First and foremost- thank you so much to those who reviewed! Your kind words mean a lot, and I greatly appreciate the feedback. I'll do my best to keep all your suggestions and comments in mind. (:
Secondly, I might be interested in a beta reader. I always miss something when it comes to spelling, grammar, and simple lapses of attention (such as Doctor Bovril in the last chapter), and it would be nice to have somebody to bounce ideas off of, especially since there are some details in this story that I've yet to iron out. If you're interested, feel free to PM me.
I think that's about it. As always, if there are any thoughts or concerns, be sure to let me know in your review~
Oh, and I forgot to put this in the first chapter: I own nothing!
The halls of the Endeavour were silent, filled with the kind of tangible quiet that settled over the entire ship like a blanket. On the Leviathan, even in the middle of the night, there was always some kind of noise, whether it was the scuttling of the messenger lizards or the dull, but always present hum of the Clanker engines. Alek didn't especially mind, having grown up in a relatively calm and tame environment, but after months of seemingly non-stop action, the complete and utter silence was slightly unnerving.
Despite looking over his shoulder every time he heard a floorboard creak, Alek certainly took his time making his way to Volger's stateroom. A journey that should only have taken two or three minutes turned into a twenty minute trek, accompanied by a five minute period of simply staring at the older man's door, debating on whether or not he should see what the wildcount had to say, or retreat back to his own quarters. Perhaps against his better judgment, Alek rapped hesitantly against the door, which cracked open ever so slightly moments later.
Seeing no way out of an inevitable chat with Volger (with the exception of the ship crashing), Alek shuffled into the room, shutting the door quietly behind himself. Volger's quarters were plain, a carbon copy of the rest of the spaces on the Endeavour, but at least the rest of the ship's inhabitants had added some sort of personal touch to their living area. Deryn had all sorts of military memorabilia tacked onto the walls, in addition to new charts of plants and hybrid animals that almost entirely obscured the floor. Even Alek had assorted items from his recent travels adorning his walls, but the only evidence that somebody took up space in this room was a rather common looking globe, and two steaming cups of tea on the table. His host, however, was nowhere to be seen.
Lifting his shoulders in a small shrug, Alek took a seat in the nearest of the two high backed chairs facing the coffee table. He tentatively brought one of the china cups to his lips, eyes narrowing warily when he recognized the familiar aroma of chamomile. Volger hated chamomile, often lamenting about how Alek's mother had instilled poor habits in her son when it came to choosing proper beverages. He never bothered to mind the count's opinion, of course, but he couldn't help but feel suspicious over Volger's choice of drinks.
"It's not poisoned, you know," came Volger's haughty drawl from behind him. Moments later, a newspaper fell into Alek's lap, which he fumbled to catch as he set the tea back down on the coaster. Silence had once again settled between them as Alek processed the fiery, crumbled façade of the Hofburg Palace, which was clearly displayed in all its black and white glory on the front page of the paper. He could almost picture in his mind's eye the twisting, devastating licks of flame consuming the palace in a wild conflagration, devouring the elegant pillars and marring the antiquated exterior with ash and soot.
"Wha- what happened?" he stuttered as he turned his attention to Volger, obviously expecting some kind of explanation. The man was impassive as ever as he sipped idly at his tea, but Alek had spent quite a few months traversing the wild outdoors with the count, and he didn't miss the whitened knuckles of Volger's hand, nor the incessant tapping of his fingers against his knee.
"Bombed," he said curtly. "Earlier today. Thirty people were killed."
Alek, stunned, leaned back in his seat, staring at the photo on the front page but not truly seeing it. The Hofburg Palace, his childhood home, destroyed. An unfamiliar premonition of anger settled in his stomach, manifesting physically as Alek balled up the newspaper and chucked it to some unknown corner of the room.
"It's too soon to say if the same individuals who were responsible for the first bombing were also responsible for this one," Volger mused, dragging Alek out of his reverie. The former prince's brows furrowed as he recalled a few months earlier, where the Hohenburg's summer retreat on the Black Sea had been similarly decimated. The place was hardly a "retreat", rather another grand show of power where his father would often invite important dignitaries and people of significance from the court and host parties that would be talked about for weeks. Nonetheless, it had been a staple of Alek's childhood, and its ruination had procured a similar reaction from him when he had first learned of the building's fate.
"I can't help but wonder if a pattern might be emerging," Volger continued to speculate, which earned him a venomous glare from Alek.
