Фил Фоглио - Agatha H. and the Siege of Mechanicsburg

“I didn’t.”

“Lucrezia might have,” Agatha said slowly. “She really didn’t want to come here.”

“Interesting,” Tarvek mused. “Dispersal is looking more prudent than ever.”

“Dispersal?”

“The wasp eaters are too important to keep all in one place, no matter how safe it seems.”

Ruxala nodded. “If Prince Sturmvarous hadn’t warned us, the Vespiary Squad would have been wiped out already, along with all of our weasels. And so, on his advice, some of our people have already left Mechanicsburg, disguised and hidden amongst the other Wulfenbach forces in the retreat. They’ll make their way out of the empire and set up research labs in Paris, Istanbul, and maybe even England.”

Tarvek rubbed his hands. “And they’ll all be reporting to me.”

Violetta snorted. “I wonder whose idea that was.”

“Oh, he didn’t want us to,” Ruxala assured her. “We insisted.” Krosp bit his own tail out of sheer envy.

As Ruxala gave a fascinated Agatha a brief explanation of enhanced mustelid physiognomy, Violetta and Tarvek rested against a parapet. “So,” Violetta asked, “what do you think is going to hit us next?”

Tarvek shrugged and began polishing his spectacles. “Really, cousin? You have to ask? The empire is in chaos. Mechanicsburg is still putting itself back together. Agatha may be supported by the town, but she is still nothing but an unsubstantiated rumor to the outside world, and thus not yet completely secure. Who do you think will step up to cause her problems?”

A voice roared up from the courtyard below. “Lady Heterodyne! There you are!” Everyone peered down to see Martellus von Blitzengaard, who looked like he had seen a fair amount of fighting if his once-pristine attire was to be believed, sitting tall upon the warhorse he had acquired. He was surrounded by the diminished, but still daunting, ranks of the Bloodstone Paladins.

Violetta nodded in understanding. “Ah. Our family, of course.”

Tarvek handed her a chocolate-covered mimmoth. “Right in one.”

A small crowd began to gather and stared up at the mounted man in awe. Martellus sat a bit straighter and spoke a bit louder. “Come! We are victorious! Your subjects await you!” He paused and looked around expectantly, and a ragged cheer arose from the spectators. He turned back and swept a hand towards the saddle before him. “Allow me the honor of escorting you to the cathedral square! Come and take my hand!”

Agatha strode down the stairs. “No, that won’t be necessary.”

Martellus looked surprised. “What? But I have a horse.” The horse nodded in agreement.

“Thank you for the thought,” Agatha said as she breezed past. “But no.”

They turned onto the main boulevard heading towards the cathedral in the distance. Martellus wheeled his horse about, and with a synchronized stamp and crash of arms, the Paladin clanks swung into formation behind them. As they passed, people could be seen emerging from buildings, manholes, and, in one surprising instance, the crown of a tree.

Van looked about and leaned in towards Agatha. He surreptitiously jerked his head back towards Martellus, who was determined to catch up without looking like he had been deliberately left behind in the first place, and murmured, “He does look impressive, my Lady. Perhaps for your initial impression—”

“Sitting next to him?” Agatha hissed. “Have you talked to him?” Van had the sense to keep quiet. “Besides, if I feel the need to look impressive . . . ” Agatha snapped her fingers, and Franz reared his head above the roofline of a butcher’s shop that had taken severe damage, a half-eaten cow carcass in one hand. He saw the group looking at him and unsuccessfully tried to hide the carcass by stuffing it into his mouth. “Meff, Mifftreff?”

She glanced back at Van. “Well, you get the idea.”

Van nodded. “He is correct about one thing, Mistress, we should proceed to the Red Cathedral. There are important things the new Heterodyne needs to do there.”

Agatha glanced about and had to concede that at the moment, she really didn’t know what she should do. “What kind of things?”

The seneschal looked pensive. “Well, mostly ceremonial, I’ll admit.”

Agatha stared at him. “Ceremonial? Are you serious? We just fought a huge battle! Everything is in chaos! People are hurt! I . . . I should be cleaning this place up! And getting something to eat! And maybe even sleeping!”

Tarvek stepped in and cleared his throat. “There will be time

for that, but you must understand that while Mechanicsburg and the Heterodynes may flout most of Europa’s traditions, they take their own very seriously.”

Van nodded. “It’s not all ceremonial, my Lady,” he said in a low voice. “Your ancestors knew better than to put all of their power under the control of the Castle. Once the Doom Bell has rung, there are additional city systems that need to be ‘told’ there is an actual Heterodyne present, and they have to be trained to recognize you. Only then will they respond to you. It’s a bit of a bother, and one of the reasons they didn’t ring the bell much. But once you’ve done them, it’ll allow the rest of us to get things back to normal a lot easier.”

There it was in a nutshell. She was no longer simply “Agatha Clay” or even just (just!) “Agatha Heterodyne.” She was the Heterodyne of Mechanicsburg. A major power in Europa, and one that would be tested from numerous directions in the coming days.

But she was no longer alone. She had a town; a marvelous, unique town that desperately wanted her to succeed, filled with deviously talented people who needed her like a plant needed the sun. She had monsters, and clanks, and a dragon, and the most awful Castle in existence, who would obey her every command. It was a beginning.

“Ah! There you are!” Agatha’s musings were short-circuited as a fresh crowd emerged from a side street, Othar Tryggvassen at its head. He strode up and bowed towards Agatha. “Congratulations! Anyone who can foil the Wulfenbachs deserves the approbation of the continent!” He swung about and regarded the surrounding crowd. “Am I right?”

And then the cheering started. Full throated and joyful this time, it spread outwards, and soon echoes of it could be heard throughout the town. Othar smiled genially and leaned in. Scant centimeters from Agatha’s face, he lowered his visor and she saw that his eyes were as cold as ice. When he spoke, his voice reached her alone. “I have heard many things about you regarding the Other. Disturbing things. My apprentice—” he jerked his head towards Tarvek— “has explained things in a way that show you in the best light, but I will want to hear the particulars from you. If you are truly a victim, know that Othar Tryggvassen—Gentleman Adventurer—will do all he can to help. But if you are a willing party to this monstrous evil, know that all of this—” the subtle motion of his hand somehow managed to encompass everything within the Valley of the Heterodynes “—will not save you.” Looking into his eyes, Agatha believed him.

He then reared back and clapped her shoulder. “But today you should relish your victory!” With another small bow, he stepped back into the crowd. Agatha bit her lip.

“Yeah, he’s going to be a pain in the neck.” She blinked and saw Moloch now walked by her side.

She smiled in delight. “You’re alive! You made it out!” She spoke to the open air, “Thank you, Castle.”

A nearby gargoyle harrumphed. “He earned it.”

Moloch was pleasantly surprised at this, but had his piece and was determined to say it. “So we’re square? The Castle is fixed and you’re queen. Good luck with that.”

Agatha nodded.