Post by Lorpius Prime on May 1, 2008 4:04:30 GMT -5
Margaret was angrier than she had ever been in her life. She was enraged, furious, her blood was boiling, her hands were clenched into shaking fists and she didn’t even care. In fact, she rather wanted to use those fists to break the jaw of the rather alarmed-looking man in front of her. She took another step toward him.
“Of course I’m going, you pea-brained, clodhopping, worthless little twit! I’d just like to see you try to keep me here!”
Martin Bozeman Holland almost took a step backwards before he caught himself. An unlit cigarette dangled limp and forgotten from the corner of his mouth as he stared in utter astonishment at the livid young woman. He hadn’t realized what a hornet’s nest he would be kicking over when he told her.
He held up a hand with the book of matches he had been fumbling with before she pounced and tried to regain control of the situation. “Miss Blake—“ he began.
Margaret slapped his hand aside, “Don’t you ‘Miss Blake’ me, you stuttering buffoon! I won’t be condescended to by a sad-sack government lapdog like yourself! I don’t care how shiny your boots are or how many medals you have, what makes you think you can tell me my business? What gives you the right to meddle with my family, Colonel Holland? If my father were here, he’d have you thrown out on your arse, and don’t you think for an instant I won’t do the same!”
She kept crowding him, and this time Martin did step back. Appearance of authority be damned, there was such a thing as personal space, especially around a woman. But the heel of his shoe clipped the baseboard of the wall which she now had him backed up against.
Margaret was tall for a woman, but she was still about an inch shorter than Martin. Yet she felt a good foot or more taller as he shrank away from her, threatening to plow his back straight through the wall of the Blakes’ parlor. She bared her teeth and jabbed a menacing finger into his breastbone, taking a wicked delight in his gasp of shock.
“I will be on that airship if it means I have to get Rames to bludgeon you over the heard and search you for your ticket. Now save yourself the trouble and tell me which flight it is.” She poked him again for good measure.
Martin winced. He knew it was a bad idea, the worst thing he could possibly do however. He should avoid telling her at all costs, even if that meant running out the building right now and probably blowing his cover in the process. But for all his years of service and all his training, Martin couldn’t work up the necessary resistance. The Blake woman had him cornered and he simply did not know how to refuse her. So instead he made what was probably the biggest error of his entire career.
“It’s the Apollo, departing at a quarter-to-ten for Munich,” the words came out in a rush. He bit his tongue afterwards, futilely.
Margaret nodded once, “It is Munich, then. Good.” She didn’t step away from him, but at least she leaned back a little to fold her arms. Martin let out a deep breath.
“Hmmph,” Margaret glared at him, and Martin tensed up for a moment as if she’d struck him.
She turned away abruptly, “I will be taking a carriage to the air station at nine. If you wish to accompany me then I suggest you find my mother and apologize for the way you startled her like that in the middle of dinner, Colonel Holland. Otherwise you can walk there on your own wretched legs.” Margaret stalked off down the hallway.
Martin watched her go, and kept staring at the empty doorway for several minutes after she was gone as well. Eventually he regained the presence of mind to take the soggy cigarette from his mouth. Martin threw it away and returned the matches to his pocket, for he no longer felt like smoking.
He didn’t know what he had gotten himself into, nor how he was going to resolve it. But it was already proving to be more excitement than he had known for quite some time. Martin just wished he could be certain that was a good thing.
The giant, Richard, found a pair of folding chairs for Jay and Theodore. Jay sat down cautiously; the chair was identical to the one in which he had sat during his interview of Flemming Rose in Aarhus, and which had collapsed half-way through. This one didn’t fall apart immediately, but Jay didn’t relax. Richard resumed his watch over the door and Eleonore, if that was her real name, looked over her guests.
She tilted her head at Jay, “Sprechen Sie Deutsch, Herr Blake?”
“Uh, no. Nein,” Jay coughed. “Sorry.”
The actress—Jay wasn’t prepared to think of her as “Swan Queen” just yet—nodded and turned to Theodore, “Well then I think we can speak in English for your friend’s benefit.”
Theodore mulled for a moment before responding, “I was unsure about how far he should be trusted, which is why I have brought him to you. He seems to be an honest man, but…” Theodore shrugged.
One of Eleonore’s thin golden eyebrows rose, “Has Karl been getting to you, Theodore?” She smirked briefly, then went on in a more serious tone, “Do you know what’s happened there?”
Theodore looked at the floor and clenched the arms of his chair, “It seems Karl has betrayed us.”
Jay blinked and glanced between the two of them, trying to follow their conversation. Their hostess sighed deeply and leaned back against the desk counter behind her stool.