"I hardly think two bombings is enough to elicit a pattern," he spat back. It was merely coincidence, he told himself, a crazed group of radicals that was angry at the aristocracy.
"Really, Alek? Two places near and dear to your family are destroyed, and if you would have bothered to read farther, you would have noticed that several of your father's portraits and personal items were vandalized. My speculation isn't completely without merit," Volger said coolly. Alek opened his mouth to retort, but the words died on his tongue. He hated to admit it, but the wildcount had a point. For whatever reason, somebody was targeting his family, despite the fact that its most prominent members were long dead.
"So, did you want to talk to me just to tell me that? I would have found out in the morning, and we would have saved each other the trouble of having this conversation," Alek growled, not caring if his words sounded harsher than intended. God help him, if Volger intended to give him a lecture-
"I simply want you to be careful," murmured the count, interrupting Alek's rambling thoughts. Alek blinked stupidly, the words seeming so trivial in comparison to what they had been discussing moments before.
"Be…careful? You just wanted to say that?" His expression quickly changed from baffled to annoyed, a mask which was becoming customary when dealing with Volger. Volger only rolled his eyes, which only added to Alek's mood; no doubt if he had done a similar gesture, the count would have yapped at him for conducting himself in such an "un-princely" manner.
"Stop acting like a child, Alek," the man huffed, clearly exasperated with Alek's petulant behavior. "You know as well as I do that this is a delicate time for Europe, and it wouldn't kill you to keep an eye out for yourself. Especially tomorrow night, at the Zoological Society's gala." Alek's eyes flickered open in surprise—he had forgotten about the event altogether. Come to think of it, the package he and Deryn had delivered to Doctor Barlow's quarters had probably been some new creature that was due to be presented at the gala upon the morrow. It better have been worth the trouble.
"Yes, Volger, because terrorists care so much about the newest fabricated rodents and handbags," Alek grunted in response. The reminder of the gala only added his already foul mood. Normally he didn't mind formal affairs, having attended several back in Austria with his parents, and he had learned quite well to put on a black face and smile, shake hands, and humor the particularly long-winded ambassadors. But at least foreign affairs were interesting. At this event, he would literally be watching paint dry as a demonstration of what a new fabricated species of fungus could do to speed up the process.
"I don't think we have anything to worry about. Really." Alek wouldn't say it, but he almost hoped something happened to disrupt the monotony he was sure to enjoy the following night.
Having no strong desire to continue listening to Volger's nagging, Alek placed the still half-full cup of tea back on the table and lifted himself from his chair, brushing imaginary lint from the crease of his jacket.
"Just because you don't value your own wellbeing doesn't mean the feeling is mutual amongst the rest of us," Volger said softly, earning a wary glance from Alek. The younger man was taken aback by the oddly protective implications of the statement, but a brief reminder of the bitter argument they'd had months back stopped Alek from returning the sentiment.
"I'm perfectly capable of looking after myself. Thank you for the tea, Volger." And with that, the door closed abruptly behind the former prince as he made his way back to his own quarters. His thoughts were a jumbled mess, first brooding on the tedious gala and contemplating Volger's warnings, before settling on the fact that his childhood home had been essentially destroyed. To most people, the Hofburg Palace was just a symbol of an imperial government with crumbling power, but to Alek, it was far, far more personal. He had thought that by revoking his claim to the throne and joining Deryn in the Zoological Society, he had hoped to start anew, yet he couldn't help but feel oddly…empty due to the loss of the hallmarks of his past. He was suddenly overcome with an immense feeling of homesickness that left him stumbling into his own room, leaning against the wall for support. Within seconds it had passed, but the brief experience left him feeling acutely alone.
Alek sighed as he flopped onto his bed, his limbs splayed gracelessly across the sheets as he stared blankly up at the ceiling. Surely this was merely a fleeting phase. After all, he hadn't set foot in Austria in almost a year, and despite having Deryn and other familiar faces around, one couldn't help but be a bit homesick, right? Maybe he could bring this up with Volger….
With a quick shake of his head, the thought was dismissed; Alek wasn't quite ready to forgive the older man, not yet. And Deryn would just dismiss him as a worry wart, and though he hated to admit it, she was probably right. He was making a mountain out of a mole hill, and hopefully by morning, he could put this entire ordeal behind him.
Sorry if this is moving a bit slow for some of you guys, it should be picking up pretty soon. Hope I'm not disappointing any of you. D:
Also, I'll try to keep to weekly updates, as well, and longer chapters.
Reviews are always appreciated. :]