Drosselmeyer: The Watcher's Realm: The Nutcracker Trilogy, #2

By Paul Thompson

For the last five years, Fritz has lived a reclusive, solitary life trying to open the Celestine and save his imprisoned friends. But, during his absence, Ivanov's Home for Orphaned Boys re-opened under new, mysterious owners, children all over the world began to disappear, and a diabolical power is driving the Czar and the Five Kingdoms into a suicidal conflict over gold.

With his brother enlisted for war and the remaining Wizards of The Order bent on revenge, Fritz must foil the Czar's insidious plot to steal gold, forge new alliances, and defeat an enemy unaffected by his magic before everyone he loves is gone forever.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Paul Thompson
• Release date: Jun 22, 2022
• ISBN: 9781737249849

Book preview

Drosselmeyer

The Watcher’s Realm

Copyright © 2022 by House of El Music. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

ISBN: 978-1-7372498-3-2

211 E. Louisiana St. Suite B

McKinney, TX 75069

www.houseofelmusic.com

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Printed in the United States of America.

Dedication

For Greg.

Prologue

Fritz looked down at the spike sticking out from his side. The sounds of swords and clubs on armor blended into the hazy cloud overtaking his vision and dulling his ears.

It was a few seconds later when the first wave of pain hit him like a team of horses. His eyes widened, and his voice stuck in his throat.

It hurt to breathe.

No, Fritz coughed in equal parts determination and desperation. It couldn’t end here. Not when he had finally made progress on saving his fellow apprentices from the Celestine’s crystal walls.

What would happen to them if he died? The thought blazed past the pain snaking through his weakening limbs.

Their faces swirled in front of him, mingling with the pulsing gray morass threatening his consciousness.

Gelé, her icy stare as beautiful and cold as Glacinda, her master.

Sylvia, her warm, effervescent twin, covered in flowers—the same as her master, Sylvia.

Andor, the lovable, deaf giant whose eternal optimism stood in stark contrast to his master, Eric, the wild, Western Wizard.

Marzi.

Fritz swallowed.

Marzi’s dark eyes bored into him, pleading for help.

Faruk’s evil smirk wiped Marzi from his vision, and Fritz felt his eye begin to pop with heated electricity. The treacherous apprentice of Borya, the one who killed Boroda, the tyrant who now held Marzi in his magical clutches.

Fritz gritted his teeth and focused on the spike still plunged into his body.

The darkness wrapped its tendrils around him and began to squeeze shut.

Chapter 1

It starts with a single inconvenience. If men allow it, the rest of their slavery is only a matter of time. Convince them of their inability to resist, and they will join the crusade to decimate their own freedom.

— Palinor, Third Wizard of The Order

I have had it, Drosselmeyer. Cora’s sharp, high pitched reprimand jolted Fritz awake, and he pulled his blankets around his body and searched the room until his vision cleared.

I have absolutely had it! Cora shouted again and threw a pile of laundry on the f

loor. Boroda’s widow wore a simple black dress, her hair was pulled up in a loose bun, and the signs of age were exaggerated around her scowl. I’m done, Drosselmeyer. I can’t keep dealing with this.

Dealing with what? Fritz demanded and grabbed his eye patch from the bed post, slipping it on. The laundry? I told you I can make a spell that…

Not the laundry, Cora interrupted him. This! She pointed at a series of dark bruises on his chest and shoulders and circled her finger around a swollen left cheek. I can’t stay here and watch you destroy your life and body because you can’t cope with grief.

That’s not what I’m doing, Fritz mumbled. He climbed out of his bed, blanket still draped around him, and plopped in a nearby chair. He waved his hand, and a bowl of steaming porridge appeared on the table.

Then what are you doing? Cora pleaded. It’s been five years since Boroda died, Drosselmeyer. I have grieved my husband and let him go. It’s time you do the same.

Fritz shrugged and stirred the bowl of food. This isn’t about Boroda.

She paused and relaxed her rigid posture. You have worked tirelessly to save your friends. The fighting is not going to bring them back.

Fritz slammed the metal spoon in his bowl, ignoring the hot splatters. I’m not ‘fighting,’ Cora, I’m training.

Training? Cora laughed, and an edge of sarcasm laced her outburst. For what? You can’t break the Celestine open with your fist, though Watcher knows, you’ve probably tried that.

Fritz shot up from the table, the blanket falling away from his shoulders, exposing a muscular torso covered in scars and bruises, yellowed with various stages of healing.

I will figure out how to break open the Celestine! I will bring them back! And when I do, I will be ready to fight Faruk. He punctuated each statement with a hard punch. The impact of the successive blows toppled the bowl, and the porridge oozed toward the table’s edge.

