Panenske Brezany/The Wewelsburg
March SY153
"Afternoon, Mein Bruder," came Rupert's voice as I opened the Trump call. It was four o'clock on March 1st. Time for tea.
"Afternoon, Herr Reichsführer," I answered, taking his hand and stepping through. It was an odd numbered month, so tea was at Panenske Brezany. I arrived in his office, and noticed that the armour and battle axe he had acquired in the Amazon were now on a stand in one corner of the room. Other than that, it was much as it had been last time I had visited, in November.
My brother indicated the chairs by the fireplace – I'm not sure if I find it amusing or disturbing that both of us manage to have room in our offices or studies for chairs beside the fireplace – and then rang for the servant to bring tea.
"Your agents have been busy this month," he commented as we sat.
"Indeed they have," I answered, no tone of apology in my voice, "you were the one who decided to deploy rockets. We were honour bound to stop them, and so we did."
"A lot of people died at Nordstrand," he answered, his expression darkening, "and the bang was big enough that I wondered if Andrew was involved. He's the one who seems to enjoy the wholesale slaughter of SS personnel."
"A lot of people died when the Nordstrand rockets hit Kaliel and Herrault, too," I answered, matching his gaze unflinching, "but no, Andrew was not involved...this time. I'm sure he would have liked to have been."
"And Sturmbannführer Darré?"
"Will not be helping you any more," I replied.
The rockets had been magically powered, and had been impossible to stop by magical means, as their method of entry was ballistic, rather than still magically powered. However Darré, the Sable-born traitor who had designed the propulsion systems for Rupert, had been apprehended by Sable agents, and while we didn't know for sure if he'd shared his knowledge with anyone else under Rupert's command, we hoped the rocket programme had suffered a major setback. The fact that our agents had managed to locate the base where they were being made and blow the entire stockpile of missiles – taking the top five feet off the cliff they were being stored in in the process – had, indeed, resulted in a very big bang."
"I presume no apology will be forthcoming," he commented.
"None whatsoever," I answered, unrepentant, and he shrugged.
"Well, you can't fault me for asking, Robert."
Before I could retort, there was a knock at the door and a servant brought in a tray holding tea, sandwiches and cakes. He placed it down on the table, nodded at Rupert – being too well behaved to be surprised at my presence there – and then departed as silently as he had come. Rupert poured, and we settled into a rather more uncomfortable silence than sometimes as we turned our attention to tea. I wondered, not for the first time, if he'd actually imported a cook from Sable for the sole purpose of catering our bi-monthly get together at his house, because as always the food was excellent.
"Are the family well?" I asked, finally.
"Very. Stefan is hoping to go to Berlin Mage College next academic year, while Berthold is planning on State Service once he leaves school. Of course, Stefan seems to have more innate Talent than his brother. Which reminds me..."
He stood, crossed to his desk, and picked up a stiff white envelope which he then handed to me on his return. I noticed that it was addressed to me as Duke of Worcester, rather than King of Sable. Curious, I turned it over, opened the envelope, and slipped out the contents. An invitation, hand calligraphed in black gothic script, and a one-shot Trump of a very familiar looking triangular courtyard. I dropped the Trump into my pocket and read the card.
"To His Grace Robrecht, Herzog von Worcester. Greetings. You are cordially invited to the marriage of Rupert, Herzog von Bremen, Reichsführer-SS to Her Majesty Annifrid, Queen of Leipzig, at the Wewelsburg, on March 21st, Reich Year 153 at eight PM. RSVP. Dress formal."
My jaw dropped.
"Are you serious?"
"About what?" he asked, "marrying Frida or inviting you to the wedding?"
"You actually want me to come to your wedding? At the Wewelsburg? Which you pretty much declared off limits to me the first time we met."
"I've let you take students there occasionally, without interfering with your lessons."
"But that's about it."
"Perhaps. But where else would I marry? It's not as if St Rafael's cathedral is suitable."
"And you haven't answered the question. Why, Rupert?"
"Because you're my brother, Robert, and that's what brothers do," he answered, slightly testily.
"Not normally in our situation," I answered.
"Mein Bruder, define normal for our situation," he answered, managing a chuckle, "it's an invitation, it's not a summons. Come...or not...as you will."
I looked at him and managed a smile.
"I presume the Reichsführer-SS has approved the match, and that you both exhibit racial purity unto the nth generation?"
He looked at me for a moment, then burst into quite genuine laughter. It was an odd sound coming from him: so often his laughter was tinged with cynicism.
"You see, that's why we get on so well, Robert...at least most of the time."
I looked at him, a little puzzled. I'd certainly never have described us as getting on well.
"At times we can manage not to take ourselves too seriously," he continued.
I would probably have argued that point with him, but if he was in a good mood, it didn't seem the appropriate time.
"Dress formal? I can't believe you want me turning up in a Sable uniform? In fact, do you even want me turning up with my own face."
"That's up to you. Just leave the King of Sable behind when you come," he answered, "oh, and you had better know in advance that this isn't exactly going to be a 1662 service. So don't expect one."
