Chapter Two: Psychosis
"I think I'm gonna start my own religion
Seems to be the recipe for a new sensation
Think it's gonna make a trendy revolution
Quite the contribution to the unnatural selection…"
"My Lord?"
Count Waltz stirred from his musings to find that Legato hadn't taken the hint and made himself scarce; instead, his personal emissary and subordinate was still standing there patiently in the center of the audience hall, apparently awaiting an answer to some crisis that simply couldn't be ignored. Waltz rolled his eyes and sighed tragically – didn't these simple-minded fools have anything better to do than bother him with their petty, meaningless pursuits?
"What is it, Legato? Can you not see that I am preoccupied?"
Legato cleared his throat and did his best to regard the Count of Forte Castle with a mild, even expression – though inside he was more than a little frustrated with the monarch's negligence. He was careful to bow his head in obeisance before he voiced his inquiry for the third time since he had admitted himself. "My Lord, I merely sought your counsel in order to pen your response to Prince Crescendo's peace offering. After all, it would be most beneficial to both of our great nations if they were to unite under one rule."
"I don't need you to tell me what would be best for my kingdom, Legato," snapped Waltz, coming forward in his throne and scowling like a small child preparing to throw a tantrum. "I am quite capable of figuring that out for myself."
The count's emissary bowed his head, readjusting his spindly spectacles, and said nothing.
Count Waltz rose from his throne and strolled to the window, glancing out into the parlor where his next audience awaited him, and a wicked smile curled up his lips. Several of the assassins of Staccato were grouped in the parlor, and the meeting with them would surely prove to be much more amusing than this drab conversation with his always-stuffy councilor. Nevertheless, the proposition set forth by the high-and-mighty Prince Crescendo of Baroque was an intriguing one, and Waltz thought it best to heed Legato's wisdom and consider the matter carefully, just this once.
Prince Crescendo was the successor to the throne of Baroque Castle, as he was the only heir the previous monarch, King Maestoso, had left behind before passing away prematurely just one year ago. Of course, Count Waltz knew better than to simply state that King Maestoso had just "passed away", for that was not the case – it was much more accurate to say that he had been murdered, though the young Prince Crescendo had done a truly marvelous job of keeping that messy little detail from reaching public knowledge. No, Maestoso's death had not been the quiet and painless affair that Crescendo had made it out to be – in reality, Maestoso had suffered a great deal at the hands of Waltz's most loyal and ruthless assassin, a man by the name of Fugue. It was the last order that Waltz's dear uncle, King Affrettando, had issued before his own death just two days later.
And to think, Waltz had yet to uncover the identity of his uncle's killer!
At any rate, Prince Crescendo had proven to be both a noble and worthy adversary considering his tender age of twenty nine. In response to King Affrettando's senseless act of brutality, Crescendo had thrown all of his support behind the ever-frustrating rebellion called Andantino, and Waltz assumed that one of those vermin was responsible for murdering his beloved uncle. Upon taking up his uncle's mantle, Waltz had made only one goal known to all of his subjects – to ensure that Forte City reigned supreme over all nations, Baroque City included. Though a formal declaration of war between the two great nations had never been instated, Crescendo and Waltz had been opposing one another at every turn ever since being appointed to their respective positions of power.
And now, Crescendo had thrown yet another wrench into Waltz's plans.
Waltz extracted the official-looking roll of parchment from his back pocket and perused it once again, frowning at the words contained therein. In a surprise move that even Waltz couldn't have foreseen, Crescendo had written a letter of intent to marry Serenade, the First Princess of Forte Castle, King Affrettando's eldest daughter, and Waltz's cousin. The letter went on to lament the aggressive relationship between the two nations, and ended with Crescendo's promise that, in the event Waltz agreed to the union, he, Crescendo, would work ceaselessly in order to attain a true and everlasting peace between Forte and Baroque.
Count Waltz wanted nothing more than to laugh at Crescendo's ridiculous proposal – yet he had to admit, the alliance would come with undeniable benefits. For one thing, his cousin Serenade was young and undeniably beautiful; she would have little difficulty ensnaring Crescendo with her obvious charms. But more importantly, Serenade's loyalty lay unwaveringly with her home country – even if she were to relocate to Baroque Castle and rise to the position of Queen, she would always be a Princess of Forte. She would remain loyal to her people no matter the cost.
Even if that cost was losing the trust and respect of every citizen in Baroque in order to keep the Count of Forte Castle well informed. On the other hand… if Serenade were ever to become too enamored with her overly sophisticated, all-too-handsome husband…
Waltz shook his head in an effort to cleanse the poisonous thought from his mind, then turned back to face Legato. His servant appeared not to have moved a single muscle in all the time Waltz had been brooding; pleased by Legato's dedication Count Waltz delivered Crescendo's decree into his servant's hands, and seeing that Waltz was about to voice his reply, Legato hastened to locate a quill.
