Secrets of the New World (Infini Calendar) (Volume 2) (8 page)

***

“Farahilde Johanna has escaped!” Vice-Commander Emil announced as he rushed into the bridge.

Commander Deschanel was sitting in the captain’s chair. She had expected as much. She hadn’t counted on the vile Austrian woman being held in the brig for long. She only had her put in that cell to keep up appearances. The truth was, Deschanel would much rather have killed her personally than suffer her continued presence on board the
Minuit Solaire II
. “No matter,” she said.

“But she attacked us,” he protested. “Shouldn’t we go back and—”

She cut him off. “And what? Recapture her by force? You know full well the Emperor gave us explicit orders not to attack the Austrians openly. We’d risk starting a war. France’s resources are already severely drained from the Alset Project. Besides—our present mission is far more important than some Austrian
chienne
. And you never know; we might meet her again in the new world.”
I hope you
do
make it to America, Farahilde Johanna. You’re only second on my list of people to kill. If I get a chance, you can bet I’ll have my revenge. Of course, I can’t forget about my primary target, the one who destroyed my life. I might just kill
you
anywhere, regardless of witnesses. That is how deep my hatred burns.

She rubbed the area under her eye patch. The thing was uncomfortable to wear, and physically she had no need to wear it in the first place. However, there were far greater factors fueling her hatred. And when she got to the United States she fully intended to deal with those.

***

The Istanbul Strait, November 11, 1792 (Infini Calendar), 5:40 p.m.

As they ate dinner within the hold of the
Hapsburg Pride
, Farahilde related to her brother and Frederick what had occurred aboard the
Minuit Solaire II
. The Austrian ship was once again back on course after salvaging the proper parts from the pirate vessels. However, these parts were inferior to the ones they had been using, and so they wouldn’t be able to get to Washington nearly as quickly as they had planned.

“So the members of the Ordre de la Tradition on board that airship are not the ones you remember?” he asked. He sat across from Farahilde at a small table in the dining cabin. The ship swayed and creaked as they ate, and the sound of waves crashing against the boat filled in any moments of awkward silence that arose.

“I recognized one of them: the head engineer who was with us when we stormed Paris two years ago. Practically still a child, but brilliant with machines. She told me their commander is an imposter chosen to fill a symbolic role in France. Where the real Jeanne de Fleur is, I have no idea.”

“So she’s a puppet,” Leopold observed.

“Nothing but a lying bitch dressed up in the colors of a real warrior,” she scoffed.

“Sister, what have I told you about using vulgar language?”

She sighed and began mockingly paraphrasing a creed that had been drilled into her for years. “I am a representative of the great house of Hapsburg and as such I must observe proper decorum in order to maintain our family’s reputation and set the proper example for future generations.”

Leopold nodded, albeit with annoyance. “That is correct. Some day you and Frederick shall produce children who will be the future of both Austria and Prussia. They will need a suitable upbringing and it will be your responsibility to give it to them.”

At Leopold’s prophetic words, Farahilde and Frederick—who were sitting on the same side of the table—looked at each other. She couldn’t imagine ever having sex with him, much less starting a family with him. Furthermore, he looked just as surprised as she; his face was turning red.

“Well, uh…” he started, clearly trying to find the words to respond to his sudden embarrassment. “I wonder what it’s like for her.”

“For who?” Farahilde asked.

“That woman you were talking about, the one who has to live her life pretending to be someone else.”

“Huh? How the hell should I know?”

“Language, sister!”

Frederick continued speaking. It was doubtful he wanted to get back to the previous conversation. “If it were me, I think I would hate it if I was suddenly forced to pose as someone else. Most people want to have their own identity.”

Rolling her eyes, Farahilde said, “Is that another lesson from your father?”

“No. Just an observation. People generally want their own accomplishments and accolades. If you can only have someone else’s…” He paused for a moment. He then added somberly, “Well, I think that would be very difficult to accept.”

“Hmph. You’d never see me being anyone but myself.”

Frederick smiled at that statement. “I don’t doubt it.”

“I, for one, often wished you
would
become someone else,” Leopold sneered.

***

The
Hapsburg Pride
made it through the Istanbul Strait, and then travelled west through the Sea of Marmara into the Aegean Sea. From there they went south into the Mediterranean, from which they headed west, eventually hitting the Atlantic. From there it was a straight shot to the United States’ east coast.

***

Washington Port, United States, December 11, 1792 (Infini Calendar), 7:00 p.m.

The
Hapsburg Pride
docked at the port of the American capital of Washington. They had travelled up a body of water which Farahilde had been told was called Chesapeake Bay, into a river called the Potomac. The Potomac apparently ran through the city. As it was winter in America, the sun had long since set and it was very cold out. Everyone on board was now wearing coats.

