Pascale Auber & the Ruritanian Riddle

I The Airship - 1

The airship lurched under my feet as I pulled open the desk drawer. I could feel the ship angle upwards and hear her dumped ballast-water splashing down to the pavement somewhere below. I muttered something unprintable under my breath. A row of evenly-spaced portholes lined two walls of the small office; looking through the nearest I could see that I was running out of time – the ship was starting to tug against her mooring lines and rise.

I rifled through the drawer's contents, rapidly pushing aside a case of spare pen nibs and a quarter ream of smooth, creamy paper. There had to be something here, something that proved there was a connection between the recent spate of bombings in the metropolis and Dr. Roderick Simpelstur, owner of this particular aerostatic ship. Failing that, I was willing to settle for something proving a connection between Simpelstur and his supposed handler, the perfidious young heir to the Ruritanian throne, Archduke Ruprecht.

The ship lurched again as her engine kicked to life. I could feel beads of sweat forming on my brow, but my fingers fell upon an envelope, cut open roughly but with its contents still tucked within. A quick glance confirmed that it was addressed to Simpelstur, and had been closed with a wax seal of distinctive design. A red rose pierced by a sword is a device used only by one country in Europe – Ruritania. I could feel the ship rising, faster now, and stuffed the envelope into my reticule, turning to leave.

It was then that I heard the cabin door open.