Work Text:
“Come, let’s discuss this privately,” Longspot Gotch said, leading Ourorobos Codswallop out of the drawing room where most of his sons still lingered. Wasting time as usual. He might have invited Samwell to gain deeper insight into the situation, but he had left already. At least one of his seven sons had managed to inherit some sense of responsibility.
“Your sons look… well,” Codswallop said diplomatically.
“Let it never be said that I didn’t uphold the proud traditions of the Gotch family,” Longspot muttered, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “But traditions are expensive.”
“Indeed.”
Longspot closed the door behind them and poured two small glasses of his finest brandy before offering Codswallop a chair. The two sat on opposite sides of the massive oak desk that had been passed down for generations. “Now. You mentioned… Lord Mordecestershire.” His nose wrinkled in disgust.
“Yes, in the years since your father’s death Professor Macleod was searching for other sources of funding, and she turned to the Ministry of Deranged Sciences.”
“Sucked my father dry and went looking for another easy handout,” Longspot muttered. He’d hoped his dealings with Mordecestershire were over.
“Quite so. It seems the professor used a few of her deeds to leverage funding from the Ministry, although they were technically in your hands. He reached out to me last week, hoping to get some closure on those deeds.”
“Then Mordecestershire should have done his due diligence at the time,” Longspot snapped. “He engages in sloppy business deals and then expects me to tidy up his blunders?”
“In any case, he wishes to meet with you at your earliest convenience to discuss a resolution to these problems.”
Longspot sighed. “Well I can’t very well leave our finances tangled up in the professor’s mess. Very well. Can you arrange a meeting today? I’d like to not drag this out any longer than necessary.”
“Of course.” Codswallop threw back the remainder of his drink and coughed as he stood. “I’ll do so immediately and gather your pertinent documents.”
“Excellent. I will drag this family back into good standing, even if it means dealing with the worst dregs of society.” He paused, thinking of everyone his father had funded over the years. “…Which, regrettably, is another tradition of the Gotch family.”
“If you’ll excuse my saying so… perhaps not every tradition needs to be upheld,” Codswallop said delicately.
“Certainly not if they end up bankrupting us,” Longspot muttered, shaking his head.
*
“Darling, you’re only making your frown lines worse,” murmured Aurelia Gotch, reaching up to rub a cream onto Longspot’s forehead. He waved her away irritably.
“This isn’t the time, Aurelia. I have plenty to frown about right now, in case you hadn’t noticed!”
“And you can’t have guests like Lord Mordecestershire knowing that, can you?” she scolded him gently. “Don’t let him think he’s rattled you.”
“You’re right, of course,” Longspot muttered, stilling to let her apply the cream. “This is all Father’s fault. He left me with a complete disaster to sort out. He should never have funded Professor Macleod’s vacations in the first place, then she wouldn’t be my problem…”
“You’ll sort it out, I’m sure.” Aurelia glanced at Ouroboros Codswallop, who stood nearby watching the door. “Shall I have the staff prepare some refreshments?”
“No,” Longspot snapped. “I don’t want to encourage him to stay one instant past what is necessary.”
“Of course.”
“Ah, there’s his motorcarriage now,” Codswallop said.
“I’ll leave you to it,” Aurelia said, patting her husband’s hand. “You know I faint when there’s too much talk of finances.”
“Of course, my dear. …I doubt all of the boys will return before tomorrow. Have the staff prepare that wild boar tenderloin for dinner.”
She leaned in to kiss him, doing so just before she made contact with his cheek, and headed to the kitchens. When she’d spoken to the staff, she slipped back up to lounge in the second floor drawing room. She lay on the fainting couch near the window, and quietly slid a panel open low in the wall, then reached through to slide open a panel in the next wall, just behind some books in her husband’s study. Then she opened a book and let her eyes slide out of focus as she listened to the conversation in the next room.
*
“Lord Gotch!” Lord Kensington Cosgrove Mordecestershire strolled through the door, smiling pleasantly. “I was so pleased to receive your invitation. So good to see you again.”
Longspot didn’t smile, but he didn’t correct the title either. “Lord Mordecestershire. Thank you for coming so quickly. I hope we can sort out this sorry business for good and this will be our last meeting.”
Mordecestershire’s smile thinned. “Oh, the Ministry takes great interest in our peers in the field of industry. That certainly includes those on the financial side. I’ve found it’s best not to burn the most advantageous bridges in life, wouldn’t you agree?”
