1918

Prague

...

"Beg your pardon, your majesty, but you have a telegram."

Alek looked up from his coffee and newspaper to greet the man at his office door. The servant looked terribly disgruntled probably because he was closely followed by Count Volger who was glaring at him evilly.

"Thank you, Brunhilde." Alek praised the young servant. "If you'd be so kind to leave it with me it'd be much appreciated."

The man dropped the formal scrap of paper and bolted out of the office as soon as he could. Alek frowned as he left.

"Why do you have to be so cruel to the new staff?" Alek questioned his old fencing instructor. "That poor boy has only been here a week and you follow him around everywhere and comment on everything he does."

"He's no boy." Volger sniffed. "That louse has almost five years on you. When I was his age I could command a three hundred man cavalry let alone deliver a telegram."

"He's from…."

"I know where he's from, sire. That's why I have to keep tabs on him so closely."

Alek sighed. Last week he had hired twenty men from the inner city as personal servants in his household. Brunhilde was the youngest and the others ranged all the way into their sixties. It had been one of his many attempts to bring employment to the fast growing lower class of Prague. All of the men had been miners or factory workers before Alek had met them. With the industry crashing thousands of people were unable to find work in the city. Even so, it had been excruciatingly difficult to employ servants at his palace; a tender subject that Volger seemed ever so strongly to bring up.

"He and his kind don't deserve to correspond with you." The wildcount continued. "And if you were looking closer you could see that they know this as well as I do. They are not appreciating your handouts and I for one cannot blame them."

"They need the money! Even you cannot deny that."

"Money is one thing but honor is another. My family has been serving the Empire since….."

"….since the middle ages, I know Volger. But not every servant has to come from a lineage such as yours. I'm not taking away your position so I can replace it with Brunhilde's. You are still here, are you not? Adding more servants isn't going to diminish your honor."

Volger snorted. "Adding twenty servants isn't going to feed the rest of the starving population."

Even for Volger that had been too brash of a statement. Alek had, of course, tried to employ more than twenty men but with the little love his people had for their royalty, it had been horribly difficult just to get that many.

"That's enough out of you! Get out of my sight! I have a telegram I need to read." He snapped.

But Volger wasn't done. "Read the newspaper more carefully before you read your telegram, sire. The people may never appreciate their emperors no matter how many jobs you give them."

Alek would have shouted at him more but Volger was gone before he had a chance. As always the newspapers had been grim. But the headlines today were especially terrifying.

RUSSIAN EMPEROR SLAUGHTERED IN COLD BLOOD! ENTIRE FAMILY MASSACRED!

Alek threw the paper across the room. The rebellion in Russia was a little too close to his own family history for comfort.

A tiny squeak emerged from where he had tossed the paper. Alek noticed that in his frustration he had ruffled up a mound of pillows and furs with his throw. Out of the plush pile a chubby loris escaped the mess and jumped onto Alek's desk to sniff his now room temperature cup of coffee.

"Telegram." The loris chirped.

Alek gave Bovril a tiny grin and finally was able to focus on the telegram.

Aleksander –stop-

I'm happy to report that the fab has been completed –stop-

Why haven't you picked Sharp for copilot –stop-

He is my best assistant-stop-

Please visit soon –stop-

Dr. Nora Darwin Barlow-stop-

Alek read the note at least twice more.

Sharp? He thought in confusion. Dylan is Dr. Barlow's assistant!?

That was more than surprising, it was astonishing. He hadn't heard from Dylan since the end of the war. His best friend had sworn that they would keep in touch but after a few detailed letters the boy had randomly stopped writing. At first Alek had thought it was a mistake but after several weeks of writing and not getting a response he had begun to worry. Dylan's last letter had included a photograph of the young soldier in an elegant airman's uniform being fitted with a brand new shiny medal and pilot's cap. Alek remembered the picture clearly as well as the letter that came with it.

Blisters, Alek you should have been there today! It was all pompous and aristocratic like one of your royal balls or something! I passed my pilot's test with ease and now they've decorated me as one of their commanding pilots for His Majesty's Airforce! Barking Spiders I think this is the best day of my life! Don't be upset if you don't get any letters for awhile! Your airman will be taking to the skies so we can finally put an end to this bumrag of a war. Hope I hear from you soon!

Dylan's scratchy handwriting as well as the photograph were now buried somewhere deep in Alek's dresser drawers. He had long come to the conclusion that the boy had perished in one of the last air fights of the war. There had been no other explanation as to why Dylan would have stopped writing to him. That and Alek had never been able to find the young pilot's name in any of the military directories he had acquired from the Darwinists. He had spent hours searching for Dylan, even in the lists of young Darwinist soldiers who had not made it home after the war. Yet there had never been any way to find his old friend. In mourning Alek had hidden Dylan's letters and photos so he no longer had to remember his good friend he had met on the Leviathan.

Yet here on plain paper was proof that his old friend was still alive. And of all places the boy had taken residence with Dr. Barlow and her Zoological Society.

Had Dylan been helping build the fabrication he had required of Dr. Barlow? Surely that couldn't be possible. Otherwise Alek would have heard something from Dylan. This fabrication was not like other godless creatures that the Darwinists were breeding in herds. This was the fabrication that would save his starving people and possibly his crown.

After the Darwinists had won the war, Britain and America had become the leaders of industry and development. Marvelous beasties were springing up out of practically nothing and millions of people were profiting from their growth.

The Clanker Nations were not nearly as lucky. The war had used up all of their resources and now the mines and factories were empty, unable to employ the millions of laborers that had been so prosperous before the war had started. Walkers and engines can't be created if you don't have the coal and steel to make them.

On top of that, the Treaty of Versailles had taken away any last amount of wealth that his empire had. Furious that the Clankers had attacked, the Darwinist Nations had enforced horrible fines and expenses that needed to be paid in order to supplement the millions of young men that had been lost. Plus, they could no longer build their militaries in fear that the Clankers would attack again.

Alek had been bitter about it but not nearly as upset as some of his cohorts. As angry as he was with the Darwinists and their growing success, he wasn't like Volger and some of his fellow Austrians who demanded that their only option was to join the Clanker Nations again to start another war. No matter how poor his people had become Alek could never find the inspiration to start another gruesome world war. Instead he had plotted to ask the Darwinists for help. His correspondences with Dr. Barlow had been just that.

Alek scratched Bovril behind the ears.

"What would you say about seeing Dylan again, Bovril?"

"MR. SHARP!" Bovril exclaimed with delight.

Alek gave the biggest smile he had been able to muster in weeks.

"I suppose I should tell Brunhilde to pack up our things. Can't keep Dr. Barlow waiting." He said.