The Wewelsburg
2nd May RY154
Perhaps I should introduce myself. My name is Rikart Schultz, and at this point in time I have the...some would say dubious, but I would disagree...honour of being the officer commanding the RFSS's bodyguard: the SS Honour Guard. My mother, Marina Schultz, is alive and well and is one of the chief administrators of the Berlin Lebensborn Centre, where I was born and bred. My father is Conrad Berthelmes, Chairman of the NSRAP. I am Talented, a registered shape shifter, and an initiate of the Sable Pattern, thanks to my father's bloodline, and I probably have one of the most unappreciated jobs in the Reich.
On the bright side, I have been commander of the Honour Guard for over nine years and I'm still alive, which given the last month I consider a blessing. However, these last three or four years have been far more challenging than any of the preceding twenty-five in my experience, and right now, I feel like I'm staring into the Abyss.
Twenty-five days ago, the Reich signed a peace treaty with the Kingdom of Sable. After months of formal deliberations, it was decided that the threat from the Machine, realm of the traitor Andreas Delatz, is greater than the differences between our two nations, and a formal Treaty has been entered into. At the signing, however, which I attended in my capacity as Head of the Honour Guard, one of our own attempted to kill the RF and everyone else who happened to be there.
That set into motion a series of events that culminated in the execution of one of the Knights tonight. With the exception of the departure of Lady Silke von Halle, to become a member of the Master's Church of Protection last December, I've never been present for the passing of a Knight. Naturally, I've attended the ceremonies for those of our number killed while undertaking their duties, which has happened three times during my tenure, but never has a Knight been stripped of rank and executed in the history of the Order, until tonight.
I don't pretend to be a ceremonial expert of the skill of the RF, the Master of our Order: I am merely a follower in that regard, and have never taken a lead role in proceedings since my initiation. But even I could tell that what he was doing this time was different. Dangerous. And the energies he was weaving were far beyond anything I've ever seen used before within the ceremonies of our group. At the point when the traitor pronounced his Death Curse - that final act of vengeance that those of my blood can inflict - I'd held my breath, and I could feel coldness up and down my spine. I expected it to fall on the Master, but instead it was the Machine who was the subject of his hatred.
And even when the traitor's life was ended by the man I've come to know as my father, Conrad Berthelmes, albeit I barely know the man himself except as a Knight, it was the Master who took the energy generated from that act into himself for later use.
After the act was done, I felt a flash of concern for my father. He looked tired and ill, and his participation had obviously taken its toll on him, as he was leaning against the altar for support. However, what worried me more, both from a professional and a personal perspective, was the state the Master was in. He was pale and shaking, and I could see that he was under a great deal of strain.
"Master, are you alright?" I asked, very concerned.
"I will be..." he replied, his voice quiet, and I thought I could hear pain in it, which is never good when you're supposed to be protecting him from harm. But instead he looked over at my father, and I could see his anxiety, "Conrad?"
"Justice is served," my father replied, his voice strong, in contrast to his physical appearance.
"Marin," the Master said to our Priestess, the usual snap of command in his tone, "look after him. See him safely to his quarters and give him what relief he needs. He has served us well this night."
She moved towards him, but as she did, he stood and retook his place, presumably awaiting the formal ending of the night's Working before handing himself into her care. Then the Master looked at us, and I could see he was trying hard to hide the discomfort he was in.
"Brothers...Sister. It is done. The stain our former comrade laid on our company has been removed."
But like my father, the strength of his tone belied his actual state. Obviously, I wasn't the only one who noticed, as Dominik Gerlinde stepped forward, but the Master gestured for him to return to his place.
"Our business is done here...but I have a further task tonight. Jürgen...by the precedent of our Group, responsibility falls to you with my departure. Please, close down the Working space and dispose of the body , and I will see you in the morning."
"Yes, Herr Reichsführer," Kessler replied, promptly, although there was a note of questioning in his voice.
However, the Master didn't say any more. Instead, he stood up straight, then commanded the wards to let him exit. I was torn between my duty to him, and my responsibility to the Brotherhood to help to close down the Working, but duty won out and I followed him out to the vestibule, where he had begun the process of changing. His skin seemed odd, almost as if it was glowing from within, and his breathing was laboured. Moreover, he was leaning on the wall for support and he was obviously in pain.
"Master, can I help?" I asked, moving to help him remove his robe so he could change.
"I'll be fine, Rikart," he said quietly, "as I said, there's something else I need to do tonight."
"Then let me come with you. You need my help."
"I wouldn't ask you to follow me to where I have to go next."
"You're in no fit state, sir," I protested, but he looked at me and I could see purpose in his eyes.
"You objections have been noted, Standartenführer Schultz, but I have to do this alone. Please, rejoin the others. I'll be back later."
I didn't like it, but there was something about the look in his eyes, and the way he was moving, that told me that nothing I was going to say made a difference, and eventually I bowed to the inevitable.
"As you wish, Herr Reichsführer," I said, with a salute, and then returned inside with a heavy heart.
We finished tidying up, and Tristan Heydrich locked the body in a stasis spell, so it wouldn't leak, before we transported it upstairs, wrapped in the black cloth from the altar. We were met up in the Crypt by my deputy, Heinrike Karsten, and Marius Waldemar, one of the longer serving Knights, and both looked worried. We returned to the courtyard of the castle, and then Obergruppenführer Lange offered to dispose of the body. He teleported out with it, and the rest of us went our separate ways, but as the other Knights headed to their quarters, my father helped by Marin Adler, I turned to my subordinates.
"Is the RF alright?" Heinrike asked, "he looked awful when he came out."
"I know," I replied, "I offered to go with him, but he wasn't having any of it. Did he say anything to you?"
"You're not going to like it," Marius replied, his expression stony.
"Almost certainly not, but I'd better know."
"He said, and I quote, 'I'm about to do something either very smart, utterly suicidal, or potentially both'. And then he headed for the staircase."
"What the bloody Hell is he playing at?" I asked, but I knew I wasn't going to get an answer. Then I shook my head.
"Never mind. No doubt he'll come back. He usually does. Who's on the graveyard shift?"
