Posted: Tue Jul 15, 2014 3:59 am Post subject: Exposition! Action! Finland!
Looking for:
grammatical errors I missed
language that seems to go 'clunk'
paragraphs that seem to go 'snoooore'
Do I upload or include it as inline text?
Going with the latter.
Tweaked the last paragraph for a better ending.
Turku, Finland
Simon stared at the hand. He knew the hand belonged to him, but it seemed like a small creature stranded and lost at the end of his arm. Deja Vu meant a feeling of familiarity after experiencing something new. The French needed to make a word for when something felt strange, even though it was completely familiar. He closed the hand on a jacket, picking it up. It followed his instructions, it sat at the end of his arm, QED, it must be his. He felt like the punchline of an off-color joke from one of Jakob's bordellos, which ended with a strange child crying out “Father!”.
“Mein Gott Simon! Not that jacket! I’m going to a dinner, not a hanging! The blue one, it contrasts with my hair so well.”
Jakob’s lilting complaints stirred Simon from his reverie. “I’m sorry sir, I thought this was your blue jacket.” Simon began searching through the trunks again.
“BLUE, that jacket is indigo!” Jakob continued his complaints, “I mean really Simon, I realize you grew up with only a few items of clothing, but I thought you learned your colors at least!”
Simon brought out a blue velvet jacket with gold cording. “I believe this is the jacket sir.” Simon held the jacket open and Jakob slid an arm of warm flesh into one sleeve, and then one of steel and brass into the other. After inspecting it in the mirror and finding it to his liking, Jakob went about the rest of his dressing ritual. Simon followed him around the room, fetching this or touching up that.
An observer might have thought them brothers. They possessed similar muscular builds from years of working iron and and steel, and dragging shipments of rifle barrels and zeppelin parts across Europe and Asia Minor. They shared fair coloration and blond hair. Jakob's eyes shone forcefully with the blue of the Ruhr, where his family had been scions for a hundred years, and where the Krupps based their empire. Simon’s eyes showed with a watery green uncertainty. The watery green came from somewhere in his father's family, the uncertainty flowed from a childhood apart from those around him, always poorer, behind in his studies, and lacking the assurance of most children from magical families. The green eyes and a support check seemed his father’s only bequeathals after dying in a naval battle. Simon remembered him sometimes, but even before his father's death, he thought of him as a kindly sailor who appeared sporadically with gifts and hugs. His mother gave Simon the blond hair. Simon didn’t know which side of the family gifted him with command over metal. He mentally thanked that unknown ancestor at least once a day. What bond they shared came from metallomancy, rather than blood, although Jakob possessed greater ability. After particularly difficult days with the merchant prince, Simon thought Jakobs ability might simply be more celebrated, as befit a son of the house of Krupps. Over the five years Simon had served Jakob and the Krupps family, he had seen many difficult days. Jakob's Father, Gunther, taught his sons to view the world much like lions, as a place populated by other creatures, most of whom were weaker and fit only for eating.
Trained by tutors almost from the cradle, Jakob knew more of metallomancy than Simon. Simon worked in a factory until a floor boss saw him repair a broken wheelbarrow by sculpting the broken metal back together. Going from a factory laborer to a boys school, Simon's life underwent a tectonic shift. At the Doceo Magica, Simon learned the rudiments of magic, with a year spent trying each of the facets of magical endeavor, before the headmaster finally pronounced him a metallomancer. Or at least, his talents lay in that direction.
In some ways, the change from factory to schoolyard felt like a fall in status at the time. Among the other children working at the factory, Simon shone as the brightest and most motivated. Mr. Treakes, the owner, spoke to his mother about apprenticing him to one of the machinists. Upon arriving at the school, he found himself in classes with boys who were three and four years his junior, and who came from comfortable families of magicians. None possessed the wealth of the Krupps, but all had prosperity Simon only imagined in his one bedroom apartment with his mother. The other boys wore nicer clothes, and spent months forming bonds and friendships before his arrival. At the end of each day, most of them retired to a dormitory together, while Simon went home to his mother to study by a tallow candle, so that he might someday sit alongside boys his own age. On top of all of that, he loomed over the other boys from the back of the room, in a desk dragged in just for him. He was an outsider, and as such, open to ridicule.
He realized that the other boys’ families paid tuition, while his mother had struggled to keep them housed and fed, even with Simon’s help working eight hour shifts. Simon asked his teacher, Mrs. Carmoody, who paid his way. Mrs. Carmoody took Simon under her wing, her glares quelling the worst of the harassment. He posessed more discipline and motivation than her usual students, and seemed so pitiable sitting in the back of the room like an ox among sheep. “If you prove to have ability, one of the companies, or possible even the Queen will offer you a contract, and your tuition will be deducted from your earnings” Nervously, he asked, “What if I have no real ability?” She sympathetically patted him on the back. “Mr. Unther tells me that you are learning quickly. I think you don’t have anything to worry about on that score.”
Subsequent years bore her predictions out. Krupps hired him at seventeen, after demonstrating a competent albeit undistinguished ability in metallomancy. He spent four of his five years at the Doceo Magica working as hard as he could just to catch up with the other students his own age. By the end of his last year, he began to overtake some of his slower, less motivated peers. He hoped to stay another year, to finally prove himself their equal at the end, but the headmaster informed him he had been “Placed under contract”. When he had fantasized about his placement, Simon imagined himself shaking hands with a fine man after accepting a position. Instead, the headmaster simply handed it down as a fait accompli. Even so, he felt shock and gratitude when he saw his first year's salary. He hadn't known how much longer his mother could scrape by alone. His promised wages as an assistant metallomancer at Krupps left him light-headed and a little giddy. His mother earned two pounds, sixty pence a week, helping with the factory’s accounts, with another pound and twelve as a widow’s benefit. He was being offered eight pounds and thirty pence a week for an apprentice position! The school would take three pounds of that, but even so, he spent the rest of the day with a grin nearly splitting his face as he imagined helping his mother find a better apartment, eating fresh fruit more than three or four times a week, and perhaps even taking in a show in a new dress he bought her.