“I feared as much. That man never did have an ounce of patience.” She stood up and turned her back to them for a moment as she rummaged through the drawers beneath her desk. She turned around again with an ivory hairbrush and set to work with it. Jay found himself mesmerized by the way the light caught and glittered in her long hair. If she noticed his staring, she said nothing.
“I guess you were right all along,” she continued to Theodore. “Forgive me.”
Theodore shook his head, “There was no way to be certain. You had to make the best of what you had. Still, I am surprised to see that the armies have responded so quickly.”
Eleonore grimaced; she stopped brushing her hair and slammed the brush down on her countertop with a sudden snap. Jay jumped at the noise.
“I’m not.” She shook her head, as if ashamed. “All of Augsburg has risen. It was just yesterday, but… it’s already bad, Theodore. Very bad, if what I’m hearing is all true.”
“Now wait a moment,” Jay pushed himself up in his chair, “what’s happened in Augsburg? What’s bad?”
Theodore and Eleonore glanced at each other while Jay waited expectantly for an answer.
Theodore spoke first, “A revolt, Mr. Blake. Augsburg rose against the occupation last night.”
Jay blinked; he hadn’t seen the slightest indication of any such thing when he had been in Augsburg with Theodore a day ago. But Eleonore nodded in agreement, “They’ve already managed to seal off the city. The army began shelling this morning.”
Jay’s jaw hung open. It simply wasn’t believable. His eyes turned slowly to Theodore when the other man opened his mouth to speak again.
“The bad is that the revolters have almost certainly begun to slaughter every enemy agent they can get their hands on, uniformed or citizen collaborators.” Again, Eleonore nodded in grave agreement, though she said nothing.
“Collaborators,” Jay’s mouth formed the word silently a few times. “But you can’t be serious. The city’s been occupied for over a century, everyone is a collaborator!”
Theodore shook his head again, in sadness, “Collaborators will be whoever Baron Münchhausen decides they are.”
Jay still couldn’t get his mind around it. “Why?” he demanded. “How do you even know all of this?” his voice rose in agitation.
Eleonore made a soothing gesture, “Please, Mr. Blake.” Jay flushed and settled into the chair again, trying to control his breathing. “Actually, I think you are the why, Mr. Blake,” she went on. “If I understand things correctly?” She looked at Theodore, who nodded.
“Karl has been impatient to start the revolt for decades, Mr. Blake,” Eleonore explained. “He knows my husband is returning and has always said he wants to have things ‘ready’ for him on that day. We have always been able to restrain him before, but it would seem that whatever you brought gave him the final reason, or perhaps weapon, to go ahead anyway.”
Too many questions were being raised too quickly for Jay to keep track, “But all I had… no… your husband is returning? What?”
“Yes, Ludwig is coming back,” she said simply.
Jay raised his hands to his temples in an attempt to contain the madness in his head, or perhaps to keep the madness out, he really wasn’t sure.
“Ludwig the Swan King is a hundred and twenty years dead!” he protested. “I’m really supposed to believe you’re his wife? You’d have to be a century-and-a-half old yourself, at least!”
“I will be seven-hundred-and-six this September,” came the flat reply.
Jay stared. He glanced briefly at Theodore but the young German didn’t seem to see anything wrong with this conversation himself.
“You’re mad,” Jay muttered. “You’re all barking, raving mad!” He stood up, “How do I keep falling in with you people?! You’re worse than Jack! At least he admitted he’d never seen any of his imaginary critters!”
“Jack?” Eleonore asked.
“Mr. Blake’s companion when he met Karl,” Theodore answered. “I understand he was something of an eccentric.”
“He was out of his bloody mind is what he was!” Jay shouted, too frustrated to stop himself from insulting the dead. “Wanted to sneak himself into Russia. And if that weren’t madness enough, he wanted to do it so he could hunt for dragons, of all things!”
For the first since they had entered the little dressing room, the fourth occupant, Richard, made a noise. He only chuckled, but the sound resonated like bass drums; the man had to have lungs the size of Jay’s lost suitcase.
Eleonore laughed too, and beckoned towards her sentry by the door as Jay looked over his shoulder at the hooded giant in contempt. Richard walked forward to join the little circle of the group.
“Your friend may not have been so mad as you think. Richard, would you tell Mr. Blake about dragons?”
Jay rolled his eyes and braced himself for another wild story. He really needed to be figuring out how to get himself away from all of this, but he didn’t even know where to begin. So he would have to suffer the madness a while longer.
But instead of launching into another fairy tale, Richard simply pulled his hood back from over his head. Jay nearly died on the spot, for beneath those robes was not a giant man, but another creature altogether. Its head looked like an odd mash-up of those of an eagle and a crocodile, with great yellow eyes and a serpentine neck. It laughed again, a whole concert of drums this time, while Jay tried to come to terms with the reality of the very first dragon he had ever met.
