The Cooking Mage & The Parchment Prankster Part Two

By Eric Alan Westfall

Despite the still-fogged future, the Seers have finally Seen if the foreseen four get together, it’ll be in Berlin, on 19 July 1890, at the Crown Prince’s birthday ball.

The conspirators’ 15 July to-do list is simple. On or before the 19th: (1) kill the Prince, (2) kill Lord Mouse, and (4) stop the dancing. Or at least succeed with one. Oh, and ignore (3) since they haven’t figured out which saint.

Revisit a marvelous alternate world of magick and technology, where the every-twenty-years Gunpowder Treaty Renewal Conference is imminent. There are ongoing plots, both big and not-as-big, agents working under the sheets, Saint Brunhilde of the Blade, Saint Sibast (no, not the pretty one with bondage and arrows), a well-hidden collection of literature (?) for one-hand reading, including drawbooks with anatomically accurate artistry inside, a challenge to make “open, says me” work, the vigorous violation of several Official Secrets Acts, a snarky romance between an Earl and a Prince, a surprise engagement, Mozart and the Guards, the Blue Danube is hummed with perfect pitch following a brief discussion about who leads, a flurry of letters to a duke, a prat, an ambassador, an Inquisitor, and a prisoner in a London cell, plus a very private competition to determine the best at point penetrating and driving it home...

And the Grand Ballroom Battle, as the newspapers called it.

There’s a definite HEA, and although it doesn’t fully happen until Part Three, there’s lots of fun along the way for a Prince and his Mouse (although said Mouse thinks it’s the other way round).

Special Preorder Price Goes Up A Dollar After Part Three Release Date:

Part One:September 7, 2022 (99,071 words of story)
Part Two:September 14, 2022 (114,098 words of story)
Part Three:September 21, 2022 (146,996 words of story)

• Language: English
• Publisher: Eric Alan Westfall
• Release date: Sep 14, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005966935

Book preview

A Hearty Round of Cyber-Applause:

SPECIAL THANKS TO KARRIE JAX FOR THE BRILLIANT TRILOGY COVERS

About the only thing I could say to Karrie when I first got in touch with her about what was supposed to be the cover for a single book, was, Uh, well, I think it oughta maybe suggest something magickal is gonna happen, and uh, maybe there should be a scroll and stuff, you know, because of the parchment thingie?

And as she has always done, she took my customary articulate explanation of what I wanted (see above), and turned it into an incredible, marvelous, perfect cover. And when one exploded into three, she came through again.

I am honored to benefit from Karrie’s artistic talent. You can reach her at [e-mail]

SPECIAL THANKS TO CATHERINE DAIR, MAPMAKER EXTRAORDINAIRE

Somehow, Catherine Dair took my squiggly lines and notes and turned them into the three extraordinary maps you will see in each of the books. About this talented lady:

Catherine Dair juggles being a mom with her alter ego, a super ninja illustrator. She gets the giddy pleasure of making fun designs for all kinds of fascinating clients. Creating art is her big happy place, whether it be a book cover for a romance novel, steampunk pirates or a smiling dragon. In her spare time, Catherine creates the popular web comic Skip and Pip as well as drawing all sorts of cute things that just make her happy in a crazy world. She gave up sleep because she lacks time for that nonsense.

She can be found at either www.catherinedair.com or skipandpip.com.

A SPECIAL THANKS TO KAJE HARPER

My gratitude to the talented Kaje Harper for her patience and her helpful responses to my ongoing Uh, wadda ya think about... during the process of getting this done. Check the wide range of her books out at www.kajeharper.com, or at any of them fine retailers all over the place!

BETA READERS

My thanks to Art, Delores, and Lisabet (first name alphabetical order!) from ERWA for their help and advice when this was all getting started. And to Nicole for her early beta reads and thoughtful words.

AND A CLOSING SPECIAL THANKS TO KESTREL

Kestrel undertook the often-times (I’m quite sure) arduous task of reading all the words of all three volumes, having volunteered to be gently brutal with her responses and suggestions. She was! She was also professional, clever, creative, and insightful.

Why, she even coined the word mutterance for Part Two—the Earl is going to ensure it’s included in the next edition of the O.D.E.—and graciously allowed the author to stea...borrow it.

