Chapter XLI: Princes and Princesses
December 23 1582
Entering the city had been easier than the Cardinal anticipated. Perhaps it was the fact that it was the boy at the lead of the horse that made his packed animal look inconspicuous. Even though the body of Zio had begun to let out a terrific stench, at least his red cloak hid his cadaverous corpse from the patrolling men’s eyes.
“They don’t bother with people coming into the city,” Alvaro had explained to him as they rounded several half-abandoned alleys of the town. “They say that we’re welcome to travel to Toledo but that any travelers going to Madrid will be stopped.”
The Cardinal said nothing more about the subject until they reached where Alvaro pointed his house to be. It was an interesting little place near the center of the town. Perhaps Alvaro’s father was a merchant or someone of influence since this particular domicile was better kept than the others around it. Nonetheless, the Cardinal chose where to hide the horse carrying the corpse with care before following the boy to the door.
“Mama, I’m home!” Alvaro called out exuberantly before skipping into the main chamber.
“Welcome home, darling!” a woman responded shuffling out from a rear room. She stopped dead, however, at having sighted the Cardinal obscuring nearly the entire doorframe.
“Excuse me for the intrusion,” Cardinal DeWitt said quietly as he made his way through the threshold and closed the door behind.
The richness of the house was further punctuated by the way the morning sun shone through glass—not wood—windows. Indeed, the Cardinal was almost surprised at how humble the child had been just an hour or so earlier when it was apparent now that his family was not the poorest here in the town.
“Who are you?” the mother said with obvious apprehension as she brought her son into the folds of her dress tightly. In the protective suffocation, she did not keep her eyes off of the person now inside her house.
“He’s a new friend I met while fishing this morning!” Alvaro explained with a smile looking up to his shocked mother’s face. “He says he’s a Cardinal too,” was the other response with a giggle.
At those words, the confused woman shot a glance at the hooded figure and followed the long right arm to his hand but blinked when she saw nothing there.
“If you’re looking for this Madame, I had to take it off to slip through the patrols,” the Cardinal anticipated her curiosity and held out a ring which shone with the fires of sunset in his other hand. It was his binding to the Pope; the proof of his seniority amongst the clergy of the Romans.
“Oohh, shiny!” Alvaro happily exclaimed nearly running off to inspect the item but his mother firmly held him close to her.
“Fetch us some milk and what’s left of the bread in the pantry, dear,” the mother instructed while keeping eye contact with her guest.
Alvaro gave a nod and scurried off behind the doorway furthest to the back of the main chamber. Taking a few steps forward, the woman bowed down graciously.
“Your Eminence,” she said reverently although with a slight tremor in her voice. “We had not expected a response so soon from Madrid… I am Madame de Guzman—but…”
As she stood up she attempted the impossibility of looking over the man’s shoulder at the shut door behind. “Where is my husband?”
Returning the woman’s concerned expression was the Cardinal’s steely resolution. “I’m afraid I haven’t come from Madrid, Madame. I have come from Toledo and need to get to Madrid as fast as possible.”
Madame de Guzman wrinkled her forehead in thought for a moment at that strange answer. No word from her husband again and she was beginning to get worried. “You must be the one they’ve been talking about…” she said with eyes widening. “Some kind of fugitive—”
“I assure you I am not, Madame,” The Cardinal quickly replied resisting an instinctual urge to move towards the lady. “I believe it is your local officials who are the ones we should be worrying about. I have come here to help.”
Eyeing the Cardinal, the woman seemed to relent. It was true that these new officials lately have been on the stranger side. Especially with the death of Father Carlos a few days after they arrived, it roused the suspicions in her. The rear door re-opened and out came Alvaro with a tray placing the meager food and drink on the table. Madame de Guzman looked towards her boy while in contemplation before turning back to the Cardinal and nodding slowly.
“Please have a seat, Your Eminence,” she said with a sigh of relief and led him to the table where the nourishments were placed. “Please tell me how we can be of any assistance.”
