Gilgamesh Wulfenbach and the Men of Letters 12/18
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A/N: The next several chapters owe a good deal of inspiration to khilari and persephone_kore’s Agatha’s Bad Plan AU and baroque_mongoose’s Wooster stories, all of which I heartily recommend.
Chapter 12
Duke of Earl
“Why are you surprised?” Sam was saying as Gil sluggishly woke the next morning. “She’s your car. It’s only natural she’d share at least some of your personality.”
“Yeah, but parking outside the door?” Dean objected.
“Protecting us. That’s why you took the couch, wasn’t it? You thought if anybody got in-”
“Shut up, Sam.”
“I’m just saying. You’re a guardian, a protector. And so is Baby.”
Gil peeled his eyes open and blinked a few times, then glanced around with a frown. Where... oh, right, he was in the Winchesters’ suite. And there was... something on his chest.
Then it shifted, let out a wide, squeaky yawn, and chirruped at him. Wasp eater. Right. But how did it... oh, never mind.
“Time’s it?” he asked blearily.
“Too damn early,” Dean replied and brought him some coffee. “Especially to be dealin’ with a car that thinks she’s a damn watchdog. C’mere, Loki.”
The wasp eater chuckled and ran away from Dean, but that did at least get it off Gil’s chest so he could sit up. Dean grumbled something under his breath that sounded like something to do with angels.
Gil frowned. “You named it?”
“Temporarily, anyway,” Sam said. “We’ve ordered breakfast, but do you need us to get anything out of your room?”
Gil took a drink of coffee, which helped, and shook his head. “No, thanks. I’ll send a Lackya or someone.”
Breakfast was mainly eggs and bacon, which Dean ate quickly before going in to shower and dress. However, he did pause long enough to get Gil’s opinion of which suit to wear to the coronation, since Tarvek hadn’t ordered anything formal for them.
“Hm,” said Gil. “Well, I’m not sure he should have, really, certainly no more than black tie. Being Americans, of course, you can’t be expected to know the regulations for court dress, and we can honestly say that you didn’t come here expecting to be invited to a coronation. And being ostensibly in the service of the Lady Heterodyne, you would naturally follow her lead, and Heterodynes in general do as they please and don’t care what anyone else thinks. Father was like that, too, in some ways, but he got away with it because of who he was. I’m not Father; I outrank him, evidently; and he insisted that I actually have court dress, so I’m pretty well out of excuses for not wearing it.”
Dean frowned. “They make you wear a skirt for that?”
“Worse. Knee breeches.”
Sam cleared his throat in surprise. “Ignorant foreigner works for me.”
“Hell, yeah,” Dean agreed.
They did each have a black suit, white waistcoat, and white shirt, however, which would certainly do well enough for Sturmhalten’s court; and at Sam’s suggestion, Gil decided to send to the cordwainer for shoulder holsters for their guns.
“I had one in ’44,” Dean groused as he retrieved his suit from the closet. “Bet it’s at home, though.”
“The new ones shouldn’t take long to make,” Gil replied. “The cordwainer’s clanks do good work, and they’re fast.”
Dean made a non-committal noise and disappeared into the bathroom.
“What about your hatmaker?” Sam asked. “A cowboy hat is the only kind Dean will agree to wear that’s also period correct. Would we have time to get some white hats, kind of like Dean’s?”
“Probably, if we send Dean’s as a prototype for the shape. Just plain white with a plain band?”
“Yeah, felt or straw. I’m sure black’s more formal, but with that type of hat, a black hat means you’re a bad guy.”
“That should be no problem, I think.”
“Awesome, thanks. Although I think I’d rather have a brim that looks more like this.” Sam found a notepad and sketched a hat with a brim that curved up at the sides a bit more and a bit closer to the crown. “That’s more of a classic Stetson; Dean’s, for some reason, looks Australian to me. But the crown’s more or less the same shape.”
Gil nodded. “What else will you need? Ties, cufflinks....”
Sam blew the air out of his cheeks. “I dunno. We’ve probably got some spare ties in the car somewhere, but they’re not... I mean, they’re business ties, not the sort you wear to a coronation. And Dean doesn’t like cufflinks and stuff like that. I don’t know if he’d wear ’em even if you loaned us any.”
“Hm.” Gil got up to examine Sam’s white shirt. “No, these don’t require cufflinks, so let’s not annoy Dean further by suggesting he wear them.”
Sam huffed in amusement. “Dean’s just not a morning person. He’ll get over it.”
“As for ties, I’ve got a couple of ascots that you can borrow. I don’t wear them much.”
“Thanks.”
The Lackya returned at that point with Gil’s court dress and all the trimmings appropriate for a coronation, as well as the lightning stick Gil had rebuilt the previous morning, so Gil sent him on to the cordwainer and the hatter, with further instructions to fetch Gil’s white ascots. Dean finished in the bathroom a few minutes later, so Sam went in to take his shower while Gil finished the last of his eggs and had a second cup of coffee. Gil also brought Dean up to speed on their latest requisitions.
Dean nodded approval at the description of the hats but frowned a little at the mention of ascots. “Not sure that’s gonna go well with a Western suit,” he noted. “Appreciate the offer, don’t get me wrong. But... I dunno, maybe we oughta go with something else.”
“Well, for everyday wear, most gentlemen here wear a brooch at the throat with either the badge of their house or that of the house they serve. I could get you a Heterodyne pin, or....”
Dean’s eyes narrowed as he considered. “No, I’ve got a better idea. Here’s what I need.” He grabbed the notepad and scribbled down a short list of components and a sketch of something. “Hey, Sam? You want a bolo tie?”
“Nah, I’ll just borrow one of Gil’s ascots,” Sam called back.
“All right, suit yourself.” Dean jotted down a couple more notes and poured himself another cup of coffee. “Dunno how we’re gonna pay you back for all this,” he confessed to Gil more quietly.
Gil shook his head. “Dean, don’t even think about it. The help you and Sam have already given Agatha, Tarvek, and me is invaluable. I just wish there were more I could do to repay you.”
Visibly embarrassed, Dean ducked his head and rubbed the back of his neck. “Doesn’t feel like we’ve done a whole lot.”
“You killed the battering ram. You exorcised Agatha and proved it to Boris. You stopped Anevka. You gave us the key to breaking Lucrezia’s hold on the Sturmhalteners and a way to kill the slime monsters. You helped us capture Zola, and you interrogated her. To say nothing of Gadreel-sweet lightning, I don’t even want to think of the state I’d be in if Father had managed to lock me up and then set off that stasis bomb with Agatha still in Mechanicsburg.”
“You need to marry that girl, dude.”
“I intend to. But I’ve got to outmaneuver Tarvek before I can. That’s the hell of the politics of all this.”
Dean gave him a quizzical look, but Sam came out of the bathroom just then, which meant it was Gil’s turn to shower. He did so, but cleaning up was the easy part. Getting into his court dress was a somewhat fiddly operation, and he found himself heartily wishing Wooster were there. But he wasn’t, and the Winchesters wouldn’t have known where everything went, so dressing himself was the fastest and easiest option.
When at last Gil emerged from the bathroom, the Winchesters were gone, and so were the remains of breakfast. Dean had left a note on the table, however: Gone to meet Agatha’s blimp. Bay 15.
Blimp. That was a new word. Gil preferred airship, honestly. Be that as it may, Agatha had already arrived, so Gil needed to hurry. He slid into his shoes, unlocked the jewel case that held the coronet he’d never worn-a prince’s coronet; confound it, Father, you could have told me-and put it on, and locked up before going to Bay 15. The Winchesters were outside in the hall, holding their white hats and talking with....
“Sweet lightning,” he breathed before calling, “Wooster!”
“Er,” said Wooster, looking unsure whether he ought to bolt as Gil jogged toward the little group. “Good morning, Herr Baron.”
“What on earth are you doing here? I thought you’d be back in England by now, even without Agatha.”
“I’ve been reassigned to Mechanicsburg, milord.”
“Good thing, too,” Sam said. “You know how we lost all our papers? Cas helped him get us new ones.”
“And he got us these, too,” Dean added with a grin, putting a thumb behind his lapel to show off the badge that matched the design of the centerpiece of his unusual tie. The tie itself was a narrow cord of braided white leather with long silver aglets, and it was held together at the collar by a silver disc engraved with a unicursal hexagram. The badge was the same shape, but cut out rather than engraved. “Dude, we look like Texas Rangers!”
Sam huffed in amusement, and Gil noted that his ascot pin also bore the unicursal hexagram. “I don’t think Henry would like that.”
“Yeah, well, he ain’t here, Sam. We’re the Men of Letters now.”
Wooster frowned. “Who’s....”
“Their paternal grandfather,” Gil explained, having heard the story the day before. “Due to time travel, they hadn’t met him until just a few months ago-and he was younger than they.”
“Ah.” Wooster still looked nervous.