Nearly six years later, the excitement at the money had faded like the beauty of a thirty-six year old spinster heiress. His days seemed spent helping transport materials across Europe, or set up demonstrations, or taking some Sultan, Colonel, or Secretary of War to dinner and a bordello. A very good day might be spent perfecting a device, or engine, or new rifle. And always, always, always, one step behind Jakob, assisting Jakob, trying to laugh at Jakob's jokes or nod at his points, or ignore yet another of his casual slights. Slightly more than a year ago, Simon's mother passed away. Trapped attending to business in Bandirma, Turkey, he missed sharing her final days. Trapped attending to Jakob. Simon's true job centered, not on metallomancy, but on Jakob. Krupps Pater groomed Jakob as one of the future captains of Metallarbeitenkruppen's world-spanning empire of guns, steel and gears. It amused Gunther Krupps to have his sons compete against one another for the right to take over the company. Simon suspected that Gunther wouldn’t yield the reins until they were pried out of his fingers before placing him in a coffin. With Pater Krupp's death, the competition for control of Metallarbeitenkruppen would begin in earnest.
That orgy of fratricide remained easily ten or twenty years off. Gunther had only reached his sixtieth year and posessed the good health of the wealthy, aside from sporting two arms and a leg made of polished black steel. Before Krupps Manor flowed with blood, Simon hoped to be well out of Krupps and retired, or at the very least working for one of the other companies. When Simon daydreamed, fantasies of escape vied with imagined torrents of invective hurled at Jakob. Simon even fantasized about his destination. He imagined himself sailing into New York Harbor and staring up at Bartholdi's Statue Of Liberty. Simon heard of gifted metallomancers across the Atlantic. The engineers Judson and Achenite might value his abilities. Simon's fears made it almost painful to hope for somebody who valued him as more than a valet.
Certainly almost anything would be an improvement to his role as manservant to Jakob. On those occasions when Jakob worked metal, or sought solutions to problems of design and engineering, Simon stood beside him as his assistant. But Pater Krupps preferred Jakob as his envoy to the distant corners of Europe and the world, to negotiate and make the high value sales or purchases. Whether this preference came from Jakob's skill as a negotiator and salesman, or because of incompetence at engineering, Simon wasn’t sure. When they worked together, Simon felt himself Jakob’s equal in the enchanting of metal, although not in the engineering aspects. Whatever the reasons, Simon had expected a different job when he first saw that contract half a decade ago, and he did not want the job he had. But until last year, he needed the money to support his mother. Now he saved like a Scot, hoarding as much of the nine hundred pounds a year he now earned as he could.
“I swear Simon, if I were not here to remind you to bring it, I wonder if you’d remember your head.” Jakob snapped his fingers at Simon, gesturing to the door. “I’m curious if this Finnish bride my father has found for me will be warmer on our second meeting? That week in Frankfurt was almost unbearably dreary.”
From behind Jakob, Simon replied, “Finland is not a warm country, perhaps neither are its women.” Jakob snorted. “Very comforting Simon. You are my very own rainbow of joy for dark days.” As they left the hotel suite, the cold struck Simon like a slap to the face. The young lady had visited Jakob in Germany, so fairness demanded that now Jakob traveled to her homeland. Turku in April appeared suspiciously like London in Februrary. Drifts of snow remained piled up between the wooden buildings, reaching the the height of a man's waist in places. Hans, Jakob’s bodyguard, walked ahead of them. Hans lacked the towering size of other bodyguards but a witch in Gratswold enchanted him once a month. When he wished, Hans could move at five or ten times the speed of a normal man, although afterwards he always stood panting and shaking for minutes from the strain. He wore a rapier and main gauche on either side of his waist. Once, in Vienna, two hard Italians had taken exception to Jakob’s flirting with their female companions. When they moved up to threaten Jakob, Hans had seemed to disappear from across the room and reappear in a rush of air and thunderous noise. The two men became much more cordial when they each found a needle-tipped blade at their throats.
Simon considered Hans the closest he had to a friend. While Jakob possessed better sense to than to ridicule the person who might someday be called on to die defending him, Jakob mocked Hans to his friends during their drinking and carousing. Beyond a feeling of solidarity against Jakob’s ridicule, Simon appreciated Hans for training him to fight. Growing up in the the slums of London had left Simon with some rudimentary understanding of how to conduct himself in a fight but, unlike Jakob, Simon had a clear idea of the lawless depths that existed below the surface in the lands where he and Jakob swam.
Three years before, during one of Jakob's training sessions with Hans, Jakob grew frustrated with the impossibility of equaling his instructor, and the repetitive nature of training in general. Simon sat in the next room, working with a large spring, in an attempt to enchant it to rebound with greater force. “Simon! Leave that!” Jakob had commanded. “Join us here, you could stand to learn a thing or two as well.” Simon, actually interested in the spring problem, had sighed. The training turned into almost exactly what he’d feared, Jakob having yet another venue for abusing him, only physically this time. The first few months added yet another facet of frustration to his life with Jakob. Just as in school, Simon lagged years behind Jakob in training. Simon eventually discovered he had two advantages. First, Jakob couldn't be bothered to practice what Hans taught them outside of the lessons. Second, Hans seemed to try harder to teach Simon. While not abusive to Hans, Jakob's disiniterest showed clearly in the lessons, coming late and ending them as soon as he could find a pretext. Simon, hoping to someday defend himself against Jakob, followed Hans's instructions diligently. In addition, Simon showed Hans consideration as a person, asking him about his family and his life. From this Simon knew Hans had two sisters and a much younger brother. He planned to save his money and build a tavern on his uncle's inn in three or four more years. Hans never spoke of anybody, but a few times, Simon saw him slip out to meet another young man, and return glowing with joy. Jakob never said anything of the sort, but it seemed clear he placed Hans on the same plane as the horses that he rode. Sometimes Jakob would spend an evening in a brothel, or with a client, or occasionally both, leaving the two of them to their devices. With no other entertainment at hand, Hans began to teach Simon further.
The third time he managed to beat Jakob at fencing, Simon found himself attending to other duties while Hans taught Jakob. The occasional evening lessons with Hans continued, however. As appreciation, Simon spent a week enchanting a main gauche for Hans, one which kept a supernaturally keen edge, and had almost no mass. Hans wore it now as they traveled through the snowy streets of Turku.
