The Cooking Mage & The Parchment Prankster Part Three

By Eric Alan Westfall

The foreseen four happened. Both “prince” and “mouse” survived the 19th. Now everyone knows Georg’s more than a six-nine (rounded up) scarred cooking mage. He’s a deadly warrior who knows how to use the magickal sword gifted to him by Saint Brunhilde of the Blade.

The story about Lord Mouse using parchment magick in the ballroom battle is ridiculous, but he’s the only one with the power to stop the conspirators from draining the magick out of the Gunpowder Treaty.

The conspirators’ to-do list for 24 July is therefore focused: (1) Kill Lord Mouse; (2) avoid the Prince; (3) avoid any and all saints, and (4) ensure no more dancing!

One last visit to our world of magick and technology, in which there’s a most unusual meeting in the Swiss embassy, a subterfuge goes tragically awry, the Senior Mage takes a train trip carrying a box of Vienna’s finest chocolates, two meetings happen on a theme of “You want me to do what?”, objectivity gets defenestrated whilst planning to stop the murder of Mouse, but it has to be revived and brought back to the meeting; a pair of press releases causes much fuss and furor; a shadow-walker (check the O.M.I. pamphlet if you don’t recall) earns his pay; the future gets fogged again; a series of meetings on a theme of “You can’t be serious” happens; a vase is murdered; and three men risk everything to end the conspiracy once and for all.

Plus a glorious HEA with parties all over the hundred-plus islands of the Earldom, celebrating the shared birthday of Georg and David. And a very private and personal HEA for our heroes, the day before, at the Earl-Consort’s vacation home on the Jamaican Sea. You know. The one with the well-warded, no spying or scrying allowed, nude beach, where a Mouse might consort with a Consort.

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 (149,091 words of story)

• Language: English
• Publisher: Eric Alan Westfall
• Release date: Sep 21, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005121136

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

24 July 1890. Berlin. Shortly Before 9:00 a.m. Outside The Embassy of Switzerland, And Inside Thereafter.

A Glance Back, At 23 July 1890. Hamburg. Shortly After Noon, At A Warehouse Near The Docks.

24 July 1890. Berlin. 11:15 a.m. Inside The Inquisitors’ Carriage [License Plaque UKG017], Immediately Following Their Departure From The Swiss Embassy.

24 July 1890. Berlin. 11:15 a.m. Georg’s Carriage [LP 038], Immediately Following Their Departure From The Swiss Embassy.

24 July 1890. Berlin. 11:35 a.m. The Great Palace. Outside The Crown Prince’s Suite And Inside.

24 July 1890. Berlin. 12:00 Noon. The Great Palace. The Crown Prince’s Suite, And His Private Office.

24 July 1890. Berlin. 1:55 p.m. The Great Palace. The Crown Prince’s Suite, And His Private Office.

24 July 1890. Berlin. 7:00 p.m. Paolo’s Flat (No. 230) At Mietskaserne 1.

25 July 1890. Berlin. 6:00 a.m. Paolo’s Flat (No. 230) At Mietskaserne 1.

25 July 1890: Paolo’s Glance Back, At 21 July 1890. Vienna And Berlin.

25 July 1890: Paolo’s Glance Back, At 22-23 July 1890. Berlin.

25 July 1890: Paolo’s Glance Back, At 24 July 1890. Berlin.

25 July 1890. Berlin (7:00 a.m.) and London (9:00 a.m.) Two Meetings On A Theme Of You Want Me To What?

25 July 1890. Berlin. 10:00 a.m. The Great Palace. The King’s Private Study. A Meeting Of The Von Stroheim Von Hoffmannstahl Family.

25 July 1890. Berlin. Immediately Following The Von Stroheim Von Hoffmannstahl Family Meeting. The Great Palace. The Suite For Visiting Royalty And Rulers.

25 July 1890. Berlin. Immediately Following The Conclusion Of The Meeting Immediately Following The Von Stroheim Von Hoffmannstahl Family Meeting (1). The Great Palace. The Suite For Visiting Royalty And Rulers.

25 July 1890. Berlin. Immediately Following The Conclusion Of The Meeting Immediately Following The Von Stroheim Von Hoffmannstahl Family Meeting (2). The Great Palace. The Suite For Visiting Royalty And Rulers.