"Marius and I are on until two," Heinrike answer, "Ingrid and Kurt are taking over from us."
"Could you cope with extending your shift to keep an eye out for him for me?"
"Of course, sir," she replied, "I'd like to see him safely home as well and you look rougher than normal tonight."
"Then let them know. In the meantime, the best place to wait is probably his quarters."
"And you?"
"I'm going to get some sleep. I'll see you in the morning."
"Yes, sir," they said smartly, and saluted, and then I headed upstairs to my own quarters, the ones I qualify for as a Knight, which are next door to the boss's, so I can be easily on hand if I'm needed. I showered and got ready for bed, but when I lay down, sleep wouldn't come. Not least because about five minutes after I put head to pillow, a gale seemed to blow up out of nowhere, and started rattling the windows. I listened to the wind howling, and hail against the glass, but there was no let up. So in the end, about an hour later, I gave up and dressed once more, and went to check in with the others.
There was still no sign of him, and when I asked around the castle, no-one had seen him since the evening before. I was beginning to get seriously concerned. I mentally ran through the places he usually disappeared to. Given his demeanour, it obviously wasn't anywhere in Berlin, or one of his own residences. He was going further afield. Maybe Sable? But then, going to see his brother wouldn't normally count as utterly suicidal, unless he was planning to be in the same room as Andrew de Lacy.
Which left something more esoteric. And esoteric certainly tied up with what he'd seemed to be doing during the ritual, and with whatever had been wrong with him in the vestibule after the ceremony. I could think of at least four occasions within the last year, since he had nearly been killed by General Prince Andrew, when he and Robert of Sable had been involved in very high-powered workings with long-lasting consequences, and I didn't feel comforted that on three of those occasions, he'd headed off without any of us to watch his back.
I knew, then, that even if the storm blew out that moment, I wasn't going to get any sleep until I knew he was safely back, and joined Heinrike and Marius in the boss's suite to wait. Probably about half an hour later, I got a Trump call. I opened, up to it, hoping it was the RF coming home, and was surprised to find myself looking into the face of Robert of Sable. He looked tired, and worried.
"Your Majesty?" I answered, unsure what else to do, suffice to say that I needed to get rid of him as soon as possible, "this isn't a great time."
"I can guess," he replied, "but I may be able to help you. You've lost track of someone...?"
I debated how much to say, but realised that we were probably talking about the same person, so I acknowledged with a nod.
"He's with me, but he's in a very bad way," he continued, and my heart sank, and then to my surprise he handed me his Trump, "go somewhere where you can arrange some decent, private medical attention and call me back."
"Of course," I replied, not really knowing what else I could do, and broke the call.
"What is it, sir?" Heinrike asked, as I broke the Trump call.
"Hopefully nothing, but we'll see. You stay here. I need to think."
"Yes, sir," she replied, and I headed down the corridor, to where I could let myself think.
The questions were, who to ask to help me, and where should we go? From his tone and general demeanour, I had a feeling I wasn't going to like what I saw when I called His Majesty back, and I suspected that I wanted to see what state the RF was in before bringing him somewhere mainline. After all, the vultures would circle very quickly if he was as badly off as it sounded. I thought through some possibilities and came to the conclusion that about the only person I could turn to at this moment in time was Dominik Gerlinde. Gerlinde isn't someone I get on particularly well with. There's something...unsettling about him, as if he's broken inside. But I know knew that the RF trusts him, and that when he'd been injured the year before, Gerlinde had behaved himself and brought the boss back to health.
I guessed he was probably in his quarters, and so rather than try to call him, I made my way down a floor and along to his door. I steeled myself for the inevitable wrath I was about to face, and then knocked. It was opened by one of the serving girls, wearing nothing but a man's dressing gown, but when I asked to see Gerlinde, she opened the door to let me in, and then headed back to the bedroom. He came into the lounge a short while later, dressed in a very similar dressing gown, probably the same one, and looking less than pleased.
"What?"
I pondered whether to apologise, or even dissemble, but decided that actually, my duty to the RF meant that I was in the right in this instance. I just hoped his companion wasn't listening through the door.
"I need a doctor, Herr Obergruppenführer, and you came to mind. I need for you to come with me."
"Is it urgent?"
"I would not have disturbed you if it were not. It's the Master."
"Wait!" he ordered, and stalked back into his room. Outside the lounge window I could see flashes of lightning, and the storm was still lashing, although it didn't seem as loud here. He was obviously on the more sheltered side of the castle than I was. He returned a couple of minutes later dressed in shirt and trousers, and indicated for me to lead the way. Once we were out in the corridor, I paused.
"Could you recommend a private location?"
"Why? Where is he?"
"I didn't want to say too much before," I replied, "sir, my recommendation at this point is we find a quiet, private secure location, and then assess the situation once he's with us."
"By the gods you're being annoying this evening, Schultz," he snapped, but rather than reacting, I waited. "Alright then. Schloss Wardenburg. Now."
He pulled a Trump deck out of his pocket and chose one, then concentrated on it, and moments later, we were in the hallway of what looked like a substantial building. I had never been to Gerlinde's principal seat in the lands he held as Fuerst von Wardenburg, and one of the boss's vassals, but the hallway was impressive, lined with stuffed animal heads and tapestries. The lights flickered and moments later there was a clap of thunder. The storm was obviously here as well.
"This way," he barked, and stalked to the staircase, then headed up. He led me to a decent sized guest suite, and then looked at me, "will this do?"
"It will do very well, I believe," I replied, "no-one is likely to look for him here."
"Are you going to share any more pertinent details, Standartenführer Schultz," he asked, his tone sweet with sarcasm.
"All will revealed shortly, sir," I replied. To both of us. I hoped to the gods that he wasn't dead, or Gerlinde would have my head moments before he took that of Robert of Sable. I got the King's Trump out of my pocket and concentrated on it.
"What the Hell are you doing?" Gerlinde demanded, as he saw whose picture was on the card, but I ignored him, and moments later, contact was made, "Forgive the delay, Your Majesty. Finding the right location was...tricky."
"I understand," came the answer, "let me bring him through."
And I felt control of the Trump contact pass from me to the King of Sable.