“Our business in the past has been strictly limited to the division of Comfrey Macleod’s allotment from each of our coffers. After her disappearance, I expect that to conclude rather swiftly,” Longspot said stiffly. “If you’d care to join me in my study, we can sort this out.”
“Please, lead the way.”
Longspot once again poured brandy for his guests, though less than he had before. There were three glasses now after all, and Mordecestershire certainly didn’t need his quite as full as Codswallop, who was actually useful to the family.
“Ah, your taste is impeccable.” Mordecestershire took a small sip, savoring the liquid. “And how is your family? Is your wife well?”
“She’s quite engrossed in her needlepoint.” Longspot waved his question away. …Was Aurelia still doing needlepoint? She had at some point. “My sons are out reclaiming the Macleod assets as we speak. I expect to have everything settled in a day or two.”
“Mm. So useful to have so many trustworthy family members. Almost makes me wish I had taken the family route, but alas, science holds my heart.” His smile had a hint of superiority about it.
“I’ve collected my records, and Mr. Codswallop is here to witness our settlement.” Longspot gestured to the papers spread over his desk.
Mordecestershire looked down, scanning the notes. His gaze paused a few times. “Splendid,” he murmured. “I had hoped to discuss another item of business with you first, however.”
“I’m afraid I have my hands quite full at the moment, as you can see,” Longspot said irritably.
“Of course. What I see here is a man who is scrambling to salvage what he can from a whole mess of ruinous investments.” Mordecestershire glanced up, smiling mildly at Longspot’s growing snarl. “I just thought I could offer a little assistance. One businessman to another.”
“I’m not interested in borrowing money from the Ministry,” Longspot spat.
“Oh, I’m not speaking of borrowing or lending.” Mordecestershire laughed lightly. “Not in the traditional sense. No, I refer to outright earning. I think we can help each other. As I said, I’m a man of science. Gaining wealth isn’t my goal. But I can’t deny, progress isn’t possible without funding. Through our past funding of Professor Macleod’s expeditions, I’ve come to believe that she has discovered a vast supply of untapped resources. Think of it: The opportunity for limitless profit.”
Longspot clasped the arms of his chair, torn between the desire to get rid of this distasteful man who was spreading a putrid smell in his office, and the idea of increased profit. “What are you talking about?”
Mordecestershire swirled his glass slowly. “There are some documents I expect to find in the captain’s quarters of the Zephyr. Worthless to anyone else, but if I have access to them I can make you the richest man in Gath.”
Longspot narrowed his eyes, leaning back and crossing his arms to hide how his hands were suddenly trembling. “I’m listening.”
“What do you know of the mythical twenty-eighth continent of Zood?”
The atmosphere quickly chilled. Ouroboros Codswallop frowned, glancing between the two.
“I’m sorry, I thought I was speaking with a man of science and reason,” Longspot said coldly. “Not some sky-eyed quack.”
Mordecestershire stood calmly. “I thought the same, but I have reason to believe Professor Macleod may be there now. Imagine, an entire world untouched by civilization. Can you envision all the natural resources there? Minerals, lumber, fuel…” He paused. “…Not to mention, any inhabitants there would have no access to the resources or economy of Gath. None but those of us who bring it to them, of course. And thus you would be able to set your price.” He smiled, as pleasantly as he could. “Is the Zephyr here?”
Longspot stared at him for a long moment. “Regrettably, Lord Mordecestershire, I am hardly in a position to fund yet another wild goose chase.”
The withered man laughed. “The Ministry has no need to beg for funding from the Gotch Family. I am not asking you for money.” He spread his white-gloved hands. “I seek only information that will allow us to get there. And I say us, because in exchange for that information I am offering you passage to Zood as well. Once there, no one will be able to stop you from claiming all the treasures of Zood for yourself.”
Longspot’s heart was pounding, but he took a deep breath and forced himself to remain calm. “Surely you plan to keep some of it for yourself. What would be the point of going through all this effort for no reward?”
Mordecestershire smiled. “Lord Gotch, as I’m sure you’re aware, the Ministry is quite well-funded. I have no need of… treasures. I seek only knowledge. Knowledge of the land of Zood. …Knowledge of how to get there. Would you permit me to look around the Zephyr? I’ll do so under your supervision, if you like. No shady business here, I promise.”
There had to be some kind of trick going on here. There was no reason to explore without the promise of profit. …But the promise of limitless profit was too tempting to ignore. Longspot stood.
“Very well. The Zephyr is anchored at our private dock.”
“Ah… should I accompany you?” asked Ouroboros Codswallop.
“No, you may return to your office.” Longspot waved him away. He’d be no help at all if anything went south with Mordecestershire. “We’ll be in touch soon.”
