Post by Lorpius Prime on Dec 30, 2007 5:03:26 GMT -5
Lake Starnberg, Bavaria. June 13, 1886.
The watch was heavy, as it should be, and the Swiss man could feel the vibrations its precisely tuned mechanism operating through the dense metal case in his hand. The dulled silvery surface did not catch the light of the setting sun, and the Swiss man was certain that he had not been seen. Nor would he. He looked at the watch hands for a while longer as they marked fate’s approach. Then he returned the timepiece to his pocket. It was his job to be certain.
“Something is gravely wrong here, Thomas,” muttered the taller man. “Are we certain about this?”
“Oy,” Thomas grunted, “the loony dame said Berg, so we’re in Berg, what more do you want of me?”
“I want to know how we got from the Chiemsee all the hell away out here!” the other man pleaded.
“Yeah? So do I,” Thomas set his teeth in frustration. “The Krauts have all sorts of weirdness these days, Willie, why not a tunnel to Füssen too?”
“That weren’t any tunnel, Thomas,” Willie shook is head. “You know it weren’t.”
Thomas didn’t have anything to say to that, and they walked in silence for a moment. Then he snorted dismissively, “Well it doesn’t bloody matter, does it?” He pushed away some branches as they approached the edge of the trees and the bank of the lake. “We’ve still got the job to—“
Willie saw it first, and he grabbed Thomas by collar and dragged him backwards to keep him behind the tree line. Thomas followed his partner’s pointing gesture and they both fell into a silent crouch.
The strange twists fate had recently dealt them were about to be repaid in full and with interest.
“Your highness,” Gudden’s voice reflected his exasperation, “please sign the Instrument. You must know it is the only way!”
The man with the wild hair made a sharp, broad gesture causing his black frock coat to ripple in the light breeze. “I will not sign over my kingdom, my kingdom and my people, to this—this treasonous putsch of my bastard uncle!” Gudden winced at the roar of his words and hoped this walk hadn’t been a bad idea. It wouldn’t do for the townspeople to be disturbed by the shouting.
Gudden took a deep breath, hoping careful words might calm the other man, “Your highness, your people… they do not know you. All your time is spent away in your castles and your kingdom goes neglected. The—”
The other man cut him off, “Nonsense,” he snorted, “my people admire me as much as I adore them, as a proper King does.” He stroked his beard and his eyes acquired that far-away look Gudden had come to despise. “I must return to them… yes I must go back…” He started to turn away towards the south.
Stunned, Gudden though he might actually try to escape. But more probably he was simply forgetting that he was under arrest at all. ”Your highness!” Gudden reached out an arm but couldn’t quite bring himself to restrain the other man. ”Your highness, the Government—“
“Traitors! Every one of them!” He threw up one hand in disgust and continued to walk away from Gudden. “My people will not stand for them! Nor will Bismarck cooperate with such illegitimate scum! I must return at once.”
Bismarck? Gudden shook his head in disbelief. The man truly was out of his head. Was there no way to get through at all?
“The hell?” Willie was puzzled.
“I don’t know either,” Thomas bit his lip. “Well, it’s not like we’re going to get a better chance, though, is it?” He looked at his partner.
Willie mulled for a moment, then shrugged, “I suppose not.”
Thomas nodded, and they both rose from their crouch.
Gudden didn’t notice anything. He was still following his charge, when the younger man spun to his left and shouted a curse. Gudden, perplexed, followed the gesture more slowly. Then he saw the two men who had burst from the tree cover and were rushing towards them, one brandishing a revolver.
“Spies! Blackguards!” shouted the wild-haired man. “My kingdom cannot fall this way!”
The men were wearing uniforms. They were vaguely like those of the Royal Bavarian Army, but noticeably different, gaudier. Gudden didn’t have time to sort it all out before one of them crashed into him. The wind was knocked from Gudden’s lungs and before he could catch his breath again, his head and body were plunged into the icy waters of the lake behind him.
The shock of the blow and the cold and Gudden’s terror caused his heart to fail. He struggled for less than a minute before his weak hands could no longer claw at the crushing weight above him.
The two men finished their short, brutal work with silent efficiency. When it was over, they melted back into the forest as easily as they had emerged.
The searchers found the bodies a few hours later, floating in the shallow waters. They never found the revolver which Thomas Maxwell had dropped and which bore the engraved crown and Latin motto of an organization which didn’t exist.
Which was just as well, thought the Swiss man as he dug in his pockets for a match to light his pipe. There would be enough mystery already without adding outright paradoxes to the mix. He found the match, struck it, and dipped it into the bowl of his pipe. It was time to go.
South of Donauwörth, Operwelt. June 2, 2006.
“In summary,” Münchhausen concluded, “these documents are the strongest evidence yet acquired that your government had the Swan King Ludwig assassinated one hundred and twenty years ago, Mr. Blake.” The Baron folded his fingers and smile was no less predatory for its pleasant pretensions.
Not for the first time, Jay wished he still had his notepad and pen.