---
Jesca, styled Princess of Wales, but more commonly known as Lady Jesca was not really her real name. In fact, most people outside of the wealthiest merchant princes and highest ranking officials of this small mercenary troupe have even seen her face. Even in Japan, her operations and piracy there have been attributed to “Oujo” meaning princess. It was this woman and her band of companions who maintained the monopolies of several wealthy men of European descent working in the Empire of the Ming and Japan. Although for decades this endeavor had been difficult, the Spanish invasion made operations much more expedient and fruitful to have the Ming worry about other things.
The Headquarters of this heir presumptive of the English crown is in itself befitting the style of a Royal Highness of the Ming underworld. Situated in the relatively unimportant area of the Jiaozhou Bay, a complex system of interlocking ports and stacked houses spanning many square miles was where the Princess held court. Funded and supported by merchants all over the ports of China, this important nerve center of European greed was never challenged but simply tolerated by the local officials; if the merchants continued to invest here, let these insects continue to protect their masters, the gilded mandarins of Beijing had planned.
Thus, without interference, the structure had grown into an impressive sight to anyone who had the discerning eye of one who works in the intrigues of nations. Connected through tunnels and hallways between buildings and alleys either through the ground, suspended in the air, or through palisades on the water; the large area for training, living, housing supplies, amongst other things had become known by the Europeans as “Infinite Castle.”
Most of the rooms were indeed empty or occupied by the poorest of the poor, fishers, or riff raff that lends the place for shady dealings. In this inverted sense of regality, there were places of exquisite beauty and elegance, but only in reservation for the richest of the mercenaries of which Jesca was supreme.
“Welcome back, Lady Jesca,” a sniveling looking man greeted with a stretched face. The completeness of his grin denoted the satisfaction swirling in his impressive brain.
Underneath one of the docks, a small boat now wafted into a hidden alcove there and carried on itself several cloaked individuals. The one in the lead returned the call.
“Thank you, Peter,” Lady Jesca replied as she was helped up by her colleagues onto the hidden walkway underneath the dock complex. It was another entrance into the vastness of Infinite Castle. “I can tell by your happy mood that word of our success already reached you,” the woman added with a slight chuckle.
“This was an important one for you,” Peter nodded while still flashing his teeth madly. Lady Jesca and her entourage began moving into the staircases and hallways of their sanctum. Peter followed eagerly. “Our benefactors have been once again been justified in their wise choice to invest in your endeavors!” the man added while feigning a bow as they walked.
“You mean they’ve decided to finally pay me again? They always go through this every time,” Jesca returned before doors were opened before her and a lavish chamber of the finest Chinese silk and wood imported from Lebanon awaited the tired operatives. Aside from the riches, it was the locked chest in the center of the room which garnered the woman’s attention.
“Fifty pounds of silver as per our agreement,” Peter announced as he held out the key to Lady Jesca.
“Our agreement was seventy five pounds,” Jesca corrected as she turned towards him. The smile that permeated Peter’s face persisted arrogantly.
“The Committee has decided that you would not mind. You don’t need the extra twenty five pounds.” Peter chuckled while opening his eyes enough to glare through his grin.
All heads although scattered across the chamber were now focused at the two near the entrance of the room. Jesca stared down that grin for a few seconds before angrily taking the keys, turning about and ordering her men to take the box away. Peter’s eyes receded into that stretched smile. That was when Jesca nodded in the other direction and two men took Peter by each arm, but the man did not flinch.
“Now now, Jesca, you know the rules. You can’t kill me; I’m just a messenger,” Peter cockily hissed through his grin.
“Do you know what we’re up against, Peter?” Jesca asked softly as she approached a chair near the middle table. “the House of the Rose on one side; the Spanish nets on the other; and people like the Ming’s Sio-pan who wants to shut us down despite the cooler heads in Beijing.”
Peter said nothing at the reiteration of all known facts.
“And do you know what people like Sio-pan do when they can’t get what they want?” Jesca added looking squarely at the accosted messenger. “I guess you don’t. In that case I’ll have to demonstrate…”
Jesca turned to some of the other faces in the room. “Start with his fingers and keep cutting parts of him off until he’s twenty five pounds lighter.”
Peter’s grin turned into a maddening grimace. “You can’t do tha—”
“I’m sure the committee ‘won’t mind’,” Jesca taunted him, “after all, ‘you don’t need the extra twenty five pounds’ to be a messenger just like I don’t need the twenty five pounds to be your spy master, am I right?” Peter began to struggle against the laughing men as they started to pull him towards the doorway.
