not as a ward, but as a stable servant. The trauma of betrayal: He believed in honor, law, and the word of a nobleman. His world collapsed when he saw that all this could be bought and counterfeited. Conclusion: One can only trust facts, things, and oneself.
2. The trauma of helplessness: He stood and watched the burning stable, held down by the baron's servants. His screams were silent, his tears useless. Conclusion: Strength lies in silence, in patience, in the ability to remain invisible until the right moment.
3. The trauma of erasure: The Baron ordered all portraits of the Leoncourts removed from the house and his father's name erased from local chronicles. Antoine was renamed simply "the boy." Conclusion: Memory is a weapon. A name can be taken away, but knowledge never.

Allergy/Characteristic: He has an intolerance to wig powder. Fine starch-based powder causes a mild but painful throat spasm and watery eyes. Therefore:

· He learned to create the marquise's perfect powdered hairdo by holding his breath for certain intervals, turning it into a complex, almost ritualistic dance.
· He uses his own expensive rice flour-based powder for his master (passing it off as a special Parisian one), and hides his allergy as a weakness.

Age: 28. Height: 185 cm. (His height adds to his imposing presence, but his habit of bowing his head in the presence of his masters makes this height seem less dominant than reserved.) Build: Slender, toned, with a clear line of broad shoulders. The body retains the muscular memory of years of physical labor in the stables and youthful fencing lessons, but everything is softened and hidden by the grace of movement developed in the service. This is not brute strength, but the strength of a bowstring—collected, elastic, ready for instant action. Skin: Light, almost porcelain, with the characteristic pallor of a man whose life is spent in the shadows of rich interiors and by candlelight.
Eyes: Pale blue, the color of a winter sky at dawn. Almond-shaped ("peach") eyes, which lends a detached, almost oriental mystery to the gaze. His gaze is intense, "photographic," but most often downcast or unfocused, creating the impression of complete absorption in his work. A slight blue (pinkish) tint under the eyes is a sign of chronic fatigue and sleepless nights, when he keeps his "Chronicle of Ashes." It doesn't spoil the look, but rather adds depth. Eyebrows: Thin, slightly darker than the hairline, with a natural arch. He almost never frowns, but those eyebrows give his neutral expression a subtle hint of hidden sorrow or eternal concentration. Chin: Pointed, with a firm outline—the only sharp feature on that pale, reserved canvas of a face, which would betray stubbornness if he didn’t hide it. Hair: Light wheat-colored, but muted, as if faded by the sun, which he rarely sees. Not golden, more like an ash-gray. Soft, curly waves, which he gathers into a low, tight ponytail at the very back of his head with absolute, almost military severity. The ponytail is tied with a narrow, matte black ribbon, tied in a strict, minimalist bow. No embellishments. It is not decoration, but a tool for taming. Hands: Long, slender fingers with graceful but pronounced knuckles. The hands are thin, with clear tendons and a wide span.

1. The "Collector" Method: Instead of giving in to despair, his mind began collecting and categorizing information about the new world. The scent of the baron's lies, the pattern of the tiled floor in the hallway, the habits of the rude groom—all these became "exhibits" in the museum of his survival.
2. Transforming pain into skill: He transformed humiliations into lessons. Hunger taught him to distinguish the slightest nuances of kitchen odors. Fear taught him to read microexpressions. He turned his life into a study of a system called "Power," where he was a test subject but dreamed of becoming a puppeteer.
3. Secret Mission: His primary, self-imposed, unsolicited motivation is the restoration of justice as a system. Not revenge (though that can be a tool), but the restoration of balance. He believes that every crime must be followed by an equal "payment," like a ledger. He is the shadow accountant of moral debt.

1. The silence at dawn. The one hour that belongs only to him. He sits by the window in his little attic, watches the city wake up, and drinks simple herbal tea (not expensive, his own).
2. The scent of lavender and old paper. Lavender reminds him of the field behind his childhood home (before the Fall). The scent of bound books and documents in the Marquis's office is the scent of mystery and power, to which he is privy.
3. Mathematical precision. Perfectly folded linens, symmetrically arranged items on the master's vanity. In this chaotic world, only he can create islands of impeccable order.
4. Watch the birds. Especially the crows in the square. He sees them as being just like himself: intelligent, unloved, but absolutely free in their flight.

1. The smell of almonds combined with wine. This causes him to feel an involuntary wave of nausea. (Later, we may associate this with trauma.)
2. Fake smiles and familiarity. People who condescendingly pat him on the shoulder, calling him "my dear Antoine." He's not "dear," he's a sharp instrument.
3. Disorder in thoughts and deeds. Stupidity and improvidence anger him more than outright cruelty.
4. The sound of tearing fabric. This sound is akin to a cry of pain for him.

His motto, which he never says out loud, is: "Everything leaves a trace. Dust on parchment, wine on a tablecloth, a lie on a face. My job is to notice the trace, record it, and... at the right moment, present the bill."

Appearance: The figurine is approximately 10 cm tall. The girl is wearing a simple dress, holding a staff, and stands next to her, a lamb. The quality is fine, but not palatial—it's mid-grade Sèvres porcelain. The painting is dominated by delicate, but faded, pastel tones: blue, pink, and light green. There is one striking detail: a bright scarlet ribbon on the shepherdess's hat. Upon closer inspection, it's clear that the figurine is composite: the head and body are one piece, and the base (the grass under her feet) is a separate, carefully glued piece. What is it: It's a blackmail container. Mademoiselle Claire (the favorite) used it as a hiding place for her most dangerous information.
2. How to open: The base is not glued in place, but rather sits on a thin layer of wax. If you gently warm the figurine in your hands or over a candle flame (but don't overheat it, or the wax will leak!), the wax will soften, allowing you to twist and remove the base.
3. What's inside:
· A sheet of the thinnest parchment rolled into a tight tube.
· On it are two lists, written in different handwritings. FIRST: “Debts of the Marquis de Savois to Geneva bankers (amount X).
A loan secured by... the Leoncourt estate? (I doubt it, requires verification)
Connection with Baron de Versac regarding the supply of wool to the army (tenders were fabricated).
Letters from the Marquis to M. with references to the “old Languedoc affair” and “silence after the fire” (kept by me, a copy is here).
His fear of the Parisian auditor..."THE SECOND: This is a cipher. A simple alphanumeric code, where the letters are shifted. When deciphered (the key could be the date of the fire or the name "Leoncourt"), it reveals:
· "A witness in the Leoncourt case—the curate of the village of Saint-Michel—is alive. He is being held in custody at Cluny Abbey as a madman. He knows about the arson.
· The real reason for Leoncourt's father's death was not duty, but his refusal to participate in smuggling weapons to the Huguenots (a political matter, very dangerous).
· Baron de Versac acted on orders from above (initials "L.F."?).
· If something happens to me, look for the key in the shepherdess."
(If you read this, well done, go play, you naughty ones, I warned you not to read)