"Here, now, is my word – the only word I will condescend to give to this so-called Prince," sneered Count Waltz, and he threw himself dramatically back down upon his throne. "Tell him that I will speak with my dearest cousin on this great matter, and while I agree with his efforts to deliver peace back into our countries I will not sacrifice my cousin's honor, or her unhappiness. The choice rests with Serenade, and with her alone. If she desires to pledge her heart to Baroque's monarch, then it will be so."
Seeing that there would be no other response forthcoming Legato penned Count Waltz's decree in his own flowing manuscript, and when the deed was done he retreated to the open window where Waltz's letter bird waited to bear the message on its way. He fastened the small slip of rolled parchment to the bird's leg with a length of twine, and then released the bird into the morning sky; they watched it soar away into the east until it was lost in the rising sun, and then Legato turned back to face his monarch. Count Waltz waved his hand lazily in dismissal, and Legato exited without another word.
"Enter," called Waltz, balancing his chin on his hand and tilting his head to one side as though bored, and the double doors to the Count's audience hall swung open to admit the assassins of Staccato.
The assassins of Staccato had been appointed by the late King Affrettando as a means of accomplishing the tasks that the King would do well not to be seen participating in himself. These duties included personally dispatching enemies of Forte Castle Court or, in the event that their targets were far too valuable to be killed on sight, interrogating the enemies of Forte City for any important information they were believed to be possessing. More than one member of the secret assassin's organization was a highly skilled interrogator; some were diplomats, others were spies, but they were all the most ruthless and talented killers in all the world. Count Waltz's right hand man, an assassin by the name of Fugue, led the entourage into the audience hall; he was slim and straight with lithely muscled arms, a cruel smile and a mop of silvery hair that made him easily distinguishable in a crowd. Next to him was Count Waltz's left hand, the lady Rondo; the greatest weapon at her disposal was inarguably her phenomenal beauty, which was often whispered about in Forte Castle Court. She appeared to be quite soft and dainty, but those who judged her simply based on her appearance found out quickly that this was a grave mistake. She was rarely seen wearing anything but her custom made black glass armor, framed by a shimmery sheet of mauve locks and sultry amethyst eyes. Following closely beside her was the famed torturer Ostinato, one of the youngest and newest members of the organization and only tolerated because of her obvious skills; Ostinato was constantly whining and complaining, a trait that her fellow assassins were less than fond of. Nevertheless Waltz condescended to keep the petite girl with the fiery red hair in his employment – after all, she had successfully managed to torture a great deal of pertinent information out of many of Waltz's adversaries, and his father had always expressed upon him the advantages of staying well informed.
After Ostinato came Antiphon, Bellicoso, Feroce, and Gavotte, all grouped tightly together and bickering quietly amongst themselves. This struck Waltz as quite odd, for generally the members of Staccato put little stock in arguing and functioned together as flawlessly as a well oiled machine; Gavotte's unusual orange eyes were flashing malevolently and as Waltz watched she jabbed a finger in Feroce's face accusingly; Feroce, a seedy-looking character whose scraggly brown hair was always tied untidily back with a leather strap, scowled at her and snapped something rude in reply. Bellicoso, easily the largest among the group, snickered and thumped one meaty fist against his barrel chest; Antiphon, the quietest member of the assassin's organization, peered out from beneath her curtain of pale blonde hair and said nothing.
Waltz was about to order them to stop their petty arguments at once when Toccata strode into the audience hall at the back of the group, dragging the lifeless body of one of the members of Andantino in his wake. The Count's eyes lit up with malicious pleasure; Toccata swung his arm carelessly, heaving the body around by a handful of bloodstained hair, and deposited the little one's lifeless corpse at Count Waltz's feet. All the while, his face remained absolutely compassionless.
Fugue bent at the waist and spread his arms out wide, offering a bow of utmost obeisance to the monarch of Forte Castle. "Count Waltz… we have completed the errand you charged us with, and we are here now to report and to receive your next orders."
Count Waltz sat up straight in his throne and motioned for all of them to take seats; they did so at once, though Gavotte and Feroce continued to glare threateningly at one another. He could see that there would be little peace until the conflict was resolved, so heaving a heavy, tragic sigh Waltz snapped, "What seems to be the problem?"
Gavotte whipped her curtain of dark hair over her shoulder haughtily and crossed her arms, thrusting her nose in the air in a most superior fashion. "Count Waltz, with all due respect, I do not think that now is the time for us to cross blades with Andantino. The risk to our organization, and to the people of Forte City, is simply too great at this time."