Whatever quality this trilogy has (author refrains from offering an opinion), the books are far better than they would have been without her help.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

A Hearty Round Of Cyber-Applause

An Important Note On Differing History, Differing Language(s).

Map of Europe And The Mediterranean, 1890

Map Of North America, 1890

Map Of The Earldom Of Jamaica, 1890

CHAPTERS

16 July 1890. Berlin. Half Midnight. The Great Palace. A Mouse And Mountain Hallway Meeting, And A Royal Bedroom.

16 July 1890. Berlin. 9:00 a.m. Embassy of Jamaica, And The Great Palace, Later.

16 July 1890. Berlin. Early Afternoon. The Great Palace. The Royal Stables.

17 July 1890. Early Morning. A Series Of Letters To Be Sent By Diplomatic Pouch To The Jamaican Embassy in London.

17 July 1890. Berlin. Shortly Before Noon. The Great Palace. The Grand Staircase.

17 July 1890. Berlin. Late Afternoon. The Great Palace. The King’s Private Office.

18 July 1890. Berlin. Mid-Morning. The Great Palace. The Earl Of Jamaica’s Bedroom. A Matter Of Mirrors.

18 July 1890. Berlin. 10:15 p.m. The Great Palace. The Crown Prince’s Suite.

19 July 1890. Berlin. Moderately Early In The Morning. The Great Palace. The Seneschal’s Office, And Elsewhere.

19 July 1890. Berlin. Early Evening. The Great Palace. Outside The Crown Prince’s Suite, And Inside, And Back To The Wing For Visiting Rulers And Royalty.

19 July 1890. Berlin. Flashes & Fragments, Moments & Minutes (1). The Great Palace. The Grand Ballroom And Elsewhere.

19 July 1890. Berlin. Flashes & Fragments, Moments & Minutes (2). The Great Palace. The Grand Ballroom And Elsewhere.

19 July 1890. Berlin. Flashes & Fragments, Moments & Minutes (3). The Great Palace. The Grand Ballroom And Elsewhere.

19 July 1890. Berlin. Flashes & Fragments, Moments & Minutes (4). The Great Palace. The Grand Ballroom And Elsewhere.

19 July 1890. Berlin. Flashes & Fragments, Moments & Minutes (5). The Great Palace. The Grand Ballroom And Elsewhere.

19 July 1890. Berlin. Flashes & Fragments, Moments & Minutes (6). The Great Palace. The Grand Ballroom And Elsewhere.

19 July 1890. Berlin. Flashes & Fragments, Moments & Minutes (7). The Great Palace. The Grand Ballroom And Elsewhere.

19 July 1890. Berlin. Flashes & Fragments, Moments & Minutes (8). The Great Palace. The Grand Ballroom And Elsewhere.

In The Midst Of Terror, In A Time Of Chaos, There Will Be Heroes. (19 July 1890. Berlin. Flashes & Fragments, Moments & Minutes (9). The Great Palace. The Grand Ballroom And Elsewhere.)

19 July 1890. Berlin. Flashes & Fragments, Moments & Minutes (10). The Great Palace. The Grand Ballroom And Elsewhere.

19 & 20 July 1890. Berlin. Flashes & Fragments, Moments & Minutes (11). The Great Palace. The Grand Ballroom And Elsewhere.

20 July 1890. Berlin. 11:40 a.m. And Into The Afternoon. The Great Palace. Final Preparations For Lifting The Great Magick.

20 July 1890. Berlin. Afternoon Into Early Evening. The Great Palace. Inside And Out. The Great Magick Is Lifted.

A Glance Back, At 17 July 1890. Near Midnight. Der Faßbinder Mit Dem Drachen (The Flagon With The Dragon).

20 July 1890. Berlin. 6:15 p.m. Onward. Paolo’s Flat (No. 230) At Mietskaserne 1.

20 July 1890. Berlin. 7:30 p.m. The Great Palace. Georg’s Private Office.

21 July 1890. 7:00 a.m. Der Königlicher Schnellzug Berlin-Hamburg (The Royal Berlin-Hamburg Express). The First Class Compartment.

