Project Empress 023

 Entremés 2.1

Meanwhile in Monasteria

Manfred Brumotti von Burg was filled by the fire of righteous indignation. His trust and benevolence had been betrayed. One of his students, ‘Former students’, he corrected in his mind, had gone behind his back to the Lord-bishop to somehow trick him into giving her the official, holy quest to win the fencing title of an upcoming tournament somewhere in the South for the greater glory of Monasteria. How she had even known about that tournament wasn’t clear to him. Surely she had somehow heard about it while gossiping with one of her friends. But instead of telling him, her master, of it she had gone directly to the Lord-bishop and gotten the quest herself. She had also somehow talked some wandering ‘master’ into sponsoring her. That little bitch had so cunningly asked him to let her transfer to another master, which he graciously had allowed. It wasn’t a big loss for the academy, as she was what Manfred called a “fun fencer”, someone who took up the sword not for the glory of winning tournaments, but just for the sheer pleasure of playing around with it. Which was perfectly fine. The “fun fencers” had their own corner in the hall, where they could work on their sloppy footwork, bad form and general lack of talent. Sometimes, every once in a while, out of this pool, after enough years of hard work, someone rose from those ranks to become a proper fencer. But mostly they were there to well, have fun, pay their academy fees and bask in the glory of being part of the leading fencing academy of Monasteria. 

He would, of course, distance himself from this snake. And of course it was a woman… Manfred fumed. They really didn’t make it easy for him to protect them. So often they were weak, but that was only natural, but also entitled. Dreaming dreams above their natural station. Of course a female could take up the sword and they could even rise above the level of pure fun fencers. But within their bounds. They did have their pretend tournaments, their own little spaces to fence in a safe environment, were they could pretend to be martial artists. But in an open tournament? With men? Ridiculous. 

But no matter, in the end it had opened up a new golden opportunity for Manfred. The Lord-bishop, for reasons only clear to him, had decided that this strange tournament, in Vienna of all places, was now something that the church of Monasteria was very interested in winning for the greater glory of God and its humble city. If Manfred could get this title, it would not only enhance the renown of his academy, but more importantly bring him up to speaking terms with the Lord-bishop. Then, finally, his school would stand head and shoulders above the other pretender schools and back alley academies which dotted the city. All of them were trash, second rate places with questionable methods. 

The Lord-bishop’s blessing would bring that last bit of official recognition which would turn his academy into the academy, not only in the city but the entire region.

Apart from that, it was high time that Eskil, his master student moved up to the rank of junior master and took over some more responsibility. For now Manfred would oversee the training of the new one. It was important to get him to as high a level as possible in the short months that they had. But it was also important to have Eskil learn the ropes of the high art of teaching others, so that he could be sent out, like in this case, to some faraway contest that had the potential to bear rich fruit for the academy. If he won, it would be proof that Manfred was a master among masters and if he lost, well, then he had obviously overestimated Eskil’s skills and would have to push him harder to become worthy of the school he was training in.

The new pupil, a young blond man built like a work-in-progress Greek god, showed despite being wounded enormous amounts of talent. He was very athletic, had a lot of previous training and had that certain ‘killer instinct’ which was so often lost to the new soft generation. Most importantly, he had the will to become a champion. He, despite the broken nose, had been walking his lanes, working on his footwork for two days straight now. Slowly he was getting them just right, perfect step, perfect measure, perfectly straight. One or two days more and he’d be allowed to hold his first sword. 

‘Yes’, master Manfred thought to himself, ‘this betrayal may in end be a blessing in disguise.’

Entremés 2.2

Later on the Ruhig Blut and afterwards

Natalie was screaming and kicking, being held back by Erika, who held her in something between a hug and a grapple. 

After Natalie had dispatched the last few pirates, sending them packing, often in a high arc overboard, she had made sure that there weren’t any left skulking around and walked back around the containers to see how Cara was holding up. As she had arrived on Cara’s side of the ship, she noticed that a small group of Pirates had managed to climb the ship the hard way, overcoming the passive defences of it. Two were without much success trying to break open the steel door leading to the bridge. Wolfram had not even graced them with a sideways glance, focusing exclusively on the path ahead, while three others were moving down the gangway. One of them had moved midships right into Natalie’s staff, falling to the ground stunned by the blow. Natalie jumped over him, following the final two along the port side of the ship. Ahead, she could see a Cara fighting a pirate dressed in red wielding two long knifes. Her style was a bit rushed but pretty solid. Natalie smiled to herself. She was now speeding along to help her pupil mop up the rest of the attackers. 

Cara had just dispatched her enemy, when Natalie’s pride turned into something colder. Cara was standing above her fallen enemy enjoying the after glow of victory, while the two pirates behind her were now accelerating towards her. Natalie started to sprint, not yet yelling a warning, so that she could overwhelm the pirate next to here with the element of surprise. She was preparing her rush attack when she heard Erika’s warning above her.  