I hadn't realised anyone could do that, but when I considered fighting it, I came across mental shields that were sufficiently strong, that I decided not to be a fool. Moments later, he wheeled through a medical gurney. Under other circumstances, I would have found it hilarious - the King of Sable acting as a hospital orderly - but one look at the figure on the bed and I knew this was deadly serious. The RF was cold and pale, and his eyes were closed, and his breathing seemed very shallow. I was honestly shocked. At least when he'd been stabbed there had been a spark of life about him, but this time...
"Perhaps an explanation is in order, Robert of Sable," Gerlinde said, coldly as he came over and started checking the boss over.
"In both directions, Obergruppenführer Gerlinde," came the reply, and I could hear worry in Robert's, "from your presence here, I'm guessing that Schultz has asked you to act as my brother's physician. So I need to give you his immediate medical history."
Gerlinde nodded, and then "Schultz... give us a moment."
I looked at him, debating whether to refuse, but when I caught his eye the look behind it was cold and dark, and I knew that the best thing I could do was exactly what he said. I nodded, then crossed over to the window to watch the storm. My only consolation was that Robert of Sable has the reputation of being an honest man, and from my observations during his monthly tea parties, he actually seems to care for the boss, and he wouldn't hand him into Gerlinde's charge if he thought it was a mistake. In the background, I could hear them talking in urgent, quiet voices, but the sound of the wind prevented me from hearing them.
After a few minutes of urgent consultation, their voices seemed to return to something more normal, so I let the curtain drop and crossed back to join them. As I arrived, Robert of Sable was speaking.
"I don't know, and can't make a judgement without some details I'm not sure I want to hear." I momentarily wished that I knew what they were talking about, as from their tone and body language, it was very bad, "Guesses? Possibly he consciously suppressed it, because it was getting in his way. Possibly whatever he was doing overloaded it. Possibly he decided it was time to lay aside hypocrisy, follow his own tenets, and voluntarily surrender it. Only he knows, and in case you hadn't noticed, he isn't talking. Is there anything you can tell me which might help?"
"He was manipulating a great deal of energy," Gerlinde's replied, his tone flat.
"Presumably generated during the ritual murder of Rutger Sigiswald,," came the answer, and I realised that he knew exactly what had happened at the castle the night before, "which you were both so cheerfully part of earlier this evening."
The comment sounded so casual, an yet there was a cold edge to it. I felt myself tense. As he had the day before, the man had got the wrong end of the stick and was up on his high horse. When was he ever going to understand that what the Brotherhood do is for the greater good, not for our own personal advancement?
I glanced over at Gerlinde, to see a cold, wolfish smile on his face, and realised that if any of us did this for the power, it was probably him.
"You seem remarkably well informed."
"I've been reading between the lines, given some things he said to me yesterday. So he was manipulating a lot of energy. That matches with what Andrew implied..."
I was tense before, but mention of the man who had nearly killed my principal a year before made me tenser still, but Gerlinde beat me to the question.
"What does General de Lacy have to do with this?"
"From here, he went to Andrew, and from there they went to the Machine Homeworld. At which point Rupert launched a major magical attack on Andreas's home base. Andrew was very specific in saying that it felt like a Death Curse, but that's as far as I've got with reconstructing what happened. Rupert did mention yesterday that he'd got a theory about Curses that he wanted to prove...presumably that was what he was doing."
I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Why in the name of the gods would the boss willingly put himself into Andrew de Lacy's hands? My less than serious thoughts of earlier in the evening came crashing back to me. If he was planning to be in the same room as Andrew de Lacy, then thinking he might be doing something 'utterly suicidal' probably was the right reaction.
"Tell me, Robert," Gerlinde said, quietly, "how do you know that it wasn't your son that did this to him?"
"To be honest, I don't," came the answer, but something in the way he spoke made me think he didn't believe it. "Given that Andrew was the one who passed him through to me, I'm inclined to believe that this was something Rupert did to himself, either intentionally or unintentionally. Andrew would have been more likely to just gut him and have done with it."
"Fair point," Gerlinde conceded, "could he have been injured by the Machine?"
"Again, possible, but I'm tempted to think it's unlikely. I'm going to hate myself for asking this, but you said he was manipulating the energy from the ritual. What exactly did he do?"
"He removed the traitor's Pattern imprint and stored the energy inside himself, along with the subsequent energy released by the execution."
"And Sigiswald's Death Curse? We both know that there has to have been one."
"He pronounced it as the Master took his Pattern," I said, feeling the same cold shiver down my spine as I said it as I had earlier. That had been the worst moment of the evening, as it felt to go against the very being of our kind.
"Do you remember what it was?"
"Not word for word..." I had to admit, "but it was against the Machine."
"If I was being murdered, I rather doubt that I would have Cursed anyone but my killer," he replied, his tone sarcastic, but before I could say something I regretted, Gerlinde interjected.
"The Master is very persuasive."
Robert of Sable obviously considered some snappy retort to that, but in the end returned to thinking aloud.
"So Rupert forces Sigiswald to Curse the Machine...and within ten minutes, he pronounces a similar Curse in the location where it's going to do the most damage. Of course, one of our kin can choose to pronounce a Curse coldly and rationally, rather than while in the process of, say, dying, if they hate someone or something enough. But doing so usually has very bad physiological and/or psychological effects, and therefore usually involves a certain amount of desperation.
"I don't claim to be a doctor," I pointed out, "but this looks like a 'very bad physiological effect'?"
"Definitely," he replied, accepting my point with reasonable grace, "but while Rupert hates Andreas with a passion, we all know that he isn't the self-sacrificing kind...so he wouldn't have taken the risk of pronouncing a voluntary Curse..." He paused, and then his whole expression changed from puzzled to horrified, "Oh Christ..."
"What?" I asked, a lot more worried at his reaction than I had been before.
"That's what he did, isn't it? Take Sigiswald's Curse along with the energy as he stripped his Pattern imprint."
"As I understand it, yes," Gerlinde answered, smoothly.
"And then what...he held it within himself and delivered it later?"
"Again, as I understand it, that was his intention."
"Except he miscalculated."
"How?" he answered, arrogance in his tone, "It sounds as if everything went exactly to his calculations."