"What should I expect?" I asked, and he smiled again.
"I am the Reichsführer-SS, Mein Bruder. It will be an SS service."
"Outstanding," I muttered under my breath, and he gave a wry smile at my discomfort. "Who on earth are you going to get to preside? It's not like you have a military commander – unless you include the Kaiser."
"Oh, I'll find someone," he answered, "relax, Robert. It'll be a new experience for you. And at our age, it's always worth having the odd new experience."
"Oh, this will be a very odd new experience," I retorted.
"As will marrying, at my age," he replied, "but that won't stop me trying it."
We chatted over inanities for a few minutes longer, and then I stood. It was time to go home. We shook hands, and then I brought the image of Sable Palace to mind and Trumped myself home. The last thing I heard as he departed was "See you on the 21st". And then I was back in the Palace courtyard. As usual, Gray was sitting on the edge of the fountain waiting for me, making sure I arrived in one piece, although in fairness, neither Rupert nor myself had even left one of our tea parties dripping blood, albeit that we had on various of our other encounters.
"Robert, what's wrong?" he said, obviously reading my still rather startled expression.
"Gray, you are going to love this one," I answered, and handed him the envelope. As puzzled as I had been he opened the envelope and read the contents.
"Holy shit, Robert," he said, his expression stunned, "are you serious?"
"Exactly what I said, but apparently he is."
"But you're no going, are you?"
"I haven't decided yet."
"Well, at least I've got three weeks to talk you out of it," he answered, falling into step as we headed inside.
* * * * *
He tried his damndest. And I have to admit it nearly worked. I was very much in two minds about whether or not to accept my brother's invitation, especially given that I took his insistence that I leave the King of Sable behind to also mean that I was to come alone. Claire would not have wanted to go anyway, and I doubted that I would be particularly welcome if I turned up at Wewelsburg with any of the Knights of the Sword. On the other hand, I was curious. And given that one of my alternate forms is feline, I was well aware of the irony of a certain well-known proverb. I was pretty sure, though, that killing me actually wasn't on his agenda for the spring equinox. The SS officers likely to be at the ceremony, though, I really couldn't speak for. But let's be honest, there was a certain inevitability to the fact that I ended up getting my tux out of the wardrobe at around seven on the night in question.
"Are you going somewhere, Robert?" Claire asked, coming in a few minutes later as I was applying the finishing touches to my outfit in front of the mirror.
"I've been invited to a function this evening," I answered. Which was, after all true. Of course my wife knows me rather better than many, and could probably guess that that wasn't the whole truth.
"I don't remember seeing anything in the diary."
"It's a private thing. Not a state one," I answered, "and I doubt you'd enjoy it anyway. But don't worry, I should be back by midnight."
"Inside, or Outside?" she asked, then added, suspiciously, "is this another inevitable and interminable family party? Has Kelric decided to show off the Red Wolf Hall again, or something?"
"Something like that," I replied, and crossed to her, taking her shoulders and kissing her gently on the forehead.
"Robert, you're tense. What's wrong?"
"Oh you know me. Family parties always make me tense. Never quite know what's going to happen, or who's going to try to murder whom."
"As long as you're neither murderer or murderee, love," she commented.
"That isn't my intention," I replied, kissing her properly this time, "I'll see you later."
"And you," she answered, and apparently satisfied, she shrugged, and turned to leave. However, as she opened the door I heard Gray's voice.
"Claire, is your damned fool of a husband in there?"
"Yes, he..."
I Trumped out before she finished the sentence.
I decided to make a halfway stop, so I could see to my appearance, and transported myself briefly to my quarters in Murray. At least neither of them could Trump me while I was Outside. I stood in front of the mirror, shortened my hair and slightly changed the shape of my cheekbones, as well as adding a little blue to my eyes. Anyone who knew me still would, but hopefully the other wedding guests would just consider me to be another Party higher-up. Once I was satisfied, I took myself back Inside, and then used the Trump which had come with the invitation and transferred into the lion's den.
I arrived in the south-east corner of the courtyard, where an area had been set up specifically for the reception of guests arriving by Trump. I showed my invitation, which was accepted without batting an eyelid by the SS Scharführer manning the post, and was then ushered out of area to join the other guests milling around, champagne being handed out by SS orderlies. I took a glass, and stood for a moment, taking in my surroundings. The courtyard and walls were set with flaming torches, which both lit and warmed it, and there was a smell of yew and fir in the air. For a moment it reminded me of Christmas at Millbank, when I was a child: father had always decorated the Old Hall with evergreens. I could also see banners embroidered with silver life runes hanging from the higher windowsills. Off to one side there was a raised platform, with about forty seats on it, and in front of the North Tower, I could see an altar set up, and while I wasn't getting a feeling of evil from it, it was definitely pagan, rather than Christian.