Book One, Chapter:
-1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10-11-12-13-14-15-16-17-18-19-20-21-
-22-23-24-25-26-27-28-29-30-31-32-33-34-35-36-37-38-39-40-41-42-
-43-44-45-46-47-48-49-50-51-52-53-54-55-56-57-58-59-60-61-62-
Appendix: -A-B-C-
The watch was heavy, as it should be, and the Swiss man could feel the vibrations its precisely tuned mechanism operating through the dense metal case in his hand. The dulled silvery surface did not catch the light of the setting sun, and the Swiss man was certain that he had not been seen. Nor would he. He looked at the watch hands for a while longer as they marked fate’s approach. Then he returned the timepiece to his pocket. It was his job to be certain.
* * *
“Something is gravely wrong here, Thomas,” muttered the taller man. “Are we certain about this?”
“Oy,” Thomas grunted, “the loony dame said Berg, so we’re in Berg, what more do you want of me?”
“I want to know how we got from the Chiemsee all the hell away out here!” the other man pleaded.
“Yeah? So do I,” Thomas set his teeth in frustration. “The Krauts have all sorts of weirdness these days, Willie, why not a tunnel to Füssen too?”
“That weren’t any tunnel, Thomas,” Willie shook is head. “You know it weren’t.”
Thomas didn’t have anything to say to that, and they walked in silence for a moment. Then he snorted dismissively, “Well it doesn’t bloody matter, does it?” He pushed away some branches as they approached the edge of the trees and the bank of the lake. “We’ve still got the job to—“
Willie saw it first, and he grabbed Thomas by collar and dragged him backwards to keep him behind the tree line. Thomas followed his partner’s pointing gesture and they both fell into a silent crouch.
The strange twists fate had recently dealt them were about to be repaid in full and with interest.
* * *
“Your highness,” Gudden’s voice reflected his exasperation, “please sign the Instrument. You must know it is the only way!”
The man with the wild hair made a sharp, broad gesture causing his black frock coat to ripple in the light breeze. “I will not sign over my kingdom, my kingdom and my people, to this—this treasonous putsch of my bastard uncle!” Gudden winced at the roar of his words and hoped this walk hadn’t been a bad idea. It wouldn’t do for the townspeople to be disturbed by the shouting.
Gudden took a deep breath, hoping careful words might calm the other man, “Your highness, your people… they do not know you. All your time is spent away in your castles and your kingdom goes neglected. The—”
The other man cut him off, “Nonsense,” he snorted, “my people admire me as much as I adore them, as a proper King does.” He stroked his beard and his eyes acquired that far-away look Gudden had come to despise. “I must return to them… yes I must go back…” He started to turn away towards the south.
Stunned, Gudden though he might actually try to escape. But more probably he was simply forgetting that he was under arrest at all. ”Your highness!” Gudden reached out an arm but couldn’t quite bring himself to restrain the other man. ”Your highness, the Government—“
“Traitors! Every one of them!” He threw up one hand in disgust and continued to walk away from Gudden. “My people will not stand for them! Nor will Bismarck cooperate with such illegitimate scum! I must return at once.”
Bismarck? Gudden shook his head in disbelief. The man truly was out of his head. Was there no way to get through at all?
* * *
“The hell?” Willie was puzzled.
“I don’t know either,” Thomas bit his lip. “Well, it’s not like we’re going to get a better chance, though, is it?” He looked at his partner.
Willie mulled for a moment, then shrugged, “I suppose not.”
Thomas nodded, and they both rose from their crouch.
* * *
Gudden didn’t notice anything. He was still following his charge, when the younger man spun to his left and shouted a curse. Gudden, perplexed, followed the gesture more slowly. Then he saw the two men who had burst from the tree cover and were rushing towards them, one brandishing a revolver.
“Spies! Blackguards!” shouted the wild-haired man. “My kingdom cannot fall this way!”
The men were wearing uniforms. They were vaguely like those of the Royal Bavarian Army, but noticeably different, gaudier. Gudden didn’t have time to sort it all out before one of them crashed into him. The wind was knocked from Gudden’s lungs and before he could catch his breath again, his head and body were plunged into the icy waters of the lake behind him.
The shock of the blow and the cold and Gudden’s terror caused his heart to fail. He struggled for less than a minute before his weak hands could no longer claw at the crushing weight above him.
* * *
The two men finished their short, brutal work with silent efficiency. When it was over, they melted back into the forest as easily as they had emerged.
The searchers found the bodies a few hours later, floating in the shallow waters. They never found the revolver which Thomas Maxwell had dropped and which bore the engraved crown and Latin motto of an organization which didn’t exist.
Which was just as well, thought the Swiss man as he dug in his pockets for a match to light his pipe. There would be enough mystery already without adding outright paradoxes to the mix. He found the match, struck it, and dipped it into the bowl of his pipe. It was time to go.
* * *
South of Donauwörth, Operwelt. June 2, 2006.
“In summary,” Münchhausen concluded, “these documents are the strongest evidence yet acquired that your government had the Swan King Ludwig assassinated one hundred and twenty years ago, Mr. Blake.” The Baron folded his fingers and smile was no less predatory for its pleasant pretensions.
Not for the first time, Jay wished he still had his notepad and pen.
Book One, Chapter:
-1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10-11-12-13-14-15-16-17-18-19-20-21-
-22-23-24-25-26-27-28-29-30-31-32-33-34-35-36-37-38-39-40-41-42-
-43-44-45-46-47-48-49-50-51-52-53-54-55-56-57-58-59-60-61-62-
Appendix: -A-B-C-