Polyxenburgh

By Eugene Patrick Ruisi

In the future of an alternate world, the City of Polyxenburgh is a jewel in the Imperial States of Vespasia. But when a prominent businessman is murdered one night, the lives of its many citizens are altered, leaving the fate of Polyxenburgh and the Imperium precariously hanging in the balance.

Twenty-three-year-old Leigh Palkenberg, an assistant bridge operator and part-time writer, may have been one of the last ones to see the murder victim alive. Following a failed bridge inspection just hours after the murder, Leigh suddenly loses his job. Advised to present himself to God and Man in a Triune Catholic church, Leigh soon makes many connectionsone of whom offers him a job at his private investigation firm.

Propelled down a dangerous path, Leigh finds himself involved in a murder mystery and potential conspiracy; his long-time friend, Vince Deinhof, follows the same path simply by knowing those affected by the deaths. Forced to face the terrible secrets of the world around them and search for the truth, Leigh, Vince, and the citizens of Polyxenburgh must make difficult choices that reveal secrets and transform some into villains and others into heroes. In this new world, they must confront their present lives, future aspirations, secret histories, and far-reaching conspiracies in order to achieve true enlightenment.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Dec 10, 2013
• ISBN: 9781491716175

Eugene Patrick Ruisi

Eugene Patrick Ruisi was born and raised in Queens, NY. He is the author of the Interstellar Monitor novels and Polyxenburgh. He is currently working on various writing projects.

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Copyright © 2013 EUGENE PATRICK RUISI.

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This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

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ISBN: 978-1-4917-1616-8 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4917-1618-2 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4917-1617-5 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2013921836

iUniverse rev. date: 12/05/2013

CONTENTS

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

Chapter 54

Epilogue

CHAPTER 1

I T WAS 10:53 P.M. ON FRIDAY of Achilles 14, 1973 ARC, and Leigh Palkenberg was sitting at his ship lookout station on the Republic Avenue Bridge watching for ships. The Republic Avenue Bridge was a double-leaf bascule bridge, basically a very large gray drawbridge made of steel that spanned the Cathedral Creek. Leigh’s main job as assistant bridge operator was to watch for approaching tug boats, yachts or whatever that passed the bridge, while they went through the Cathedral Creek on their way to the Flemish Mills and Bedrock Creeks. Most of these boats were vessels that had unloaded cargo from large oceangoing ships, which had come up the Omni River from the Hercules Ocean. Occasionally, there were ships carrying cargo of the local variety or just pleasure boaters who had happened to stumble upon the Cathedral Creek. Of course Leigh knew if they had any idea how polluted the Cathedral Creek really was, they would avoid such excursions on the creek. Leigh had been working this job for the last four years and he enjoyed the solitude. Occasionally he had to man the controls for the bridge to open, but usually a full-fledged bridge operator did that, but budget cuts in recent years forced Leigh to diversify his training as assistant bridge operator. Currently he was using his binoculars to gaze out in the distance. About a mile away was the larger Warsaw Bridge, which was so high above the ground, even battleships could pass underneath. But where Leigh was stationed, it was a part of the Cathedral Creek that was somewhat more narrow and not used by such large vessels.

Leigh then heard the blow of a car horn down below his station, and he thought to himself: Old Nathaniel.

Leigh left his post at the high point of the Duchess Tower on the Republic Avenue Bridge. He then went down some green metal stairs until he was at street level and he opened a metal door. Outside was a forty year old black car with an old man standing outside of it with a wooden cane. It was his old friend Nathaniel Krapfen who used to go to the church Leigh was baptized in. Of course, that was back when Leigh went to church. Leigh stopped going when he was seventeen, but Nathaniel just couldn’t break customs of trying to meet up with fellow congregants, even inactive ones like Leigh. Nathaniel had known about Leigh working at the Republic Avenue Bridge for quite sometime, and tended to visit him on Friday nights.

Leigh stepped out and smiled. Hey Nathaniel, what’s up in old Peakwood?

Nathaniel grumbled. Just counting my communal security checks and making sure those pesky kids don’t bother my lawn.

How’s Father Quant? Leigh inquired.

Nathaniel shook his head. Don’t even get me started about him. He’s an asshole.

Leigh smirked. A believer like you, one who follows the ‘good book,’ I figured you be as loyal as the next man to the clergy of the church.

Our Lord knows the difference between true clergymen and false ones, and Father Quant is one of the false ones, Nathaniel pointed out. I’m still kind of sad you don’t go to church anymore.

I respect our God with all my heart. It’s just that I don’t respect the priests, ministers and so forth. Human beings tend to use religion for their own advantages. That’s why when I talk to God, I do so in private, not through any churches or priests, Leigh proclaimed.

Nathaniel nodded. I understand. I’ll pray for you anyway, and may the Holy Essence be with you.

And also with you Nathaniel, and may the Lord Jehovah bless us all, Leigh declared, with a sincere voice.

Nathaniel got in his car and drove off towards the Borough of Streambank. He had other business to attend to that night. Leigh then went back into the Duchess Tower of the Republic Avenue Bridge and closed the door. He then locked it securely and then walked back up the green metal stairs and went to his post. He looked out again and saw no creek traffic; so he decided to take out his spiral notebook and write in it. Leigh was a part-time writer and hoped one day to get his work published. He was only twenty-three years old so he hoped his work would be published in his lifetime. He checked his watch again and it showed it was 11:12 P.M. Time seemed to go slowly on the Republic Avenue Bridge. The phone then rang and Leigh recognized it as the outside line.

Leigh stood up and went over to the phone. He picked up the phone, and said: Republic Avenue Bridge, Duchess Tower, how can I help you?

Who is this? a voice shot back.

Leigh spoke boldly. This is Leigh Palkenberg, who are you?

Never mind that, I want to talk to Ezekiel, the voice replied with venom.

