NaNoWriMo Day 1
Nov. 1st, 2009 04:27 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
wolfanficsWord count: OVER 95000! (5092 to be precise. XD)
I wanted to get a good lot done today so I can not worry so much during the week while I complete the last few assignments I have to do. Then I can forget about that and concentrate on studying for my exams and writing the hell out of this novel. :D
Anyway. For the interested, here's the draft unedited 'this is probably not going to stay this way' lot of stuff I wrote today, including my fabulously awesome scene titles (since I'm doing this in yWriter for once. XD)
Includes prologue I probably need to lengthen, and what I have written of chapter 1. Not having much of a plan means I'll have to make chapters as I go along. That probably is a good spot to end Ch1, but we'll see.
Prologue
Princess Sophia flees the palace (okay, kinda dull, but it gets better. XD)
London. 1810. Whatever the name of the cemetery is.* A solitary figure sits on the dewy grass in front of one of the royal graves, weeping. The newest burial had been the dear Princess Amelia, who had wasted away in front of her sister Sophia's eyes. Sophia had not taken her death well, and had been rather fond of her. Without her to keep away the dreaded boredom that came with being a royal princess of the King, Sophia had, well, gone a little stir-crazy.
Only a month had passed since her sister had been buried, but she'd had enough. She was thankful she had paid so much attention to her magic lessons. It made escaping the palace unnoticed much easier. Disguised as a boy, wearing clothes she had charmed to make her appearance more credible, she slipped into the night, assumed a male name, and fled. She only paused to say goodbye to her sister.
"I wished we'd had more time together, dear one. You were too beautiful to be confined to a cage like a songbird. I should have liked to get you out of there. We could have explored the country together. We could have been free, dear sister. But no, not anymore. I renounce my name tonight. My life, my titles, my land, it means nothing, nothing at all, if I cannot be free. I am no longer a princess, nor do I desire such a position. I have not lived at all, and I shall leave it all behind and live a life worth living. Only then can I truly say I have done what I can to earn this life the Gods have given me."
She whispered quietly, her words quick and hurried in case she was spotted. A passing cloud revealed the moonlight and it became too dangerous to remain. With a flick of her wrist and a murmured sentence, a single rose appeared on the grave. Sophia kissed the headstone once more and left, leaving her beloved sister lying dead in the ground.
On horseback Sophia fled, travelling north into the Midlands. The horse would soon tire, but it mattered not. She would sell the beast in the next market and use the funds to secure her passage, should she need it. It would be nice, at the very least, to have some sort of coin to her name. She would not have to beg for it then.
The journey allowed her time to think, and plan, and build a character for herself. She figured if anyone was to successfully integrate into the society of the common people, she would need a proper story. She had always been good at sneaking around without being caught. It had saved her from humiliation many times. An idea began to form in her head. Certainly, it would need to be adjusted when she decided where to settle, to take into account what had been going on.
It was then that she decided to head towards Birmingham, the city that had never quite managed to recover from terrible rioting two decades earlier. She could hide amongst rebels, amongst friends, and her father would never find her. One way or another, she would bring down the Royal House. All it required was time and patience, of which she had an endless supply. She grinned wickedly as she travelled into the night, knowing she was probably the only one who could pull off what she wanted to achieve. This pleased her immeasurably.
* I believe it's Windsor something or other. I forgot and haven't bothered to look it up yet. XD Will do that at some point.
Chapter 1
Hello Mr Radio, do I disturb you?
The apartment was nearly empty. All that was left were the few possessions Andrew would need to last the two days before he would leave London for good. He was secretly glad of it, though dreading being back home with his family. He had just finished packing up his workshop, and had carried up the crates of tools and projects he'd been working on for the last few years.
One of his projects, however, was not in a crate. It was sitting on a windowsill overlooking the narrow street below. It looked like a very strange machine indeed. It could've been some sort of scientific device for measuring electricity. It could have been some sort of engine prototype. It could even have been a sort of telegraphy machine. It was, sadly, none of these things. The only word Andrew had for the device was a 'radiographical transmitting device', or radio for short. It had a button to turn it on, and a small amplification instrument that had been tweaked somewhat into a shape that was almost unrecognisable. The device was emitting a strange noise, a strange type of music the world of 1822 had never heard before.
The creation of the device had come about purely by accident about two months earlier. Andrew had been playing around with a transmitting device, hoping to discover what else could be transmitted from one place to another, like telegraphy could be used to transmit messages. He was, however, utilising magic in an attempt to make the connection work better. What had happened when he'd thrown the switch and set the transmitter going was not what he had expected.
There had been an explosion. It was not, however, the normal sort of explosion. No, what had happened was that there had been a bright white flash of light, the device had started humming, and a few seconds later, it had started emitting the most dreadful noise. Andrew had attempted to shut it down but it refused. It wasn't until it acquired a voice that Andrew stopped and stared at it in awe.
"Oi, whatchoo doing down there? Quit making all that noise. You'll get yourself on air if you're not careful," said a common-sounding male voice from the device.
Andrew lowered the spanner he was about to whack the device with and approached cautiously. "You can hear me? Who are you?"
"Mate, course I can hear ya. Dunno how, but I can. Haven't you kids got better things to do than spy on our telephone lines?" the voice said.
"What is a telephone? I do not believe I have heard of such a device before. Do you, perhaps, know how it works?" Andrew said.
"You're kidding, right? Everyone's got a phone. You use it to talk to people. You know, pick up the receiver, dial a number, talk to your mates?" the voice said.
"Oh, you mean a telegraphy machine! I know what that is, though I do not know why you must dial a number first. Why do you dial a number?" Andrew said.
"Okay, who are you and what kind of practical joke is this? Is this for some radio stunt?" the voice said.
"My name, good sir, is Master Andrew, and I do not know what this radio is or why it requires stunts! What queer sort of world do you live in where such a thing exists?"
"Nine'een sev'nty free. What's it to you, Master Andrew?"
"Dear Lord." Andrew crossed himself. "Dear Lord. A voice from the future? What kind of madness is this?"
