Chapter Text
Vilhem Vonka, mysterious recluse, legendary chocolatier, master confectioner, peerless gastronomic spark, holder of The Freedom of Paris, an honorary Master of The British Empire, an unrestricted Venetian Trade Charter, holder of sixteen honorary and four other doctorates; Raj Ratna of Pondicherry, Member of The Order of The Anodized Spur, retired from consideration and granted honorary number zero by The Art of Eating's Dinner Committee, and owner of an official "Do NOT Kill This Man" card signed by none other than Saturnus Heterodyne himself, sat at his desk, staring at the list of names.
It was risky, but if he had wanted to hand groom his successor then he should have started years ago. Decades even. No, it would have to be this way. He'd carefully culled the list down from its initial sixty three all the way down to four, four sparks who were young, strong, independent and above all noble enough to consider being given his mantle. Now, with their invitations dispatched by confidential couriers riding on The Corbettite's fastest and most direct trains all he could do was wait, and hope.
He leafed through the other documents on his desk, reports, formulations, expenses, the accident book, it all ended up here. A whole chocolate empire run through the switchboard that was, at the end of the day, little more than a slab of re-enforced Glycyrrhiza glabra root, sugar and gelatin. Then he found them, the spare invitations. He's had them run off a dozen, it was hardly worth bringing the boilers to pressure for fewer, and had kept the spares in case he had a sudden inspiration or change of heart. Still, best not to leave them lying around. He started to chew one, its warm, subtle flavours calming his nerves, and re-read the message printed on another.
"Greetings to you from The Great V. Vonka! I shake you warmly by the hand! Tremendous things are in store for you! Many wonderful surprises await you! For now, I do invite you to come to my factory and be my guest for one whole day - you and several other fortunate recipients of these gilded invitations. I, V. Vonka, will conduct you around the factory myself, showing you everything that there is to see, and afterwards, when it is time to leave, you will be escorted home via one of my private airships. This airship will be loaded with enough delivious eatables to last you and your entire household for many years. If, at any time thereafter, you should run out of supplies, you have only to come back to the factory and show this gilded invitation, and I shall be happy to refill your cupboard with whatever you want. In this way, you will be able to keep yourself supplied with tasty morsels for the rest of your life. But this is by no means the most exciting thing that will happen on the day of your visit. I am preparing other surprises that are even more marvellous and even more fantastic for you and for all my beloved guests - mystic and marvellous surprises that will entice, delight, intrigue, astonish and perplex you beyond measure. In your wildest dreams you could not imagine such things could happen to you! Just wait and see! And now, here are your instructions: the day I have chosen for the visit is the first day of the month of February. On this day, and on no other, you must come to the factory gates at ten o'clock sharp in the morning. Don't be late! And you are allowed to bring with you either one or two members of your own retinue to ensure that you don't get into mischief. One more thing - be certain to have this invitation with you, otherwise you will not be admitted."
He carefully chewed his way through seven copies, each as perfectly textured and spiced as the last, then found himself at a loss. Where was the eighth spare? What had happened to it? It wasn't misfiled, it hadn't slid into the accident book, he tore through the entirety of his papers, searched the floor, the ceiling, the inside of his plum top hat (cinnamon flavour, he hated plums), it was nowhere to be found. Terriefied, ice creeping down his spine, he rang the bell on his desk that summoned his secretary, Umnut.
"Yes my most magnificent Master." Umnut's voice, much like the tiny man himself, seemed to ooze out of thin air behind him. Vonka had long ago given up trying to work out why he never heard the man open the door. He'd been a, gift, bestowed upon him during his time in India.
"Umnut, you recall the dozen invitations I had prepared?"
"Yes oh delectably diligent Doctor."
"There were twelve, but I can only find seven now. Well, I say find." He picked a fragment of one from his teeth by way of explanation.
"Very good, oh knowledgeably numerate noble-one."
"No Umnut, there's one missing. A document that grants access to this very facility, this exact factory, is missing."
"Not so my poor panicking patriarch. Sixty four files you requested, fifty nine you returned, five therefore you elected and five invitations did we duly send."
"FIVE! No, no, no, no! Four! FOUR! See the list here?" He waved the list in Umnut's face. Umnut waited a moment and, when it became clear that the list would not stop on its own, gently tugged it from his master's hand.
"Four names are unredacted here my overworked overexcited overlord, but nevertheless five files were placed in the designated location for your selection."
"But, how, wait, no, no I asked for that file for a different reason, it was never, it can't be, please. Umnut, who have we invited who isn't on this list?"
"My disastrously disordered despot, that would be the second child of The Dread House of Heterodyne."
"Laurentius Heterodyne, the Dark Banker. Is there any chance..."
"The couriers cannot be intercepted my majorly misfortuned master, at your express command."
"In, in, in that case, we shall simply have to make do. Tell, tell, tell everyone. We must adapt, alter our plans, go to high alert."
"Yes, my peerlessly patient potentate." And then Vonka was alone, Umnut vanishing about his task. In a little over two months they would have The Dread House of Heterodyne at their door, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.
-----
Laurentius Heterodyne arrived at breakfast just behind his mother, the legendary Agatha Heterodyne. They sat, perched at either end of the dining table, while servants brought them a hot breakfast of eggs and bacon. Normally breakfast in Castle Heterodyne was a noisy affair, even when certain younger sisters insisted on eating in bed, but at present most of the family were off adventuring, leaving just the two of them. Laurentius' once bleak face had fleshed out a little but his overall countenance was still grim and slender. He'd recently experimented with a goatee to try and extenuate his cheekbones and jawline, but his hair was too pale for the effect to be entirely successful.
"Doing anything interesting Lars dear?" Agatha raised her voice slight, partly from habit and partly due to the length of the table. "You're not wearing your laboratory shirt I notice."
"No mother." He replied. "I'm dropping in on the bank this morning, then I have that meeting with The Merchant's Guild you asked me to handle, remember?"
"Oh yes. Thank you again. I can't stand listening to them go on."
"I think they prefer you over me."
"Naturally, you pay attention. Oh, the mail."
Mechanisberg's foreign mail arrived by The Crow of Claire on its overnight express service. As usual most of it was for Agatha, The Heterodyne. She also opened the few things for other family members in case they needed passing along. Lars meanwhile didn't get much, most of the mail that concerned him was delivered to The Bank for his clerks to sift through. Today he was surprised to see that there were three items for his attention.
"A quick note here from the rest of the family" his mother commented "something about a rogue golem..."
The first letter was large and expected, a bundle of articles for him to review for Het Koninklijke Tijdschrift Voor Financiën, Economie, Statistiek, Sociologie en Haring.
"Sir Magnus and Dr Wormwood are confirming their arrival time for Yule. Castle, make sure preparations are all in order."
"Yes Mistress."
The second was a confidential, ciphered, report on corruption in Geneva's Tailor's Guild. The news was worse than he had expected. Time to invest in beets.
"Anything interesting for you Lars?"
Larentius Heterodyne's eyebrows slid slowly towards his hairline. "Yes mother." He said reading the third letter. "I shall need to make arrangements to be in Vienna for the thirtieth of January. And I shall need to find someone to bring with me."