As I glanced around, I felt someone trying to Trump me, but given that I could guess to within three people who that was likely to be, I paused for a short while, blocking the contact, and eventually it faded. Once I could concentrate on my surroundings again, I noticed that the vast majority of the guests were in SS dress uniform, although there was the occasional Wehrmacht officer, and thankfully I wasn't quite the only person in a tux. The sheer weight of silver and black did bring it home to me that this was probably one of the stupidest things I had ever done in my life, and I realised that blocking the Trump call had also been far from smart. I was about to admit defeat to myself and go home to face the consequences from Claire and Gray, when I heard a familiar voice to my right.
"Mein Gott, you actually came," my son Wilhelm said as I turned towards him, "he said that he'd invited you, but I didn't expect you to accept. In truth, I expected General Graham to tie you up and throw you in the basement before letting you attend."
I noted that he was dressed in the uniform of a Field Marshall in the Heimat-Heer – the homeland army – a similar uniform to the one he had been wearing the first day I saw him in the Reich, when he was being proclaimed Kaiser. Flanking him were two of the Imperial Knights, his personal bodyguards. Obviously, unlike me, he hadn't been asked to check his protection detail at the door.
"I wasn't sure, either," I answered, "but here I am, although I suspect the basement might be in my immediate future when I get home. You're looking well, Wilhelm. Is Elsa with you?"
"She's speaking with Conrad at the moment," he replied, "she was never going to miss our beloved Reichsführer marrying himself off."
"Oh what a happy family reunion this is going to be," I commented, and he chuckled.
"This way, father."
Without giving me time to argue, he steered me over to where his wife was in deep conversation with a dark, good looking young man I knew as the NSRAP Chairman. That area of the courtyard seemed to be where the non-SS guests seemed to be gravitating to, so I was happy to be steered. Glancing around I recognised one or two of the other dignitaries, including George Emmerich, the Reichskanzler; and the Imperial Chief Justice, Frederic Kramer. I really hoped they didn't recognise me.
"My, my, Robert of Sable," Elsa said lightly, giving me her best public smile, although her eyes regarded me with their usual coldness. My daughter in law and I had always had an uneasy relationship, not helped by the fact that Gray was pretty certain that before she'd married Wilhelm, Elsa had been one of Rupert's many lovers.
"Tonight, at our groom's request, I'm just the Duke of Worcester," I answered, and she chuckled, thawing slightly.
"Of course. I quite understand. You know Conrad, my husband's brother, don' t you?"
"We've met in the past, most recently at Johan's wedding," I answered, and to my surprise he offered me his hand, which I took instinctively. On the lapel of his exceedingly well-tailored tuxedo I noticed a silver pin in the stylised form of the rank insignia for an SS Gruppenführer, above the one indicating his Party affiliation, which surprised me. His file stated that he had done his military service in the Wehrmacht, not the SS. Perhaps an honorary rank?
"Your Grace, a pleasure to see you again," he said smoothly, and I could see a hint of mischief behind his eyes. It was almost as if he meant it, but then Conrad Berthelmes – soldier, lawyer, NSRAP politico and father of Joss Kennard – had always had more than his fair share of both intelligence and charm. Under different circumstances, had I known him as a child, I would probably have liked him, but the fact that he was head of the Nazi Party, and had learned his trade from my father, made it harder for me to feel paternal towards him.
"You'll sit with us?" Wilhelm offered.
"I'm not sure where I've been assigned to sit," I answered.
"Trust me, father," he said, quietly, "you should accept my offer."
In response I nodded, but before I could say any more the orderlies started herding us towards the seating, although I had to pause to block another Trump call as I moved. As we took our places, Wilhelm indicated for me to sit the other side of him from Elsa, with Conrad taking my right, and his wife the other side of him. Wilhelm's younger son, Theodor, sat the other side of his mother in the uniform of an SS Brigadeführer, although of Johan and Juliana there was no sign. And I felt as much as saw one of the Imperial Knights take position behind me, where I would usually expect one of Auguste de Lyon's men to have been had this event happened in Sable. My son was extending his protection to me, and I didn't know why which made me even more nervous than I had been before. Had something changed in the dynamic between him and Rupert?
I looked around the platform, and noticed a larger number of higher-up SS officers than I had ever seen in one place before, including one who made my blood run cold. Andreas Delatz – Andrew's counterpart. It was the first time I'd seen him in the flesh since the incident at Andrew's wedding, when Andreas had ended up as a pile of sparking metal on the floor of a laboratory on Nexus Prime. Obviously his regeneration had been completed, although it didn't appear to have improved his disposition, but whether or not he was human was impossible to tell.
With the exception of the small group of us in the centre, around the Kaiser, and the one or two Wehrmacht officers present, pretty much no-one there held a rank of less than Brigadeführer, and I could see insignia identifying nine out of twelve of the Knights of the SS, including Tristan Heydrich, sometime acting head of the SD; and Jürgen Kessler, who had the reputation of being Rupert's Chief Enforcer. I'd never seen Heydrich in the flesh before, but the resemblance to his father was startling. As if he felt my regard on him he turned, obviously recognising me, and I saw a slight look of surprise cross his face. Then there was a fanfare of trumpets, and he returned his attention to the courtyard.