"I'd say you're pretty mad from where I'm sitting."
"You- you can see me too? No, surely this is trickery. I do not know who is playing this queer prank on me, but I wish it to stop this instant." Andrew attempted to address the device in an authoritative manner, but his hesitation showed.
"Look, mate, I gotta go. Some of us have jobs to do."
And that was the last thing the device had said. It continued to play strange music to him, however, and another voice was heard in between the short bursts of song, telling him what the song was. Andrew had never heard such strangeness before. This other voice could not talk to him, however. Andrew was silently grateful for that.
He continued working on the device for some time, trying to make it silent. Three hours later and he had what would pass for a system to control the sound, which didn't seem to want to stop. It was some sort of continual stream of sound, and none of it made sense to him.
Those long hours, though, had turned what had been a strange and incessant stream of noise into something rather pleasant. He'd even found himself tapping along to some of the songs. He was most surprised to hear orchestral instruments, too, ones being used in a completely strange manner.
From what he had managed to work out from the DJ (whatever that was; Andrew had no idea and the radio did not see fit to tell him) who was announcing the names of the songs, they were being performed by different bands. Not all used orchestral instruments either. Some had a hard twanging sound that might've been a guitar that had been tuned all wrong mixed with a strangled cat. The drum beat was completely strange. It was constant throughout the song, and did not sound the way orchestral percussion sounded. The music was very loud, and the vocalists sung in very short bursts, singing a few lines before pausing and then singing some more. It appeared to be a verse-chorus structure, though even this was not always adhered to.
Andrew found himself analysing the music as he listened to it, trying to compare it to the music theory he knew. He'd studied music all his life, and as much as he liked it, it had stopped exciting him like it used to do. Well, not until he'd heard the music the radio played. His initial irritation had eventually given way to curiosity. What sort of instruments made that sort of music? How did you make them?
When the voice returned, he had managed to coax some information out of him about the instruments after they'd both got over the initial weirdness that came with speaking to someone in a totally different time period to you. It was a very strange sort of conversation. The voice, a man who said his name was Steve, was the only person who could talk to him. None of the other voices talked to him, or gave any indication they could hear him.
Having the radio had brought him a companion in his workshop, and while his attempts at building the instruments had not gone well, Andrew was determined to better them. Sadly, they would have to be done at home. He hadn't wanted to leave London, but there was no reason to stay so he answered his father's reluctant letter bidding him return home.
He approached the windowsill and rested a hand on the radio. Over the past week, he'd made it a cover out of copper in a bid to protect it on the journey home. It looked like an ordinary device now, nothing anyone should pay attention to. It would travel home in a suitcase and would never leave Andrew's side. He listened to the music it played, a band he had come to recognise the more he listened to it. A finger tapped along to the melody and he watched the people passing by on the street as he waited for his cab to arrive.
So which way to my platform? Where is my goddamn train?
Andrew was no exactly good at catching trains. He had not had many opportunities to do so during his time in London. However, he did admire their speed and engineering. They were, quite frankly, rather beautiful. When the first cab arrived, Andrew helped pack the last of his crates of belongings into the carriage before sending them off. He waited for the second cab to take him to the station, his radio clutched in its bag and under one arm. The only things he had that were too precious to leave unattended was the radio, and his grandfather's old magic books.
Andrew had never been allowed to learn magic. It was considered unsuitable for his station, and he had been sent to a boring non-magical school instead to complete his education. However, it was during one of his trips to the library that he discovered his grandfather had been a great magician and scientist. How he had not come across this fact before he wasn't sure. The idea that magic might run in his blood excited him. He wondered where his grandfather's things had been kept after he died. The book he had been reading had suggested he had kept them hidden to preserve them. Andrew returned from school that day and went searching.
It took him three weeks to find the secret cache of his grandfather's things. They had been hidden in a small room in a corner of their estate that no one ever went to. There were many, many things in that room, most of which Andrew couldn't identify. As he gazed around, he saw the books. Old, tatty, but well-loved books. Andrew took them out and sat down to look at them. As soon as he opened the books, he knew he'd stumbled upon something marvellous. He vowed to learn all he could from his grandfather's books, though it wasn't until he was at university that he had the freedom to learn without his father looking over his shoulder.
University had also offered tuition, and he took the chance to learn magic and engineering alongside the medicine he was studying at the time. He had no love for medicine, and had no desire to practice. He was more interested in other things. His basement workshop became his sanctuary and he had to be reminded to go to class or he'd fail and be kicked out of university. Thankfully, he had a very patient friend who would always come to collect him for class at least half an hour beforehand to give Andrew time to finish his tinkering and change into something more respectable than his dirty boilersuit. They would discuss class on their way so Andrew at least had some idea of what he was supposed to be learning.
The train station itself was big, and busy. Andrew was sure it hadn't been this busy last time he was hear. He glanced at his ticket to see which platform he was supposed to be looking for. In between getting a better grip on his bags and shoving his way as politely as possible through the crowds, trying to find his train before it left without him. Andrew heard the call for the train to Birmingham and headed towards it.
Eventually, the crowd thinned, and the platform where the train was waiting for him was not very crowded. The train looked like a cargo train, but there were a few carriages left for passengers.
"Last call for Birmingham! Get on the train, you blighters!" came the voice of the driver as he leaned out of the train, looking back at the platform.
Andrew scurried along and entered the nearest carriage, yanking the door open as he clambered aboard. He had no trouble finding a compartment to himself and sat down just as the train whistle blew and the train began to move forward. He leant against the seat, catching his breath. The station passed in a blur. Andrew let the movement of the carriage ease him into a light slumber, arms clutched tightly around his radio and his books.
This isn't New Street Statio-Oh.
Andrew didn't notice the train wasn't heading towards the centre of Birmingham until it stopped at the old Vauxhill station. Andrew looked out the window and didn't recognise the station as he watched everyone disembarking. Curious, he got up, took his belongings, and went to find someone to ask if the train was continuing on to New Street. He left the train and found a conductor on the platform, waving everyone off the train.
