This is the story of how Phillip, Oggie's great-great-grandson came to be.
(Inspired by and containing characters from Girl Genius, property of Studio Foglio LLC and/or Airship Entertainment, . This story is not approved or affiliated with Studio Foglio LLC or Airship Entertainment.)
Mechanicsburg, two years after the attack on Castle Heterodyne
"There's two more at the main square," Philip announced.
Gisela sighed and watched her great-great-grandson's quickly retreating back. Despite everything, she still had a job to do and she didn't move as fast as she once had. Philip was already on his way to school, no doubt to daydream through math and science and only wake up for history and literature, but Gisela was going to be late unless she hurried as fast as seventy-six years would allow.
She reached the great square off the causeway to the Castle with little difficulty. These days no one but Jägers paused at the causeway, but not that long ago the entire square had been virtually impassable. As the sole entrance to Castle Heterodyne, the square had been permanently crowded with impromptu meetings, hastily assembled shops, food carts, drink vendors, servants coming and going from the Castle, visitors loading and unloading luggage, delivery men, soldiers and Jägers.
Now the humans passed through the square as quickly as they could, never even slowing down or glancing at the ruin of the Castle. Today, they passed by two Jägers, one standing, one kneeling, inches from the causeway, one step from the long ascent to the Castle. No Jägers ever attempted the climb, not now, but the Castle, empty of hope and life as it was, drew them. They would not get any closer to their shame than the bottom of the causeway, but neither could they stay away. By twos and threes and fours, never alone, but never in numbers, Jägers came to the square.
Outsiders hated and feared the Jägers, but to Mechanicsburg the Jägers were the core of the army that had destroyed every would-be invader and conquerer of the city, keeping generation after generation of Mechanicsburghers safe and secure. Jägers had become the unofficial mascots of the Heterodynes, as recognizably Heterodyne as the trilobite. Once the Heterodyne Boys became Europa's favorite heroes, stories of Heterodynes no longer included the constructs of their evil forbears, but Mechanicsburg didn't forget.
Gisela stopped at the boarded up door to an abandoned building- most of the buildings facing the square were abandoned now- to rest and watch the Jägers, hopefully unnoticed. An old woman in need of rest shouldn't capture anyone's attention.
Through the rapidly shifting crowds, Gisela saw the standing Jäger, a lavender cavalry officer, apparently standing at his ease, long purple hair and crimson cape fluttering in the breeze. Despite his deliberately casual posture, so typical of the cavalry when off their horses, his clawed hands clenched and unclenched ceaselessly. His face was impassive under his purple slouch hat, save for the tears that streamed down his cheeks.
It took Gisela a moment to come up with name, not a sign of age, but the fact that she only spoken to him once. Maxim. She only remembered that because the sole purple Jäger stood out in one's mind.
He noticed her gaze and touched his hat brim, the highest gesture of respect from a Jäger. The kneeling Jäger noticed the movement and turned to peer through the shifting crowd, barely controlling his sobbing.
Shaggy blond hair, human colored skin, a single ram's horn where his left ear should have been, leaning on the only triple-poleaxe she had ever seen. Oggie. Of course.
Gisela squared her shoulders and stepped forward. She would be late for work.
Momma Gkika's, 58 years before the attack on Castle Heterodyne
Gisela squared her shoulders and stepped through the doors into Momma Gkika's. She was hit by a wall of heat and noise. A week til the summer solstice and it was still cool in Mechanicsburg, but Jägers run hotter than humans and a bar full of them was a stiflingly hot place. Idly, she noticed that Jägers didn't seem to sweat. Their faces were dry while Gisela's brow was already wet.
The noise was disorienting, dozens and dozens of Jägers talking excitedly, distinctive tortured voices raised to talk over one another, their thick accents rendering it all incomprehensible. That's what froze Gisela at the door. She was newly sixteen, and while none of the Jägers looked much older, in reality they were all centuries old. What had they seen in all that time, what had they done? Living that long must change what a person finds important, would they even see a need to help her? Her parents certainly did not.
"What are you doing here, girl?"
Amongst all the colorful Jägers in their fancy uniforms, Gisela hadn't noticed the human men. Riding with Jägers was popular in certain circles and this man had the look, tough and unafraid, determined to outjäger the Jägers. He moved closer to Gisela, exposing his bare right arm with its Jäger sigil tattoo. For whatever reason men who ran with the Jägers were allowed the tattoo but forbidden the pins, buttons, clasps and buckles that liberally adorned every article of clothing the Jägers wore. There were half a dozen jewelry makers in Mechanicsburg that did nothing but provide such things to the Jägers. Gisela knew, her father was one of them. There were three times that number tailors providing uniforms to Jägers. They were far more fastidious about their appearance than any human man Gisela had ever seen, including the one standing before her. No Jäger would ever appear in public with a loose button let alone a shirt missing a sleeve.
"You do know where you are, don't you?" He looked her up and down in a way that made Gisela feel naked and the new bodice on her dress didn't help. She resisted the urge to tug it up or run out of the bar.
"I need help." He continued to look at her until her hand crept over her exposed cleavage all on its own. "From the Jägers."