Leigh breathed in deeply. Ezekiel got laid off, five months ago.

Bullshit, the voice responded.

I don’t know what to tell you. The city couldn’t afford that many people, and full-fledged bridge operators have high wages because of union rules, Leigh pointed out.

Are you a union man? the voice inquired.

Local 43, got any other questions, or do you still wish to remain anonymous? Leigh asked, with a forceful voice.

No anonymity, I am Oriel Depas, Chief Delegate for Local 27. I represent the guys on the Flemish Mills bridges. I wanted to talk to Ezekiel because I had a favor to ask. Do you know where he’s at? Oriel queried.

Leigh cleared his throat. No, I don’t.

Let me know if you do, Oriel replied, and then hanged up.

Leigh hanged up the phone and muttered. Fucking jerk.

He went back to his post and gazed at the Cathedral Creek with his binoculars. He then went back to his creative writing. About two hours later, Leigh was preparing some coffee when he noticed lights on the creek. His two-way radio blurted out a message. Republic Avenue Bridge, respond.

Leigh manipulated the radio dials for better reception, and he then pressed the transmit button, and spoke: This is Republic Avenue Bridge, Duchess Tower, over.

The voice on the other end spoke with authority. Roger Duchess Tower, this is PPD Boat 57. We’re conducting an investigation in this area. Have you noticed anything odd tonight?

Negative, it’s been quiet all night, Leigh replied.

Very well, let us know if you see anything, the voice said, and then there was static.

Roger, over and out, Leigh replied.

The Polyxenburgh Police Department boat went under the bridge with little trouble, because it was such a small vessel. Leigh then turned on his shortwave radio and tried to get different stations. If he was lucky, he might even get radio signals from Europe this time of night. Though he knew most radio stations in Europe were off at this hour, he hoped to get their morning news from there. He played with the radio dial but received nothing. He then went back to his creative writing. Hours passed and light started to shine in; and it was 5:45 A.M. and Leigh yawned. He was tired from a boring night’s work. He then heard the door open downstairs, and heavy feet climb the metal staircase. Leigh turned around and saw his coworker Joseph Holz.

Leigh smirked. A little late for you. Usually you’re here 5:30 A.M. the latest.

Joe shook his head. There was a problem on Kaiserland Avenue, some sort of police action. My guess is a murder or something. The Municipal Avenue Bridge was closed and even Republic Avenue on the Streambank side. I had to go over one of those Flemish Mills Creek bridges in Mulberryflint, just to get into Duchess today.

Shit, I was wondering why traffic was so light, Leigh remarked.

You don’t know the half of it, Joe declared.

Leigh continued writing in his spiral notebook, and Joe poured himself some coffee. Joseph took out binoculars and gazed at the creek. He noticed a few police boats on the creek, and commented: Whatever the cops are into, they’re certainly maintaining a presence. They are not messing around.

Leigh nodded.

Joseph then spoke thoughtfully. Listen, why don’t you get going. I got an inspector coming by soon, and I don’t think you want to be around when he arrives.

Leigh stopped writing, and inquired: On a Saturday morning?

It’s a surprise inspection. My contact in Local 43 warned me about it, Joseph responded.

Leigh had a thoughtful expression on his face. Okay, sure. You’ll cover the ten minutes I’m leaving early?

No problem, Joseph replied.

Leigh packed up his things including his spiral notebook and shortwave radio. He then turned to Joseph, and asked: Hey Joe, you ever hear of a guy by the name of Oriel Depas.

Of course, I have. You should know him too. He’s a big shot in the union, Joseph remarked. He owns a restaurant in Mapledale, a butcher shop somewhere in Timberbank, and a… .

Wait a minute, Leigh interrupted. This guy owns a restaurant here in the Borough of Duchess, in essence the South Side of the city, and a butcher shop somewhere in Timberbank, the North Side of the city?

Yeah, Oriel Depas has hands in pies all over the city. I think he has a house in Mapledale, but also another house or mansion in the Grafburg section of Timberbank, Joseph explained.

Leigh exhaled some air. Shit.

That’s about the size of it, Joseph quipped, and his face changed slightly. Why are you so curious about him?

Leigh shrugged. Somebody claiming to be him called during the night, he was asking for Ezekiel.

Our good old pissed-off at the world Ezekiel, Joseph remarked.

One and the same, Leigh declared.

Joseph shrugged. I have no clue what Depas wants with him. All I know is last I heard Ezekiel was working construction in Minuit. Always jobs out there, but a little bit of a commute by light rail I suppose.

This Depas guy sounds like a fucking jerk, Leigh commented.

That fucking jerk is a big shot. Politicians, clergymen, community board members, you better watch out for that guy. He has connections. I heard he got his daughter into the Collegium of Pontifex, a prestigious university downtown, as you most likely well know. Scientists, politicians, archdeacons, even imperators are among the alumni of that school, Joseph stated.

Leigh smirked. Just my luck to talk to him last night on the phone. Well, I better get out of here. Good luck with the inspection.

See ya, Joseph replied, and relaxed in a comfortable chair.

Leigh left the post and went down the metal green stairway. He arrived at the door and opened it. Outside was a familiar face, that of Vince Deinhof. Vince was an old friend of Leigh’s, and they went to Peakwood High School together. Vince was known to be rough around the edges, even had a few run-ins with the law, but nothing serious. He was 100% German-Vespasian unlike Leigh Palkenberg, who was half-German and half-Dutch. Leigh closed the door behind himself and locked it, and then turned to Vince.

Why the fuck are you up so bright and early? Leigh asked, with a tired expression.

I slept at this hot girl’s house last night. I got up early, so figured I check on my old buddy Leigh, Vince said, with an enthusiastic voice.

A hot girl? Leigh remarked. How hot?

Hotter than Rebecca Steinmetz, Vince proclaimed. She’s a red hot redhead, but she seems not to want to put out easily.