"Excuse me, but doesn't this train continue on to New Street?" Andrew asked, approaching the man.
"No, 'course it doesn't. We don't go into that part of town. Got on the wrong train, didya?" the conductor said.
"I-uh, I might have done. I'm sorry. I was in a hurry and I thought this was the right train. Which way to town?" Andrew said. He sort of knew, but it had been a while, and he wasn't familiar where this station was in relation to everything else around town.
"Head west. Follow the train line. And be careful. Not all them Dissenters will be kind to you," the conductor said, indicating the correct direction.
"Thank you, sir. I'll be careful," Andrew said.
The conductor shook his head as he watched Andrew leave. He looked like the sort of kid who'd get held up. Maybe it was what he deserved.
I'm part of the nobility! I demand you get out of my way!
Andrew left the station and began his long journey back home. He would have to go on foot. He didn't see any cabs around, and his bike had been left on the proper train to New Street. He would have to go to the station to collect his things before heading home. At least he didn't have too much to carry. Walking on foot would be acceptable. He'd suffered worse.
With a sigh, he headed off for the centre of town, staying close to the train line. There was nothing much out here but fields and grass. Farmland. He could see the buildings in the distance, but it would take a while to get there. Thankfully, the sky didn't look like it was about to rain on him, and it was a rather pleasant summer day. It wasn't such a bad walk though. The scenery was quite pleasant to look at, and he stopped a while at the edge of one of the canals to take a break and eat. If he was old enough to remember how things used to be, he might've wished for the good old days. All he remembered, however, were the riots, the divisions, and the constant stalemate that had enveloped the town.
He was quite sure everyone on that train had been Dissenters. He hadn't known they had managed to secure a line for themselves. Andrew had only been aware they owned the canals, and that the King had forbidden trains to run to Dissenter camps. Perhaps things had changed, or they'd managed to operate covertly. The whole situation depressed Andrew somewhat. The division and animostity had been going on for more than three decades. Surely some sort of compromise would have been reached by then.
Alas, all that had happened was the town had become split in two, and had gone their separate ways. The centre of town, held by Royalist forces, had been greatly assisted by the King, who had, albeit reluctantly, gifted them manpower, soldiers, and money, along with sole access to the train lines, and the damage done by the terrible rioting in 1791 had finally been repaired.
The two Dissenter camps, situated around the nexus of the canal systems on the eastern and western sides of town, had developed of their own accord. They were beginning to look like proper towns, with houses and roads. Word was they were shipping in supplies and men using the canals under the cover of darkness.
The situation seemed to have remained the same, although it was difficult to tell. As he gazed over at the landscape past the canal, he saw what looked like some sort of giant scrap yard. It had a very odd shape, and looked like some sort of giant fortress. There were no houses or other buildings around it. Perhaps the town down this end of Birmingham had become a walled city, locked inside the scrap yard for protection.
The sound of a steam engine and a boat approaching caught his attention. He clutched his things close, hoping he wouldn't be mugged. he watched them pull up and stop almost directly in front of him. Three lads clambered out and came ashore, surrounding Andrew. They were dressed in dirty clothes, though one had what looked like a captain's hat on, and an eye patch. Andrew assumed he was the leader. The other two wore bandannas. All had swords and pistols tucked into their belts, and none of them looked very friendly at all.
"Well, well, well. What have we here? You ain't one of us, are yer? Whatcha got there?" said the lad wearing the captain's hat.
"Just - things. I got on the wrong train. I would just like to get home," Andrew said.
"Oh, ey? Sure you're not some sort of spy? I hate spies. And Royalist dogs," the captain replied. He leant in close and sneered at Andrew.
"I'm not a spy, I promise. I was just trying to get home. I-I don't catch trains very often. Will you let me go, please? I mean you no harm," Andrew said.
The shorter of the two accomplices approached the captain. "Looks a bit pathetic if you ask me, Jalyn. Doubt he's got anything worth theiving. Let him go. We've got bigger targets."
"Michael, if I wanted your opinion, I'd ask for it. Though he does look rather undernourished. Rich pigs don't look so skinny. Probably wouldn't put up much of a fight though. Alright, off y'go, mate. But don't come here again. I won't be so lenient next time. This here's our land. No one trespasses and goes unpunished," Jalyn said.
Andrew backed away. "Look, I'll just be on my way, shall I? I'm sorry to have disturbed you."
"Yeah, you do that, Royalist scum," Jalyn called after him as Andrew scurried away, remembering to keep to the train line as he went.
The three lads watched him go. Jalyn was annoyed he'd let him get away, but Michael was right. They had bigger targets than the lost children of nobles. Best concentrate their efforts on what they were really working for.
"Y'know, we probably could've stolen that stuff from him. Looked expensive," the third said. He was taller than Michael, but lacked his stocky build. His long hair was pulled into a messy ponytail that hung down his back.
"Oi, Bev, where did you get this taste for expensive things anyway? It ain't right for a man," Michael said, turning to look at him.
"Dunno. Probably all those long hours working in me parent's shop. It was always so pretty in there," Bev said. He forced his grief aside. It had been too long. There was no reason to cry about it now.
"Maybe them rumours were right. Maybe you're really a girl," Michael said with a laugh.
"Knock it off, will you? I've got a better idea than bickering over this," Jalyn said. He wandered back to the boat and thumped the side of the cabin. "Oi, Craig, get yer arse out here."
A moment later, a small slender lad clambered out and stood beside him. "You called, aye?"
"Chase after him, our little lost boy. I want you to stake out his place. Get to know him. Might be worth ransacking later on. Don't let on what you're really doing, either. Repeat that mistake and you'll be drowned in the canals. Now get going," Jalyn said.
With a smack to his head, Craig scampered off, chasing after Andrew as he made his way into town. Andrew didn't even know he was being followed until Craig decided to make his presence known. Little did either know what direction their friendship would really take.
Oh, dickhead, you dropped your wallet!