25 July 1890. Berlin. 3:40 p.m. The Great Palace. Captain Tessier’s Room, Adjacent To The Suite For Visiting Royalty And Rulers.

26 July 1890. 5:00 a.m. Jamaican Local Time. An Unspecified Location Outside Of Kingstown.

26 July 1890. Berlin. 7:30 a.m. And After. The Start Of A Busy Day.

26 July 1890. Berlin. The Busy Day Continues.

27 July 1890. Berlin. Another Busy Day.

28 July 1890. Berlin. A Third Busy Day.

29 July 1890. 6:00 a.m. An Article In The Daily News Of Prussian-Saxon Society.

29 July 1890. Berlin. 7:30 a.m. The Great Palace. The Crown Prince’s Private Office. The Proof Is In The Pudding, Or, Testing The Text To See If It Works.

29 July 1890. Berlin. 11:30 a.m. The Great Palace. Georg’s Private Office. Preparing For A Series Of Meetings Which Will Share A Theme Of You Can’t Be Serious.

30 July 1890. Berlin. 5:40 p.m. Paolo’s Flat (No. 230) At Mietskaserne 1.

30 July 1890. Berlin. 11:15 p.m. The Great Palace. The Crown Prince’s Suite.

31 July 1890. Berlin. 10:28 p.m. And Thereafter. Number 17 Heynstrasse.

1 August 1890. 7:43 a.m. Issuance Of A Press Release By The Prime Minister Of The Kingdom Of Prussia And Saxony.

1 August 1890. Berlin. 10:00 a.m. The Embassy Of The Kingdom Of Bulgaria. Simultaneously With A Meeting In London At Buckingham Palace, And In Berlin At The Great Palace, All On A Theme Of "Are You Serious?"

1 August 1890. London. 9:00 a.m. Buckingham Palace. Simultaneously With The Meeting In Berlin At The Great Palace, And In Berlin At The Embassy of Bulgaria.

1 August 1890. Berlin. 10:00 a.m. The Great Palace. Simultaneously With The Meeting In London At Buckingham Palace, And In Berlin At The Embassy Of Bulgaria.

1 August 1890. Berlin. 1:00 p.m. The Embassy Of The Kingdom of Serbia. A Variation On The Serious Theme.

3 August 1890. 5:00 p.m. All Serious Matters Having Been Resolved, A List Is Prepared Of Signatories To The Memoranda of Understanding, In Order Of Signing.

4 August 1890. Berlin. 7:30 a.m. The Great Palace. The First Of A Pair of Previously Unplanned Meetings.

4 August 1890. Berlin. Shortly After 9:00 a.m. The Palais Hardenberg, In The Hall Of Representatives.

5 August 1890. Berlin. 9:02 a.m. The Palais Hardenberg, In The Hall of Representatives. A Morning Session in Which The Treaty Conference Ends.

The Valkyreich Heights. (An Excerpt From A Visitor’s Guide To The Best Of Berlin.)

6 August 1890. 11:00 a.m. Outside Berlin In An Unplanned (Also Unprecedented) Place For A Picnic, And The Great Palace Thereafter.

6 August 1890. Berlin. The Great Palace. Naps And Moonstones Aside, The Day Finally Gets Busy.

6 August 1890. Berlin. 5:15 p.m. The Great Palace. The King’s Private Office. A Meeting In Which An Abdication Is Called Off.

6 August 1890. Berlin. The Great Palace. Georg’s Suite. The Final Three Of The Day’s Series Of Announcements.

7 August 1890. Berlin. 8:49 a.m. The Headquarters of Das Ministerium für Handel (The Ministry of Trade), Which Contains Das Büro für Öffentlichkeitsarbeit (The Office Of Public Information).

7 August 1890. Berlin. 10:00 a.m. The Great Palace. The Sitting Room In Georg’s Suite.

9 August 1890. Moscow. 11:00 a.m. (Moscow Time). The Grand Kremlin Palace. A Private Office Of The Tsar Of All The Russias.