Leigh smiled. The hot ones never do. Did she give you her number at least?

Vince grinned. Yeah she did. Though I have to admit I’m not the only guy who has it. Her name’s Deirdre Svenningsen.

Leigh’s ears perked up. The last name sounds familiar.

Vince spoke with a frank voice. It should. Her sister is Persis Svenningsen.

Leigh’s mind clicked. Oh shit, Persis Svenningsen is like the highest paid escort in the city, not to mention a good singer. I think she owns a nightclub in Bede Bluff, all the way up in Palatine.

You betcha, Vince replied. Deirdre is her younger sister.

Are they Swedish or something, a name like Svenningsen and all? Leigh inquired.

Vince shook his hands in the air. Nah, that’s a Danish name, and anyway they’re half Danish and half Scottish, a good mix because they’re both knockouts.

Well, I certainly can say Persis is. So how did you meet Deirdre? Leigh queried.

Vince cleared his throat. I just met her last night after work when I went to the movies. We went to a bar afterwards and she invited me over. Unfortunately, no fun, but she did let me feel her legs a little bit.

There’s that at least, Leigh commented.

Yeah, I know. Far cry from the main attraction. She’s the best piece of ass this side of the Ogden River though, Vince declared.

Leigh nodded. Well good luck. I just hope for your sake you nail this girl before you hit thirty.

Don’t worry, I will. All I need to do is let loose the classic Deinhof charm, and she’ll fold like a deck of cards, Vince replied, with an optimistic voice.

If anyone can do it Vince, you can, Leigh quipped.

Vince nodded. Hey, you want to grab some pancakes in Elmpine?

Elmpine, why not good old Henryburg in Streambank? Leigh asked.

Ah, we can’t, Vince stated and then gestured with his head towards the west, and Leigh noticed a police checkpoint blocking the Streambank side of the bridge.

Leigh nodded awkwardly. The police action, I heard. Do you know what it’s about?

Vince spoke boldly. Yeah, I fucking do. The news is spreading like wild fire. Old Nathaniel got murdered in Mulberryflint near the Henryburg border last night, maybe no more than a half mile from here.

Shit, I saw Nathaniel last night. He dropped by for one of his bridge visits. I must have been one of the last people to see him alive, Leigh remarked.

Vince shrugged. I guess. Probably some people saw him in Streambank too, and then of course whoever killed him. Poor fucking guy. He was a loud mouth, but he was a devote believer and churchgoer, I’ll give him that.

Yeah, he was the religious type. He prayed to the Triune God, at least three times a day. Never forgot his religious duties, Leigh commented.

There was a brief moment of silence as they contemplated Nathaniel’s death.

Leigh then spoke softly in a prayerful tone. Jehovah, savior of mankind, please guide Nathaniel on his journey to the afterlife. May the Holy Essence have mercy on him when he is weighed on the scales of righteousness, so that he may be judged worthy for eternal life. We ask this in the name of the Triune God, and of all the angels and saints.

Vince nodded but remained quiet. They then returned to a more normal state.

Leigh spoke softly. I just felt I should do that.

I get it Leigh. I might be a dick at times, but we’re just mortals. In the end we have to talk to the Divine Ones, no matter what their names may be, and ask for help, because otherwise we’re nothing more than specks of air and dust. Whoever the Divine Ones are, we have to hope they can help us after death, Vince said, and continued to speak. But of course I believe the Divine Ones want us to live our lives fully, to enjoy it all and to follow our wills and our pleasures, so that we may have wisdom, money, property and pussy.

Poetic, Leigh quipped.

Yeah, Vince replied. The working man’s guide to the afterlife or something like that.

Well, do they have any idea who did it? Leigh inquired.

Vince cleared his throat. Nah, nobody knows who did it. Some people think it’s the Bavarian Mob, but others think maybe the Russians had something to do with it, Vince remarked.

Leigh rolled his eyes. What would the Bavarian Mob or the Russians want from Nathaniel?

Vince sighed. All right, well that’s what the cops are saying. If you want to hear my opinion, I think it was those fucking Arian-Cathars. They’re always roaming around the streets in the shadows. Always mumbling about that they believe Jehovah is not God, that he was just a man and the material world is evil. I mean what a bunch of psychos.

I don’t know, Leigh replied. You might have a point. But this is stuff I don’t want to think about. The Arian-Cathars are an ancient variation of Christianity. In our church’s case, the Triune Catholic Church, we’re a unique variation of Christianity. We worship Jesus Christ, we just call him Jehovah, and we believe in the Trinity, or as we say the Triune God. But we also do things most other Christian groups do not adhere to or believe, except maybe the Triune Orthodox Church. Our members perform ceremonial magic, follow the teachings of Qabalah, as well as various esoteric ideas and are slightly influenced by Hermetic philosophy. To put it simply, we’re a mutated version of Christianity. Though familiar to us; to others it might seem out there, especially to groups like the Arian-Cathars or the Nestorians, or any other Christian group you can think of. Who’s a psycho and who isn’t, it’s all subjective, Vince.

Maybe, Vince responded, with a slightly contemplative look on his face.

Leigh grimaced. To put it simply, these are fundamental differences. The Arian-Cathars do not recognize the seven ancient ecumenical councils, nor the twelve Triune ecclesiastical councils. Those councils define not only our very definition of the Divine, but also who we are as faithful Triune Christians, and our roles and goals in life. The Arian-Cathars don’t believe in a Triune God, just in the God the Father part, or as we call him Elohim. They do not agree with the esoteric influences in our church, even though we accept God the Father as God and Jesus as the Messiah. But this is an old and pointless dispute that can never be won, and it’s not supposed to be won. Religion is not a marathon, it’s personal, and it should stay that way for each individual.

No shit, Vince replied. I know that all too well, but somebody should let the Arian-Cathars know that it’s not a marathon. The way they’re turning out the propaganda, they seem to feel otherwise.