“Of course I’m going, you pea-brained, clodhopping, worthless little twit! I’d just like to see you try to keep me here!”
Martin Bozeman Holland almost took a step backwards before he caught himself. An unlit cigarette dangled limp and forgotten from the corner of his mouth as he stared in utter astonishment at the livid young woman. He hadn’t realized what a hornet’s nest he would be kicking over when he told her.
He held up a hand with the book of matches he had been fumbling with before she pounced and tried to regain control of the situation. “Miss Blake—“ he began.
Margaret slapped his hand aside, “Don’t you ‘Miss Blake’ me, you stuttering buffoon! I won’t be condescended to by a sad-sack government lapdog like yourself! I don’t care how shiny your boots are or how many medals you have, what makes you think you can tell me my business? What gives you the right to meddle with my family, Colonel Holland? If my father were here, he’d have you thrown out on your arse, and don’t you think for an instant I won’t do the same!”
She kept crowding him, and this time Martin did step back. Appearance of authority be damned, there was such a thing as personal space, especially around a woman. But the heel of his shoe clipped the baseboard of the wall which she now had him backed up against.
Margaret was tall for a woman, but she was still about an inch shorter than Martin. Yet she felt a good foot or more taller as he shrank away from her, threatening to plow his back straight through the wall of the Blakes’ parlor. She bared her teeth and jabbed a menacing finger into his breastbone, taking a wicked delight in his gasp of shock.
“I will be on that airship if it means I have to get Rames to bludgeon you over the heard and search you for your ticket. Now save yourself the trouble and tell me which flight it is.” She poked him again for good measure.
Martin winced. He knew it was a bad idea, the worst thing he could possibly do however. He should avoid telling her at all costs, even if that meant running out the building right now and probably blowing his cover in the process. But for all his years of service and all his training, Martin couldn’t work up the necessary resistance. The Blake woman had him cornered and he simply did not know how to refuse her. So instead he made what was probably the biggest error of his entire career.
“It’s the Apollo, departing at a quarter-to-ten for Munich,” the words came out in a rush. He bit his tongue afterwards, futilely.
Margaret nodded once, “It is Munich, then. Good.” She didn’t step away from him, but at least she leaned back a little to fold her arms. Martin let out a deep breath.
“Hmmph,” Margaret glared at him, and Martin tensed up for a moment as if she’d struck him.
She turned away abruptly, “I will be taking a carriage to the air station at nine. If you wish to accompany me then I suggest you find my mother and apologize for the way you startled her like that in the middle of dinner, Colonel Holland. Otherwise you can walk there on your own wretched legs.” Margaret stalked off down the hallway.
Martin watched her go, and kept staring at the empty doorway for several minutes after she was gone as well. Eventually he regained the presence of mind to take the soggy cigarette from his mouth. Martin threw it away and returned the matches to his pocket, for he no longer felt like smoking.
He didn’t know what he had gotten himself into, nor how he was going to resolve it. But it was already proving to be more excitement than he had known for quite some time. Martin just wished he could be certain that was a good thing.
* * *
The giant, Richard, found a pair of folding chairs for Jay and Theodore. Jay sat down cautiously; the chair was identical to the one in which he had sat during his interview of Flemming Rose in Aarhus, and which had collapsed half-way through. This one didn’t fall apart immediately, but Jay didn’t relax. Richard resumed his watch over the door and Eleonore, if that was her real name, looked over her guests.
She tilted her head at Jay, “Sprechen Sie Deutsch, Herr Blake?”
“Uh, no. Nein,” Jay coughed. “Sorry.”
The actress—Jay wasn’t prepared to think of her as “Swan Queen” just yet—nodded and turned to Theodore, “Well then I think we can speak in English for your friend’s benefit.”
Theodore mulled for a moment before responding, “I was unsure about how far he should be trusted, which is why I have brought him to you. He seems to be an honest man, but…” Theodore shrugged.
One of Eleonore’s thin golden eyebrows rose, “Has Karl been getting to you, Theodore?” She smirked briefly, then went on in a more serious tone, “Do you know what’s happened there?”
Theodore looked at the floor and clenched the arms of his chair, “It seems Karl has betrayed us.”
Jay blinked and glanced between the two of them, trying to follow their conversation. Their hostess sighed deeply and leaned back against the desk counter behind her stool.
“I feared as much. That man never did have an ounce of patience.” She stood up and turned her back to them for a moment as she rummaged through the drawers beneath her desk. She turned around again with an ivory hairbrush and set to work with it. Jay found himself mesmerized by the way the light caught and glittered in her long hair. If she noticed his staring, she said nothing.
