Wildcount Ernst Volger sat in a plush leather chair in his office, his body still and comfortable, but his mind raced. He stared at the scribbled note in his hand without really seeing it, already knowing the words by heart.
V.
Archduke and Princess are dead. Drinks poisoned.
J.
He looked up and let his eyes drift, taking in the familiar surroundings.
The window on the far wall allowed the last golden rays of twilight to filter through. An ornately-carved wooden desk—a family heirloom—holding important documents and correspondence, sat beneath the window. The blazing fireplace to his right chased away the chill of the advancing night and made shadows dance across the room.
It was very unlikely that he would ever sit in the comfort of this room, or see his ancestral home, again. After tonight's events, he would be considered a traitor in the eyes of his country and his people.
Volger had spent the past ten years planning carefully for this day. Yet, planning for something and it actually coming to pass were two drastically different things.
With a deep sigh, he stood and moved to finish his preparations, having full knowledge that his most difficult task was yet to come.
Count Volger entered the sleeping castle through the banquet kitchen door and paused to listen. Darkness and silence greeted his senses.
He moved through the hallways with silent, gliding footsteps, thanks to his many years of studying and teaching fencing. The Archduke's Master of Mechaniks, Otto Klopp, walked behind him, though his heavyset stature made his footsteps annoyingly loud on the marble floors.
Once they had reached their destination, a set of French double-doors in the Trophy Hall, Volger gestured for the older man to check the sentry's room down the hall. As he walked off, a ring of keys jingled on Klopp's belt loop and the Count rolled his eyes at the man's lack of stealth.
"Silence your keys!" Volger hissed in a whisper. Klopp stopped mid-stride and hurriedly put the ring of keys in his pocket, glancing back sheepishly.
Count Volger waited a moment before putting his ear to the door, listening hard. He thought he could hear the faint rustle of bedsheets.
He grasped the decorative handle and slowly opened the door to peer inside. The moon's soft glow shone through two large windows, providing just enough light for him to see as he walked into the large bedchamber.
Prince Aleksandar of Hohenburg was lying in a lavish four-poster bed, his fifteen year old chest moving quickly. Too quickly, for someone who was supposed to be asleep.
Volger quietly moved to the Prince's dresser and opened the top drawer.
Seconds later, he heard Klopp's aggravatingly loud steps as he walked boldly up to the bed.
"Young Master! Wake up!" Otto said in a loud whisper.
Prince Aleksandar quickly let out the breath he had been holding, obviously relieved when he heard Klopp's familiar voice. After all, how could the boy not trust his mentor, old Otto Klopp?
Volger continued to rummage through the chest of drawers as he spoke. "The young prince has been awake all along. A bit of advice, Your Highness? When pretending to be asleep, it is advisable not to hold one's breath."
Aleksandar sat up in bed and Volger could almost feel the boy's glare on his back. The Prince had gumption, that was for sure.
"What's the meaning of this?" He demanded.
"You're to come with us, young master. The Archduke's orders." Otto whispered, hesitantly.
"My father? He's back already?" Aleksandar asked, sounding surprised by this news.
"He left instructions," Count Volger replied, tossing the boy's piloting jacket and trousers onto the bed.
Prince Alek looked at the clothes, his face displaying his irritation at being caught awake and bewilderment at the men's words.
"Like young Mozart," Otto said softly. "In the Archduke's stories."
The Archduke would frequently regale the young man with stories of how Mozart's tutors would wake him and force him to study music in the middle of the night.
As Aleksandar gathered the clothes, he asked with mild sarcasm, "You're going to make me compose a fugue?"
"An amusing thought," Count Volger said. "But please, make haste."
"We have a walker waiting behind the stables, young master." Klopp said, sounding slightly worried, but trying to hide it behind his smile. "You are to take the helm."
"A walker?" Alek asked, sounding pleasantly surprised. He began to dress with an air of excitement.
That was one reason they had chosen to take a walker—rather than Volger's preferred method of horseback—because Aleksandar would follow them without hesitation. There was little else the young man enjoyed more than piloting a walker.
"Yes, your first night lesson!" Otto said, sounding proud of his young pupil as he passed the boy his boots.
Finally dressed, the young Prince eagerly got out of bed to fetch his piloting gloves. In his hurry, Aleksandar's footsteps echoed through the room.
"Quietly now." Volger admonished as he moved to the double doors, checking that the hallway was clear.
"We're to sneak out, Your Highness!" Otto whispered to the boy.
"Good fun, this lesson! Just like young Mozart!" Alek muttered with an amused grin.
Volger was on high alert, his eyes and ears searching for any hints of movement or noise as the three of them moved through the dark and empty halls of the castle.
"Volger …," Aleksandar began.
