by Phil Foglio
“What?”
Boris took a deep breath. “Your father gave me very clear instructions regarding the actions I am to take if there is ever any cause to believe him dead. I am to publicly recognize you as the new baron without delay. I believe his intention was to ensure an orderly transition and preserve the peace throughout Europa. Especially since there would undoubtedly be some sort of trouble going on if he were to be killed in the first place.”
Gil could feel the unassailable walls of his father’s logic slamming into place around his future. “I . . . see. Very well. But I will not be so quick to assume his title.”
Boris smiled. “That should be no trouble. Your father left orders that if this was your response, then I should use one of your other legitimate titles: Your Highness.”
Gasps echoed throughout the room.104
Gil stared at Boris sourly. “I can’t even imagine what that is about. Just one more thing he never bothered telling me, I suppose.” He became aware of Bangladesh staring at him. “What?”
She shook her head in admiration. “I always wondered how Klaus planned to run off and leave you holding the bag.” She waved at the watching assemblage. “Very impressive.”
Gil allowed himself a flash of familial pride. Very impressive indeed.
Half an hour later, after he had spoken some words that both soothed and inspired, Gil found himself the center of a tight little squad striding along one of the great corridors towards the Map Room. “What is the current situation?”
“We are attempting to control a fifty-kilometer ring around the town, but this is under attack by, at last count, nine different forces,” Boris replied. “Several of these enemy forces have actually managed to enter the town. They are concentrated in a wedge to the south. The imperial forces within the town are scattered throughout. Communications were disrupted by the Doom Bell and we lost contact with many units.
“The remaining forces are now regrouping on the grounds of the Great Hospital. Many of them are now being used for relief efforts and to clear rubble. There is a very heavy guerrilla presence in the rest of the town. Although they are not attacking any of the troops working at the hospital, they are proving remarkably effective against the enemy forces.
“Reinforcements have been called for, but there have been numerous local rebellions and several outright mutinies have tied up a distressing amount of our armies. We believe these to be coordinated, by the way. Someone wants our forces in Mechanicsburg to be undermanned. The only people with that sort of intercontinental influence are the Fifty Families. We have sent units to search out the known power players, but they have gone to ground. Ironically, the Wulfenbach units we can expect to arrive first are the ones who were stationed the farthest away—on the borders or in the wastelands—but I do not expect the first of them to be here in less than ten hours.
“The most worrying of the outside problems is Sturmhalten. We’ve lost contact with our people there and we’ve reports of a horde of monsters emerging from the town’s sewers. Those are now approaching Mechanicsburg.” Boris sighed and rubbed his eyes. “Every other group they encounter is either killed—or joins them. Including every one we’ve sent.”
Gil nodded grimly. “The Other.”
Boris looked harried. “But . . . but how? Isn’t the Lady Heterodyne the Other? The Jägers told me—”
“No!” Gil paused. “Well, she’s one of them—a little—but only sometimes. Anyway, she’s not the one we have to worry about. At least not at the moment.”
“There’s more than one of them?”
Gil saw the look on Boris’s face. “We’re working on it, okay? I’ll explain more later.”
Boris turned to Bangladesh DuPree. “Am I the only person who’s worried about this?”
Bang shook her head. “I’m worried.”
Boris blinked. “You are?”
“Sure. I’m worried I won’t get a chance to shoot her.”
To Boris’s amazement, he suddenly understood why the Baron had allowed Bangladesh to continue to exist. He leaned in towards her. “If you must shoot her,” he said sotto voce, “don’t miss.”
Bang’s eyebrows rose in surprise and she gave him a delighted punch on the arm. “We’re connecting!” Boris felt sick.
Gil clapped his hands. “The first thing is to reestablish communications to all the troops. All attacks on Mechanicsburg are to cease immediately and they are all to proceed to the grounds of the Great Hospital.”
Boris looked uncomfortable. “That order has already gone out, sir.”
Gil looked surprised as they entered the map room. “Already? But, why—”
“Because I told them to!”