The journey lasted twenty minutes, and twice they passed a cluster of men in long, threadbare jackets blowing on patched gloves for warmth, with bolt-action rifles on their shoulders. The red piping on their jackets and the plume rising from the officer's hat marked them as Russian soldiers. They stood at posts on the major intersections, a reminder that Finland belonged to Russia, at least for now. Jakob confided in Simon on the train from Germany, that his own 'dowry' might be a shipment of Krupps guns to the Finns. The Russian grip on Finland had tightened in the last few years, and some of the Finns chafed at this. Some who spoke out against the Russians disappeared, only to be found drowned a day or three later. “The strangest part? They showed no sign of injury other than the drowning.” Jakob had spoken in a very low voice, as if Russian agents might be listening in the train car. “And many of these were capable men who wouldn't have been subdued easily.” Then Jakob had shook his head. While the Krupps might be arming Finland in the future, these Russian soldiers seemed unaware of the threat their trio presented. After the second group, Simon and Jakob exchanged jokes about the laughable quality of their rifles compared to those Krupps produced. Rumor had it that some of the rifles in service were older than the soldiers carrying them. Finally, they arrived at their destination, The Dream Birch Restaurant, identified by a large birch tree rising out of its center, with small beds anchored in the branches.
The smells of venison, fish, potatoes and cabbage rolled out of restaurant when Hans opened the door. After Hans scanned the room and nodded his approval, Jakob entered, followed by Simon. Though Simon's watch showed 7 o'clock, the restaurant seemed empty except for two familiar women at a large table. Simon’s eye immediately went to the taller of the two, a willowy woman with almost white skin and long, ash-colored hair held back by garnet and citrine-headed hairpins. The style accentuated her angular features, while her hair flowed down her back. Brown eyes that seemed to pierce like surgeon's needles and an overly-prominent chin prevented Wilhemina Geil from achieving prettiness, but she certainly cut a striking figure whereever she went. To her left, Wilhemina’s maidservant and bodyguard, Annot seemed a short and barrel-bodied contrast. Not fat, but solid, with curly red hair that she kept short-cropped with only a plaited braid down her back, a face full of freckles. A brace of revolvers rode on her boyish hips, alongside a cutlass. Along with her demeanor, her weapons created the effect of a young woman in training to be a pirate. Annot and Simon met on Wilhemina’s previous visit. She tried a little too hard to be funny and likeable, with her humor seeming to be around the level of a twelve-year-old boy's. Nonetheless, she had an almost child-like enjoyment of life.
If Annot acted the dancing flame, Wilhemina seemed carved from ice, like the land that birthed her. She betrayed little emotion, either anger or happiness. She studied Jakob’s party dispassionately as they approached, bowing toward Jakob. “I’ve been counting the days until we could meet again Jakob. Now you are finally here. I hope to show you the beauty of my Finland as you showed me Germany.” It occurred to Simon that Wilhemina hadn’t actually said she was looking forward to Jakob’s visit. Just that she’d been marking off the days until his arrival. He wondered if perhaps she was as unenthusiastic about this arrangement as Jakob was.
The wedding would happen either way. Jakob's explanation of this reality surprised Simon. At the stratospheric levels of wealth and ambition the Krupps soared through, marriage and love had less to do with one another than love and metalwork. Marriages served to consolidate holdings between families. In Wilhemina’s case, she acted as a link to Olavi Geil and Laila Skonen. Olavi was the youngest son of the Geils, who controlled the Kolari iron mines of Finland. Laila’s role fell more in shadow, but rumors placed her mother and aunts among the storied rune witches of Finland. They practiced shamanic magic, a different style than Simon and Jakob’s thaumaturgy. Legend told of Odin himself first creating rune magic, allowing the binding of spirits and other powers beyond thaumaturgists. At the Doceo Magicka, Simon had read about the subtle effectiveness of the Viking magic. Gunther hoped to crack that particular nut, allowing Jakob or his children to bring it into the Krupps empire.
Jakob and Wilhemina seemed cast as dance partners, but the moves were largely choreographed. The first act of the ballet now completed without incident, the second act now began. Lacking familiarity with the gamesmanship of the upper class, Simon had no idea how long the dance might last. He hoped that when the marriage finally happened, either Jakob continued to live in Germany, or Simon freed himself of Krupps net by then. If this was Finland in April, then December and January must be a hell of frozen damnation indeed. Thankfully, Simon had only a miniscule role in the dance. He didn't know why Jakob brought him along, in fact. Simon wondered if his duties were anything like being a second at a duel, obligated to complete the endeavor if the the duelist could not see the matter through. Watching Wilhemina in her reserved glory, he decided that he would refuse that duty if it were thrust upon him.
Each side exchanged pleasantries, with Jakob praising Wilhemina’s jewelry and beauty, and Wilhemina trying ineffectually to play the part of the modest lady. Jakob looked pointedly at Simon, who was unsure what to say. He didn’t want to praise Jakob’s future bride too strongly, for fear of appearing forward, yet apparently he was expected to say something kind. He raised a glass of rhiesling, “It has been some time since I was in the presence of two such lovely and gracious ladies, but if it is five years until the next time, I will have this memory to sustain me.” The other three laughed, and drank with him. “Very pretty Simon. Perhaps we should move you from our metallomancy department to our sales department. I don’t know if your steelwork is as elegant as your words.”
Inwardly Simon burned at the backhanded compliment. “You mean we are not the sales branch of Kruppenfirma?” Simon teased back, his face warming with irritation. Jakob bristle a little at the joke, or perhaps the tone of Simon's voice. Jakob worried about how little of the ‘real work’ of Krupps he was being allowed to do. His brothers Gustav and Ludo worked in Germany, perfecting new designs with Papi Gunther. His father ‘exiled’ Jakob to Lars Bergdorff, Krupps Second-In-Command. Bergdorff managed the business side of the company, but Gunther pioneered cannon barrels that were enchanted to withstand greater force without shattering, and steam engines that funneled even more of the heat from their furnaces into the boilers.
Jakob opened his mouth to insult Simon, his face reddening, but at the last moment, he thought of his future bride across the table. He forced a smile, though his eyes were like coals of anger. “Jah Simon, and tonight we are attempting to convince this beautiful lady to make a lifetime purchase of one slightly travel-worn German, with an English friend included in the deal.”
Simon bowed in his seat. “I am honored to be included as an incentive on your purchase Sir.”
Wilhemina arched an eyebrow, “So the two of you are comedians. Not a skill we have great need of in Finland. Do you have any other skills?”
