The Dandy Boys Mysteries (Vengeance Book 0)

by Peter J. Wacks

Friedrich cocked his head in thought and then nodded decisively. He glanced over at Rufus and raised his eyebrows in a silent question. The physician harrumphed and fidgeted in his seat but finally gave an amiable shrug.

  Wilson smiled. “It is worth consideration …”

  Entry Eight

  Subsequent to the events of the day, this small band of friends talked well into the night, and indeed over the course of many months, examining the import of their investigation and the need for such methods in a world where even good women might resort to such beliefs in an effort to cover their sins. And so it was that the Fellowship was born. Not only were the five gentlemen of the fellowship set upon the task of advancing knowledge in the field of natural philosophy, but they felt assured that doing so would result in some degree of benefit for the greater society.

  They supposed that, if such beliefs were to be eradicated from the world, then it was possible that society might finally throw off the shackles of superstition, and in the process, free its members’ from a susceptibility to charlatans and other untrustworthy sorts.

  Eventually the Fellowship of Adventurer Scholars for the Revelation of Mythology and the Advancement of Natural Philosophy was codified in charter and submitted to The Royal Society of London for Improving Natural Knowledge. Whether the Royal Society would accept them into their numbers was a matter yet to be seen, but the men continued on, undeterred by uncertainty. And while the Fellowship rose from humble origins, what followed would not only define the character of those who founded this society, but the community as a whole.

  Journal Two

  The Magi of Liverpool

  Entry One

  The cohort of companions who founded the investigative body of the Fellowship of Adventurer Scholars made quick work of their preparations for departure. While some few found it necessary to justify this fancy, it was largely accepted by those to whom they were responsible that some form of foray was warranted and that, if this were how they chose to spend their sabbatical, such was their prerogative. And so it was that by the fall of 1838, the Fellowship of Adventurer Scholars for the Revelation of Mythology and the Advancement of Natural Philosophy had in full order ratified their commission and embarked upon their venture.

  While for some the journey had begun at the Weyland estate in Essex, the coterie came into full order at the Byron estate in Nottinghamshire. From there, it was decided to investigate certain and specific rumors of a strange occurrence in Liverpool. This, it was reasoned, would, in short order, bring their commission to fruition, and so the Fellows set forth on a short, but much anticipated journey.

  In those first days there was much to anticipate as they not only hoped to prove their venture to be more than mere fancy, but also because they desired to make a rapid impression upon the established academic community; in particular, the Royal Society of London. They did not know what adventures and discoveries may be awaiting them, but it was with a resounding eagerness that they embraced that unknown quantity.

  After deliberating upon both the expense and functionality of their intended travels, it was decided that retaining a carriage and driver would be impractical to their endeavor. For this reason, the Fellows equipped themselves to test both their endurance and their skill as riders. To this end, they drew upon the stables of Newstead Abbey in order to address any needs which were at that time unmet. When they departed the estate of the Byron house, each Fellow possessed a steed of his own, and the coterie shared the use of two large horses for the transport of goods and equipment.

  Despite the fact that the world had, for some decades, become a more integrated and easily traversed place, travel by traditional means was still a slow and often uncomfortable process. As it was, the group intended to follow sound practices in preparation for a long and extended journey. While they could have traveled at a cavalry march, they were in no particular hurry to reach Liverpool. As such, they had decided to pace themselves at a more leisurely rate. This meant traveling at an average rate only slightly faster than that which one could achieve by either foot or carriage, and far slower than traveling by one of the city hoppers, as the airhoppers were colloquially termed.

  None of the gentlemen were truly accustomed to such travel and had not yet begun to understand how incorrect they were in thinking that they had properly conceived of that which was in store for them. Most often, their past highway travel had consisted of the use of a Brougham carriage, or at worse, a dogcart or hansom. Few of them had ever sat in a saddle for a full day, and only then while on a hunt. Most of their distance travel had occurred via air transport. This was the epitome of luxury in that it afforded one the ability to enjoy the comforts of society while traversing considerable distances. It also tended to afford spectacular views; and when one combined these attributes with the fact that such vessels could operate at a sustained clip of nearly twenty Nautical Miles an hour, it was no wonder that those of means had set aside the more traditional modes of transportation in favor of these new, civilian variants of the ships-of-the-air.

  Had the Fellowship engaged such a vessel, then they could have traveled before Tea what was planned to take five days by horse. However, in so doing, they would not have engaged in the spirit which was to be the trademark of their group: the spirit of adventure and camaraderie.

  It is true also that they could have ridden their mounts more harshly and perhaps even cut the journey to a single day, but doing so would have placed their horses under considerable duress and required that they trade out for fresh mounts at regular intervals. They were each of them accomplished equestrians of one degree or another, and as such, they understood how to care for their horses. It was for this reason that they had traveled but a few leagues from Newstead Abbey when they broke for their midday meal.