Longspot led Mordecestershire out towards the docks. He noted a curtain fluttering in the drawing room window. Probably his wife or one of their daughters-in-law.
“When did you last see the professor?”
“It was around two and a half months ago,” Mordecestershire mused, stroking his withered chin. “Not the longest period of time she’s disappeared, even in the past few years I’ve been working with her, but generally there’s someone somewhere who’s seen her recently.”
“Have you been looking for her?”
“Not urgently. As I said, this isn’t unusual for her. …But I would certainly like to speak to her soon.”
“Yes, as would I,” Longspot muttered. “If she’s still alive. Which I highly doubt.”
Mordecestershire shrugged. “Well, you may be right. …I must confess, I’m quite excited to see the Zephyr. I had the chance to tour Macleod’s new vessel – the Zephyr Mark II – but the original is so iconic. Perhaps it’s just my sentimental streak.”
“My advice as a businessman is to crush that sentimental streak,” Longspot said flatly. “It will not benefit you in any field.” Though the man looked older than him, he spoke as if he were closer to Maxwell’s age. Too much enthusiasm, not enough dignity.
“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with enjoying your work.” Mordecestershire said, smiling mildly. He looked over the low hill where the docks were coming into view at the rear of the property. “…Where is it, by the way?”
“What are you talking about?”
“The Zephyr?”
Longspot looked, and did a double take, inhaling sharply. He lengthened his stride, stalking down towards the docks with Mordecestershire at his heels. There were a few employees in bright blue and red with gold trim walking around. No one seemed distressed.
“Who is the commanding officer on duty?” Longspot snapped. A couple of younger employees jumped and stared at him before scuttling off. One of the captains hurried out of the office before Longspot reached the door and quickly saluted. “Where is the Zephyr?”
The captin blinked at him. “Sir, Captain Dawderdale and her crew took Masters Wealwell and Maxwell to Pilby in the Zephyr earlier today, as you ordered.”
“You idiot, I never ordered that! It’s an antique, a collector’s item! I told Maxwell to travel in a Karakamachi blimp! Wealwell should have taken a separate blimp to the South Pole!”
“Forgive me sir, they said –“
“You can’t identify such a transparent lie?”
“Oh dear,” Mordecestershire murmured. Longspot twitched, having forgotten about him for a moment. “How unfortunate.”
“I’m sorry –“ the captain tried again.
“Get out,” Longspot snapped. “Pack your belongings and get out. I refuse to employ someone who allows a pair of irresponsible children to run off… joyriding with my property.” He whirled and stalked away from Captain Throgmorton, who stared after him in horror.
“They went to Pilby, you said?” Mordecestershire demanded. “I need that information or there will be no rewards for you to claim and your family will fall into ruin!”
“Hold your tongue!” Longspot snarled. “With all your funding and resources, surely you can track down an old boat of a skyship like the Zephyr. It certainly wasn’t built for speed, and it’s been sitting for years. I’d be surprised if it reached Pilby.”
“For your sake, I hope it did,” Mordecestershire snapped. “Or at least that Macleod’s notes are salvageable. You certainly wouldn’t want to lose two fortunes.” He turned and strode away.
“Where are you going?”
“I’m going to find the Zephyr. I’ll certainly let you know what state it’s in when I do.”
As the Minister of Deranged Science stalked back up to the manor, Aurelia watched through a gauzy curtain.
“You’re very interested in the lawn today, Mother,” said Patience, Samwell’s wife. She’d followed from the drawing room.
“It’s a lovely day,” Aurelia said quietly. She could feel her daughter-in-law’s sharp stare on the back of her neck.
“Would you like to go take a walk together in the sunshine?”
“Not just now, I think.” She glanced back. Most of her other daughters-in-law were focused on their own quiet pursuits, heads down, but she had no doubt they were listening. “Perhaps later.”
“Later,” Patience agreed flatly, fingers twitching on her embroidery needle.
*
“Good evening.” Samwell nodded politely to the driver of the motorcar parked outside the manor as he walked up to the door. “…Are you here on business?”
“Yes.” The driver, seemingly completely hairless inside some sort of suit, kept his eyes forward.
“Would you like to come inside?”
“No.”
“May I ask who you drove here?”
“Lord Kensington Cosgrove Mordecestershire.”
“Ah.” That couldn’t be good. Samwell looked around. He could see Blanewell coming up the drive, with two small flying crafts coming down on the far end of the lawn, away from the docks for quick landing and takeoff. Best to get to Father before they did. “Thank you.” He headed inside. Father would likely be in his study.
