She didn’t have to wait long. Within moments the door opened and a short figure entered the room. It was a young woman with short brown hair and glasses, wearing dirty overalls. Finally—a familiar face.
Farahilde grabbed her from behind and put one arm around her throat, the other one grabbing the top of her head. “If you cry out, I will snap your neck. Do you understand?”
The girl moved her head in slow, measured nods. Farahilde let her go but remained standing within a few inches of her. “It really is you,” the girl said in French. “I heard we had captured Farahilde Johanna, but I couldn’t believe it.”
“Captured,” Farahilde said. “Past tense. As you can see, I’m no one’s prisoner for long.”
The girl looked at her, astonished. “What are you doing here?”
“You mean, besides being dragged against my will to America? Looking for someone who can give me answers. You were the head engineer when we fought to stop Robespierre. Your name is Celeste, right?”
She nodded again and said, “That’s right.”
“All right; good. First question: Who is that woman on the bridge? Because she damn sure isn’t Jeanne de Fleur. She doesn’t even know me.”
“That’s a bit…complicated,” Celeste said. “After milady defeated Robespierre, she left the Ordre. We used to answer to the king, but now we have an emperor, and she refused to serve Napoleon Bonaparte. Because he betrayed her brother.”
“Yes, I remember her saying he turned against her brother when Robespierre took over your government.”
“That’s right. So of course she would never follow such a man. She left the Ordre, along with Pierre—he was the vice-commander, if you’ll recall—and Victor. Milady and Pierre went to live in his home village of Pierret. I don’t know what happened to Victor.”
“That still doesn’t explain why there is an imposter leading you now,” Farahilde said.
“Well, you see, whether she had intended it or not, Jeanne de Fleur had become a symbol for the people of France to follow. The Emperor was determined to use that symbol for his own ends, and vowed to force her to serve him if necessary. She still refused, though, so he sent troops to Pierret to capture either her or Pierre. He thought if he could at least acquire Pierre as a hostage, she would have to obey him.”
“What a cowardly tactic!” Farahilde exclaimed. “I should have killed him when I had the chance.”
Celeste continued, “They managed to fight their way out of the village, but I heard there were innocent townspeople killed in the battle. Milady and Pierre were last seen heading west across France.”
“So you don’t know where they went?”
Celeste shook her head. “I wish I did. I stayed on this airship in the hopes that I would one day see her again—maybe I could help her when that happens—but so far we haven’t found a trace of either of them.”
Sighing, Farahilde said, “All right. But you still haven’t told me who that bitch is on your bridge.”
“I don’t know much. She is someone the Emperor handpicked from the French Army to lead us. He probably chose her for her resemblance to milady. As I already stated, Jeanne de Fleur had become a powerful symbol for the people of France, and he was determined to make use of it.”
“Even if that means parading some woman around in her place?”
Celeste lowered her voice to almost a whisper and said, “He will accomplish his goals by any means necessary.”
“From what I’ve seen of him, I believe it.”
“At any rate, we are under orders to always address her as either Commander or Jeanne de Fleur. However, last month when we were in Paris I overheard one officer—whom I think knew her in her previous life based on his familiar tone—call her ‘Deschanel’. He was severely punished for that.”
Farahilde pondered this for a moment. The name wasn’t at all familiar to her. “Deschanel, huh? Well, just as long as I don’t have to call her Jeanne de Fleur. Thanks. But why are you so willing to tell me all this? I figured I’d have to at least torture you a little.”
Celeste gave her a bashful smile. “Well, it’s because…you were milady’s friend. She trusted you with her life. And if she could trust you, so can I.”
Surely she hadn’t heard that right. “She…considered me a friend? After what I put her through?”
“I think…I think she came to understand your heart, and your reasons for doing what you did. You were both victims of the French government, so she could sympathize with you.”
Suddenly there was an abrupt rumbling. “What’s going on?” Farahilde asked.
Celeste gave her a look that suggested it was a stupid question she had just asked. “We’re moving.”
“But I slashed the balloon! This airship shouldn’t be able to fly.”
“Oh,” Celeste said, as if she suddenly understood Farahilde’s confusion. “You probably think the Minuit Solaire II is still vulnerable to water. In actuality, we worked to insulate it, and now it can travel through the sea like a traditional ship.”
For the second time that day, Farahilde felt like a dummkopf. The airship had landed in the water next to the Hapsburg Pride! Of course it had to be insulated. Taking out their balloon might slow them down, but it wouldn’t necessarily stop them. “This is not meine day,” she said, slipping back into German.
“You’d better get off this ship quickly,” Celeste cautioned. “Unless you want to come with us to America.”
“I’m going there anyway. But I’ll be damned if I’m going with you worms.” The young engineer looked a bit slighted at the insult. “Present company excluded.”
Celeste laughed. “Don’t worry about it, Miss Farahilde.”
Farahilde walked over to the window. After determining that it was large enough for her to fit through, she opened it and jumped out into the sea. She hit the cold water and, although it didn’t feel good, she was grateful to be out of there.
Chapter VI: Land of the Free?