While we had been getting seated, the courtyard had filled up with rank upon rank of SS personnel, with a pathway through the middle about eight feet wide, and as the trumpets sounded, those on either side of the pathway towards the altar raised their swords. The party on the raised seating stood, and pretty much everyone else raised their arms in the Nazi salute. I glanced at Wilhelm, who with Elsa – and I would say myself - was the only person present who was not obliged to salute the Reichsführer SS.
"We should be polite, Robert," he said, quietly, "do as I do."
And he offered the half-salute of a superior to an inferior. Thinking that if Rupert actually noticed, he would not be pleased, I did the same, albeit with some degree of trepidation.
To the cheering and adulation of those assembled, the happy couple strode up the pathway, arm in arm, under the raised blades. Rupert was in dress uniform, with full insignia, while Annifrid had opted for a stunning dress in red, and around her left wrist was a corsage of red ribbons. The fact that white would have been inappropriate was highlighted by the fact that behind them walked their sons, in Reichsjugend uniform. Flanking the bridal party were four members of Rupert's Honour Guard, including its commander, Rikart Schultz. SS Knight number ten.
Rupert and Frida walked towards the north tower, and eventually stopped before the altar. Behind it I could see Justice Kramer, and a woman wearing the uniform of an SS Gruppenführer, the unit insignia of the SS Ahnenerbe, and again the insignia and ribbon of the KSS. Eleven. If I remembered my briefings correctly, that made her Silke von Halle, and as I looked at her, she seemed familiar. The lighting made it difficult to be certain why without sharpening my eyes using shapeshift, but let's be honest, that would have been an even stupider thing to do within ten feet of the head of the Forstapo – the shapeshifter hunters - than coming to the wedding in the first place.
Von Halle took one of the torches nearby, and lit something in an urn before her on the altar, speaking of kindling the eternal flame of love between the happy couple, and the marriage service began. Kramer appeared to be responsible for those parts of the ceremony which were a legal requirement given Rupert's position as a member of the Reich High Nobility, including the reading of the declaration of the racial purity of the bride and groom, while von Halle presided over the more SS-specific elements of the service. Oaths of love and loyalty to each other and the State were sworn – I was amused that Rupert chose the words 'first over others', rather than forsaking all others, as far as fidelity to his new wife unto death was concerned, but perhaps it fitted with the whole SS view of being the best qualified to breed the Master Race, whether in or out of wedlock; rings were exchanged; and the couple were gifted with symbols of the earth's fruitfulness and purity, in the form of bread and salt. The eternal flame would burn throughout the ceremony and the reception afterwards.
Rupert had been right. I'd never actually witnessed an SS marriage before, and the pagan symbolism and total lack of what I would consider to be religious rubric was somewhat disturbing, although between the Trump calls I kept fending off, it was fascinating to watch. Still, the crowd seemed enthusiastic, and as they were declared man and wife, a deafening burst of cheering broke out throughout the courtyard, magnified by the enclosed space. The newlyweds passed back through the arch of swords towards the south of the courtyard, where orderlies were once more waiting with glasses of champagne and plates of finger food, and then the party began. Still at least they'd stopped trying to Trump me home
I was all for slipping away quietly at that point, before someone there decided to kill me, when Wilhelm rested a hand on my shoulder.
"There will be toasts and gifts. They are all part of the ceremony. You've been seen now, even if you look sufficiently different from normal that far from all of them will realise who you are, and if you disappear those who have identified your presence here will notice."
"I'm not sure that would matter."
"My uncle would find out, and would likely be offended, and I would rather not do that." Concern? Fear?
"I came at all. Surely that's got to count for something. And to be honest, I rather suspect that I now know how the fox feels when surrounded by the hounds."
"They won't harm you. Hauptmann Friedman will stay with you, and they will know that you are under my protection."
"Wilhelm, you've always given me the impression that the SS were a law unto themselves."
"But I am still Kaiser, father, and they pay my position lip service – even in their marriage ceremonies, as you have just heard. You will be safe. You might want to think of your cover story for when you get enmeshed in small talk, though."
And so I spent a surreal hour eating from the rather fine buffet and mixing with the brightest and best of the Reich military and government, with the Kaiser's bodyguard watching my back at every turn. Gray's briefings had been thorough, so at least I knew who most of the senior players were. Some of them had been at my grandson's wedding the previous September, including the majority of of the non-SS here. Others I had only ever seen in pictures and heard of in reports, including pretty much every SS Section Head: Knights of the SS almost to a man, or in von Halle's case, woman. And as I spoke with them, I realised that every single Knight was wearing an SS Honour Dagger which had been used in rituals of a decidedly darker hue. One of Gray's hardest tasks was to identify the members of the Black Lodge – having previously only found the occasional one and dealt with him accordingly. But here they were, completely out in the open, eleven out of the suspected twelve of them plus Rupert, and I finally knew the significance of the highest order of chivalry in the SS. Maybe sharing that with Gray would mitigate the bollocking I was going to get when I returned to Sable.
I was still digesting this information, when my path finally crossed that of my newlywed brother.
