A Queen Among Crows: Book One of Empire's End Read online

  "I still cannot believe you simply stole some poor man's sports car!" I gripped the door for dear life. I may have dented it a bit.

  "Nonsense; I am a Knight of the Empire; I commandeered it for legitimate Imperial Business." Dame Julie grinned as she shifted gears again and started to drive faster.

  "And then you bent his tire iron into a pretzel." Was she stronger than me? She was far faster, certainly. I should try making tire iron pretzels later and see what happens.

  "So, he needed a reminder of his patriotic duty. I trust you have done far worse in the name of your King and Empire."

  "Speaker and Country, well, yes. But the tree, turn left, turn LEFT." I closed my eyes in terror.

  "I saw it. I have been driving since long before the invention of the motor car, you know."

  The car cannon balled its way around the corner, leaving only two wheels on the ground, and what was left of the color in my hair behind it. I felt a moment of sympathy for those little metal balls in the Coney Island games of chance, before realizing they, at least, had some hope of a quick end to appease their torment.

  "I thought immortals grew more conservative as they aged." I hinted.

  "Some do," Dame d'Aubigny replied "But do ask yourself, what are you selling your services and your soul for? Is it for vanity? Is it for health? Is it for fear of death? Why, the Empress Elizabeth has not left her palace in over a century. Can you imagine such a thing? To see the same people, eat the same food, walk past the very same walls, no matter how gilded, for a century? For her, it is an amber lined womb; for me, it would be hell itself. Do not ask for eternal life, as there is no such thing; Eternal youth, however, the Empire can grant; for the right price, of course."

  She laughed. "Have you heard of the Doctor Verne? He thinks that it is possible to build a ship that will fly to the moon! To the moon! And to think I have lived to see such things."

  I wiggled in my seat, pushing against the wooden floor board for comfort. "The Han say they sent a man to the moon almost two hundred years ago."

  "Well, yes, but did he come back?"

  "Not in any form a person could recognize. He may have rained upon the plains, I suspect. I have to ask, on another issue, I hope it's not too outré...."

  She paused, slowing the motor car to bank under a low hanging tree branch, for which my fortitude was quite grateful. "Your question may be too outré? Ma Reine, I doubt anything you could ask I would consider Outré. I am quite wicked, as all the world knows. Plays have been written about me, and they left out all the salacious parts. When I fought my way into that nunnery in Belgium it had nothing to do with a sudden desire to confess my sins to the abbess, I promise you."

  "Well no, not a nunnery; At least I hope none of the women there were nuns. I could not help but notice as we drove from the city a parade of sorts, but composed of young women, all in their bathing attire! Most shocking, I must say. In this weather! To dress in so little! I could even see their ankles!"

  I was thrown forward as the motor car screamed to a stop, bitter smoke and choking dust flying all around us like some magician's theater trick. She turned her head and stared at me. Wiped the dust off her goggles with a man's red silk kerchief, and then stared again.

  "Oh my," She said "Their bare ankles. It is most shocking."

  "Yes, I know. And in this weather! “I was incensed.

  "Why, their feet might have gotten a chill."

  "You are not taking me quite seriously "I suspected.

  "I simply cannot wait until you see the Imperial Court," she foreboded.

  "Neither than can I. Is it true the Princess has the world's largest collection of object d'art? And should we be blocking the road like this?” I pointed back along the road where more traffic might come.

  "She has a legendary art collection, um yes. " She got the vehicle rolling in the proper style again. "To answer to your question, the ladies on parade are political protesters. They believe that by dressing in their bathing attire they shall attract more newspaper coverage to their cause. It seems to work; but I am uncertain if the extra attention advances their aims any. I did once suggest to one of their leaders that perhaps they should be even more daring and protest in the nude. Sadly, the world is not ready for such things yet. Perhaps in the future we shall see such actions."

  "Well I hope the world never declines to such degeneracy; although I am pleased to see the suffrage movement is alive and well, whatever their peculiar methods of advocacy may be. Has it taken any root in the Empire itself?"