Jakob smiled. “Also, milady, I am a florist.” He took a silver fork under the table and concentrated on it, tugging and pulling.
“What flower is it you’re pulling at there milord? Is it long stemmed?” Annot joked, a scampish smile focusing attention on the double entendre’ in what she had said. Wilhemina actually smiled at the joke, and Simon couldn’t help but smirk at Jakob being the butt of her brazen crudeness.
A moment later, Jakob lifted up a fine, thin, silver rose, shaped from the silver of the fork. “For milady.” He said, presenting it to Wilhemina.
“It is a beautiful rose” She said, “But it has no thorns.” Simon knew that adding each thorn would have been time and energy intensive. As it was, Jakob now glowed with recent exertion, even though to an observer he only sat immobile.
“Not all things of beauty need thorns, milady.” Jakob said.
Wilhemina nodded appreciatively at the wordplay. “But do not all things have their ‘thorns’ master Jakob? At least on roses they are on plain display, so one might beware. On people you never see them until they sting you.”
Simon felt compelled to respond. “I don’t know if that is true milady. My mother traveled through life as gentle and harmless as a new-born lamb. I’m sure if you think, you will recall others who existed only in kindness.”
Wilhemina considered Simon again. “Are there people who have no sharp edges? Or are they simply not able to display them?” She asked.
Annot gasped next to the graceful Finn. All eyes at the table turned to her, curious to hear what part of this statement had startled her, only to draw back as Annot drew her cutlass and one of her pistols. “Danger milady! Danger comes!” Wilhemina turned about, casting nervously for the foretold threat. “Which direction?” The lady asked. Jakob and Simon only looked at Annot bemusedly, wondering what this was about. “What does your lady know?” Hans asked, appearing next to Annot from across the room in a whoosh and a rat-a-tat of footsteps. His rapier and main gauche gleamed in his hands, pointed near the Scottish girl, but not directly at her. Not yet.
“She has some faerie blood. It gives her second sight.” Wilhemina began. The men had just begun to process this when Hans staggered backward, and a window shattered, along with the ‘crack’ of a gunshot. Two enormous gray wolves appeared at the window, smashing the glass further, unconcerned about the cuts the glass made on their paws. The Manikkos, who owned the Dream Birch, appeared from the kitchen. Vilho wielded a meat cleaver in one hand, and Konsta bore a long carving knife, but both regarded the wolves fearfully. From there, the room descended into pandemonium.
Annot grabbed Wilhemina, and pulled her to the ground. “Someone is shooting from outside!” She said. Jakob dived from his chair to the floor, drawing his saber, while Simon crawled over to Hans, whose lifeblood fountained out of his thigh in a widening pool of dark crimson. Simon reflected on the horrible luck of the shot. Like all three of them, Hans wore an enchanted shirt of mail under his jacket which would have stopped any bullet. It was a gift from Gunther Krupps, for the lawless areas their travels took them. The shirt would not protect arms, legs, or throat from the teeth of wolves however. “He is done for!” Said Jakob, “Grab his weapons and stand with me!”, he continued, rising behind one of the thick wooden pillars that braced the dining room. Another shot rang out, creating a groove on the pillar Jakob was standing behind, and felling Vilho Manikkos.
The wolves bounded through the window, first one, then a second, and finally a third. The third was intercepted by a flurry of shots from Annot’s pistol, catching it in the head and chest. The wolf tumbled to the ground in the dining room, while its two fellows disappeared behind the other tables and chairs. From outside, an unearthly howl resonated through the window and the walls. A moment later the two wolves echoed the howl from their cover, filling the dining room with a sound that weakened Simon’s legs and resolve. He found himself hoping for a quick death if only to stop the fear.
Konsta stared for a moment at Vilhos’ body and fled back into the kitchen. “Good idea.” Annot suggested. “We can get clear of our sniper. The kitchen have fewer windows and more cover.” Annot pointed after Konta. “Weave as you run.” She added as an afterthought, “I'll stay while you get to safety.” Jakob opened his mouth to argue, and then reason or cowardice silenced him. “Thank you” he said, and bolted for the kitchen, staggering as he traveled, as if drunk. Even so, a bullet grazed his left arm as he went through the kitchen door. Simon grabbed the rapier and main gauche from the ground next to Hans. The warmth in the grips managed to shake Simon a bit more, thinking of Hans growing cold forever. The two wolves lunged out of cover, and were met with gunfire from Annot. They disregarded it as if a light rain fell on them, and not lead bullets. One launched itself at her through the air, and the other lunged at her legs. Simon tried to watch as he too wobbled in a sprint for the kitchen entrance. He didn’t see exactly how, but Annot somehow evaded both wolves in a spastic dance while slashing with her cutlass. It sank deeply into the flank of one and when it came out, barely any blood showed on the blade or the wolf.
After that Simon lost sight of Annot. In the kitchen, he saw Jakob, a red stain growing on his sleeve, waiting with steel drawn. To one side of the kitchen was an open door, icy air blowing in, and footsteps leading out where Konta had fled. They wheeled as Wilhemina charged into the kitchen, then tumbled forward as a shot rang out. Jakob dived to grab her, pulling her out of the line of fire. Another shot rang out, and Jakob grunted, but by good fortune, the bullet impacted on the mail vest covering his shoulder. Wilhemina suffered far worse luck. The blood welled out of her throat more slowly than it did from Hans, but still too quickly to be a good omen. She rasped and coughed, her normally piercing eyes wide with panic. Annot grabbed a towel from the counter and squeezed it to Wilhemina's throat. From the door, the wolves growls almost sounded like laughter.
Posted: Fri Jul 18, 2014 6:33 pm Post subject: Byron line edits
Turku, Finland [Year?]
Simon stared at the hand. He knew the hand belonged to him, but it seemed like a small creature stranded and lost at the end of his arm. [Déjà vu] meant a feeling of familiarity after experiencing something new. The French needed to make a word for when something felt strange, even though it was completely familiar. He closed the hand on a jacket, picking it up. It followed his instructions, it sat at the end of his arm, QED, it must be his. He felt like the punchline of an off-color joke from one of Jakob's bordellos, which ended with a strange child crying out “Father!” [deleted period]
[This certainly arouses my curiosity. Perhaps too much – it’s distracting me from later details. I keep wondering what’s wrong with his hand.]
“Mein Gott Simon! Not that jacket! I’m going to a dinner, not a hanging! The blue one, it contrasts with my hair so well.”
