Ring Road

Marcus: Here it is ... the national treasure of Austria!
Marcus: The creamy chocolate cake, the buttery ganache, and the delicious apricot jam ...
Marcus: Created by the ingenious apprentice Franz Sacher in 1832, renowned throughout the world ... the dessert of Vienna, Sachertorte!
Marcus: My first time seeing a real one.
At the café's entrance, Marcus's fork holds reluctantly over her mentor's little gift.
Marcus: How should I cut it?
Marcus: If I cut straight, the cake will get mushy. If I cut sideways, I'll miss out on the apricot filling ...
Marcus: What if I eat it in one bite ... No no, how unrefined. The director would scold me for that.
Marcus: I have to think carefully. There must be some other way ...
Marcus: Remember all your training, Investigator Marcus. This is the most important moment of your life! Don't get too excited or you'll ruin it!
Then the fork falls.
Marcus: Oh, no!
As Hofmann cuts the Sachertorte in two with calculated precision.
Hofmann: What?
Marcus: No, nothing ... Thank you for deciding for me ...
The cake rightly is a national treasure, soft and layered with apricot jam. It is consumed in mere moments.
Marcus: *sobs*
Hofmann: What's with the tears, Marcus?
Marcus: Because ...
Marcus: The cake ... is way too sweet ...
The café bustles with others coming and going.
As Hofmann checks her watch now for perhaps the fifteenth time in fewer than as many minutes.
Hofmann: According to the plan, the head of the Vienna branch would pick us up and guide us through the necessary procedures of this era.
Hofmann: But our train was two hours late.
Hofmann: That being the case, our Mr. Karl should have been waiting for two hours, but so far there's no sign of any gentleman in the Foundation's uniform ...
Marcus: So Mr. Karl is also more than two hours late.
Hofmann: A clever deduction. Let us hope otherwise.
Hofmann: I'll go check if he got here before us.
The mentor steps out from under her umbrella's shadow and heads into the café. Left behind, the apprentice looks around aimlessly.
She catches a few key words.
Passerby I: I bet that island is a secret base of the Dual Entente. That's why the Bulgarians are so anxious. They're worried about their exit on the Aegean Sea ...
Passerby I: A friend of mine is in the navy. He saw a ship leaving the harbor loaded with gold ...
Passerby I: War is coming, friend!
Passerby II: No, no! How does that explain the arcane creatures over there?
Passerby II: I'd say it's never been discovered before, like the Celtic Otherworld, you know, the heavenly land beyond the sea in Bran's legend.
Passerby II: The Arcanum has declined after the Enlightenment. It is an honor for all of us in this era to find such a paradise from the past.
Passerby II: You're not fit to be human if you don't understand what that island means to us, my friend!
Marcus: Secret base ... Otherworld ...
Marcus: Fascinating. I need to write this down.
Marcus opens her notebook, jotting down these bits of trivia with a quick and earnest enthusiasm.
Her desire to catch the length and breadth of these comments forces her to lean quite conspicuously until she finds she has become an object of spectacle herself.
Passerby I: ...
Vienna Guard: Miss, could you show me your papers please?
Marcus: Ah, right.
Marcus: ... Erm, sorry. My friend has it. Could you hold on a minute?
Marcus: I am an arcanist sent from the headquarters of the St. Pavlov Foundation. I have a letter of introduction from the head of the Vienna branch ...
Vienna Guard: Arcanist?
Vienna Guard: Then you come with us, miss! Hands up, and be quiet!
Vienna Guard: Bring over the golems! We have an unregistered arcanist!
Marcus: Huh? Huh?!
Hofmann's attention is drawn to the commotion unfolding outside the window.
Hofmann: Marcus ...?!
Marcus: Sir? P-Please listen to me ...
A single misstep causes a mistaken interpretation—a sign of defiance.
Vienna Guard: ...!
Enough to compel these loyal city guardians to fulfill their duty.
Vienna Guard: Don't let her get away!

