F E S T I N A • L E N T E
Searing 33, 122 Age of Steel
Three o' clock in the afternoon
Twenty hours before the Doom of Zaichaer
Twenty hours before the Doom of Zaichaer
It was a quiet Wraedas, Anton had already finished his classes for the day and the lab had closed early due to inexplicable supply shortages. Evidently half of the warehouses in the city had been bought out by some magnate making moves that were still inexplicable to the city's businessmen. Regardless, not wanting to waste a half day and with his social calendar still quite empty in the wake of Kane's fall - one couldn't be too careful after all - the lord had elected to simply return to the manor.
His father and uncle were out in the depths of the Wild-King's Forge, along with the bulk of the army, as part of the dance of maneuver and counter-maneuver between the forces of Zaichaer and Kalzasi that the war had devolved into. With both Franz and Josef in the field, that nominally made the young Anton the acting patriarch of the Michaelis.
In practice it meant his grandmother, mother, and aunt had colluded to have him watch over both his siblings and his cousins, a task that future Duke took to with more spirit than one might expect. With the women of the family leaving them be, the children were left to fend for themselves. Well. Themselves, and Anton's constant companion. Whatever reservations his family had held about Vanessa had cooled over the past months, in no small part because she had managed to keep him alive, out of sight, and little mentioned in the wake of Kelgarde's coup.
But frankly, the majority of it was because it was recognized that whether she liked it or not, Anton was forging her into someone almost respectable. Which at that moment meant continuing her education in her letters - a task that the older woman was forced to share along with the children. He did like to keep things interesting however, and after the initial children's stories had moved on to newspapers.
His favorite, by far, was the Knob Free Press. Written for workmen coming off of a long shift at the Grungeworks, the newly literate working class of Zaichaer having been taught the skill in order to read the measures and gauges of their machines only to later realize it could be used for leisure, the writing was simple and direct - even if it at times it trended to the absurd. Really, how could one possibly believe the drivel they printed about the so-called Black Wedding? Skimming the lead article before reading it aloud to the makeshift class, Anton's heart fell in his chest. The song that the ink sung was one of danger and death, a sinister air that demanded attention.
"Vanessa," he said shakily, trying to keep his composure. "I think the heat is becoming a bit too much, don't you? A vacation to the estate sounds nice. A spontaneous getaway, yes, just the thing."
