Chapter 11

"Many Happy Returns"

November 30th, 1916

Outside of Vienna, Austria

When he had campaigned for peace during the Great War alongside Tesla, Alek took painstaking measures to ensure that he didn't jeopardize his right to the Austrian throne. As such, he primarily drew attention to the horrific conditions in which the Darwinists and Clankers were fighting, usually regarding the trenches of the Western Front. While he was openly critical of Germany for its possible role in igniting the conflict, he generally sidestepped or downplayed references to Austria-Hungary's own role in starting the conflict. That way, he could maintain a public image beloved by the major Darwinist players in the war, whilst also not seeming like a complete turncoat to his people. And, in a sense, he wasn't: he had no ill will towards the Clanker technological powers, and personally preferred machines to fabrications. He switched sides solely because his granduncle and the Kaiser wanted him dead.

Yet, in spite of this, the first word that had been directed towards him upon disembarking the airship was, "race traitor."

It hadn't been said to his face. It was a faint hiss, a vague insult hurled at him by some anonymous member of his escort party. He couldn't make out who it was by direction, as his guards frequently swapped positions while moving. He had to wonder: did everyone around him feel that way? He tried to be as neutral as possible while pursuing peace in a polarizing state of affairs. But, at the end of the day, he had sided with Darwinist England over his home state of Austria. To the average soldier, he might be considered as traitorous as Ms. Gottschalk herself. In fact, some huddled whispers traveling through the Totenglocke's air vents had insisted that he was working alongside her somehow, attempting to subvert Austria's stability from the inside.

Volger seemed unaware of the incident. He had been involved in, and was still partaking in, a conversation with Jung regarding the sweeping changes Austria had undertaken to adapt to the new conflict.

"I still find many of these reforms to be fascinating, although somewhat dramatic for a country in such a delicate state," he told Jung, who was still being pushed along by one of the enlisted men. "Such as these rifles, for example," he pointed towards the angular, thin rifles held by each of the escorts beside them.

Alek had noticed the lack of traditional, bolt-action Gewehr 98's among the Austrian soldiers ever since they had first boarded the Totenglocke. Most of them either carried Mauser pistols with extended barrels and wooden stocks, or these rather plain-looking rifles that sometimes had unusual drum-like attachments underneath their receivers.

"Oh, I wouldn't underestimate these masterpieces," Jung said back. "They're Mondragon rifles, made by some hotshot Mexican general, or something along the lines of that. All of them are semi-automatic, so there's no need to operate the bolt unless it jams. Eight rounds in the typical clip, too, unless you're carrying one of these beasts," he tapped the circular magazine of the nearest rifle, "where you get thirty shots in a replaceable drum."

"Amazing," Alek said to himself, feeling particularly astonished. As he had realized during his encounters with the German military, infantry units were usually hampered by the relatively slow rate of fire given by bolt-action weapons. Sometimes, heavier machine guns were given to supplement their firepower, but heating issues with that class of weapon limited its effectiveness. With that sort of weapon, soldiers could produce a near-unending barrage of bullets. It could be infinitely useful in the right hands…or produce horrifying results if given to the wrong types of people.

"Yeah, it is 'amazing.' And we got them for a fraction of the price, too." Jung seemed almost gleeful at describing this. "The Germans bought a massive shipment of them during the war, but they would always jam in the mud of the trenches. So, not even bothering to think, 'you know, maybe we should try testing this weapon in a different environment,' they declared it to be a failure and dumped most of their surviving rifles on us. And, wouldn't you know it, it worked much better in urban and naval warfare than it did in the trenches!"

Although the German military was crafty and downright ingenious at times, the Kaiser was well-known for his shortsightedness and impulsive decisions. It barely surprised him that the Germans had ignored the potential benefits that a self-loading rifle could bring.

"Why the change in uniforms, though? There was never an issue with blue when I was serving. Blue is a royal color, a respectful color-"

"-And a complete giveaway to anyone with half a brain," Jung interjected. "Tell me – what exactly in our current area matches with blue?" he asked, making a sweeping motion with his left arm, noting the dull color hues around the Loyalists' forward base of operations near Vienna. "Yeah, that's what I thought. Never pegged you as a strategist, Volger, but I thought that you'd have the slightest bit of common sense to realize that gray works much better in near damn every situation."

Alek had grown sick and tired of his verbal abuse. He stepped forward, ready to give him the same type of tongue-lashing he and Volger had been getting since they had met Jung…until Volger placed his hand in front of his path, as if he was saying, "no," to him.

"I'm sorry that you feel that way," Volger said. Once again, Jung looked annoyed, as if he had anticipated Alek's intervention, or just wanted to get a reaction from the two. To say his behavior was odd would be an understatement to Alek. It was almost as if he took their presence as a personal offense. Nevertheless, he continued to lead them through the heavily-populated base.

