Act 1 - Chapter 2
I, Claude II
143 APC (After Pickelhaube Conquest)
In Transit, Free City of Labalette, The Surface World
Without saying or doing much at all, Claude found himself riding in a carriage. His uncle's secretary, Maria, had quickly led (dragged) him out of the Tavern, and Claude was too distracted to make much protest or to do anything about Andre. While it seemed callous of him to leave his half-brother behind, he knew Andre well and knew to respect his independence and autonomy - or at least this would be his justification later on when sober, and realising that he had no idea what happened to him. Maria didn't seem to care either way, and was only there for Claude.
Within the carriage, starring out into the city of Labalette, Claude in a daze mostly saw blurry figures, gas-lights far brighter than normal and the many different buildings of the different districts of the city they passed through. Westgate District with its numerous clothing shops and food markets, the Temple District with its differing religious establishments for not only Jove but other deities of the Jovian Pantheon, then the Docklands.
The Docklands were the next district over from the Trade District, and even in his drunken state Claude knew to pay as close attention as he could to the sights. He could still recognise the ships. Old galleons. Galeas and Fluyts. Clippers and Tea Clippers. Even a few Ships of the Line, some of them still damaged from the currently ceased war against the Pickelhaube Empire. Mixed amongst the Tea Clippers is likely the very vessel his Uncle will use to sail to Agartha in. Perhaps if he were not drunk, he would be able to accurately guess which ship it were, but for now he could only assume it were 'one of them surely'.
And then they were here, in the Trade District. Despite its name, the Trade District was less the stereotypical bazaar of small shops and street sellers more common in districts like Westgate and Neugate, and instead the location for various company headquarters, warehouses, exchanges and large scale artisan/manufacturing plants that were once smaller shops that greatly increased in size with the addition of handsome investments. Here, was the relatively stately appearing company office of the New Agartha Trading Company.
The carriage stopped. The door opened by the driver, and Maria exited with his assistance, followed by Claude awkwardly stumbling out after her. There, in front of the office building made of stone, with sculptures and classical pillars, the secretary quickly did her best to make Claude appear slightly more presentable that the inebriated wreck he currently was. Claude, still somewhat aware at least while the woman was trying to correct his coat, looked down to check if his sword had not been pilfered while drinking in the tavern. Luckily, he saw attached to his waist...
[ ] His trusty Small sword; the Colette Dynasty made sure that even a token member of the family was granted a court sword on his fourteenth birthday.
[ ] His Rapier; Andre's influence really, what with his occasional attempts to improve Claude's duelling ability. Sometimes he worried though it made him look like a highwayman.
[ ] A Duellist Sabre; possibly the only gift Claude's father ever gave him, which he gave him after Claude almost died while travelling with his father.
[ ] one Cavalry Heavy Backsword; Somewhat odd for someone as mild and gentlemanly as Claude to be carrying around such an intimidating sabre, but Claude has it as a constant reminder of the time he was almost sent to fight in the Six Years War.
Claude also searched some time for his firearm, until he remembered he did not actually have one on him to begin with, having left it at his hotel room.
Unsatisfied but unwilling to continue, the secretary huffed and ordered him to follow her into the building. After being carefully man-handled by the secretary through hallways and corridors of urns, exotic plants, stuffed animal heads and paintings, they found themselves at his uncle's office.
'Well! bring him in!' The familiar excessively jolly fat man booming voice of him uncle declared.
Almost immediately, Uncle Ganzio moved forward and partly hugged him, then patted him on the back of the shoulder. It was his usual greetings, but Claude was not exactly a man of great strength, so it was usually an uncomfortable experience. Still, his uncle could easily tell that Claude was drunk.
'Ah, so it looks like Maria was a bit late, well, so be it! We'll just get this out now and... and, ah.' He turned to Maria then with an absent hand wave towards her 'Get to transcribing or some such, we'll have my boy here a letter that he can read when he wakes up in the morrow and know that this talk happened'.