Andrew became aware of another presence when he was hit in the head with a small stone. He turned to see Craig standing there grinning at him. He didn't know who he was, and didn't remember seeing him with the lads back at the canal. Maybe he'd seen it and followed, though for what purpose he couldn't work out.
"And who might you be? Here to take me by surprise and mug me?" Andrew said.
"Nah, nothing like that. Saw what they did. Mean bastards, aren't they? Least they let you go in once piece. Look, you know where you're going? Cos you look a little lost. I'd be happy to lend a hand, show you the way back. I take it you live in one of them big manors, yeah? Here, lemme carry something for you. Probably not used to having to carry all your things by yourself. Think of me as your new servant. Come on, this way, we're nearly there," Craig said, taking the bad containing the books as he skipped ahead of Andrew.
Andrew stood there, staring after him, before following him as he realised he needed to get his books back. "Hey! Wait up! Give me my bag back!"
Craig skipped along until Andrew caught up. "Knew you'd follow me. So. What's your name?"
"Andrew. Er, who are you?" Andrew said.
"Call me Craig. Don't worry, I know this city like the back of my hand. Or something. Anyway. I can get you home. Come on," Craig said.
Andrew was too surprised by Craig's eagerness to help to refuse him, and they chatted amiably as they walked towards town. Craig proved to be more intelligent than he had appeared, and their discussions were quite interesting. They stopped at New Street station so Andrew could organise for his things to be sent home. Andrew tried to insist he was fine to walk the rest of the way home, but Craig would have none of it, and continued to carry his bag as they walked home.
Andrew's family's estate was grand indeed. They stopped outside the gates and Andrew didn't quite know what to say. Craig handed his bag over and stood there, grinning at him.
"Well. I suppose this is it then. Glad to have been of service, Master Andrew. Maybe we shall meet again?" Craig said, bowing to him.
Andrew blushed. "Uh, maybe. Thank you for your assistance."
Craig leant forward and pecked his cheek before skipping off back towards the city. Andrew watched him go, gently touching the spot where he'd been kissed. Only when he was out of sight did Andrew take his bags and enter his estate, traipsing the long driveway towards the main house.
Home Sweet Home. After a fashion.
Andrew was ready for a long sleep once he arrived home. Once he'd made sure his things had arrived and had been brought to his rooms, he bathed and changed his clothes before even thinking about going to greet his family. He needed the time to clear his head. Just as he was putting the last of his clothes away, his brother William came to see him.
"So. The prodigal son returns," he said, leaning against the door frame.
"Couldn't find an excuse to stay any longer. How are you? It's good to see you again," Andrew said. He smiled and pulled his brother into a warm hug.
William clasped him tight before moving past him to sit on his bed. "Better for seeing you, my dear. I have been ever so lonely without you. Tell me, what have you been learning down in jolly old London?"
"Medicine is ever so tiresome, but I did manage to pass well enough to satisfy our uncle. As for the rest, well, that's my little secret." Andrew smiled.
"You shall tell me all about it, dear brother! I insist on nothing less," William said.
"Close the door. I do not want us overheard," Andrew said.
William left the bed, closed the door, and returned to sit opposite his brother. They were only two years apart, and had always been close. Their older siblings were several years their senior, and had been groomed as heirs since birth. William and Andrew, brothers who had been born to their father's sister before she and their father had been killed, had been adopted by their uncle though they were never really treated as anything other than excess baggage. It had bonded them closer than they had anticipated and they kept few secrets from each other.
"I have been learning magic, William. From the professors at university. Do not tell our uncle, he will not be pleased," Andrew said.
"Magic, you say? How did you convince them to teach you? I thought you must have studied it prior to university to obtain their tuition," William said.
"I have my ways. And my grandfather's books. I have managed to teach myself enough to convince them I was good enough to teach. I took magic lessons while I was studying. And engineering. I have been learning all sorts of things more interesting than medicine," Andrew said.
"Well, you do seem to have a knack for that sort of thing. I really have missed you, brother. It has been very hard to be apart from you for so many years. Do not leave me again, for I do not think I could bear the loneliness. It was unbearable here without you," William said, taking his hand.
"I know, and I wished to return when I had learnt all I could. I am sorry it took so long. I promise not to do so again," Andrew said.
Andrew hugged him again. He had quite forgotten how much he had missed him. Left to their own devices a lot of the time, they had had more freedom than perhaps their own parents might have allowed them. They spent their childhood exploring the grounds of their estate, exploring the ancient wings of their mansion, and generally keeping out of sight. They were never going to inherit, so there seemed no reason for their uncle to bestow the sort of attention on them that he gave to his own children. It didn't seem to matter. Andrew appreciated William's friendship. They had each other. They might not have had their parents, or their uncle and his family, but they had each other, and that meant the world to them.
"You really don't know what it was like here. The war got worse, and our uncle was harder on me. There were riots while you were away, and I had to fight. All I wanted was to be with you instead, rather than be trapped in this insufferable mansion. You must teach me magic, brother, when we are alone. I must learn it. I cannot abide not knowing how to cast it when you yourself have learnt. Our grandfather would be proud of us if we took up his talents," William said.
"I should be pleased to teach you. But not now. We shall set up my workshop again and I shall teach you everything there is to know in the dark of night where we will not be disturbed," Andrew said.
Any typos etc will be fixed up later. XD But yes. Not bad for a day's work. :D
If you wish to tell me how good/bad/WTFy/etc it is, feel free. I'm still working on an overall style here, so it's a little more conversational in parts. So IDK. I suppose it'll turn out how it turns out, steampunk or otherwise. XD
I wanted to get a good lot done today so I can not worry so much during the week while I complete the last few assignments I have to do. Then I can forget about that and concentrate on studying for my exams and writing the hell out of this novel. :D
Anyway. For the interested, here's the draft unedited 'this is probably not going to stay this way' lot of stuff I wrote today, including my fabulously awesome scene titles (since I'm doing this in yWriter for once. XD)
Includes prologue I probably need to lengthen, and what I have written of chapter 1. Not having much of a plan means I'll have to make chapters as I go along. That probably is a good spot to end Ch1, but we'll see.