Leigh sighed. The Arian-Cathars think they’re right, we think we’re right. This is an ancient dispute going back before the beginning of our calendar. But that’s besides the point. The point I was trying to make and got off track a little is that if the Arian-Cathars were responsible for Nathaniel’s death, then I pity them, because the police will hunt them down like rabid dogs and with no mercy.

Vince nodded. Well, whatever the case may be, I have no sympathy for them. But let’s forget about them. How about we head on over to the Milch Diner, it’s only a couple of miles up Republic Avenue.

Vince, I’m fucking wiped out. If you can do me any favor, it’s to drive me the fuck home before I fucking fall down, Leigh replied.

Vince smiled. All right.

Vince led the way, and they walked down the bridge till they were fully on the Duchess side of the bridge at the corner of Republic Avenue and Wayne Street. They then crossed the street and got into Vince’s beat-up ten year old green car, and Vince started the engine and began driving. They didn’t see anyone out since it was a Saturday morning, and Herzog Junction, the neighborhood in which they were driving through, was mainly a factory, warehouse and labor-oriented neighborhood. Workers almost always got Saturdays off, unless their job was a profession that always required a human presence, such as Leigh Palkenberg’s job on the Republic Avenue Bridge. Herzog Junction was also the most important railroad junction in the Borough of Duchess, and some would say in the entire City of Polyxenburgh.

Vince turned on to Monticello Avenue and drove down it. There was little traffic and he was quiet. Leigh was almost out of it. Partially because of his work shift, but also because of the carbon monoxide fumes entering the interior of the car. Leigh was starting to get a splitting headache. They then entered the neighborhood of Liturbeth. This part of Liturbeth was mostly factories, just like Herzog Junction, but once they crossed the railroad tracks at Bullion Avenue, they would be in the more residential part of Liturbeth. They soon reached the railroad tracks and their car crossed over all eight of the railroad tracks, and they passed Bullion Avenue. Then to their right they saw the Landgut Diner, and a familiar obese figure was resting against a gray car.

Vince smirked. Oh shit, it’s Big Jim.

Leigh shook his head. I guess I’m not getting home this morning.

Come on man, Vince remarked. We gotta at least talk to Big Jim.

Vince drove into the parking lot and rolled down his window, and yelled: Hey Big Jim, what’s happening?

Big Jim came over, and said: What the fuck are you Knuckleheads doing here? Big Jim’s real name was James Nowakowski. He was half Polish and half German. He was extremely obese so that his gut was his most distinguishing feature. He had short brown hair and brown eyes and slightly tanned skin. He was known as a wise ass and tough guy and spoke fluent German. He knew a lot about cars, shortwave radios, modified CB radios and information about things that were on the fringes of legality. He was a sort of wise guy that never got caught doing anything wrong, but everyone knew he wasn’t necessarily on the law’s side either.

Vince smirked. I was driving Leigh home here, from his job at the Republic Avenue Bridge.

James looked in the car, and smirked. Leigh!

Leigh nodded. Hey Jim.

James nodded and returned his gaze at Vince. Well, I take it the Republic Avenue Bridge is still closed.

Vince cleared his throat. Yeah, totally closed. All because of Nathaniel’s murder.

Big Jim shook his head. That old man had a big mouth, not a bad guy, but a big mouth nonetheless. He used to start shit with all of the apostolic priests in Polyxenburgh. Only old Nathaniel Krapfen could do that. He especially hated Father Geiz at St. Terra’s here in Liturbeth, and that is somebody you don’t start shit with. That is a man that I would never cross because he has hands in a Hades’ load of pies, and I can tell you he is somebody you don’t fuck with. People always say I’m Mr. Illegal. That mother fucker invented the word, and the word hypocrite right next to it.

Vince smirked. You ain’t kidding Jim. Theodosius Geiz was a big mean fat fuck of a priest. I remember back when I was forced to take religious education classes at St. Apollonius High School where he was the teaching priest. He used to goggle at this fifteen year old girl’s cleavage. Granted, she was a hot blonde with blue eyes and a nice ass and legs you could die for, but he was a thirty-eight year old horny fat pig. So she used to always wear short dresses and pal around with him before and after class, sitting on his desk showing off her legs, bending down in front of him so he get a look-see, and only Elohim knows what else she did. Anyway, she was as dumb as shit when it came to religion, and yet her final grade was an ‘A,’ and my grade was a fucking ‘D.’

Big Jim turned red and started to laugh. Don’t I fucking know it. Like you Knuckleheads, I’m an alumnus of Peakwood High School, but I had to go to St. Apollonius High School for religious education, on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Only Father Geiz would always give the hot girls high grades so long as they pampered him, no matter how dumb they were. I got a high grade too, because I found out information from a friend of mine about him. Years ago Father Geiz was a student at a major Triune Orthodox Seminary, and just before he was to be ordained as a priest, he fucked an Irish Druid’s daughter and got her pregnant. He got expelled and defrocked as a deacon in the Triune Orthodox Church; and had to make his way to the Triune Catholic Church where he was ordained as a deacon, and later as a priest in the Apostolic Priesthood. The Triune Catholic Church is more liberal on sexual matters than the Triune Orthodox Church, but nevertheless the Triune Catholic bishop he answers to would frown on this special arrangement being made public. Because of this information, I blackmailed Father Geiz and I got an ‘A’ in that class too.

Leigh smirked. Jim, you the man.

Big Jim smiled. I am, but I’m not as dumb as Nathaniel. That old fart. I remember he used to piss off Father Quant at St. Artemisia too. Ames Haugrud used to tell me that Father Quant and Nathaniel were like fire and ice, and Nathaniel really put it to Quant; though Quant could be a dick at times, and a very rage-filled one at that. I remember one time old Denton Moyle got into it with Quant and there were fists flying. Father Quant is another clerical badass.