"Quiet, boy!" Volger whispered harshly. The Count rarely missed an opportunity to remind him that, though Aleksandar was a prince, his mother's common blood technically made him of a lower station. Glancing back, he could see the Prince's fury at his rudeness, though the boy held his tongue.
A few minutes later they were once again passing through the banquet kitchens. As Volger opened the door to the outside world, they were greeted with the chill of the night air and the moon's soft light.
He led the way along the forested path toward their destination. Overhanging branches, which shielded the moon's dull light, combined with exposed tree roots and uneven ground made their trek difficult and slow.
After cresting a small hill, their mode of transportation finally came into view, a massive Cyklop Stormwalker. He heard a surprised sound from the young Prince and turned to find him staring, mouth agape, at the war-machine.
To Volger it looked like an ugly hunk of metal, but he could imagine that the boy saw it as a gigantic monster. According to Master Klopp, the young man had not piloted anything even close to this size yet—and certainly nothing that was armed with weapons of war.
"I'm supposed to pilot that?!" Alek exclaimed, his voice betraying his uncertainty. "My old runabout wouldn't come up to its knee!"
Klopp reassured the boy, patting his shoulder. "Don't worry, young Mozart. I'll be at your side."
Volger walked beneath the machine and ordered the two men waiting inside to start the engines. Suddenly the ground shook with their power. A chain ladder unfurled and he stopped its wild movement with his boot, stepping on the bottom rung.
"Young master, if you please." Volger said, gesturing to the ladder leading into the massive machine.
The boy just stared, seemingly dumbfounded by what they were asking of him.
Seeing Aleksandar's hesitancy, Klopp spoke up. "Your father, the Archduke, has thrown us a challenge—me and you. He wants you ready to pilot any machine in the House Guard, even in the middle of the night."
The young man continued to stand there thinking this over, but Volger knew they didn't have the time to waste, nor did he have the patience to do so.
"Of course we cannot force you, Your Serene Highness. We can always explain to your father that you were too scared." He said with a mocking smile, knowing what the boy's reaction would be.
"I'm not scared!" Alek declared and moved toward the machine, his hesitation vanishing. Alek climbed the ladder quickly, swaying high above the ground by the time he reached the hatch.
The two men within saluted Prince Aleksandar from their designated places inside the gunners' station and one of them gave a polite "Welcome aboard, Your Highness." He hesitantly returned their salutes before moving into the pilot's cabin.
Once there he took the pilot's seat and fastened its straps. He grasped the saunters in both hands looking slightly overwhelmed by the numerous knobs, levers and dials decorating the control panel.
"Vision at full," Klopp said as he turned a crank that opened the viewport in front of Alek, letting in just enough light to see by.
Aleksandar stared out the viewport for a long moment and Volger felt impatience rise in him again.
"At your pleasure, young master." He said with a sneer.
The boy's back stiffened with indignation and finally shifted the saunters forward. The huge machine obeyed, quickly rising from the ground and making Volger momentarily dizzy.
Soon the walker's gait took up a steady swaying motion and Volger stood with a wide stance, like a sailor keeping his balance.
"Good … excellent," Otto encouraged the boy, sitting beside him in the commander's seat.
"Watch your knee pressure, though." He warned. Aleksandar quickly glanced down at the panel, then back up at the viewport.
"Better," the man murmured a moment later and the Prince gave a cautious nod.
The cacophony of sounds coming from the walker was overwhelming—the dull thud of metal feet stomping into the earth, the slight whistle of hissing steam, the near-constant grinding of metal and the loud hum of whirring gears.
Altogether, it was enough to drive the Count mad!
The giant steps the machine took covered a lot of ground in little time. Before long they were well away from the castle and deep into the forest, the viewport constantly being smacked by branches and sending drops of water flying into the cabin.
"Shouldn't we spark up the running lights?" Aleksandar asked, his eyes still focused on maneuvering the machine.
"Remember, young master? We're pretending we don't want to be spotted." Klopp told the young man.
"Revolting way to travel," Count Volger couldn't help but mutter, thinking that horseback would have been twice as fast and half as conspicuous.
Without warning, a shrill and deafening noise—the nerve-rattling sound of gears grinding against each other—echoed through the cabin. The walker suddenly leaned forward, as though it would fall face-first into the dirt below.
Volger was taken by surprise at the abrupt halt and quickly grasped the hand straps on the ceiling, preventing himself from tumbling forward into Aleksandar.
"You're caught, young master!" Klopp exclaimed as he leaned forward in his chair, ready to take over if necessary.
"I know!" Alek declared, repositioning the saunters. A loud hiss of air, like that of a train's piercing whistle, rose from the joints of the machine. The walker stood unsteadily for another moment.