“That’s enough!” was a fatigued call from another entrance. An older gentleman flanked by two tall Europeans entered the court of Princess Jesca. “You will forgive our emissary, he’s new to the job. He will procure for you the rest of our agreed sum.”
Jesca’s henchmen in the room immediately stood up. “Mister Anard,” Jesca announced recognizing the man. It was not often that they were visited by a member of the Committee in person.
“For decades now this branch of our guild has been working for our economic monopoly in this area,” Anard told them with the same air as any old man might take when recounting a lifelong experience. “It is finally time for a change,” he punctuated and then allowing a small pause to occur in the middle of his announcement. “The Spanish are here and have begun assuming command of the economic atmosphere in the Ming Empire and they have contacted the Guild to form a mutually beneficial partnership. The Committee has decided to support their endeavors with this branch of our operations in order to secure economic preference in the future.”
Jesca watched the old man carefully and recalled the recent reports of the disasters plaguing the Spanish spy network including the loss of their spy master. It made sense; Jesca thought to herself, her group knows the land very well and has connections with the populations dating back decades. They could work more efficiently than any foreign agency.
“I expect we’ll be paid handsomely for this,” Jesca asked nonchalantly to voice everyone’s thoughts.
Mr. Anard wrinkled his old face into a smile and said, “After all these years, you haven’t really changed at all.”
---
“And what are they doing now?” the man sitting at the desk asked.
“The two I sent to trail him and the boy say that they went to the boy’s house and have been there for a while now. A few others have entered the building and it seems they’re all talking within,” the man by the window replied.
“You should relax, Mr. Mayor,” the man behind the desk soothed cooly although the words came out with the kind of purr a vicious tiger might make. “Zio and I did not put you in this position just to forgot about you.”
The Mayor only looked back towards the shaded figure with little comfort before gazing back out the window at the sleepy little town he now controlled. It had been a few days since he and his administration were ushered into power by the man at the desk and by the other councilman Zio. He was very grateful to the council, but he could not help but feel apprehensive.
“I’m not so sure it was a good idea letting him into the town like we did,” the Mayor began to say, “They say that with his custom red suit he’s three times faster than a regular soldier…”
The Mayor nearly jumped when he felt a cold hand take his shoulder. “You need not worry,” the man soothed a chilly breath against his ear. “Through our partnership, before the day is out tomorrow, the Red Cardinal will be dead and the Timepiece will be ours.”
“And then the world will change,” the Mayor added with a hushed reverence at the very thought of it.
“I’ve searched through each one of the Black Boxes that were installed in the past twelve months on our systems,” the lieutenant began his briefing. “I found nothing out of the ordinary in any of them. If it was a design flaw it was either a very selective one or someone deliberately misled the transport Black Box from the get go in order to get the nuke.”
General Novaposhyn sipped his coffee as he listened to the report. No doubt the bomb was out of the region bye now and somehow masked from the radiological sensors.
“And what about Schwarzschild Industries?” the General asked calmly.
“The American branch has already raided their buildings and froze their assets, sir, but we have not been able to find any evidence that they may have the nuke except that their CEO and chief secretary are missing…”
More bad news, General Novaposhyn thought to himself. “Thank you lieutenant, that’s all.”
As the lieutenant left the General’s office deep in that underground facility, a flash of liquid crystals displayed the latest in world happenings.
“News reports indicate how radiological tests have shown Negative for any bomb planted in the city,” he heard the newswoman report. “Similarly, authorities believe that this had been a hoax and are currently investigating into the Zio figure who managed to broadcast his message on various frequencies.”
The General shut off the screen again and sighed back in his seat. No sleep yet for him, but at least the media is calming peoples’ fears. This would give his men more time to find out the whereabouts of the real threat.
---
Tom rubbed his eyes tiredly. Although the private jets that cross the Pacific take less than half as much time as they used to due to the prevalence of supersonic hydrogen technology produced for important journeys such as this, it only meant that he had not had the opportunity to sleep on the plane. The only thing fighting the jet lag was the presence of the young man across from him on the limousine.