Leigh grinned. You’ll have no argument from me Jim. Father Quant is one of the big reasons my father had us move out of Peakwood. He felt he was a not a good influence, and that his angry ways were not that of a clergyman of the Triune Catholic faith.

Your father was right, Jim said, and glared at Leigh. He then softened his look. All I know is, because old Nathaniel is dead, I have to wait here for the fucking Vartanian brothers from Henryburg to show. Normally they take the Republic Avenue Bridge, but because of all this shit, now I have to wait for them longer. Probably took the Bluepoint Avenue Bridge, but that will take them forever.

Why didn’t they just take the DSE which goes over the Warsaw Bridge. That would be quicker? Vince asked.

It’s Saturday, remember. They’re going to be doing construction on the weekends. The Warsaw Bridge will not be open on weekends until Septimus, Jim pointed out.

Vince nodded. So what business you got with them, if you can say?

Jim grinned. No big deal, nothing secret. I’m gonna take them to the Venice Club parking lot about half mile up Bullion Avenue here where I’m a bouncer at. I have the keys to the chains on the fences that lock up the parking lot. I’m gonna let them use it so Jebediah Vartanian can learn how to drive. His big brother Zephaniah, and his other brother Melchizedek will be training him, and I’m gonna help them out.

Just as he said that, a small black van pulled in the lot and the driver honked his horn. Hey Big Jim, you ready?

Jim looked over and saw that it was the Vartanians.

Jim hollered. I’ll be with you in a moment.

Vince smiled. They seem anxious.

They have no other place to train Vince, Jim pointed out. Fucking Henryburg has no parking lots, only empty lots that are not too gentle on cars, and I happen to be a friend of theirs, so I figured why not.

Jim was about to turn away, but then remembered something and turned back to Vince and Leigh. Hey, you Guys, there’s going to be a dance, and a bit of a drinking contest on the side, at the Veterans of Imperial Wars Lodge on 57th Road and Republic Avenue, Tuesday night. Want to come. A lot of people from high school will be there. Might be a night to find some pussy.

Vince looked at Leigh, and Leigh remarked: We’ll definitely consider it.

Jim tapped the car. Good.

The Vartanians honked their horn again, and yelled: Come on Big Jim, we don’t got all day.

Jim smirked. Gotta go, see you Bums later.

Jim moved up and used Vince’s car as means to stand up more firmly, and the movement slightly shook Vince’s car. Then Jim went over to his gray car and started up the engine; and drove off, and the Vartanian’s van followed.

Big Fucking Jim, Vince shook his head. Guy’s got his fat hands in everything.

No shit, Leigh responded.

So you want me to drive you home? Vince inquired.

Nah, fuck it. Let’s eat at Landgut’s here. I think I could go for those pancakes right about now, Leigh replied.

Great, Vince said.

They got out of Vince’s car and went into the diner. They saw some familiar faces, but one figure caught their attention right away: Nevina Skewes. Nevina was the main waitress at the Landgut Diner and a graduate of Peakwood High School. She knew Vince and Leigh from there and instantly recognized them. Nevina was five feet and five inches tall in height. She had beautiful long black hair and small piercing brown eyes. She had beautiful fair skin and long legs that got customers and everyone else’s attention. She was wearing a blue skirt that showed off her legs with tan stockings, black shoes, a white blouse, and a blue waitress hat. She was of British and French descent and was a very culturally hip person. She was tolerant of people but could be stern when needed. Vince and Leigh admired her body, but at the same time waited with anticipation.

Nevina smiled. So you Fellows want a seat, or you just gonna stare all day?

Vince smirked. Tempting, but I think Leigh here is hungry.

Nevina smiled. I bet.

Vince and Leigh sat down at a table Nevina showed them, and she gave them menus.

I’ll be back in a sec, Nevina said, and walked away to take care of someone who asked for their check.

Vince grinned as he gazed at the menu. Shit, Nevina is still fucking hot.

Leigh nodded. I know. I remember back in high school, I had study hall with her, I just used to stare at her legs the whole time. She was pretty damn good.

Vince nodded. She was great. She wasn’t the only one though. We had quite a few hotties back in those days. But all that shit is over. You work now on a low-paying union job, and I work at a factory off-the-books. We’re certainly not having the good life.

I know, Leigh responded. Ain’t no girl gonna marry a guy like me with the cornmeal pay I get. I’m surprised Nevina didn’t get a husband yet.

Vince cocked his head forward. I guess marriage isn’t her thing. She looks like the kind of girl that wants to seduce her way up to success; not get fucked up by a guy who gets her pregnant, and wants to keep her at home with the kids with no future.

Leigh shrugged. Perhaps.

Nevina then came over with a checkbook and a pen with a smile. Ready to order?

Leigh spoke first. I like some pancakes with bacon, and some orange soda on the side.

Nevina wrote it down and then Vince spoke. I like some eggs, hash browns and sausage, with a cup of coffee, milk, no sugar.

Nevina wrote down the order and took the menus from them. I’ll have it ready for you in a few minutes.

Nevina walked away and went to the kitchen to fulfill the order. Leigh then turned to Vince. Hey, you want to go to that dance at the Imperial War Lodge that Big Jim was talking about?

I don’t know, maybe. Fucking work is tiring, and I’m into a lot of bad habits, Vince remarked.

What kind of habits? Leigh asked, and wished he hadn’t.

I drink ten bottles a day, and smoke six packs of cigarettes a day, not to mention the fact that my cousin gives me these pills, who knows if they’re legal or not. To put it simply, I’m driving on the shoulder rails of the highway of life. No telling when I’m going to fall right the fuck off, Vince commented.

Leigh coughed. Fuck.

You ain’t kidding, Vince declared. They should write a book about us. How to become fucked up Vesputzes, just follow our life stories.

