“You suggested that last time we were here.”
“Well it was a good idea then and it still is now. I have no idea why they don’t modernize. I mean look around,” she said waving at the very modern towers in the distance where dozens of airships and aetherships were moored. “It’s not like they don’t know about the modern world, they’re a bloomin’ hub for trade, don’t ya know!”
“Not everyone is so hell-bent on getting to the future, lass,” Winston chimed in. “They are a fairly wealthy town, one that’s rooted in their history. Like so many places, all they had to rely on was each other for many years after the Great Calamity. The Black Forest came alive with the legends of yore, and by keeping their town rustic, they keep themselves who they wanted to be. It’s why the Von Fersches have remained here over the years. That, and their special set of skills has always kept them in high demand.”
The old Scot had said all of this with a wistful air which told Wingnut and the others he was clearly thinking about Evelyn.
“You think of her often still, do you not?” asked Afa.
“Aye lad, that I do. We made a lot of memories together. Our life was full, with more than our share of adventures during our time on the Kingship.”
Wingnut looked at Winston and understood something about him that had eluded her for years. He had refused a stateroom simply because he preferred to stay in the same crew quarters he had shared with his shipmate turned wife all those years ago. Everyone held on to lost loved ones in their own way she figured. Not everyone had her gift of subtile clairsentience, so thus staying in a room containing so many happy memories seemed nearly as good.
Burd skillfully pulled the subject matter back to Wingnut’s own musings. “Besides, it’s all a sham anyway, this rustic lifestyle. I mean, look at the fortifications on the outer wall. Plasmatic gatling. And over there by the east entrance? Steam powered, armored walkers. It wouldn’t surprise me if they had a few rocket troops on hand.” He glanced over at Vance and added with his usual sarcasm, “I wonder if they’re hiring. I mean, the pay might be better. And I wouldn’t have to sail under some uncouth American either.”
This drew chuckles from the other four. Vance added, “Call me an uncouth American all you will. Where do you hail from Burd? Oh that’s right, Australia. You’re lucky they even allow you within the bounds of the British Isles.”
“Well, there is still that warrant.”
“True. Who keeps you cloaked from the effects of that warrant?” Vance replied with a smile. “Though, yeah, we probably should do something about that sooner or later.”
Wingnut enjoyed times like these with the crew. Over the past seven years they had grown to more than a mere semblance of a family, sharing in the good times as well as bad. The jovial attitude helped her in the tough times. She seldom got motivated to return to Tullamore to see her real family, as the warmth of the crew created a greater sense of kin than she was used to, making the Kingship her first home, Tullamore a distant second.
They continued their evening stroll through town. Several passers by nodded to them warmly, a handful recognizing them from their previous visits, including some of the town watch. The flat terrain gave way to a hillier section, and they ascended a hillside towards the Von Fersch manor. It was a large house, one of several on the hill, occupied by some of the wealthiest and most influential people in Oppenau. While most of these mansions looked distinctly Bavarian in their design, the Von Fersch home stood out with its much darker, Gothic architecture, complete with carved gargoyles and black wrought iron fencing. Molly would never dare approach it unescorted, had she not known the generosity of the family who dwelt therein. She figured the macabre style suited the family as they had amassed their fortune over several generations by dealing with the unexplained. Be it a haunting, black magic, or even a vampire, if it went bump in the night, the Von Fersch family were the ones to call upon. Since the Great Calamity, the Black Forest had become one of many hotbeds of unexplained activity and their fame in such dealings had spread throughout much of Eastern Europe. Winston’s late wife, Evelyn, had been a paranormal investigator, a skill set that had placed her on the Kingship as a young woman of seventeen. Shortly thereafter she caught the eye of the dashing young pilot, Winston. After a long and tempestuous courtship the two had been married by Vance’s grandfather Dyson, the then captain of the Kingship whom they both served under. Winston had told the tale to Wingnut on several occasions and she never grew tired of it, possibly due to the fact that two star crossed lovers serving on an aethership together had so many parallels with her own story. Winston’s tale was the far more cheerful one however, their mortal relationship only ending after decades upon decades of blissful marriage, closing with the natural course of age. Though Winston thought of Evelyn often, he never seemed to mourn. His experience sharing his life with a paranormal expert had taught him a surety of the duration of the Spirit beyond this brief existence called life. Molly had been raised Catholic, and while her religion spoke of an afterlife, she had always found the words empty, even as she struggled to believe them. Her time with Winston, coupled with her own gift of clairsentience, gave her much needed hope that even if her priest had not known the depth and weight of his own words, true they were nonetheless.