21 July 1890. Berlin. 10:00 a.m. The Great Palace. The Promised Press Conference, In The Throne Room Where Certain Credentials Were Presented.

21 July 1890. Berlin. 3:45 p.m. The Royal Greyhound.

21 July 1890. Berlin. 9:45 p.m. The British Embassy.

22 July 1890. Berlin. 8:00 a.m. The British Embassy. The Start Of A Meeting Which Doesn’t Last Long At All.

22 July 1890. Berlin. 3:30 p.m. The British Embassy. The Start Of A Longer Meeting Than The Morning Meeting.

23 July 1890. Berlin. Mid-Morning. The British Embassy. The Inquisitor-General Receives A Pair Of Telegrams.

23 July 1890. Berlin. Shortly After 1:00 p.m. The Great Palace. At The Gates (Again) And Then The Suite For Visiting Royalty And Rulers. The Earl of Jamaica Receives A Note.

The Story Of Mouse And Georg Continues And Ends (Well, Of Course) In Part Three, Where The First Chapter Answers A Key Question: Will There Be Deeds Of Derring-Do, Derring-Don’t Or Derring-Maybe At The Swiss Embassy?

Author’s Bio

Other Books By Eric Alan Westfall

EUROPE AND THE MEDITERRANEAN, 1890

1       Kingdom of Prussia and Saxony

2       United Kingdom of Great Britain, Ireland, and the American Duchies

3       Kingdom of Greece

4       Kingdom of Norway and Sweden

5       Kingdom of Denmark

6       Republic of France

7       Kingdom of Spain

8       Kingdom of Portugal

9       Duchy of Belgium

10      Kingdom of the Netherlands

11      Confederation of Switzerland

12      Kingdom of Italy

13      Grand Duchy of Corsica-Sardinia

14      Grand Duchy of Luxembourg

15      Principality of Romania

16      Principality of Bulgaria

17      Kingdom of Serbia

18      Grand Duchy of Sicily

19      Empire of Austria-Hungary

A      Empire of All The Russias

B      Osmanli Empire

C      Sultanate of Morocco

D      Emirate of Tunisia

E      Kingdom of Egypt

F      Emirate of Jebel Shammar

NORTH AMERICA, 1890

1      United Kingdom, American Duchy of New York

2      United Kingdom, American Duchy of the Great Lakes

3      United Kingdom, American Duchy of Pennsylvania

4      United Kingdom, American Duchy of Virginia

5      United Kingdom, American Duchy of Carolina

6      United Kingdom, American Duchy of Georgia

A      Native American Alliance

B      Grand Duchy of California

C      Marquisate of New Mexico

D      Grand Duchy of Texas

E      Confederation of Canada

F      Reino de México (Kingdom of Mexico)

THE EARLDOM OF JAMAICA, 1890

A      American Duchy of Georgia

B      Reino de México (Kingdom of Mexico)

C      República de Colombia (Republic of Colombia)

D      Império do Brasil (Empire of Brazil)

The Earldom of Jamaica consists of all the islands on the map above, with the exception of those closest to the coast of the Empire of Brazil.

The five major islands are Jamaica itself (with the capital at Kingstown), Cuba, Haiti, Borikén, and Trinidad.

As noted above, Gold Island is magickally hidden for obvious reasons, and appears on no maps.

An Important Note On Differing History, Differing Language(s).

An Even More Important Note From The Author:

If you’ve enjoyed The Cooking Mage & The Parchment Prankster enough to have bought this second volume of the trilogy: Thanks! And since there’s nothing new here, unless you want to refresh your recollection, feel free to skip ahead to a Mouse and Mountain meeting at half-midnight.

This trilogy—a true tale—takes place between 13 September 1870 and 18 July 1891, in a world similar to yours, but with two major differences.

First is the reality magick works alongside technology, sometimes complementing it, sometimes supplanting it.

Second is the fact those who wield the various forms of magick are an accepted minority of the world’s population, including Europe, where most of these events take place.

Despite the existence of magick, the history of your world and this world were remarkably similar up to the point of divergence: the Battle of Culloden. Here, however, there had been a centuries-long tacit agreement throughout Europe banning the use of gunpowder weapons in war. The agreement ended on 16 April 1746.