An old man who was a cook at the place heard what Vince had said. The old man was seventy-three years old, and had wrinkled skin with gray eyes and white hair, and he was smoking a cigarette. He was wearing glasses, and he had a white apron that showed he was a worker at Landgut’s, and he had a white cap that showed he was a cook. But when he heard Vince use the word Vesputz, he was highly offended, because that was a derogatory term for Vespasians that only outsiders of Vespasia would use.

Watch your mouth Young Man, the old guy said.

Vince grew slowly angry. Watch my mouth about what?

That language. How dare you use anti-Vespasian slurs in my presence. I am a veteran. I fought for this country, the old man proclaimed.

Vince smirked. What the fuck is your problem? I was born here. I have a right to poke fun at this little imperium of ours.

The old man grew angry and threw his cigarette on the floor. I don’t give a shit if you’re the imperator’s fucking nephew. No one uses anti-Vespasian slurs in this joint because I say so. My brother owns this fucking place, and little punks like you will show some respect for Vespasia and our sacrifices.

Listen you Old Fart. I will say what I God damned well please. This is a free country, which I happen to love. If you love something, sometimes you have to be critical of it so it doesn’t fuck itself up, Vince declared.

The old man sneered at Vince. Who are you to judge this great imperium?

Vince was tired of this quarrel, and decided to change the subject in an enraging manner. How about I call up the newspapers and say I saw a rat here?

The old man became irate and went right up to Vince’s face and growled. You Little Cocksucker. Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?

Vince waved his hands. I wanted the news, not the weather.

At that moment, Nevina approached. Willie, everything okay?

Willie stood tall, and gazed at Nevina. Nothing wrong My Dear. Just a little man to man with this young man about a slight disagreement.

Nevina spoke softly. Well, Dean needs you in the basement. The flour shipments just arrived, he needs your help.

Willie nodded, and then took one last look at Vince. Fucking Moron.

Willie walked away and then Nevina approached Leigh and Vince with their drinks. You gotta give old Willie a break. He’s old fashioned. Most of his high school buddies were wiped out during the War of ’27, and he doesn’t take kindly to anti-Vespasian statements. He was a prisoner of war for a while, and was mistreated by the guards, so he takes it personally when someone affronts Vespasia. Cut him some slack.

Vince smirked. I’ll cut his balls off, how’s that for some slack.

Leigh chuckled. Assuming he has any.

Vince grinned. Probably all wrinkled and worn out from jerking off.

Nevina grew impatient. Okay, if you guys are gonna be gross.

Vince put up his hand. Calm down. All right, we’ll let the old bastard be, but he better behave in the future.

Usually he does, Nevina replied. Just no anti-Vespasian comments.

Vince nodded. Sounds fair.

The main cook rang a bell indicating the order was ready, and Nevina went over and brought over the plates of food. Leigh and Vince began to eat and just enjoyed their time there. A few trucks passed by on the outside, and customers came and went into the diner. They soon finished their food and Leigh felt content. Vince took out a cigarette and lighted it.

Thank Elohim, for eggs and sausage. Now I can go home and sleep till tonight, Vince commented.

Me too, though knowing my dad, he’ll have something to talk about, Leigh remarked.

Nevina brought the check over and left it on the table. Vince stared at her legs and Nevina noticed. What are you staring at?

You and your wonderful legs, Vince said. Since you’re so hot Nevina, here’s a tip.

He then reached into his pocket and then handed her a golden aureus coin that was worth about twenty-five denarii. Nevina smiled and moved her legs slightly and grinned. Anything else I can do for you fellows?

Vince stood up and gazed into her eyes. Just keep showing your legs Baby, and they’ll be plenty more aurei for you.

Wuhu, I look forward to that, Nevina smiled and put the aureus coin into her blouse pocket. She walked away, and Vince and Leigh walked over to the cash register and paid the bill. They then went outside the diner, and then got in Vince’s car and drove down Bullion Avenue.

Good food, Leigh remarked.

Yeah, and if not for that old fart, a perfect experience, Vince commented.

They then went over a single railroad track with no rail crossing sign. This particular track was used by a local factory, and was only sparingly used, and thus railroad guards were not needed. They continued down Bullion Avenue and passed a bread distributor. Finally they were out near the Venice Club; and saw James Nowakowski sitting on the hood of his gray car, while one of the Vartanian brothers was practicing his maneuvers in the parking lot.

Vince was all too tempted to see this.

Leigh attempted to protest. Let’s keep going Vince.

Come on Man. I want to see these fucking idiots be bigger fucking idiots than normal, Vince replied, and then pulled up the car to the front entrance.

James saw Vince’s car and smiled and got off his hood, which allowed the car relief from his heavy bulk.

Vince and Leigh got out.

James smirked. The fuck you Clowns here for, to see the circus?

Vince smiled. I want to see the Vartanian brothers fuck up, and knowing that fucking family that will be happening in the next fifteen minutes.

James smirked. Come on in. I’m curious too.

They walked into the lot, and Zephaniah Vartanian was standing on the side watching as his youngest brother Jebediah was driving the van. Meanwhile, his middle brother Melchizedek was in the front passenger seat looking on and giving Jebediah directions. Jebediah drove erratically, and then hit the breaks before ramming into some plastic orange cones.

Fucking idiot, Zephaniah said under his breath. Can’t do anything right.

Zephaniah signaled for Melchizedek to get out and he did so promptly.

Melchizedek shrugged. Think you can do better training him, be my guest.

Zephaniah got in the passenger seat while Melchizedek went over to James, Vince and Leigh.

Melchizedek shook his head. Jebediah is a fucking idiot.

He then noticed Vince and shook his hand. Long time Vince. What’s happening down in Peakwood?

Same shit, still working, still off-the-books, and still fucking up anyone that crosses over from Mulberryflint looking to start shit, Vince declared.