After leaving the Istanbul Strait, Leopold had insisted on drilling everything he knew about the city into Farahilde’s head.

After the Americans defeated the British following their revolution, they decided they needed a neutral area to serve as the nation’s capital. Two states within the country, Virginia and Maryland, donated land for this purpose. President George Washington chose the exact land to make up the boundaries of the capital which would be named after him. Farahilde personally thought that was the height of egotism, but Leopold insisted it wasn’t the President’s idea. Rather, the people adored him for helping to win the revolution and wanted to pay tribute to him. To Farahilde, he still sounded too much like the past couple rulers of France.

The city was built on the northern shore of the Potomac. Each side of Washington was about sixteen kilometers in length and the city’s borders formed a diamond shape with the Potomac running along the south, east and west sides. The area was originally a forest, but much of that had since been cleared to make room for the city proper. However, the Potomac still had a reputation for being a filthy cesspit. Farahilde made a mental note to not drink the water.

           From what she could observe from the deck of the ship, Washington looked almost as modern as Paris. Large buildings loomed in the distance and just about every one of them was lit up.

As the ship went along the northern bank of the Potomac, though, she noticed what appeared to be a small village overlooking the river. The settlement—if that was what it was—was made up of crude wooden houses which stood in stark contrast to the rest of the city. Furthermore, there were numerous red lanterns which hung on every house and on a number of trees as well. The inhabitants were dressed strangely as well; almost all of them wore what looked to Farahilde like full-length robes, and some of them had what she could have sworn were long needles holding up their hair.

“What do you suppose is wrong with them?” she asked Frederick who stood next to her on the starboard side.

“I suppose that’s just their custom,” he shrugged.

“I’ve never seen anyone like them.”

“They might say the same about us.”

“I guess,” she said. “Although, I thought they were supposed to be related to the English. They don’t look anything like the English.”

He laughed, “Perhaps they even rebelled against English fashion.”

She shared the laugh. “At least they’re not wearing those stupid wigs.”

A voice behind her said angrily, “And what’s wrong with those wigs?”

She turned around. Leopold was standing there. “Plenty,” she replied.

He just shook his head and rolled his eyes. “We’re going to disembark soon. Get ready.” He then left to attend to other things.

They soon docked at a pier along the river, a kilometer from the strange settlement they had been observing. Leopold disembarked with a contingent of his guards, a few of which were carrying the trunk containing the mysterious artifact requested by the president of the United States. Farahilde and Frederick followed a short distance behind. They, too, were flanked by guards, though only a handful compared to the large group escorting their emperor.

In front of the docks on the right was a two-story wooden building, apparently the customs office. As they walked passed it, Farahilde noticed the people coming in and out of it were wearing very different clothing than the strange people of the earlier settlement. Their attire was much closer to what she had expected the Americans to wear.

“What the hell is going on with this place?” she wondered aloud.

“Maybe those earlier people are actually the indigenous peoples of this land, the ones they call Indians,” Frederick suggested.

“Hmmm, that makes sense, I guess.”

Suddenly a teenage boy came running out of the customs office. He surveyed the group of Austrians and then looked at a piece of paper he was holding. “Fa…Fara…hild….Jo…ha-na?” he called out to no one in particular. Leopold didn’t seem to hear; he just kept walking.

Farahilde, confused, walked up to the boy. The guards hovered cautiously around her in case he tried anything funny. “I…am…Farahilde,” she said in the best English she could muster.

He handed her the card he was holding. Sure enough, it had her name on it. She unfolded it and was surprised to find a message written mostly in French:

Don’t cause any trouble, fräulein
.

“That bitch Deschanel!” she growled, although she made sure to keep it low enough so the guards didn’t hear. “She must have gotten here already. Who does she think she is to boss me around in someone else’s country? I’ll gut her!”

“Are you sure it’s from her,” Frederick asked. He looked over her shoulder at the card.

“I may not be the most loved person on earth, but at least I can say I haven’t made any enemies in
this
country yet. That imposter Deschanel is the only person who would have reason to be hostile to me here—not including my brother. And look,” she said, pointing to the last word on the card. “She even added
fräulein
. That’s what I used to call Jeanne de Fleur.”

“Well, after what you did on her airship, she has sufficient reason to dislike you.”

“She had it coming,” she insisted. “Besides; she’s French. That’s the only reason she needs.”

“Hurry up!” Leopold called from up ahead. “They’re expecting us at the President’s home.”

***

They were met by a steam carriage which had been sent by the President to escort them to his home, a building called the President’s Palace. From her seat in the carriage, Farahilde was able to observe numerous aspects of Washington. The city, despite its youth, was bustling with activity. In addition to the very different styles of clothing she had already seen, there were, in fact, a multitude of others. She had never seen such contrasts of fashion before.