“Red fire, man, you did what I asked. You kept Agatha safe, even if she did insist on going to Mechanicsburg rather than England. Why are you-” And then Gil remembered. “Oh. I screamed at you, didn’t I?”
“Well, yes, you did, rather,” Wooster replied quietly.
Gil sighed heavily. “I wasn’t sure I could trust you or your superiors enough-and you know I was in something of a panic at the time. But I don’t suppose that’s any excuse, really. I’m sorry, Wooster.”
And Wooster finally relaxed somewhat. “For what it’s worth, sir, I didn’t report your remarks to my superiors.”
“Well, considering that Agatha won’t be going to England as anything but the duly acknowledged Heterodyne now, I don’t suppose I’ll have any reason to carry out those threats, which is probably a better thing for me than it is for Albia. So thank you for that.”
“I wouldn’t have wanted anything to happen to her, either, sir. But you were a bit... drastic.”
Gil chuckled. “Classic British understatement there, Wooster. I’ve missed you.”
Wooster smiled and straightened Gil’s jabot for him. Then he noticed the coronet. “I say-”
“Zeetha’s my sister,” Gil explained.
Wooster blinked. “Her Highness hadn’t confessed that aloud until yesterday!”
“The Winchesters and I only figured it out yesterday ourselves. But apparently Father had this made for me despite not trusting anyone but Boris with the information.”
“Great Scott. Well, if it makes you feel any better, it sounded like pure deduction on Princess Zeetha’s part, too.”
“Considering Father thought she’d been sent to kill me, that actually doesn’t surprise me.” Gil suddenly realized that Wooster wasn’t in formal dress, either. “Wait, aren’t you staying?”
“Er, well, I hadn’t planned on it, sir,” Wooster replied, running a hand through his hair.
“Oh, no, no, please do. If anyone asks, you’re my guest. I insist.”
Wooster smiled. “All right, then. Thank you, sir. I should probably stay with Lady Heterodyne’s party, though.”
“Yeah, so should we,” said Sam.
Gil frowned. “Speaking of Agatha, where is she?”
“Talking to Dolokhov last I saw her, sir,” Wooster reported, looking over his shoulder toward the hangar bay. “Discussing funeral arrangements, I believe. And speaking of which,” he added, turning to look Gil in the eye again, “I’m very sorry for your loss, Master Gil. I know the two of you had your problems, and your father wasn’t on the best terms with England, but he truly was a great man.”
Gil swallowed hard and nodded. “Thank you.”
Suddenly he heard a familiar gasp from the bay door. “Gil!”
He turned, and for one awestruck moment, he thought Agatha was wearing a wedding dress complete with veil. But then she moved, and the spell... wasn’t broken, exactly, but at least he could see more clearly. Her dress, even lovelier than the most gorgeous work of the House of Worth, was ivory and embroidered with golden gears and trilobites, and her hair was caught up in a net of pearls that couldn’t quite restrain her incorrigible cowlick. Her glasses were sparkling. And she was beaming. He could barely breathe.
“You look wonderful!” she cried, hugging him.
“You look radiant,” he replied and kissed her. “And I’m glad I’ve got my sword and lightning stick, although I probably shouldn’t kill Tarvek on his coronation day.”
“Oh, stop,” she laughed and backed away. “And don’t you two look dashing!” she added to the Winchesters.
Dean blushed a little and ducked his head with a boyish grin, but Sam answered, “Thank you, Your Ladyship.”
“Oh, just Agatha, please. I gather you’re supposed to be my distant cousins anyway.”
“Master Castiel’s idea,” Wooster explained quietly. “We consulted Castle Heterodyne to find the right link, but it seems the Ht’rok-din’s second son went away with a Viking band and never returned. As there are no records of him after that, it was simple enough to invent a wife for him in Winchester and number him among the dead at Hastings, and as the Heterodynes were already becoming the terror of Europa, that branch of the family took the name ‘Winchester’ instead.”
Dean’s eyebrows went up. “What, so we’re, like, your fifteenth cousins or something?”
“Something like that,” Agatha chuckled. “The castle didn’t have any record of my ancestors attempting to cross over into your universe, so it isn’t likely to be true. But it does make for a good cover story.”
“Well, then, Cousin Agatha,” Sam said with a smile and a slight bow, “you look lovely.”
“Thank you, Sam.” Then she looked at Dean expectantly.
“I’m not sayin’ anything in front of your boyfriend,” Dean deadpanned.
Everyone laughed at that.
“There you are!” Violetta called and came charging out of the hangar bay in a dress the same shade of purple as her usual Smoke Knight uniform. “I’m amazed you haven’t dragged that train through a dozen puddles of oil by now.”
“Well, it’s hardly my fault you and Zeetha were busy talking with Higgs, is it?” Agatha returned. “Speaking of which, Gil-”
“Yes, he may escort Zeetha,” Gil replied before she could finish the question. “And I’ll escort you. Boris is coming, too, and he can escort Violetta if you’d like. But what about Maxim and Dimo?”
“Advance security,” Wooster replied. “Since the Jägers are already in Sturmhalten, we sent them ahead to check the cathedral and send word to Oggie to join them. We’ve sent Krosp with them as well. But if I may say so, Master Gil, I’m surprised you’re not bringing a larger contingent.”
“Aren’t I?” Gil asked mildly, putting an arm around Agatha’s shoulders.
Agatha frowned. “Now wait a minute-”
“You’re nobody’s puppet,” Gil interrupted. “You beat my father handily. But I did publicly declare that you are under my protection, and we still need to sort out all the limits of Mechanicsburg’s autonomy and trade and so forth. So since you happen to be my guest this morning, we’ll go together.”
Agatha huffed. “All right, but we get announced separately.”
“Deal.”
“And we discuss terms this afternoon.”
“Boris has a draft treaty ready for us to look over. But I don’t expect you to sign it until you’ve taken it back to discuss with at least Mamma Gkika.”
Agatha narrowed her eyes. “Why Mamma Gkika?”
“She’s a general and a shrewd businesswoman, and I trust her to have your best interests at heart. And no, it will not include a provision requiring you to marry me. I don’t want Punch to hit me again,” Gil added wryly, letting her go and putting a hand to his head in remembered pain.
Agatha huffed and returned the wry smile. “I’m sorry, Gil. I do want to trust you. I just... didn’t know how it would look.”
“I understand, believe me. But like I said, the world needs to know that I’m on your side. Even after the siege, there will still be powers that want to control you. They just won’t use force next time if they’re smart.” Gil sighed. “Besides, most of the Diplomatic Corps is out delivering announcements and trying to put out fires, and there’s no way I’m bringing Dupree to this affair.”
Sam and Wooster heaved identical sighs of relief.
Dean frowned. “Wait, who’s....”
“The pirate queen,” Sam answered.
“Oh. Yeah. Bad idea.”
Boris finally emerged from the hanger bay, running one hand through his hair while checking his watch with another. “Ah, there you are, Your Highness!” he called when he spotted Gil. “We’re ready for departure in two minutes.”
Gil nodded and offered Agatha his arm, and she took it. But in the end it was Dean who grabbed the train of Agatha’s dress to keep it out of harm’s way and Sam who gallantly escorted Violetta to the airship, where Zeetha and Higgs were waiting. Higgs was in high uniform, and Zeetha... well, clearly, Zeetha had gotten Mamma Gkika’s fashion advice for what Europans considered court dress and gone for some sort of compromise between Jägerdame and Skifandrian. Fortunately, she also had a cloak.
“Heyyyy,” Zeetha called when she saw Gil. “Don’t you look sharp!”
“Erm,” said Boris, who apparently hadn’t noticed Zeetha before and was trying not to be scandalized. “I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure-”
“Ah, allow me,” Gil interrupted. “Boris, this is my sister Zeetha, Royal Princess Guardian of Skifander. Zeetha, my chief administrator, Boris Dolokhov.”
The brief moment in which Boris looked ready to faint was priceless.
And so was the fact that Zeetha immediately came over to hug Gil. “Figured it out, huh?” she breathed in his ear.
“Yeah,” he whispered back. “And I’m sorry about the Wacky Weave thing.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’m glad I found you, brother. And I’m not gonna kill you-unless you hurt Agatha, of course.”
“I know. And I won’t.”
Boris had recovered his composure by the time Zeetha pounded Gil’s back and let go. “I do see the resemblance now. My apologies, Princess Zeetha.”
“It’s all right,” Zeetha told him with a disconcerting grin. “The baron was terrible about keeping secrets. How were you to know his wife was queen of the jungle?”
Boris harrumphed, and it was all Gil could do to keep from laughing. “If Your Highnesses are ready....”
“Let’s go,” said Agatha. “We really shouldn’t keep Tarvek waiting.”
So they trooped onto the airship, with Zeetha trading barely appropriate jibes with Dean and Boris trying valiantly not to hyperventilate. But at least she proved enough of a distraction that Boris didn’t notice Wooster trying to blend in with the paneling.