"Until you consider what powers a Curse. Desperation. Hatred. Revenge. Destruction. Death. Even if it wasn't aimed at him directly, that much negative energy, magnified by the power of Pattern imprint of the man pronouncing the Curse, and the intensity of a death ritual, and then taken within himself...there's no way it wouldn't affect him. And at the very worst, it could physically, neurologically and magically burn him out."
"Which explains why his shifting has ceased to function..." Gerlinde mused, and I realised that had been what they'd been discussing earlier. But how could the boss's shape shifting give up on him. Over the last couple of years I'd come to the realisation that he was an unregistered shape shifter, but I worked on the theory that he had his reasons and it wasn't my place to doubt them. But that he no longer had the ability, while probably being safer for him, was difficult to comprehend.
"Bugger that. It explains why he had a heart attack on the floor of Sable infirmary. If anything, I'm surprised he made it back from Prime alive at all."
I was struck dumb. A heart attack? How could the RFSS be felled by something so...mundane. It was like a bad dream. We stared at each other in awkward silence for a couple of minutes, listening to the gale howling outside, and the hail rattling on the window, but eventually I found the courage to ask.
"Will he recover?"
"Honestly? I don't know," came the answer, and suddenly my stomach felt like lead. How could the RFSS die on my watch? "But I really don't want to think about the consequences for the Sable universe if he doesn't....if one of us is rendered utterly incapable..."
"What do you mean?" Gerlinde asked, puzzled.
"Let me take an example. ...that storm outside. It's linked to what he did, or more specifically, the effect of what he did on him. The fact that he is severely weakened, and almost died as a direct result of messing with the fundamental tenets of how Sable works, is having repercussions. I'd guess the Black Pattern is feeling... insecure...and it's decided to take it out on Magica Superior."
Despite being a Pattern initiate, I wouldn't consider myself to be an expert in metaphysics, and this sounded incredible. That the RFSS being sick could cause a storm of such force...
"But you were shot a couple of years ago, as I understand it," I protested, "and he was badly injured last year. Yet I don't remember anything like that happening..."
"That was straight, physical damage...in both our cases. A lot of it, but normal damage with the exception of the weapon which inflicted it, This time, though, he was dealing in metaphysics...playing with the stuff of the universe...taking actions which are against the very nature of who and what we are. And to make matters worse, he did it while under the influence of a powerful stimulant, which may well have made the physiological side effects of his actions considerably worse. People like he and I can't afford to play these kind of games without considering the wider picture, but he bloody well went ahead and did it anyway."
"Powerful stimulant?" I asked, recalling the night in Berlin a few months before, which had left me...damaged... and requiring the RFSS's help, which had been duly given.
"Bluntly. I detected cocaine in his bloodstream. That, mixed with what he did...not a good combination. One of you should talk to him about that before it becomes a problem. He might listen to you."
"If he ever wakes up," Gerlinde answered, smoothly. I looked at him, startled at how emotionless he sounded. I'd thought he loved the RF like a father. "But that aside. We can't stand here talking about this forever. Do we help him? Or do you think he's beyond saving...?"
"You can't afford him to be beyond saving," came the answer, "otherwise, your country as you know it will never be the same again."
And I instinctively knew that he believed every word he was saying.
"Then what do you suggest?" Gerlinde said, conceding the point.
"First. Get him to the Wewelsburg. He'll be closer to the Black Pattern, and if it isn't too pissed off with him for what he did to Sigiswald, being close to it will help him regenerate. His being there and stable might also calm it down somewhat, which in turn should help neutralise the storm."
"That can be done," I concurred, eager to be able to do something useful, as currently I felt like a spare wheel.
"Second. Get his shape shifting active, so his physical injuries can begin to heal. From what I know of your abilities, Obergruppenführer Gerlinde, that should be well within your capabilities."
"Indeed."
"And third?" I asked, quietly.
"Start with one and two, and see if it makes a difference," he replied, "if it doesn't, then I have no idea what three is."
I didn't know how to respond to that.
"Do you intend to help us?" I asked, hopefully, but I saw him shake his head.
"I'm happy to consult if you need me to - in fact, if there is neurological damage as well as physical, you will probably need me to - but I cannot and will not stay. Even if the place didn't stand for everything I hate about the Reich magically, and disagree with in Rupert's policies, I really can't see any way either the Sable or the Reich press could spin news that the King of Sable was hanging around the Wewelsburg well, if it got found out."
"Probably not," Gerlinde answered, with a wry smile, "perhaps you should be on your way. "
"Indeed...I have some explaining of my own to do as it is."
And with that, he concentrated for a few moments, and then disappeared into a Trump rainbow, leaving myself, Gerlinde and the unconscious body of the boss. He crossed to his patient and checked his vital signs, then nodded.
"I suppose we'd better be going," he said, and brought out a Trump of the Wewelsburg courtyard.
"Is that safe?" I asked, "I'm not sure we want to turn up with him lying utterly helpless for all to see."
"Then what do you suggest?"
"Contacting Heinrike. Asking her to go to his quarters and bringing him through directly. She is a Knight. She'll be discreet."
"His quarters will be guarded," Gerlinde answered, with a sneer.
"Then my quarters. Or just outside in the corridor. But not in the middle of the castle. After all, my people are going to be the ones who have to guard him, and I don't want to make this any harder than it's already going to be by letting the whole world see what state he's in."
He looked at me for a moment, then shrugged.
"As you wish."
"Thank you."
I brought out my deck and pulled out Heinrike's card. Hopefully, she hadn't quite gone off shift yet. There was a moment's delay, and then she answered.
"Sir?"
"We need to bring someone through. Could you ask Marius to run interference for me?"
"Of course," she replied, and I heard her giving orders, "ready."
"Thanks."
I looked at Gerlinde, and he indicated for me to help get the boss to his feet. I thought about arguing, as it seemed better for him to stay on the gurney, but decided it wouldn't be worth it. We supported him between us, and then I extended my hand and Heinrike brought us through. She was obviously startled, but didn't say anything. I opened the door of the boss's suite and went in, and Gerlinde and I took him through to the master bedroom and put him to bed. Then he headed out, saying he'd be back, and I tried to make the RF comfortable.