The Istanbul Strait, November 11, 1792 (Infini Calendar), 2:00 p.m.
In the wake of the Minuit Solaire II’s departure, the crew of the Hapsburg Pride fished Farahilde out of the water of the Istanbul Strait. Leopold had a lot he wanted to yell at her about, but that had to wait, as she really needed to change clothes and dry off. Frederick expressed his relief that she was all right.
“Of course I’m all right,” she said as she walked across the deck. “As if a little water could kill me.” She was a little annoyed the Ordre had taken her bladed gauntlet, but no matter; she had more of those below deck. Plus, the satisfaction of escaping their clutches more than made up for the loss. They were probably cursing their own stupidity right now.
***
“Farahilde Johanna has escaped!” Vice-Commander Emil announced as he rushed into the bridge.
Commander Deschanel was sitting in the captain’s chair. She had expected as much. She hadn’t counted on the vile Austrian woman being held in the brig for long. She only had her put in that cell to keep up appearances. The truth was, Deschanel would much rather have killed her personally than suffer her continued presence on board the Minuit Solaire II. “No matter,” she said.
“But she attacked us,” he protested. “Shouldn’t we go back and—”
She cut him off. “And what? Recapture her by force? You know full well the Emperor gave us explicit orders not to attack the Austrians openly. We’d risk starting a war. France’s resources are already severely drained from the Alset Project. Besides—our present mission is far more important than some Austrian chienne. And you never know; we might meet her again in the new world.” I hope you do make it to America, Farahilde Johanna. You’re only second on my list of people to kill. If I get a chance, you can bet I’ll have my revenge. Of course, I can’t forget about my primary target, the one who destroyed my life. I might just kill you anywhere, regardless of witnesses. That is how deep my hatred burns.
She rubbed the area under her eye patch. The thing was
uncomfortable to wear, and physically she had no need to wear it in the first place. However, there were far greater factors fueling her hatred. And when she got to the United States she fully intended to deal with those.
***
The Istanbul Strait, November 11, 1792 (Infini Calendar), 5:40 p.m.
As they ate dinner within the hold of the Hapsburg Pride, Farahilde related to her brother and Frederick what had occurred aboard the Minuit Solaire II. The Austrian ship was once again back on course after salvaging the proper parts from the pirate vessels. However, these parts were inferior to the ones they had been using, and so they wouldn’t be able to get to Washington nearly as quickly as they had planned.
“So the members of the Ordre de la Tradition on board that airship are not the ones you remember?” he asked. He sat across from Farahilde at a small table in the dining cabin. The ship swayed and creaked as they ate, and the sound of waves crashing against the boat filled in any moments of awkward silence that arose.
“I recognized one of them: the head engineer who was with us when we stormed Paris two years ago. Practically still a child, but brilliant with machines. She told me their commander is an imposter chosen to fill a symbolic role in France. Where the real Jeanne de Fleur is, I have no idea.”
“So she’s a puppet,” Leopold observed.
“Nothing but a lying bitch dressed up in the colors of a real warrior,” she scoffed.
“Sister, what have I told you about using vulgar language?”
She sighed and began mockingly paraphrasing a creed that had been drilled into her for years. “I am a representative of the great house of Hapsburg and as such I must observe proper decorum in order to maintain our family’s reputation and set the proper example for future generations.”
Leopold nodded, albeit with annoyance. “That is correct. Some day you and Frederick shall produce children who will be the future of both Austria and Prussia. They will need a suitable upbringing and it will be your responsibility to give it to them.”
At Leopold’s prophetic words, Farahilde and Frederick—who were sitting on the same side of the table—looked at each other. She couldn’t imagine ever having sex with him, much less starting a family with him. Furthermore, he looked just as surprised as she; his face was turning red.
“Well, uh…” he started, clearly trying to find the words to respond to his sudden embarrassment. “I wonder what it’s like for her.”
“For who?” Farahilde asked.
“That woman you were talking about, the one who has to live her life pretending to be someone else.”
“Huh? How the hell should I know?”
“Language, sister!”
Frederick continued speaking. It was doubtful he wanted to get back to the previous conversation. “If it were me, I think I would hate it if I was suddenly forced to pose as someone else. Most people want to have their own identity.”
Rolling her eyes, Farahilde said, “Is that another lesson from your father?”
“No. Just an observation. People generally want their own accomplishments and accolades. If you can only have someone else’s…” He paused for a moment. He then added somberly, “Well, I think that would be very difficult to accept.”
“Hmph. You’d never see me being anyone but myself.”
Frederick smiled at that statement. “I don’t doubt it.”
“I, for one, often wished you would become someone else,” Leopold sneered.
***
The Hapsburg Pride made it through the Istanbul Strait, and then travelled west through the Sea of Marmara into the Aegean Sea. From there they went south into the Mediterranean, from which they headed west, eventually hitting the Atlantic. From there it was a straight shot to the United States’ east coast.
***
Washington Port, United States, December 11, 1792 (Infini Calendar), 7:00 p.m.