As in your world, the English defeated the rebellious Jacobites, but the details of how the battle was fought, how many died, and how they died are different. As was the most significant political outcome, which in this world was the signing of the Gunpowder Treaty of 1750—a treaty magickally barring the use of gunpowder weapons in war.

If you are re-reading this Note and need recollection refreshment, please review the chapter in Part One which summarizes the history of the Treaty.

You will discover there are various people in this world, mentioned in one or more volumes of the trilogy, who have the same names as important personages in your history books. Please remember they can’t be possibly be the same people, considering they grew up in a world where magick and technology co-exist.

As both your and our great L. Frank Baum once (somewhat) said: You all aren’t in Kansas any more.

With reference to language, these volumes have been written in the English of the United Kingdom of Great Britain, Ireland, and the American Duchies, although it may lean toward some of the peculiarities of the English spoken in the American Duchies.

However, there are multiple words and phrases throughout the books which appear to be German (as you call it), and which are usually translated for your convenience. Those of you who are fluent in your German may believe some or all of those words and phrases are not proper German. Some of you may also form the same opinion as to properness relating to the use here of words and phrases in French or other languages.

Permit me to be the first to agree with you. They aren’t proper German, or French, et cetera. The German words and phrases about which you might have concerns are in fact in the language written and spoken in the Kingdom of Prussia and Saxony in 1890, and are therefore entirely correct. The same is true for the language of the Republic of France in our 1890. And any other languages.

Really. I checked with both Mouse and Georg, and they assure me all those words and phrases are in exceedingly excellent and proper Prussian, as verified by Die Übersetzungsabteilung des Königlichen Diplomatischen Dienstes (the Translation Department of the Royal Diplomatic Service). The words and phrases in languages other than English have the same verification.

With respect to the accuracy of the English, what with my having something of a connection to certain high officials in the Inquisition of the United Kingdom, the volumes have been reviewed with all the care one would expect from a department entrusted with the security of the Crown and the Realm. I have been assured grammatical usage, punctuation, spelling, capitalization, hyphenation, and so forth, are in complete compliance with the standards of TOMOS (The Oxford Manual of Style, 3rd ed. [Oxford: Royal Oxford Press, 1885]).

A last note related to grammar: Where, on very rare occasions during the writing of this true tale, the author has been uncertain whether a particular word is being used in strict accordance with its correct definition, the author has verified both definition and usage through the preeminent authority on the subject: The Oxford Historical Dictionary of the English Language, 1st ed. (Oxford: Royal Oxford Press, 1884).

Eric

p.s. As the dictionary is referenced throughout these tomes, the standard short version of the full title is most often used: O.D.E. I recognize the Royal Oxford Press originally recommended the abbreviation of O.H.D., with the intent the letters be individually pronounced. However, as some Tonnish wags almost immediately began pronouncing it to rhyme with odd—something entirely inconsistent with the scholarly excellence of the work—the publisher thereafter decided the short version of the title should be the Oxford Dictionary of English, or O.D.E. An ode to the marvelous English language is, of course, far better than odd.

16 July 1890. Berlin.

Half-Midnight. The Great Palace.

A Mouse and Mountain Hallway Meeting, And A Royal Bedroom.

Half-midnight.

If he’d known last night he was going to meet Georg at the same location less than twenty-four hours later, and if he’d had pen and paper in his dressing gown—he was never again going anywhere out of his bed and out of his rooms without both in his possession, no matter where he was—he could have used the light of the mage globe to make a just-in-case trail of parchment bread crumbs to stick on the walls.

Georg had a reason for suggesting they meet so late, a reason Mouse thought—hoped—he knew. He didn’t know why he felt he’d be cheating if he used a light to get here, but to his surprise, his Mousical bragging turned out to be a true brag instead of a false brag. He found his way to what he was sure the precise spot, with no difficulty.

Which wasn’t anything magickal. At all.

And it was, of course, no more than the way things usually went, for Georg to arrive with a stealth used only by talented battle mages, or excellent thieves. An arrival coinciding with Mouse confiding to himself, I’m glad it wasn’t the Crown Prince of the Netherlands who was having a birthday, after all.