“Cara, attenta!”

But it was too late. The two pirates were already cutting their losses. The one closest to Cara had lifted a black metal fighting stick in his hand, which came crashing down, as Cara was turning around. 

As Cara fell unconscious, her attacker caught her in his arms, with one hand he attached a grappling hook to the rail and, throwing Cara over board, rappelled down after her. His companion, drawing what looked like a hand canon from his jacket turned around. Seeing Natalie storming towards her took aim at her.

Natalie dove to the ground as the pistol fired a red glowing ball of fire. The flare flew over Natalie’s head. As she scrambled back up, the other pirate had also sprung over the railing and rappelled into the fog below. Natalie had run back and forth along the gangway trying to see anything below, but there was only the mist and the rumbling of the engines, in the distance a murder of crows was complaining about the racket they had caused. But even they fell silent after a while, leaving only the memory of the attack behind. 

Natalie had run to Erika, screamed at her to turn around and get Cara. But Erika had told her that it was impossible. They could not stop in time, turning around would take considerable time, in which they would be sitting ducks.

They had to push on to Datlem. Only then could they do anything to help Cara. 

The moment they had passed the mighty portals to Datlem, the city that controlled two important canal crossroads, Natalie had been itching to go off board. She had planned their next steps with Erika while constantly peeking over the side of the ship to see if there was a place where she could safely jump on land. 

Erika was going to talk to the port authority once they anchored. While Datlem’s sphere of control officially only reached to its city limits, welcoming everyone who behaved within them, very careful not to ask too many questions, the city actively discouraged any kind of criminal activity close to its gates. That was considered extremely rude.

Natalie on her end, when she finally managed to jump off board, took the shortest route towards Datlem Cathedral. 

The city was neutral ground owned by the church. It was the most important trade hub in the region based on its very Christian ‘don’t judge. lest you be judged’ approach to its guests, which made the local priest regionaria Alperta P.A. a woman far more powerful than her modest rank of priestess would normally grant her. To keep that position, she had to play nice with the regional powers. First and foremost among them the bishopric of Monasteria. Keeping the Lord-bishop happy meant remaining independent. They had a mutually beneficial understanding that shielded the Regionaria from church intrigue while granting the Lord-bishop privileged access to trading goods and, more importantly, the newest gossip about the local powers.

Armed with her official Monasterian charter in hand, she knocked on the door of the administrative building. First with her hand, then with her foot, followed by her staff. 

An angry church Deacon opened the door, head deep red and ready to scream, but he was outscreamed by a furious Natalie. 

“I’m here on a mission from god!”, she yelled as she waved the sealed parchment in front of the Deacon’s face. The Deacon stumbled a few steps back, Natalie rushing after him like a tidal wave that was approaching the end of politeness. 

“I need to talk to Monsignora Alperta now! This is a life or death situation that must not be delayed.”

Some ruffled feathers and some fire breathing on Natalie’s part later, she was in front of the Regionaria, who was tending to her orchids in the conservatory of the cathedral. The older woman listened to Natalie’s demands while continuing her work. When Natalie had said her piece, the Regionaria laid down the scissors she was holding, took a tiny watering can, watered the orchid in front of her and then turned to Natalie. Setting the can aside, she took the parchment in Natalie’s hand, as she started to read at the document with intent, a pince-nez appeared on her nose. The assistant responsible for this, did so by discretely appearing from between the plants, vanishing back into them when he was done. 

The Regionaria read the document. Took of the pince-nez handing it over to the reappeared assistant. Gave back the parchment to Natalie and looked her in her eyes. 

Natalie’s eyes narrowed by a small degree, but she stayed calm never looking away.

The Regionaria nodded. She took a tiny bell from the table where she had put her watering can and rang it. A different assistant manifested out from the surrounding plants, a clipboard in his hands. 

The Regionaria dictated that two small but fast motorised craft were to be prepared. A strike and rescue team was to be assembled by tomorrow morning an hour before daybreak. Their mission to assist master Natalie Laukkanen Lapointe in locating and liberating her student Cara Gibson Müller as well as making an example of the brigands who had dared to kidnap one of the Lords chosen flock so close to the sacred grounds of Datlem city. 

“Tomorrow morning”, Natalie had pressed out between clenched teeth, the best she could do to maintain proper decorum. 

“Yes,” the regionaria said. “Tomorrow. We need to prepare. You need to eat, pray to the Lord and rest. Our scouts will need time to go ahead, to see where the possible targets are hiding. My analysts will need to go over the Seraphim data to see if we can track your attackers. And then, when we are ready, we will strike. The pirates took your charge alive, they won’t kill her overnight. There are no cannibals left in the Purgatory gap.”

“I understand, Monsignora”, Natalie said, pushing down her burning fury, pressing it into something colder and harder.