“I can tell her to stop,” Agatha murmured to Gil, “but I’m not sure how much good it will do.”
Gil chuckled. “No, let her wind him up. It serves him right for keeping secrets.”
The coronation itself, quite frankly, was boring. Given the givens, the crowd was fairly small, mostly nobles from neighboring fiefs and however many of the Knights of Jove were willing to at least look like they supported Tarvek’s claim. Tarvek had somehow managed to run down a bishop, though, so Gadreel was free to join the Heterodyne-Wulfenbach party along with Gen. Goomblast and Gen. Khrizhan. Gadreel ended up between the Jägers and Wooster, who handed him something that Gil assumed must be identity papers and maybe a Men of Letters badge, but none of them really had time to talk. Maxim, Oggie, and Dimo were seated directly behind Gil and Agatha and kept up a sotto voce running commentary on everyone’s hats until time for the ceremony to start, which was rather entertaining. But for the most part, it was the usual sort of ceremony, if a bit pared down to comport with the wartime setting, with the usual sorts of choral numbers and Latin prayers and investitures and whatnot...
... right up to the point where Tarvek, without warning, called Gil and Agatha up to stand witness, then put his right hand on the holiest relic present-the sword of St. Glamdring-and repeated the oath he’d sworn in Mulverschtag the day before. Gasps went up all over the cathedral, probably from dignitaries who hadn’t seen his speech in Mulverschtag. Gil wasn’t sure whether such a move was commendable or reckless in the extreme, but either way, the oath was doubly binding now. And Tarvek was probably already gearing up for the long talk, or rather screaming match, with the Knights of Jove that he’d just made inevitable. Gil didn’t envy him that... but at the same time, it might be better that he force the confrontation now rather than trusting to his usual underhanded methods, which were part of the reason they were in this mess to begin with.
In any case, Gil managed to come up with a more official sounding statement of acceptance than he’d rattled off on the spur of the moment in Mulverschtag, although he stopped short of making any kind of vow of his own. Then he turned to Agatha, who suddenly looked rather pale but still determined and regal.
“I have heard it said,” Agatha began slowly, “that Euphrosynia Heterodyne betrayed the House of Valois and destroyed the peace of Europa. What the truth might be, I do not know. I do know that Lucrezia Mongfish betrayed the House of Heterodyne and devastated Europa on a scale Euphrosynia could never have dreamed. She caused my brother’s death and my father’s disappearance. Her servants enslaved the people of Sturmhalten and murdered the people of Passholdt. She betrayed the House of Sturmvoraus by attempting to murder you. And worst of all, she ordered her servants to force her into my mind so that she could use her own daughter to enslave all Europa, beginning with the late Baron Wulfenbach.”
There were more gasps, louder and more horrified. Gil really wanted to go to her, show his support in some tangible way and offer some comfort, but he didn’t dare. He only represented the empire. She was the Heterodyne building up to righteous anger-and she could hardly have looked more powerful and independent if she were ten feet tall and glowing.
“I will swear no oath,” she went on with Spark-edged steel in her voice, “for I need none to strengthen my resolve. Yet I gratefully accept your own sworn intent, Prince Tarvek, for I know it is not offered lightly, nor is the might of the empire idly pledged. There would have been no breach of friendship between the House of Wulfenbach and the House of Heterodyne but for my mother’s crimes.”
“That is so,” Gil acknowledged.
“Then let’s hold the past forgiven,” Agatha concluded, sounding as stupendously dangerous as her grin looked, “and go make Europa free.”
Gil and Tarvek grinned back just as dangerously, and the cheer that erupted was almost loud enough to drown out the Jägers’ roar of “VE HUNT!” and the Winchesters’ bellow of “OORAH!”
The ceremony ended well before mid-morning, so everyone adjourned to one of the castle’s reception halls, where Tarvek had arranged some light refreshments-fruit and pastry, mostly-and cold tea rather than champagne. Agatha’s three Jägers stationed themselves around the room while Gadreel and Violetta ‘disappeared’; the Jäger generals went one way to mingle, Boris went another, and Zeetha, Higgs, and Krosp a third. But Wooster and the Winchesters stuck close to Gil and Agatha, which was just as well, because their group was the one for which Tarvek made a beeline immediately upon his arrival.
“Oh, Agatha!” he exclaimed, hugging Agatha and spinning her around once. “You were astounding.”
“I meant every word,” she replied.
“I know you did, and I adore you for it. Thank you.” He kissed her cheek and let her go, then noticed Wooster. “Wooster! Surprised to see you here, old man.”
“I invited him,” Gil stated as Tarvek shook Wooster’s hand. “He’s Agatha’s aide now, y’know.”
Wooster’s eyes glinted with mirth and understanding, but he kept a straight face as he said, “Yes, quite so, Your Highness.”
“And doing a wonderful job of it, too,” Agatha added.
“In fact,” Gil went on, “he’s doing such a good job, I expect she’ll want him to sit in on all our councils.”
Tarvek blinked and lowered his voice. “I thought you said-”
“I did.”
“But won’t he-”
“Tell Albia everything,” Gil agreed just as quietly, then looked Wooster in the eye. “I’m counting on it.”
Wooster blinked. “Sir?”
“Albia may want the empire off balance, but she won’t want war. That would be a threat to England just as much as it is to us. She needs to know that we’re doing everything we can to keep the peace, and she needs to know that we’re not her enemies. You’re the only man I trust to tell her the whole truth.”
Wooster did smile at that and bowed slightly. “Very good, Master Gil. Or should I say Your Highness?”
“Please don’t,” Gil said with a grimace, the coronet suddenly feeling very heavy.
Tarvek eyed it skeptically. “Yes, about that, I’d been meaning to ask and hadn’t had a chance yesterday. Did that herald actually get all that right? ‘Baron Wulfenbach, Ruler of Europa, Defender of the Pax....’”
“Royal Prince of Skifander,” Gil confirmed. “Boris had the list, and Zeetha confirmed the phrasing.”
“Great heavens. Skifander’s not on Mars, is it? Remember you thought you might be a Martian prince?”
“Zeetha can’t remember, but all things considered, it wouldn’t surprise me.”
Tarvek chuckled and shook his head. “No, it wouldn’t surprise me, either. Speaking of rank, though,” he continued, turning to the Winchesters, “hasn’t Agatha given you men titles yet? There are bound to be some openings among the Knights of Jove before the day’s out, if you’d care to join.”
“Oh! I know this one!” Agatha answered with unusual excitement before either Winchester could say anything. “‘No Title of Nobility shall be granted by the United States: And no Person holding any Office of Profit or Trust under them, shall, without the Consent of the Congress, accept of any present, Emolument, Office, or Title, of any kind whatever, from any King, Prince, or foreign State.’ Article I, Section 9, Clause 8.”
Both brothers looked at her oddly. “How did you know that?” Sam asked.
“Kevin found a copy of your Constitution in his backpack. It’s got the Declaration of Independence and the Articles of Confederation with it, too. Fascinating reading, I must say.”
“And not at all accurate,” said Wooster stiffly. “Even allowing for the differences between worlds-”
“Oh, I’m sure Her Undying Majesty could never be accused of sending swarms of officers to harass your colonies and eat out their substance,” she interrupted blithely. “She probably has clanks for that.”
Wooster coughed and attempted not to look flustered.
“But seriously, Gil, when you have the time, I think you ought to look at this pamphlet,” she went on. “Kevin and I agree, and so does Castiel, that it would take some adapting for the empire, but maybe setting some ground rules and guaranteeing the commons some basic freedoms would give people the incentive to stop supporting the Knights of Jove. It might even give us a way to protect the commons against the worst kind of sparks.”
Tarvek raised an eyebrow. “‘Commons’? Whatever happened to calling them ‘peasants’?”
Agatha put her hands on her hips. “Well, excuse me, but I didn’t exactly grow up in a big fancy palace like you did. Until about two months ago, I was a commoner for all I knew.”
“So was I, in case you forgot,” Gil sniped. “Even you thought so until Tuesday.”
Tarvek threw up his hands. “All right, all right, fine.”
“Wait, wait, wait,” Dean broke in. “Why did Kevin give you a copy of the Constitution in the first place? I know he’s an Advanced Placement poli-sci nerd, but....”
“Oh, I asked him to,” Agatha explained. “I’ve never had a chance to study politics before, you see, but he has.”
Gil nodded. “I would like to look at that, thanks. So would Boris, I expect. Send a copy to me and one to Tarvek when you get the chance. And before you go, I’ll send someone to get you a set of the government textbooks from the school. I’ll get a set for you, too,” he told Tarvek.
Tarvek huffed. “As if I had anything to learn from your father’s propaganda.” But Gil could tell he was pleased.