The crew arrived on the front doorstep of the manor. Afa lifted the heavy bronze ring of the wolf carved knocker at the center of the heavy door and let it fall three times. Within seconds it was pulled open and a warm, welcoming glow emanated from therein, contrasting everything about the outside of the large main building. A man, who would have appeared large in stature had Afa not been present, stood in the doorway. He was very well dressed, decked out in evening wear befitting a gentleman of stature. Wingnut recognized him as Heinrich Von Fersch, Winston’s nephew-in law. At least, that’s what she believed the relationship to be, the family being so large she often had a hard time keeping track. Wingnut felt it spoke to the type of family the Von Fersches were, that the master of the house answered the door for his friends and family, rather than having one of their butlers or maids do it.
“Winston, you filthy old Scot!” Heinrich exclaimed enveloping him in a bear hug and lifting the kilted, spry old man off the ground. “Children,” he called into the house. “Your no-good pirate of a great uncle is here!”
Winston was set down as swarms of children appeared, seemingly out of nowhere spilling across the threshold planting kisses and giving hugs to the beaming pilot. Turning to Vance Heinrich continued, “Guten Abend, Herr Hauptmann.”
Smiling the captain replied, “Danke fur die Einladung wir zum Abendessen Heinrich.”
The two gave a few more quick exchanges in German, but not so long as to exclude the other members of the party. Vance tended to take every opportunity to practice his languages wherever he traveled, a talent Wingnut admired. Though she remembered the smattering of Gaelic her mother had made her learn, she really only spoke two languages, Irish accented English and angry Irish accented English. By her last count, Vance spoke nearly a dozen, and could swear in probably a dozen more.
“Come in, come in, my friends! Dinner is minutes from being ready and I’m sure you could all use a drink.”
The crew followed Heinrich into the manor. Winston was already being dragged further in by the chaotic herd of small children. From his satchel and sporran he pulled candies that were quickly gobbled up by the blonde headed bunch. Laughter echoed throughout the spacious halls and rooms where they were led, a joyful counterpart to the grim trappings of the dwelling. The group arrived at and passed through the very large, very formal dining room which seemed to be used infrequently. Curious devices resided in glass cases along the walls, machines used in the investigation and combat of supernatural forces. There were things that looked to be some sort of detection or early warning device, goggles that did God knows what, armor engraved with arcane symbols, electrified nets, and a host of otherworldly weaponry. These items made Wingnut’s f
ingers itch, she wanted to be able to heft them, get a feel for them, and ultimately understand how these strange technologies worked. A handful of systems on the Kingship bore similarly designed components; vacuum tubes containing crystals, strange brassy bits with pressure gauges
having no discernible purpose, and power sources which defied all of her mechanical knowledge and clairsentience. In many ways she was reminded of the strange radio-like panel on the bridge that had been the source of curiosity and angst from the crew. Studying these might help her understand it, and the rest of the Kingship better as Wingnut knew the vessel was capable of far more than they were presently getting out of her. After trying and failing on several occasions to figure out the ship’s odder systems, the mystery of them had become more of an occasional hobby. Even her clairsentience had been stymied by those enigmatic sections of the Kingship. Burd was also taking a keen interest in the glass-cased tools of the Von Fersch trade, particularly those resembling weapons. Wingnut noticed he was practically drooling over what looked to be a gas powered rifle complete with a quiver of wooden and silver bolts.
“You like that one, Cornelius?” Heinrich asked Burd. “With a full gas canister I can get almost two hundred yards.”