Prologue
Princess Sophia flees the palace (okay, kinda dull, but it gets better. XD)
London. 1810. Whatever the name of the cemetery is.* A solitary figure sits on the dewy grass in front of one of the royal graves, weeping. The newest burial had been the dear Princess Amelia, who had wasted away in front of her sister Sophia's eyes. Sophia had not taken her death well, and had been rather fond of her. Without her to keep away the dreaded boredom that came with being a royal princess of the King, Sophia had, well, gone a little stir-crazy.
Only a month had passed since her sister had been buried, but she'd had enough. She was thankful she had paid so much attention to her magic lessons. It made escaping the palace unnoticed much easier. Disguised as a boy, wearing clothes she had charmed to make her appearance more credible, she slipped into the night, assumed a male name, and fled. She only paused to say goodbye to her sister.
"I wished we'd had more time together, dear one. You were too beautiful to be confined to a cage like a songbird. I should have liked to get you out of there. We could have explored the country together. We could have been free, dear sister. But no, not anymore. I renounce my name tonight. My life, my titles, my land, it means nothing, nothing at all, if I cannot be free. I am no longer a princess, nor do I desire such a position. I have not lived at all, and I shall leave it all behind and live a life worth living. Only then can I truly say I have done what I can to earn this life the Gods have given me."
She whispered quietly, her words quick and hurried in case she was spotted. A passing cloud revealed the moonlight and it became too dangerous to remain. With a flick of her wrist and a murmured sentence, a single rose appeared on the grave. Sophia kissed the headstone once more and left, leaving her beloved sister lying dead in the ground.
On horseback Sophia fled, travelling north into the Midlands. The horse would soon tire, but it mattered not. She would sell the beast in the next market and use the funds to secure her passage, should she need it. It would be nice, at the very least, to have some sort of coin to her name. She would not have to beg for it then.
The journey allowed her time to think, and plan, and build a character for herself. She figured if anyone was to successfully integrate into the society of the common people, she would need a proper story. She had always been good at sneaking around without being caught. It had saved her from humiliation many times. An idea began to form in her head. Certainly, it would need to be adjusted when she decided where to settle, to take into account what had been going on.
It was then that she decided to head towards Birmingham, the city that had never quite managed to recover from terrible rioting two decades earlier. She could hide amongst rebels, amongst friends, and her father would never find her. One way or another, she would bring down the Royal House. All it required was time and patience, of which she had an endless supply. She grinned wickedly as she travelled into the night, knowing she was probably the only one who could pull off what she wanted to achieve. This pleased her immeasurably.
* I believe it's Windsor something or other. I forgot and haven't bothered to look it up yet. XD Will do that at some point.
Chapter 1
Hello Mr Radio, do I disturb you?
The apartment was nearly empty. All that was left were the few possessions Andrew would need to last the two days before he would leave London for good. He was secretly glad of it, though dreading being back home with his family. He had just finished packing up his workshop, and had carried up the crates of tools and projects he'd been working on for the last few years.
One of his projects, however, was not in a crate. It was sitting on a windowsill overlooking the narrow street below. It looked like a very strange machine indeed. It could've been some sort of scientific device for measuring electricity. It could have been some sort of engine prototype. It could even have been a sort of telegraphy machine. It was, sadly, none of these things. The only word Andrew had for the device was a 'radiographical transmitting device', or radio for short. It had a button to turn it on, and a small amplification instrument that had been tweaked somewhat into a shape that was almost unrecognisable. The device was emitting a strange noise, a strange type of music the world of 1822 had never heard before.
The creation of the device had come about purely by accident about two months earlier. Andrew had been playing around with a transmitting device, hoping to discover what else could be transmitted from one place to another, like telegraphy could be used to transmit messages. He was, however, utilising magic in an attempt to make the connection work better. What had happened when he'd thrown the switch and set the transmitter going was not what he had expected.
There had been an explosion. It was not, however, the normal sort of explosion. No, what had happened was that there had been a bright white flash of light, the device had started humming, and a few seconds later, it had started emitting the most dreadful noise. Andrew had attempted to shut it down but it refused. It wasn't until it acquired a voice that Andrew stopped and stared at it in awe.
"Oi, whatchoo doing down there? Quit making all that noise. You'll get yourself on air if you're not careful," said a common-sounding male voice from the device.
Andrew lowered the spanner he was about to whack the device with and approached cautiously. "You can hear me? Who are you?"
"Mate, course I can hear ya. Dunno how, but I can. Haven't you kids got better things to do than spy on our telephone lines?" the voice said.
"What is a telephone? I do not believe I have heard of such a device before. Do you, perhaps, know how it works?" Andrew said.
"You're kidding, right? Everyone's got a phone. You use it to talk to people. You know, pick up the receiver, dial a number, talk to your mates?" the voice said.
"Oh, you mean a telegraphy machine! I know what that is, though I do not know why you must dial a number first. Why do you dial a number?" Andrew said.
"Okay, who are you and what kind of practical joke is this? Is this for some radio stunt?" the voice said.
"My name, good sir, is Master Andrew, and I do not know what this radio is or why it requires stunts! What queer sort of world do you live in where such a thing exists?"
"Nine'een sev'nty free. What's it to you, Master Andrew?"
"Dear Lord." Andrew crossed himself. "Dear Lord. A voice from the future? What kind of madness is this?"
"I'd say you're pretty mad from where I'm sitting."
"You- you can see me too? No, surely this is trickery. I do not know who is playing this queer prank on me, but I wish it to stop this instant." Andrew attempted to address the device in an authoritative manner, but his hesitation showed.
"Look, mate, I gotta go. Some of us have jobs to do."
And that was the last thing the device had said. It continued to play strange music to him, however, and another voice was heard in between the short bursts of song, telling him what the song was. Andrew had never heard such strangeness before. This other voice could not talk to him, however. Andrew was silently grateful for that.
