Ministry Protocol: Thrilling Tales of the Ministry of Peculiar Occurrences

by Tee Morris

  *****

  He adjusted his tie in his mirror so that it was perfectly centred. He checked his coat for any stray lint. Once more, he passed the comb through his hair. While his father would be in a right panic seeing him in such a position, Wellington found the work of a butler to be most satisfying. It was all so precise. It also helped that Agent Blackwell required very little of him. So far, he had carried a few bags, set the table, and ironed some things just to keep up appearances; but mostly, Wellington was able to catch up on his reading, even sketch out an idea for an ambitious automotive creation.

  Agent Blackwell even refrained from impinging on his person during the trip, which was a delightful change of pace.

  The small airship he was on with Agent Blackwell was about to reach the Hammarström, which was so large that this smaller airship could actually dock there to drop them off. Looking from the docking port, the ship was like an estate in the sky, brandishing grand balconies, great windows and gilding, as if it was a palace set among the clouds.

  Wellington held the bags as they docked. The formal attire of the butler reminded him of his infantry uniform, everything just so and in its place. The circular door opened between the two ships, and Wellington followed Agent Blackwell onto the large docking bay of the Hammarström. They were to be greeted by the organiser of the conference, Lady White of the Taylor-Whites.

  A tall, severe woman was waiting for them, her arms crossed in front of her. She was a giant of a woman, her weathered face hardly softened by her long, stringy hair wrapped in a tight bun. She wore a high-necked walking dress, gripping a large book in one massive arm.

  “Baroness,” she said, her face a tight frown.

  Wellington felt a stone in his throat. Why did she have to choose such a high rank? It would clearly cause suspicion. Why not a simpler, lower rank, or just claim wealth? That was easy enough to fake.

  “I am pleased to be here,” Agent Blackwell replied coolly, holding out her hand in greeting. “I presume you are Lady White?”

  The woman did not extend her hand. “You presume wrong,” she said. “I am Ms Crux. I am here to make sure that everything operates as it should. You say you are Baroness Blackwell. A high claim.”

  Wellington slowly took in a breath, his face struggling to betray no emotion. It might be that their mission ended here, before it truly began.

  “I am Baroness Josepha Raven Blackwell,” she stated, her back straightening.

  He cursed to himself. She wasn’t even impersonating an actual Baroness. She was using her real name?

  Ms Crux opened the book in her hand. “If you truly are who you say you are, then I don’t suppose you will mind us looking you up.”

  Wellington caught the name on the cover: Burkes Peerage. His eyes examined the room for any exits.

  She flipped open the pages. “Blackwell, Blackwell,” she mused to herself. Then her eyes widened. “Daughter of?”

  “Raven Katherine and Christoff Corax Emilian Blackwell.”

  “Town of birth?”

  “Zakopane,” Josepha replied.

  Ms Crux’s eyes widened, “Then you are she,” she said, and curtsied deeply. “My apologies, Baroness.”

  Doctor Blackwell smiled magnanimously. “I understand having security,” she said. “I commend you on doing your job.” She looked back to Wellington. “Come along,” she said.

  Arriving in their suite, his curiosity overtook him. “How did you manage to exchange the Burke’s Peerage books? Did you do it before the journey or did you somehow—”

  “I didn’t switch them, Books.”

  He gasped. That Doctor Sound would tamper with a book as important as Burke’s just to add in a few agents was beyond the pale. Tampering with some records, yes, but with Peerage? “That is beyond—” Wellington stammered. “That Doctor Sound thinks he has the right to tamper with Burke’s Peerage. Ministry or not that is just—”

  “He didn’t tamper with anything,” she said, her cheeks blushing just a hint. “I’m in it.” Josepha smiled sweetly. “But please don’t spread it around the office. Being around a Baroness does seem to make people uncomfortable.”

  Wellington swallowed. “You? A Baroness?”

  “Why yes,” she said.

  “And you work at the Ministry?”

  “The Empire needs me,” she stated quite matter-of-factually, “and I am very patriotic.”

  This was all too much. Wellington had to go sit down. And have a brandy. Or three.