Blanewell Gotch had spotted Samwell talking to the driver hanging out in the motorcarriage from a distance, and he’d definitely seen the others coming back. He smoothed back his dark hair and sauntered up, knocking on the window. The driver rolled down his window again.
“Here to see Father?” he asked, leaning on the carriage.
“Lord Mordecestershire is here to speak with Longspot Gotch.”
“Mm.” Mordecestershire wasn’t a good sign. Blanewell smiled. “Do all you ministry folk run around in a full diving suit?”
“I require Widow’s Breath to breathe.”
“Yeah?” Blanewell ran a finger across the glass dome over the man’s head, then looked closer. “I guess it fits better if you shave everything off, hm?”
The man looked up at him. “I never shave.”
“…Oh?”
“Externally, I am completely hairless.”
Blanewell straightened his cocked hip and leaned back a bit. “Really? Were you – no, you wouldn’t have been… born that way. Have you always lived in Widow’s Breath? How long did it take for you to lose your hair?”
“I have never had any hair on my body.”
“Fascinating. And – wait, you said ‘externally?’” He leaned in again. “Do you – does it grow… internally?”
“This is normal for us.”
Blanewell leaned closer, almost touching the glass dome. “Can I see it from your mouth?” he whispered, eyes wide.
The man’s eyes suddenly looked past him, and Blanewell’s face was shoved hard into the glass. If he hadn’t already been so close it might have broken his nose.
“Just kiss him already, Blanewell!” Hatwell jeered.
“Hatwell!” Blanewell hissed, squirming out of his grip. “Can’t mind your own business, can you?”
“You weren’t being very private about your depraved appetites, brother.” Hatwell smirked.
“I was merely saying that my hair grows –“
Hatwell slammed the man’s glass helmet down into the passenger seat. “Was I speaking to you?”
“I – I thought –“
“You wouldn’t know a thought if it hit you in the face.” Hatwell punched the glass as the driver began to sit up.
“Hatwell, stop that,” Roywell snapped, striding up to them.
“Shut up Roywell, this doesn’t concern you.”
“You’re bullying random servants now?”
“He drove Lord Mordecestershire here,” Blanewell said quickly.
“Oh I’m sure Father would love it if his business deal was ruined because you were harassing his business partner’s servant,” Roywell drawled.
“I didn’t do anything to him,” Hatwell scoffed, kicking the door.
“You can’t just terrorize people as much as you like as long as it doesn’t leave a mark,” Blanewell said, straightening his black and white ascot.
“Why not? His word against mine, I think mine carries considerably more weight,” Hatwell scoffed.
“It doesn’t always work that way, Hatwell,” Roywell growled. “And in case you hadn’t noticed, we aren’t in a position to hand off a handful of marks to make someone forget a slight.”
“Ah, a whole gaggle of Gotches.” They looked up, affronted, as Lord Kensington Cosgrove Mordecestershire strode towards the car. “Forgive me for not staying to chat. I’m in rather a rush.” He slid into the motorcarriage and slammed the door behind him.
“What’s he all in a tizzy over?” Blanewell murmured as they all watched the carriage leave.
“Whatever it is, hopefully it went better for Father,” Roywell said. All three stood in silence for a long moment. Hatwell’s shoulders slowly lowered. “Did you get what you were sent to find?”
“Everything he asked for,” Blanewell murmured.
“Of course,” Hatwell said. “I only wish I’d had more time to spend in the islands.”
“You could have,” Blanewell pointed out. “You could’ve probably gotten away with an overnight, it’s far enough away. I certainly didn’t rush back.”
“I wasn’t going to keep him waiting,” Hatwell muttered. “I take my familial duties seriously.”
“We all do,” Roywell sighed. “Are the others inside already?”
“I saw Samwell go in,” Blanewell offered.
“Always first,” Hatwell mumbled, shaking his head.
“Did Wealwell really go with Maxwell to Pilby?” Roywell asked.
“I guess.” Blanewell shrugged. “They’d take twice as long, then. And Wealwell had to go all the way to the South Pole.”
“And Johnwell’s still out in – what, Bellenuit?” Hatwell made a face. “He was always slow.”
“Bellenuit’s on the other side of the world, I doubt he’s dawdling,” Blanewell pointed out. “And that property probably took a bit more negotiation than most of ours did.”
“Either way, we can all agree that Maxwell and Wealwell will find some way to fuck it up twice over,” Hatwell said.
The other two shared a look. …He wasn’t wrong.
“What are you three doing?”