It was odd, seeing so many Austrian soldiers moving around the base without a single one aiming a rifle at his chest. Walkers of various grades, from the traditional Stormwalker design to unusual, four-legged, disc-shaped types, stomped throughout the enclosure of the area. Meanwhile, the heavily-armed Dreadbringer models patrolled the outskirts, aiming their artillery cannons in the direction of the mysterious no man's land. It reminded him of his enthusiasm for walkers from a very young age…and how he learned of his parents' deaths while in the cockpit of one. His stomach churned at the thought of that moment, when he felt like he had lost everything.

The closer he got to the officer's tent, the more people began to recognize him. It seemed as if every soldier he passed by did a double-take at the sight of him, usually accompanied by startled cries of, "Prince Alek?" A few of the more embittered-looking men averted their eyes or shook their heads, while fresh-faced recruits looked so amazed at his presence that it seemed as if they wanted to run over and shake his hand.

In spite of his efforts to remain humble, Alek was unable to stop himself from smiling. He really had made a difference in his people's lives. Even though he had made enemies in the process, he felt as though saving Austria from that disastrous war was well worth the price. He hoped that he could do the same thing with its civil war.

When they had reached the officers' tent, an man in a full colonel's uniform stepped out to greet them. He had an overall gaunt appearance, and was chewing on a lit cigar. He walked oddly, too, as if he had a limp. Most likely, he was one of the "old breed" that had served prior to the Great War.

Jung gave a customary salute and said, "Here they are, colonel. I'm guessing that you'll do the debriefing?"

The colonel nodded, taking the cigar out of his mouth with his left hand. "They both know what they're going to do, but protocol is protocol. Nowadays, everything has to be done by the book, no matter how pointless it can get. Regulations always bog down a fighting man." He stroked his thick, black beard wistfully, and added, "Isn't that right, Volger?"

"It's good to see you too, Waechter." Alek couldn't help but notice that his tone was icier than it had been before, though. In addition, he was wearing his neutral, difficult-to-read expression on his face that was reserved for unfamiliar people and potential hazards to their lives. However, although Volger seemed to know him, his name and appearance eluded Alek's memories, both before and after his escape.

Waechter smiled, either unaware of Volger's change in tone, or amused by it. "Well, no need to stand out in the cold. Volger, Alek, come in. Everyone else, stand guard outside until our meeting is finished." While Jung was rolled away by another private, the remaining five soldiers positioned themselves outside of the tent's entrance.

The inside of the officers' tent was buzzing with activity, mirroring the constant activity outside. The continuous din of radios being operated filled the relatively narrow space with a cacophony of electronic buzzing and coded orders getting sent out. Stacks of documents were being carried back and forth, all while their recipients scrambled to quickly reject or sign off on each one.

Thankfully, Waechter led Alek and Volger to a much less populated "room" of the tent. "So," Waechter asked, leaning on a nearby collapsible chair, "you want to help Austria now, correct? Why the sudden change in heart?"

"Colonel, I've always had Austria's best interests in mind," Alek said, recognizing the thinly-veiled accusation of betrayal in his question. "I only joined the Darwinists because my life was in danger from the Germans! Even then, I never turned against Austria or its citizens!"

"You know, that's a pretty interesting idea you have there." Waechter dabbed his cigar in an ashtray, leaving it there to smolder. As Alek had learned during his travels, no officer's hut was complete without some sort of ashtray, and this was no exception. "That's very noble of you, acting like your little publicity stunt with the Darwinists didn't affect the war effort at all. Placing all the blame on Austria's leadership and Germany? Oh, I'm sure that, in no way, made us seem like the villains of that war, or turned a sizeable chunk of our people against us!"

"Waechter, we did not travel all this way to be mocked by you and your subordinates!" Volger shot back. "We came here with the intention of helping your military bring this war to a close. Now, if you want to continue this childish rant of yours, Alek and I will escort ourselves to the nearest airship and take our assistance elsewhere. Otherwise, I would like to accomplish something other than hearing sarcastic remarks today!"

For once, Alek was grateful to have Volger's unshakeable resolve awakened.

"You know what? Fine, fine. Let's assume everything is hunky-dory between us. Okay, ex-count and ex-prince, you both have been contracted by the Armed Forces of the Republic of German-Austria to lend your specific talents to our cause. Aleksandar…whose last name is still a mystery to me…you will be assigned to our engineering corps to construct and defend military facilities, provide the safe disposal of undetonated explosives and mines, and provide necessary repairs to our armored vehicles. Volger, you will act as an independent contractor and low-level advisor to our officers. Since you both have a history with Darwinist nations, you will not have access to any confidential information without the consent of myself or my superiors. Understand?"