9 August 1890. 10.00 p.m. Berlin. Outside The Home Of The Duke Of Alsace-Lorraine, Inside, And Out Again.

10 August 1890. The Front Page Of The Sunday Times.

16 August 1890. An Article In The Prussia-Saxony Weekly International News.

16 August 1890. A Confidential Report Of The International Joint Committee To Combat Anarchists And Other Terrorists.

16 August 1890. Berlin. The Great Palace. 1:12 p.m. The Sitting Room In Georg’s Suite (A Meeting Of The Joint Committee).

23 August 1890. Berlin. The Great Palace. 9:30 a.m. The Sitting Room In Georg’s Suite (A Meeting Of The Joint Committee).

23 August 1890. Berlin. 12:25 p.m. The Great Palace. The Rooms Where The Liar, The Thief, And The Spy Are Detained.

23 August 1890. Berlin. 3:15 p.m. The Great Palace. The Sitting Room In Georg’s Suite (A Meeting Of The Joint Committee).

23 August 1890 Through 27 August 1890. An Under The Sheets Mission To Moscow, Or Mayhap A Mine Nearby, Duly Authorized By The International Joint Committee To Combat Anarchists And Other Terrorists.

27 August 1890. Berlin. 11:37 p.m. The Great Palace. The Sitting Room In Georg’s Suite (A Hurried Meeting Of The International Joint Committee To Combat Anarchists And Other Terrorists).

28 August 1890. Berlin. 7:25 a.m. Two Press Releases Issued By The Prime Minister Of The Kingdom Of Prussia And Saxony, Accompanied Here By Necessary Translations From Politics To Truth.

29 August 1890. Berlin. 10:43 a.m. The Great Palace. The Sitting Room In Georg’s Suite (A Final—For Now—Meeting Of The Joint International Committee to Combat Anarchists And Other Terrorists).

30 August 1890. An Article In The Prussia-Saxony Weekly International News.

6 September 1890. An Article In The Prussia-Saxony Weekly International News.

9 September 1890 Through 15 July 1891, In Which Several Tied-Up Loose Ends Are Reported, And Other Pertinent Information Is Provided.

18 July 1891. The Actual Epilogue, Because Really, All-Day Birthday Parties, All Over A Hundred Or So Islands (Even Including Gold Island, Where A Modest Celebration Behind The Magick Is Allowed), Plus A Birthday Ball With Lots Of Family, And A Surprising Number Of Friends, Plus Remembrances, Can’t Truly Count As An Epilogue.

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).

Yet Another More Important Note From The Author:

If you’ve enjoyed The Cooking Mage & The Parchment Prankster enough to have bought this final 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 meeting at the Swiss Embassy in Berlin.

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.

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 in Parts Two or Three, 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.

24 July 1890. Berlin. Shortly Before 9:00 a.m.

Outside The Embassy of Switzerland, And Inside Thereafter.

The lines of the physically and magickally armored carriage were stark, everything painted a drab grey, with barred windows which could be closed. It stopped near the gates of the Swiss Embassy, but without blocking them. Although the well-armed driver and the guard beside him appeared to be hired thugs, they were in fact two Private Guards who would have much preferred being official escorts for the meeting. Both sets of Guards had unsuccessfully tried to persuade their respective leaders of the danger of a security team of only four, no disrespect intended to the fighting skills of His Lordship, or His Highness.

It may or may not have been an oversight on the part of both Highness and Lordship the rest of the Guards were not ordered to stay in the Palace during the meeting. Which might have explained why the area surrounding the Embassy would be littered with dangerous men in plain clothes, trying their best not to appear dangerous, as soon as the carriage occupants were behind the Embassy walls.

Although the carriage was wide and long, it was already crowded by the presence of a Prince, an Earl, and the four Guards selected the previous morning. It became even more so when the curb-side door opened, and Father Powell and Liam stepped in.

During the juggling of positions, to get everyone scrunched together and seated, Georg murmured in a Mousical ear, You could sit on my lap if you wish. You know how comfortable it is.

Yes to both, but you’d be too distracted to do your job properly once we’re in there.

Two Inquisitor chuckles and four Guard smiles followed.

Ready...Your Lordship? the Inquisitor-General asked.

A little light, please? was the Earl’s response.

