1II

VIENNA (HOFBURG, 1921 PALACE) OCTOBER 15th, 1921

"Keep your tip up, Alek."

Volger's stern voice echoed through the salle, loud and commanding as always. To him, being occupied with an empire was no reason to fall behind in fencing.

"Alek! We drop practice for two weeks, and you fall this behind in the sabre? Tomorrow, we bring out the foil!"

It was all play and banter, though. Count Volger understood just how much responsibility 'please-continue-to-call-me-Alek' was under. The fencing classes gave the boy a chance to ignore reality and pretend he was, once again, the student and not the master. Outside of the salle, Alek was Volger's complete superior and deserving of Volger's unquestioning obedience. Inside the salle, he had even begun to land a few hits on his teacher, but Volger wouldn't admit to it beyond a pleased nod.

But today, Alek was distracted. His parries and blocks were sloppy, and he never followed them with lunges. He was entirely on the defensive, and not even trying. Volger simply couldn't allow this. The next loose block was followed by a firm flip from Volger's sabre. As Alek adjusted his wrist to block yet another lunge, Volger forced him back and put force into knocking the side of his sword into Alek's. It would have been illegal in a match, and it was unthinkable for one of the great Austrian fencing masters to even preform a move like this, but it had the desired effect on the boy, causing him to drop his sword and fall backward.

A look of pure shock came over the boy's face, followed by a deep blush. Volger said nothing, simply went over to the fallen sabre, picked it up, and offered Alek a hand. Alek didn't meet his eyes, but did accept the help, brushing himself off before taking the sword back. Turning his back, Volger walked back over to his end of the mat. He assumed the starting pose, and waited for Alek to do the same. Volger gave the salute, which Alek quickly returned, eyes still on the ground.

"Begin."

Volger's voice rang out clearly, and the match began. Alek was faster and actually thinking this time, he noted with approval. The bout was fierce, each man scoring at least two touches. Volger ended it by stepping off the mat twenty minutes in. The boy had given him quite a workout.

As he began to remove the protective gear, Volger realized he hadn't heard Alek's footsteps. Glancing up, he noticed Alek was still on the mat, helmet off, just staring at the ground.

"Alek."

Volger wasn't one to ask after feelings and such things. He could still recognize when another man was struggling with a decision, and knowing that, could decide how to react to it. With the recent change in policy, a decent amount of stress should have been lifted off his shoulders, yet the boy still seemed bogged down.

"I have requested that a British ... doctor visit. Our foreign policy is still shaky, and if we can offer a peaceful exchange of ideas, the next few years should be easier to endear us with the British citizens. I have made a similar offer to Russia..."

Volger nodded, following the boy's point quite easily.

"The event I have tried to-" Alek paused, looked down at his sword hand, looked at Volger, and smiled sadly. The tension on his face vanished. "It's such a little matter, and then such a large one."

Volger nodded, watching as Alek replaced his gear on the shelves and benches in the room.

"There's no point in avoiding it, really," he continues, taking a foil from the shelves and flexing it to test the curve. "It was fairly inevitable."

With that, it's clear to Volger that he had concluded with his musings, and that he expects no more comments.

"I will see you at dinner." And there, Volger will sit at Alek's right, as always. The boy walks out of the large doors at the end of the room, guards saluting him as he goes. The emperor gives each of them a nod as he heads back to his wing for a bath and then the next round of meetings.

How can his subjects not love him? Volger wonders. He treats each man as an equal, and every woman as a lady. Alek, still a child, rising to the occasion of being a father to an entire country.

Count Volger goes through the rest of the day without much incident. There are papers to be filed, appointments to keep, and a few more fencing lessons with the children of various nobles. Dinner wasn'the event it tends to be on days where diplomats and dignitaries visit. A simple affair, with small talk, with Alek asking after the families of those with him. Plans for a new Stormwalker and a sturdy machine based on rolling feet are mentioned. Nothing out of the ordinary, in other words.

It's only after dinner that Volger bothers to enquire about the British boffin's visit. It takes a few moments for the paperwork to be found. It looks as if the Zoological Society has offered up a candidate, and the Foreign Ministry has approved the choice. One Dr. Nora Barlow, and her assistant, a Dr. Dylan Sharp. Volger can't help but chuckle at the choice, doubting the randomness of this arrangement. Volger pauses a moment to wonder if Alek's been notified at the choice, and assumed it must be so. Even if that's not the case, it really won't hurt him to be surprised at seeing his old 'ally'.

LONDON, ENGLAND. (DR. NORA DARWIN BARLOW'S TOWNHOUSE.)

What does one pack when going on a barking 'diplomatic mission' to your ex-best-friend/ally's barking empire?

Deryn had been through her closet about eight times by now, sorting through all of her clothes, picking this and that before throwing it back on the floor. Bovril delighted in the mess, burrowing through the piles of dress shirts, suspenders, and trousers.

Deryn frowned. She had told Barlow that she was done with 'diplomatic missions', seeing how the last one had gone. Yet the boffin had insisted. As Deryn refolded a dress shirt, she wondered what could have made the boffin so touchy as of late. Let's see, had a fabrication died before it was scheduled to? Tazza was getting older, that could be it. But Barlow could always fabricate another thylacine before Tazza died, get it accustomed to her life, make Deryn walk it at all hours. She glanced at the calender over her bed, giving it a quick glance-over. October, October- it was the fifteenth today, right?

Oh. That was it.

It must have been around eight years ago. It had happened before Deryn had met her, but Dr. Barlow's husband had died sometime around the middle of October 1913. They hadn't had any children, nor had they been married very long, but Dr. Barlow was always a bit off around this time every year, a little weepy (in private) and unable to get any work done.

And here they were sending her off to Austria-Hungary.

Deryn slammed the lid of her suitcase down, now stuffed to the brim with clothing and papers. Barking dummk- idiots, the lot of them!

There was a knock on the door.

"Dylan?" It was Barlow, of course, and Deryn jumped over a few mounds of clothes and a suspender-wearing Bovril to unlock the door.

"Coming!" called Bovril, in perfect imitation of Deryn, who promptly shot it a glare, sticking her tongue out. Bovril just giggled.

Deryn pulled the door open, looking at Barlow who stood with her hands on her hips. "Aye?"

Dr. Barlow gave the room a good long look, and gathered her skirts to step over the mess. She sat on the bed, legs crossed. Deryn closed the door, sticking her hands in her back pockets as she picked her way over towards Barlow.

"It seems, Deryn, that we need to discuss some things before we leave tomorrow."

Deryn braced herself for 'the' talk again. They had spoke about the events following the almost-firing of Goliath just twice, the first time a month after Deryn had begun to work for Barlow, the second after he had been crowned (and they hadn't been invited, of course. Deryn had seen it on a newsreel in a theater, nearly two months later, for fuck's sake), and now it seemed, a third time, before she saw him for the first time in six years.

"They will be going through our luggage. You will not be able to bring the pills for your monthlies, nor will you be able to bring more binding supplies than you can keep on your person, plus a small amount in my purse, of course. The reason for the binding is obvious. The pills would be considered illegal in Austria-Hungary if seized, due to their ... pregnancy prevention. "

Oh. That had been... unexpected. It seemed they wouldn't be discussing it again. That was fine with Deryn.

Dr. Barlow stood to leave, dusting off her skirts.

"Our ride leaves at 0900 tomorrow. Be ready a half-hour before then."

With a final look around the room, and a glance to the dressed loris, she dusted off her skirts, stood, and departed.

Once the door was closed again, Deryn sighed and fell back on the bed, head flopping on the pillows.

It was downright unhealthy for someone to have to go through all of this.