  Entry Two

  The gentlemen found it odd at first, that they would stop and rest beside a field of grain, but it soon became a topic of conversation and fascination that they were, at that moment, experiencing a world their fathers and grandfathers had known, but of which they themselves were largely unaware. Despite the fact that the world seemed in the process of shrinking as a result of increased rates of travel—which had greatly increased mobility, and in turn, encouraged a greater exchange of goods and the migration of population—this was primarily due to air travel, and as such, the world of the highway was largely as it had been for generations.

  “Did you ever see anything quite so idyllic, gentlemen?” asked Weyland, leaning back on his elbows as he regarded the grain waving gently in the breeze. A storm was brewing on the horizon, but for now, the sky remained a perfect shade of a robin’s egg. “What joy our ancestors must have experienced traveling under such a sky!”

  “It’s all very pastoral, isn’t it?” asked Niles disdainfully, examining his fingernails as if there might be a speck of dirt to sully them.

  “It smells very clean,” commented Rufus, “no smoke or ash to sully the air, no obnoxious sounds or rushing equipment, merely the sound of birdsong and the quiet rush of the wind through the grain.”

  “What a spectacular life this must be, to live amongst all this serenity,” said Wilson. “All of the time in the world to read and to contemplate matters of importance. What do you think, Friedrich? Idyllic, right?”

  “Mm.” Friedrich frowned and looked away; he looked quite as if he’d bitten an eel.

  “I think,” interjected Weyland, “that this is an opportunity to explore things in ways which have been previously foreign to us. Think of it, gentlemen, who of our cohort has been given such a fruitful opportunity to experience all that the world has to offer? While others of the Society are locked in their offices, we are here, out in the wild, experiencing nature as only philosophers can.” He then sat up, waving his arms as if to encompass the entirety of the world which surrounded them.

  Once this point had been noted, the gentlemen perked at the rather adventurous concept that they were well on a path to true discovery. More than one seemed
to think that the very idea would bring them closer to the common man—in the most romantic sense—and that they would soon understand certain truths of the world which the previous generation could not.

  The obvious and notable exceptions to this revelry were Niles Byron and Friedrich Von Helsing. While Niles’ reason was assumed and understood to be flat disinterest, Friedrich was unable to escape the playful reminder that he was a provincial and that, as such, he was likely accustomed to more common matters—never mind that his father held a title comparable to that of Byron’s, and that they were the only two true gentlemen of group. The less civilized lands were, after all, such that even the nobility shared a degree of simplicity.

  It did not matter to them that his family had a long history and that his Dutch ancestors had long before achieved a state of wealth that could rival Byron’s own. Nor did it matter that both branches of house Helsing had supported the Crown’s bid for imperial rule. Such things did not matter to the properly British. Friedrich knew this because he had long toiled under the burden of being an imposter among the imperials.

  It did not matter how he spoke, or dressed, or how he walked. He could mimic perfectly the affections and mannerisms of the British court, but it would be recognized by all as simply that, mimicry. It did not matter that he had, by that time, internalized such manners and that he was in all truth a culturally British Gentleman. What mattered, even to his friends, was that he was and would always be an outsider, a provincial, a German. In their many discussions, his friends would cite German thinkers with respect and consideration, but such was never extended to him, and he had long ago learned that there was no point in resisting what they perceived to be playful and harmless fun, even if it did reveal their true perceptions and biases. Despite his nobility, he was, and would likely always stand as, the lowest in the group hierarchy for one simple reason. He was not properly British.

  Because he knew this, Friedrich did not bother to explain that the reason for which he did not share his colleagues’ excitement was that his father had made an early effort in educating his sons on such matters. In truth, any story which involved his father taking him on a tour of rural lands would likely have added fuel to the metaphorical fire. Perhaps, at some other time, his friends would have given honest consideration to his insights into the lives of common folk. They might even have come to appreciate the advantage one might gain by understanding the context of poverty and the psychology of subservience. As it was, however, such concepts would have fallen on deaf ears.

  After having eaten their meal, and having rested their horses for several hours, the young gentlemen remounted and continued on their journey. Niles had called upon one of his father’s servants, and had with the use of a map planned for several stops on the journey from Newstead Abbey to Liverpool. This, it was reasoned, would ensure that the gentlemen found proper lodging during their travels while allowing for a consistent and “leisurely” rate of travel. It was soon clear that “leisurely” was a relative term, for by midafternoon of the second day, an edge of the earlier excitement had begun to wane from all but Rufus. Even the normal hale excitement Dominic displayed was replaced with the visage of a man too long in the saddle.

  Before this, however, when the promise of the unknown was fresh on each man and the first traces of fatigue were still masked by the exhilaration of stepping out on a new expedition, a cargo ship was seen passing overhead in the distance, its bulbous balloon dwarfing the rigid barge which was suspended beneath. A nearly imperceptible trail of smoke followed the sky barge, evidence the engines had been set hard as the vessel labored against the winds, which were then beginning their seasonal transition. It was a task which was complicated by the fact the cooling air further depleted the vessel’s capacity to chart an optimal course by demanding a greater portion of fuel be diverted to the purpose of heating the internal hydrogen cells. Failing to do so could mean the vessel would no longer retain the lift necessary to account for the vessels payload, and that it would subsequently run aground. Unless misfortune struck, this captain would moor his barge at the nearest harbor and wait for the winds to assume a more favorable tone.