A moment after Liam supplied the mage-light, and looked around, he laughed, joined by John a part of a second later. The others had gotten the laughter out of their systems before they left the Palace.

The man who wasn’t...quite...on Georg’s lap was, earlier in the morning, impeccably dressed for the occasion of a formal visit to the Swiss Embassy, and a meeting with dignitaries of the highest rank. Jean-Louis would not have let him walk out of his suite in any other fashion condition. Even the briefcase he carried as his Guards escorted him to the warded armory room where everyone else was waiting with the carriage, seemed to have an extra shine to its smooth black leather, and gleaming brass locks.

The stylishness began to fade as soon as their group of personages and protectors was alone in the room, except for horses indicating their impatience to be out and about in the open, fresh air, doing their jobs.

Although Georg was holding the coach door open for him, David turned to Henri and said, Would you put your hands out, palms up, please? I need you to hold something for me for a moment.

Puzzled, Henri did as he was asked. David swung the briefcase up and flipped it on its side, confident Henri would catch it and hold it level, as he did. A quick thumb-flick to the locks popped them open, and a lifted lid disclosed the contents. A large quantity of fairly small pieces of paper and parchment, some smooth and empty of ink, others covered with things which looked like sigils—but weren’t, although only David knew that truth—and still others were covered in writing which may or may not have been in any real language, but was so tiny, they couldn’t be read by any of the group standing around the Henri-Earl duo, even if they’d been close enough to try.

He began pulling the pieces out, using them for stuffing.

Pocket stuffing.

Bulging pocket stuffing.

All of them. Four trouser pockets, front, back, left, right. Two waistcoat pockets. An inside-right jacket pocket. He paused the paper-stuffing by reaching into the briefcase again, feeling around, and pulling out a fistful of Mont Blancs, which he stuffed in the inside-left jacket pocket. Two outside jacket pockets.

After which, he carefully removed and folded the expensive silk handkerchief which complemented waistcoat, shirt, and tie, and put it into the briefcase. One did not want to endanger one’s life by arousing the ire of one’s manservant through causing handkerchief damage. Some crinkling parchment was added to that coat pocket.

One also did not want to endanger one’s manservant’s life with the great shock of seeing his employer destroy the elegant lines of the attire said manservant selected. Why, said manservant might expire on the spot. An equally undesirable alternative was the endangerment of one’s own self if said manservant didn’t expire, and thereafter...objected. With all the volcanic vigor of which a manservant with Jean-Paul’s talents was capable.

Thus the alteration of the attire outside the carriage and not when getting...attired.

With every pocket stuffed as full as full could be, plus a little bit more, the Earl closed the briefcase, thanked Henri for his tabletop service, moved a few steps away to put it on top of a stack of boxes undoubtedly containing something lethal, and turned back to the group.

He adopted the pose of a Tonnish snob being announced at a ball, or a rout, or a Venetian breakfast which began after noon and continued into the evening. He even raised a limp hand as if holding a quizzing glass. At any of those events, the pose would be held long enough for anyone watching to admire his wondrousness, before he was forced to un-pose and move on, allowing others to enter, with or without posing.

The Earl was still there in his fine clothes, but Mouse had been allowed out to play. He managed, for only a few seconds, to look both puzzled and offended by the unseemly laughing and outright guffawing from the only prince in the room, before succumbing to his own laughter.

Whether in London, Berlin, or a similarly civilized elsewhere in Europe, when a man was in formal dress—whether the formality was for daytime business purposes or social calls, or evening occasions—the only permissible visible bulge was whatever was between his legs. While other men, perhaps some women, naturally noticed said bulge, nevertheless no one would be so déclassé as to comment upon the sometimes subtle, often not, augmentation thereof.

The Mousical between-the-legs bulge—all as designed by nature or deities—was overshadowed by the bulging pockets. If the paper had been straw, Henri commented, His Lordship would have looked like an overstuffed scarecrow, with its innards all leaking.

When the laughter, which had been greatly augmented by everyone else in the room, immediately after the first Georg guffaw, began to die out, Mouse said, with a huff not at all successful in suggesting even a modicum of true offense, Well, if you are all quite finished with mocking your Lord and Master, we have a meeting to go to, do we not?