There was a fortunately soft urk! of surprise at the whispered Why? which followed the all. The urk!-accompanying half-jump away might have led to a full fall on a Mousical arse, but large hands unerringly grabbed him, held him until he got his balance back, and to Mouse’s regret, let him go.

Mouse turned so they were facing each other, and if he moved a little, only a little, they’d be touching. But he might have misunderstood earlier words and tones, and touching wasn’t on the menu for this late-night meal, or snack, or whatever it was. He stayed still while answering.

His voice was like Georg’s, soft so only they could hear, unless another night-time prowler of Palace halls crept up on them with Georg-style efficiency and noiselessness.

Well, I’ve always thought, even though I’m a third son and second spare, I should at least have had a ‘Little Tour’ when I turned twenty-one. Perhaps Lisbon, Madrid, Paris, home. My oldest brother—

Harry the prat?

Georg’s knowledge both surprised and delighted Mouse. Yes. Harry had the Grand Tour. All the capitals and major cities in Europe, including Amsterdam. I doubt, though, he quite understood what the red-light district in Amsterdam was for. He probably still doesn’t.

The two shared a chuckle, before Mouse reluctantly acknowledged a reasonable number of Harry’s brags about his exploits with women were probably true, even if most weren’t.

Mouse sighed. "So when I knew instead of going somewhere fun to celebrate a prince’s birthday—although I don’t know whether the Netherlands has a prince—"

They do. He’s six. His sister, all of twelve, is the queen, so technically he’s the Crown Prince, until she marries and has a child.

"Ah. Well, not knowing these important facts I might, only might, you understand, have lamented the birthday ball wasn’t in Amsterdam, where red lights cluster together and cast a glow over several city blocks. Instead, I was being sent to Berlin..."

Mouse paused, wishing Georg could see his Mousical, mischievous grin. "Although I have heard Berlin is a red-light district. Ah...other than inside the Great Palace."

Georg laughed and Mouse joined, their laughter quiet, limited to the tight space around where they were standing. Though they were still not as close as they had been last night.

Both would have been surprised to learn they were simultaneously thinking Deities-damn it about the lack of closeness.

Georg spoke after a considering pause. Like recognizing like once again. Do you know, my dear Lord Mouse, I think I suspect you might prefer a Berlin district without red lights...but far more interesting.

Um, you aren’t sure?

What?

"Well, you said you ‘thought’ you suspected I might like this Berlin district, which means you don’t know for sure whether you do or don’t ‘suspect’ I might like it, thus my question. Which obviously leads me to wonder what you need to know, in order to be sure you suspect I’ll like it. Plus, what more do you need to know to make a final decision on whether the suspicion is correct? Or not. If you see what I mean, well, in this dark you can’t ‘see,’ but you do follow, don’t you?"

David wasn’t sure whether he’d made a mistake in letting Mouse out for that speech.

Apparently it wasn’t a mistake. "Ah. Well, Lord Mouse, on further thought, while I do acknowledge there hasn’t been a great deal of time between your question and this response, I’m a very fast thinker, so I not only think I have such suspicions, I in fact have them. Or rather, I had such suspicions, because I’ve now concluded you would enjoy the district I’m talking about."

A response worthy of a Mouse! Why, whatever do you mean, Your Highness?

Georg grinned. "Well, first, I suspect you’re batting your eyelashes in a way which, if I could see said batting, would lead me to decide it isn’t a truly good look for you. And second, there is a certain area of Berlin where the bars and taverns have a...certain clientele. It’s not one of the capital’s finest areas in the view of many, ah, snobs and conservatives, which is say, most of the nobility, the wealthy, and other persons of prominence, including those for whom expressing such a view is impure hypocrisy.

In this area, only men are allowed in the bars and taverns. Men of a particular persuasion. And some of those establishments—many of them, or so I have heard, having no personal knowledge, naturally—have darkrooms.

There was a Mousical gulp, followed by, Now, now, Your Highness, if you are going to express your disbelief in the effectiveness of my eyelash-batting, despite the present invisibility of my eyes, you must—I insist—allow me to express my disbelief in what you just said.