“Well, look, if we are going to set up some kind of constitution, it would be a good idea for us all to at least have the same set of documents and theories to draw on. And Agatha’s got a point. A constitution would be strong evidence for the argument that the people of the empire are better off staying in it than throwing in with a nobleman who could turn out like the Gilded Duke or the Polar Ice Lords.” Gil decided not to bring up Albia’s mind control; taxing fire in Scandinavia and hunting peasants for sport were certainly despotic enough activities to make his point. And he fancied Wooster looked faintly relieved.
“It might and it might not,” said Tarvek. “Remember, the Knights of Jove have been working overtime the last several years to convince the people that the Storm King is the only solution to their problems. A new law code may not be enough to counteract that.”
“Maybe not, but it would at least buy us some time.”
“Besides, the Fifty Families will never accept the no-nobility clause.”
“So we leave it out,” Agatha said. “Honestly, Tarvek....”
“What you need is a template,” Sam interjected. “Our Constitution can give you that, and then you can change what you have to. There’s nothing in our Constitution that would address the rights of constructs, for example, but you’re probably going to need to because they are sentient beings and a lot of them used to be human. Same thing with sentient clanks.”
That reminded Gil that he needed to check on Punch and Judy, but that could wait until they got back to Castle Wulfenbach and had a spare moment. Zoing was quite capable of monitoring them until then.
“Plus, the Constitution’s just a basis,” Dean added. “You’re still gonna need criminal codes, civil codes, tax codes, all that jazz. What the Constitution does is set up the structure of the government and tell that government what it can and can’t do.”
Sam nodded. “Exactly. Like the First Amendment: ‘Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.’ So, like, Agatha couldn’t ban Heterodyne Boys books or Heterodyne shows just because she doesn’t like the way they portray Bill and Barry.”
“Well, I wouldn’t anyway,” Agatha said, amused. “But it’s a good illustration. And neither, I take it, could Congress, which would have the power to pass such a law. As part of the executive branch, all I could do would be to ask Congress to ban those books.”
“Right, and if they did pass that law, the publisher could sue the government, and the judiciary has the power to declare that law unconstitutional. Since the Constitution is the highest law of the land, any unconstitutional law has to be thrown out. I mean, it’s not a perfect system, but it’s worked for us for over 220 years.”
“Geek,” Dean muttered affectionately.
Gil hummed thoughtfully. “I forgot you studied law. We’ll probably need your input as well as Kevin’s.”
Sam nodded. “Sure. That was a long time ago, but I’ll do what I can.”
“Just what we need,” Tarvek snarked. “A law spark.”
Gil glared at him. “Don’t you have guests to see to?”
Tarvek chuckled. “Actually, I do, so I suppose I ought to. I’ll see you all later.” He made a show of kissing Agatha’s hand before he left.
“Hmph,” said Gil and moved closer to her. “Speaking of constructs, though, I should be able to send Punch and Judy back to Mechanicsburg with you.”
Agatha looked relieved. “Oh, that’s wonderful. Thank you again for saving them. You didn’t have to.”
“Well, at the time, it seemed like the only decent thing to do. And then when I thought I’d lost you....”
“He worked rather harder at it than I thought he should,” Wooster confessed. “But I didn’t dare try to stop him.”
“You helped me quite a lot, Wooster, and don’t think for a moment I didn’t appreciate it. I know I almost never said so, but if it hadn’t been for you, I think I would have gone right over the edge.”
“Her Majesty would hardly have stood for that, sir,” Wooster deadpanned, but the sparkle in his eyes gave away his true feelings on the matter.
“Well, neither would I,” Agatha said stoutly, “and you’ve been a great help to me, too.” And she leaned over and gave him a peck on the cheek, which flustered him worse than he could hide.
Gil chuckled. “Oh, just to warn you, Agatha, Punch can speak now. I’m not sure how well, because he wasn’t up to saying more than a few words before I had to put him back in the reanimation tank for the final stages of healing, but at least he has a voice.”
Agatha took a deep breath and nodded. “Thanks for telling me. That’ll take some getting used to.”
“Probably will for him, too.”
Just then Gen. Goomblast walked up. “Ah, de Vinchesters! Nize hats, yentlemen.”
The Winchesters blinked. “Uh, thanks?” Dean replied.
Goomblast grinned, then bowed to Agatha. “Iz goot to zee you, Miztress.”
“Good to see you, too, General,” Agatha returned. “Have you any news for me?”
“Yah, but mebbe ve vait und tok beck on Kestle Vulfenbach, hey?”
“Of course. That’s very sensible.”
“Your quarters are still available to you, Gen. Goomblast,” said Gil, “or we can meet on the support ship you commandeered.”
Goomblast chuckled. “Hyu vaz alvays goot to us, Herr Baron. Tenk hyu. De old office iz fine.”
“All right, then. Are we supposed to stay for lunch, or....”
Just then raised voices caught everyone’s attention, followed by the distinct sound of a sword being drawn. Gil looked around and saw Tarvek pointing his sword at a wild-eyed nobleman with streaks of white in his dark hair and beard.
“You DARE question me, Maganox?!” Tarvek bellowed.
“That Heterodyne witch has addled your mind!” the nobleman roared. “The Men of Letters? PAH! There is no such society! The Mistress-”
“The Mistress is a false goddess, and she is dead. You know what happened in Passholdt, yet you believe her promise of reward if you can succeed where Snarlantz failed? You old fool! She cannot even protect you from Wulfenbach!”
“Then let us see your new friends protect you from THIS!” Maganox, whoever he was, pulled some sort of device out of his coat and threw it at Tarvek.
But Gadreel, appearing beside Tarvek even more easily than Violetta appeared in front of Agatha, vaporized the device harmlessly before striding up to Maganox and pressing the palm of his right hand flat against Maganox’s forehead. Though Gil couldn’t see what happened next, Maganox screamed... and seconds later, he fell dead, with only smoking sockets where his eyes had been.
Seconds after that, Gil and Agatha were surrounded by a wall of friends. Wooster and the Winchesters had their guns out, Zeetha her swords, Violetta her blow gun, Higgs his fists, Krosp some kind of death ray, and the Jägers... well, were Jägers. Gil readied his lightning stick, and Agatha produced the original lightning stick from somewhere and readied it herself. Boris hadn’t brought more than one sword himself, and he was on the other side of the room talking with the Bürgermeister of Mulverschtag, but he drew that sword with one hand and pushed the Bürgermeister behind him with the other three.
“Anybody got any more bright ideas?” Dean challenged.
There was a tense pause before something like fifty men in the white and gold of the Knights of Jove roared and charged, and all hell broke loose. Tarvek threw his sword to Boris, drew a gun of his own, and made a break for Gil and Agatha with Gadreel hard on his heels and Smoke Knights coming out of the woodwork to defend him. Boris followed Tarvek but was jumped by three men at once; he killed two, but the third almost knifed him before Wooster shot the attacker, much to Boris’ shock. But then Gil lost track of who was where, having to focus on the assailants who were likely to dodge bullets or blow darts. He did fire his lightning stick several times, as did Agatha, but he really couldn’t keep track of who was shooting whom. All he knew in the end-all that mattered-was that Tarvek, Gadreel, and Boris had reached the rest of the group safely, and only the attackers lay dead. Several Smoke Knights looked injured, but none of the other guests were hurt.
“You all right?” Gil asked Tarvek as the smoke cleared.
Tarvek nodded. “Saves us some investigative work, anyway.”
“We should go.”
“Agreed. I’ll come up after lunch if you think you’ll have news.”
“Probably. Gadreel, do you mind staying?”
“Not at all,” Gadreel replied. “These may not be the last.”
Tarvek nodded again. “Thanks, old man. Agatha?”
“I’m all right,” Agatha confirmed, pushing up her glasses. “And I will expect to see you after lunch.” The implied Take care of yourself couldn’t have been clearer.
Tarvek smiled. “After lunch, then.”
Gadreel accepted Tarvek’s sword from Boris and stepped away from the ring of defenders, letting Tarvek out, and then the group closed ranks again and left the palace warily. None of them let down their guard until they were safely aboard the airship, which had been closely guarded by Jägers the entire time, and headed back to Castle Wulfenbach.
In the air, Boris looked over at Wooster. “You saved my life,” he said quietly, sounding somewhat skeptical.
Wooster raised an eyebrow and looked Boris in the eye. “Owed you that, didn’t I?” Then he walked away, leaving Boris staring after him in confusion.
“Iz notting to vorry about, Herr Baron,” Gen. Khrizhan rumbled in Gil’s ear. “Vos a mizunderstandink, but Hy tink it vill be all right now.”
“I hope so,” Gil sighed. “We’ve got enough problems without any of my friends trying to kill each other.”
“Hy dun tink ve gotz to vorry about dot vit dem. Dot Dupree, on de odder hand....”
Gil grimaced. “Yes, well, something tells me I’ll have plenty of work to keep her busy for a while, too.” And the further away from Wooster, the better, he supposed.