"Well…" Alek began, unsure of whether Waechter deserved his honest opinions or just affirmative lies, "…I have two issues to bring up. The first of which is: technically, I have no 'true' last name. The closest title I have to that is 'of Hohenberg,' although I'm aware that a lot of people still believe it to be 'Ferdinand.'"

Waechter sighed, clearly not bothering to hide his annoyance with them. "Your complaint has been noted. What else did you want to bring up?"

The next part had to be said carefully. "Well, sir…I feel as though my skills are not fully put to use as an engineer. Don't get me wrong, I love working with walkers, and I'm not opposed to repairing Austria's infrastructure! But…my real talents lie with politics. At the risk of sounding like a braggart, I have an immense amount of experience with international relations. I've been tutored on the matter since I was five years old, and I know how to be empathetic to people. I can write and deliver my own speeches, as I did during my tour of the United States with Tesla. I can be a valuable asset to Austria if I work with its public affairs!"

Waechter's expression seemed almost curious, giving Alek the motivation to speak further. "Just think what would happen if the Allied Powers saw someone like me, who has been notably wronged by Clankers in the past, speaking out against the Austrian-Darwinist Alliance! Some of them are on the fence about Ms. Gottschalk and her rebels as it is, so if I address the growing humanitarian issues caused by her rebellion…then who knows, they might pressure her into negotiating! Better yet, they might abandon their support of the rebels entirely! Even something as small as rallying the Austrian people behind your cause would be a feather in Chancellor Renner's cap! I can help you all so much more, if you would just give me a chance."

It was too good of an offer for Waechter to pass up, or so Alek thought. But, instead of an eager "yes," and a reassignment, he shook his head. The fire in his eyes had not simmered down.

"Since you clearly haven't let it sink in since your granduncle disowned you, let me make something clear to the both of you: you are not the savior of Austria sent to save us all. You are not unique. You are not some expert on politics or warfare. You have been in the right place at the right time multiple times in a row, and nothing even resembling competency brought you there. The sooner you grasp your disposability, the sooner you can make an actual difference to the war effort. Have I made myself clear, or are you both still consumed with the idea of retaking a non-existent throne?"

Alek felt humiliated. Of course he had to go mouthing off about his accomplishments in front of an experienced commander! For all extents and purposes, he had gone from very little credibility to a perceived ego trip. Back in the Zoological Society, they had recognized his talents and made good use of them. Why did that have to not apply here?

"Yes, we are keenly aware of your disdain for us," Volger flatly responded. "But, for now, where will our quarters be?"

"You will be moved to – give me a second while I sort this out." Waechter flipped through the large notebook positioned on the table adjacent to them. The entire "room" seemed to belong to some higher-ranking officer, as it had several personal belongings scattered around in specific places. A framed photograph of a bespectacled general sat beside the aforementioned notebook. "Let's see…Alek will be temporarily stationed with the engineering corps' barracks, barrack number 13 to be exact. Volger, you will be permanently staying at our civilian quarters."

"If you remember, Waechter, I am not a civilian," Volger insisted. "I served in Austria's cavalry for many years, and I distinctly recall saving your life when you were nothing more than a hot-headed recruit!"

Waechter merely snorted at the wildcount's claim. "Times have changed, Volger. Not that long ago, I would've been willing to take a bullet for you." He looked disappointed, though whether it was directed towards them or himself was a rough guess. "Anyway, the decision wasn't mine to make. If I could give you some advice, it would be to accept it and to not try to rock the boat. You are both dismissed to your quarters until further notice."

The barrack itself was unoccupied when Alek arrived.

He and Volger went their separate ways soon after exiting the officers' tent, but not before he had given him one last piece of advice. "Remember, Your Serene Highness," he told Alek, "not all of these men attempted to hunt us down. The more allies you can make, the easier it will be to ward off any enemies among us."

The quarters looked exactly as he anticipated: rudimentary and undecorated, with the only pieces of furniture being metal-frame bunk beds and wooden trunks painted in the bluish-gray color of the old Austrian Armed Forces uniforms. Picking out the only bed without a trunk nearby, Alek set down his luggage on the bumpy mattress. He hoped that he would get a proper uniform by the end of the day; as it was, he had made the mistake of under-packing, and had only a few aged pieces of formal wear with him. Deryn was right, he was a complete ditz when it came to practical matters like packing.

As he organized his clothes, the leftmost door creaked open. "Oh, you must be the new guy," someone behind him said. "Well, let me introduce myself. I'm Corporal Boesch, and I'm the medic that's supposed to tag along with all of you engineers. Now, what's your name?"

Alek turned around, seeing that the corporal was fairly young, possibly a year or two older than he was. He looked happy and upbeat, which meant he most likely hadn't been in a serious gunfight yet. On the bright side, Alek thought, he seemed enthusiastic, while the men he had encountered so far were more uptight.

"I'm Aleksandar of Hohenberg," he responded, "but you can just call me Alek."