  "The Empire," Dame Julie said "Is perhaps unique in such matters. It exists in strata; the common people, married to their land for generations, have reached a level of cultural conservatism that borders on the geological. The larger cities, exposed to vast wealth and the moral corruption that education brings, have become almost European; and the aristocracy, which rules all with military power holds on to their moral authority with a strict allegiance to the values of duty and religion, all of which requires them to see a woman's place as the mother of a large family and not much more. And yet, above them all, rules a great family of women for the last two hundred years and more. The more conservative religious types explain this by saying the Noble House are descended from angels, and thus, are not truly women at all."

  "I think I understand. It is quite the opposite from my native colonies, where those born gifted are seen as something less than Angelic. It was fortuitous that I had an athletic disposition and thus found gainful employment in the Military services; my other options in my youth were quite bleak. How do you suggest I comport myself then, in these strata? "

  The car rounded another bend and began to hit smoother roads. I could only hope this was a sign my vehicular torment would soon end, possibly in a fashion not involving external combustions.

  "Let me enlighten you with a small example. For several years now the House Minister for State Property and Foreign Affairs, Marshall Pyotr Arkadyevich Stolypin, whom you recently met, has been pushing for a reform of the land use rights, the obshchina. He has argued extensively that the common people be allowed to buy and sell their own lands, and be allowed to immigrate to the new lands now opening in the west and north. The university radical argue that this is unjust; rather, they believe the aristocrats should be abolished and the land given to the people in its entirety. Now the arguments of the aristocracy should be obvious; but please, do take a guess at what the stiffest opposition to the good minister's plan is."

  "The Military; which fears a rise in chaos if the common people are allowed to move about freely?" I hazarded.

  "Nyet." She laughed "It is from the common people themselves! They have been told by their priests for generations, you see, that as long as they worked their family land and paid their grain taxes they would be given grace in the heavens. But still, it is not a situation without all hope; of the more than fifty million of peasants some four or five million have already taken the chance of settling the new open lands. The young, of course, are leading the way; it is to youth we owe the promise of any progress in the world. And on that note, so apropos, do we come to the point of this. Past this bridge, I believe, we shall reach the end of the forest, and from there you may see what you have come to see."

  The bridge in question was red painted stone, fading and chipped but quite sound it seemed as we rattled across the slate paving. I craned my head, looking through the planks for some clue, and wished for a moment's privacy so as to send out my feathered kin; but it was not to be. Instead I must rely on my more human senses.

  My first impression as we headed down was of a blue expanse, clear water speckled by orange and yellow strokes of sun. My eye was drawn then to a beautiful white cathedral, placed like a queen in the center of a small town with a gray stone tower for her king and small white and rose houses for her court. A shadow enveloped the Cathedral for a moment; and I glanced upwards, wondering if some rain was to spoil our so far artistic day.

  I saw at first a thunder
cloud, vast and dark, her top rippled with lightning; before it became closer, and I realized the flares were from sunlight striking metal skin, and the sound was from great propellers that beat the lake below as if the bellows of an angry dragon. The air ship- and it could only be an airship; man had never made anything else so large- turned and approached the town with implacable power.

  With nothing to give her perspective, it was impossible to determine the true size. Not one but two massive airbags, each I thought perhaps the size of the Chicago Trade Tower, supporting in rigid tandem an armored gunship hanging between them like some flying catamaran. I was in awe, no, bitter jealousy. At that moment I knew what I wanted, and wept inside to know I should never have her.

  "Graf Zeppelin," Dame d'Aubigny said "designed her for the German court, so that they may explore and extend their reach into the great dark unknown that is inner Africa. Sadly, the German court lacked either will or funds to finish the project. And while the Princess can be accused of some sins, a lack of vision or funds is not among them."

  "What is her name?" A voice asked. My own, perhaps.

  "That was the matter of some diplomacy. The original German name was quite unsuitable; and a proper male Russian name met with some resistance. A more mythological name from their shared culture was chosen then."