[So now I’m wondering about the language they’re speaking. “Mein Gott” sounds German, as does the name Jakob. So are they speaking German? Or English with a German accent? Or Finnish with a German accent? Finnish is a notoriously difficult language.]
Jakob’s lilting [Is this describing his German accent?] complaints stirred Simon from his reverie. “I’m sorry sir, I thought this was your blue jacket.” Simon began searching through the trunks again.
“BLUE[? T]hat jacket is indigo!” Jakob continued his complaints, “I mean really Simon, I realize you grew up with only a few items of clothing, but I thought you learned your colors at least!”
Simon brought out a blue velvet jacket with gold cording. “I believe this is the jacket sir.” Simon held the jacket open and Jakob slid an arm of warm flesh into one sleeve, and then one of steel and brass into the other. After inspecting it in the mirror and finding it to his liking, Jakob went about the rest of his dressing ritual. Simon followed him around the room, fetching this or touching up that.
[So Jakob has a cybernetic arm? Is that related the way Simon feels about his hand?]
An observer might have thought them brothers. They possessed similar muscular builds from years of working iron and and steel, [of] dragging shipments of rifle barrels and zeppelin parts across Europe and Asia Minor. They shared fair coloration and blond hair. Jakob's eyes shone forcefully with the blue of the Ruhr, where his family had been scions for a hundred years, and where the Krupps based their empire. [Is Jakob a Krupp? If so, combine those two phrases.] Simon’s eyes showed with a watery green uncertainty. The watery green came from somewhere in his father's family[;] the uncertainty flowed from a childhood apart from those around him, always poorer, [always] behind in his studies, and lacking the assurance of most children from magical families. The green eyes and a support check seemed his father’s only [legacies]after dying in a naval battle. Simon remembered him sometimes, but even before his father's death, he [had] thought of him as a kindly sailor who appeared sporadically with gifts and hugs. His mother [had given] Simon the blond hair. Simon didn’t know which side of the family [had] gifted him with command over metal[, but] he mentally thanked that unknown ancestor at least once a day. What bond they [Jakob and Simon?] shared came from metallomancy, rather than blood, although Jakob possessed greater ability. After particularly difficult days with the merchant prince, Simon thought Jakob[‘]s ability might simply be more celebrated, as befit a son of the house of Krupps. [Contradiction – rephrase] Over the five years Simon had served Jakob and the Krupps family, he had seen many difficult days. Jakob's Father, Gunther, taught his sons to view the world much like lions, as a place populated by other creatures, most of whom were weaker and fit only for eating.
Trained by tutors almost from the cradle, Jakob knew more of metallomancy than Simon. Simon [had] worked in a factory until a floor boss saw him repair a broken wheelbarrow by sculpting the broken metal back together. Going from a factory laborer to a boys[‘] school, Simon's life underwent a tectonic shift. At the Doceo Magica, Simon learned the rudiments of magic, with a year spent trying each of the facets of magical endeavor, [what are the facets? How many of them are there, at least?] before the headmaster finally pronounced him a metallomancer. Or at least, his talents lay in that direction.
In some ways, the change from factory to schoolyard [had] felt like a fall in status at the time. Among the other children working at the factory, Simon [had] shone as the brightest and most motivated. Mr. Treakes, the owner, [had even]spoke[n] to his mother about apprenticing him to one of the machinists. Upon arriving at the school, [Simon had] found himself in classes with boys who were three and four years his junior, and who came from comfortable families of magicians. None possessed the wealth of the Krupps, but all had prosperity Simon only imagined in his one bedroom apartment with his mother. The other boys wore nicer clothes, and [had] spent months forming bonds and friendships before his arrival. At the end of each day, most of them retired to a dormitory together, while Simon went home to his mother to study by a tallow candle, so that he might someday sit alongside boys his own age. On top of all of that, he loomed over the other boys from the back of the room, in a desk dragged in just for him. He was an outsider, and as such, open to ridicule.
He realized that the other boys’ families paid tuition, while his mother had struggled to keep them housed and fed, even with Simon’s help working eight[-]hour shifts. Simon asked his teacher, Mrs. Carmoody, who paid his way. Mrs. Carmoody [had taken] Simon under her wing, her glares quelling the worst of the harassment. He [possessed] more discipline and motivation than her usual students, and seemed so pitiable sitting in the back of the room like an ox among sheep. “If you prove to have ability, one of the companies, or possible even the Queen will offer you a contract, and your tuition will be deducted from your earnings[.]” Nervously, he asked, “What if I have no real ability?” She sympathetically patted him on the back. “Mr. Unther tells me that you are learning quickly. I think you don’t have anything to worry about on that score.”
Subsequent years bore her predictions out. Krupps hired him at seventeen, after demonstrating a competent albeit undistinguished ability in metallomancy. He spent four of his five years at the Doceo Magica working as hard as he could just to catch up with the other students his own age. By the end of his last year, he began to overtake some of his slower, less motivated peers. He hoped to stay another year, to finally prove himself their equal at the end, but the headmaster informed him he had been “Placed under contract”. When he had fantasized about his placement, Simon imagined himself shaking hands with a fine man after accepting a position. Instead, the headmaster simply handed it down as a fait accompli. Even so, he felt shock and gratitude when he saw his first year's salary. He hadn't known how much longer his mother could scrape by alone. His promised wages as an assistant metallomancer at Krupps left him light-headed and a little giddy. His mother earned two pounds, sixty pence a week, helping with the factory’s accounts, with another pound and twelve as a widow’s benefit. He was being offered eight pounds and thirty pence a week for an apprentice position! The school would take three pounds of that, but even so, he spent the rest of the day with a grin nearly splitting his face as he imagined helping his mother find a better apartment, eating fresh fruit more than three or four times a week, and perhaps even taking in a show in a new dress he bought her.