He brushed his long, matted curls back to the side, eyed the mess, and stomped over to his closet, leaving the blanket behind. His naked thighs and legs bore similar markings as his torso.

Cora ignored his outburst and turned to look out the window.

She sighed. You aren’t training, Drosselmeyer. You are punishing yourself for something that isn’t your fault, and if you don’t stop, you’re going to kill yourself.

What do you care? Fritz pulled a shirt on and began buttoning it.

I care a lot! Cora snapped back with a pleading yell. You are as close to a son as I have, and I can’t stay here and watch it happen. I’m leaving, Drosselmeyer.

What do you mean, leaving? Where are you going?

I’m going home. Back to my island.

For how long? Fritz was still scowling.

For good, Drosselmeyer, Cora said matter-of-factly. I’m not going to come back.

Fritz folded his arms, leaving his pants half-buttoned. He paused, chewing his lip in concentration. When?

Tomorrow at the latest.

Fritz fought back his temper. Tell me when you want to go, and I will take you. I can travel you anywhere on the island.

No, Cora interjected. I am done with magic. I will find my own way home.

She crossed to him and smoothed his hair with her fingers. Goodbye, Drosselmeyer. When this is over, when you’ve found what you’re looking for, come find me; and if I don’t see you again, always know you have my love.

When Fritz didn’t respond, she turned and left the room.

Fritz grabbed a lantern from a nearby dresser and hurled it against the far wall. He watched the kerosene dribble down the wall, suddenly aware of the pounding headache from his swollen cheek.

Shall I clean that up, sir? Doll asked from his perch on the bedside table.

I don’t care. Fritz growled at the knee-high toy and sat down in a high-backed leather chair near his fireplace. The morning, summer sun streamed through the window, and his head throbbed in response.

How did the fight go, sir? Doll asked again as he hopped off the table and walked over to the dented base of the lantern and righted it.

Fritz knew it was one of many questions he had been enchanted to ask, but he answered the toy as if it were a casual conversation at his favorite cafe in Anadorn. I won, thank you for asking.

Very good, sir, Doll responded and began cleaning up the shards of glass on the floor where the lamp had shattered.

Will you be visiting Master Franz or studying in the library today? Doll dropped the contents from his hands into an already full trash can. The glass bounced off the rubbish and tinkled to the floor.

Fritz ignored the disorder in his room. He had turned off the cleaning spell years ago so his reading and research could continue unhindered by all the tidying up.

Uh… Fritz groaned trying to think over the pain in his temples. I think I’ll visit Franz today.

Very good, sir, Doll remarked. Shall I clean your room while you’re away?

Um…No. Fritz winced and massaged his head.

Will you be fighting again tonight? Doll continued to pick up the pieces of lantern and drop them in the full wastebasket.

No, Fritz quipped then added, And stop asking me questions.

Doll made no comment and continued to clean in short, jerky movements.

Fritz watched Doll work and briefly pondered how he could whittle the toy’s joints to move more smoothly. Boroda had taught Fritz how to carve and had used the toy as an object lesson when demonstrating arm and leg mobility.

Fritz walked to his mirror, took off his eye patch and studied the swelling. He’d taken a hard right hook to the cheek the night before that had nearly finished him. The man who punched him was a quarryman from the Central kingdom and a good fighter. He’d feinted a left, forcing Fritz to turn his head, compensating for his missing eye, and followed through with a left punch that would have dropped anyone else.

Fritz had taken many blows to the face from Boroda during their training sessions. He’d also learned how to take a punch and minimize the damage.

In the end, Fritz had beaten the large man by taking out his legs and delivering a swift hook-kick to his head.

Fritz didn’t usually heal the damage he’d incurred from his violent pastime, but he didn’t want Franz to see him like this. He waved his hand, and the cheek returned to normal size under a swirl of magic. The bruises melted away, the swelling subsided, and a few seconds later, his face looked normal.

Normal, that is, minus the jagged skin over his eye socket and unkempt beard covering his face.

Fritz replaced the patch and finished getting dressed. Good-bye, Doll, he called to the toy and vanished in a puff of smoke. He stepped onto a cobbled driveway just outside a large, three-story house with a red door atop a small stone staircase. The white brick gleamed against the grass lawn, tinting the yard a light, mint green.

Fritz slammed the heavy knocker on the door several times, grateful he’d healed his head. A plump, young maid answered and ushered him inside with a polite bow.

I will get Master Alex, Olga said and, after taking his hat and cape, scurried away. Fritz sighed. His brother, Franz, had been adopted by General Andoyavich and renamed Alexei. The now teenage Alexei had, of late, been insisting on being called Alex, the older, more mature form of the name.