"What happened?" Heinrike asked, coming in, concern on her face.
"He used the energy from tonight's ritual to attack the Machine on its Homeworld, and now he's paying the price for it. We need to make sure he's protected until he recovers. And we need to try to keep this quiet."
"Understood," she replied, and stepped out into the lounge to wait.
Gerlinde returned as short while later, wearing a medical coat and wheeling a trolley on which were various supplies he'd purloined from the infirmary. Quickly and quietly - and I had to admit, professionally - he started setting up IVs, magical monitoring equipment and the like around the boss's bed.
"Robert of Sable suggested that we needed to reactivate his shifting," I commented as we worked.
"Then Robert of Sable was talking bollocks," came the answer, "he's in no fit state for me to do that. The procedure is hard on a healthy body. I'd probably give him another heart attack if I tried."
"But..."
"No, Schultz," he answered, "listen to me. After all, you asked me to act as his doctor."
I was about to answer that I didn't believe Robert of Sable would have suggested it if he didn't think it could be done, when I heard a commotion out in the main lounge of the suite.
"I want to see him now," I heard the distinct voice of Herzogin Annifrid say, and could also hear younger voices in the background. My heart sank. It sounded as if she'd discovered something was wrong, and had brought the children to see him.
I heard Marius try to delay her and glanced over at Gerlinde. He nodded and went to the door, and a few moments later he returned with Annifrid and Tristan Heydrich, Heinrike behind them. They both came over, and Frida burst into tears. I pulled her up a chair and she sat beside her husband, holding his hand in the way a drowning man would grab for a life jacket. Heydrich was more restrained. He took in the scene and then turned his attention to myself.
"What happened, Rikart?" he asked.
"He bit off more than he could chew, by the sound of it," Gerlinde answered, his tone almost dismissive, before I had the chance to speak, and attracted Heydrich's attention.
"You and I need to talk," Heydrich replied, his tone sharp, and he indicated the door. The pair of them departed, leaving me alone with the Herzogin and the unconscious body of my boss. Heinrike came in a few moments later.
"They left together," she commented, "although Obergruppenführer Gerlinde said he'd return shortly."
"Our job remains as it ever was...we need to keep him safe. From this point, you and the others only take orders from me, and if they argue, say I'm invoking Knight's Privilege."
"Knight's Privilege?"
"The boss told me about it once. With the exception of him, all the Knights are equal. It goes beyond rank and division. Admittedly, I think he was referring to when we met in our capacity as Brothers when he told me, but I'm damned if I'm going to neglect my duty to him if, say, I get ordered out of the room by our nominal superior officers. Even if, technically, our chain of command goes directly from me to him. Starting with the morning shift, at least one of us needs to be at his side at all times, with two others guarding his quarters and within easy call. Probably one in the lounge, one outside. And either you or I should be nearby in case we're needed"
"Understood."
I looked at her, then sighed.
"I'm well aware I could end up court martialled over this, but I won't let it be said that I didn't try."
"Once he wakes up, I'm sure he'll back you," she replied, and laid a reassuring hand on my shoulder, "Now, you need to get some sleep. You're no good to him dead on your feet. And I'll see if there's anything I can do to make the Herzogin comfortable."
"Thanks, Heinrike. Did I hear the children?"
"Josef and Isabelle. They want to see their father, but Marius is fielding them for now."
"When the Herzogin is ready for them, you'd best bring them in. And then they need to be settled in the spare room. Although even the boss's quarters aren't designed to have children in for any length of time. What about Kristina?"
"She's apparently still at Panenske Brezany. But no doubt she'll be brought here later."
"Probably."
With that, I headed back out to the lounge, and met Ingrid and Kurt as they came in. I briefed them on the situation, and then headed back to my own suite. Once there, I set up an alarm spell for three hours' time, and then cast a sleep spell on myself to make sure I actually successfully dozed off for a bit.
* * * * *
I awoke as planned, at around 7.30am, and noticed with some relief that the storm had blown itself out in the night. I showered and tried to freshen up a bit, and soon I felt approximately human again. I vaguely wondered whether anyone had informed Marja Tomas, the boss's PA, that he wasn't going to be in the office and placed a call, knowing that she was usually in by then, but it seemed she was running late. Never mind. It could wait. I put down the phone, and then headed next door to check in with the others. Kurt was on the door, and saluted when he saw me.
"Anything?"
"All clear, sir."
"Glad to hear it. Ingrid is still inside?"
"She is. As is Oberstgruppenführer Heydrich."
"What does he want?" I asked, surprised.
"He hasn't left since bringing in the Herzogin."
That was curious, and also slightly worrying. Why would he have stayed? I headed inside and saw him sitting in one of the chairs in the lounge. He looked tired, and his shirt was open at the neck, but he seemed to be waiting for me. There was a pot of coffee on the table beside him, and he indicated for me to pour myself a cup.
"Feeling better, Rikart?" he asked, pleasantly.
"Somewhat, sir," I replied, savouring the strong, black coffee as I settled down opposite him.
"Frida is still with the RFSS, but the children are asleep in the other room. Silke was here a couple of hours ago. She came in with Dominik, but she headed off back to Eboracum a while back."
"And where's Obergruppenführer Gerlinde now?"
"He's gone to get some sleep."
"Any change in the RFSS's condition?"
"Nothing new," he replied. He paused, then added, "I'm well aware that you and your people are going to take the brunt of things until he's up and about again."
"It seems inevitable."
"I want you to know that you have my backing if you need it," he said, meeting my gaze as he did so. As far as I could tell, he was telling the truth, and I found myself at a loss for words.
"I'd also like to suggest something," Heydrich continued, before I could say anything, "that I contact the Graf von Klieburg to give you a hand."
"Is that entirely wise?" I asked.
The hatred between Gerlinde and Jorge von Raeder was legendary, even by the standards of our organisation, and it was only made worse by the fact that Jorge had been promoted to Honorary Oberstgruppenführer on what was supposed to be his final retirement from active duty, and that since Gerlinde had been busted down a rank, about three months before, Jorge effectively outranked him. So the idea of having both of them hovering around the boss when he was out for the count was not a pleasant one.
