The tea was so sweet and light, Aletheon could almost be led to believe that it wasn't poisoned. But of course, he knew better than that. The man in front of him watched with bright eyes peering out from the folds of his face, his gray mustache twitching over his fat lips. He vaguely reminded Aletheon of an old, fat weasel.
"So," Aletheon set his cup down, then put his elbows on the table and rested his chin on his folded hands. His hypnotic blue eyes scanned the man's, his soft lips, a warm pink against his ivory skin, parted slightly as he chose his words. "What exactly was it that you put in my tea, Mr. Trysk?"
Needless to say, Mr. Trysk looked surprised. He puffed out his cheeks, his mustached quivering as if he were insulted, and he leaned back in his seat, his chubby fingers gripping the arms of the chair. "Sir, I would never-" "Don't lie to me," Aletheon was calm about the whole situation. He stood, his long, delicate fingers brushing the table cloth as his chair moved back. His eyes were calm, not betraying a single emotion. "I simply wish to know, so I may know how to combat it." He began to walk around the table towards the man, his shoes falling silently on the plush carpet. "Do you wish me dead?" He was halfway around the table now. "Do you wish me a prisoner?" His lips twitched into a slight smirk which made Trysk very uncomfortable in more ways that one.
"Or," he stood behind him, leaning down to whisper in his ear. "Do you have darker motives? Perhaps the substance in my tea won't harm me at all, no, but you will, wont you, Mr. Trysk?" He moved away, walking around to the other side of the chair, his pale fingers trailing over the high arch of the dark ebony carving. "Your wife is no longer good enough. She, like you, has grown old, tired, and weary. But you are not weary. You are a man."
The woman who was standing in the doorway got a furious look on her face. She was a kindly woman, Mrs. Trysk, but she knew her husband no longer loved her, now that she was useless in bed. She could say nothing, because in their society, women held their tongues in the presence of men. That didn't mean that she wouldn't berate her husband later. However, Aletheon wasn't paying much attention to her. He turned back to face Mr. Trysk, who was quite red in the face, but he didn't look ashamed at all. "Yes," the old weasel replied. "You are correct. She is far too old, and she has grown ugly in her old age." He leaned forward, his fat arms bulging in the white button up shirt that was too small for him.
"But you, my beautiful friend, you are a different creature entirely."
Aletheon let out a laugh. Unlike most main characters, his laugh was not like bells. Yes, it was light and sweet and hypnotic, but not like bells. It was more like a bubbling babbling creek, quite pleasant to listen to, but ready to wipe out the forest in a flood of destruction without a moment's notice. "You're forgetting, Mr. Trysk," He turned around to face him, now halfway around the other side of the table. His royal blue tie matched his eyes wonderfully. "This is 1926. Homosexuality is illegal in Germany. You wouldn't want to go to camp, would you?"
Trysk's mustache twitched wildly, as if it were a squirming squirrel on his face. Aletheon turned away before he could speak. "Of course, if you did have your way with me, no one would believe me, because we're business rivals. No one would believe Mrs. Trysk, because she's just a woman, and no one would believe your butler because he has no tongue. You're a clever man, aren't you, Mr. Trysk?" He sat back down in his own seat and crossed one leg over the other. "You've used a quick-degrading drug that will be gone by the time you let me go, am I correct?"
Trysk nodded. Of course he couldn't deny it. Aletheon chuckled and spoke coyly, "so how long did you plan on extending my stay? What would it take to temporarily satisfy your..." He cleared his throat. "Craving?" Trysk had the look of a man who has won a battle before it's begun. "A week." "A week? How would you explain my absence to my dear father?"
Trysk stroked his mustache. "He doesn't know you're here." Aletheon nodded, "that is true, but he will come looking. After all, his beautiful son is very valuable to him." Trysk scoffed, "there is no way in hell that you are the son of that wretched bastard. He's far too ugly, even the prettiest woman on Earth could not create you with him," he spat with disgust. "What does he do to you, boy? Even he cannot resist your charm. It's intoxicating."
Aletheon chuckled, "if I didn't know any better, Mr. Trysk, I would call that a flirtatious comment. My father is far too old and focused to participate in such activities, and he is a very busy man." Trysk looked triumphant, "but you don't deny that he is not your father." Aletheon shrugged, "I wouldn't know. He says he is, and I am inclined to believe him." Aletheon leaned his head back in apparent boredom. "I hate to inform you, Mr. Trysk, but your drugs will not work on me."
