by NightsDawne
The Gods of History can please deflect their bolts of destruction from me for the use of unauthorized futuristic technology employed by one beautiful French spy. It was in the game. Game purists, however, will note that I do my best to switch Margarete's secret weapons from outrageous to fictionally plausible with sufficient suspension of disbelief.
Chapter 6: Women and Men
Near Eisenstadt, Austria, 9 July 1916
Keith closed the door of their train compartment as Margarete opened the case at her side, designed to pass for a business attaché bag. He'd carried it for her to keep from arousing suspicion, but had felt her anxious eyes on it the entire time. He sat down across from her and tilted his head in curiosity as she pulled from it her most valued tool, a miniaturized version of a Marconi that allowed her to contact her associates in the highly evolved French Intelligence.
"Oh good, it's safe," Margarete muttered as she replaced it gently in its case.
"I assure you I was as careful as possible." Keith leaned against the window, gazing at the beauty opposite him. While even the simplest of technologies was a wonder to his 18th century experience, Margarete was capable of understanding and using items that to him seemed pure sorcery. He'd become acclimated to gaslights, long distance communication, even automobiles and harnessed electricity, but they still left him feeling out of place in the new world.
Moreso than anything else, though, it was the social structure that confused and overwhelmed him. The days of glory for monarchs had already begun to fade when he fell into his two century slumber, but now it was clear that even the last vestiges of the world he knew were facing their final hour. While the class system had never been his first choice, it was becoming nearly impossible for him to make the switch to understanding the rapid pace at which people could change the roles they were born to. The line between commoner and nobleman had been blurred to indistinction by this phenomenon called the middle class.
The most startling changes, however, had been in the attitudes and power of women. He was happy to see that they viewed themselves as equals and were beginning to claim their place beside the other half of humanity. He fully approved of them having educations and choices beyond marriage and childbearing. He was at a loss, though, as to how to relate to them, these 20th century women. He had been raised to provide the opposite gender with chivalry, charm, and protection, but these hardly seemed adequate to women who deemed themselves capable of caring for their own immediate needs.
Margarete championed this new spirit of independence, a force stronger than most men when it came to combat and with courage that paled their attempts at valor. He couldn't question her femininity, for she was by far the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen in his life, but she wasn't at all delicate or submissive. Up until the rebuke of her slap he'd made the mistake of assuming that because she outshone men in her forwardness and fighting that he could treat her as he could any of the men he'd called comrades. In the days since, he'd held his tongue, struggling to reassess their relationship.
Margarete caught his gaze and raised a brow. "What?"
"Nothing." Keith smiled slightly. "How does that thing work anyhow?"
"The Marconi?" Margarete sighed. "It turns sound into radio waves and sends them out to be picked up by an antenna and turned back into sound at another Marconi station. My pilot has one, as does HQ. And there's about a thousand other stations, which is why I can't use it right now. The radio waves would be picked up and it would certainly look highly suspicious."
"Ah." Keith nodded knowingly with complete ignorance. "Radio.. waves."
Margarete rolled her eyes. "I can't teach you everything that's happened since the Industrial Revolution. It just works, trust me."
Keith sat forward, fidgeting and once more feeling left behind. "Sorry. I don't mean to sound so stupid. I am truly interested in these things."
Margarete softened, reaching out to give his hand a squeeze. "Don't worry. Most people don't know and don't care how things work so long as they work. I didn't mean to insult you. Maybe when this is all done you can read up on everything you missed."
"I suppose. It can't be boring at least."
Margarete sat back, studying him. "That's why you went to sleep last time, wasn't it. It must have been a shock to wake up to all the new things that have been invented since the 1700s."
"That was part of it. I told you my reason." Keith looked out the window. "The pace of modern life is exhausting. Exciting, but tiring."
Margarete grinned. "Well, I'm sure there's things you know that I don't. Like how to milk a cow or something."
Keith raised a brow and looked back at her. "I am a prince, not a milkmaid, mon amie."
"Okay, bad example. But you know all that hocus pocus summoning stuff."
"Rituals, you mean?" Keith chuckled. "Good enough, though not too helpful in bringing me up to date."
"Fine, I'll take you to a library and let you study to your heart's content once we're done, alright? You're starting to make me feel sorry for you." Margarete offered a wink.
"Oh, poor, piteous me." Keith draped his wrist dramatically across his brow.
Margarete snickered. "Will you stop that?"
"Only if you tell me one thing."
Margarete crossed her arms. "What now? Do you want me to explain the locomotive engine?"
"No, I'm sure there's a book on that." He leaned forward. "Why is it that someone as beautiful as you never married?"
Margarete frowned. "Well why didn't you? You're older than I am."
"I asked you first, though."
Margarete shrugged. "Never had a proposal that suited me. Men tend to resent their wives continuing to work once the wedding vows are said and I'm not ready to give up my career yet."
"I can understand that. You're very good at what you do, but it's easy to see a man being threatened by such a capable woman."
"Hrmph. I'm not sure if that's an insult or a compliment." Margarete leaned back in the seat, swinging her crossed leg. "Your turn."
Keith smiled sheepishly. "To be honest, I'm just waiting for the woman who interests me enough to consider a lifetime spent with her who's interested in me as well."
Margarete arched an eyebrow. "You're waiting for a woman to be interested in you? Keith, women fawn over you."
"Not the one I'm interested in, though." He looked away from her as the door opened and the conductor leaned in.
"Tickets, please." The man took the ticket that Keith produced, then looked expectantly to Margarete, who was staring intently at her companion. "Ticket?"
"Gertrude, darling," Keith switched easily to German, "the conductor needs your ticket."
Margarete shook herself and drew it out of her pocket, holding it up for the conductor to take. "Terribly sorry."
"Not a problem.." The conductor glanced at the ticket as he punched it. "..Frau Strauss. You are going to Vienna?"
Margarete smiled. "Yes, taking advantage of my husband's furlough."
The conductor gave Keith a respectful nod. "Enjoy your trip. Sorry to have disturbed you."
"Quite alright." Keith took back the tickets.
The conductor smiled and stepped back out. "Oh, one more thing."
Keith's heart skipped a beat, but he kept his expression placid. "Yes?"
"Do be careful. There are rumors that people have been disappearing in Vienna. Officers in particular."
Keith nodded. "Thank you. I will be cautious."
The door closed and Keith and Margarete exchanged solemn glances.