The man started to laugh and Gisela could feel tears pooling against her lower lids. If there was no help here, there was no help anywhere.
"Ve got dis. Go haff anodder drink." A clawed hand in a pretty shade of lavender spun the man around and shoved him towards the bar so hard he crashed into another Jäger and bounced off. The other Jäger laughed and helped him up.
The same hand, Gisela was too overwhelmed to look at more than his hand, gently took hers and led her deeper into the bar, towards the booths in the back. Gisela wondered how long it took Jägers to adjust to their famed strength. The Jäger's hand was feverishly hot and his grasp was firm but nowhere near to hurting. Gisela had once, as a child, seen ten men struggle to lift a broken clank onto a cart. A single Jäger had hoisted it up with no apparent difficulty- after watching and laughing for five minutes.
"Sit."
Gisela found herself sitting at a booth and forced herself to look up. The lavender Jäger was obviously a cavalry officer, resplendent in purple and crimson and gold, his matching hat set jauntily over long purple hair, shading purple eyes. He was quite handsome, his angular features highlighted by elegantly pointed ears.
He was sitting next to a human-colored Jäger with shaggy blond hair and big hazel eyes. His uniform was in a style Gisela wasn't familiar with, a tan vest over a white shirt topped by a tan coat. The style could have been centuries old. Jägers usually just had the same uniform remade again and again. Gisela liked the coat with its big embroidered cuffs and huge sherling collar. She wondered how he kept the matching fez on his head when he fought. A curled ram's horn protruded from where his left ear should have been, rendered oddly appealing by his eager smile.
Sitting next to Gisela was one of Venthraxus Heterodyne's fifty black-on-green Jägers, originally a separate honor guard for Venthraxus. Successive generations of Heterodynes hadn't found it so pleasing to be followed at all times by fifty matching Jägers, and they were eventually absorbed into the general population.
"Maxim, Ognian und Minsk. Vat do hyu need help mit?" asked Maxim.
Gisela let go of a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. Jägers were rumored to be the court of last resort for the women of Mechanicsburg, but she had hardly dared trust the vague rumors and half whispered stories cut short the instant a maiden such as herself entered the room.
"You know what's happening at the Cathedral one week from today, right?"
Maxim looked confused, Ognian tapped one clawed finger against pursed lips and Minsk's brows drew down in thought. Oh, god, am I going to have to say this outright? Just say it?
Eventually, Ognian exclaimed, "Ho yaz! Dose krezy sekrificez!"
"Yaz, er, yes, the sacrifices! This time of year it's the Sacrifice of Fire." All three Jägers stared at her blankly. Gisela held up a lock of her own red hair. "I'm going to be sacrificed next week!"
"How hyu know dat? Could be enny redhead." Ognian paused. "Not dat hyu zee too menny redheads in Mechanicsburg."
Gisela shook her head. She knew the Church refused Jägers and all other constructs, but she really had hoped she wouldn't have to explain this to them. "Not just any redhead will do. The sacrifice has to be a girl, sixteen years old and, um," she resumed staring at clawed hands, "not experienced with a man."
"Kent be too menny of dose," observed Minsk.
"Three! There are three! I am one of them!"
A lavender hand gestured and Gisela looked up to see a human barmaid approaching with a tray of drinks. Gisela started to panic. The woman was human, she must know why a redheaded girl would be in Momma Gkika's one week before the High Holy Day.
The barmaid didn't seem to notice Gisela at all, an impossibility unless she was trying. Gisela wondered exactly how many of the rumors about Momma Gkika's were true. The barmaid put down four tankards and left with a wink and a smile for Maxim, who lightly swatted her rear in response. The barmaid paused and whispered something to Maxim which made him grin from ear to ear. Gisela looked away, cheeks burning, to find Ognian downing her drink.
"Hey! That's mine, Ognian, you've got your own!" Giseal hadn't really thought about exactly what becoming "experienced" might involve. It had been hard enough to find the courage to alter her dress until half her bosom was exposed (according to the servants' chatter, that was the way to get a man to do anything you wanted), put it on and sneak out of her house in the middle of the night. Now that she'd witnessed Maxim and the barmaid- flirting?- Gisela realized she'd need that drink and more besides. Much, much more.
"Oggie", he replied, putting the tankard down in front of her. About one quarter of the drink remained. "Dot brendy is brewed for Jägers. Hyu drink a full tankard and de only ting hyu gun gets experience at iz sleepink on de floor."
"Oh. Thanks." He smiled again. It should have been frightening with all those fangs, but his smile communicated nothing but sheer joy. Gisela couldn't help smiling back.
She took a sip of brandy. "Gah!" Minsk lightly patted her on the back. It tasted like paint thinner smelled and burned like molten metal, but Gisela already felt a little calmer, a little less embarrassed by it all. She took another sip and smiled at Minsk to show she was all right.
"Goot gorl! Dey," he marked out several human men in the crowd, all with bare right arms, "chust drink de beer. Ken't take de brendy."
"Zo," said Maxim after gulping down half his brandy at once. "Ve kent makes hyu not red haired und ve kent makes hyu not sixteen, zo dat leaves . . . sneakink hyu out ov Mechanicsburg?"