"You’d disbelieve the word, the very word of the Crown Prince of Prussia and Saxony, however informally given?"

I would. A Crown Prince of your perspicacity, with all of the Kingdom’s resources available to you, including, I have no doubt, your...

A short Mousical pause. "Well, I’m not sure what you call them. In England, we’re open and obvious. Everyone knows the Inquisition is the Crown’s security service. So do you call your equivalent the Royal Secret Police, the, ah, Königlicher Geheimdienst, or the Royal Security Service, the Königlicher Sicherheitsdienst?"

Excellent pronunciation for a—what do you occasionally call yourselves? Ah. Yes.—a Brit. Your fellow subjects, when over here, tend to use either shouting in English, or very, very slow enunciation of their words, also in English, as a substitute for learning even a bit of our language.

Mouse grinned. I admit, but only in the admirable privacy of this public Palace hallway, most of us Brits are indeed that bad. But not all of us. And, in truth, those from the American Duchies are much worse than the England-born.

Yes, yes, I will agree you made the effort to speak proper Prussian. Do you feel better now?

Much.

But you were on a verbal journey to some point, and you don’t appear to have reached it. Giving up before achieving your goal?

"Your Highness! Casting aspersions on the stubbornness, doggedness, and tenacity of Brits? I am shocked. Truly shocked! But, I’ll let it pass. My point, Your Highness, should be clear. With all your resources, and your own need to know facts, not rumors and gossip, I am confident you have investigated—thoroughly investigated—at least one of those establishments, along with its darkroom. Indeed, I am confident your quest for knowledge would have led you to investigate more than one such establishment. Over time...perhaps all of them in this district?

I only ask, you see, being entirely innocent of such places. Having only, er, read about them.

Mouse flushed, again grateful for the darkness, realizing he’d admitted reading...stories about men having sex with men in darkrooms.

An admission which meant either one-hand novels, or short books, not really books, more like a chapter, neither of which made any pretense at literary quality, or being anything more than what they were: words on paper to arouse the reader to a vigorous stroking climax.

And a broad definition of reading would encompass the drawbooks in the collection so well-hidden in his flat, with their explicit artwork, requiring few words, but there were still words, so that was reading. Wasn’t it? A combination perhaps even more effective than words alone in achieving the reader’s—viewer’s?—goal.

Of course, whether chapter books or drawbooks were better when fast was at issue, depended on his mood at the moment. Sometimes he alternated between them in the same stroke session—awkward, but he’d done it often enough he’d become quite good at the dual book approach to successful stroking.

However, here in the dark, Mouse wasn’t going to allow his eagerness to see and experience what he had only read about become visibly rampant. Although his cock was making a valiant effort at rampantness, he was holding it back. Which made him only a little thankful Georg wasn’t close enough to feel any imminent rampantness, because if he was and did, he would immediately thereafter have felt Mouse’s full-on rampant.

He waited with some unease for Georg’s response. A response he was certain Georg was being deliberately slow in making. "Hmmm. Do you prefer chapter books or drawbooks? If I’m not out investigating, whether one or the other is more...effective, varies with my mood."

A much larger Mousical gulp was gulped. M-my preference also varies with m-m-my...moods, Your Highness.

Ah. It’s interesting to note how, when you are discussing chapter books and drawbooks, it seems, though I cannot see to be certain, a good part of your blood supply must drain south, resulting in memory impediments. You do recall my name, don’t you? Let me help. Spell it out with me. G—

Mouse gently slapped where he thought Georg’s stomach was, all rippled and ridged beneath whatever he was wearing, which, David realized when the slap landed, didn’t seem like a lot. More a thin shirt so tight if it was visible it would show each of all those ripples and ridges. Mouse kept his current gulp silent.

Yes, yes, I know, your Georgness. And I’m David, so my southern parts don’t have all the blood.

An honor to meet you, again.

Likewise.

"And let me assure you, our entire conversation has been well-warded. Not even die Geheimpolizei can get through those wards. And while your guesses and pronunciations were good, the monarch who established them preferred calling them what they are, the Secret Police."

