Chapter 2
"...and you thought that was a good idea why? It was your first day here man!"
The Baron took a bite of apricot jelly on bread, speaking with his mouth full of food.
"Well, I fully admit that I could've played that cooler."
Ingo stared at the Baron with an exasperated look on his face before seemingly accepting the reality of the situation: The Baron felt little to no remorse for beating up a few young punks, and scolding him was a waste of time.
Ingo didn't really mind that much, but he did need to yell at the Baron for beating up the sons of a few prominent merchant houses. It was kind of his job.
Ingo took in a deep sigh before sipping his drink: an Imperial lager, made locally in Rauchburg. As he was thinking of something to say, the servants brought their breakfast proper: Bacon, sausage, and scrambled eggs. The Baron chuckled at the sight, eliciting a confused look from Ingo.
“You know, Ingo, the food court of Castle Bickenstadt still doesn’t serve scrambled eggs.”
Ingo smiled brightly, separating his food slightly with his fork.
“No shit? Still?”
“Of course! Never saw a reason to reintroduce it, seeing as no one other than Sabine cared so much. No one has even really noticed, and if anyone has, none have complained.”
Ingo brought his fork down into the eggs before hesitating to bring it to his mouth.
“Do you…also not like eggs?”
The Baron waved his hand dismissively.
“Oh, no, nothing like that. Don’t worry. I am ambivalent. I just keep it up because…well…you know.”
The two men took up their utensils and ate, making fairly casual and banal conversation as they went. After getting close to finishing their meals, Ingo decided it was time to talk about something important.
“So…Johan. I think you need to visit Sabine’s grave. It’s been decades. You need closure.”
The Baron paused, fork just in front of his mouth, before slowly taking a bite and setting it down. He sighed and rubbed his eyes. He suddenly felt very old.
“I…suppose I should. That’s…a good idea. When…whe-when should we go?”
Ingo stood up from his seat.
“We can go now, if you want. The next thing in your schedule isn’t until four, so we’ve got a few hours.”
The Baron closed his eyes in thought before standing.
“Yes…let’s go. I’ve kept her waiting for 30 years, it’s about time I finally visit.”
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Ingo led the Baron through his palace/factory and into the graveyard for nobles. There was no single family graveyard for the Waffenstadt nobles, they all shared a single large graveyard, with plots of land dedicated to different noble families. And, since it was owned by nobles, the whole complex was just breathtaking.
The two men walked through the beautiful, flora-covered arbors placed periodically around to provide shade, over the beautifully made bridges over the tasteful stream which led to a central duck pond, and finally, into an annex dedicated to the Waffenstadt family. As they neared closer to Sabine’s grave, the Baron was using every last ounce of willpower to not open sob.
Finally, they arrived. Sabine’s grave was tastefully simple. A simple rectangular headstone made of a polished gray marble, with veins of gold tastefully spread around. The nameplate, made from polished copper as per her wishes, was prominently placed at the center. It read:
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Here lies Sabine Adelbert von Waffenstadt.
Loving wife of Baron Johan Bleichroder von Bickenstadt,
Naturalist, Chemist, Mother,
A flower, killed before it could truly bloom.
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The Baron knelt in front of the grave, sitting back on his haunches in a manner similar to how people from Wa and Wako often sat.
"Hello, Sabine. It…it really has been quite some time, hasn't it? It’s…it’s been…"
The Baron reached out to touch the smooth marble headstone, hesitating for a moment before finally touching the tips of his fingers to the cold stone.
"I'm…I'm sorry, that I haven't visited in a few decades. I…I think that, well, anyone else would be furious with me. But…"
The Baron trailed off, staring down at the small potted tulip he brought with him from Bickenstadt before looking to Ingo, tears welling up in his eyes.
"She really was the only one who ever understood me. The real me. She would understand…she would. She knows that I…"
A single set of tears trailed down his cheek. He wiped it off and chuckled slightly.
"She knew that I was…eccentric. That was what she loved about me. I was the only one she could truly confide in, and vice versa."
Ingo placed a hand on the Baron's shoulder, causing him to jerk slightly before simply letting it rest where it lay.
"I know, Johan. She talked about you, you know? Never seen her light up like that about anything other than machines or chemistry. She was also quite…eccentric…"
As Ingo trailed off his face scrunched up, like he had taken a bite of something bitter.
"Our dad…he didn't like it. Wanted her to be a 'good, proper lady'. Quiet, chaste, a background decoration. That was…never her strong suit."
The Baron smiled slightly and nodded his head once.
"She told me…that our marriage was primarily due to her father wanting her gone. I didn't understand it at all. All I wanted was for her…"
The Baron looked to the sky, trying to use the force of gravity to stifle his tears.