He continued working on the device for some time, trying to make it silent. Three hours later and he had what would pass for a system to control the sound, which didn't seem to want to stop. It was some sort of continual stream of sound, and none of it made sense to him.
Those long hours, though, had turned what had been a strange and incessant stream of noise into something rather pleasant. He'd even found himself tapping along to some of the songs. He was most surprised to hear orchestral instruments, too, ones being used in a completely strange manner.
From what he had managed to work out from the DJ (whatever that was; Andrew had no idea and the radio did not see fit to tell him) who was announcing the names of the songs, they were being performed by different bands. Not all used orchestral instruments either. Some had a hard twanging sound that might've been a guitar that had been tuned all wrong mixed with a strangled cat. The drum beat was completely strange. It was constant throughout the song, and did not sound the way orchestral percussion sounded. The music was very loud, and the vocalists sung in very short bursts, singing a few lines before pausing and then singing some more. It appeared to be a verse-chorus structure, though even this was not always adhered to.
Andrew found himself analysing the music as he listened to it, trying to compare it to the music theory he knew. He'd studied music all his life, and as much as he liked it, it had stopped exciting him like it used to do. Well, not until he'd heard the music the radio played. His initial irritation had eventually given way to curiosity. What sort of instruments made that sort of music? How did you make them?
When the voice returned, he had managed to coax some information out of him about the instruments after they'd both got over the initial weirdness that came with speaking to someone in a totally different time period to you. It was a very strange sort of conversation. The voice, a man who said his name was Steve, was the only person who could talk to him. None of the other voices talked to him, or gave any indication they could hear him.
Having the radio had brought him a companion in his workshop, and while his attempts at building the instruments had not gone well, Andrew was determined to better them. Sadly, they would have to be done at home. He hadn't wanted to leave London, but there was no reason to stay so he answered his father's reluctant letter bidding him return home.
He approached the windowsill and rested a hand on the radio. Over the past week, he'd made it a cover out of copper in a bid to protect it on the journey home. It looked like an ordinary device now, nothing anyone should pay attention to. It would travel home in a suitcase and would never leave Andrew's side. He listened to the music it played, a band he had come to recognise the more he listened to it. A finger tapped along to the melody and he watched the people passing by on the street as he waited for his cab to arrive.
So which way to my platform? Where is my goddamn train?
Andrew was no exactly good at catching trains. He had not had many opportunities to do so during his time in London. However, he did admire their speed and engineering. They were, quite frankly, rather beautiful. When the first cab arrived, Andrew helped pack the last of his crates of belongings into the carriage before sending them off. He waited for the second cab to take him to the station, his radio clutched in its bag and under one arm. The only things he had that were too precious to leave unattended was the radio, and his grandfather's old magic books.
Andrew had never been allowed to learn magic. It was considered unsuitable for his station, and he had been sent to a boring non-magical school instead to complete his education. However, it was during one of his trips to the library that he discovered his grandfather had been a great magician and scientist. How he had not come across this fact before he wasn't sure. The idea that magic might run in his blood excited him. He wondered where his grandfather's things had been kept after he died. The book he had been reading had suggested he had kept them hidden to preserve them. Andrew returned from school that day and went searching.
It took him three weeks to find the secret cache of his grandfather's things. They had been hidden in a small room in a corner of their estate that no one ever went to. There were many, many things in that room, most of which Andrew couldn't identify. As he gazed around, he saw the books. Old, tatty, but well-loved books. Andrew took them out and sat down to look at them. As soon as he opened the books, he knew he'd stumbled upon something marvellous. He vowed to learn all he could from his grandfather's books, though it wasn't until he was at university that he had the freedom to learn without his father looking over his shoulder.
University had also offered tuition, and he took the chance to learn magic and engineering alongside the medicine he was studying at the time. He had no love for medicine, and had no desire to practice. He was more interested in other things. His basement workshop became his sanctuary and he had to be reminded to go to class or he'd fail and be kicked out of university. Thankfully, he had a very patient friend who would always come to collect him for class at least half an hour beforehand to give Andrew time to finish his tinkering and change into something more respectable than his dirty boilersuit. They would discuss class on their way so Andrew at least had some idea of what he was supposed to be learning.
The train station itself was big, and busy. Andrew was sure it hadn't been this busy last time he was hear. He glanced at his ticket to see which platform he was supposed to be looking for. In between getting a better grip on his bags and shoving his way as politely as possible through the crowds, trying to find his train before it left without him. Andrew heard the call for the train to Birmingham and headed towards it.
Eventually, the crowd thinned, and the platform where the train was waiting for him was not very crowded. The train looked like a cargo train, but there were a few carriages left for passengers.
"Last call for Birmingham! Get on the train, you blighters!" came the voice of the driver as he leaned out of the train, looking back at the platform.
Andrew scurried along and entered the nearest carriage, yanking the door open as he clambered aboard. He had no trouble finding a compartment to himself and sat down just as the train whistle blew and the train began to move forward. He leant against the seat, catching his breath. The station passed in a blur. Andrew let the movement of the carriage ease him into a light slumber, arms clutched tightly around his radio and his books.
This isn't New Street Statio-Oh.
Andrew didn't notice the train wasn't heading towards the centre of Birmingham until it stopped at the old Vauxhill station. Andrew looked out the window and didn't recognise the station as he watched everyone disembarking. Curious, he got up, took his belongings, and went to find someone to ask if the train was continuing on to New Street. He left the train and found a conductor on the platform, waving everyone off the train.
"Excuse me, but doesn't this train continue on to New Street?" Andrew asked, approaching the man.
"No, 'course it doesn't. We don't go into that part of town. Got on the wrong train, didya?" the conductor said.
"I-uh, I might have done. I'm sorry. I was in a hurry and I thought this was the right train. Which way to town?" Andrew said. He sort of knew, but it had been a while, and he wasn't familiar where this station was in relation to everything else around town.
"Head west. Follow the train line. And be careful. Not all them Dissenters will be kind to you," the conductor said, indicating the correct direction.