COMBAT

???: What is happening?
???: At ease, gents! Allow me to explain. This respectable lady is most definitely not a Russian spy!
A portly gentleman with a handlebar mustache hurries over, his forehead glistening with sweat.
???: Ah, Ms. Hofmann. So this lady with the big case is your ... assistant?
???: No spy would be stupid enough to carry an entire case of papers in public. That will be all, gentlemen!
The guards offer their salute before ushering the golems back to their posts.
Hofmann's face is the picture of awkwardness—one that could mark a new entry for this exact situation in the next Field Mission Manual.
Hofmann: The gentlemen in Vienna have become exceedingly sensitive after the infamous espionage cases of 1913.
Hofmann: And their pride was almost destroyed by the Redl case ... The man was even head of counterintelligence, and had a sexual orientation not tolerated in his time. Well, I'm not sure which of the reasons hurt them more.
Hofmann: Sorry, Marcus. I should have told you that, as your supervisor.
Marcus: Mmm ...
She nods but only manages a half-spoken grunt of affirmation.
Hofmann: Hmm, the belief that arcanists cannot cast arcane skills without the ability to speak, so old and superstitious. Like muzzling a dog when it gets out of control.
Hofmann: Can we dispel it now, Mr. Karl?
Karl: I have to remind you, Ms. Hofmann, that theoretically we have to go through an entire approval process before I authorize the dispelling of the mute spell.
Karl: But whatever, who cares! They shouldn't have treated a young lady like that, for whatever reason.
Mr. Karl is a portly and pale man, his appearance punctuated by the scent of punch cards, in every way a representative of the empire's bureaucratic system.
Overall, he seems a pleasant sort of man, despite his position.
Marcus: ... Phew!
Karl: Relax! This was just a minor incident! You'll never find another place as tolerant as Vienna—the very same principles the Foundation strives for!
Karl: All registered arcanists can come and go as they please in this beautiful city! We even offer artists and musicians perks that cover every aspect of their lives, because Vienna loves art and music!
Karl: Oh, speaking of registered arcanists ... Could you show me her arcanum license?
Hofmann: Arcanum license?
Karl: Yes, ladies from the headquarters! Even though I'm more than willing to skip some ... unnecessary procedures for you, we still have to be careful about security, you know, especially when dealing with arcanists.
The portly bureaucrat rubs his hands together slyly. It is evident that he would be no easier to deal with than the golems.
Hofmann: I don't think the headquarters issues such a license. No one told us to apply for one.
Karl: Oh, there must be some mistake! All arcanists entering Europe must possess an arcanum license issued by the local government.
Karl: Austria enacted this policy in 1756. We abolished it in 1868, but we're in the time of great tension, so ... you know.
Karl: Perhaps this lady knows something ... Ms. Marcus?
Marcus: ... Y-Yes?
Karl: You are an arcanist, even though you're sent by the headquarters, correct? Show it to me then, your arcanum license.
Hofmann's brow furrows. This then is what it looks like when those in power wish to exert their authority.
But the more pressing crisis here is that there would be no way to produce an authentic paper from 1914 without adequate preparation.
Hofmann: Marcus is my assistant on this mission, Mr. Karl. She is not to answer your questions directly, given her rank and status.
Hofmann: It is me, the one in charge, that you should turn to, not my assistant.
Karl: Oh, lady from headquarters, don't get me wrong. I didn't mean to usurp your authority! It's not an issue. You didn't have to ...
Marcus: I-I have it!
Hofmann: ...?
Marcus hands over a slip of paper from her pocket.
Marcus: Here.
Karl: Oh ... Huh!
Mr. Karl bursts into a series of protracted sighs.
Marcus: Erm, is everything ok, Mr. Karl? Is it not acceptable ...?
Karl: Oh yes, it's a perfectly good license. I can even smell the ink from the government office! Welcome to Vienna, Ms. Arcanist from Romania!
Karl: You should have shown it to me sooner. It would have saved us a lot of trouble.
The portly man smiles as he returns the permit to Marcus, who seems as though she has just stepped off a rocking boat.
