The great flying armada that accompanied Castle Wulfenbach was slowly regrouping. Mechanicsburg’s newly reactivated Torchmen clanks had driven it away like a swarm of bees fighting off an invasion of wasps. It now hovered two-and-a-half leagues8 to the north of the town as it saw to its reorganization and repair.
A squadron of damaged ships flashed a departure signal, then peeled off towards the already overtaxed repair yards at Sturmhalten. Other ships were covered with swarms of rigger-rats, busy replacing canvas or repairing hulls even as they hung at dizzying heights above the ground.
Aboard one small, unobtrusive vessel, an inner door burst open. The occupants of the room, who had been examining a large map of the town and its surroundings, leaped in surprise. One produced a knife, seemingly from thin air.
In the doorway stood Boris Dolokhov, second in command to Baron Wulfenbach and the man currently running the Empire of the Pax Transylvania while its master recuperated in hospital. Boris had a reputation as being perennially annoyed, but the man who stood framed in the doorway now radiated a controlled fury that had those who saw him, seasoned fighters all, slowly rising to their feet and flexing their claws. Boris’s normally fastidious appearance was marred by several bruises on his face and one of his four arms hung limp. His suit was tattered and looked as though he had been in a fight. Several fights.
General Khrizhan, who was easily the most level-headed of the three Jägermonster generals, gave him a wary nod. “Gospodin Dolokhov. How did hyu find us?”
Boris removed a handkerchief from an inner pocket and delicately dabbed it at his lip. “Your messenger told me.”
The three generals glanced at each other. Khrizhan raised his chin defensively. “He vould not.”
The Baron had been declared hors de combat, and Boris was in the process of coordinating the current situation vis-a-vis Mechanicsburg. There had been a sudden disruption at the door, and a Jägermonster officer had sauntered in. “Hey dere, Meester Boris bug man!”
Boris swore under his breath. Then a sudden realization made him frown. “Wait a minute . . . ” The Jägers had been created by the Heterodynes. Because of this, the news of Agatha’s existence had been carefully kept from them. In advance of the empire’s sally into this neighborhood, every Jägermonster that served the empire had been plausibly dispatched to far-flung locations. He flipped through a stack of troop movement reports. “What are you even doing here? All of you Jägers are supposed to be up north.”
The Jäger carefully collected a stack of paperwork, then sat on it. “Heh. Yez, vell, sveethot, ve gots a message for hyu.” He smiled at Boris. “Ve quit.”
Boris carefully adjusted his pince-nez. “I don’t have time for jokes.”
The Jäger shrugged insouciantly. “No joke, sport. Iz a message direct from de generals.”
“Obviously I need to talk to them. Where are they?”
The Jäger laughed uproariously. “Vell dey ain’t got time to vaste talkin’ to hyu.” He unwound himself from his chair and leaned over to gently pat Boris’s cheek. “Iz hyu disappointed ve ain’t gunna be around anymore?” He smiled toothily. “Tell hyu vat. Hy let hyu get vun punch in to treasure in hyu old age.” He then cracked his knuckles. “Or ven hyu vakes op.”
Without breaking eye contact, Boris dragged his fourth arm into view. Grasped firmly in his hand was a severely beaten and battered Jäger, whom he allowed to drop with a thud to the deck. “Oh,” he allowed, “not right away . . . ”
The generals stared down in shock until Zog, the oldest, threw his head back with a roar of delighted laughter. He tossed the knife in his hand upwards with a flourish, and it performed a delicate pirouette before sliding cleanly into the scabbard at his hip. “Hyu haz earned the right to a tok.” He turned to the astonished Khrizhan and smacked him on the arm. “Alexi! Get some tea for our guest.” He reached back and spun a chair into place at their table. “Zo tok.”
As the injured Jäger was taken away, Boris nodded, took a seat, and fastidiously adjusted his cuffs. A tall glass of tea was quietly set down before him. Zog sat opposite and studied him openly. In his opinion, Boris was under a great deal of stress. More so than usual. The man did periodically take over the reins of the Baron’s empire without trouble, but these were, unquestionably, extraordinary times.
Boris took a deep breath in through his nose. “You say you are leaving the Baron’s service.”
Zog nodded. “Dere iz a Heterodyne. Dot vos the contingency.”
“She is not official. She has not taken the Castle. The Doom Bell has not rung.”
Zog ground his teeth together in annoyance. “Feh! Technicalities! Ennyvay, ve half not entered de town, yah?”
Boris rolled his eyes. “You mean your troops haven’t climbed up a set of stairs!”
Zog was unpleasantly surprised. “Oho!” He blustered, “Vot hyu—”
He was interrupted by Boris slamming two of his hands on the table. “No! Nonono! We cannot fight! Not now!” He looked at the other generals. “We need you. The empire needs you.”
Zog waved a hand dismissively. “De Baron haz gots lots of troops. Thousands.” He smiled. “Sum ov dem might even gif us a goot fight.”
To his disappointment, Boris did not rise to the bait, but nodded seriously instead. “Granted. But everyone knows that the Jägers serve the House of Heterodyne. If you acknowledge this girl prematurely, it could fuel trouble all over Europa.”
Zog shrugged and scratched at his chin. “Yah, dot’s true. Could be ve’s in for goot times. Lotsa fightin’. Lotsa fun.”
Boris folded his arms. “Oh really? And how will your new Heterodyne like that sort of chaos—if she takes after her father and uncle?”
Zog looked like he had bitten into a particularly bitter bug. He glanced at his compatriots. General Goomblast considered this. “Her papa?” He wiggled a hand to indicate that it was an open question. Then he sighed, “But she does seem more like her oncle den her papa, yah?”
The others nodded. General Khrizhan cleared his throat and tried to look reasonable. “Hyu said ‘prematurely’?”
Boris took a sip of tea. “I did.” He looked at the three old generals. “Wait. Wait until she takes the Castle. Wait until the Doom Bell rings. Wait until the Baron formally releases you back into her service.” He spread his hands. “Let the people of Europa see that the Law of the Wulfenbach Empire still holds.”
Zog frowned. “Und let de pipple see dot de Heterodyne submits to dose laws, hey?”
Goomblast clicked his claws together. “Brodders, Meester Boris makes a goot point.”
Zog’s fur bristled. “Empire law . . . ”
Khrizhan leaned in. “Dun alvays tink ov youself, Zog. Dis vay, Meez Agatha ken choose her first var.”
Zog’s eyebrows shot up and he looked at his fellow general with new respect. “Ooh, dot is very true, Alexi.” He leaned in to Boris and explained, “A gurl haz gots to be picky about her first var.” He glanced back at the other generals. “Remember de Lady Roxalana?”
To Boris’s astonishment, he saw the other two generals blushing. He opened his mouth to ask, then realized he really did not want to know9.