Next
A/N: The next several chapters owe a good deal of inspiration to khilari and persephone_kore’s Agatha’s Bad Plan AU and baroque_mongoose’s Wooster stories, all of which I heartily recommend.
Chapter 12
Duke of Earl
“Why are you surprised?” Sam was saying as Gil sluggishly woke the next morning. “She’s your car. It’s only natural she’d share at least some of your personality.”
“Yeah, but parking outside the door?” Dean objected.
“Protecting us. That’s why you took the couch, wasn’t it? You thought if anybody got in-”
“Shut up, Sam.”
“I’m just saying. You’re a guardian, a protector. And so is Baby.”
Gil peeled his eyes open and blinked a few times, then glanced around with a frown. Where... oh, right, he was in the Winchesters’ suite. And there was... something on his chest.
Then it shifted, let out a wide, squeaky yawn, and chirruped at him. Wasp eater. Right. But how did it... oh, never mind.
“Time’s it?” he asked blearily.
“Too damn early,” Dean replied and brought him some coffee. “Especially to be dealin’ with a car that thinks she’s a damn watchdog. C’mere, Loki.”
The wasp eater chuckled and ran away from Dean, but that did at least get it off Gil’s chest so he could sit up. Dean grumbled something under his breath that sounded like something to do with angels.
Gil frowned. “You named it?”
“Temporarily, anyway,” Sam said. “We’ve ordered breakfast, but do you need us to get anything out of your room?”
Gil took a drink of coffee, which helped, and shook his head. “No, thanks. I’ll send a Lackya or someone.”
Breakfast was mainly eggs and bacon, which Dean ate quickly before going in to shower and dress. However, he did pause long enough to get Gil’s opinion of which suit to wear to the coronation, since Tarvek hadn’t ordered anything formal for them.
“Hm,” said Gil. “Well, I’m not sure he should have, really, certainly no more than black tie. Being Americans, of course, you can’t be expected to know the regulations for court dress, and we can honestly say that you didn’t come here expecting to be invited to a coronation. And being ostensibly in the service of the Lady Heterodyne, you would naturally follow her lead, and Heterodynes in general do as they please and don’t care what anyone else thinks. Father was like that, too, in some ways, but he got away with it because of who he was. I’m not Father; I outrank him, evidently; and he insisted that I actually have court dress, so I’m pretty well out of excuses for not wearing it.”
Dean frowned. “They make you wear a skirt for that?”
“Worse. Knee breeches.”
Sam cleared his throat in surprise. “Ignorant foreigner works for me.”
“Hell, yeah,” Dean agreed.
They did each have a black suit, white waistcoat, and white shirt, however, which would certainly do well enough for Sturmhalten’s court; and at Sam’s suggestion, Gil decided to send to the cordwainer for shoulder holsters for their guns.
“I had one in ’44,” Dean groused as he retrieved his suit from the closet. “Bet it’s at home, though.”
“The new ones shouldn’t take long to make,” Gil replied. “The cordwainer’s clanks do good work, and they’re fast.”
Dean made a non-committal noise and disappeared into the bathroom.
“What about your hatmaker?” Sam asked. “A cowboy hat is the only kind Dean will agree to wear that’s also period correct. Would we have time to get some white hats, kind of like Dean’s?”
“Probably, if we send Dean’s as a prototype for the shape. Just plain white with a plain band?”
“Yeah, felt or straw. I’m sure black’s more formal, but with that type of hat, a black hat means you’re a bad guy.”
“That should be no problem, I think.”
“Awesome, thanks. Although I think I’d rather have a brim that looks more like this.” Sam found a notepad and sketched a hat with a brim that curved up at the sides a bit more and a bit closer to the crown. “That’s more of a classic Stetson; Dean’s, for some reason, looks Australian to me. But the crown’s more or less the same shape.”
Gil nodded. “What else will you need? Ties, cufflinks....”
Sam blew the air out of his cheeks. “I dunno. We’ve probably got some spare ties in the car somewhere, but they’re not... I mean, they’re business ties, not the sort you wear to a coronation. And Dean doesn’t like cufflinks and stuff like that. I don’t know if he’d wear ’em even if you loaned us any.”
“Hm.” Gil got up to examine Sam’s white shirt. “No, these don’t require cufflinks, so let’s not annoy Dean further by suggesting he wear them.”
Sam huffed in amusement. “Dean’s just not a morning person. He’ll get over it.”
“As for ties, I’ve got a couple of ascots that you can borrow. I don’t wear them much.”
“Thanks.”
The Lackya returned at that point with Gil’s court dress and all the trimmings appropriate for a coronation, as well as the lightning stick Gil had rebuilt the previous morning, so Gil sent him on to the cordwainer and the hatter, with further instructions to fetch Gil’s white ascots. Dean finished in the bathroom a few minutes later, so Sam went in to take his shower while Gil finished the last of his eggs and had a second cup of coffee. Gil also brought Dean up to speed on their latest requisitions.
Dean nodded approval at the description of the hats but frowned a little at the mention of ascots. “Not sure that’s gonna go well with a Western suit,” he noted. “Appreciate the offer, don’t get me wrong. But... I dunno, maybe we oughta go with something else.”
“Well, for everyday wear, most gentlemen here wear a brooch at the throat with either the badge of their house or that of the house they serve. I could get you a Heterodyne pin, or....”
Dean’s eyes narrowed as he considered. “No, I’ve got a better idea. Here’s what I need.” He grabbed the notepad and scribbled down a short list of components and a sketch of something. “Hey, Sam? You want a bolo tie?”
“Nah, I’ll just borrow one of Gil’s ascots,” Sam called back.
“All right, suit yourself.” Dean jotted down a couple more notes and poured himself another cup of coffee. “Dunno how we’re gonna pay you back for all this,” he confessed to Gil more quietly.
Gil shook his head. “Dean, don’t even think about it. The help you and Sam have already given Agatha, Tarvek, and me is invaluable. I just wish there were more I could do to repay you.”
Visibly embarrassed, Dean ducked his head and rubbed the back of his neck. “Doesn’t feel like we’ve done a whole lot.”
“You killed the battering ram. You exorcised Agatha and proved it to Boris. You stopped Anevka. You gave us the key to breaking Lucrezia’s hold on the Sturmhalteners and a way to kill the slime monsters. You helped us capture Zola, and you interrogated her. To say nothing of Gadreel-sweet lightning, I don’t even want to think of the state I’d be in if Father had managed to lock me up and then set off that stasis bomb with Agatha still in Mechanicsburg.”
“You need to marry that girl, dude.”
“I intend to. But I’ve got to outmaneuver Tarvek before I can. That’s the hell of the politics of all this.”
Dean gave him a quizzical look, but Sam came out of the bathroom just then, which meant it was Gil’s turn to shower. He did so, but cleaning up was the easy part. Getting into his court dress was a somewhat fiddly operation, and he found himself heartily wishing Wooster were there. But he wasn’t, and the Winchesters wouldn’t have known where everything went, so dressing himself was the fastest and easiest option.
When at last Gil emerged from the bathroom, the Winchesters were gone, and so were the remains of breakfast. Dean had left a note on the table, however: Gone to meet Agatha’s blimp. Bay 15.
Blimp. That was a new word. Gil preferred airship, honestly. Be that as it may, Agatha had already arrived, so Gil needed to hurry. He slid into his shoes, unlocked the jewel case that held the coronet he’d never worn-a prince’s coronet; confound it, Father, you could have told me-and put it on, and locked up before going to Bay 15. The Winchesters were outside in the hall, holding their white hats and talking with....
“Sweet lightning,” he breathed before calling, “Wooster!”
“Er,” said Wooster, looking unsure whether he ought to bolt as Gil jogged toward the little group. “Good morning, Herr Baron.”
“What on earth are you doing here? I thought you’d be back in England by now, even without Agatha.”
“I’ve been reassigned to Mechanicsburg, milord.”
“Good thing, too,” Sam said. “You know how we lost all our papers? Cas helped him get us new ones.”
“And he got us these, too,” Dean added with a grin, putting a thumb behind his lapel to show off the badge that matched the design of the centerpiece of his unusual tie. The tie itself was a narrow cord of braided white leather with long silver aglets, and it was held together at the collar by a silver disc engraved with a unicursal hexagram. The badge was the same shape, but cut out rather than engraved. “Dude, we look like Texas Rangers!”
Sam huffed in amusement, and Gil noted that his ascot pin also bore the unicursal hexagram. “I don’t think Henry would like that.”
“Yeah, well, he ain’t here, Sam. We’re the Men of Letters now.”
Wooster frowned. “Who’s....”
“Their paternal grandfather,” Gil explained, having heard the story the day before. “Due to time travel, they hadn’t met him until just a few months ago-and he was younger than they.”
“Ah.” Wooster still looked nervous.