Marcus: Erm, I'm so sorry to have wasted your time ...
Hofmann: Speaking of which, no offense, but you are two hours and fifteen minutes late, Mr. Karl.
The apprentice's apology is cut short, as she is taken aback by her mentor's dramatic shift in tact.
Karl: My apologies. The Minister of Finance and I had a little too much at lunch. Well, your train was late, too, wasn't it?
Hofmann: You were having lunch when you were supposed to be here? We agreed to ...
Karl: Relax, lady from the headquarters! You're just not used to the pace around here.
Karl: Look at this industrialization and so-called modern designs. They have turned our beloved city and our carefree life into a cold, impersonal machine.
Karl: Please forgive the train staff, the sewer workers, and the plumbers! It is their right to be a little "unpunctual," and enforcing this right is a symbol of our free will ...
Karl: In the end, you didn't wait too long, and I got to enjoy my lunch. It all worked out, right?
Hofmann remains unswayed and indignant, while behind her Marcus hangs her head.
Clearly, Mr. Karl's joy is his alone.
Karl: So, why was your train late?
Hofmann: It crashed into a deer, a deer with free will.
Karl: Oh. Tragic.
Karl: Alright. Forgive this old Karl for his minor mistake, ladies. The rumors about the Golden Isle had kept the branch busy. There was no one else but me to pick you up.
Karl: It wouldn't have been so embarrassing if headquarters had sent us manpower instead of taking it from us.
Hofmann: I'm also on the job, Mr. Karl. Should I include your complaints in the report?
Karl: No no no, that's okay.
Karl: It's just a group of lunatics banished to an island. They are arcane criminals from a small country, and people will forget about them in less than a month.
Karl: Only a few would believe that it has any real influence on Vienna, you know, the young artists who think highly of themselves, the schemers with evil plans, and the conspiracy theorists suffering from neurasthenia.
Karl: The Magyars and the Bohemians are already giving us a headache ... Arcanists? They are not at all the Empire's top ethnic concern!
Marcus: But aren't you in charge of the registration and management of arcanists?
Karl: Well, first of all, isn't my loyalty to His Majesty and the Empire?
Karl: Before you use the title, "Head of the Vienna Branch," to define me, I am first and foremost an honored citizen of Vienna, and I serve our great Emperor, lady!
Marcus: And I thought you said this was a tolerant city ...
Karl: Oh yes, we are responsible for dealing with the problems caused by the arcanists, just as we deal with the Magyars and the Bohemians.
Mr. Karl swings his cane and strides forward cheerfully.
Karl: Alright, that's the venerable Vienna branch of the St. Pavlov Foundation over there. Let's go!
Marcus touches her left cheek, still warm from the touch of the mute incantation.
Marcus: Mr. Karl is ... very different from the staff of the headquarters ...
Hofmann: In fact, most of the time the branch members aren't comrades who share the same goals with us. They're more like ... local officials we have to deal with.
Hofmann: We need them as a buffer between the Foundation and the local governments. They can help us maintain peace in the human world.
Hofmann: But you can't ask too much of them. Not all of them are cosmopolitans. Most of them put their Emperor and their country first.
Hofmann: That's why we shouldn't disclose classified information to them.
Hofmann: ... Does it still hurt?
Marcus: Um? It feels much better now!
Hofmann: Good.
The mentor swings around as if on a swivel, with a face of plain curiosity.
Hofmann: ... Marcus, did you already have that license before you joined the Foundation?
Marcus: Yes. Austria abolished that policy in 1868, but Romania did not until 1913 ...
Marcus: I carried it with me out of habit. Thank goodness I did.
Marcus: This is indeed the era I'm from ... That time has returned.
Hofmann: Never disclose any information about the "Storm" or the "era" to irrelevant people.
The apprentice halts her speech, cowed by Hofmann's warning.
Hofmann: Put away your license. We need to catch up with Karl.
Hofmann: Remember my words, Marcus: never trust anyone, even if they're a branch member of the Foundation.

Open your eyes to see the future that we know?

Razor in Green

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