"I just wanted her near me. My father, and his inner circle…they were traditionalists. Idiots as far as I was and am still concerned. And the common people…well I had different opinions at the time. I had no one in Bickenstadt to talk to really, except her. I could talk to her about anything, and she could keep up. On topics of machines and natural sciences I could hardly keep up with her. It was…different."
The Baron leaned forward and touched his head to the tombstone.
"You know, Sabine, our son has grown into quite the dashing young man. Possibly an even better man than me, God willing. He's far more practical than I could ever be.”
The Baron let out a single chuckle, almost letting it turn into a sob.
"I'm guessing he got that from you. You would be so proud…"
The cemetery was dead silent, the only sounds that could be heard were tears hitting stone, and the Baron's quivering breathing.
The two men sat in silence, nothing they could say would convey more information than what the Baron was currently doing. Suddenly, a voice came from far away, that of a young man.
"Well, if it isn't the Baron! What are you…"
The voice trailed off as it got closer. Ingo could feel the man stop next to him. Neither the Baron or Ingo acknowledged the him at all.
"...Sabine Adelbert von Waffenstadt…is that…"
Finally, Ingo and the Baron looked at the source of the noise. The Baron's heart dropped when he saw who it was: Lukas Dietrich. He quickly tried to wipe away his tears as Ingo responded.
"She was my younger sister, and his wife."
Lukas looked conflicted.
"Oh…may I ask-"
The Baron cut him off, his voice quite, firm, and filled with barely contained anger.
"No. No you can't."
Lukas looked taken aback. He stared at his feet for a moment. The three men stood in silence for what felt like ages.
"I…I know what it's like. To lose a loved one, I mean. Just a few years ago…my sister…well…yeah. She died. We were close. I could hardly leave my room for a good few months…”
An awkward silence permeated the area. After what felt like an eternity Lukas, slowly, decided to walk away.
“Be seeing you, Baron von Bickenstadt…good luck, man.”
Ingo and the Baron simply sat for a while in silence for close to two minutes before Ingo finally spoke up again.
“So…is it really true that you did nothing but train for a decade after she died?”
The Baron chuffed.
"Yes, I did. And to be honest, I didn’t talk to people outside of that at the time. I couldn’t bring myself to make smalltalk with others, and it was very hard to find good masters as I didn’t trust a single soul for a long time after. Honestly, her death made me a much worse person.”
Ingo laughed.
The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
“Man, that sounds rough!”
“Yes, well, it was. My wife, my best friend, my everything, was ripped away from me in a political assassination. I vowed it would never happen again, and traveled the world for ten years to become a peerless warrior."
The Baron looked off into the distance, able to recall everything that happened then like it was yesterday
"When I came back, my fourteen year old son was desperately trying to keep Bickenstadt together. While not doing great, he was doing a far better job than any fourteen year old boy had the right to. After taking over control and stabilizing Bickenstadt over the course of a few years, my son was finally learned enough to run things, so I started my mercenary company."
Ingo squinted his eyes at the Baron.
"I thought Bickenstadt was run by loyal retainers during that time?"
"Oh, it was until Wolfgang was fourteen. He decided he needed to take over, as it was technically his birthright. He was always far too intelligent for how young he was. He was a fourteen year old with the intellect of an adult.”
The Baron chuckled quietly to himself.
“All he lacked was information, and someone to teach him to utilize his natural talents. To be honest, it scares me sometimes how intelligent and competent he is. He’s my son! You’d think he’d have some of my quirks and faults. But no, he only got the good parts."
The Baron looked back at the grave wistfully.
"You would've been so proud…"
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Just before sunset, the Baron was scheduled to get a tour of Ingo’s forges.
The factory attached to Ingo’s palace was primarily for producing weapons. Swords, knives, spearheads, arrowheads, firearms, cannons, the Rauchburg Palace Forge produced it all. Waffenstadt was responsible for around two fifths of all arms proliferating through the Empire, and the Rauchberg Palace Forge produced a third of all arms made in Waffenstadt. It was a massive complex which could be seen from anywhere in Rauchburg.
Ingo and the Baron stood on a catwalk overlooking one of the complexes, one of the gunmaking forges. The Baron could barely contain himself.
It’s a real Industrial forge! Ours look pretty good, but this…this is something else.
He could see the workers moving materials in and finished products out, smiths at anvils making adjustments to their products and shaping their pieces to roughly fit standard measurements, giant machines which hammered metal taken from a roaring forge, he could see men shaping out and refining gunstocks from wood with axes and knives, and men putting them all together.
The different stations were connected by a conveyor belt, which delivered products that were finished to the next station.
He has Assembly lines and a fucking conveyor belt?!