He stalked as best he could over to the carriage door, stepped on the first step, but before he could use the second step, a large hand on his arse enthusiastically assisted him in both the upward and forward movements required to get all the way into the carriage. He landed on his hands and knees, and fortunately for the future health and wellbeing of both Georg and his Princely prick, the Nice arse, my dear Mouse from the Mountain blocking the carriage door was only heard by the two of them.

When he got himself seated, and as Georg started a more dignified carriage-entering process, Mouse called out, I’d better not be hearing any laughter out there, or...or...heads will roll.

The somewhat stuttered No, Your Lordship, Of course not, Your Lordship and four other Guard, and so forth, variants didn’t contain a hint of laughter.

None.

Not a tinge or trace of laughter, though Mouse was almost certain he caught a whiff of a chortle or chuckle.

Mouse’s faux glare at the current carriage occupants sufficed to squelch any incipient cackles or so forth as the door opened and John and Liam stepped in.

There was no need for in-private formality amongst these men, so John said, My dear godson, why are you dressed like a...like a...

He couldn’t quite come up with a phrase, so Liam did. Paper scarecrow about to come apart at the seams.

Exactly. Thank you, Liam.

You’re welcome, Your Inquisitor-Generalship.

Mouse was all innocence. A surfeit of innocence, with only a suggestion of seriousness beneath it. When you announce your surprise—‘Look! A parchment mage has come to audition for a part in this drama!’—won’t the director, or whoever is responsible for casting decisions, expect him to be prepared to play the part? And have an ample supply of the tools of his trade readily at hand?

Georg snorted. Ask him how many Mont Blancs he has on him.

Mouse gave him the huff which said, See how I’m ignoring you? before looking again at the Inquisitors. A sufficiency, I assure you. It wouldn’t do to run out of ink mid-audition, now would it?

With no response from anyone in the carriage, seriousness descended. Georg and Mouse had naturally—naturally, perhaps, only for them, when compared to other rulers and royalty—shared their suspicions and conclusions with their four Guards, having decided no one was going into this unwarned. There was, therefore, no need for comments or questions. They were all ready, and knew they were.

The Inquisitor-General tilted his head toward the door, which Liam opened. They all blinked several times in the bright light as they stepped out and became accustomed to the change. When they stopped in front of the gate, the primary four were in their I am an important personage mode. Although if anyone was being honest, the Earl’s odd attire lessened the importance of his person.

Behind the warded and locked gate were two guards. One was probably higher-ranked than the other, given the extra fussiness of his uniform, but as no one outside was familiar with the intricacies of Swiss uniforms, they couldn’t tell what his rank was.

A thought about yet another annoying guard might have run rapidly through the minds of Mouse and Henri, remembering another pair of guards at another gate in the not too distant past.

Annoying proved accurate, when fussy-uniform didn’t open the gate following Father Powell’s request to be admitted, instead asking for, and of course receiving, the names and ranks of the four personages outside. Fussy-uniform pulled a piece of paper from an inner pocket, slowly unfolded it, and slowly perused it.

Eventually, he looked up from his paper, but only at the Inquisitor-General and the Deputy Inquisitor-General, before informing them with an alas containing not the merest measure of regret, that since theirs were the only names on his list, only they would be allowed to enter.

Father Powell deities-damned himself for a fool since he hadn’t included Georg and David in the note to the Ambassador. His Are you certain? was reflexive, despite knowing the answer.

The guard moved close enough to the gate to hold up the list so it could be read, but no one could reach through and grab. Admit only was followed by the full names and titles of John and Liam, followed by an illegible signature.

Satisfied the outsiders knew he’d only been doing his duty, the guard refolded, and tucked the list inside his coat. He showed no desire to go inside and ask whether the list should be amended.

They all knew the plan was to present the Senior Mage with a fait accompli by having the extra meeting attendees already inside the Embassy. But no fait was going to be accomplied if the extras were stuck beyond the gates.

No matter how Mousical the trio looked at the moment, the Earl was still inside, ready to step out as needed.

The Earl stepped, wondering if what he was going to do was an act of war, consider he was about to enter—he was reasonably sure he was about to enter—another country’s sovereign territory by means of force. Magickal force, but still...