A few moments later, General Pieter Andoyavich walked into the room. His uniformed chest was decorated with lines of medals and ranking bars that clinked as he walked. The bearded general had streaks of gray at his temples but still moved with youthful vigor.

Drosselmeyer, he greeted. It is good to see you.

He motioned to the back of the mansion, his uniform tugging at the small gut beginning to form. It is a beautiful morning. Let’s sit in the garden and have coffee.

Fritz followed him through the ornately decorated house. The General’s wife was known among the elite in the Capitol City for her fashion sense, and the General often joked that he was obliged to continue working so he could pay for her taste in clothes and furniture.

I am afraid that Alex is just on his way out and may not be able to stay long, General Andoyavich said as they sat down. He motioned to a different servant, a gaunt, young man, and a hot pot of coffee was placed on the table between them moments later as if by magic.

Has he remembered anything? Fritz asked.

The General sighed and shooed the servant away with a flick of the wrist.

No. No he hasn’t. The General poured coffee in both cups and handed one to Fritz. And, as we discussed, we aren’t going to ask him anymore. Boroda’s memory spell seems to be permanent. Alex does not remember life as Franz and… He paused. And Anna and I want it to stay that way.

Fritz watched curls of steam rise from his cup. He could feel the heat through the cup and absent-mindedly pictured the spell that would make the liquid boil and vaporize completely in seconds.

The General crossed his leg and looked directly at Fritz. I’ve heard from some of my men that there is a new fighter in the underground circuit. They say he’s quite good.

Oh? Fritz remarked and sipped his coffee.

They say he has a very unique fighting style and wears an eye patch, General Andoyavich continued.

Many men wear eye patches, Fritz said. What’s your point?

My point is: If my men have heard of you, it isn’t long before the Czar hears of you. If he finds you and orders me to kill you, there isn’t much I can do to stop that.

Would you kill me? Fritz asked.

No, I wouldn’t, General Andoyavich said after a few moments’ hesitation. However, if the Czar threatened Alex… His voice trailed off.

Fritz glanced up. Is my brother still safe?

The General leaned back. Yes. No one knows your connection, I am sure of it; but if you want to continue seeing Alex and…and…and doing whatever it is that you do, you need to keep a lower profile.

Fritz brushed his hair back and stared forward. I don’t fear Nicholaus. If he finds me, I will travel away. I am more concerned about Franz…Alex, and his safety.

What about me? Alex said from the doorway.

Nothing, General Andoyavich answered and stood up. Look at my boy. Dressed and ready.

Fritz stood and turned around to face Franz. His breath caught.

Franz was tall and lean like Fritz. His blond, curly hair was slicked back, and his green eyes flashed with pride and admiration at his father’s praise. He wore an identical uniform to the General, save the awards and decorations. When Franz looked over and saw Fritz, his smile faded.

Mr. Drosselmeyer. I didn’t know you were here.

Fritz straightened, returning the polite coldness of his brother. Yes. I was just coming by to say hello to you.

I got your gift this morning, Franz said with a slight bow. Thank you.

What gift? General Andoyavich asked.

A wooden sword, Franz answered. It is ornately carved. A work of art, really. For a toy, that is.

Andoyavich chuckled and patted the hilt of a shiny silver cutlass at Franz’s side. My son is beyond toy swords, Mr. Drosselmeyer, but we thank you for your gift nonetheless.

A blush crept into Fritz’s cheek. I sometimes forget that children grow up.

I am growing up at the same speed your hair is growing long, Franz chided.

Alexei! Andoyavich quipped with a stern look.

He is right, General, Fritz quickly added. I have been busy of late, and my appearance has been let go. I am due for a cut soon. We cannot expect children to have the manners of adults.

Franz stiffened at the term children, but Fritz continued.

Tell me, Alex, what is the uniform and sword for?

I am enrolled in the Czar’s youth soldier program, he answered with a swelled chest. I have been chosen to train for military service this summer as well as after school during the year. When I enlist after I graduate, I will be an officer.

Fritz scowled. Military? Not for fighting, I hope.

I’m not afraid, Mr. Drosselmeyer, Franz retorted, the disdain clear in his eyes. Safety is the concern of women and cowards.

Alex! the General barked, and the boy wilted at his father’s reprimand.

Fritz held up his hand to the General. I’m sure he meant nothing by it.

At that moment, Anna glided into the room. Her auburn hair was pulled up on her head, and her light green dress seemed to float in gauzy ribbons around her. Mr. Drosselmeyer! Welcome. I didn’t know you were here or else I would have come sooner.

Fritz bowed to her as the General kissed her hand.