"The RFSS is completely defenceless," came the reply, "both magically and mundanely. I know you and the Guard will do your best to protect him, but the help of a Priest of Protection would be a distinct benefit to you. I'm also aware that you and Klieburg are friends, and that he has a very good relationship with the RFSS, so as much as I'd trust anyone in this organisation, you and he are the best chance the RFSS has of avoiding...difficulties."
I was surprised at his honesty. But I suppose the head of the SD would know where the skeletons were buried, and who would be most the likely to bear grudges.
"I don't argue the logic of the suggestion," I replied, cautiously.
"But...?"
"But I'm worried that the last time he and Obergruppenführer Gerlinde met it turned into a very public, highly inappropriate pissing contest, and right now, the last thing we need is a turf war across the RFSS's hospital bed."
"I'm willing to do my best to control Dominik if you think you can do the same with Klieburg," he replied, and he really seemed to mean it. What could I do but agree?
"I'll try."
"Excellent. I'll give him a call, and he should be with you later this morning."
"Thank you, sir."
"Was there anything else?"
"I've arranged for a couple of the nursery staff from Panenske Brezany to come here to keep an eye on the children. They'll bring Kristina with them, as Frida expressed a wish that she not be left on her own. Having his family here is going to add to the pressures, I know, but it seems safest. There is another suite down the hall...the one across from yours...which I'll talk to the Major Domo about getting cleared and temporarily reassigned to them, so they aren't under your feet all the time. But we have to be careful. After all, now would be the ideal opportunity for anyone with a grudge against the RFSS...not, of course that anyone does..." the latter was said with a wry smile on his face "...to act against his family."
"We'll keep them safe," I replied.
"I know you will."
"Has anyone told Erbherzog Berthold yet?"
"He's out on a training exercise, but he'll be back in a couple of days. Let's hope the lad isn't about to inherit, eh?"
"Indeed, sir," I answered, and with that he stood.
"I will be in touch later...when I've had some sleep myself."
"Thank you, sir," I replied.
With an exchange of salutes, he headed for the door, but then paused on the threshold and turned back to me.
"Oh, and one more thing. In case anyone else neglects to inform you. There will be a meeting of the Winter Circle in the Gruppenführersaal tomorrow morning at 9am."
"I'll be there, sir."
"I know you will," he repeated, and with that, he headed for the door and was gone.
If anything, he left me feeling surprised. Everything he'd said had seemed rather more civilised than I'd expected from any of the senior Knights, who inevitably have their own ambitions and agendas. But then, Heydrich was probably one of the few who the boss considered a friend, rather than just a colleague. Which also explained why he'd been the one who had brought the Herzogin to see her husband. The four of them - the boss, his wife, Heydrich and his lady, Veronika - were reasonably close. At least, as close as the boss was to anyone. While he was also on good terms with both Gerlinde and Obst Kessler, from my observations, the relationship there was subtly different: more professional, less personal. I could certainly never see him standing on a public stage playing Bach with Dominik Gerlinde.
Once he was gone, I headed through into the boss's bedroom, where Ingrid was on guard inside. On a chaise longue, off to one side, I could see the Herzogin, sleeping fitfully.
"Obergruppenführer Gerlinde gave her a sedative, which finally kicked in about half an hour ago. Did Oberstgruppenführer Heydrich catch you?"
"He did," I replied, crossing to where the RF was lying. There was still no sign of life apart from a very shallow rise and fall of his chest, and while I wasn't a healer, the readings on the monitors didn't look good.
"We've got it covered, sir."
"Then I'll grab some breakfast, and I'll be in my quarters, figuring out how to rejig the duty rosters, and how best to deal with things."
"Of course, sir."
And with a last look at the still form on the bed, I turned and headed out.
* * * * *
The duty rosters and planning took most of the morning, as I was changing things around from the usual rotation of two of us on duty at all times, with a six-hour shift every two days and the others available for advance party work, etc; to three of us with him at all times, and therefore each of us having to take a shift every day. Heinrike, myself and Kurt and Marius, once they were back on duty, I scheduled as being available if needed, but not specifically working his quarters.
It wasn't that his location was going to be difficult to defend that was the problem. It was more who we were likely to have to defend against. We'd only just finished cleaning house of Sigiswald and the Germanenorden, and the issue of the Machine was still an open one. Either remnants of the first, or as yet undiscovered agents of the second could easily choose to take advantage of his weakness. And that didn't even take into account possibilities of mayhem from the more ambitious members of the SS organisation. Not all the highest ranking officers were Knights, and therefore it was potentially more than just our own circle whose ambitions I needed to worry about.
Periodically, I wandered next door to check in, with Leon and Hans taking over from Ingrid and Kurt mid-morning, augmented by Juliana, who I'd informed of her change of shift at breakfast. Gerlinde was up and about again by then, and had checked in on his patient, but he hadn't chosen to share his opinions with them afterwards, and I knew I'd have to catch up with him myself. Once I was back in my rooms - the door out to the corridor open, so I could hear if they called, as my desk is in the front lounge area - I did have another go at calling Marja, but it seemed as if she'd taken a sick day. The timing seemed curious. Marja is dedicated to her job, and is very rarely absent except when she's actually on leave. I made a mental note to have someone check in with her, to make sure that nothing was amiss.
And then, about eleven thirty, there was a knock I looked up to see Jorge popping his head around the door.
"Morning, Rikart."
"Come in," I said, indicating for him to do that. What was most obvious as he walked through the door and sat down in one of the chairs was that he was in the uniform.
"You're supposed to be retired," I commented as I joined him.
"Yes, well...Tristan Heydrich thought it would be best to reactivate my commission from Honorary to Full for the duration. And from what he's said, I can understand why. Of course, Sod's Law decreed that just as I was ready to head out, Elanor would give me a call."
His wife was currently serving out her initial posting having graduated from Sable's Officer Training College at Sandhurst a couple of months before. They had been enduring a forced separation since then, as for some reason Sable didn't seem to want even an Honorary SS Oberstgruppenführer living in married quarters on a Sable military base. How surprising. So Jorge was supposed to be spending his time working as a teacher for the boss in his 'God of Protection' persona, at his own estate in Klieburg.