Excellent. Because, of course, it was my greatest fear a late-night conversation, in a dark hallway, between a temporary British diplomat who is also the Earl of Jamaica, and the Prussian Crown Prince, might draw the adverse attention of your equivalent of the Inquisition, particularly when we are discussing...

Georg interrupted the trailed-away silence. My dear David, knowing with certainty you, we, can’t be heard, you’re hesitant to use the words?

David’s shoulders squared away. And if thrusting his shoulders back for squaring away meant the bulge below was thrust princeward, that was nothing more than...happenstance. Especially since no touching resulted from said thrust.

Deities-damn it.

"Not hesitant, Georg, only continuing the circumspection of our conversation, in which we were discussing, through innuendo and careful phrasing, the establishments in Berlin, an apparently large number of such establishments, where men can fuck and suck and do other things in the public privacy of a very dark room."

If asked, David would definitely deny there was a hint of a so there when he finished. Fortunately for being tested on his ability to believably lie about any so thereness, he wasn’t asked.

David couldn’t be certain, the way Georg moved so stealthily, but he rather thought Georg was closer than he was before, with his own bulge—how could he not be bulging when they were discussing darkrooms in the dark?—close. Perhaps not even a silly millimeter apart, as Prussians measured...things.

Which led Mouse to a wonderfully distracting thought. If their bulges touched, it wouldn’t be bulge touching bulge, given the disparity of their heights, but bulge touching a non-bulge body part. Mouse could get behind that, so to speak.

"Did you know I both speak and read English fluently? With the great amount of luggage accompanying you on this trip, all of it having diplomatic immunity—a right you could have waived as you did before, but didn’t, this time around—is it possible you brought some interesting literature with you, in case you found yourself unable to investigate all Berlin offers regarding such establishments? Or my city’s general red-lightedness?"

"Is this a you-show-me-yours-I-show-you-mine’ offer? While most of the Ton doesn’t care if their sons know only enough Prussian to get by, English being the far superior language, even the least of my father’s spares was required to be fluent in both. Despite, of course, the sometimes stated ducal expectation said least spare would never have any use for the knowledge of the lesser language.

"So while I was taught to speak and read Prussian with reasonable fluency, given my lack of practice, I’m not sure I have the fluency needed to fully appreciate, and get the most out of, your Prussian chapter books. Although I am confident of my ability to fully appreciate any of your drawbooks."

Yes, David, I made such an offer.

Except I have nothing to offer in return. Realizing the possibility of misconstruing, as their bulges had taken it upon themselves to decide bulges should be touching the adjacent body somewhere, and had acted upon the decision, and also being sure Georg was doing the fucking lift-one-eyebrow thing in the rarefied dark heights, David, or perhaps Mouse, went on. I was too cowardly to take the risk of traveling with all or any part of my...collection. Even with diplomatic immunity.

Then it behooves me to share mine with you. Especially those I have in English. Don’t you think?

David’s dick went beyond bulge, and lurched into full rampantness at the mental image of the two of them, each holding a one-hand chapter book, or drawbook, while the hand they preferred for stroking, was...hard at work. All while their eyes moved back and forth between the words or images or both which were making them hard, and the pair of pricks drooling—David hoped there would be drooling, he liked drooling—pre-come. Plus the greater effectiveness in producing and maintaining stiff and leaking status resulting from watching another man wank. Or so he’d assumed and presumed, as he’d never experienced it.

I...I do. Uh. Think that.

Come with me. With surprising accuracy, Georg’s hand found Mouse’s and intertwined their fingers. And I do mean it in all possible senses of the word.

Georg pretended he didn’t hear the slight, Mousical gulp.

He led the way the few steps needed to get them around the corner whose...cornerness had precipitated the original collision, and was now leading them to what he hoped would be a fair amount, if not a great amount of coming and going. Far, far more of the former than the latter, of course. And not only for this night.

Even with their hands entwined, it surprised Georg to realize he was certain he’d be able to sense when David was near him, not only in his personal space, like now, but simply near. It was the same sense he had, the same awareness, of the positions of each of his Private Guards when they were actively guarding him in public, as opposed to the more passive guarding when he was in a fixed position within the Palace. Odd. He’d think about it tomorrow. Or the day after. Or not.

