Aethunium - A Steampunk Story - Chapter 1 and 2

Aethunium

A short ‘steampunk’ story by Kirk Haggerty

Chapter One

Cologne, Germany

December 26th, 1899

Rupert Mueller, Freiherr von Landheim, watched with a careful eye as his daughter Victoria rode the pony. She held the reins tight - the pony started to move toward a small creek that wound through the garden. He feared that either she or the animal would panic.

“Turn right,” he said. Victoria was still wearing her Christmas dress after coming back from church that morning. It was only her second time riding the pony she’d received as a present yesterday.

The little girl obeyed and with no effort or fear, manoeuvred the pony away from the rocky creek, returning to the stall and a waiting servant. Her father was proud of her; he was certain one day Victoria would be one of the finest riders in Germany. He went over to help her dismount.

“Well done,” he said, swinging her in his arms and giving a kiss on the cheek. Victoria snuggled against her father’s full beard as she rested in his strong arms. The servant took the pony back to the stall adjacent to the great manor house of the Mueller family.

The Landheim Manor - a two-storey idyllic "Herrenhaus" - was painted yellow and white, with slate roof tiles, and high windows on both east and west wings. It was surrounded by fields and orchards, with the main road to the manor passing through a row of maple trees.

“She’s a lovely pony, isn’t she, Papa?”

“The best there is,” he said. “With red hair just like yours.”

“My hair is redder.”

“So, have you given her a name?” he asked, still holding her in his arms.

“I like Mimi the best.”

Mueller admired Victoria’s curly locks of red hair, which reminded him of her mother when they first met.

“So Mimi it is,” he answered. He was distracted when he saw the house butler approaching him with a serious look on his face. Mueller lowered Victoria to the ground. “You better get ready for lunch; I might need to go.”

“Not again, Papa.”

The servant called out, “Herr Mueller, your commanding officer has requested your presence immediately - urgent business.”

He sighed. “You see what I mean, my dear,” he said to Victoria, and then faced the butler. “I’m on my way.” Mueller stood a head taller than the other man; his mannerism and poise revealed unique European nobility. “Take Victoria in the house. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“Ja, mein Herr.”

Mueller rounded the corner of his mansion, his boots kicking up gravel as he opened the garage gates. Inside was his pride and joy – A Benz Motorwagon: a three-wheeled vehicle with a two-stroke piston engine behind the seat.

Near his work bench was his fur jacket, which he put on. He took a crank from the work bench, inserted it behind the wagon and started the engine with only one arm: he smiled in satisfaction as he listened to the sound of the crankshaft and pistons going off like clockwork. Then he opened the retractable wings on both sides of the wagon. The Benz now resembled a bat with wings spread wide.

He knelt and peered under the seat to check the level of the fuel canister, and then flipped open the lid on the box containing the Gravitium. The blue crystals that allowed the car to float on air glinted dully in the muted light of the garage.