"I bet that didn't go down well."
"Like a lead balloon," he answered, with a sigh, "she's going to have words with me next time she's home on leave, I suspect...which might be a while. Apparently Sable has cancelled all leave."
Which is, of course, why the Sable authorities don't want him anywhere near her posting on, I believe, Ceredigion. They're madly in love, they have three exceedingly cute kids, and they talk. It has to be one of the oddest marriages on either side of the war...
"How much do you know?" I asked.
"Something happened last night, which has left the Reichsführer in a coma and unable to defend himself. Heydrich called me in so I could handle the arcane side, while you do the mundane."
"That pretty much sums it up. I'll take you next door and you can get to work. Are you going to be staying here in the castle, or coming in when needed?"
"I imagine he wouldn't have reactivated my commission if he was planning for me to head home, so presumably I'm staying here in the castle."
"Then talk to the Major Domo about getting some rooms once you're done."
We stood up and I took him next door to the boss's quarters. Frida had finally stirred and had apparently gone to get something to eat, as she wasn't present, and the children had been dispatched to the Kindergarten for the day, under the care of the Panenske Brezany nurses. I showed him the general situation, he paid his respects to the RF, and then he set to work.
I was going to keep an eye on his progress, when Juliana came in.
"Sir. Apparently there's a Roland Helgram waiting downstairs to see you."
The name was familiar, but it took a moment to click. The Pater Deorum of the Empire of Eboracum? What the Hell was he doing here?
"Where's he waiting?"
"In the Hagal Room."
"Any idea what he wants?"
"No sir...I'm just bringing the message."
"Thank you. Keep an eye here, would you?"
"Of course."
Muttering darkly under my breath I headed downstairs to the Hagal Room, one of the official public reception rooms in the castle. As I went in, I could see my guest standing over by the window, looking out. For some reason, the light seemed to be particularly flattering to him, especially as he turned towards me.
"Rikart Schultz, I believe," he said, offering his hand, "I've seen you before, but I don't believe we've ever been formally introduced."
I took his hand, shook it, then released it.
"Pater Deorum," I replied with a nod of the head, "how can I be of assistance?"
"I was rather hoping I might be able to help you," he replied.
"In what regard?"
"I'm concerned for a member of my Pantheon, who I understand is in your charge. I hope he's doing better than he was when I last saw him?"
"Which was?"
"When he was having a heart attack on the floor of Sable infirmary," he replied. He paused a moment, then obviously saw my expression and decided to elucidate, "as Pater Deorum of Aurellis, I am more in touch with our Power than anyone else, and it informs me if there's something I need to know. The God of Protection dying in Sable was such an instance. How is he?"
"Stable."
"Conscious?"
"Not as yet."
"Is there a prognosis?"
"Not that I want to discuss here," I replied, thinking how open the room was.
"Don't worry. I've decided it's unlikely that anyone can overhear our conversation."
There was something in his tone that meant I didn't doubt what he said, so I finally chose to reply.
"It isn't good."
"In what regard."
"Obergruppenführer Gerlinde believes he's in a coma which only time will heal."
"Do you believe him?"
"What I believe is irrelevant."
"Not when the health of one of my Pantheon is at stake."
I debated whether to say anything on the issue of the boss's shifting, but then decided against.
"Colonel Schultz," he continued, "have you heard of the Holy Guard?"
"I don't believe I have."
"They serve the same purpose for the gods of the Pantheon as you do for Rupert Delatz. Close protection, advance party work, etc. As God of Protection, he's entitled to their services."
I was going to say something, but he lifted his hand in a gesture to tell me to wait until he'd finished.
"I'm well aware that you do a good job in that regard. The question is, could you do with some temporary help?"
"How so?"
"Given the politics I suspect are lurking under the surface here, I imagine things are going to get difficult for you over the next few days...weeks...however long he might be out for. Do you think you have the manpower to cope, or would you like some additional assistance?"
"How would you see it working?"
"You'd be effectively drafted into the Holy Guard, and they'd be under your command."
"I've sworn an Oath to the Reichsführer. I'm not prepared to swear an Eboracum Oath that might contradict that."
"And you wouldn't be required to. The Holy Guard swear to serve the god they are assigned to and no other. You would obviously be assigned to the God of Protection."
I looked at him, and knew that while it was a tempting offer, I wasn't sure if I wanted to accept it.
"Can I think about it?"
"By all means...can I see him?"
I debated whether to argue, but decided against. After all, the boss was a member of Roland's Pantheon when wearing his Great Protector hat, and I knew that there were a lot of people in Eboracum who considered him their deity, so I was reasonably sure that the Pater Deorum meant the RF no harm.
"Of course. This way."
I took him upstairs to where Jorge was just finishing up his initial set of warding. The place felt safer already, and I could detect the signature I've come to associate with the Church of Protection. Roland Helgram and Jorge nodded politely to each other, and I stepped back towards the door, while the Pater Deorum crossed to the boss. Moments later, I could hear voices out in the lounge, and we were joined by the Herzogin, Tristan Heydrich and Gerlinde. Needless to say, they were surprised to see the Pater Deorum there.
"Explanation, Schultz?" Gerlinde asked, coldly.
"He's here to help," I replied.
"Perhaps a briefing on Rupert's condition would be in order, Obergruppenführer Gerlinde," the Pater Deorum said, looking at him.
"You aren't family. I have no obligation to keep you informed," he replied.
"But Herzogin Frida is."
"And if there's anything to be said, then I will say it to her."
Helgram shrugged, and returned his attention to the unconscious body on the bed.
"Dominik, just tell him," Frida said, quietly, "he's not going to leave until you do."
"If I have your permission..." he replied, "Schultz, perhaps you'd ask your associate to leave. After all, he doesn't need to hear this, and if you're here you have no cause for concern that I will do anything untoward."
I looked at him then nodded, and indicated for Leon to leave the room. Once he'd gone, Gerlinde proceeded to brief the assembled company. As he spoke, I noticed that he neglected to mention Robert of Sable's comments regarding the RF's shifting. Particularly as he disagreed with the assessment. But his flat refusal had bothered me earlier, and it bothered me even more now.