Gisela couldn't tell if he was serious or not. "And go where? I've never been out of Mechanicsburg before." She gulped more brandy and decided that she really like the stuff. And the Jägers. Especially Oggie. That horn was adorable, really.
"Und vat's hyu poppa gun do ven he finds out hyu . . . found a leedle experience vit de Jägers? He might be heppy to tek our money for his baublez, but his daughter, he might feel a leedle different about," said Minsk, motioning for another drink.
Gisela's jaw dropped. "Hyu, er, you know who my father is? You know who I am?" She didn't think the Jägers paid that much attention to humans. Jägers were a common sight in Mechanicsburg- always in the company of other Jägers. Even the humans that ran with the Jägers were on the outside looking in, jealous of the camaraderie and open affection the Jägers have for one another and not for anyone else.
"Ho yaz," replied Maxim, tapping the clasp of his cape. "He do goot vork." Gisela recognized the clasp. Her father had labored over just the design for over a week. It had been a reward for the Jägercaptain of the Cavalry from the Heterodyne for something, she hadn't caught what. The end product was a thing of beauty, an elaborate joining of the Jäger sigil and Heterodyne trilobite, done in gold and platinum. Seeing it on Maxim's throat, Gisela realized that her father had managed to put something of Maxim's features in the Jäger sigil, despite the fact that Maxim did not have the horns or tusks of the sigil.
"He wouldn't know. They, the Church, don't say why girls are rejected." Gisela didn't think so anyway. She wouldn't have found out about the virginity requirement if she hadn't been eavesdropping outside the Bishop's office door. They probably kept that a secret so that every redheaded girl didn't do what she herself was doing at the moment. Or trying to do, anyway.
"Vy not esk a hooman? Hyu is a beautiful gorl. Hoomans ain't changed dat much since Hy vas vun," Oggie said.
Gisela took another sip of brandy to hide her blushes at Oggie's matter of fact declaration of her beauty. "No human would, um, they just wouldn't. Not a week before the sacrifice." No need to mention that it had taken her months to work up the courage to come here. "You don't want to be on the Bishop's bad side. If I say I got . . . carried away . . . and didn't want to tell my parents . . . Anyway, you're Jägers. You don't have to worry about the Bishop."
She wondered if someone could die of embarrassment, and if the Jägers could tell if she was lying. She didn't know any human men to ask, her parents never left her alone with any. Besides, according to a very improper conversation between the head cook and the scullery maids, every woman should have at least one Jäger in her past. If only she'd had the courage to ask them why.
The Jägers laughed. "De Bishop, he hez to vorry about our bad sidez, yez?" said Maxim. "He should remember-"
Maxim was interrupted by the barmaid, back with more tankards and another wink for Maxim, followed by a suggestion Gisela couldn't make heads nor tails of, but made Oggie choke on his brandy and Minsk whistle appreciatively. Or try to. A mouth full of fangs doesn't lend itself to whistling.
"Zo, hyu gots dis, Oggie?" asked Maxim. He stood up without waiting for an answer, emptied another tankard and led the barmaid off into the shadows past the booths.
"Vy not me?" asked Minsk, pouting.
"Hy'm cuter," answered Oggie with a grin.
"You are cuter!" blurted Gisela. He was.
"Hokay, no more brendy for hyu," said Oggie. Gisela looked into her tankard. It was empty, which was odd, because she hadn't had more than four sips. Maybe five. Certainly no more than six. Oggie took her second tankard and gulped it all down at once. How much alcohol did it take to get a Jäger drunk? They were drinking the stuff like water and showing no signs of even being tipsy.
"Dun vorry, brodder. Hyu ken haff de next sekrifice," Oggie promised.
"Fine, fine." Minsk grabbed his brandy and headed for the bar. His pout lasted until he reached another Jäger, then he was back to talking excitedly.
Oggie held out his hands to Gisela. "Come vit me, my beautiful gorl. Hy show hyu zometing new."
Mechanicsburg, two years after the attack on Castle Heterodyne
Maxim walked off towards the other side of the square. Even after several years, the people of Mechanicsburg bubbled out around him so that he walked in a small pocket of space. Outsiders took it for fear, but it was respect, making sure the Jägers didn't have to be careful of crowds of easily injured humans.
"My beautiful gorl," whispered Oggie.
Gisela rushed to him, embraced him. "I'm not beautiful anymore and I'm certainly not a girl."
"Hyu eez to me," he murmured in her ear in that cracked, scratchy whisper she still heard in her dreams.
Gisela stepped back, taking him in. Oggie's hair was lank now, his white shirt was stained and torn and while his face remained as round and smooth as it had been fifty-eight years ago, there was the implication of years beyond imagining in the set of his jaw and the heaviness of his eyes. Oggie liked to talk, after, and in those three months a lifetime ago, he had revealed almost 500 years of memories. For the first time, he seemed to be feeling every one of them.
"I'm so sorry, Oggie. What I said, the last time, the day after the- you didn't deserve it and I-"
He placed one finger on her lips with the same gentle deliberation that Gisela remembered from the first time. And every other time, too.