Nearly six years later, the excitement at the money had faded like the beauty of a thirty-six year old spinster heiress. [Why so specific an age?] H[e spent his] days helping transport materials across Europe, or set[ting] up demonstrations, or taking some Sultan, Colonel, or Secretary of War to dinner and a bordello. A very good day might be spent perfecting a device, or engine, or new rifle. And always, always, always, one step behind Jakob, assisting Jakob, trying to laugh at Jakob's jokes or nod at his points, or ignore yet another of his casual slights. Slightly more than a year ago, Simon's mother passed away. Trapped attending to business in Bandirma, Turkey, he missed sharing her final days. Trapped attending to Jakob. Simon's true job centered, not on metallomancy, but on Jakob. Krupps Pater [had] groomed Jakob as one of the future captains of Metallarbeitenkruppen's world-spanning empire of guns, steel and gears. It amused Gunther Krupps to have his sons compete against one another for the right to take over the company. Simon suspected that Gunther wouldn’t yield the reins until they were pried out of his fingers before placing him in a coffin. With Pater Krupp's death, the competition for control of Metallarbeitenkruppen would begin in earnest.
That orgy of fratricide remained easily ten or twenty years off. Gunther had only reached his sixtieth year and [possessed] the good health of the wealthy, aside from sporting two arms and a leg made of polished black steel. Before Krupps Manor flowed with blood, Simon hoped to be well out of Krupps and retired, or at the very least working for one of the other companies. When Simon daydreamed, fantasies of escape vied with imagined torrents of invective hurled at Jakob. Simon even fantasized about his destination. He imagined himself sailing into New York Harbor and staring up at Bartholdi's Statue Of Liberty. Simon [had] heard of gifted metallomancers across the Atlantic. The engineers Judson and Achenite might value his abilities. Simon's fears made it almost painful to hope for somebody who valued him as more than a valet.
Certainly almost anything would be an improvement to his role as manservant to Jakob. On those occasions when Jakob worked metal, or sought solutions to problems of design and engineering, Simon stood beside him as his assistant. But Pater Krupps preferred Jakob as his envoy to the distant corners of Europe and the world, to negotiate and make the high[-]value sales or purchases. Whether this preference came from Jakob's skill as a negotiator and salesman, or because of incompetence at engineering, Simon wasn’t sure. When they worked together, Simon felt himself Jakob’s equal in the enchanting of metal, although not in the engineering aspects. Whatever the reasons, Simon had expected a different job when he first saw that contract half a decade ago, and he did not want the job he had. But until last year, he [had] needed the money to support his mother. Now he saved like a Scot, hoarding as much of the nine hundred pounds a year he now earned as he could.
“I swear Simon, if I were not here to remind you to bring it, I wonder if you’d remember your head.” Jakob snapped his fingers at Simon, gesturing to the door. “I’m curious if this Finnish bride my father has found for me will be warmer on our second meeting? That week in Frankfurt was almost unbearably dreary.”
From behind Jakob, Simon replied, “Finland is not a warm country, perhaps neither are its women.” Jakob snorted. “Very comforting Simon. You are my very own rainbow of joy for dark days.” As they left the hotel suite, the cold struck Simon like a slap to the face. The young lady had visited Jakob in Germany, so fairness demanded that now Jakob traveled to her homeland. Turku in April appeared suspiciously like London in Februrary. Drifts of snow remained piled up between the wooden buildings, reaching [the] height of a man's waist in places. Hans, Jakob’s bodyguard, walked ahead of them. Hans lacked the towering size of other bodyguards but a witch in Gratswold enchanted him once a month. When he wished, Hans could move at five or ten times the speed of a normal man, although afterwards he always stood panting and shaking for minutes from the strain. He wore a rapier and main gauche on either side of his waist. Once, in Vienna, two hard Italians had taken exception to Jakob’s flirting with their female companions. When they moved up to threaten Jakob, Hans had seemed to disappear from across the room and reappear in a rush of air and thunderous noise. The two men became much more cordial when they each found a needle-tipped blade at their throats.
Simon considered Hans the closest he had to a friend. While Jakob possessed better sense to than to ridicule the person who might someday be called on to die defending him, Jakob mocked Hans to his friends during their drinking and carousing. Beyond a feeling of solidarity against Jakob’s ridicule, Simon appreciated Hans for training him to fight. Growing up in the the slums of London had left Simon with some rudimentary understanding of how to conduct himself in a fight but, unlike Jakob, Simon had a clear idea of the lawless depths that existed below the surface in the lands where he and Jakob swam.
Three years before, during one of Jakob's training sessions with Hans, Jakob grew frustrated with the impossibility of equaling his instructor, and the repetitive nature of training in general. Simon sat in the next room, working with a large spring, in an attempt to enchant it to rebound with greater force. “Simon! Leave that!” Jakob had commanded. “Join us here, you could stand to learn a thing or two as well.” Simon, actually interested in the spring problem, had sighed. The training turned into almost exactly what he’d feared, Jakob having yet another venue for abusing him, only physically this time. The first few months added yet another facet of frustration to his life with Jakob. Just as in school, Simon lagged years behind Jakob in training. Simon eventually discovered he had two advantages. First, Jakob couldn't be bothered to practice what Hans taught them outside of the lessons. Second, Hans seemed to try harder to teach Simon. While not abusive to Hans, Jakob's [disinterest] showed clearly in the lessons, coming late and ending them as soon as he could find a pretext. Simon, hoping to someday defend himself against Jakob, followed Hans's instructions diligently. In addition, Simon showed Hans consideration as a person, asking him about his family and his life. From this Simon knew Hans had two sisters and a much younger brother. He planned to save his money and build a tavern on his uncle's inn in three or four more years. Hans never spoke of anybody, but a few times, Simon saw him slip out to meet another young man, and return glowing with joy. Jakob never said anything of the sort, but it seemed clear he placed Hans on the same plane as the horses that he rode. Sometimes Jakob would spend an evening in a brothel, or with a client, or occasionally both, leaving the two of them to their devices. With no other entertainment at hand, Hans began to teach Simon further.
The third time he managed to beat Jakob at fencing, Simon found himself attending to other duties while Hans taught Jakob. The occasional evening lessons with Hans continued, however. As appreciation, Simon spent a week enchanting a main gauche for Hans, one which kept a supernaturally keen edge, and had almost no mass. Hans wore it now as they traveled through the snowy streets of Turku.