Gil stopped and stared. Tarvek was standing in the middle of the room, on top of the actual map table, a set of airship markers in his hand. “We’re now focused on defending the town and restoring the peace.”
“What are you doing here?” Gil demanded, once his surprise had passed.
“Running your empire,” Tarvek snapped. “And you left before me! What took you so long?”
Gil stared at him. “You’re supposed to be with Agatha!” He pointed accusingly at Tarvek and turned. “Boris, he’s supposed to be with Agatha. Why is he here?”
Boris threw his hands up. “Your father sent Othar Tryggvassen into the Castle to get you, but he brought this fellow back instead. We were hauling both of them off to the brig and Prince Sturmvarous glanced—glanced—at the operations table here as he was dragged past. From that alone he was able to deduce—and argue convincingly—that the 20th Chemical had been subverted. If they’d gone another kilometer, they could have destroyed our entire supply line, as well as the ammunition haulers. Within an hour, most of our units would have been defenseless. It was his idea to contain them with the 43rd Air and the Slow Movers.” Boris shrugged. “He’s been coordinating the military ever since.”
Gil regarded Tarvek sourly. “Who’s been assessing his decisions?”
“Myself, Kleegon, the Deep Thinkers, and the rest of the High Command.” Boris dropped his voice. “He’s actually made several moves that will have great long-term benefits for the empire.”
“Really.”
“Yes, really,” Tarvek interrupted. “You think I’m going to mess around with stupid plotting while Agatha’s in danger?”
Gil considered him seriously. “No, I think it would be really good plotting that would help us now, while setting things up to your advantage for later.”
Tarvek opened his mouth, hesitated, and then mentally switched gears. “Let’s concentrate on the now.”
Gil gave him a satisfied grin and extended a hand. “Fair enough. Show me what you’ve done.” They clasped hands and Tarvek pulled Gil up onto the table. For a while, they picked their way across the tiny model countryside discussing strategy. Gil paused when they came to a fleet of sleek airships. “I’m worried about this squadron of sky-sharks. They’re not flying in a standard Wulfenbach pattern.”
Tarvek nodded. “Well spotted. Their officers are loyal to the Knights of Jove. I was waiting to see if any other units joined their formation. A few have—” he indicated two ground units marked with red flags “—but I believe their expected allies have not arrived. They should be very much on edge. If you take out the lead ship, which contains the leaders of the Moglar Alliance, then the Sharks, as well as the Mecha-Schnauzers and the 5th Wheel Guns, will desperately try to pretend they were never disloyal at all.”
Gil nodded. “Boris, I want that ship cocooned and dropped right now.” Gil looked at Tarvek quizzically. “But hang on, Sturmvarous, don’t the Knights of Jove answer to you?”
Tarvek sighed. “They answered to my father and to the heads of the Order. I was probably written off as soon as I was captured at Sturmhalten. I seriously doubt my coming down with something as exotic as Hogfarb’s Resplendent Immolation105 was an accident.”
Gil patted him on the shoulder. “Oh well, tough luck about the whole Storm K
ing thing, then.”
Tarvek twitched his shoulder away from Gil’s hand, and looked serious. “Wulfenbach, I have some rather . . . unpleasant cousins who would love to have me out of the line of succession. If one of them becomes the new Storm King, you’re going to really wish it had been me.”
Atop the walls of Mechanicsburg, Agatha was kneeling on the stones, rooting around inside the workings of one of Gil’s lightning accumulators. She sneezed, crawled backwards a bit, and settled herself on her haunches with a scowl. Violetta handed her a clean rag and she wiped her hands. “He insists on using copper,” Agatha groused. “No wonder these things melted.”
Violetta ignored this. She had always left anything involving the workings of machinery to Tarvek and now she did the same with Agatha. She preferred more interesting topics of conversation. “Did you notice he wrote your name on all the bolts?” She raised her eyebrows as she spoke.
Agatha flushed. “Obviously he has too much time on his hands—” Surreptitiously, she slipped an inscribed hex-bolt into one of her belt pouches. “—but I thought it was very sweet.”
General Gkika stepped up, grinning. “Goot news, Lady! De Bone Qvarter haz been cleared.”