For now, the Crown Prince prick was demanding action, and he was most willing to surrender to the demand. He and his cock were confident David’s mouth, and better yet, his ass, would accommodate their demands. At least twice.

And it wouldn’t be in hiding, in a darkroom, where his face was ever invisible. He wouldn’t insult David by making his bedroom dark. Or any more dim than ordinary—unscarred ordinary—seduction and sex might require.

David had looked at him from the moment the majordomo announced him, through all of the aftermath, including the presentation of his credentials as Earl of Jamaica, and there was no flinching, no quick look and averted eyes. He had such beautiful eyes. They were a dark, dark brown, odd in a British face but just right for his.

And whether it had been clear to anyone else in the throne room, it had been clear to Georg. David either didn’t notice the scars and the eye—not possible!—or he didn’t care, looking at the man behind, beneath, the disfigurement.

Georg slowed, stopped, avoiding the temptation to make the stop abrupt so David would bump into him. So Lord Mouse’s impressive bulge might brush against him again. He raised his right hand to a height most would find it difficult to reach, and played his fingertips in a pattern across a particular space. The panel slid to one side.

He placed his left hand across the slot where the panel slid into the wall, much as someone might place a hand to hold a door open for him—Crown Princes, he was told at an early age, with severity, never held doors for anyone—so the magick would know not to close immediately.

After you, David. He tugged David forward. Although their eyes had adjusted to what little light there was in the Palace halls at night, in area not generally traveled, the door appeared to lead into greater darkness. David could not help the renewed thought that in light, so to speak, of the effectiveness of the Royal Guards in keeping unauthorized people out of the Palace, the King clearly saw no need to spend the money to keep every area well-lit.

David only paused for a second before stepping through, tossing the words over his shoulder. "I can see you wanting to admire my arse because it’s worthy of admiration, but I can’t see you seeing it in the darkness."

Georg couldn’t help the snicker as he used his right hand to nudge David a little farther in, stepped inside himself, and the panel slid shut. The mage lights came on. Not bright, lest light leak through an unexpected crack. A sufficiency of light for arse admiration, Georg commented, emphasizing the odd British pronunciation, but it would be David benefited from arse admiration positioning, since Georg had to lead the way.

Arse admiration at your command, your...Georgness.

Some twists and turns occurred, with arse admiration being a constant, but without such close attention a Mouse might stumble over his own feet, and fall, drooling, to the somewhat dusty floor.

When they stopped, another set of wall-touches led to a panel opening into Georg’s bedroom. As Mouse stepped in, looked around and turned to face Georg, he didn’t bother restraining a snicker and a soft laugh. Your Georgness, with where this set of secret passages leads, surely you could keep them dusted, so your visitors don’t traipse dirt on your lovely carpets and lead your servants to wonder how it got there?

"Whatever my Crown Prince predecessors might have done, you are the first to visit me through the passage. The first ever."

Mouse’s Oh, was both soft and apologetic.

Which didn’t prevent his cock from twitching at this welcome news, nor Georg from noticing the twitch and smiling.

Bulges and cock twitches and so forth were readily visible once they were in light, as they’d both selected clothes easily discarded, but not what was supposedly customary for men to wear to bed—a night shirt donned by pulling it over one’s head, and letting its hem fall to one’s ankles. Having one’s tailor, if one could afford one, or putting a pair of scissors to use oneself, to create a shortness which went only as far as one’s thighs, upper, in all probability, simply was not done.

Although it was, in fact, done often. Mostly by men who entertained other men in their bedrooms, although if the truth must be told, as it must, since this is a true tale, a significant number of men who preferred women did the same shortening, for the same ease of access.

Georg had a ready rationale to offer if asked why he was wearing a tight shirt which showed off every muscle from his collarbones to almost his waist. The almost was because there wasn’t enough fabric to enable tucking into the almost, but not quite, skin-tight trousers he wore. Without drawers.

Simple. If asked, he wasn’t yet ready for bed, and wandering the Palace, even in dark hallways and secret passages, while wearing a night shirt, or naked under a night robe, was not acceptable Prussian Prince protocol. That would be his story and he’d stick to it.

Mouse didn’t have a similar story. He