“Red fire, man, you did what I asked. You kept Agatha safe, even if she did insist on going to Mechanicsburg rather than England. Why are you-” And then Gil remembered. “Oh. I screamed at you, didn’t I?”
“Well, yes, you did, rather,” Wooster replied quietly.
Gil sighed heavily. “I wasn’t sure I could trust you or your superiors enough-and you know I was in something of a panic at the time. But I don’t suppose that’s any excuse, really. I’m sorry, Wooster.”
And Wooster finally relaxed somewhat. “For what it’s worth, sir, I didn’t report your remarks to my superiors.”
“Well, considering that Agatha won’t be going to England as anything but the duly acknowledged Heterodyne now, I don’t suppose I’ll have any reason to carry out those threats, which is probably a better thing for me than it is for Albia. So thank you for that.”
“I wouldn’t have wanted anything to happen to her, either, sir. But you were a bit... drastic.”
Gil chuckled. “Classic British understatement there, Wooster. I’ve missed you.”
Wooster smiled and straightened Gil’s jabot for him. Then he noticed the coronet. “I say-”
“Zeetha’s my sister,” Gil explained.
Wooster blinked. “Her Highness hadn’t confessed that aloud until yesterday!”
“The Winchesters and I only figured it out yesterday ourselves. But apparently Father had this made for me despite not trusting anyone but Boris with the information.”
“Great Scott. Well, if it makes you feel any better, it sounded like pure deduction on Princess Zeetha’s part, too.”
“Considering Father thought she’d been sent to kill me, that actually doesn’t surprise me.” Gil suddenly realized that Wooster wasn’t in formal dress, either. “Wait, aren’t you staying?”
“Er, well, I hadn’t planned on it, sir,” Wooster replied, running a hand through his hair.
“Oh, no, no, please do. If anyone asks, you’re my guest. I insist.”
Wooster smiled. “All right, then. Thank you, sir. I should probably stay with Lady Heterodyne’s party, though.”
“Yeah, so should we,” said Sam.
Gil frowned. “Speaking of Agatha, where is she?”
“Talking to Dolokhov last I saw her, sir,” Wooster reported, looking over his shoulder toward the hangar bay. “Discussing funeral arrangements, I believe. And speaking of which,” he added, turning to look Gil in the eye again, “I’m very sorry for your loss, Master Gil. I know the two of you had your problems, and your father wasn’t on the best terms with England, but he truly was a great man.”
Gil swallowed hard and nodded. “Thank you.”
Suddenly he heard a familiar gasp from the bay door. “Gil!”
He turned, and for one awestruck moment, he thought Agatha was wearing a wedding dress complete with veil. But then she moved, and the spell... wasn’t broken, exactly, but at least he could see more clearly. Her dress, even lovelier than the most gorgeous work of the House of Worth, was ivory and embroidered with golden gears and trilobites, and her hair was caught up in a net of pearls that couldn’t quite restrain her incorrigible cowlick. Her glasses were sparkling. And she was beaming. He could barely breathe.
“You look wonderful!” she cried, hugging him.
“You look radiant,” he replied and kissed her. “And I’m glad I’ve got my sword and lightning stick, although I probably shouldn’t kill Tarvek on his coronation day.”
“Oh, stop,” she laughed and backed away. “And don’t you two look dashing!” she added to the Winchesters.
Dean blushed a little and ducked his head with a boyish grin, but Sam answered, “Thank you, Your Ladyship.”
“Oh, just Agatha, please. I gather you’re supposed to be my distant cousins anyway.”
“Master Castiel’s idea,” Wooster explained quietly. “We consulted Castle Heterodyne to find the right link, but it seems the Ht’rok-din’s second son went away with a Viking band and never returned. As there are no records of him after that, it was simple enough to invent a wife for him in Winchester and number him among the dead at Hastings, and as the Heterodynes were already becoming the terror of Europa, that branch of the family took the name ‘Winchester’ instead.”
Dean’s eyebrows went up. “What, so we’re, like, your fifteenth cousins or something?”
“Something like that,” Agatha chuckled. “The castle didn’t have any record of my ancestors attempting to cross over into your universe, so it isn’t likely to be true. But it does make for a good cover story.”
“Well, then, Cousin Agatha,” Sam said with a smile and a slight bow, “you look lovely.”
“Thank you, Sam.” Then she looked at Dean expectantly.
“I’m not sayin’ anything in front of your boyfriend,” Dean deadpanned.
Everyone laughed at that.
“There you are!” Violetta called and came charging out of the hangar bay in a dress the same shade of purple as her usual Smoke Knight uniform. “I’m amazed you haven’t dragged that train through a dozen puddles of oil by now.”
“Well, it’s hardly my fault you and Zeetha were busy talking with Higgs, is it?” Agatha returned. “Speaking of which, Gil-”
“Yes, he may escort Zeetha,” Gil replied before she could finish the question. “And I’ll escort you. Boris is coming, too, and he can escort Violetta if you’d like. But what about Maxim and Dimo?”
“Advance security,” Wooster replied. “Since the Jägers are already in Sturmhalten, we sent them ahead to check the cathedral and send word to Oggie to join them. We’ve sent Krosp with them as well. But if I may say so, Master Gil, I’m surprised you’re not bringing a larger contingent.”
“Aren’t I?” Gil asked mildly, putting an arm around Agatha’s shoulders.
Agatha frowned. “Now wait a minute-”
“You’re nobody’s puppet,” Gil interrupted. “You beat my father handily. But I did publicly declare that you are under my protection, and we still need to sort out all the limits of Mechanicsburg’s autonomy and trade and so forth. So since you happen to be my guest this morning, we’ll go together.”
Agatha huffed. “All right, but we get announced separately.”
“Deal.”
“And we discuss terms this afternoon.”
“Boris has a draft treaty ready for us to look over. But I don’t expect you to sign it until you’ve taken it back to discuss with at least Mamma Gkika.”
Agatha narrowed her eyes. “Why Mamma Gkika?”
“She’s a general and a shrewd businesswoman, and I trust her to have your best interests at heart. And no, it will not include a provision requiring you to marry me. I don’t want Punch to hit me again,” Gil added wryly, letting her go and putting a hand to his head in remembered pain.
Agatha huffed and returned the wry smile. “I’m sorry, Gil. I do want to trust you. I just... didn’t know how it would look.”
“I understand, believe me. But like I said, the world needs to know that I’m on your side. Even after the siege, there will still be powers that want to control you. They just won’t use force next time if they’re smart.” Gil sighed. “Besides, most of the Diplomatic Corps is out delivering announcements and trying to put out fires, and there’s no way I’m bringing Dupree to this affair.”
Sam and Wooster heaved identical sighs of relief.
Dean frowned. “Wait, who’s....”
“The pirate queen,” Sam answered.
“Oh. Yeah. Bad idea.”
Boris finally emerged from the hanger bay, running one hand through his hair while checking his watch with another. “Ah, there you are, Your Highness!” he called when he spotted Gil. “We’re ready for departure in two minutes.”
Gil nodded and offered Agatha his arm, and she took it. But in the end it was Dean who grabbed the train of Agatha’s dress to keep it out of harm’s way and Sam who gallantly escorted Violetta to the airship, where Zeetha and Higgs were waiting. Higgs was in high uniform, and Zeetha... well, clearly, Zeetha had gotten Mamma Gkika’s fashion advice for what Europans considered court dress and gone for some sort of compromise between Jägerdame and Skifandrian. Fortunately, she also had a cloak.
“Heyyyy,” Zeetha called when she saw Gil. “Don’t you look sharp!”
“Erm,” said Boris, who apparently hadn’t noticed Zeetha before and was trying not to be scandalized. “I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure-”
“Ah, allow me,” Gil interrupted. “Boris, this is my sister Zeetha, Royal Princess Guardian of Skifander. Zeetha, my chief administrator, Boris Dolokhov.”
The brief moment in which Boris looked ready to faint was priceless.
And so was the fact that Zeetha immediately came over to hug Gil. “Figured it out, huh?” she breathed in his ear.
“Yeah,” he whispered back. “And I’m sorry about the Wacky Weave thing.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’m glad I found you, brother. And I’m not gonna kill you-unless you hurt Agatha, of course.”
“I know. And I won’t.”
Boris had recovered his composure by the time Zeetha pounded Gil’s back and let go. “I do see the resemblance now. My apologies, Princess Zeetha.”
“It’s all right,” Zeetha told him with a disconcerting grin. “The baron was terrible about keeping secrets. How were you to know his wife was queen of the jungle?”
Boris harrumphed, and it was all Gil could do to keep from laughing. “If Your Highnesses are ready....”
“Let’s go,” said Agatha. “We really shouldn’t keep Tarvek waiting.”
So they trooped onto the airship, with Zeetha trading barely appropriate jibes with Dean and Boris trying valiantly not to hyperventilate. But at least she proved enough of a distraction that Boris didn’t notice Wooster trying to blend in with the paneling.
