Agatha H and the Voice of the Castle

Opposite the bar was a cabaret stage. Gaslamps hissed along the front, and it was hung with a thick red curtain emblazoned with the badge of the Jägerkin, a grinning demonic skull. At the moment, the three faux Jäger girls Gil had met earlier were strutting about onstage, doffing assorted items of clothing while melodically assuring the audience that come what may, they still had their hats.

The appreciative audience was composed entirely of Jägers—several hundred at least. Some were sitting at small private tables or in booths but most sat at the immensely long wooden tables that filled the center of the hall.

Almost every square centimeter of wall was covered by weapons, armor, and peculiar bits of madboy tech, some of it hundreds of years out of date. Gil realized that these were trophies: souvenirs of enemies that the Jägers had gone up against in the service of the Heterodynes—and later, of the Wulfenbachs. With a start, Gil recognized the vermilion uniforms of the Viscount Eisenstein’s Lobstermen.

“Mamma Gkika’s isn’t just a bar,” Zeetha said. “The Jägers won’t let anyone but a Heterodyne work on them—so when one gets too injured to fight, he comes here. Mamma patches them up as best she can. In the really bad cases—she keeps them comfortable while they wait for the family to come back. So they can get properly repaired, you know?”

Gil nodded slowly. “This answers many questions. I had been afraid that they killed their wounded rather than let us get our hands on them.” He saw a Jäger with no legs and one arm pour a tankard of ale into his mouth and then challenge another to an arm wrestling match. He turned back to Van and Krosp and smiled. “I’m glad that’s not the case.”

Zeetha nodded. “I can’t wait to see Agatha’s face when she finds out. She hates doing chores.”

Gil looked at her. “Then what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be with her?”

Zeetha shrugged and waved her hands at the ceiling. “The Heterodyne must enter the Castle alone,” she quoted in mock sepulchral tones.

Gil shot to his feet. “She’s already in the castle? That thing is a death trap! We have to go in and help her!”

“We really are going to be be-e-est friends,” she said as she locked an arm around his neck and dragged him back into his seat. “I approve of this plan and intend to help in any way possible.”

Gil paused, “You do?”

Zeetha nodded. “Absolutely. As far as I know, she just had to enter alone. Nothing says we can’t follow in after her.” She turned to Vanamonde. “Right?”

Van cleared his throat. “I don’t think it’s ever come up.”

Gil turned to him. “My father—”

Van interrupted, “Yes, your father. He’s been busy. I would like to know what he’s been doing.”

Gil sat back and gave Van a wan smile. “While I’m sure that at a cellular level my father has been quite active, he won’t be doing much of anything for a while.”

Krosp snorted. “Anyone else I’d call disingenuous, but from you I’ll accept stupid.”

Van looked annoyed. “Krosp, please…”

Krosp slammed a pawful of paper flimsies down onto the table. “For starters, he’s been giving a bunch of weird orders.”

Gil looked alarmed. He scooped them up and examined them. His alarm grew. “These are…How did you get these?”

Van waved a hand. “Please. People give orders, other people write them down, people carry them from place to place, others must execute them… But that is all unimportant. What is it exactly that he’s doing?”

Gil waved the papers. “He’s probably administering the Empire. I assume that most of these orders were sent out by Boris, under my father’s seal. He’s severely injured! Bedridden! In my medical opinion, he won’t be up for weeks.”

Krosp snorted again. Van ignored the cat and kept his eyes on Gil. “So. Even his son underestimates him.”

Gil looked alarmed. “What? What do you mean?”

Krosp smoothed his whiskers. “Oh, he’s up, all right.”

_______________

³³ A more exhaustive and entertaining relating of these events can be found in our first textbook; Agatha H. and the Airship City. Reading this is not mandatory, of course, unless you wish to pass our course.

³⁴Don’t Make Me Come Over There! Empire Publishing Office/Dusseldorf

³⁵ After the disastrous sacking of the Vatican by the Anabaptist Alchemical Army in 1566, the Papal Court was scattered. At the time of our story, after several centuries of internecine fighting and intrigue, there were seven recognized Popes; the Pope of Avignon, the Ottoman Pope, the Pope of the Tsars, the Pope of Belfast, the Gypsy Pope (who, confusingly, is not affiliated with the Romany), the Pope of the Mountains, and the mysterious Sicilian Papa de Tutti Papi.

³⁶ Like almost everything else, sex education in Mechanicsburg has its own…unique take. As a result, Mechanicsburg girls tend to be rather forward, know what they want, and have no qualms about asking for it, especially when they are wearing their weasel pajamas.