Burd whistled, “I would love to see that in action.”
Heinrich laughed, “Well, after dinner we can retire to the firing range in the basement and you can have a go with it.”
“You have a firing range in your basement?” Vance asked.
“Doesn’t everybody?” Heinrich replied with a grin.
Wingnut decided now was as good a time as any to ask. “Heinrich, I was wonderin’ who is the genius that designs all of your equipment?”
“Well, there’s quite a few of us actually. Mostly we come up with ideas after we work in the field. Nothing like being chased by a werewolf to motivate you into designing a better mousetrap so to speak!”
Everyone laughed at the reference, though it probably was true. Wingnut continued, “Yes but where do you even start? I’ve been tinkerin’ since I was knee high to me mother’s apron strings. I’ve bloody rebuilt some of the most advanced turbines and levitite drives on a half mile long aethership and I can’t even begin to wrap my head around what I see here.”
It was the uncomfortable glance Heinrich gave to Vance and Burd followed by a heavy, palpable silence that infuriated Wingnut. “What are you boys not tellin’ me? Come on now, out with it!”
A nod from Vance to Heinrich got him speaking again, “Molly, most of the things you see here were influenced, at least initially, by a collaboration and sharing of ideas with the Brotherhood of the Strange.”
It was as if someone had thrown a bucket of ice water down her spine. Whatever the source of the Von Fersch’s gadgetry, Wingnut certainly did not expect to hear that name associated with such dear friends. “Are you bloody insane?” she shrieked. “I thought this family’d have far more sense than to be wheelin’ and dealin’ with those bastards. Do ya think just because you deal with the dead that their...”
“That’s enough Molly,” the captain said softly but firmly. Fortunately, the children had dragged Winston onward deeper into the manor thus sparing their little ears her tirade. “We are guests in this house and you will not insult them with your caterwauling.”
“It’s alright Vance,” Heinrich stated. “I would be upset as well. Molly, our family severed all ties with the Brotherhood almost six years ago. They are not what they once were. My father used to speak highly of them, but our dealings proved to be mired in bureaucracy. Worse, those of us Von Fersches who are sensitive to otherworldly things, felt increasingly concerned at where the organization was going. Vance’s,” he paused then added, “and your experiences proved what we had suspected for several years. We may have designed devices for them in the past, but I assure you, we have nothing to do with them now. I’m sorry to bring up such unpleasantness on this happy evening.”
Before the conversation could get any more awkward for all present, Afa stepped forward and handed Heinrich a small book that looked extremely old. “Thank you for allowing me to borrow this. I found the reading of it to be quite enjoyable.”
Taking his cue to move on, Heinrich took the book in hand and inquired, “Did it have what you were looking for?”
Afa shook his head, “It was an interesting study, though it contained no new information on Paracelsus.”
“It was a long shot,” Heinrich agreed.” Well, while you are here, feel free to peruse the library. There are whole aisles we haven’t yet checked.”
“You’re too kind. I know many of these books are rare.”
Heinrich waved his hand dismissively, “What’s the point in having thousands of books if they never get read?”
“That reminds me,” Vance interjected. “I have some books for you I picked up in Japan. Mostly articles documenting the early Edo period. It’s probably nothing you haven’t already seen, I’m sorry to say.”
“I’m excited to see them nonetheless.”
“They’re in Kingship’s library,” Vance explained. “Come by tomorrow and we’ll have a look and see if there’s anything else that interests you.”
Despite the tragic reminders she had just received, Wingnut watched with amusement at the captain who was lost on a literary tangent and was grateful the conversation had moved on. The Kingship boasted an impressive, if compact, library on board, meant to give the visiting dignitaries another activity in the sometimes long journeys in remote parts of the globe. Wherever his travels took him, she noticed Vance would search out new books. Wingnut noted Afa was even more ravenous when it came to wisdom obtained from dusty tomes, though for entirely different and far more esoteric reasons. In fact it was the library onboard the Kingship that had been one of several deciding factors in the strange, polite Polynesian’s decision to travel with Vance and the crew “for a spell” as he had put it. Apparently “for a spell” was six years and counting. On their visits, it was not uncommon for Vance, Afa, and Heinrich to retire to either the manor's or the Kingship's library and not reemerge till morning, bleary eyed and discussing finer points on subjects that would make the most learned of professors’ heads spin.