He pulled a long piece of parchment from his right outer jacket pocket, and moved to where the two halves of the gates touched. Father Powell and Liam moved out of his way.

The Earl pressed the parchment across the joinder, and murmured inside his head, // I only ask your aid with this, Saint Sibast, in case my own magick is not enough. If the Treaty is to be saved, Georg and I must be at this meeting. //

// Agreed. //

Open, says me, the Earl said, ignoring the repressed snickers from every blasted one of his companions.

The gates of the Swiss Embassy swung inward, pushing the officious guard hard enough to make him stumble backward, but not enough to make him fall.

The Earl—Mouse hidden away for however long a nonce might be—walked through, trailed by his sudden seven-man entourage. When the Swiss guards got between them and the plain door—the Swiss reputation for extreme frugality proving true once again—the intruders stopped.

"I’m the Earl of Jamaica. My arrival in, ah, Switzerland may have been unorthodox, but no one was hurt. However, any insult to my person, or violence against me or anyone with me, will be considered an act of war.

Do the two of you really wish to be the first casualties of war? You do recognize His Royal Highness, don’t you? Hero of the Grand Ballroom Battle? Shall I ask him to ask Saint Brunhilde to show you Her Blade?

Mouse having made an appearance, the nonce having proved to be quite short, he and D and E all realized they were going to pay for their remarks later, particularly the hero ones, but they suspected they’d wind up enjoying the payment. Georg was inventive about such things.

Ah. When the guards’ eyes widened, looking up and past him at Georg, he knew they’d been allowed see the Blade.

I...I will ask, the first Swiss guard said, and hurried inside. Everyone who wasn’t Swiss assumed the Embassy door shut by fussy-uniform was both warded and locked.

They waited for the first guard to return. And waited some more.

David turned, and their group moved far enough from the Swiss guard so he couldn’t hear David’s words. "I remind you I said if I had to audition to be allowed—fucking allowed to try to avert a disaster affecting at the least all of Europe—the director or directors casting this play might be surprised. The audition and the surprises begin now."

David turned, and moved again to face the guard who stood, with more than a few nerves on display, in front of the Embassy door. David’s words weren’t to him. Would someone be kind enough to move this gentleman? Out of the way, but gently.

It was no surprise to any of the non-Swiss group it was Georg who stepped forward, loomed over the guard with the hilt of Saint Brunhilde’s Blade gleaming at his back—Georg, too, had a flair for the dramatic—and said, I’m either going to pick you up and set you to one side, where you will stay out of the way, or you’re going to do it yourself.

Valor made no appearance, leaving discretion in absolute control. The Swiss guard moved out of the way.

David pressed another piece of parchment against the door. Aren’t you happy I brought a lot of these along? he said to his companions.

Silently, he said, // I think these are going to be too strong for me alone. So the locks and door wards, please. //

// Indeed. //

The magickal words were spoken, no snickers were heard, the locks unlocked, the door wards fell. We need to see the non-Swiss person or persons who are here, officer. No harm will befall them but I’m tired of wasting my time, as are my friends. Directions to the room, please.

The request probably didn’t require Georg adding a little extra loom to his stance, but it certainly didn’t hurt. The guard gave them directions.

When they approached the room at the end of a hallway, they found the original guard outside it, looking upset, and even more so when he saw the David-led group. Beyond the door they could hear angry voices.

David was pleased with proof of the improvement in his head-of-state glares, when an Earlish one stopped the guard from speaking. D, M, and E resolutely refused to consider the remote possibility the guard’s reaction had anything to do with the impressive array of six tall men, plus one very tall man, behind him. All of them visibly armed, with the oldest pair exuding a kind of power which slammed against anyone unprepared to defend against it. And most who were.

Given the fact the guard worked in the Embassy of a nation famed for its neutrality, watches, cheese, and banking privacy, it was likely the guard’s function was more associated with ceremony and appearance, than fighting.

Sir, as you can see, we’ve already bypassed the wards and locks on the Embassy gates and your front door, and we’re going to do the same on this one. Do you know who’s on the other side of the door?

A wary look appeared on the guard’s face.