"I disagree," snarled Feroce, his blue-gray eyes glinting like cold iron. "Just look at what we are capable of!" He nudged the motionless body of Andantino's Duolo none-too-gently with the toe of one of his leather boots. "The losses Andantino has incurred on our account are staggering. Now is the perfect time to strike. If we can simply eliminate Jazz – "
"What do you know about Jazz?" laughed Gavotte cruelly, her face twisted into a kind of unattractive hilarity.
"Enough!" bellowed Waltz, his eyes flashing violet flames, and his two subordinates instantly fell silent. "Gavotte, Feroce, Antiphon, Bellicoso, Ostinato… you may all remove yourselves from my sight. Fugue, Rondo, Toccata… you have my permission to stay."
Gavotte shot Waltz a sour look but otherwise did not protest; Bellicoso looked prepared to argue, but Feroce wisely slapped him on the back of the head and jerked his head toward the double doors. The five assassins trouped silently out of the Count's audience hall, shooting one another malicious glances with every step; the moment the doors had swung shut behind them, Waltz cast one black-velvet-gloved hand over his eyes and moaned. "Honestly… they bicker like small children. It is fortunate that I have you three, is it not?"
"Clearly if eliminating Jazz was as simple as they make it sound, we would have done it long ago," Rondo pointed out in her soft, seductive voice. "And Andantino would not be such a meddlesome bunch."
"Well spoken," Fugue congratulated her. "Though, if I may say so, it is only a matter of time."
"Indeed," agreed Waltz, and he settled back against the plush backing of the throne. "So – let us talk. Let me first congratulate you on what appears to have been a successful mission – I daresay that Andantino was surprised to see you?"
"Quite," answered Fugue. "It was clear that they were simply visiting A Cappella in order to investigate the rumors of dream drifters in the city… they were completely unprepared for our assault – " He paused to snicker softly down at Duolo's broken body, " – As you can see for yourself."
"And was it you, Fugue, who took this child's life from him? Whatever was his name again?" Waltz smirked most unpleasantly before finishing, "Vermin all start to look alike after awhile, wouldn't you agree?"
Fugue's lips twitched into a kind of half smile, and he cast a sidelong glance at Toccata, who had been quiet all the while. "While I would like to take credit for this victory, Count, I cannot – it was Toccata who slew the boy, while doing battle with Vivace."
Toccata at last jerked his head up; it appeared Fugue had interrupted him from some deep internal musings. "I cannot in good conscience call it a battle; Vivace and I never crossed blades. By the time Duolo had fallen to my blade, Andantino's third regiment was already in full retreat."
"And did you pursue them to the docks?" It was safe to assume that Andantino had made the journey to A Cappella by boat, for it was an island quite far out to sea and was otherwise not accessible.
"As far as we could, Count," Toccata replied monotonously. "The members of the third unit of Andantino are few, and require only one boat in which to travel; it is far faster than ours, unfortunately, and so we had no choice but to let them escape for the time being."
"It was then that this discussion of mounting a full-frontal assault on Andantino came to a head," Rondo confessed, "despite our best efforts to keep the rabble to a dull roar."
Count Waltz again extracted the sheaf of parchment from a back pocket of his fine breeches, unrolling it with exaggerated care and perusing its contents with more than a little interest; seeing this, Fugue glanced sidelong at Rondo, who offered the most minute shake of her head in response to his unspoken question. Toccata merely watched Waltz indifferently, knowing well the Count's love for dramatics and trusting that the young monarch would offer some enlightenment into his strange behavior in due course.
He was correct, as usual. "An interesting development has arisen – I have made correspondence with Crescendo this day."
"The Prince of Baroque?" Fugue barked, taken aback, and Waltz rolled his eyes to the ceiling.
"Yes, the Prince of Baroque, you fool – who else would I be speaking of, do you suppose?" Fugue settled down into his chair, looking sheepish; when he was certain that Fugue would not be offering up any more foolish interruptions, Count Waltz turned his eyes back upon Crescendo's letter. "He has penned an offer of peace between Forte and Baroque, stating that the hostilities between our two great nations should be ceased at once in the interest of all the people… As his insurance, he requests the hand of Princess Serenade." His violet eyes refocused on the three of them over the top of the parchment, looking skeptical. "In short, he wishes to wed my eldest cousin."
Rondo, who had long been one of Serenade's closest confidantes as well as one of the princess's strongest supporters, objected immediately. "Princess Serenade, a lapdog for the pompous pretender to Baroque's throne? Surely you are not considering this, Count Waltz?"
Waltz's expression turned sour. "On the contrary, I am."
There was a stunned silence in the Count's audience hall, but it did not last very long before Waltz's three primary advisors reacted uproariously; Rondo's was the first voice to make itself heard. "Count Waltz, I beseech you! Do not give Princess Serenade away to that fool Crescendo! He will corrupt her, he will turn her interests against Forte… This can only end in disaster!"