Krosp appeared by her side, studying a map. “Yeah, those street cleaning machines you repurposed are really effective.” He shrugged, “It’s a pity they’re corroding the actual streets.”
“Picky, picky,” Agatha muttered. “What about the group that was giving us trouble in the North Windings?”
Lady Vitriox glanced at a column of smoke. “The Dark Light Guards? They continue to put up a strong resistance, but they are falling back to the east.”
Agatha glanced at Krosp’s map. “Perfect. With the Dyne to the south, they’ll funnel into the Greens—”
Van rubbed his hands. “Where they will have no cover at all!”
Krosp frowned. “You’re sure they can’t take the cathedral?”
Van smiled beatifically. “Oh, I really hope they try.”
Agatha gracefully rose to her feet. “How long do you think we have before the next wave of attackers arrives?”
Krosp and the Jäger glanced at each other. “Vell,” Gkika admitted, “most ov de Vulfenbach forces haff ektually broken off. Dey iz all congregating towards de Great Hospital. De vuns dot ain’t, hy tink it becawze dey haven’t gotten proper orders.”
Agatha’s eyes narrowed. “You mean the fighting is over?”
“Not at all,” Lady Vitriox said primly. Her statement was punctuated by a burst of green lightning that erupted upwards from a northern tower, striking a gigantic bat that appeared to be made out of polished copper. It spiraled down and out of sight.
“There are a lot of different enemies attacking us,” Krosp said sourly. “I’m assuming that, at the moment, the imperial forces are more concerned with searching for the Baron.”
Suddenly, there came an immense, thunderous booming sound, and the ground itself shuddered. A wall of metal, taller than the ancient stone walls of Mechanicsburg by at least ten meters, had appeared outside of town. Above it, three airships shot into the sky, relieved of their burden. Agatha looked and saw a flotilla of similar ships, each towing a similar burden, and all approaching fast. Even as she processed what she was seeing, the next wall segment slammed to earth, followed by another, and another—each operation, with typical empire efficiency, taking place within seconds of the previous.
Krosp stared in fascination. “Dropwalls!”106 He waved a paw. “I’ve seen blueprints.” He squinted and then scratched his head as he studied the ever-growing array. “But . . . they’re all facing the wrong way. They’re not containing us, they’re defending us.”
Gkika’s jaw sagged in surprise. Then it shut with a snap. “Ho. Hyu iz right.” She dashed off, calling over her shoulder, “Hy iz gun get some troops on dem!”
Krosp shook his head. “Weird. The empire doesn’t make mistakes like that . . . ”
Agatha’s heart gave a great thump. “It’s Gil! He got through!” She allowed herself a deep breath. “Well, that’s a huge load off my mind. With Gil buying us time, we’ll be able to get a lot more done on the town defenses . . . but I still I still want everyone working at top speed.”
Lady Vitriox looked approving. “My, my. You’re a smart one, aren’t you?”
Agatha nodded. “I hope so. I won’t sit back and rely on the Wulfenbach forces to defend us. Not that long ago they were the ones attacking us. An hour from now, they could attack us again. This is my town. I’ll protect it.
“I . . . do trust Gil, but I don’t know how much I can trust the ruler of the Wulfenbach Empire. I want us strong enough that nobody can take us. They’ll have to negotiate with us.”
Van gnawed his lower lip. “That’s . . . very astute, my Lady.”
Krosp swatted at his knee. “Don’t sound so surprised, pal. She’s been learning from the best!”
Agatha sighed and pushed her glasses up onto her forehead. She rubbed her eyes. Van looked at her with concern. “Are you all right, Lady?”
Agatha looked up. “I guess. I just wonder how many other girls have to worry about whether or not it’s smart to really trust their . . . you know, the guys they—”
Lady Vitriox crossed her arms. “All of them,” she said flatly.
“But mine has an army!”
The old woman shook her head. “They all do, my Lady. It consists of other men.”
On the great map aboard Castle Wulfenbach, the last of the dropwall models was slotted into place. Tarvek looked over the field display and nodded in satisfaction. “That should keep your little empire tottering along for a few more months.” His voice became condescending: “Say, you’re really getting the hang of this!”
