Setting
In one of these coaches sat the leader of the expedition, accompanied by the language expert, the anthropologist, and a man of the Catholic Church. In the other was the Engineer and his foreman, accompanied by the pair of women lucky, or unlucky, enough to have joined the expedition.
The trip was a long one, and the chill of the mountain height set in quickly, but there was little to do, save conversation....
"How old are you, son?" he asked, something warm audible beneath his otherwise gruff voice. "You hardly look of age. I'd have given a leg to be on an expedition like this when I was as young as you."
"I'm Donald." The Foreman introduced himself, holding out his grubby hand to both women. Sigurd took a small tin canteen from his coat and took a long guzzle, the look on his face betrayed that the liquid inside the canteen wasn't water. "The old man's the lead engineer for this sham. What are you two doin' ere'?"
Sigurd grunted his interest.
The ride was too quiet for her taste so she'd somewhat unconsciously began to hum a tune she remembered hearing in a jazz bar she had performed in the other week, while staring at the beautiful scenery outside the carriage window.
It was nice when one of the men finally spoke up, inquiring about just what her and the petite blonde beside her were doing on such a journey.
"Well Donald, an 'old man', it's very nice to meet you both." she'd say with a genuine smile as she shook his bare hand with one of her gloved ones before again interlacing her hands over the knee of her crossed leg. "I'm Victoria, Victoria Xu, an I'm a photographer....but I do believe the fact I'm well studied in History is why I've been lucky enough to join the rest of you here."
Victoria would chuckle a bit at her comment as she switched which of her legs was on top of the other before addressing the man she now knew as Donald.
"What exactly are you doing here though?" she inquired of him, not really considering how brazen that might sound coming from a woman.
He had worn his best suit for the first day of work on this project, not that it was anything special. Brown gabardine trousers neatly pressed but still well worn in the knees and faded from their original chocolate color to a more mocha hue. With them was a tweed jacket which was almost large enough to accommodate his broad shoulders and long arms, the leather patch at one elbow slightly loose. A crisp linen shirt was buttoned securely to the neck and complimented by a plain black tie of cotton, a bit frayed at it's tip but hidden beneath the buttoned coat. His hair was still shorn close to the scalp in the manner he'd worn it in the Corps, but he had a day's growth of stubble which roughed the otherwise sharp line of his jaw a bit. His possessions were all secured with the rest of the luggage in a single olive drab seabag.
He came to himself as conversation started, turning his eyes to the other passengers. He added his own name as the introductions were made, but otherwise said nothing. "Jim Wright."
Considering his introduction to be enough for the moment since he hadn't really been specifically referred to, he pulled a battered back of smokes from the inside of his coat and extracted a bent but serviceable specimen, lighting it with a plain wooden match. If the cold was affecting him in any way, he chose not to show it.
Shifting about in her seat to hold back a shiver from the chill, Elaine absently adjusted her simple, tight fitting jacket and smoothed down the long, loose brown skirts she wore. At least there wouldn't be sunburn or malaria this time, she mused as she fished out a cigarette and lighter from a pocket. She gazed across the other occupants of the carriage as she puffed out a small cloud of smoke, carefully examining each one for a moment, before returning to her silent musings on the expedition at hand. There would be so much to do and Elaine very much hoped they could begin their investigations immediately, especially after such a long and dreary trip.
Douglas closed his book and put it down into his bookbag, coughing and trying to breath calmly. He closed his eyes and sat back in his seat, exhaling. How many times had he gotten car sick on this ride, trying to read that stupid thing? Dozen, at least. He began fixing a few buttons on his white button-up shirt, then pulled down his green plaid vest. His slacks had a few coffee stains on them, but there wasn't much he could do about it now. What a mess he thought, letting out a huff and glancing to the window on the left.
"How old are you, son?" Was the question catching Douglas off guard. Douglas turned his gaze towards the smoker, and let a little grin escape. "Twenty, sir." He answered, looking proud of it. "Well you might just want to hold onto that leg for another day, sir. You'll need it. I hear these things are ridden with booby traps! Like, in That Mummy movie.. " Douglas turned his head towards Mr. Knudson. "You've seen it too, right?"
The man answered saying he was twenty and asking if Adam had seen a mummy movie. "I can't say I have. Though I think I saw a poster for it. I was busy the week it came to the town theater. And, no offense, but I'm surprised to see someone so young with us. Not that I should be one to talk, I'm can't be much older than you. But I must admit that from what I'd been told, I was expecting more of an experienced crew. N-n-not to say you aren't experienced or anything! I was just..." He put his hand on the back of his neck and rubbed slightly. And so it begins. If this is a real find we could be stuck together a while. It's best to try NOT to make enemies right away. Keep it together.
