A/N: One quick thing to note - while Volger plays a key role in this prologue chapter, Alek and Deryn do not appear until chapter 2. If you want some world-establishing and mood-setting for the fanfic, read on. If not, feel free to skip on to chapter 2.

Chapter 1

"In an Antique Land"

Outside of Vienna, Austria

June 26th, 1914

Since the rapid militarization of Western Europe, tensions had been brewing to an all-time high between the rival Darwinist and Clanker states entrenched within their continental boundaries. While Clanker mechanics churned out one war-machine after another, Darwinist biologists scrambled to modify their own gene-spliced creations to outfight and outpace their robotic counterparts. Each respective power knew that the powder keg of Europe could be lit at any time, and that even the slightest misstep could catapult the continent into a bloody war. Military spending became the top priority of Europe's greatest and smallest powers, and every successive year's defenses were bolder and more advanced than the next. Austria-Hungary was no exception to this contemporary fact of life.

Several miles from Hofburg Palace, a once-abandoned outpost was buzzing with activity. Outwardly, it appeared to be a windowless apartment complex, with its aging white paint chipped away in numerous spots. Ivy hung loosely from its rooftop, and no apparent entrance was visible on any side. On the inside, however, each of its three stories were packed with armed personnel from Austria-Hungary's armed forces. From the most distinguished generals to the lowest NCO's, it appeared as though every soldier worth his salt was present. Maps of Europe were sprawled across every room, with conflicting plans of attack and defense scribbled across every inch of land. Any hints of color and vibrancy in the rooms were secluded by the grim feeling shared by its inhabitants: war was coming, and there was no way to stop it.

In the officer's club of the third floor, four highly-ranked men in particular were discussing the matter privately. The stools along the bar table had been knocked over, and the counter had not been cleaned or used in years. In place of the finely-crafted wooden furniture were crudely crafted metallic lookalikes, all occupied by the officers within the club. The bright yellow wallpaper had faded from years of cigar smoke and riotous barfighting, and the light overhead flickered with a low hum. A portable radio mounted on the counter broadcasted the discussions below them in a scratchy, barely-audible volume.

Although Wildcount Volger technically lacked the clearance to take part in this meeting, his knowledge and vast experience on cavalry tactics made him a valuable asset to the Austrian High Command. Partially due to this, but mostly due to the insistence of an influential ally of his, he was serving as an advisor to the three other officers present. It certainly made him feel more important than the weekly fencing lessons with a potential heir-to-be did, although he was well aware of the true purpose behind them.

"…Serbia," the thickly-bearded Colonel Waechter muttered to his comrades. "If this disaster begins anywhere, it'll be because of those thugs in Serbia." He continued to rub his legs anxiously, keenly aware of the confused looks the other three were giving him. Looking up to meet their gazes, he declared, "Haven't you seen the way they're eyeing our southern borders? Like a pack of wolves waiting for the kill! They're planning something, I'm telling you…"

"Not that I question your logic, Waecther," the cigar-puffing General Bierman commented, "but Serbia is not known for its military might. They can barely keep the Russians from consuming their lands entirely!"

"Your point?" Waechter fired back, rubbing his arthritis-inflamed leg. "They don't have to be the strongest power to hurt us, just gutsy enough! Like how those Americans wiped Spain off of Cuba: their armies should have been no match for an armada like Spain's, but they took chances and kicked them off Cuba!"

Lt. Colonel Rothschild stepped in between their argument. "If I may?" he asked. When no response was made, he continued. "General Bierman's point is that any attack by Serbia would be suicide for them. I highly doubt they could last a few months in direct combat with Germany supporting us." Before Waecther could interject, he began again. "However, I know that desperate times can cause desperate actions in certain people. The Serbs are a smart people, but they are desperate enough to try something foolish. We might need to keep our eyes pointed at their border. Whatever our diplomacy with the Ottomans cannot do, our military strength can."

Waechter and Bierman conceded, and got back into their seats. While Waechter openly and eagerly awaited a threat to neutralize and honors to be received, Bierman had grown weary of the whole affair. His eyes had seen the catastrophic effects of war firsthand too many times, and had confided with Volger about his hopes that he would not live to see another conflict on such a scale as the Crimean War.

To Volger, Rothschild was the only reliable participant in the conversation other than himself. While Waechter did occasionally show signs of tactical brilliance and cunning, this was frequently overshadowed by his insubordinate and obnoxious attitude. Bierman, on the other hand, was too hesitant to take action. He greatly respected his long and successful career in the Austro-Hungarian Armed Forces, but recognized the slowness brought on by his age. The last time the two had talked in private, he had admitted that he was planning to retire once this potential war blew over like the others did.

"Rothschild, are you forgetting someone?" he jested, smoothing out his large gray moustache.

Embarrassed, Rothschild turned his attention towards him. "Of-of course not, Volger," he said, "how could we forget the noble count's opinion? Please, share with us your thoughts."

Getting out of his chair, Volger circled the room in a clockwork-like manner. "Our attention for the past half-hour has been pointed towards the south and east. While Russia is a grave threat to our defenses, our greatest threats lie in the north and west. Serbia lacks the morale and manpower to directly oppose us, and Italy is a nation of cowards, to be blunt."