"You came," he said, appearing genuinely pleased to see me – a whole new experience for me - although I noticed him remarking Friedman's presence with something bordering on incredulity, "I'm honoured. Although from your body language I'd guess that that isn't exactly how you feel."
"Something like that," I admitted, with a wry smile, "Congratulations, Rupert. It was an...interesting ceremony."
He chuckled. "As I said the other week, we need some new experiences in our lives. I hope you'll stay for the gift giving."
"I thought it was normally up to the guests to give gifts to the happy couple."
"We do it somewhat differently in the SS," he replied, "the Kameraden give gifts to the bridal couple, but if the couple are in a position to return favours to their guests, it is customary to do so."
"And you are the Reichsführer-SS, giving you rather more leeway to reward those who you feel deserve it."
"Exactly."
"So what on earth would you have that you could give me?"
In return, he smiled. "You will find out, soon enough."
Then he glanced over towards a table which had been brought to stand beside the seating tiers, on which I could see many, many packages of varying sizes.
"Ah, it's time," he finished. He paused to put his arm through his new wife's as she joined us, favouring me with a slight nod of the head, but nothing approaching any sign of warmth - not unexpectedly, given our chequered history - and then the happy couple crossed to the pile of presents.
"Welcome to you all. Frida and I would like to offer our thanks to you for joining us on this special day. And as is traditional, we have a few gifts to distribute. So we hope you will gather round, and should your name be called, come forward to receive what we wish to give you."
There was a buzz of excitement, and the happy couple began to distribute the booty. As each package was picked up from the table, Frida unwrapped a ribbon from the corsage around her wrist, tying it around the gift before handing it to the recipient. Among others, I saw Andreas approach Rupert, and noticed them exchange a few words, with Rupert resting his hand on Andreas's left forearm, before the former stepped back. It was almost impossible to read any emotion from him – even though most of the others receiving gifts seemed pleased or honoured – but I had the decided feeling that Andreas was not happy. Then I saw him cross to a man I'd identified as Matthias Kapler, Head of the Waffen-SS, and engage him in heated conversation, and I realised that there was no longer an SD unit patch on Andreas's uniform sleeve. Moments later, Kapler didn't look happy either.
Next, I saw Tristan Heydrich approach the table, and Rupert handed him a small box which I'd come to associate with gifts of SS rank insignia – promotions, presumably – or medals. Heydrich untied the ribbon, flipped open the lid and was obviously surprised at what he saw, and then Rupert pinned the insignia of an Oberstgruppenführer to his dress uniform collar. Beside me, I heard Wilhelm make a sharp intake of breath.
"Did what I think just happened, happen?" I asked.
"If you think that the head of the Sicherheitsdienst was just replaced, then yes," Wilhelm answered.
"Oh boy. No wonder Andreas looked pissed. And Kapler didn't look much better after they'd spoken."
The gift giving continued, and among others I saw my grandson, Theodor, approach and receive a promotion to the rank of Gruppenführer, much to the proud applause of Wilhelm, Elsa and others. It seemed a popular choice. I also noticed Kapler called to the table, and as Rupert pinned what looked like the insignia of a Knight of the Iron Cross to his uniform - there only being one rank above Oberstgruppenführer, and its owner wasn't about to relinquish it - they exchanged a few words. As he stepped away, he looked rather less upset than he had been when he had spoken with Andreas about twenty minutes before.
And then, when there was just one small box left on the table, I heard my brother call for "Robrecht, Herzog von Worcester".
There was a sudden crescendo of muttering, and I noticed both Heydrich and Kessler stare firmly in my direction. Wilhelm indicated for me to step forward and, Friedman shadowing me as always, I approached the table with all the enthusiasm of a man walking out before a firing squad. And believe me, having been in close proximity to SS firing squads on more than one occasion, I'm not exaggerating. Silence fell as I reached the table and stood beside it, noting that pretty much all of those I'd identified as Knights were now in the front of the circle surrounding the table, Rupert and myself, watching. Then I saw Annifrid take the last ribbon from her wrist and place it around the small, flat box. She looked at me with an expression of almost genuine innocence, and handed the package to me.
"Well, open it Mein Bruder," Rupert said, quietly, and I knew I wasn't going to like the contents. Pity, as up until then it had been an almost civilised evening.
Very slowly, I unwrapped the ribbon and flipped open the lid, and blinked as I saw the stylised insignia of an SS-Oberstgruppenführer, cast in some kind of white metal.
"Oh, you've got to be kidding," I said, meeting his gaze, and seeing amusement in his eyes.
"It is within my purview to grant honorary commissions in the Schutzstaffel to whomever I please," he said as he lifted the insignia from the bed of black silk on which it was sitting, and adeptly pinned it to the lapel of my tux, "and you most definitely meet the racial criteria for such membership."
"Rupert, if this is a joke, it's in poor taste."
"No, Mein Bruder. It isn't a joke."
And then he stepped back and gave the half-armed salute of a superior to an inferior officer.