“I can tell her to stop,” Agatha murmured to Gil, “but I’m not sure how much good it will do.”
Gil chuckled. “No, let her wind him up. It serves him right for keeping secrets.”
The coronation itself, quite frankly, was boring. Given the givens, the crowd was fairly small, mostly nobles from neighboring fiefs and however many of the Knights of Jove were willing to at least look like they supported Tarvek’s claim. Tarvek had somehow managed to run down a bishop, though, so Gadreel was free to join the Heterodyne-Wulfenbach party along with Gen. Goomblast and Gen. Khrizhan. Gadreel ended up between the Jägers and Wooster, who handed him something that Gil assumed must be identity papers and maybe a Men of Letters badge, but none of them really had time to talk. Maxim, Oggie, and Dimo were seated directly behind Gil and Agatha and kept up a sotto voce running commentary on everyone’s hats until time for the ceremony to start, which was rather entertaining. But for the most part, it was the usual sort of ceremony, if a bit pared down to comport with the wartime setting, with the usual sorts of choral numbers and Latin prayers and investitures and whatnot...
... right up to the point where Tarvek, without warning, called Gil and Agatha up to stand witness, then put his right hand on the holiest relic present-the sword of St. Glamdring-and repeated the oath he’d sworn in Mulverschtag the day before. Gasps went up all over the cathedral, probably from dignitaries who hadn’t seen his speech in Mulverschtag. Gil wasn’t sure whether such a move was commendable or reckless in the extreme, but either way, the oath was doubly binding now. And Tarvek was probably already gearing up for the long talk, or rather screaming match, with the Knights of Jove that he’d just made inevitable. Gil didn’t envy him that... but at the same time, it might be better that he force the confrontation now rather than trusting to his usual underhanded methods, which were part of the reason they were in this mess to begin with.
In any case, Gil managed to come up with a more official sounding statement of acceptance than he’d rattled off on the spur of the moment in Mulverschtag, although he stopped short of making any kind of vow of his own. Then he turned to Agatha, who suddenly looked rather pale but still determined and regal.
“I have heard it said,” Agatha began slowly, “that Euphrosynia Heterodyne betrayed the House of Valois and destroyed the peace of Europa. What the truth might be, I do not know. I do know that Lucrezia Mongfish betrayed the House of Heterodyne and devastated Europa on a scale Euphrosynia could never have dreamed. She caused my brother’s death and my father’s disappearance. Her servants enslaved the people of Sturmhalten and murdered the people of Passholdt. She betrayed the House of Sturmvoraus by attempting to murder you. And worst of all, she ordered her servants to force her into my mind so that she could use her own daughter to enslave all Europa, beginning with the late Baron Wulfenbach.”
There were more gasps, louder and more horrified. Gil really wanted to go to her, show his support in some tangible way and offer some comfort, but he didn’t dare. He only represented the empire. She was the Heterodyne building up to righteous anger-and she could hardly have looked more powerful and independent if she were ten feet tall and glowing.
“I will swear no oath,” she went on with Spark-edged steel in her voice, “for I need none to strengthen my resolve. Yet I gratefully accept your own sworn intent, Prince Tarvek, for I know it is not offered lightly, nor is the might of the empire idly pledged. There would have been no breach of friendship between the House of Wulfenbach and the House of Heterodyne but for my mother’s crimes.”
“That is so,” Gil acknowledged.
“Then let’s hold the past forgiven,” Agatha concluded, sounding as stupendously dangerous as her grin looked, “and go make Europa free.”
Gil and Tarvek grinned back just as dangerously, and the cheer that erupted was almost loud enough to drown out the Jägers’ roar of “VE HUNT!” and the Winchesters’ bellow of “OORAH!”
The ceremony ended well before mid-morning, so everyone adjourned to one of the castle’s reception halls, where Tarvek had arranged some light refreshments-fruit and pastry, mostly-and cold tea rather than champagne. Agatha’s three Jägers stationed themselves around the room while Gadreel and Violetta ‘disappeared’; the Jäger generals went one way to mingle, Boris went another, and Zeetha, Higgs, and Krosp a third. But Wooster and the Winchesters stuck close to Gil and Agatha, which was just as well, because their group was the one for which Tarvek made a beeline immediately upon his arrival.
“Oh, Agatha!” he exclaimed, hugging Agatha and spinning her around once. “You were astounding.”
“I meant every word,” she replied.
“I know you did, and I adore you for it. Thank you.” He kissed her cheek and let her go, then noticed Wooster. “Wooster! Surprised to see you here, old man.”
“I invited him,” Gil stated as Tarvek shook Wooster’s hand. “He’s Agatha’s aide now, y’know.”
Wooster’s eyes glinted with mirth and understanding, but he kept a straight face as he said, “Yes, quite so, Your Highness.”
“And doing a wonderful job of it, too,” Agatha added.
“In fact,” Gil went on, “he’s doing such a good job, I expect she’ll want him to sit in on all our councils.”
Tarvek blinked and lowered his voice. “I thought you said-”
“I did.”
“But won’t he-”
“Tell Albia everything,” Gil agreed just as quietly, then looked Wooster in the eye. “I’m counting on it.”
Wooster blinked. “Sir?”
“Albia may want the empire off balance, but she won’t want war. That would be a threat to England just as much as it is to us. She needs to know that we’re doing everything we can to keep the peace, and she needs to know that we’re not her enemies. You’re the only man I trust to tell her the whole truth.”
Wooster did smile at that and bowed slightly. “Very good, Master Gil. Or should I say Your Highness?”
“Please don’t,” Gil said with a grimace, the coronet suddenly feeling very heavy.
Tarvek eyed it skeptically. “Yes, about that, I’d been meaning to ask and hadn’t had a chance yesterday. Did that herald actually get all that right? ‘Baron Wulfenbach, Ruler of Europa, Defender of the Pax....’”
“Royal Prince of Skifander,” Gil confirmed. “Boris had the list, and Zeetha confirmed the phrasing.”
“Great heavens. Skifander’s not on Mars, is it? Remember you thought you might be a Martian prince?”
“Zeetha can’t remember, but all things considered, it wouldn’t surprise me.”
Tarvek chuckled and shook his head. “No, it wouldn’t surprise me, either. Speaking of rank, though,” he continued, turning to the Winchesters, “hasn’t Agatha given you men titles yet? There are bound to be some openings among the Knights of Jove before the day’s out, if you’d care to join.”
“Oh! I know this one!” Agatha answered with unusual excitement before either Winchester could say anything. “‘No Title of Nobility shall be granted by the United States: And no Person holding any Office of Profit or Trust under them, shall, without the Consent of the Congress, accept of any present, Emolument, Office, or Title, of any kind whatever, from any King, Prince, or foreign State.’ Article I, Section 9, Clause 8.”
Both brothers looked at her oddly. “How did you know that?” Sam asked.
“Kevin found a copy of your Constitution in his backpack. It’s got the Declaration of Independence and the Articles of Confederation with it, too. Fascinating reading, I must say.”
“And not at all accurate,” said Wooster stiffly. “Even allowing for the differences between worlds-”
“Oh, I’m sure Her Undying Majesty could never be accused of sending swarms of officers to harass your colonies and eat out their substance,” she interrupted blithely. “She probably has clanks for that.”
Wooster coughed and attempted not to look flustered.
“But seriously, Gil, when you have the time, I think you ought to look at this pamphlet,” she went on. “Kevin and I agree, and so does Castiel, that it would take some adapting for the empire, but maybe setting some ground rules and guaranteeing the commons some basic freedoms would give people the incentive to stop supporting the Knights of Jove. It might even give us a way to protect the commons against the worst kind of sparks.”
Tarvek raised an eyebrow. “‘Commons’? Whatever happened to calling them ‘peasants’?”
Agatha put her hands on her hips. “Well, excuse me, but I didn’t exactly grow up in a big fancy palace like you did. Until about two months ago, I was a commoner for all I knew.”
“So was I, in case you forgot,” Gil sniped. “Even you thought so until Tuesday.”
Tarvek threw up his hands. “All right, all right, fine.”
“Wait, wait, wait,” Dean broke in. “Why did Kevin give you a copy of the Constitution in the first place? I know he’s an Advanced Placement poli-sci nerd, but....”
“Oh, I asked him to,” Agatha explained. “I’ve never had a chance to study politics before, you see, but he has.”
Gil nodded. “I would like to look at that, thanks. So would Boris, I expect. Send a copy to me and one to Tarvek when you get the chance. And before you go, I’ll send someone to get you a set of the government textbooks from the school. I’ll get a set for you, too,” he told Tarvek.
Tarvek huffed. “As if I had anything to learn from your father’s propaganda.” But Gil could tell he was pleased.