I’m afraid I can’t stay, either. I need to take Alexei to the…

Mom! Franz said through gritted teeth.

She grimaced and embraced her son. I’m sorry. I need to take Alex to the palace and say goodbye to my little boy for an entire week.

Franz struggled against his mother’s affections as Fritz looked on, fighting back his own urge to embrace the boy.

Your carriage is ready, ma’am, an older male servant announced from the doorway.

Thank you, Sergei, Anna called to him. Alex, say goodbye to your father, although you may see him around the palace from time to time. And, for Watcher’s sake, say goodbye to me, for I love you the most.

She hugged him again and turned to Fritz. Are you staying long? Will you be here when I return?

No, ma’am, Fritz said and bowed again. I am leaving now as well. I have a busy schedule today and must be going.

Mr. Drosselmeyer, Franz said and extended his hand.

Fritz shook it and watched him hug his family.

When Franz and Anna had left, the General put his hand on Fritz’s shoulder and caged his words with careful precision. Perhaps it is time that you give him the space he needs to grow up and be his own man. He may never remember you as a brother but, in time, he may come to love you as one.

Fritz faced General Andoyavich and tilted his head forward. If it keeps him safe, I will do what you think is best for Fr…Alex.

The General raised his eyebrows and shrugged. With kids, who can tell what is the best thing for them? I can only guess, same as you; and I think some space and time away would be good for him—and you.

Fritz waved his hand, and his hat and cape appeared, draped over his arm. He put on both, wished the General a good day and vanished in a puff of smoke.

Chapter 2

Cora! Fritz’s voice echoed off the stone floors of the cathedral entryway. He waited for a response and, after hearing none, traveled to the garden and shouted again.

Cora? Are you here?

Birds chirped from a nearby tree and insects buzzed in the afternoon sun. The old fountain in the center of the garden dribbled a murky stream of water into a moss-lined basin—another byproduct of the cleaning spell being turned off—but Cora did not respond.

Fritz huffed a long, belabored breath and walked back inside.

Cora had gone. He didn’t blame her. He hadn’t been the easiest person to live with for the past five years. The first three years had been non-stop reading and studying. Fritz had read or skimmed every book in the library and had driven O’Dentry mad trying to acquire more on the subject of Celestines and ancient magic.

There weren’t many to be had and even fewer for sale. The ones Fritz was able to get were no help. In short, the wizarding world didn’t seem to care about the strange magic surrounding Celestines.

Edward, his friend from school, had been a constant boon the whole time. He had invited Fritz to dinner, listened to him process his grief—albeit, with many details left out—and never pushed for more information than he was given. It was Edward who had introduced him to the Underground, a large basement under Shale’s Pub where men fought each other, no rules other than don’t kill on purpose. Even that rule was occasionally breached.

It was supposed to be a fun night out drinking with his fellow platoon, but Fritz had been enamored of the grisly ring. He went back the next week and signed up to fight, using the name Ilyich.

He’d lost but felt alive for the first time since Boroda’s death and Marzi’s captivity. The physical pain was a bittersweet reminder of his training sessions with Boroda, and the next three fights, he purposefully took blows just to feel the pop of his nose breaking or the taste of blood from his lip splitting.

The crowd had lost interest in seeing him fight, so he began to win, and their cheers soaked into his blood like heroine from an apothecary’s needle.

Cora had warned him against fighting, but he didn’t listen. Edward had moved back to the Southern Kingdom to begin his military service, and the only place that offered Fritz sanctuary from his troubled mind was the Underground.

Fritz snapped out of his reverie and realized he was in the kitchen. It was Cora’s domain, and she kept it spotless. There was a pile of letters on the table and a piece of paper sitting on top of the stack.

Fritz picked up the paper.

My Dear Drosselmeyer,

I am gone. I would have loved to have had a final meal or a celebration of our time together and our mutual love for Boroda, but there is no place for celebration in your heart. I pray to the Watcher that one day there will be cause for celebration and room in your heart to embrace it. Until then, may the blessings of the Watcher be on you.

Cora

P.S.—The groceries haven’t been delivered in several days, so I’ve left a final meal for you from whatever I could find. Please remember to eat.

Fritz wiped his eye and set the paper down. Please remember to eat. It had been Cora’s constant reminder to him those first three years.

The loneliness hit him, and he traveled to his bedroom, stumbling over books and piles of dirty clothes as soon as he stepped out of his traveling mist.

He swore under his breath and pulled his cape and hat off, traveling them to his closet in a

Reviews for Drosselmeyer

[Michelle Strong · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

This 2nd book in the trilogy picks up from the last book at a later date, but flows so easily. The author catches the reader up without rehashing the previous book. The story is fast paced and draws the reader in quickly.