CHAPTER 2 - A NEW WORLD
Chapter 2.1 - Storytime 4
My friends, my friends. So good to see you again. Is it not delightful that you can sit here placidly, amid the noise and haste that lurks outside, and appreciate the joy of silence? We are all on such good terms now, I can speak my truths so quietly, and we can listen to the stories of even the dullest and most ignorant. We have no need for the tumult or the tempest, vexatious to the spirit. Also no need for you to compare yourselves to one another, and all the bitterness that brings. You are all my audience. Do not worry that you seem less than me, for by coming here you have achievement fulfilment - something to treasure as time flows.
Let us cast our attention to a man, who knows of all the world’s trickery and yet who is thought to stand above it all, a hero of another age. He is always himself, nothing more, nothing less. He is facing the twilight of his years, with a grace many will never muster. And he holds within himself a strength of spirit that even now is his command, at this most vital moment. What dark imaginings, in his lonely fatigue, he must have had - and he remains firm of wholesome discipline. He has a right to be here. And he thinks he knows what he must do.
The sound has faded - echoed into nothingness in this hall. Many eyes face him. None are here by accident. He draws a deep breath. The soldiers on guard are hand-picked, and are no mere ornament. He begins
“In common with many of you I had hopes of this new government, and of how it might restore our nation. Events of the last few months, however, have tarnished these hopes - and even more recently I have received news, that I shall relate, that have trampled them completely. Gentleman, officers of the army, we are the bastion of the state, and we must do everything within our power to preserve it from the greatest threat it has ever faced…”
Well, we don’t need to listen to him too much. Let us move forward a few hours, to a place not very far away.
“How did it go?” Four asks.
“He was cheered - they all were with him. There is much planning going on.”
“And the article?”
“It will be published. The censor will have made an error, dazzled by the eminence of the writer. By the time the fools in Berlin realise what is happening it will be too late.”
“Protection?”
“Servitor-soldiers near him at all times, with reinforcements nearby. Especially at night.” Four knows all this of course, but the risk is making him nervous.
“Jakob - you have done well, but so far this has been an easy job. Henceforth it will get harder. Now go.”
Some minutes after the underling departed there is a swirl of air through the window, and Three steps out from behind the curtain. “It has started,” he exhales.
Four only nods, making no other reaction to Three’s appearance.
“You trust Jakob too much,” the newcomer rasps after a while.
“I trust him not at all, but I rely on his sense of self-preservation. For the moment. Recall, I am expecting you to tell me when it starts to fail.”
“You trust me too much,” Three rasps.
“I need you,” Four corrects, “if I am to orchestrate what we want. Iberia is a powderkeg. In the New World it will not take much prodding for results. Even France, fractured as it is, can be swayed. Here we - which means I - am forced to be direct. Far too direct.”
“I have news from Cipango.” Three says.
Four stops, and turns to voice his companion. “Oh?” he asks, in some surprise.
“The Sun Court appears divided - it is said the Throne is broken - and their strange clans battle nightly.”
“I am not a student of the East,” Four admits after a moment. “Please explain.”
“We only know one other occasion when the Sun Throne was broken, and that happened in 1860.”
Four thinks a moment, and recalls. “I see,” he says, and he thinks some more. “If it proves so that might be somewhat too convenient.”
“My point. We two are busy in Europe. If one of our number had the influence to so alter an Oriental Court, it was undeclared to the rest of us.”
Suddenly, swiftly, Four moves to the side of the window. He looks at his companion. “We should leave.”
Let us go to a final place tonight, a few days’ later.
A fine townhouse, but one that carries its own hidden secrets. A cab pulls up, and out emerges an tall, stern looking gentleman. He squints in the too-bright noon, and pays the driver a tip. He sighs as he considers the steps up the door, and then mounts them with a determined vigour. At the top he pauses, breathing heavily, before beating the door with his stick to announce his presence.
Inside he hands his coat and hat to a new acolyte. The young woman - he frowns at that - looks like a child, but probably should be wedded by now. Another acolyte, older and comfortingly male, conducts him to the outer sanctum.
“Thank you for coming so swiftly, Master Adalbert,” his host announces.
“Yes yes, Gerhard. What is it?”
“You know about von Mackensen’s speech?”
“I do keep abreast of current events.”
“I had an agent present, who had one of my devices. He took this,” and Gerhard handed over a developed film.
Adalbert lifts up the image. He mutters a few words and the air in front of his eyes seems to twist, shifting the light the way a lens might. Gerhard tightens his teeth at this breach of etiquette, but holds his peace.
Adalbert studies the photograph. Despite himself he is impressed - and it is clear why his junior beseeched him to visit. Under the guise of a waiter someone was not exactly what they had appeared to be. Not with that aura, captured by the enchanted camera.
“Do you know what he is?” he asks.
Gerhard shakes his head. “No. I had hoped you might be able to tell me.”
“Your contraptions have come a long way, but this is not clear enough for a fine reading. Not a non-human - a full Fae or wraith or the like. Beyond that I cannot tell.” He passes the picture back, and with a muttered word dispels his construct of air. “What does your agent know?”
“He thinks a journalist paid him for details for an article. He has no understanding of the true nature of his task.”
“Excellent. We must summon a Council. Someone is moving and we must know who, and if it is against us.” Adalbert peers at the younger man. “You have done well. I will tell the Council so.”
Gerhard seems to straighten, “Please, feel free to make use of my sanctum,” he says with a wave of his hand.
Adalbert casts a look around. Too modern for his taste, but safer to do this task here than use his own.
And that’s enough, I think you will agree. More than enough. It is time, my friends, to rest. 
The mechanics and reasons behind that play may be mysterious and opaque, but the essence seems simple enough: it is all a power play between creatures for whom power appears to be the only currency and the objective of their existence. (I carefully avoided say life, because it isn’t really, is it?)