"Touché, brother," I replied, knowing – as he did – that I had no choice but to respond with the Nazi salute. Beside him, I saw Frida trying remarkably hard to suppress a smirk, and barely succeeding.
"Better," he chuckled, "I suggest you walk beside me as we return to the bar, and look as if you're delighted. There are quite a few people here tonight who would kill for me to have given this to them. It is the first and only time I have awarded that rank on an honorary basis."
"Was this the whole purpose of asking me here? To embarrass me?" I answered, falling into step on his right while he offered Frida his left arm.
"Oh, get the bug out of your backside, Robert," he said, quietly enough that his wife probably wouldn't hear it in the noise of the crowed, "while Frida is firmly of the opinion that this was to mock you, from my point of view, the gift was meant out of respect, not as a joke. If I'd wanted to embarrass you, it sure as Hell wouldn't have been like this, because by giving it to you, I have entitled you to certain privileges. By the time we meet in Sable next month, I imagine you'll realise exactly what I have granted, and General Graham will have briefed you on the implications."
"Why?"
"Because I can. Because it behoved me to. We worked together recently, Mein Bruder, and probably saved each other's lives. It's my way of thanking you for that, and for allowing me to exist in the first place."
Unsure what to make of his comments, I lapsed into silence, and as we walked I saw the assembled company watching us. Many were obviously trying to figure out whether they should know who I was, and those who did recognise me were obviously trying decide exactly what had just happened.
We reached the bar and drinks were handed out, and then the toast was drunk to the happy couple.
"If you want to make your excuses, Robert, after this drink is probably the appropriate moment," my brother said as he chinked his glass to mine, "SS parties have a habit of getting a little wild later."
"Before I do, I have one question."
"Just the one?"
"Yes, just the one. What was the business with Andreas and Heydrich?"
"Ah. That. In Andreas's enforced absence, Tristan has been doing a stellar job as General Commanding the Sicherheitsdienst. And since Andreas's return, there has been a great deal of friction between them. The trouble is, Andreas just isn't that good at being a policeman. He's too consumed with hatred for Andrew, and more so since his return - understandably, given the whole sorry beheading incident. So I've transferred him sideways, and given the SD to the better man."
"Transferred him sideways?"
"As of this evening, he is General Commanding the Waffen-SS. A position for which I think he is far better suited. Especially given Andrew's equivalent position in Sable's forces."
"That is not going to end well."
"Mein Bruder, we're at war. It was never going to end well," he answered with a smile, once more clinking his glass to mine, and we downed their respective contents.
"What about Kapler?" I asked, recalling his expression when they were talking earlier, but Rupert just smiled in the annoying way he does when he knows something that I don't.
"I have something else in mind for him, but Sable need not worry about it as it will not be in your sphere of influence...anyway, enough of business. I should circulate. Until April 1st."
"So it would seem. Congratulations again, Rupert. Odd as it may sound, I actually hope you'll both be happy."
"Thank you, Mein Bruder," he said, this time with a more genuine smile, and with that he clicked his heels and made a slight bow of his head, before returning to his new wife and his crowd of admirers. I turned to seek Wilhelm in the crowd, and moments later our eyes met. He nodded and we crossed to meet in the middle.
"Did you know he was going to do that?" I asked my son.
"He'd mentioned that he planned to give you a gift, but not what it was," came the answer, "I'm sorry. Perhaps I shouldn't have encouraged you to stay."
"What is done is done, and you're right – this would have been a bad day to offend him."
"Are you heading home?"
"I am. But I'm sure you and I will be in contact sooner rather than later."
He nodded and offered me his hand, which I took. "Until the next time, Robert of Sable."
"Indeed, Kaiser Wilhelm, and thank you for the loan of Hauptmann Friedman."
"I'm sure you would do the same for me were our situations reversed. Good night, father."
"Good night," I answered, and brought an image of Sable Palace to mind. Before I opened the link, though, I unpinned my new lapel decoration, put it back in the box, and slipped it into my pocket. Then I concentrated, and stepped through the link.
Into a left hook which felled me like a pile driver. As much out of surprise as pain I found myself sitting in an unceremonious heap on my backside in the middle of the Sable Palace cloister.
"What the fuck did you think you were doing?" said Andrew, standing over me with a look of fury on his face.
"Now, just a bloody minute," I answered, a sudden burst of murderous anger spurring me back to my feet almost instantly, and it was all I could do to stop myself wrapping my hand around his throat.
"No, not just a bloody minute," he replied, and followed up with a right hook which rocked me, although at least I didn't fall this time. Instead, I took a step backwards, moving to defend myself if he tried it again. "You ignored Gray, you've lied to Claire, and you pissed off into the heart of enemy territory without even letting anyone know where you were going."
"It would seem that you know exactly where I've been," I answered, trying to control my temper and rubbing my jaw, "and that Gray knew even before I went."
"Since when you've been blocking all attempts to Trump you."
"And I didn't lie to Claire," I added, possibly a tad petulantly.