“So,” Heinrich said. “What brings you to Germany this time of year? When we received word from Winston you were inbound a few days ago we were surprised. We were not expecting to see you all again so soon!”
Vance replied, “Business, my friend, as always.”
“Well, it’s good to see you all. How long will you be staying?”
“I imagine a few days. Oppenau is always profitable.” The captain added, “And spending time at the Von Fersches is never a waste. I hope we’re not imposing.”
Heinrich waved his hand dismissively, “Absolutely not! You know you are all always welcome under our roof.”
A chiming of the dinner bell interrupted their conversation and Heinrich led the party into a different dining room. This one showed far more use and was where the family of twenty-six usually dined together. Rough-hewn benches accompanied four long tables making for some tight quarters in the room, large though it was. Platters of traditional German foods took up most of the table acreage and the whole room was brightly lit by gaslight lanterns mounted on the stone walls. It was a room Wingnut was quite familiar with, having dined here on many occasions. Winston sat down at the children's table, much to the delight of the “wee laddies and lassies”. He would clearly be occupied for the remainder of the evening. The rest of the family came in and took their seats. A few servants stood near the tables, ready to fill wine and water glasses and to clear plates for another course. It seemed such a contradiction for the Von Fersches to keep hired servants. While the family was quite wealthy, observing the loving bustle of this dining room they certainly acted far more ‘salt of the earth’ than many from the upper classes acted. After a quick word of Grace, the feast began. Laughter and a full belly seemed to be far more important to the Von Fer
sches than observing every detail of propriety, an attribute Wingnut approved of. The excellent food combined with the hearty appetites paused ongoing conversation for a time but soon the crew was catching up with Heinrich and his wife, Anna. Burd seemed to be going out of his way to boyishly strike up conversation with Grace, one of Heinrich and Anna’s older daughters. Wingnut smiled at their ongoing exchange, both for the rascally boldness of Burd and how his antics seemed to be making the desired impression on the giggling, blonde woman. Through it all Wingnut ate little and said less. She had acted rashly, childishly even. It took a lot to make the captain call her out like that, and she wondered if she’d truly gone too far this time. He felt he owed her far too great a debt to challenge her feisty Irish temper all that often. She also knew Heinrich was not to blame. Nor was his huge family which served as another cold reminder of the plans she and Augustus once had. The blasted Brotherhood had tampered in more lives than she could count, not that she wanted to at the moment. Now knowing it resembled Brotherhood technology, she didn’t even want to think about the strange squawk box back on board. She was now inclined to agree with Winston, the less they dealt with it, the better. Dessert had been served and the servants were offering after dinner liqueurs. Wingnut needed something stronger. Making her apologies she politely withdrew from the Von Fersch manor. She had no desire to spend any more time in that quite literally haunted house, she had ghosts of her own to deal with tonight.
Finding a beer house in Oppenau was not difficult, yet choosing which of the fine establishments to attend was. She walked into one that was located near the aether and airship mooring towers. There she found a multinational assortment of rowdy folk, exactly what she was hoping for. She drew attention in her fine evening wear but paid it little heed. Ordering a pitcher of a fine german lager and several fingers of whiskey, she was soon drunk enough to enjoy a good old fashioned bar fight, a fight she started. In the process she knocked out a short, fat Ottoman with her empty stein, and a tall, skinny American with his own bar stool. It was not till some hours later, when the anger had turned to grief, that Vance showed up. He always showed up. Asking no questions, he paid her tab plus a generous tip, offered her his frock coat, and escorted her with her torn dress and ruined makeup, back to the Kingship.
Brotherhood of the Strange (Kingship, Tales from the Aether Book 1) Page 8