  Harbors had been constructed along the trade routes for this very purpose. They also acted as fueling stations, allowing airships to operate with minimal payload dedication. Except in those cases in which speed was a matter of great concern, most crews would hop from one harbor to another, mooring the barge at night. This not only allowed the vessel to be operated with minimal fuel on deck, but it also reduced the amount of provisions necessary for any given leg of the voyage and prevented operation at night when navigational errors were more likely and the cooler air required a greater expenditure of fuel. This infrastructure further allowed a captain to pick up a few extra coins, as one could occasionally find a local in search for personal transport to the city.

  More than one disenfranchised youth—whose ancestors would have likely not set foot outside of a thirty kilometer radius—had found himself a member of a freight crew after an evening in the shadow of a mooring mast. This contributed to a growing opinion of the harbors by local communities, which was not always positive, and was, in fact, typically the opposite. Despite the fact that small commerce communities had begun to form around these towers in order to service the needs of the traveling crews, the proclivities of the skymen—which were little different than those of sailors at port—as well as the visual impact these constructs had upon the rural landscape, caused in many the opinion that these facilities threatened the traditional family and way of life by spreading the corruption of the city into the homes of pure and honest Englishmen.

  Even at this distance, the gentlemen could see that the barge appeared to be heavily laden, and that the vessel was altering its tack, cutting into the wind in an effort to maintain its intended course. If the captain were wise, then he would have set aside a fair reserve of fuel, but not all captains were, especially when pressing the limits of their ship’s capacity by taking on extra cargo.

  Most aerial officers operated their vessels with as little fuel as possible in order to reduce overhead and maximize their profit margin. The transport industry was not exactly lucrative, at least not for individual operators. Larger consortiums and trading firms were able to earn fair profits, but this was achieved as often as not by placing the burden of responsibility onto contracted vessels. Fortunately for this particular crew, brigandry was rare along the central routes—although not unheard of—and it was unlikely that running aground would result in anything greater than bruised egos, lost time, and a marginal fine.

  However, it was worth noting that the London Gazette had recently published a story on a growing trend in skyway robbery. Whereas the first reported occurrences of this new trend in criminal activity were the result of opportunity—typically in the form of disorganized locals scavenging or overrunning a grounded vessel—or of broader dissent such as that which fueled the swing riots eight years before—a recent investigation conducted by the Central Investigation Ministry had shown that several factors had given rise to a new breed of brigand—which had come to be known as skywaymen—who, like their predecessors who had preyed upon the highway transport of goods, were now prowling the skyways with an eye for grounded ships.

  This was especially true in the outlying provinces where population clusters were more widely spread, harbors were less plentiful, and provincial authorities were less cooperative with the central police force. It was an unfortunate truth that the Central Investigation Ministry, an institution less than a score of years old, was often engaged in jurisdictional struggles with provincial authorities. The Fellowship had once discussed at length the boundaries which Sir Peel had built into the system, and why it was that it had fared so poorly provincially.

  As a result, it was increasingly likely that an unlucky or ill-prepared crew would fall victim to a band of skywaymen.

  Friedrich said as much, which led to a conversation in which Niles speculated that the
report was but a component in a larger Machiavellian scheme to discredit the provincial authorities and to build a case for strengthening the reach of the central government. In support of this supposition, Niles made note of the fact that this kind of criminality directly affected the transport and trade consortiums, which were almost universally based out of London or other cities within Central Britannia, and that as such, their interests in the provinces would hold a strong centralist voice.

  He noted further that most of these consortiums held direct ties to members of the House of Lords, and that their interests would thereby be likely to receive conversation in formal session. As this portion of the conversation progressed, Friedrich observed that the winds had shifted slightly and the barge no longer appeared to be operating as laboriously to maintain its current tack.

  As the day had progressed, it was recognized by the Fellows that Niles’ information had indeed been largely accurate with regards to their itinerary. Although the evening was deeper than anticipated when the troupe arrived in Chesterfield, this was understood by the Fellows to be a product of inexperience. This was, after all, the first day of their journey, and some degree of adjustment was to be expected.

  Entry Three

  The following morning, the Fellows were roused early, just as they had instructed of the staff. They broke fast in the common hall, alone at this early hour, and then verified that the horses had been properly cared for. They then loaded their gear, using the light exercise to dispel the final tendrils of sleepiness which had clung to their minds, and departed the establishment shortly after sunrise. The air was crisp, and the sky had gone grey. They, each of them, had made a point of drawing their coats tight as they rode into the morning fog.

  Shortly thereafter, the Fellows came upon a crossroad which was overlooked by a watch house. Strung across the roadway was a turnpike which was manned by an officer of the watch and two soldiers. After paying a modest toll to the officer, the gentlemen watched as one of the soldiers grasped a cable on one end of the turnpike and began to clear the road. The turnpike in this case consisted of three log segments, within which were placed a plethora of sharpened pikes. The soldier did not bother removing the obstruction completely. Instead, he cleared a little more than the required space for a single file and then waved the five gentlemen through.