Same old Vince, you’re as tough as ever. I remember that time at freshmen orientation in high school when you fucked up that kid who was trying to go after that girl. Damn, did he bleed, Melchizedek commented.

Vince smirked. Hey, you gotta teach them early, certain areas of pussy are off limits to fuckups and losers.

I bet, Melchizedek replied, and then noticed Leigh. So Leigh, how’s it hanging on the Republic Avenue Bridge?

A lot of bullshit but it pays. Still writing. I’m thinking of sending a manuscript in, Leigh remarked.

That’s good, Melchizedek responded, just as his brother Jebediah started up the engine, and the van moved forward and made a turn. The van’s engine increased in speed; and then its tires screeched as it tried to stop, and then slammed into a dumpster, and all the garbage spilled out.

James grew angry. Fuck this. We gotta go. I’m not sticking around for my boss to show up and make me clean this up.

James went to the van, and said: Get him out of the driver’s seat. This shit is over. We gotta get out of here before my boss shows.

Jebediah got out of the driver’s seat and Zephaniah could be heard saying: This will never work.

Melchizedek ran over and got in the driver’s seat, and Jebediah got in the back of the van. Then all three brothers drove off in the same van with Melchizedek at the wheel.

James turned to Vince and Leigh. That includes you two Bozos. You gotta go. I gotta lock up, and convince my boss later that it was some vandals who fucked up the dumpsters.

Vince nodded. All right Jim, see ya.

Vince and Leigh got in the car and drove off. Vince then drove down Bullion Avenue until he reached Flussufer Boulevard, and turned on to it. They soon entered the more residential area of Hartdale and traffic was light on Flussufer Boulevard. They then entered the neighborhood of Sycamore Point, and this neighborhood was more commercial in nature with stores lining Flussufer Boulevard. They reached the intersection of Branch Boulevard and made a left turn onto the Pence Bridge. Pence Bridge was a small yellow cantilever bridge that crossed the Ogden River. They were leaving the Borough of Duchess, and were on their way to the Borough of Ostenpleb, another borough in the City of Polyxenburgh. They reached the other side of the river, and were now officially in the Borough of Ostenpleb. They were presently in the neighborhood of Elmpine, which was a middle class neighborhood, with many stores lining Branch Boulevard as they went along. They even passed a few diners they would normally go to when they had the chance.

They drove down Branch Boulevard, which made a more north-easterly turn into the neighborhood of Laurel Hill. They continued north up Branch Boulevard. This part of the Branch Boulevard was mostly empty, because there were few stores if any on this part of the boulevard. Most of Laurel Hill in this region of the neighborhood was filled with cemeteries, abandoned factories, and highways. They continued up the boulevard and said nothing. To their left was a Triune Orthodox cemetery, and to their right was the elevated portions of the Lublin Expressway. It ran for the next half mile parallel to Branch Avenue, but the highway would eventually turn off at Lorier Avenue. Vince and Leigh continued down Branch Boulevard. Up ahead they saw a few people crossing, but paid them no attention, and kept driving. Branch Boulevard soon came to an intersection with Lorier Avenue. The Lublin Expressway turned right and the Triune Orthodox cemetery came to an end, and the residential neighborhood of Skunk Hollow began.

Skunk Hollow was a very poor neighborhood in the Borough of Ostenpleb. Most of the people who lived there were down on their luck, and usually had no jobs and were on government assistance. Many of the residents went into the imperial military, because they hoped that imperial service would better their economic perspectives; while others just tried to make their way in the world with a little help from the government. They continued to drive up Branch Boulevard and soon they entered Leigh’s neighborhood of Halcyon Point.

Halcyon Point was a middle class neighborhood, which was a mix of residential housing and commercial store space. It was better off than its next door neighborhood of Skunk Hollow, and was considered a nice place to live by most of its residents of the middle class variety. Vince made a right turn onto Aries Avenue and drove down it for a half mile. Soon they reached the intersection of Aries Avenue and Banshee Street. They came to a stop at a traffic light, and they saw a guy outside handing out papers.

Vince gazed at Leigh and then motioned with his hand. Who is that guy?

Leigh sighed. That’s Brett, Brett Karton. He works for multiple newspapers and hands them out as freebies to promote the papers.

Call him over, I like a free copy, Vince said.

Vince, it’s not worth it. He’s the neighborhood asshole, trust me man, Leigh replied.

Trust me, I’ll sweet talk dickhead, Vince remarked, but then the light turned green, and a car behind him blew its horn, and the driver yelled: Hey Asshole, it’s a fucking green light.

Vince stuck his left hand out the window and extended his middle finger up, and yelled. Suck my balls and kiss my Teutonic ass.

Leigh grimaced. Oh shit.

The guy drove up alongside Vince’s car and had a red face filled with rage. How about I rip your fucking balls off, and shoot your fucking Kraut ass with rock salt.

Vince then went into his glove compartment and then pulled a .38 caliber gun on the guy, and pointed at him out the window. How about I use the real thing, and see your brains splattered all over the dashboard.

The guy did not flinch. How about I rat you out to the cops, maybe even call the Praetorian Guard on your ass?

Vince smiled and then held up a certificate. I got a license. I’m a big supporter of the Seventh Article of Citizenry. Now, what mother fucker?

I know your fucking car. I’ll fucking find you, the guy declared, and then drove off as the light turned red.

The light remained red for a good two minutes. During that time, Brett Karton was trying to give newspapers to drivers on Banshee Street but there were no takers. Finally, Brett Karton came over to Vince’s car, and said: Wanna free paper?

Fuck off, Vince screamed.

Hey, who do you think you’re talking to? Brett asked in a sour voice.

The light turned green at that moment, and Vince stared right into Brett’s eyes. Your fucking sweet sister, I fucked her last night while you gave out papers like a dumb ass.

Vince hit the gas peddle and drove off, and Brett cursed at him. You Mother Fucker, if I find you, I’ll fuck you up.