"Thank you, sir. I'll be careful," Andrew said.
The conductor shook his head as he watched Andrew leave. He looked like the sort of kid who'd get held up. Maybe it was what he deserved.
I'm part of the nobility! I demand you get out of my way!
Andrew left the station and began his long journey back home. He would have to go on foot. He didn't see any cabs around, and his bike had been left on the proper train to New Street. He would have to go to the station to collect his things before heading home. At least he didn't have too much to carry. Walking on foot would be acceptable. He'd suffered worse.
With a sigh, he headed off for the centre of town, staying close to the train line. There was nothing much out here but fields and grass. Farmland. He could see the buildings in the distance, but it would take a while to get there. Thankfully, the sky didn't look like it was about to rain on him, and it was a rather pleasant summer day. It wasn't such a bad walk though. The scenery was quite pleasant to look at, and he stopped a while at the edge of one of the canals to take a break and eat. If he was old enough to remember how things used to be, he might've wished for the good old days. All he remembered, however, were the riots, the divisions, and the constant stalemate that had enveloped the town.
He was quite sure everyone on that train had been Dissenters. He hadn't known they had managed to secure a line for themselves. Andrew had only been aware they owned the canals, and that the King had forbidden trains to run to Dissenter camps. Perhaps things had changed, or they'd managed to operate covertly. The whole situation depressed Andrew somewhat. The division and animostity had been going on for more than three decades. Surely some sort of compromise would have been reached by then.
Alas, all that had happened was the town had become split in two, and had gone their separate ways. The centre of town, held by Royalist forces, had been greatly assisted by the King, who had, albeit reluctantly, gifted them manpower, soldiers, and money, along with sole access to the train lines, and the damage done by the terrible rioting in 1791 had finally been repaired.
The two Dissenter camps, situated around the nexus of the canal systems on the eastern and western sides of town, had developed of their own accord. They were beginning to look like proper towns, with houses and roads. Word was they were shipping in supplies and men using the canals under the cover of darkness.
The situation seemed to have remained the same, although it was difficult to tell. As he gazed over at the landscape past the canal, he saw what looked like some sort of giant scrap yard. It had a very odd shape, and looked like some sort of giant fortress. There were no houses or other buildings around it. Perhaps the town down this end of Birmingham had become a walled city, locked inside the scrap yard for protection.
The sound of a steam engine and a boat approaching caught his attention. He clutched his things close, hoping he wouldn't be mugged. he watched them pull up and stop almost directly in front of him. Three lads clambered out and came ashore, surrounding Andrew. They were dressed in dirty clothes, though one had what looked like a captain's hat on, and an eye patch. Andrew assumed he was the leader. The other two wore bandannas. All had swords and pistols tucked into their belts, and none of them looked very friendly at all.
"Well, well, well. What have we here? You ain't one of us, are yer? Whatcha got there?" said the lad wearing the captain's hat.
"Just - things. I got on the wrong train. I would just like to get home," Andrew said.
"Oh, ey? Sure you're not some sort of spy? I hate spies. And Royalist dogs," the captain replied. He leant in close and sneered at Andrew.
"I'm not a spy, I promise. I was just trying to get home. I-I don't catch trains very often. Will you let me go, please? I mean you no harm," Andrew said.
The shorter of the two accomplices approached the captain. "Looks a bit pathetic if you ask me, Jalyn. Doubt he's got anything worth theiving. Let him go. We've got bigger targets."
"Michael, if I wanted your opinion, I'd ask for it. Though he does look rather undernourished. Rich pigs don't look so skinny. Probably wouldn't put up much of a fight though. Alright, off y'go, mate. But don't come here again. I won't be so lenient next time. This here's our land. No one trespasses and goes unpunished," Jalyn said.
Andrew backed away. "Look, I'll just be on my way, shall I? I'm sorry to have disturbed you."
"Yeah, you do that, Royalist scum," Jalyn called after him as Andrew scurried away, remembering to keep to the train line as he went.
The three lads watched him go. Jalyn was annoyed he'd let him get away, but Michael was right. They had bigger targets than the lost children of nobles. Best concentrate their efforts on what they were really working for.
"Y'know, we probably could've stolen that stuff from him. Looked expensive," the third said. He was taller than Michael, but lacked his stocky build. His long hair was pulled into a messy ponytail that hung down his back.
"Oi, Bev, where did you get this taste for expensive things anyway? It ain't right for a man," Michael said, turning to look at him.
"Dunno. Probably all those long hours working in me parent's shop. It was always so pretty in there," Bev said. He forced his grief aside. It had been too long. There was no reason to cry about it now.
"Maybe them rumours were right. Maybe you're really a girl," Michael said with a laugh.
"Knock it off, will you? I've got a better idea than bickering over this," Jalyn said. He wandered back to the boat and thumped the side of the cabin. "Oi, Craig, get yer arse out here."
A moment later, a small slender lad clambered out and stood beside him. "You called, aye?"
"Chase after him, our little lost boy. I want you to stake out his place. Get to know him. Might be worth ransacking later on. Don't let on what you're really doing, either. Repeat that mistake and you'll be drowned in the canals. Now get going," Jalyn said.
With a smack to his head, Craig scampered off, chasing after Andrew as he made his way into town. Andrew didn't even know he was being followed until Craig decided to make his presence known. Little did either know what direction their friendship would really take.
Oh, dickhead, you dropped your wallet!
Andrew became aware of another presence when he was hit in the head with a small stone. He turned to see Craig standing there grinning at him. He didn't know who he was, and didn't remember seeing him with the lads back at the canal. Maybe he'd seen it and followed, though for what purpose he couldn't work out.
"And who might you be? Here to take me by surprise and mug me?" Andrew said.
"Nah, nothing like that. Saw what they did. Mean bastards, aren't they? Least they let you go in once piece. Look, you know where you're going? Cos you look a little lost. I'd be happy to lend a hand, show you the way back. I take it you live in one of them big manors, yeah? Here, lemme carry something for you. Probably not used to having to carry all your things by yourself. Think of me as your new servant. Come on, this way, we're nearly there," Craig said, taking the bad containing the books as he skipped ahead of Andrew.