"And when do you envisage trying to reactivate his ability to shape shift?" Roland asked, looking directly at him.
"Once I believe he's strong enough that it won't kill him," Gerlinde replied, promptly.
It was too good an opportunity to pass up. I steeled myself for the storm, and spoke.
"Robert of Sable said that second most important thing we could do, after getting him back here, was to reactive it."
"And he knows damned well what I need to do to achieve that," Gerlinde snapped, "my assessment was and remains that it would make things worse."
"But he was very insistent," I replied, "and if he believes it's safe..."
He looked at me, a cold hatred in his eyes.
"He is not the attending physician here. I am."
"But could it be done?" Roland asked, from his vantage point.
"Not safely."
"What would make it safe?"
"If he had a spare heart, for when the first one inevitably packs up during the process," Gerlinde snapped, "what I do isn't subtle. It's dirty, it's painful and it stresses the body beyond belief. He's in no physical state to cope with that."
"But if he survived, it would help him?" the Herzogin asked, desperation in her voice, and I noticed that Heydrich was offering her a supportive shoulder to cry on.
"Yes...if he survived."
"Do it," she ordered, and for a moment her usual imperiousness was back.
"Excuse me?"
He looked genuinely startled.
"If it will help my husband, then do it," she repeated.
"There's a good chance it will cause another heart attack."
"But you said that could be avoided if he had a spare heart," Heydrich commented, and from his expression, Gerlinde's heart sank as he saw he was outnumbered.
"They don't exactly grow on trees..." he protested.
"You're the Head of the Forstapo," Frida snapped, "surely you can come up with something?"
"Or would you prefer it if I called my brother-in-law?" Roland said, innocently, and from the look in Gerlinde's eyes, I could see that he knew he was beaten. Mad as Hell. Resentful. But beaten.
"I can perform the procedure," he admitted, finally.
"Then please, Dominik...do your best," Frida answered, and she was back to being the caring, concerned wife.
"It's going to be messy."
"No doubt," Roland commented.
"And I'm going to need a steady supply of protein."
"I can arrange that for you," I offered.
"Tristan? Do you agree with this idiocy as well?"
"It's not my place to agree or disagree," Heydrich replied, with a shrug, "but if Frida wants you to try this, then she has the right. She is his next of kin."
"So be it," he answered, "but let the record show that this is being undertaken against my advice. Schultz, find me a source of protein."
"Yes, Obergruppenführer Gerlinde," I replied, and after calling Leon back into the room, I headed first for the infirmary and then to the kitchen. As I understood it, blood and red meat were what was needed, and I arranged for a supply of both.
When I returned to the RF's quarters about fifteen minutes later, I could tell that more heated words had been exchanged, as the atmosphere was even more tense than before.
"Everyone who isn't direct family...out," Gerlinde ordered, "Schultz, I have no doubt that you're going to insist on staying, whatever I say. However, make sure your people know not to disturb us, otherwise I refuse to be responsible for what happens."
"Of course, Obergruppenführer Gerlinde," I replied, and called up three more of the Guard, so we could form a decent perimeter. Then, once everything was ready, Heydrich agreed to stay in the lounge area, along with Jorge. However, Roland Helgram insisted on remaining in the bedroom with the Herzogin as Gerlinde worked. I took up a position inside the door, where I could keep an eye on proceedings, and finally Gerlinde indicated that he was ready.
The procedure took a couple of hours, and the supplies of protein were depleted by the time he was finished. I don't pretend to understand exactly what he did, but as far as I could tell, he grew another heart within the RF's chest, then transferred the circulation system such that it was using the new organ, in some bizarre parody of a normal heart bypass operation, before somehow dissolving the old, damaged heart back into the RF's body. And much as I hate to admit it, he was right in his pre-operative assessment, in that the RF did suffer another heart attack in the course of the procedure. But with the second heart in place, the effects were controlled. By the time he was finished - and exhausted with it - even I could see that the boss's colour was better, and he was breathing more normally.
"Satisfied?" he all but snarled, as he set up IV drips full of blood so that the RF could continue to receive additional protein to aid his recovery.
"Thank you, Dominik," Frida said, quietly, and she went over and kissed him on the cheek. He seemed startled, but let her do it, and then pulled out a chair for her so she could sit beside her husband.
"Herzogin," he said, with a slight bow, and then turned to the rest of us. He was positively grey.
"And now, you can do what the Hell you like. I'm going to get some sleep," he said, his tone heated, and without further ado, he stalked out of the room.
Roland glanced at me, as if he wanted to speak with me further, and after I'd made sure that the Herzogin was alright, and that the incoming Guards were fully briefed, I headed next door with him.
"You just made an enemy," he commented.
"I'm well aware of that," I replied.
"Why?"
"Because the boss's health is more important. I wasn't happy last night when he didn't follow Robert of Sable's advice...but I'm not a doctor."
"And yet you spoke up."
"Call me a coward, but I waited until someone else was there to hear what had been said, so that they could make an informed decision on what to do."
He looked at me and smiled.
"I think it highly unlikely that I'm going to call you a coward. Did you have a chance to think over what I said?"
"Yes. I'd like to accept."
"Wise. I'll talk to the head of the Holy Guard and see who can be assigned. Any idea of numbers?"
"Twelve - enough that my people aren't on duty all the time."
"Alright. How about shape shifters?"
"It would be better if there weren't any."
"Thinking about it, that's probably a good idea. I'll bear that in mind. I'll be in touch no later than tomorrow morning."
"If you can make it before 9am, then I would appreciate it."
"Why 9am?"
"There's a meeting I have to attend."
"Understood. Well, I'd best be going."
"Let me escort you down to the courtyard," I offered.
"Thank you," he replied, and we headed downstairs.
Then, once he was out in the courtyard and clear to do so, he got a Trump out of his pocket and disappeared. I stood in silence for a few minutes after he'd gone, enjoying the spring evening and the freshness of the air after the storm. It was probably the last few moments of peace I was going to get for quite a while. But then duty called, and I headed back inside to see how the boss was doing.