“I guess you were right all along,” she continued to Theodore. “Forgive me.”
Theodore shook his head, “There was no way to be certain. You had to make the best of what you had. Still, I am surprised to see that the armies have responded so quickly.”
Eleonore grimaced; she stopped brushing her hair and slammed the brush down on her countertop with a sudden snap. Jay jumped at the noise.
“I’m not.” She shook her head, as if ashamed. “All of Augsburg has risen. It was just yesterday, but… it’s already bad, Theodore. Very bad, if what I’m hearing is all true.”
“Now wait a moment,” Jay pushed himself up in his chair, “what’s happened in Augsburg? What’s bad?”
Theodore and Eleonore glanced at each other while Jay waited expectantly for an answer.
Theodore spoke first, “A revolt, Mr. Blake. Augsburg rose against the occupation last night.”
Jay blinked; he hadn’t seen the slightest indication of any such thing when he had been in Augsburg with Theodore a day ago. But Eleonore nodded in agreement, “They’ve already managed to seal off the city. The army began shelling this morning.”
Jay’s jaw hung open. It simply wasn’t believable. His eyes turned slowly to Theodore when the other man opened his mouth to speak again.
“The bad is that the revolters have almost certainly begun to slaughter every enemy agent they can get their hands on, uniformed or citizen collaborators.” Again, Eleonore nodded in grave agreement, though she said nothing.
“Collaborators,” Jay’s mouth formed the word silently a few times. “But you can’t be serious. The city’s been occupied for over a century, everyone is a collaborator!”
Theodore shook his head again, in sadness, “Collaborators will be whoever Baron Münchhausen decides they are.”
Jay still couldn’t get his mind around it. “Why?” he demanded. “How do you even know all of this?” his voice rose in agitation.
Eleonore made a soothing gesture, “Please, Mr. Blake.” Jay flushed and settled into the chair again, trying to control his breathing. “Actually, I think you are the why, Mr. Blake,” she went on. “If I understand things correctly?” She looked at Theodore, who nodded.
“Karl has been impatient to start the revolt for decades, Mr. Blake,” Eleonore explained. “He knows my husband is returning and has always said he wants to have things ‘ready’ for him on that day. We have always been able to restrain him before, but it would seem that whatever you brought gave him the final reason, or perhaps weapon, to go ahead anyway.”
Too many questions were being raised too quickly for Jay to keep track, “But all I had… no… your husband is returning? What?”
“Yes, Ludwig is coming back,” she said simply.
Jay raised his hands to his temples in an attempt to contain the madness in his head, or perhaps to keep the madness out, he really wasn’t sure.
“Ludwig the Swan King is a hundred and twenty years dead!” he protested. “I’m really supposed to believe you’re his wife? You’d have to be a century-and-a-half old yourself, at least!”
“I will be seven-hundred-and-six this September,” came the flat reply.
Jay stared. He glanced briefly at Theodore but the young German didn’t seem to see anything wrong with this conversation himself.
“You’re mad,” Jay muttered. “You’re all barking, raving mad!” He stood up, “How do I keep falling in with you people?! You’re worse than Jack! At least he admitted he’d never seen any of his imaginary critters!”
“Jack?” Eleonore asked.
“Mr. Blake’s companion when he met Karl,” Theodore answered. “I understand he was something of an eccentric.”
“He was out of his bloody mind is what he was!” Jay shouted, too frustrated to stop himself from insulting the dead. “Wanted to sneak himself into Russia. And if that weren’t madness enough, he wanted to do it so he could hunt for dragons, of all things!”
For the first since they had entered the little dressing room, the fourth occupant, Richard, made a noise. He only chuckled, but the sound resonated like bass drums; the man had to have lungs the size of Jay’s lost suitcase.
Eleonore laughed too, and beckoned towards her sentry by the door as Jay looked over his shoulder at the hooded giant in contempt. Richard walked forward to join the little circle of the group.
“Your friend may not have been so mad as you think. Richard, would you tell Mr. Blake about dragons?”
Jay rolled his eyes and braced himself for another wild story. He really needed to be figuring out how to get himself away from all of this, but he didn’t even know where to begin. So he would have to suffer the madness a while longer.
But instead of launching into another fairy tale, Richard simply pulled his hood back from over his head. Jay nearly died on the spot, for beneath those robes was not a giant man, but another creature altogether. Its head looked like an odd mash-up of those of an eagle and a crocodile, with great yellow eyes and a serpentine neck. It laughed again, a whole concert of drums this time, while Jay tried to come to terms with the reality of the very first dragon he had ever met.