The journey lasted twenty minutes, and twice they passed cluster[s] of men in long, threadbare jackets blowing on patched gloves for warmth, with bolt-action rifles on their shoulders. The red piping on their jackets and the plume rising from the officer's hat marked them as Russian soldiers. They stood at posts on the major intersections, a reminder that Finland belonged to Russia, at least for now. Jakob [had] confided in Simon on the train from Germany that his own 'dowry' might be a shipment of Krupps guns to the Finns. The Russian grip on Finland had tightened in the last few years, and some of the Finns chafed at this. Some who spoke out against the Russians disappeared, only to be found drowned a day or three later. “The strangest part? They showed no sign of injury other than the drowning.” Jakob had spoken in a very low voice, as if Russian agents might be listening in the train car. “And many of these were capable men who wouldn't have been subdued easily.” Then Jakob had shook his head. While the Krupps might be arming Finland in the future, these Russian soldiers seemed unaware of the threat their trio presented. After the second group, Simon and Jakob exchanged jokes about the laughable quality of their rifles compared to those Krupps produced. Rumor had it that some of the rifles in service were older than the soldiers carrying them. Finally, they arrived at their destination, The Dream Birch Restaurant, identified by a large birch tree rising out of its center, with small beds anchored in the branches.
The smells of venison, fish, potatoes and cabbage rolled out of restaurant when Hans opened the door. After Hans scanned the room and nodded his approval, Jakob entered, followed by Simon. Though Simon's watch showed 7 o'clock, the restaurant seemed empty except for two familiar women at a large table. Simon’s eye immediately went to the taller of the two, a willowy woman with almost white skin and long, ash-colored hair held back by garnet and citrine-headed hairpins. The style accentuated her angular features, while her hair flowed down her back. Brown eyes that seemed to pierce like surgeon's needles and an overly-prominent chin prevented Wilhemina Geil from achieving prettiness, but she certainly cut a striking figure [wherever] she went. To her left, Wilhemina’s maidservant and bodyguard, Annot[,] [made] a short and barrel-bodied contrast. Not fat, but solid, with curly red hair that she kept short-cropped with only a plaited braid down her back, a face full of freckles. [fragment] A brace of revolvers rode on her boyish hips, [wouldn’t boyish hips be more slender than girlish ones?] alongside a cutlass. Along with her demeanor, her weapons created the effect of a young woman in training to be a pirate. Annot and Simon [had] met on Wilhemina’s previous visit. She tried a little too hard to be funny and likeable, with her humor seeming to be around the level of a twelve-year-old boy's. Nonetheless, she had an almost child-like enjoyment of life.
If Annot acted the dancing flame, Wilhemina seemed carved from ice, like the land that birthed her. [] She studied Jakob’s party dispassionately as they approached, bowing toward Jakob. “I’ve been counting the days until we could meet again[,] Jakob. Now you are finally here. I hope to show you the beauty of my Finland as you showed me Germany.” It occurred to Simon that Wilhemina hadn’t actually said she was looking forward to Jakob’s visit. Just that she’d been marking off the days until his arrival. He wondered if perhaps she was as unenthusiastic about this arrangement as Jakob was.
The wedding would happen either way. Jakob's explanation of this reality surprised Simon. At the stratospheric levels of wealth and ambition the Krupps soared through, marriage and love had less to do with one another than love and metalwork. Marriages served to consolidate holdings between families. In Wilhemina’s case, she acted as a link to Olavi Geil and Laila Skonen. Olavi was the youngest son of the Geils, who controlled the Kolari iron mines of Finland. Laila’s role [was more shadowy], but rumors placed her mother and aunts among the storied rune witches of Finland. They practiced shamanic magic, a different style than Simon and Jakob’s thaumaturgy. Legend told of Odin himself first creating rune magic, allowing the binding of spirits and other powers beyond thaumaturgists. At the Doceo Magicka, Simon had read about the subtle effectiveness of the Viking magic. Gunther hoped to crack that particular nut, allowing Jakob or his children to bring it into the Krupps empire.
Jakob and Wilhemina seemed cast [what do you mean?] as dance partners, but the moves were largely choreographed. The first act of the ballet now completed without incident, the second act now began. Lacking familiarity with the gamesmanship of the upper class, Simon had no idea how long the dance might last. He hoped that when the marriage finally happened, either Jakob [would] continue to live in Germany, or Simon [would have] freed himself of Krupps[‘] net by then. If this was Finland in April, then December and January must be a hell of frozen damnation indeed. Thankfully, Simon had only a miniscule role in the dance. He didn't know why Jakob [had] brought him along, in fact. Simon wondered if his duties were anything like being a second at a duel, obligated to complete the endeavor if the [] duelist could not see the matter through. Watching Wilhemina in her reserved glory, he decided that he would refuse that duty if it were thrust upon him.
Each side exchanged pleasantries, with Jakob praising Wilhemina’s jewelry and beauty, and Wilhemina trying ineffectually to play the part of the modest lady. Jakob looked pointedly at Simon, who was unsure what to say. He didn’t want to praise Jakob’s future bride too strongly, for fear of appearing forward, yet apparently he was expected to say something kind. He raised a glass of [Riesling], “It has been some time since I was in the presence of two such lovely and gracious ladies, but if it is five years until the next time, I will have this memory to sustain me.” The other three laughed, and drank with him. “Very pretty Simon. Perhaps we should move you from our metallomancy department to our sales department. I don’t know if your steelwork is as elegant as your words.”
Inwardly Simon burned at the backhanded compliment. “You mean we are not the sales branch of Kruppenfirma?” Simon teased back, his face warming with irritation. Jakob bristle[d] a little at the joke, or perhaps the tone of Simon's voice. Jakob worried about how little of the ‘real work’ of Krupps he was being allowed to do. His brothers Gustav and Ludo worked in Germany, perfecting new designs with Papi Gunther. His father [had] ‘exiled’ Jakob to Lars Bergdorff, Krupps Second-In-Command. Bergdorff managed the business side of the company, but Gunther pioneered cannon barrels that were enchanted to withstand greater force without shattering, and steam engines that funneled even more of the heat from their furnaces into the boilers.
Jakob opened his mouth to insult Simon, his face reddening, but at the last moment, he thought of his future bride across the table. He forced a smile, though his eyes were like coals of anger. “Ja[,] Simon, and tonight we are attempting to convince this beautiful lady to make a lifetime purchase of one slightly travel-worn German, with an English friend included in the deal.”
Simon bowed in his seat. “I am honored to be included as an incentive on your purchase Sir.”
Wilhemina arched an eyebrow, “So the two of you are comedians. Not a skill we have great need of in Finland. Do you have any other skills?”