Ingo laughed as the Baron let his awe show on his face.
“Impressive, isn’t it? Do your factories look like this?”
The Baron smiled and shook his head.
“No. None of them. You have your men specializing in single parts so more people can make more products faster. Our factories are for making the raw materials for our gunsmiths, housed at a different location. Why didn’t I think of that?”
Ingo laughed heartily.
“Well, sometimes an idea just doesn’t occur to people. And now that you’ve seen it, you can recreate it. Though, I doubt you’ll be able to do the belt properly without one of my engineers.”
“I was going to ask about that. How do you have it moving constantly? Water? This place is on Die Grössen Teilender Fluss, yes?”
Ingo slapped the Baron’s shoulder as he guffawed.
“It’s a mix of mechanical and magical processes! We use magic to make things move! You are somewhat correct, however, there is more to it than just the water. You could apply this technique anywhere.”
The Baron cut him off.
“No don’t tell me! I think I know what it is!”
“Oh? Do tell then!”
“My theory is the water from the river helps move the belt by moving gears as it passes through a channel, then you have a strong, long, and thin gravitational field on portions of the belt itself which moves it forward. You can keep the spell up at all times by pouring energy into a magic battery.”
Ingo looked surprised, but incredibly pleased. He roared with laughter and slapped the Baron’s back.
“You figured it out! That is exactly what we do! Down to the last detail! Some of the smiths themselves are gravity mages, so their responsibilities include keeping the batteries full of mana!”
I believe that the mana theory of magic is considered outdated in the wider academia world. I wonder if it’s popular here?
The Baron began to open his mouth when Ingo cut him off.
“Don’t give me the energy vs mana theory lecture, I don’t care. All I care about is that it works. Plus, how do we get the energy for spells? We just suck up an amorphous ‘energy’? I believe personally that mana does exist, we simply don’t yet have the tools to measure it properly. Mark my words, in ten years, I will be vindicated!”
It was the Baron’s turn to look shocked but pleased.
“I didn’t think you would care enough to learn about that. Are you a mage?”
“No, just educated. I spend my free time at the university. What’s your opinion on the matter?”
The Baron shrugged.
“My opinion is we don’t know which is correct, as there’s just not that much evidence for either. I hate that we don’t know yet, but, well, there’s only so much I can do about that. I prefer to err on the side of caution and just strictly talk about energy.”
“Hm, could be worse. Your approach to that ain’t half bad. Well, back to the material world, would you like to see where we make our steel?”
The Baron used every bit of willpower he had to not jump for joy.
“I want to so bad!”
Ingo laughed and gestured for him to follow.
“Never seen such an old man act so excited and energetic! Come along then, I’ll teach you everything you need to know, because we’re family!”
“God Almighty, I should’ve come to visit sooner!”
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The Baron watched carts, bringing in raw materials and bringing out weapons, and massive platforms with cannons strapped tightly to them rolling in and out of the Rauchburg Palace Force with Ingo, and a thought occurred to him.
“Say, Ingo, how much of this stuff is going to the Grand Imperial Army? How much of their stock do you provide?”
Ingo looked at the Baron out of the corner of his eye and chuckled, crossing his arms and looking serious.
“I would say Waffenstadt’s forges provide for about…a third of their arms? Sorry, I only have access to my own shipments ledgers, but I estimate about a third. It could be a fourth, or maybe even half, there’s a sizable margin of error. The munitions, on the other hand, I have a more solid idea of. I believe the Grand Imperial Army relies on Waffenstadt munitions for around forty five percent of their entire stock, and about as much powder. If Rauchburg’s production was slowed for whatever reason…I think it would take them about two to three months to get their powder situation completely fixed.”
“So what you’re saying is, this place makes up a good portion of the Grand Imperial Army’s weaponry and munitions?”
Ingo shrugged.
“Essentially. If Waffenstadt goods stop finding themselves in their warehouses…well they would recover, but it would temporarily weaken them. Depending on the real extent of Imperial bureaucracy’s incompetence, it could be sooner or later, but we can’t know unless it happens.”
The Baron leaned on the rail and quickly scanned the surroundings. The closest person was on the factory floor, and the sounds of working would drown out any sound farther than a few feet from the source.
I could probably shoot a gun in here and it would be a coinflip on if the workers even react.
“Do you think the Imperial bureaucracy is incompetent?”
“Yeah, for the most part. I think the Empress is surrounded by idiots. I have no idea why she hasn’t replaced them yet. Just because they worked for her father doesn’t mean they have to stay forever.”
“The Empress is not stupid. I agree they are incompetent, but I doubt she would keep them there for purely sentimental reasons. She may have a good reason. My guess is that they are loyalists or fanatical nationalists and they don’t question her orders. How much that makes up for incompetence…well that’s really neither here nor there.”