The Hapsburg Pride docked at the port of the American capital of Washington. They had travelled up a body of water which Farahilde had been told was called Chesapeake Bay, into a river called the Potomac. The Potomac apparently ran through the city. As it was winter in America, the sun had long since set and it was very cold out. Everyone on board was now wearing coats.
After leaving the Istanbul Strait, Leopold had insisted on drilling everything he knew about the city into Farahilde’s head.
After the Americans defeated the British following their revolution, they decided they needed a neutral area to serve as the nation’s capital. Two states within the country, Virginia and Maryland, donated land for this purpose. President George Washington chose the exact land to make up the boundaries of the capital which would be named after him. Farahilde personally thought that was the height of egotism, but Leopold insisted it wasn’t the President’s idea. Rather, the people adored him for helping to win the revolution and wanted to pay tribute to him. To Farahilde, he still sounded too much like the past couple rulers of France.
The city was built on the northern shore of the Potomac. Each side of Washington was about sixteen kilometers in length and the city’s borders formed a diamond shape with the Potomac running along the south, east and west sides. The area was originally a forest, but much of that had since been cleared to make room for the city proper. However, the Potomac still had a reputation for being a filthy cesspit. Farahilde made a mental note to not drink the water.
From what she could observe from the deck of the ship, Washington looked almost as modern as Paris. Large buildings loomed in the distance and just about every one of them was lit up.
As the ship went along the northern bank of the Potomac, though, she noticed what appeared to be a small village overlooking the river. The settlement—if that was what it was—was made up of crude wooden houses which stood in stark contrast to the rest of the city. Furthermore, there were numerous red lanterns which hung on every house and on a number of trees as well. The inhabitants were dressed strangely as well; almost all of them wore what looked to Farahilde like full-length robes, and some of them had what she could have sworn were long needles holding up their hair.
“What do you suppose is wrong with them?” she asked Frederick who stood next to her on the starboard side.
“I suppose that’s just their custom,” he shrugged.
“I’ve never seen anyone like them.”
“They might say the same about us.”
“I guess,” she said. “Although, I thought they were supposed to be related to the English. They don’t look anything like the English.”
He laughed, “Perhaps they even rebelled against English fashion.”
She shared the laugh. “At least they’re not wearing those stupid wigs.”
A voice behind her said angrily, “And what’s wrong with those wigs?”
She turned around. Leopold was standing there. “Plenty,” she replied.
He just shook his head and rolled his eyes. “We’re going to disembark soon. Get ready.” He then left to attend to other things.
They soon docked at a pier along the river, a kilometer from the strange settlement they had been observing. Leopold disembarked with a contingent of his guards, a few of which were carrying the trunk containing the mysterious artifact requested by the president of the United States. Farahilde and Frederick followed a short distance behind. They, too, were flanked by guards, though only a handful compared to the large group escorting their emperor.
In front of the docks on the right was a two-story wooden building, apparently the customs office. As they walked passed it, Farahilde noticed the people coming in and out of it were wearing very different clothing than the strange people of the earlier settlement. Their attire was much closer to what she had expected the Americans to wear.
“What the hell is going on with this place?” she wondered aloud.
“Maybe those earlier people are actually the indigenous peoples of this land, the ones they call Indians,” Frederick suggested.
“Hmmm, that makes sense, I guess
.”
Suddenly a teenage boy came running out of the customs office. He surveyed the group of Austrians and then looked at a piece of paper he was holding. “Fa…Fara…hild….Jo…ha-na?” he called out to no one in particular. Leopold didn’t seem to hear; he just kept walking.
Farahilde, confused, walked up to the boy. The guards hovered cautiously around her in case he tried anything funny. “I…am…Farahilde,” she said in the best English she could muster.
He handed her the card he was holding. Sure enough, it had her name on it. She unfolded it and was surprised to find a message written mostly in French:
Don’t cause any trouble, fräulein.
“That bitch Deschanel!” she growled, although she made sure to keep it low enough so the guards didn’t hear. “She must have gotten here already. Who does she think she is to boss me around in someone else’s country? I’ll gut her!”
“Are you sure it’s from her,” Frederick asked. He looked over her shoulder at the card.
“I may not be the most loved person on earth, but at least I can say I haven’t made any enemies in this country yet. That imposter Deschanel is the only person who would have reason to be hostile to me here—not including my brother. And look,” she said, pointing to the last word on the card. “She even added fräulein. That’s what I used to call Jeanne de Fleur.”
“Well, after what you did on her airship, she has sufficient reason to dislike you.”
“She had it coming,” she insisted. “Besides; she’s French. That’s the only reason she needs.”
“Hurry up!” Leopold called from up ahead. “They’re expecting us at the President’s home.”
***
They were met by a steam carriage which had been sent by the President to escort them to his home, a building called the President’s Palace. From her seat in the carriage, Farahilde was able to observe numerous aspects of Washington. The city, despite its youth, was bustling with activity. In addition to the very different styles of clothing she had already seen, there were, in fact, a multitude of others. She had never seen such contrasts of fashion before.
Secrets of the New World (Infini Calendar) (Volume 2) Page 5