Andrew stood there, staring after him, before following him as he realised he needed to get his books back. "Hey! Wait up! Give me my bag back!"
Craig skipped along until Andrew caught up. "Knew you'd follow me. So. What's your name?"
"Andrew. Er, who are you?" Andrew said.
"Call me Craig. Don't worry, I know this city like the back of my hand. Or something. Anyway. I can get you home. Come on," Craig said.
Andrew was too surprised by Craig's eagerness to help to refuse him, and they chatted amiably as they walked towards town. Craig proved to be more intelligent than he had appeared, and their discussions were quite interesting. They stopped at New Street station so Andrew could organise for his things to be sent home. Andrew tried to insist he was fine to walk the rest of the way home, but Craig would have none of it, and continued to carry his bag as they walked home.
Andrew's family's estate was grand indeed. They stopped outside the gates and Andrew didn't quite know what to say. Craig handed his bag over and stood there, grinning at him.
"Well. I suppose this is it then. Glad to have been of service, Master Andrew. Maybe we shall meet again?" Craig said, bowing to him.
Andrew blushed. "Uh, maybe. Thank you for your assistance."
Craig leant forward and pecked his cheek before skipping off back towards the city. Andrew watched him go, gently touching the spot where he'd been kissed. Only when he was out of sight did Andrew take his bags and enter his estate, traipsing the long driveway towards the main house.
Home Sweet Home. After a fashion.
Andrew was ready for a long sleep once he arrived home. Once he'd made sure his things had arrived and had been brought to his rooms, he bathed and changed his clothes before even thinking about going to greet his family. He needed the time to clear his head. Just as he was putting the last of his clothes away, his brother William came to see him.
"So. The prodigal son returns," he said, leaning against the door frame.
"Couldn't find an excuse to stay any longer. How are you? It's good to see you again," Andrew said. He smiled and pulled his brother into a warm hug.
William clasped him tight before moving past him to sit on his bed. "Better for seeing you, my dear. I have been ever so lonely without you. Tell me, what have you been learning down in jolly old London?"
"Medicine is ever so tiresome, but I did manage to pass well enough to satisfy our uncle. As for the rest, well, that's my little secret." Andrew smiled.
"You shall tell me all about it, dear brother! I insist on nothing less," William said.
"Close the door. I do not want us overheard," Andrew said.
William left the bed, closed the door, and returned to sit opposite his brother. They were only two years apart, and had always been close. Their older siblings were several years their senior, and had been groomed as heirs since birth. William and Andrew, brothers who had been born to their father's sister before she and their father had been killed, had been adopted by their uncle though they were never really treated as anything other than excess baggage. It had bonded them closer than they had anticipated and they kept few secrets from each other.
"I have been learning magic, William. From the professors at university. Do not tell our uncle, he will not be pleased," Andrew said.
"Magic, you say? How did you convince them to teach you? I thought you must have studied it prior to university to obtain their tuition," William said.
"I have my ways. And my grandfather's books. I have managed to teach myself enough to convince them I was good enough to teach. I took magic lessons while I was studying. And engineering. I have been learning all sorts of things more interesting than medicine," Andrew said.
"Well, you do seem to have a knack for that sort of thing. I really have missed you, brother. It has been very hard to be apart from you for so many years. Do not leave me again, for I do not think I could bear the loneliness. It was unbearable here without you," William said, taking his hand.
"I know, and I wished to return when I had learnt all I could. I am sorry it took so long. I promise not to do so again," Andrew said.
Andrew hugged him again. He had quite forgotten how much he had missed him. Left to their own devices a lot of the time, they had had more freedom than perhaps their own parents might have allowed them. They spent their childhood exploring the grounds of their estate, exploring the ancient wings of their mansion, and generally keeping out of sight. They were never going to inherit, so there seemed no reason for their uncle to bestow the sort of attention on them that he gave to his own children. It didn't seem to matter. Andrew appreciated William's friendship. They had each other. They might not have had their parents, or their uncle and his family, but they had each other, and that meant the world to them.
"You really don't know what it was like here. The war got worse, and our uncle was harder on me. There were riots while you were away, and I had to fight. All I wanted was to be with you instead, rather than be trapped in this insufferable mansion. You must teach me magic, brother, when we are alone. I must learn it. I cannot abide not knowing how to cast it when you yourself have learnt. Our grandfather would be proud of us if we took up his talents," William said.
"I should be pleased to teach you. But not now. We shall set up my workshop again and I shall teach you everything there is to know in the dark of night where we will not be disturbed," Andrew said.
Any typos etc will be fixed up later. XD But yes. Not bad for a day's work. :D
If you wish to tell me how good/bad/WTFy/etc it is, feel free. I'm still working on an overall style here, so it's a little more conversational in parts. So IDK. I suppose it'll turn out how it turns out, steampunk or otherwise. XD
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2009-11-01 08:40 pm (UTC)Are we on each other's nano friend thinger? I'm on there as Nadezhda, what be joo?
Sounds awesome so far X3 I was actually getting into it at the beginning with the dissenters and Royalist Scum, and then I had to start skimming it because I'm totes procrastinating and I need to write a little bit more today and build up my word cushion before I can comfortably procrastinate.
I've got about 2300 words written last night at midnight, hoping to have another 1700 written by the end of today (tis only noon!)
(no subject)
Date: 2009-11-02 03:43 am (UTC)And no, we are not buddies D; I shall add j00. I be sashataakheru. XD
Thanks. It's okay if you skimmed, it's kinda long, and I don't expect all my updates to be this long. XD But yes, glad you liked it. :D And I'm procrastinating as well. Got three assignments due Friday. Are any of them done? No. Of course not. Not when there's NaNo to write. XD
I did another 1500 or so this morning, I'm up to almost 7k. :D I'll let myself work on it again if I get some decent study done this afternoon. :D