Jakob smiled. “Also, milady, I am a florist.” He took a silver fork under the table and concentrated on it, tugging and pulling.
“What flower is it you’re pulling at there milord? Is it long stemmed?” Annot joked, a scampish smile focusing attention on the double entendre’ in what she had said. Wilhemina actually smiled at the joke, and Simon couldn’t help but smirk at Jakob being the butt of her brazen crudeness.
A moment later, Jakob lifted up a fine, thin, silver rose, shaped from the silver of the fork. “For milady.” He said, presenting it to Wilhemina.
“It is a beautiful rose” She said, “But it has no thorns.” Simon knew that adding each thorn would have been time and energy intensive. As it was, Jakob now glowed with recent exertion, even though to an observer he only sat immobile.
“Not all things of beauty need thorns, milady.” Jakob said.
Wilhemina nodded appreciatively at the wordplay. “But do not all things have their ‘thorns’ master Jakob? At least on roses they are on plain display, so one might beware. On people you never see them until they sting you.”
Simon felt compelled to respond. “I don’t know if that is true milady. My mother traveled through life as gentle and harmless as a new-born lamb. I’m sure if you think, you will recall others who existed only in kindness.”
Wilhemina considered Simon again. “Are there people who have no sharp edges? Or are they simply not able to display them?” She asked.
Annot gasped next to the graceful Finn. All eyes at the table turned to her, curious to hear what part of this statement had startled her, only to draw back as Annot drew her cutlass and one of her pistols. “Danger milady! Danger comes!” Wilhemina turned about, casting nervously for the foretold threat. “Which direction?” The lady asked. Jakob and Simon only looked at Annot bemusedly, wondering what this was about. “What does your lady know?” Hans asked, appearing next to Annot from across the room in a whoosh and a rat-a-tat of footsteps. His rapier and main gauche gleamed in his hands, pointed near the Scottish girl [so Annot is Scottish? Maybe say that earlier], but not directly at her. Not yet.
“She has some faerie blood. It gives her second sight.” Wilhemina began. The men had just begun to process this when Hans staggered backward, and a window shattered, along with the ‘crack’ of a gunshot. Two enormous gray wolves appeared at the window, smashing the glass further, unconcerned about the cuts the glass made on their paws. The Manikkos, who owned the Dream Birch, appeared from the kitchen. Vilho wielded a meat cleaver in one hand, and Konsta bore a long carving knife, but both regarded the wolves fearfully. From there, the room descended into pandemonium.
Annot grabbed Wilhemina, and pulled her to the ground. “Someone is shooting from outside!” She said. Jakob dived from his chair to the floor, drawing his saber, while Simon crawled over to Hans, whose lifeblood fountained out of his thigh in a widening pool of dark crimson. Simon reflected on the horrible luck of the shot. Like all three of them, Hans wore an enchanted shirt of mail under his jacket which would have stopped any bullet. It was a gift from Gunther Krupps, for the lawless areas their travels took them. The shirt would not protect arms, legs, or throat from the teeth of wolves however. “He is done for!” Said Jakob, “Grab his weapons and stand with me!”, he continued, rising behind one of the thick wooden pillars that braced the dining room. Another shot rang out, creating a groove on the pillar Jakob was standing behind, and felling Vilho Manikkos.
The wolves bounded through the window, first one, then a second, and finally a third. The third was intercepted by a flurry of shots from Annot’s pistol [they have repeating pistols? I guess the pirate description made me think of flintlocks], catching it in the head and chest. The wolf tumbled to the ground in the dining room, while its two fellows disappeared behind the other tables and chairs. From outside, an unearthly howl resonated through the window and the walls. A moment later the two wolves echoed the howl from their cover, filling the dining room with a sound that weakened Simon’s legs and resolve. He found himself hoping for a quick death if only to stop the fear.
Konsta stared for a moment at Vilhos’ body and fled back into the kitchen. “Good idea.” Annot suggested. “We can get clear of our sniper. The kitchen have fewer windows and more cover.” Annot pointed after Konta. “Weave as you run.” She added as an afterthought, “I'll stay while you get to safety.” Jakob opened his mouth to argue, and then reason or cowardice silenced him. “Thank you[,]” he said, and bolted for the kitchen, staggering as he traveled, as if drunk. Even so, a bullet grazed his left arm as he went through the kitchen door. Simon grabbed the rapier and main gauche from the ground next to Hans. The warmth in the grips managed to shake Simon a bit more, thinking of Hans growing cold forever. The two wolves lunged out of cover, and were met with gunfire from Annot. They disregarded it as if a light rain fell on them, and not lead bullets. One launched itself at her through the air, and the other lunged at her legs. Simon tried to watch as he too wobbled in a sprint for the kitchen entrance. He didn’t see exactly how, but Annot somehow evaded both wolves in a spastic dance while slashing with her cutlass. It sank deeply into the flank of one and when it came out, barely any blood showed on the blade or the wolf.
After that Simon lost sight of Annot. In the kitchen, he saw Jakob, a red stain growing on his sleeve, waiting with steel drawn. To one side of the kitchen was an open door, icy air blowing in, and footsteps leading out where Konta had fled. They wheeled as Wilhemina charged into the kitchen, then tumbled forward as a shot rang out. Jakob dived to grab her, pulling her out of the line of fire. Another shot rang out, and Jakob grunted, but by good fortune, the bullet impacted on the mail vest covering his shoulder. Wilhemina suffered far worse luck. The blood welled out of her throat more slowly than it did from Hans, but still too quickly to be a good omen. She rasped and coughed, her normally piercing eyes wide with panic. Annot grabbed a towel from the counter and squeezed it to Wilhemina's throat. From the door, the wolves[‘] growls almost sounded like laughter.
Some great world-building and a sympathetic protagonist. Great action scene, but it takes too long to get there. Too much exposition at once, and some violations of the "show don't tell " rule. Maybe you should try writing it without explaining anything, and just add back in the bare minimum to keep the reader from getting too confused? The dinner scene demonstrates everyone's character and abilities; maybe you should start there? If this is the first chapter, it needs to grab the reader right away.
Yeah. I think your idea of starting from the dinner party is a solid one. I think the russia-finland exposition can be shrunk. Simon's youth can be loaded into another place in the book. I do want to keep the Hans exposition because it explains why Simon is competent with a blade (and Hans goes pretty quickly so I need to give him a little weight before he dies).
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