"Nonsense, boy, how old are you? Twenty? Old enough to have some sense." Trysk scoffed again. "That's the strongest elixir on the market, and you drank a whole cup." Aletheon smiled knowingly, "I am only a month into nineteen, Mr. Trysk. Besides, even if your drugs did take effect, you would not be around to use them." He snapped his fingers, his smile turning to a triumphant grin.
Two German soldiers entered, Mrs. Trysk stepped out of the doorway to let them pass. They wore red armbands with the swaztica on their military uniforms. Another man in a black SS uniform with the same armband entered, his face one of stern disgust. "What is the meaning of this?!" Trysk tried to get his fat self out of his chair in a rush, and was huffing and puffing by the time he managed.
"Mr. Thaddeus Trysk, you are under arrest for illegal trading, use of illegal drugs, rape, attempted rape, assault, and homosexuality." There was no argument. The two soldiers in green grabbed either of Trysk's arms, and he was dragged away, cursing and shouting and carrying on. He even had the audacity to swear revenge.
The SS soldier nodded his head to Aletheon, "thank you for your help. We've been trying to prove this for two years now." Aletheon waved his hand dismissively, "it was no trouble, sir. Heil Hitler," he saluted, the soldier returned the salute and left. Aletheon approached Mrs. Trysk, who looked like a huge weight had been taken off her shoulders. "Thank you for your cooperation, Mrs. Trysk. You've brought a subhuman to justice and have relieved me of a rival." She smiled sorrowfully, "oh, sweet boy. The weight of the world is on you." She patted his head like a child and gave him a cookie. Aletheon ate it happily; chocolate meringues were his favourite cookie.
Ludwig took a long drag of his cigarette and exhaled, watching the cloud of smoke fade away into the evening sky. All was quiet in the garden he waited in, though he could hear the wagon truck running in the driveway. The stone steps beneath his feet were marble, and were just a prelude to the grandeur of the house. Ludwig briefly wondered who would own it next.
His peace was interrupted by loud cursing and the grunts of two soldiers dragging a fat man out of his home and towards the truck that would take him to his new residence, likely a concentration camp. Ludwig watched with mild curiosity as he was dragged by, and hoisted into the truck with a great amount of effort. After being cuffed and secured, the soldiers jumped inside the truck and drove off.
The other member of the SS, Anaheim, walked out of the house, watching the truck disappear out of the main gates and down to the road that would take Trysk to his doom. "Beilschmidt, the task is done." Ludwig nodded, "good, and the young Vulkan?" Anaheim shrugged and lit his own cigarette. "He's fine. It seems he really was immune to the drug. The Vulkans are a good ally to have in these troubled times. The boy seems to have more sense than his stubborn father." Ludwig took a short drag, blowing out the smoke through his nose. It burned, but for some reason Ludwig still liked to do it. "The old man will die soon," Anaheim mused, breathing in through the cigarette. "When Aletheon takes over his father's connections, we will know everything about everyone who is important in the modern world."
"You put a lot of faith in me," The two turned their heads at a new voice behind them. Ludwig watched Aletheon approach with a cookie in his hand. Anaheim nodded, "yes, your support is important to the Nazi party. The intelligence you give us has already led to the defeat of several nations and the possibility of an invasion in France. Without it, it would be another year before such things were possible." Ludwig elbowed him, "close your big mouth, Anaheim." Anaheim laughed, "lighten up, Ludwig, young Mr. Vulkan is no one to fear."
"On the contrary, sir," Aletheon had mischief in his eyes. "You should fear everyone, or at least be wary. I have no intention of betraying you, but there are others that might. Times are not easy, and trust must be earned, not inherited." Anaheim cleared his throat, "I'm aware." He offered Aletheon a cigarette, but the boy refused. "I don't smoke, thank you."
They stood in silence for a moment, until Ludwig spoke again. "Anaheim, we should report back. The scum has been revealed. We have no further business here." Anaheim nodded. "Vulkan, would you like a ride? It's a long way to the nearest station." Aletheon nodded, "thank you, sir." He followed Anaheim to the sleek black car waiting just down the drive. Ludwig took a final breath of his cigarette and dropped it onto the marble. He left it there to burn.