It was Fugue who answered on Waltz's behalf, in a biting tone that made the Count proud. "You do not truly think that Princess Serenade is as weak-willed and impressionable as all that, do you? Do not forget – she is, first and foremost, a Princess of Forte. I believe I can see the Count's logic behind this decision."
"Nothing has been decided yet," Count Waltz corrected, and he tossed the Prince's letter carelessly away from him; Toccata caught the parchment deftly in one hand and straightened it, considering every word Crescendo had penned very carefully as Waltz continued to address them. "In my reply I made it clear to Crescendo that this decision ultimately rests with Princess Serenade; if she wishes to bind herself to him, then of course I will make it so. However, do not ever make the mistake of thinking that she would cast Forte off as negligible simply on account of a marriage vow – her loyalty lay irrevocably with her father, King Affrettando, when he was alive, and it will not likely be swayed."
"Then you will… put Crescendo's proposition to Princess Serenade?" asked Fugue haltingly, looking moderately uncomfortable.
"Yes, I plan to, and that is all I care to discuss on this matter," Waltz told them warningly, and Toccata wisely stepped in to change the subject.
"I think, Count Waltz, that it would be to our benefit to at least discuss our next move against the rebels of Andantino," Toccata suggested. "Of course, I am not saying that we should plan such an aggressive act as the one the rest of Staccato suggests – but it would be unwise to continue about in this vein without appeasing them. We would do well, I think, to use their enthusiasm to our advantage."
Count Waltz leaned comfortably back in his throne again, tapping his chin with one black velvet index finger. "What do you suggest, Toccata?"
Toccata modestly spread his hands. "I would never presume to interfere with matters of state, Your Eminence."
But Waltz wouldn't let him evade. "Your opinion, Toccata."
Toccata considered the matter carefully before he spoke; after all, Count Waltz rarely asked anyone for advice, and more often than not outright rejected the counsel of those he did. After careful deliberation, Toccata cleared his throat. "It might be prudent of us to take a more aggressive approach against Andantino. As you know, most of the younger members of Staccato only considered offering their services for one reason – to fight the rogues. As far as I am concerned, our private war against Crescendo and Baroque is still in play until such time as Princess Serenade accepts his offer of marriage – if she accepts it at all, that is – so should we not use this time to our advantage? We have taken the life of one member of Andantino this day." He paused to smile malevolently down at Duolo's body once more, and Fugue snickered remorselessly. "Let us press our advantage. Let us claim as many more lives as we are able." As he finished he glanced around to see how his words had been received; Rondo was nodding along, her face lit up with a very rare smile, and Fugue even bent into a little bow for his trouble.
Count Waltz was looking both devious and victorious, and answered in a voice that was filled with malicious pleasure. "I think that, given the current circumstances, it would be to our advantage to do just as you suggest, Toccata. The reply I sent to Crescendo was, in a word, amiable – he will not expect an open display of aggression from us at this point. I still believe that Crescendo is in direct correspondence with Jazz – " Waltz's three advisors hissed at the mention of the leader of Andantino, and Waltz smirked to himself. " – And I also believe that he will share every word of my reply with his favored liaison. Jazz will be off his guard, as will the rest of that rabble. As much as it pains me to admit it, I find myself in agreement with that barbarian Bellicoso – the time for action is right now."
Rondo chose that moment to speak. "According to the informant that we recently planted in Andantino, the third regiment is moving out again soon - on Jazz's own orders, no less."
"And where are they bound?"
"Agogo Forest, Count Waltz. They have been curious about the little creatures ever since they learned of your interest in them. I am certain they will be on their way as soon as they are able."
Waltz clapped his hands together once jubilantly, though the sound was muffled by the supple material of his gloves. "Excellent… Here is what I wish for you to do. Assemble Staccato and give them all the information they will need regarding the agogos of the forest; one of them might prove useful, and succeed in capturing one of the creatures for further experimentation. Further cultivating the mineral powder for extended use and stronger results is very high on my list of priorities, as you well know – he who helps realize this dream will be well rewarded. In the meantime, make it plain that this mission will set our forces against Andantino, and that I will personally recognize anyone who dispatches one of the rebels."
The Count of Forte Castle rose from his throne and beckoned for his advisors to do the same; Fugue, Rondo, and Toccata all abandoned their seats and bowed low, murmuring various words of obeisance and their promises that his will would be done. Waltz dismissed them all without another word, then retrieved Prince Crescendo's letter from the ground and retreated to his desk, perusing the parchment's contents with obvious distaste.
At his desk he took up a lit candle and set fire to one edge of the heavy sheaf; the light from the fire danced in his violet eyes, and he smiled to himself. "Ah, Crescendo… I fear that by the time you realize that you have been deceived, it will be far too late!"