He didn't want to leave those as his last words so he turned to the man smoking the cigar. "You're, oh, I know you're name, Dr... Tree bark? Dry Barge? How, I've read it but ever heard it, how do you pronounce it? I, uh, I've been trying to keep up with the recent writings in the different fields. I must say, I've only read a couple of your papers, but they seem to simply ignore certain, in my opinion, very important aspects of what may influence people's culture." Sure. Go ahead and right out of the bat insult the leader of the expedition, the man with years more experience in the field then you.
He became somewhat flustered and spat out what might have been some kind of an apology underneath all the stumbling sounds he made as he finally turned to the last man in the carriage. "I must say!" He blurted out the words, as if trying to force the gears on a car without using the clutch. "I am surprised to see a holy man joining us. I guess I really shouldn't, I just hadn't thought about it before. I was never really religious. My parents never really raised me to believe in all that nonsense... Not to say that it's nonsense! Just that, you know, we never really thought that... Way." Now all you have to do is insult the driver and the horses and everyone in this carriage will have something against you. Why not insult the person who made it as well? Who designed it? How about insulting the first man to invent the wheel? Yeah, just, get everyone mad at you.
He clapped his hands together and exhaled an extended breath. He felt very uncomfortable at this point, which made him more nervous and made him feel more like speaking, though he feared that if he said anything more, he'd just make it worse. "So, did anyone have any luck talking to the locals?" There, that should be safe. He unconsciously scratched his chin under his beard. He suddenly felt a sharp pain and brought his hand back to look at it. There was a small bit of blood on the nail and tip of his finger. He grumbled and rubbed where it was just slightly bleeding. Yep. Great way to start.
The butler, seeming to be in his late forties or early fifties bowed politely as the guests left their respective coaches,"The master would like you to join him in the dining room. There is a dinner waiting for you there."
With that, the man turned and stepped though the massive oak doors, which were thrown wide to make way for luggage and the cheerful-looking folks that carried it indoors. For now, everything was neatly piled at the foot of the grand staircase, while the butler headed toward the aroma of home-cooked food, bidding the group to follow him.
"It's Dreiberg, son," he clarified. "Dry, like the opposite of outside. Berg, like an iceberg in a frozen sea." He sighed, trying not to worry about whether or not he would need to constantly have his eyes on this one the entire expedition. He did not care to babysit, and certainly not while he was working. "And you've read my papers have you? Well I'm very flattered. We can, if you want to, discuss my ignorance of cultural identity at length, provided we don't drown on the way to the castle. And don't mind him, Kid," he added to Douglas. "If you're not experienced now, you'll be plenty by the time you get back home."
Adam had a point though. A holy man was a curious addition to the team, something he never considered essential to something like this. Despite the attempts of his earnestly Jewish parents, Leonard never found himself quite able to believe. Faith, like contentment, was something he had always lacked.
"I met a few nice folks at the train station," said Dreiberg, "But I don't speak German, so the conversation was brief." He peered out through the side of the carriage. The looming dark frame of Castle Waechter was in sight.
As the group emerged from their carriages, they were greeted by a middle aged man who could only have been the castle's butler. Dreiberg disposed of his cigar as he followed the man inside.
"It's a pleasure to meet you sir," he said to the butler, extending his hand for a shake. Leonard, informed as he was, was still somewhat out of place when it came to matters of formality as it applied to the opulent.
Castle Waechter. It sounded german to him, and that was enough to make him despise it. "Nazi architecture." Sigurd said aloud, the engineer felt the bile rise in his throat and he spat on the floor, using his foot to rub it into the planks.
'That's from my boy' Sigurd thought. The old man made a grunt to get his foreman's attention and threw his head towards the dinner hall.
She had already taken a liking to Miss. Langley and couldn't help but laugh under her breath again at the jab she just took at the men she worked with, but before much else could be said the carriages came to a stop outside of the main doors.
Following the Engineer Victoria would carefully make her way out onto the stone walkway.
She'd crinkle her nose in disgust at the word "Nazi" before pointing out her luggage to the man helping unload the carriage.
"All the red ones, those are mine, like my lipstick and half my attire. Forget diamonds, Ruby's are this girls best friend" she joked, before offering to carry one of the bags herself.
The mention of food by the butler would put a glint in her eye's and cause her stomach to rumble softly.
"Food you say? Well that sounds wonderful, I'm starving."