Leigh shook his hands. Dude, you’re gonna get us both killed.

Nah, don’t worry, Vince remarked, in a reassuring voice. Swift car loser, only saw me, and baby Brett over there was only pissed at me, you were an innocent bystander.

Leigh breathed in deeply. I hope they see it that way.

They then approached Gallic Avenue and Vince turned on to it. He then stopped in front of a green and white house. Leigh got out and then closed the door, but gazed in at Vince. So you wanna go to that Imperial War Lodge Dance on Tuesday?

Vince had a thoughtful expression. Why not? Nothing else I’m gonna be doing that night. Maybe we both can pick up some girls.

Vince then turned the column shift on his car, and said: Take it easy Leigh.

Vince then drove off down Gallic Avenue, and made a right turn on Halcyonpoint Avenue and headed back to Duchess. Leigh then went through his family’s front gate and entered his house. He entered the living room and his father Arthur Palkenberg was sitting in a chair waiting for him. He had a concerned look on his face.

I just got a call from your supervisor at Local 43, Arthur began. He’s says that there was a surprise inspection today, and you weren’t there.

Leigh had a shocked look on his face. Yeah, I know, but Joe Holz said he would cover for me.

Arthur Palkenberg gazed at his son. Leigh, what have I always told you, never depend on other people to cover your ass. He turned on you, said you left early and refused to stay. The inspector critiqued the place and marked you down for this. Your supervisor says you’re fired without severance benefits, and that you’re formally kicked out of Local 43. You were making little money as it is, and now you’re out of a job.

Fuck, mother fucker lied to me, Leigh roared, with an enraged voice.

Don’t depend on anyone Leigh, Arthur said, and stood up. Listen, the economy is bad right now. Even the imperator has been on TV declaring it. In this neighborhood, we have no connections. You need to get ready, because tomorrow I want you to go to Father Quant’s church and make contact with people there. Lots of union reps, businessmen go there, not to mention the fact that Father Quant is a prominent priest; and rumored to be in consideration for archdeaconry, and quite possibly will be called to the side of the Supreme Patriarch in Aeternuspolis. This is important Leigh. Go there tomorrow and make some friends. It might take a few weeks, but use our family history to persuade people. I might even suggest you call your friend Ezekiel Schorr up.

Ezekiel has his own problems, Leigh responded.

Arthur spoke frankly. As we all do. Nevertheless, all options should be on the table. But first things first, go to church tomorrow. Present yourself before God and Man and just maybe you might be able to replace the job you just pretty much lost.

All right Dad, I will, as much as a pain in the ass it is, I will, Leigh replied, and then walked away and went to his room, and went to sleep right away.

CHAPTER 2

I T WAS 10:23 A.M. ON SUNDAY of Achilles 16, 1973 ARC, and Leigh Palkenberg was approaching St. Artemisia Triune Catholic Church in the neighborhood of Peakwood in the Borough of Duchess. The church was up on a slight hill and was a large structure. Just before the church was the rectory, the residence of the church’s priests. The rectory was a three-story brown brick building with a brick porch that had wooden benches on it out front. To the side was a large parking lot for the three priests who worked there and other members of the staff and visitors to the church for Sunday worship. Leigh walked up the street and past the driveway that was used as a delivery area for the church itself. He now received a better view of the church, which he had not been to in over six years. The church was seventy feet in height and was mostly tan in color. It had a large rectangular steeple on top with a green dome, where the bells for the church were used to announce to the faithful that they must come to pray before the Triune God.

Leigh approached the front and saw a large metal sign with words on it. It appeared to be a sermon and it read: "Hot out isn’t it? There is a hotter place if you do evil before the eyes of Elohim!"

Leigh smirked and thought to himself. Old Father Quant. Always has a message to give.

Leigh then noticed the steps that led up to the church. He walked up the steps, about twenty in all. He moved slowly, but he was determined and reached the wooden doors. He entered the vestibule of the church and the floor had green carpets. To his left and right were tables filled with various Triune Catholic pamphlets. There was even a bulletin board reminding people that the choir needed members. To his right beyond the tables was a sanctuary with red carpeting and red leather couches. It was a place for people to sit before entering the sacred part of the church for services. Leigh then looked to his left and saw a large vanilla marble staircase. The part of the staircase that went up led to the grand terrace, which was used only during Paschal liturgies and other holy events. The part of the vanilla marble staircase that went down led to a baptismal room, which was no longer used on the side of the church; and farther down the vanilla marble stairs led to the assembly hall and the restrooms.

Leigh then noticed that in the area where he was standing there were three pairs of swinging doors that were made of oak wood and led into the sanctuary of the church. There were also large windows that allowed visitors to see into the church along with a speaker system that allowed visitors to hear the proceedings. Leigh peered through one of the large windows and gazed at the inside of the church which was vast. There were three aisles, one on the southern and northern sides of the church, and a central aisle. All three of these aisles had cherry marble floors. There was also a back aisle for people to get pamphlets, prayer books and candles to be lit in front of the icons of certain saints. In addition, on the northern and southern sides of the sanctuary going down the aisles were various icons attributed to various saints from throughout the Christian world. Since this was a Triune Catholic Church, and Catholic is a Greek word for Universal, naturally there would be saints from different regions of Christianity. On the northern side were different icons stationed down the aisle with a kneeling stand in front of each saint icon along with candles as a tribute to that particular saint. The same arrangement was true for the southern side aisle and the saints devoted there too. Leigh was unable to see, which saints they were, since very large Ionic columns of cherry marble were positioned down the northern and southern aisles. They were closer to the pews and formed space for the aisles between the columns and the shrines to different saints.

Leigh then gazed forward and noticed the altar in the middle of the sanctuary. It was a large vanilla marble altar with a white marble railing running along it, and even a white marble gateway. Beyond it was a wooden iconostasis with gold lining the icons of various saints.