One of them is probably the most powerful mage in Europe. I’m not sure who the other one is, but I suspect he’s another powerful mage. So, knowing who’s probably behind the doors, and seeing this group, do you want to be between us and them when the door opens, as it will? Or even be in this hallway?

The wary, conflicted look worsened, and began hardening into something else.

Henri recognized the look, and given the youth of his sovereign he was sure the Earl wouldn’t understand what he was seeing. Henri couldn’t leave a fellow guard, who was doing his job as best he could—even if he’d been an arrogant prick, earlier—in the lurch. He cleared his throat. Your Lordship?

David stilled, surprised, but knowing Henri would not be interrupting without a good reason. Captain Tessier.

Your Lordship, if I may?

Of course.

Henri moved past David, approaching the guard, knowing there was no way he could look anything other than what he was—a lethal warrior who had essentially invaded the Swiss Embassy. He did the guard the courtesy of lowering his arms, holding them away from his body, with his hands open, palms outward, and nowhere near any weapon.

He also remained a few feet away from the guard, creating the illusion of a border or wall of sorts between them.

The guard didn’t flinch when Henri moved, nor did his hardened expression change.

"I’m Henri Tessier, Captain of his guard. A head-tilt indicated David, and a small smile, unseen by those behind him, suggested, We’re both guards here, what can you do?"

He got an even smaller, but slightly sympathetic, smile in return. But there was no sympathy nor any give in the guard’s voice. "I’m Christoffel Burckhalter. Sergeant. And I...I can’t. No, I won’t."

Henri gave him a bow which, had he been Prussian, might have involved a heel-click. It was an unquestionably respectful bow from one professional to another. Let me see what I can do.

Henri returned to their group, said, Your Lordship, may we talk? When he directed a look past the group, they all moved further back in the hallway, to put more space, and less likelihood of overhearing, between them and Sergeant Burckhalter.

"Your Lordship, we can’t, we mustn’t, do this. We know how powerful the Senior Mage is, or at least as gossip says he is, and in this instance I willingly accept the word of gossip. The other man—and as you can plainly not hear, there is no longer an argument—is likely another mage. Likely powerful. All as you said.

A magickal or physical confrontation between them and us if we force the door means Sergeant Burckhalter gets injured or killed, doing his duty. He is an honorable man, my lord, who views standing aside and letting us pass as cowardice. I can’t fault him for that.

David sighed. Although this meeting had been set up by Inquisitors, his decision at the gate to be a pushy parchment mage sovereign, left him effectively in charge. Responsible.

There was no need for a consultation with his beloved, er, with the Crown Prince who had more experience with battles and magick, to know Henri was right.

He would have to bluff. After a murmured, Please wait here to his companions, David moved to the same position Henri had occupied minutes earlier.

Sergeant Burckhalter, I need to speak to the men beyond the door. I don’t want to yell from here, and risk not being heard, or being misunderstood. May I go to the door? Only me. Everyone with me will stay where they are. Or they will back up, if you wish. I give you my word I will not use magick except to defend myself. My word, as well, everyone with me will do the same.

The sergeant gave him a long, assessing look, before nodding and stepping away to allow David by. But as soon as David was past, the sergeant moved, and was once more guarding the gate against the invaders.

A deep breath to calm himself a little, and David said, with a reasonable degree of Earlish loudness under the circumstances, "Senior Mage, this is the Earl of Jamaica, a fact which you already know. I supposedly came here to audition for the role of savior in the current drama. I have four things to say.

"First, I am the famous, or infamous, depending on your point of view, Lord Mouse, the Parchment Prankster. I am neither ashamed nor embarrassed to acknowledge it. It appears, too, I am renowned far from the streets of London, for the quality of my jokes.

"Second, my parchment magick not only took down the wards on the Embassy’s door and the Embassy’s gates a few minutes ago, they’ll stay down until I allow them to go back up.

"Third, instead of celebrating the birthday of the Crown Prince, and my own on the 19th, I had to kill two assassins.

"Fourth, there will be no further auditions, demonstrations, explanations, justifications, or whatever else you think you’ll require of me. Either the knowledge you have of me, and the backing of both the Inquisition, and therefore the Queen Herself, as well as the Crown Prince of Prussia and Saxony, is sufficient to award me the part, or it is not.