In reality Victoria had eaten right before they left but for her every couple of hours could be considered meal time, so with a pep in her step she'd quickly follow the others inside - dropping the bag she was carrying atop the staircase and slipping out of her coat as she approached the dinning area.
"Though it's German it's still rather lovely." she'd whisper to herself, admiring the architecture of the castle more from a historical standpoint than anything else - wondering just how old it was as she threw her coat over the back a chair and then took a seat directly beside the head of the table, again without considering how her brash actions might come off.
He followed the group into the castle, not bothering to point out his seabag. It had his name stenciled in block print on the bottom, so it wasn't like one could mistake it for someone else's. he glanced around at the architecture in passing, but as none of it looked like a modern pillbox he wasn't about to consider it nazi in nature, since they favored practicality over appearances in his experience. He listened to the conversation, adding no input of his own. He was there to work, not chat, and while dinner was appreciated it wasn't necessary at this point.
She peered up at the castle, tiling her head back to see the very tips of the buttresses. "Most impressive." She said quietly. But her reverie was interrupted as she heard Sigrud. "I daresay this fine place has outlived several Reichs." Elaine stated dryly, wrinkling her nose at She was starting to remember why she preferred when the workers couldn't speak more then a smattering of English. At least then they would keep the uneducated opinions to themselves.
Perfectly content to let the servants handle her luggage, it was only a couple simple trunks. Of course, she did not envy whoever carried the one full of her equipment up the winding staircases the castle likely contained. But then again, that was his job. Elaine had her own job, which she was impatient enough to do, but then again conditions would likely be dismal enough in the castle's underground by day, much less an even colder night. "Dinner does sound nice. I do hope the owner can tell us some of the fine castle's history."
But what once was minimal furry boiling up inside, became a joyous humor, and Douglas just couldn't stop smiling. Who did this guy think he was, insulting nearly everyone on the carriage like that? It's the bee's knees now, Douglas thought to himself, hoping the other three passengers didn't catch his grinning. But again, his smile was stolen as another interruption came up. The carriage came to a sudden hold and Douglas had to hold onto his seat. "Wow, we're here already?" He question excitedly, grabbing his book bag and quickly following the other passengers out.
"Schön einfach schön.." Douglas mumbled to himself, German for "Beautiful, just beautiful.." Even though now, it seemed a bit more frightening than beautiful to him. Still, he marveled at it for a few seconds, imagining how long it would take to build such a thing. But soon enough, the mention of dinner sent him back in line to the dinning room. He eagerly but kindly tried to squeezing through and around people, wanting to get a first pick of seats. He sat down near an end of the table, two seats apart from the edge. He had a big smile on his face as he placed his book bag down by his feet, and patiently waited for everyone to sit down so the feast could begin.
He got his larger bag from the driver, thanked the man, and looked up at the castle. The severe lines were a sharp contrast to the Italian architecture he knew, as well as Edinburgh and the United States. He overheard some of the other passengers discussing the castle's connexion, or lack thereof, to the Nazis. He let out a short but sincere laugh on hearing a quip about the castle's age from one of the women. "Nazi or nae, it's a beautiful castle," he said, his brogue thin but present.
Dinner sounded nice. Perhaps then he could catch up on what he missed while asleep.
If you were to catch glimpses of her as she ate she'd appear to be eating rather normally and proper, but if you made a point to stare you'd notice that though proper she was eating at a rather fast pace. However she'd catch herself after several bites and make a point to not only slow down but take intermittent sips of her beer.
Suddenly the silence that had fallen around her after prayer was said would be broken.
"It's a great pleasure to meet you, Luke, my name is Leonard. Leonard Dreiberg. I'm the head researcher of this little expedition."
Leonard would stop long enough to extended his hand out to the old man. "Your home is beautiful, and I thank you for accepting us all here. I believe we have much to discuss. For one, we were told you've discovered something curious here?"
Swallowing the last bit of her steak Victoria would dab her lips gently, as to not remove much of her lipstick, before speaking up herself.
"Indeed it's a pleasure to meet you sir an I too thank you for the generous invitation. I'm Victoria Xu, from the TIMES, I do hope this discovery of yours is well worth the hype...to say my interest has been peaked would be such an understatement."
"You know, I've been studying under Dr. Hooton back at Harvard on his studies into Physical Anthropology. He believes that the culture and advancement of a people is partially genetic and depends on race just as much as it does where they are or how they're raised. That's part of why they think..." He paused and remembered his dumb mouth. "Not, of course, that I agree with everything he says or thinks. I mean, science is forever, excuse the terminology, evolving."
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