“Well, look, if we are going to set up some kind of constitution, it would be a good idea for us all to at least have the same set of documents and theories to draw on. And Agatha’s got a point. A constitution would be strong evidence for the argument that the people of the empire are better off staying in it than throwing in with a nobleman who could turn out like the Gilded Duke or the Polar Ice Lords.” Gil decided not to bring up Albia’s mind control; taxing fire in Scandinavia and hunting peasants for sport were certainly despotic enough activities to make his point. And he fancied Wooster looked faintly relieved.
“It might and it might not,” said Tarvek. “Remember, the Knights of Jove have been working overtime the last several years to convince the people that the Storm King is the only solution to their problems. A new law code may not be enough to counteract that.”
“Maybe not, but it would at least buy us some time.”
“Besides, the Fifty Families will never accept the no-nobility clause.”
“So we leave it out,” Agatha said. “Honestly, Tarvek....”
“What you need is a template,” Sam interjected. “Our Constitution can give you that, and then you can change what you have to. There’s nothing in our Constitution that would address the rights of constructs, for example, but you’re probably going to need to because they are sentient beings and a lot of them used to be human. Same thing with sentient clanks.”
That reminded Gil that he needed to check on Punch and Judy, but that could wait until they got back to Castle Wulfenbach and had a spare moment. Zoing was quite capable of monitoring them until then.
“Plus, the Constitution’s just a basis,” Dean added. “You’re still gonna need criminal codes, civil codes, tax codes, all that jazz. What the Constitution does is set up the structure of the government and tell that government what it can and can’t do.”
Sam nodded. “Exactly. Like the First Amendment: ‘Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.’ So, like, Agatha couldn’t ban Heterodyne Boys books or Heterodyne shows just because she doesn’t like the way they portray Bill and Barry.”
“Well, I wouldn’t anyway,” Agatha said, amused. “But it’s a good illustration. And neither, I take it, could Congress, which would have the power to pass such a law. As part of the executive branch, all I could do would be to ask Congress to ban those books.”
“Right, and if they did pass that law, the publisher could sue the government, and the judiciary has the power to declare that law unconstitutional. Since the Constitution is the highest law of the land, any unconstitutional law has to be thrown out. I mean, it’s not a perfect system, but it’s worked for us for over 220 years.”
“Geek,” Dean muttered affectionately.
Gil hummed thoughtfully. “I forgot you studied law. We’ll probably need your input as well as Kevin’s.”
Sam nodded. “Sure. That was a long time ago, but I’ll do what I can.”
“Just what we need,” Tarvek snarked. “A law spark.”
Gil glared at him. “Don’t you have guests to see to?”
Tarvek chuckled. “Actually, I do, so I suppose I ought to. I’ll see you all later.” He made a show of kissing Agatha’s hand before he left.
“Hmph,” said Gil and moved closer to her. “Speaking of constructs, though, I should be able to send Punch and Judy back to Mechanicsburg with you.”
Agatha looked relieved. “Oh, that’s wonderful. Thank you again for saving them. You didn’t have to.”
“Well, at the time, it seemed like the only decent thing to do. And then when I thought I’d lost you....”
“He worked rather harder at it than I thought he should,” Wooster confessed. “But I didn’t dare try to stop him.”
“You helped me quite a lot, Wooster, and don’t think for a moment I didn’t appreciate it. I know I almost never said so, but if it hadn’t been for you, I think I would have gone right over the edge.”
“Her Majesty would hardly have stood for that, sir,” Wooster deadpanned, but the sparkle in his eyes gave away his true feelings on the matter.
“Well, neither would I,” Agatha said stoutly, “and you’ve been a great help to me, too.” And she leaned over and gave him a peck on the cheek, which flustered him worse than he could hide.
Gil chuckled. “Oh, just to warn you, Agatha, Punch can speak now. I’m not sure how well, because he wasn’t up to saying more than a few words before I had to put him back in the reanimation tank for the final stages of healing, but at least he has a voice.”
Agatha took a deep breath and nodded. “Thanks for telling me. That’ll take some getting used to.”
“Probably will for him, too.”
Just then Gen. Goomblast walked up. “Ah, de Vinchesters! Nize hats, yentlemen.”
The Winchesters blinked. “Uh, thanks?” Dean replied.
Goomblast grinned, then bowed to Agatha. “Iz goot to zee you, Miztress.”
“Good to see you, too, General,” Agatha returned. “Have you any news for me?”
“Yah, but mebbe ve vait und tok beck on Kestle Vulfenbach, hey?”
“Of course. That’s very sensible.”
“Your quarters are still available to you, Gen. Goomblast,” said Gil, “or we can meet on the support ship you commandeered.”
Goomblast chuckled. “Hyu vaz alvays goot to us, Herr Baron. Tenk hyu. De old office iz fine.”
“All right, then. Are we supposed to stay for lunch, or....”
Just then raised voices caught everyone’s attention, followed by the distinct sound of a sword being drawn. Gil looked around and saw Tarvek pointing his sword at a wild-eyed nobleman with streaks of white in his dark hair and beard.
“You DARE question me, Maganox?!” Tarvek bellowed.
“That Heterodyne witch has addled your mind!” the nobleman roared. “The Men of Letters? PAH! There is no such society! The Mistress-”
“The Mistress is a false goddess, and she is dead. You know what happened in Passholdt, yet you believe her promise of reward if you can succeed where Snarlantz failed? You old fool! She cannot even protect you from Wulfenbach!”
“Then let us see your new friends protect you from THIS!” Maganox, whoever he was, pulled some sort of device out of his coat and threw it at Tarvek.
But Gadreel, appearing beside Tarvek even more easily than Violetta appeared in front of Agatha, vaporized the device harmlessly before striding up to Maganox and pressing the palm of his right hand flat against Maganox’s forehead. Though Gil couldn’t see what happened next, Maganox screamed... and seconds later, he fell dead, with only smoking sockets where his eyes had been.
Seconds after that, Gil and Agatha were surrounded by a wall of friends. Wooster and the Winchesters had their guns out, Zeetha her swords, Violetta her blow gun, Higgs his fists, Krosp some kind of death ray, and the Jägers... well, were Jägers. Gil readied his lightning stick, and Agatha produced the original lightning stick from somewhere and readied it herself. Boris hadn’t brought more than one sword himself, and he was on the other side of the room talking with the Bürgermeister of Mulverschtag, but he drew that sword with one hand and pushed the Bürgermeister behind him with the other three.
“Anybody got any more bright ideas?” Dean challenged.
There was a tense pause before something like fifty men in the white and gold of the Knights of Jove roared and charged, and all hell broke loose. Tarvek threw his sword to Boris, drew a gun of his own, and made a break for Gil and Agatha with Gadreel hard on his heels and Smoke Knights coming out of the woodwork to defend him. Boris followed Tarvek but was jumped by three men at once; he killed two, but the third almost knifed him before Wooster shot the attacker, much to Boris’ shock. But then Gil lost track of who was where, having to focus on the assailants who were likely to dodge bullets or blow darts. He did fire his lightning stick several times, as did Agatha, but he really couldn’t keep track of who was shooting whom. All he knew in the end-all that mattered-was that Tarvek, Gadreel, and Boris had reached the rest of the group safely, and only the attackers lay dead. Several Smoke Knights looked injured, but none of the other guests were hurt.
“You all right?” Gil asked Tarvek as the smoke cleared.
Tarvek nodded. “Saves us some investigative work, anyway.”
“We should go.”
“Agreed. I’ll come up after lunch if you think you’ll have news.”
“Probably. Gadreel, do you mind staying?”
“Not at all,” Gadreel replied. “These may not be the last.”
Tarvek nodded again. “Thanks, old man. Agatha?”
“I’m all right,” Agatha confirmed, pushing up her glasses. “And I will expect to see you after lunch.” The implied Take care of yourself couldn’t have been clearer.
Tarvek smiled. “After lunch, then.”
Gadreel accepted Tarvek’s sword from Boris and stepped away from the ring of defenders, letting Tarvek out, and then the group closed ranks again and left the palace warily. None of them let down their guard until they were safely aboard the airship, which had been closely guarded by Jägers the entire time, and headed back to Castle Wulfenbach.
In the air, Boris looked over at Wooster. “You saved my life,” he said quietly, sounding somewhat skeptical.
Wooster raised an eyebrow and looked Boris in the eye. “Owed you that, didn’t I?” Then he walked away, leaving Boris staring after him in confusion.
“Iz notting to vorry about, Herr Baron,” Gen. Khrizhan rumbled in Gil’s ear. “Vos a mizunderstandink, but Hy tink it vill be all right now.”
“I hope so,” Gil sighed. “We’ve got enough problems without any of my friends trying to kill each other.”
“Hy dun tink ve gotz to vorry about dot vit dem. Dot Dupree, on de odder hand....”
Gil grimaced. “Yes, well, something tells me I’ll have plenty of work to keep her busy for a while, too.” And the further away from Wooster, the better, he supposed.
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