"You certainly didn't tell her the whole truth, Your Majesty," came Gray's voice as he approached me from behind Andrew. He only ever called me Your Majesty when he was really, really pissed at me, which had happened about twice in the whole time he'd been working for me, and his tone was cold and decidedly unfriendly, "do you have anything to say for yourself."
"What, apart from the fact that I'm the bloody King of Sable, I can do what I damn well like, and neither of you have the right to speak to me like this?" I answered, icily.
"Then act like the bloody King, Robert," Andrew retorted, "or do you want Dominic to succeed you?"
"I don't have to explain myself to you, Andrew. To either of you."
Off to the side, Gray took a deep breath, then gave an almost subservient bow.
"No, Your Majesty, you do not," he said, quietly, "but as you usually do, one questions why on this occasion you will not."
Then, quite unexpectedly, Andrew laughed.
"You know what it is, Gray," he said, his tone breaking the tension between us, "he knows we're right. He knows he's been a complete jerk, and he doesn't want to admit it. Tell me, father, just how soon after you got to the Wewelsburg did you realise you'd screwed up?"
I looked at him, still rubbing my jaw. "Almost as soon as I finished blocking your first Trump call."
"So what...two minutes? I'm surprised it was that long."
"I always was a slow learner," I answered, "shit, Andrew. Where did you learn to punch like that?"
"Oh, here and there."
Off to one side, I noticed that Gray was still standing awkwardly rigid. He didn't see the funny side of it at all. Then he reached into his pocket and drew out an envelope, which he handed to me.
"It is obvious that my advice is no longer of worth to you, Your Majesty. I therefore find myself in a position where I have no choice but to tender my resignation."
Suddenly the nascent bonhomie I was beginning to feel towards Andrew turned cold. Gray's statement had shaken me rigid, and I stared at him, disbelieving, as I took the envelope, opened it and read the contents, then shook my head.
"Oh no, Gray. You don't get away with it that easily. However foolish and frivolous you think I am, I've just had the intelligence gathering mission to end all intelligence gathering missions."
This time is was his turn to look at me in surprise.
"You are kidding?"
"I'm really not. Let's head inside."
And ripping the letter in two and handing him the pieces, I strode towards the French doors into the library. Almost too surprised to do anything else, Andrew and Gray fell in behind me, and once inside I poured a Scotch and two brandies, distributed them, and indicated for them to sit.
"Your Majesty, in the past you've proven yourself to be an unreliable intelligence officer, at best," Gray said, finally, "what makes you think that you can talk yourself out of the bollocking you...if you'll pardon me saying...Royally deserve by claiming you've been, in your ever so humble words, on 'the intelligence gathering mission to end all intelligence gathering missions'?"
"One. I know the current line-up of the Black Lodge."
"All of them?"
"Twelve out of thirteen of them."
"Bloody Hell," he answered, almost impressed, and I saw Andrew lean forward, suddenly very interested.
"How many Knights of the SS are there?" I asked.
"Twelve full. Thirty-nine companions. Over a hundred members," Andrew supplied.
"Twelve full plus Rupert. Thirteen."
"Are you serious?"
"Deathly. They were even wearing their 'Honour' blades to the wedding."
"Guesses on the thirteenth?"
"I'm not sure...but were you aware that Conrad Berthelmes is an SS-Gruppenführer?"
"That I did know," Gray answered, "he was given honorary rank about twenty years ago, in recognition of his efforts to keep the peace between the RFSS and the Kaiser. Whatever that means."
To the side I saw Andrew pause, and get the slightly glazed look he gets when he's in contact with the Technocracy data repository.
"He was made a full Knight of the Order in SY142," he said, after a moment, "having been a Companion for about seven years before that."
I looked at him, then back at Gray.
"It's possible. If your theory is right. He is your son, so he has the potential, and he is definitely a registered mage. And seven years could be an apprenticeship."
"I'm pretty sure my theory is right."
"We've encountered and dealt with Black Lodge members in the past, and certainly not all of those I've encountered have been Black Knights," Andrew commented, in the tone of someone who knew by far too much experience, "so that doesn't tally, unless he's changed how he appoints its members. Which I suppose is always possible."
"Could they have been lesser functionaries, involved in some of the lower level ceremonies?" I suggested, slightly feeling as if the wind had been taken out of my sails, as I'd been so certain.
"They were certainly involved in ritual," Gray supplied, "you noticed the dagger I had back at Epiphany last year."
"True."
"Do you have any names?" Andrew asked Gray, who thought for a moment.
"Leni Stolz, Hans Berthold and Daan Thorsten are the most recent ones."
Andrew paused again for a moment, as before, and then answered. "All of those were certainly Companions of Order, and for more than seven years. In fact, Berthold was briefly a Knight, before dying...in a tragic training accident."
"Tragic training accident my ass," Gray snorted, which got a chuckle out of Andrew.
"Oh, and an additional gem - Leni Stolz's father, Leon, was a full Knight. In fact, I think I may have accounted for him a while back. So seven years as a Companion might give them some access to the ritual workings, or certainly to more of the knowledge of the group. The Knights certainly seem to promote via Dead Man's Shoes, so I guess if none of the full Knights died conveniently in the right timeframe..."