All three jumped. Longspot stalked across the lawn towards them.
“Father! We just arrived, we were –“ Roywell began.
“I saw you, lollygagging out here like common riffraff. Get inside,” Longspot snarled.
They hurried to the door, which Samwell opened from inside just as Blanewell was reaching for the handle.
“Oh –“ the oldest brother began.
“Samwell,” Longspot cut him off, pushing past his younger sons. “I do hope you, at least, haven’t proved to be a complete disappointment.”
“Father, I have all my paperwork signed,” Hatwell spoke up quickly.
“Hatwell, I am in no mood right now,” Longspot snarled. He caught Samwell’s arm and sharply pulled up towards the stairs. Samwell cast an apologetic look at his brothers as he scrambled to keep up with their father’s furious pace. He nodded to his mother down the hall when they got to the second floor, though his father ignored her and slammed the study door closed behind them before turning to his heir.
“I dearly hope you’ve returned with good news, Samwell.”
“Yes, Father,” Samwell said, making an effort to keep his voice low and calm in hopes that Father would fall into the same tone. “I took inventory of the Eisengeist laboratory and got the city officials to notarize our ownership. The locks have been changed. There’s a lot of large equipment there, I thought it best to leave it stored there, and when we’re ready to auction it off it will be more convenient to have it in Eisengeist.”
Longspot exhaled slowly, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Thank you, Samwell. I knew I could count on you, at least.”
“…It sounds like the others were successful as well,” Samwell offered.
His father waved away his words. “Were you aware that Maxwell stole the Zephyr from the docks?”
Samwell choked. “What? No!”
“I don’t know what he’s playing at, but if he damages that ship its value will decrease dramatically.” He shook his head sharply. “It’s depreciated just leaving the docks! I fully expect that the engines will fail over the sea. I swear, he always chooses the most inconvenient form of defiance.”
Samwell stared at him. “We have to go after him, if it’s not skyworthy!”
“Believe me, he’ll answer for his poor choices,” Longspot growled. “I’m through with his rowdy behavior and refusal to behave appropriately. If he continues to insist upon defying my every word, he can see how he likes it when he’s cut off.”
“I – I mean if he’s in danger, he may need help,” Samwell tried again, keeping his tone reasonable. “…And if something’s happened to him and we can help him, he may be more likely to listen in the future,” he said quickly. “He’s hot-headed, but he’s willing to see reason, Father. He’s not defying you for the sake of defiance.”
“Samwell, your coddling will not benefit Maxwell. He’s an adult, he needs to learn that there are consequences to his actions.” Longspot frowned at him. “I met with the Minister of Deranged Sciences while you were out. He made a very tempting offer that I’m inclined to accept, he just wanted access to some documents in the Zephyr. You can imagine my humiliation when we reached the docks and it was gone. Now he believes I have no idea and no control over what goes on on my own property! Maxwell has made me look like a fool in front of a government authority.”
“That’s… certainly a point to bring up to him once we know he’s safe,” Samwell said slowly.
“I’m ready to wash my hands of that boy,” Longspot sighed. “As much as it pains me to say so, perhaps it’s time to reevaluate some of the proud traditions of the Gotch family so that your generation doesn’t continue the mistakes that mine has perpetuated. Seven sons is rather excessive.”
“I – I agree, I think it shouldn’t be… compulsory, but I certainly wouldn’t… That doesn’t make the seventh a mistake. Or any of us. Maxwell’s strong-willed, but he’s strong and that will serve him well in life,” Samwell insisted, trying to remain reasonable.
“Not the only one, at the very least,” Longspot muttered, glancing towards the door as Hatwell’s voice rose downstairs.
“Father…” Samwell hesitated, scrambling to come up with the most reasonable way to offer his thoughts. “We’re going through a troubling time. Perhaps this is a good opportunity to offer my brothers a chance to prove themselves. They’re all successful in their respective fields.”
“You know the bribes I had to offer simply to get them all into university,” Longspot snarled. “And many of their careers as well!”
“Yes, but many of those bribes were offered before they had the chance to be accepted on their own merits.”
“What merits?” Longspot scoffed.
“Father,” Samwell admonished.
“I’m sorry, Samwell. This has been a trying day, and I’m in no mood to be reasonable.”
“I understand, Father. Please give them a chance, though. All of them. I think they’ll exceed your expectations.”
“That wouldn’t be difficult.” Longspot turned and took a shot of brandy, looking out the window at the distant skyship docks.
Samwell frowned disapprovingly. Hopefully Father would see reason once he’d had some time to calm down.