If not, say so, or let your silence say so, and I’ll leave. I will, of course, put the wards back up and lock everything on my way out. Whether the Crown Prince stays to off—

The Crown Prince departs when the Earl does. Georg interrupted, with perhaps Voice-assisted volume so the men behind the door could not possibly not hear.

When all that followed was more silence, David’s shrug was implicit in his turn towards Georg, a cliché compass pointing towards his personal north. He would find another fucking way to help the idiots behind the door, but enough was fucking enough.

He paused when he reached the sergeant. My apologies, sir, for this interruption in your day. You did your job well. If your current employer does not appreciate how well, come to the Jamaican Embassy. We will find you suitable new employment with, I assure you, increased pay.

Th-thank you, Your Lordship.

Moving past the Swiss sergeant, he said to his group, Exeunt omnes down the center aisle, I think.

The backs of the invaders were all to the door, and thus no one saw it open. Whether the silence of the opening was simply good Swiss workmanship, or a magickal assist, was irrelevant. They did hear the voice.

Well done, Lord Mouse.

Henri and Klaus took the lead in the departure, with Otto and Honoré bringing up the rear. Georg was at David’s side, the Inquisitors behind. David’s stop was so abrupt it nearly led to an Inquisitorial trampling, but well-honed instincts prevented it.

The look on David’s face when he turned led the four men behind him into an immediate imitation of a scarlet body of water deciding it needed to split itself in two. David stopped a small, tip-of-a-triangle step, past Otto and Honoré.

No. I do not answer to that name. Well, I do, but it’s no one’s business but Georg’s and mine. You may address me as Lord Halleston, if we are to be in the mode of the British Ton, or Your Lordship, if we are to be in a sovereign of Jamaica mode. While I suspect I know to whom I am speaking, we’ve never met, and naming informalities will have to come later, if ever.

Quite right, quite right. The door opened wide, although they couldn’t see who was pulling it. Please come in. All of you. I’m Bertram Cumberbatch, for my sins, Senior Mage of the Council of Mages. You can call me Bertie, if you wish, Your Lordship.

In the present world, rather than the next, the last became first, and the first became last, as Otto and Honoré led the way. Under the circumstances, neutral Swiss Embassy or no, David stayed where he was, so the Guards could go in first and do their job.

It was both the most logical, and most practical thing to do, since he knew if he’d gone on walking, a large hand belonging to a large Prussian Prince would have grabbed his shoulder and yanked him back, possibly with a laugh if he lost his balance and fell on his safe arse.

Clear! Otto called out.

But before David could move, the hand was on his shoulder. Would you mind if I asked Saint Brunhilde for her assistance in being sure?

David kept the flush of warmth at the words close inside. He would be quite sure to thank Georg later, in a highly improper manner, for the acknowledgment of partnership, rather than expecting him to play the little man needing a big man to protect him. Not at all.

Georg skirted David, the scabbard visible down his back, as he took the two Georg-style strides needed for him to get into the room, the sword now in his hand, the shining silver of Blade and hilt creating a glow lighting his way.

A moment or two later, Georg called out, Clear!

David moved far enough into the conference room, so as not to impede the entrance of the others. It was laid out much as the British Airships conference room. A table of gleaming mahogany or a similar wood, with clean lines and minimal carving—expensive Swiss simplicity— stretched toward the far wall, which had another set of doors. Matching straight-backed chairs were against both side walls. Except...at the far end there were two chairs on the side of the table to David’s left, and four opposite.

Interesting. Chairs set for six, when in theory, the two mages should only have been expecting two Inquisitors. Either a Seer had pierced the fog, or on being informed of the intruders demanding entrance, the Senior Mage asked his Swiss hosts to set the additional chairs in place.

David could not quite see the Senior Mage, or the Second Mage, hauling chairs around the room, even the not great distance from wall to table.

In front of five of the six chairs there was a pad of paper, a fountain pen of some unknown quality, and a pencil. The sixth chair, farthest from David on his left, had a second and slightly larger pad.

The four Guards spread out at their end of the room,