"But Berthold aside, for the most part they don't send their key players out to places where we might catch them?" Gray said, with a sigh, "Blast it! But why send an organ grinder, when you can send a monkey?"
Andrew thought again then added.
"You know, the most recent Black Knight is Silke von Halle. She was made Companion around the time she was given command of the Ahnenerbe, and had been a Member of the order since early in her association with Amt 8. In fact, now I check, the post of Ahnenerbe commander has always been held by a woman, and all of them have been Knights. Von Halle's predecessor stepped down as Ahnenerbe Chief in 143 but remained a Knight until her death in service in October 151. Von Halle was made up to Knight in December 151."
"The Black Lodge Priestess?" Gray asked.
"She was certainly one of those with a tainted blade," I supplied.
"Of the other Knights," Andrew continued, "all of them have been appointed within the last thirty years, except Rupert himself, Jürgen Kessler and Johan Hartwin. Kessler's appointment was in..."
Then he paused a moment, and looked disturbed, as if he'd realised something he didn't previously know "...'69. And Hartwin's was in '70."
"Okay, it looks like you theory is still sound, Sir," Gray commented, "What else?"
Feeling more confident, I continued. "Two. Andreas is back and functional."
"Fuck!" my son swore.
"It's been nearly three years," I answered, "so the timing is about right."
"Human?" he asked.
"Not sure. In the middle of the Wewelsburg didn't seem like the best place to check that out."
"Ah. A moment of common sense, in an evening of utter idiocy" came Gray's comment, but under the sarcasm, I could see that he was less pissed with me than he was.
"And Rupert transferred him tonight."
"What?" Andrew exclaimed.
"As of about ten o'clock this evening, Tristan Heydrich is Oberstgruppenführer-SD and Andreas Delatz has been made Commander of the Waffen-SS. In Rupert's own words, 'he just isn't that good at being a policeman'. Not sure what's happening with Matthias Kapler - Rupert just mentioned that he had a special project lined up for him. I got the impression it might be Outside."
"You spoke to Bloody Rupert?"
"Of course I did, Andrew," I answered, "it was his wedding. I was rather obliged to."
"Anything else," Gray asked.
"Three. A whole bunch of personnel changes and promotions. Theodor is now a Gruppenführer, the Head of the Forstapo was made Oberstgruppenführer and there were a lot of others. I'm not sure of all the names, but I'll write you up a list of the ones I remember in the morning. And four. There was a strange undercurrent between Wilhelm and Rupert."
"The Kaiser was there?" Andrew said.
"It wouldn't have been very politic on Rupert's part not to invite him," I pointed out.
"True."
"But something was off. To the extent that almost as soon as he saw me, he made sure that one of the Imperial Knights was acting as close protection for me."
"Very interesting," Gray mused, "I'm going to have to look into that one. Is that it?"
"Just one more thing," I answered, and reached into my pocket for the box, which I threw on the table between us, "I want a full assessment of the implications of this. Oh, and before you open it Gray, Andrew, would you mind checking it to make sure that there aren't any spells on either the box or the contents."
"Can't you do that?"
"Haven't had time, and actually, I'd rather someone else did it, because if it's been tampered with, I wouldn't be at all surprised if the spells were specific enough that I couldn't see them."
"You're the forensics expert."
"You're a full investigative specialist, Andrew. Please, indulge me."
"Okay," he answered, with a shrug, and I felt him bring his magical senses to bear. He concentrated for a few minutes, then shook his head. "Nothing. Are you going to open the box now?"
Gray reached for it and flipped back the lid.
"Oh, this is priceless," he said, and I saw him crack a smile. I had a feeling he didn't mean it just out of amusement: his mind was already kicking over the implications. But to the side of him Andrew's face darkened as he saw what the box contained.
"What in Hell's name?" he swore, looking as if he was going to snatch it from Gray and throw it into the fire, but Gray deftly closed the lid and tossed it back to me.
"I need a security and military assessment of what that means."
"Honorary?" Gray asked.
"That's what he said," I answered, "but what can an honorary officer do?"
"I'll work on it and let you know," he answered, and got to his feet. Andrew remained seated, and from his body language he was trying to balance surprise and anger.
"Am I forgiven, Gray?" I asked, also standing.
"You'd better ask Claire that," he replied, "but I'm not planning to throw you in the brig any more, as a danger to yourself and the State."
"And will you withdraw your resignation?"
"I believe you already ripped that up, Robert," he answered, then turned to Andrew, "I suspect we should allow his idiot Majesty to go and try to make peace with his lovely queen."
Silently Andrew got to his feet, but the look he threw me spoke volumes. He was going to have this out with me, and soon.
"Until tomorrow, Robert," Gray said, "and don't forget to make up that list of promotions for me."
"Aye, sir," I answered, throwing a mock salute, then watched as the pair of them headed back out of the French doors. Then, once I was alone, I headed upstairs to see what punishment Claire had in store for me.