  "She," Dame d'Aubigny continued ---"Is the Louhi."

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Bombing the show

  Interlude:

  "When the second Revolution began in 1857, great hope was put forward in the native strength and courage of the men, and how they might win fair justice from Imperial England through purity of purpose even though they were badly outnumbered and outgunned even from the first blow. The Empire had its machines of war; The Free Colonies had their heroes, their McClellan, their Lee, their Jackson; Titans and giants of an earlier age. The latter alone was said to be of such fortitude cannon shot would bounce right off of him.

  General Jackson was the first to fall, drowning in the mud and the gore of the Battle of The Pit, March 3rd, 1858. So many men died there no point was made in proper courtesy or burial; they simply shoveled the dirt onto the thousands of corpses below. The war would continue for Thirty-Two years, but all hope was long since decomposed."

  – A history of the Second Rebellion, Dr. Arthur T. Miller, University of New London

  The beastly automobile, having passed through the town much like a rampaging elephant through a garden maze, at last had the divine grace to stagger to a halt at the wooden docks by the lakeside. I would have liked to say I exited the infernal contraption with grace and expediency, but in truth my poor hams were too bruised and distorted by the trip to do more than lurch me erect in some semblance not quite callipygian.

  I glanced at my inquisitor, who looked back with a smile entirely too satisfied at my discomfort. In the event The Grand Duchess ever decided to put her own hammer to heresy it was patently clear whom would be her Torquemada; She would need no water boarding, rack, screws or iron maidens, only her own unique skills at driving this thrice cursed auto particular to tear forth confessions.

  One bronzed eyebrow quirked at me over eyes alizarin; "Come now, Ma Reine" She bowed, striking a pose of simple service "The trip was not that uncomfortable. Why, it was quite invigorating."

  In the town behind us, the clock tower rang thrice; the stage was set, time to raise the curtain.

  I ignored the good knight Dame Schadenfreude, and stretched with what strength I had left in me, before extending my arms in my best impression of a telegraph pole. I expected one heavy thump on my right arm, followed by two or three others on my left; and these I was blessed to receive; the Pteranodon on my left shoulder, however, was unexpected and caused an impromptu ballet with gravity, which I lost.

  On the positive side, I learned by direct observation that the brick roadways of the town were in fine condition. Why, even from less than an inch away I could barely see any cracks or loose dirt. Pawing for my fallen eye pieces with one hand, I turned my head to confront the unstoppable force now sitting on my back. "James," I growled "Go guard the trunk"

  "Long trip. Tired" He laughed back, before –ooof- thrusting himself back into the air for the short hop to the streamer trunk strapped to the back of the auto mobile. I considered remaining lying down on these very comfortable bricks for a few minutes, then realized the Dame was likely not the only insane driver in the town this day and quickly pushed myself vertical. Although one could have some small hope that perhaps the Russians, Germans, Prussians, Austrians and assorted Italians were not as mad as the French.

  Adjusting my spectacles, I could see I was in luck; of those in the brightly uniformed crowd who had noticed me, they were indeed some more civilized than the French. They were politely applauding my rhythmic dance performance. Perhaps the Grand Duchess would change her mind about an Agent Provocateur and instead hire me as a Vaudevillian? The animal act would be easy, and I can juggle knives; even poisoned ones.

  The chimes of cavalry boots on the paved stones behind me could only have been Dame d'Aubigny; a quick glance did indeed reveal that particular, one copper line arched in a slight moue of confusion, not believing I could be so clumsy but not understanding why I would wish to make such a fool of myself before my future employer. She hesitated one moment, before swooping operatically to lift me to me feet with as much ease as I might lift a small stray by the scruff.

  She doffed her hat again, before giving me a far too thorough sweeping of the dirt from my extremities, paying most serious attention to my hips, thighs, bottom of my skirt, and any other place I might be concealing a weapon. It seems that if I can play silly buggers, so can she; or perhaps, she merely wished met to construe she can play them even better. Pride, paranoia, or professionalism? Perhaps all three? On these questions, our future grace must pro-pend.