“Golly, do you really think so?”
“Well, no, but if flattering you will get me back to Agatha faster, then . . . ”
Gil gave him an evil grin. “Oh, I’ll get you there fast. Cannoneers!”
Boris was impressed. The two young men worked together very well, all the while sniping at each other viciously. They seemed to be having a good time. Boris found himself wondering how many actual friends Gil had managed to have in the course of his unusual upbringing. These thoughts were interrupted by a commotion on the other side of the map.
A guard clank held a scruffy-looking man by the collar. A pair of regular guards escorted them. “We caught him attempting to sneak aboard, hanging from the gondola of a supply ship,” one of them explained. He hooked a thumb towards Gil. “Says he’s a storyteller. Insists on seeing Master Gi . . . ” he corrected himself, “Uh—His Highness. Matter of life and death. Normally I’d just chuck him inna tank, but this whole operation’s been so screwy, I . . . Well, I thought I should bring him in.”
The men turned towards the guard clank and discovered it stoically holding an empty coat. They whirled in time to see the prisoner eagerly addressing Gil. “You! Young Wulfenbach! I must speak with you! It is of the utmost importance! It’s about a book!”
Gil, startled, raised his voice. “Boris? Get this—”
Suddenly Tarvek blinked in recognition. “Wait a minute . . . You? How did you get here?”
Gil looked at Tarvek. “You know this . . . ?”
Tarvek nodded furiously. “He should be rotting in a cell under Sturmhalten!107 Because of his ridiculous antics,108 the Deep Library is infested with giant smudge beetles,109 which happened while he was collecting vile and scurrilous110 stories about my family!”
Gil regarded the man with interest. “Well, he sounds well informed, anyway.” He waved off the squad of clanks arrayed behind him. “What do you have to say?”
Your professor then explained he was seeking the book by Masat with the stories of the Storm King that had been revealed to exist by the Baron. When Gil looked bewildered, he launched into an impassioned recitation of the story the Baron had told him back in the hospital. This only deepened Gilgamesh’s confusion.
“I’ve never heard th
is moronic story in my life,” he said. “And you’re claiming that my father told it to you?”
“Yes! He said it’s in the book! The one in your library! The one by Masat! He said you’d let me see it!”
“There is no such book,” Gil said with finality. He pointed towards Your professor. “Get him off the Castle. That story makes no sense.”
As the man was unfairly dragged away in what many concur was the young Wulfenbach’s first act of tyranny, Prince Tarvek touched his shoulder. “It makes sense to me,” he said in a low voice.
“Seriously?”
“Yes, the plan was for a Lucrezia to get close enough to wasp the Baron. She . . . she must have managed it, but I can’t imagine how . . . ”
Gil was appalled. “My father? Impossible! Sparks can’t be wasped!”
Tarvek looked tired. “They’ve developed a new strain.”
“They? They, who?”
Tarvek was thinking. He answered distantly: “Some of Lucrezia’s followers within the Order. Mostly a spark named Gottmurg Snarlantz . . . ”
Gil stared at him. “And you knew about this!”
“Yes. But I didn’t know she had got to your father. We have to—”
Gil grabbed hold of Tarvek’s coat and shook him so hard his teeth rattled. “Black fire and slag,” he swore. “Just when I start to forget what you are, you reveal another level of corruption!”
“I’m telling you about it now,” Tarvek gasped. “Listen to me. We’ve got to get out of here. Back to Agatha. Right now!”
Gil stared at him coldly. “Why? So you can infect her with one of your—”
“NO!” The slap Tarvek delivered was sharp enough that Gil’s saw flashes of light.
He leaped forward and slammed Tarvek to the ground, shouting, “Hold your fire!” as shots whistled over their heads.
“Sir! Are you all right?” Guards were rushing towards them.
“I’m fine, Captain.” Gil responded. “Leave him alone.” He turned back to Tarvek, who was still on the ground. “You idiot!” he shouted. “Are you trying to commit suicide?”