Ingo waved his hand dismissively.
“I don’t particularly care if she has a good reason for keeping them around. They’re incompetent, and that weakens us all. They’re the ones who dragged their feet on sending relief to Waffenstadt towns and villages hit by plague and natural disaster, and especially during the Black Hunger. As I understand, they’re only competent when operating within the borders of Grössenstadt.”
The Baron raised an eyebrow.
“So, you believe they’re not necessarily incompetent, but instead possibly malicious?”
Ingo shrugged.
“Malicious? Incompetent? Simply unlucky? I don’t give a damn. What matters to me is that their policies benefit them more than us, despite us supposedly being a single, unified state. If they’re malicious, that’s bad. If they’re Incompetent, in all honesty, that’s worse.”
The Baron tried to hold back a smile.
“Then, what do you think we should do about it? Should we send our complaints to Grössenburg? Or maybe…”
Ingo smiled and fully turned his head to look at the Baron.
“You know what we should do. It’s what anyone does when their government fails to do its job.”
The Baron let the smile show.
“So…you in?”
“Absolutely. If I have to read one more report about a caravan raided on the way to and inside Grössenstadt I’m going to go there and shoot her myself!”
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It was March 8th, 1661, and Brusilov was sitting in a bar, shooting back shots of Vodka while he played cards with some random Holenstadters.
He was not wearing his real face, instead he was disguised as a regular Bszerci man, with his black Czupryna hairstyle and long, drooping mustache. He smiled and flamboyantly slapped down his cards on the table.
“Przeczytaj i płacz, pay up, losers.”
The men around him grumbled as they tossed Reiksgeld towards Brusilov, who had introduced himself as ‘Bruczlinski’. Suddenly, he noticed something out of the window he was facing. There was a small crowd moving all in the same direction.
That’s strange. Many people walking towards the town square in a single, unified crowd.
“Bracia, I gotta go see what’s goin’ on outside.”
He gathered up his Reiksgeld and stuffed them into his inside breast pocket before leaving some money at the bar for the servers.
He followed the crowd, eventually discovering the cause of the commotion.
On a giant platform was a small group of Imperial knights with their plate armor and halberds flanking a woman on either side. In the middle of them was Empress Samanta Reikspal, sitting on a throne with her leg crossed over the other. Soon after the number of people coming in started to slow down, she stood, eliciting boos from the crowd.
She smiled the whole time, if the jeers got to her at all, which Brusilov knew they most likely did not, she would never allow it to show. One of the knights drew in front of her a complex sigil of white glowing magic, saluting to her as soon as he was finished. The Empress took in a deep breath before speaking. As her mouth opened, Brusilov spotted a sort of shine emanating from her eyes. It was very subtle, but she was activating her gift from the gods.
“I advise the crowd to quiet down! The announcement I am going to make will only benefit you!”
While the noise and jeers quieted down, they didn’t completely disappear. She nodded, pleased that most of the people were listening.
“I have come here today to your beautiful city of Holensburg to deliver a message to its wonderful people! I know that Holenstadters like to keep themselves busy, an admirable trait to be sure, so I will keep this brief.”
The knights on either side of her shouted and fell into a parade rest, performing an Imperial salute with both hands, allowing their halberds to clamber to the ground.
“I am ending the so-called ‘Reikification’ policies implemented by my father before me. This will be taking effect immediately.”
The crowd stood in stunned silence. The Empress continued.
“I have been doing a lot of thinking as of late. ‘Why are we Reikifying Holenstadt’, being a primary subject. I have come to the conclusion that we are doing so for no reason. You are fellow Imperials, part of the same Empire! Your difference should not be stamped out, it should instead be part of the Empire's beautiful tapestry of peoples!”
She took a deep breath before continuing.
“If we are to fulfill my father’s desire to unite the countries of the south under our banner, we must learn to not just tolerate different cultures, but to accept them, and incorporate them into our nation with pride! Holenstadters are part of the Empire, and so you are all Imperials. We have treated you wrongly, and that wrong must be righted.”
The crowd, tepidly, began to cheer. Not all at once, and not even the whole crowd, but there was absolutely celebration. Most of the crowd was simply too stunned to speak, and the others just had nothing to say.
“In light of my most recent epiphany, I will be righting said wrong. I am providing federal funds to create a Holensburg Museum of the Bszerci, where your culture will not only be preserved, but spread, expanded, and celebrated. Rejoice, people of Holensburg, for your ways have been saved!”
The crowd cheered, and Brusilov walked off.
I must report this to the Baron. As soon as possible. This could ruin everything!