  More commotion broke these philosophical interrogations; from the crowd at the pier, a group of men marched towards us with some implacable intent. The lead man was a titan among weaklings, a very partisan of Slavic power, he simply walked unhurried through the crowd, and it parted around him, not as dogs’ part for their master but as waves part before a juggernaut of war. Behind him, some dozen officers of the empire marched, each a man of blood, power and wealth to dwarf the greatest colonialist; behind him, they were unnoticeable.

  Alessandro Flamma, the Italian rook, Captain of The Imperial Foreign Guard. The man who was once hit at close range in the chest by a cannon ball, and threw it back; they spoke of his height, his mass, the way his stride left cracked the stones beneath him.

  The newspapers never mentioned his soft smile.

  He nodded once to Dame d'Aubigny, which she returned; there was respect there, but also wariness. It seemed even walking castles feared leopardesses. His voice did not match his size, far too high pitched for such a behemoth of a man "Julie. This then is the Colonial Queen?"

  "Indeed, Alessandro. I conjure for you now, from the great untraveled verdant depths of the Western continent, a miracle of grace and form: Madame Eryma Soteira seduced here by vain promises of eternal youth. Ma Reine, may I make know to you my sometime student, Captain Alessandro Flamma? His first name is quite real; the latter, he picked out of some dusty and sepulcher history book." Dame d'Aubigny grinned at me.

  "I thank you, Dame, for that most piquant of introductions. An honor to meet you Captain; Is not your name that of a famous roman hero?" I asked.

  "Indeed" he replied "and it was not found in a book, but a graveyard near my childhood home. Albeit, a dusty and grim one. And as much as I would love to entertain you with some more banter with the Frenchwoman, I regret duty calls, and prince and peril await. "

  One hand rose glacially to gesture us ahead of him; this was a man who thought ahead of everything he did, in a precision born of fear of breaking fragile things unwontedly. You know, small intimate things, such as fine china, glassware, and Human spines. What must it be like, I wondered, to have that sort of str
ength?

  "Tell me," I asked as we walked "Have you ridden in that incredible airship?"

  "I regret I cannot," He said " the engineers fear it is not wise; while the ship can surely lift me, that much weight in one small spot would shift the balance every time I moved. Perhaps, In the future, some even mightier air craft shall be built, and I shall fly. Tell me, have you flown?"

  "In survey balloons, during the war, all too often. But nothing of the grandeur and power of that machine; I must confess myself quite enraptured." I said.

  'Why, Eryma, with all these legions of birds at your command, cannot they tow you into the sky like some modern-day Icarus?" Dame d'Aubigny teased.

  "I regret not; while an average bird can draw two or three kilos, and my largest up to ten; One could do it with about 30 birds comfortably, but there is not enough room on me for that many birds to grip and flex their wings. The solution, then, is to build some sort of harness, with ropes for them to grasp, but then you still have the question of launch and the weights of the ropes themselves."

  She stopped, and gave me that look again. "You have tried it."

  "But of course," I said "sadly, no natural rope is both light enough and strong enough to make the design in any way feasible. And I even removed most of clothes first, to cut down on the weight."

  I was rescued then from her next impropriety by the breaching of the crowd ahead of us, and the appearance of two men, perhaps the two most feared men in all the world: Karl Peter Ulrich, Grand Duke of Holstein, King of Finland, Prince of Sweden, ruler of Germany, France and Italy in all but name, Husband of Princess and Grand Duchess Catherine Sophia; and his chief right arm, Grand Duke Aleksandr Mikhailovich, commander of the Imperial Air Fleet. Grand Duke Karl was short and shallow face, looking unwell for an immortal, or as unwell as one who gets rejuvenation at whim or will can be. Grand Duke Aleksandr Mikhailovich was taller than average, handsome, with beard well-trimmed and uniform shoulders ramrod straight.