The Crown Prince was not exactly what he imagined, but then again he never once thought about the Japanese dynasty much outside of his studious tinkering with earth’s history. Hayato-kun as Rodrigo, calls him familiarly was two years younger than they were.
“We had met during one of my dad’s conferences over here,” Rodrigo explained before they had met His Imperial Highness at the lounge in the airport. “But you shouldn’t be afraid of him; he’s a pretty laid back guy once you get to know him.”
For the most part, Tom should have expected as much. The Imperial House in Japan was not exactly as its name implies. Technically, as usual, the Emperor in Spain was the Primus inter Pares amongst all the Emperors in the world—or so it was on paper. In practice, the Imperial Household of Japan was simply there to encourage paternalistic tendencies and loyalty. Plus, it was true that this line of princes of Japan were not even descended from the Imperial House which had been the longest running hereditary monarchy in the world.
“Succession Crisis,” was what went through his mind as he recalled these facts. “No male heirs.” Apparently a cadet branch of the family took over and, with the Emperor of the Romans consenting; they were instated as sovereign-stewards—a fancy name for a hereditary Viceroyalty—of the islands of Japan. Tom only remembered how the main branch was quietly pushed aside as the preference of the Emperor in the West was made, though he perhaps could not blame them after having seen their homeland solidified into Western rule during the Great War. He even wrote about them in his writings, he mused: The Heisei Emperor and the great leap forwards Japan would make before stalling during the beginning of the new millennium.
“You must be tired from your trip,” the Crown Prince addressed Tom who managed a weak but respectful smile and nod.
“Rodrigo seems to have a penchant for dragging us all over the place,” Tom replied attempting to ease the awkward silence.
The silence could not be helped. Rodrigo was busy typing into his laptop and both Carlos and Lara were asleep on the various cushions inside the limo. Through the tired eyes of Tom, the Crown Prince was, in contrast, almost bubbly and restless. His spiked hair and teasing smile seemed to make up for all the lost energy in the rest of the vehicle.
“Don’t worry, we’ll be dropping you guys off at the mansion before Rodrigo and I head out to the Prefectural Center,” Hayato consoled in perfect Spanish.
“What will you two do over there?” Tom asked curiously attempting to stay awake.
“There was a witness to Mr. McDonald’s murder, apparently. We’re going to go visit her.”
“A witness?”
“Yes, she’s the daughter of the owner of the hotel where your publisher was staying. She’s about thirty five as I recall and she’s been in protective custody ever since we found out the secretary of Mr. McDonald was killed also. We’ll be questioning her about what she saw that night.”
Tom looked downward onto the carpeted floor of the limousine and rubbed his head slightly attempting to wring out thought from his brain. When the car began to slow down, Tom noticed a beautifully lit estate laid out in the western style. Hayato was not kidding when he said there would be a mansion waiting for them.
“I look forward to working with you in this new partnership, Tom Royce,” the Crown Prince said as the car began to come to a halt.
“Thank you Hayato-sama,” Tom replied most reverently with a weak smile.
As the three sleepy ones exited the vehicle, bid their farewells to Rodrigo, and were escorted into the mansion, Rodrigo’s notebook finally went shut when Hayato and himself were alone in the car. The limousine began to move off once more.
“What has she said in the preliminary reports?” Rodrigo asked quietly.
“Your assumptions about the missing nuke were right; she mentioned that before they killed McDonald the thugs said that even without the keys they’ll be able to activate the Timepiece.”
Rodrigo sighed and leaned back in his leather seat allowing the fatigue to finally overshadow him. The nuke was indeed headed on a collision course with the Timepiece…
“It’s been five years since my father began sending me to training,” Hayato said softly towards his companion. “I never thought you and I would really have to take up this Guardianship thing…”
Rodrigo looked to his friend with sympathetic eyes. “I know, old friend, I never thought this would come during our lifetime either…”
“Does that mean I have to be formal and call you Janus now?” Hayato chuckled.
It elicited a faint smile from Rodrigo before he said, “Not unless you want me to start calling you Matsujun.”
Chapter XLII: Partners (coming soon)
Although I don't know what Anon's problem with sheep is, I mean there so fuzzy and cuddly and...well, err...enough delving into the lifestyles of the Rich and Gaelic. 