Boesch looked as though he was staring down a friendly Stormwalker. "A…Alek?" he nearly cried, simultaneously amazed and shocked by his presence. "Good Lord, it really is you! I've always wanted to meet you in person! And, please, just call me Boesch."

This type of reception was a welcome change. "I'll be honest, that's the first time I've heard that today," he said.

"Why? You're a hero! You did so much to help Austria out during the war!"

"Just to clarify, you do know that I fled Austria and joined the Zoological Society, correct?" As far as he was concerned, it was better to have a true ally than an ally obtained from half-truths and deceptions. Those kinds of allies are quick to turn on their benefactors whenever the truth comes out.

'"Well, of course! Just about everyone in the Austrian Army has read about that! But that was your granduncle who ordered your assassination, right? I read those articles about you in the translated imports of the New York World!"

No matter where he went, the influence of Eddie Malone's reporting always followed in his wake. At least it had a beneficial impact this time. "Translated imports?" he asked.

"I know that it sounds odd, but the New York World has a bit of a following among both Clankers and Darwinists in Austria. The government-run newspapers are unreliable when it comes to world news, and never give honest reports on our wartime progress. The first German-language copies were found in abandoned A.D.A. outposts, and our guys couldn't stop reading them! So, one of the supply officers managed to snag a deal with some printing firm overseas to ship hundreds of translated copies to here, where they're eaten up by both the soldiers on-post and the civilians of Vienna."

"Sounds...treasonous. It's fascinating, too, but I can't imagine that the Chancellor is pleased about this. Haven't the officers in charge ever tried to put a stop to this?"

"They did, but it ended up doing much more harm than good when it came to morale. After a few months, they kind of gave up their crusade and let the circulation continue alongside the state-sponsored one. Funny thing is, the Chancellor himself was the one responsible for lifting the ban on it! He said something along the lines of, 'The people of Austria deserve to know the whole truth about their country's place in the world,' or something else close to it, but the point is that he was willing to sacrifice his grip on the media for us!"

"Anyway," Boesch continued on, visibly enraptured from being the same room as him, "it was because of those stories about your real reason for defecting – and those pro-peace messages you gave during that Goliath tour – that the Austrian people came to respect and admire you." Jokingly, he poked Alek's forehead for effect, and said, "I hope you can pull the same war-ending tricks out of your hat like you did a couple of years back. I'd really like to be able to go home without worrying about getting shot in the near future."

Boesch's name was called from outside the barrack. "Alright, I got to get going back to work. You should definitely rest up while you can, because if there's one thing I've learned about working here, it's that there's no real end to the work you do." He eagerly shook Alek's hand, and said, "It's been an honor meeting you, Alek! See you soon!"

"You too, Boesch." Alek said, as his new acquaintance ran out the door to his duties. He laid back on his bed, trying to get used to the uneven surface of the mattress. It seemed like he was many things to the Austrian people: a hero, a peace-bringer, a race traitor, and a degenerate defector to the Darwinists. Maybe there was so much conflicting information going around about him that they were hesitant to make a clear judgment about him.

"Maybe I should do something about that…" he said to himself, closing his eyes and resting for the trials that inevitably awaited him.

A/N: Coming with this chapter update is an extensive rewrite of Chapter One, now with 100% less use of unlimited third-person narration, and much more! As always, no key plot details were changed, although some aspects of characters were altered or rewritten. I would highly recommend reading it at some point, as it eliminates a few minor conflicting details between it and later chapters.

As always, here's some historical context and clarification:

-The Mondragon Rifle was actually a real weapon, and a revolutionary one at that. It was a semi-automatic rifle that fired off of 7.57mm Mauser ammunition, and could be converted into a light machine gun with 30-round drums with certain modifications. The sheer potential for it, however (considering the fact that most armies used aging bolt-action rifles at the time), was squandered during WW1, when it was deployed on the Western Front by the Germans. When it worked, it excelled, but it had issues with mud and dirt-related jams. It did find some success in the German Navy and the Mexican Army, but it eventually faded into obscurity when the Allied Powers stuck by their existing, reliable rifles and heavy machine guns. The spiritual successor to it was the M1 Garand, and that ended up revolutionizing infantry weapons in WW2. Although there never was a (recorded) sale of Mondragons to Austria, I'd like to think that the rifles would've proved their worth if they had been tested in different environments, as they are in this story.

-The idea of underground newspapers being distributed has been going on for centuries, though the notion of importing and translating a nuanced paper like the New York World is a bit far-fetched. For a war-worn people like the Austrians of the Leviathan series, perhaps the extra effort may be worth getting information from outside of the Kaiser's domain. Is it unlikely? Yes, but certainly not impossible. In a world where giant, flying whale-like creatures battle against cybernetic zeppelins, I don't think that the word "impossible" exists.