Ganzio then contemplated something then, as Claude finally sat down in an oversized Rococo chair. 'Oh and Maria, get my boy here some coffee... probably a lot of it'. Maria stood there, frozen, trying to decide if she should start writing or go and make coffee. Ganzio then turned back to Claude, and the secretary's dilemma left his mind.
'Well my boy, we have done it. Prince Amati has given us the funding we need for the expedition, and the company even brought down a beautiful tea-clipper, the Mare Nostrum. The ship is possibly the largest Tea Clipper I have ever seen, I'll show it to you tomorrow if you care to see her, but it doesn't matter either way, because you will be on that ship seven days from now...
'Seven days!?' Claude, even in his drunk state, knew this gave him... nearly no time at all to prepare.
'Aye! See, your uncle Ganzio here has been a little sneaky and had to add you to the crew at the last minute, else the company change their mind later. Can't have Granz interfering anymore than he already has...'
'And - and... I possibly do in seven days?' Claude asked in astonishment that his uncle was serious.
'You're a smart kid, and I heard you made quite a bit of money while in Eirbornea, translating that treaty with the Spikies aside. The Eibish use
bills of exchange don't they? So you should have your banknotes on you, not just coin. If so, then you should have more than enough to acquire provisions in this city, at least within a week.
[ ] Mumble confirmation about the bills.
[ ] Mumble something about physical inventory and goods instead of bills
[ ] Mumble something about gold and coins instead of bills
[ ] Just mumble something.
'Hm, what was that! Well it doesn't matter!' I want you to buy whatever it is you can buy. We also have some space leftover in the Mare Nostrum's cargo, despite Granz constantly complaining about not having any - so if you want to buy some last minute trade goods to bring along, we have... maybe 40 tonnes left of cargo space? Ah good, Maria! You're back, give Claude the coffee and get to writing presto!'
'Yes, sir'. Maria said, quickly pouring a cup of coffee for Claude and Ganzio, before writing down notes of their conversation as well as the details concerning the planned expedition.
'As I was saying, most of the trade goods in cargo are textiles, furs, cotton, Turpentine and fruits... also some alchemical supplies I think, but, if you want to bring something else I am fine with it, just keep it under 40 tonnes'. Ganzio then closed his eyes and bobbed his head up in down, a common practice Claude recognised when he was pleased with himself - this time for his great generosity, he assumed.
'Anyhoo, we have been instructed by the company to set up a trade post once we reach Agartha properly, though since we are entering the underworld from a direction never travelled before, we have no idea which bug country down there we will actually meet or if we have even met them, so I guess it will just be whichever bugs we first see, who knows... and well, this is where you come in my boy. I need that clever talent with linguistics to help me get this damn trade post deal paved through.'
'I... I can talk to bugs' Claude slurred.
'Aye boy, I know'. Ganzio laughed, feeling somewhat silly talking to someone not really in the right state to have such a detailed conversation... but Uncle Ganzio was no quitter, and he'd keep doing something no matter how futile or meaningless, until it killed him.
'Well, I best let you off now, and get Maria to get you back to your hotel and such... oh right, one last thing. Those stupid university folks that Prince Amati demanded we bring. I'll need your help to make sure they don't get themselves or us killed, who knows what those pencil-pushing ivory tower types will try while we are down there'.
Claude then stood up, was provided the letter of notes written down by Maria (who had even replicated the note for themselves as well), and then shook hands with his uncle.
'So Claude my boy, do you undestand? Remember. 7 days, get your provisions and things in order. 40 tonnes of goods and no more, and we need that trade post open no matter the fucking cost, or the Company will have my head'.
[ ] I - I understand Uncle, I will not... not let you down.
[ ] Mumble something about bugs.
With that, Claude de Pollen left for his hotel and a horrible hangover the next day, carrying the letter of details informing him of his imminent future.