Volger looked around him, trying to make sure the cabin wasn't being compromised as strange sounds reached his ears. The Daimler engines let out a low, ominous moan as metal joints whined loudly.
However, a few moments later the crackling sound of roots being ripped from the ground could be heard.
The Stormwalker rose high in the air for a moment, soon returning to the predictable sway from a few minutes before.
"Well done, young master!" Master Klopp congratulated him with a single clap of his hands.
"Thank you, Klopp," Aleksandar replied in a shaky voice, continuing to guide the machine forward.
Few words were said after that incident and time dragged on as Prince Aleksandar moved the Stormwalker through the forest. Soon a clearing in the trees appeared.
"Turn here and we'll have better footing, young master." Klopp stated.
"Isn't this one of Mother's riding paths? She'll have my hide if we track it up!" He declared. However, the boy slowly brought the walker to a stop on the indicated path and moved his hands away from the saunters, looking exhausted.
"Disagreeable in every way, Your Highness, but necessary if we're to make good time tonight." Volger said, purposefully being ambiguous in his explanation.
The boy looked at Klopp, a puzzled expression on his face. "Make good time? But this is just practice. We're not going anywhere, are we?"
Master Klopp looked up at Volger, not sure how to answer his question. The boy—still strapped into the pilot's seat—swiveled his chair around to face the Count.
"Volger, what's going on?" He demanded.
Count Volger said nothing, his gaze lingering on the boy. He saw the Prince's commanding expression slide into one of uncertainty.
The young man swiveled the pilot's chair once more, turning to Klopp for answers.
"Where are we going, Otto? Explain this at once!" Aleksandar ordered, sounding like a General issuing a command.
"You're to come with us, Your Highness," Otto Klopp said quietly, his face showing his unease.
Volger stepped forward, speaking firmly, "We have to get as far away from Prague as possible, your father's orders."
"But my father isn't even …" Alek began, but his words died abruptly. He swore through clenched teeth, evidently seeing the truth—his father was away in Sarajevo, so how could he have possibly given an order to these men?
The boy's eyes slid closed as a distressed look crossed his face.
"The archduke left instructions," Count Volger stated, looking down on the boy.
"You're lying!" Alek cried, his eyes flying open, his chest heaving as he grew more alarmed.
The Count knew that the next few moments would be unpleasant, but they were necessary—they couldn't change the plan, not with the boy growing suspicious.
"I wish we were, young master." Volger said as he stuck his hand into his jacket.
Seeing the threatening movement, the boy panicked and began frantically searching the control panel. His hands fluttered over the dials and leavers, looking for something that could help him against the larger men.
Klopp grabbed Alek's arms as Volger shoved the open tip of a flask under his nose!
Aleksandar, still struggling to free himself, was smart and held his breath. However, the Count continued to hold the vial under his nose knowing there was only so long the young man would be able to hold his breath.
Prince Aleks' hand finally grasped what he had been searching for and pulled a cord that set off the distress whistle. Klopp's hand shot out and emptied the pneumatic pressure from the machine, resulting in a soft wail that faded into nothing.
Aleksandar continued to hold his breath as he struggled to free himself from Klopp's grasp; but still buckled into the pilot's seat, there was little he could do.
Finally Aleksandar gasped for breath, inhaling the chemicals wafting from the tube. The prince swayed in his seat and Master Klopp reached out to steady him, unbuckling the straps and lifting him into his arms.
"My father...will have your heads." Alek murmured slowly, drowsily.
"Alas not, Your Highness. Your parents are both dead, murdered this night in Sarajevo." Volger said, putting the vial back into his jacket.
The boy made an amused grunt, likely assuming that this was a lie. Seconds later he went limp in Klopp's arms.
Otto stared at Prince Aleksandar's unconscious form for a long moment. He looked up, his face telling of his misery at what they had just done, and caught the Count's stern gaze.
"It couldn't be helped, Klopp. We couldn't have the boy trying to escape before we can get him to safety." Volger stated matter-of-factly.
"I know, Volger! But...but now he thinks we are traitors!" Klopp said desperately, his voice sorrowful and his face worried. "He will never believe that we have his best interest in mind! Not after tonight!"
"Soon enough he will understand the truth for himself, who his real enemies are." Volger replied with certainty.
"I'll take him below. You get this machine moving."
Klopp carefully transferred the young Prince to the Count's waiting arms.
Volger knew the further from Austria they were, the safer Prince Aleksandar would be.
Notes: This is the beginning of "Leviathan", but from Count Volger's perspective. He is my favorite character in the series and I've wanted to write something from his perspective for a while now. I hope it was enjoyable!
All credit goes to the amazing Scott Westerfeld!