Waechter audibly scoffed, and said, "France and Britain? What're they going to do, intimidate us out of fighting back with their tangled alliances?"

Bringing himself face-to-face with the irate colonel, Volger looked into his eyes with a grim countenance. "That is exactly what I am saying." He fished through his flamboyant Austrian noble's uniform, producing a continental map from within. On it, thin red lines were drawn all over, connecting each country by strings. "The Darwinist powers have only one factor in common: they all hate us more than they hate each other. Belgium wants protection from any chance of Clanker aggression, so they have aligned themselves with France. France has aligned itself with Serbia and Britain, which are allied with Russia and Canada and Italy, who in turn receive American and Japanese imported weapons." With a snap, he rolled up the document and returned it to its former resting place. "One false move, and we bring the wrath of every Darwinist power upon us!"

Hopefully, this would take their attention away from merely crushing Serbia in an overwhelming invasion. The Western Allied Powers posed a much greater threat than their Eastern counterparts.

"Don't forget," Bierman added, "we have Darwinists to contend with in our own lands…" In his hands laid a flyer from the latest Alliance strike, not even a week old.

The elephant in the room had finally been addressed. In recent years, production of Stormwalkers and other armored vehicles had been halted by numerous strikes and protests – all of which were organized by a Ms. Anastasia Gottschalk, the supposed leader of the Austrian Darwinist Alliance. Austria-Hungary was months behind schedule for its wartime production, and the empire's once-loyal citizens were beginning to give cries of dissent.

"Oh, come now!" Waechter cried, "don't act like you believe that Austrian Darwinist nonsense!" Hobbling onto his arthritis-inflamed legs, he furiously grabbed the flyer from his superior's hands, tearing it to pieces before his very eyes. "All those traitorous pinkos want is to see our way of life destroyed! Especially that Gottschalk person, and her damn labor protests. If it were up to me…" his tirade was quickly interrupted by a coughing fit, throwing him off balance and back into his chair.

Rothschild gave a sigh of unease at Waechter's antics. Volger was often amazed that his "friend" got away with such insubordinate behavior and maintained his rank. "Still, though, we cannot discount the influence that woman has on the people here. Especially near the Serbian border, the common folk hail her as a liberator and freedom fighter. We can denounce her all we like, but her following is too influential to be ignored." Eyeing Bierman, he said, "Which is why you were going to negotiate some of her demands today, correct?"

Volger cared little about peasant rebellions. As his father once told him, "after you see them revolt for the first time, it all becomes a predictable cycle of discontent, rebellion, and failure." As far as he was concerned, border defense was a much more important matter than a woman calling herself "God's servant". She could cry havoc all she wanted, but her status as a second-class citizen and a woman would never let her be legitimized in the eyes of the Darwinists outside of Austria-Hungary.

"That is affirmative, Colonel," Bierman responded. "If we want to win this conflict, we need the support of our entire people. Who could do a better job at unifying our Darwinists than her?"

"With all due respect, General," Waechter interjected, "that's some serious wishful thinking. How do we even know she'll cooperate if we give her what she wants?"

"We may never know, Colonel, and that is precisely why I wanted to meet her in person. There is no better way to gauge a person's behavior than to look them in the eye."

When their banter stopped, Volger joined back into the fray. "Assuming that there will be no further discussion on the Austrian Darwinist matter, we need to have formed some sort of plan for Austria's defense by the end of the hour." Pulling out his pocket watch, Volger opened it for his fellow officers to see. "Emperor Franz Joseph demands that his advisors compromise on an all-encompassing plan for defending Austria's borders and launching preliminary attacks into Darwinist territory. Our idea must be presented to the Chief of Staff before sundown."

They worked out complicated strategies for Austria's defense for hours, arguing back and forth on the stability of Russia and the reliability of the Ottomans, until a clear voice emerged from the formerly-chaotic radio broadcast. "General Bierman!" the anxious person on the other side announced, "you are needed in room 1A for an important discussion with a Ms.-" the sound of papers being fumbled reverberated, "Gottschalk, I believe."

Bierman nodded dimly. "Don't wait up for me, friends. Give our report to the Chief of Staff. I will deal with the agitator myself."

"Wait, you mean she's in the compound right now?" Waecther asked. "Why in the world did we even let her in? We're planning our nation's defense here, and we're just going to let her eavesdrop on every word we say?"

"Now, just a moment," Bierman responded, "I highly doubt she will interfere with or even know of our plans. All she has been told is that a high-ranking member of Austria's military wished to negotiate with her in a quiet, remote location. The first floor is nearly empty and soundproof, anyway, so I would be shocked if she actually heard anything above her. Also, she has armed escorts following her every move, and they've presumably searched her for any contraband already."

Waechter was getting himself worked up once more. "Then, what in the world are we doing negotiating with her? That should be the governor's job! All she is a black eye to the war effort! We should just kill her now!"

The aging general merely grunted at his subordinate's rant. "I don't know about you, but I am a man of my word. If I say I will negotiate with someone, there will be no trickery involved. I have no doubts that this will be beneficial to the war effort." Handing his pocketbook over to Rothschild, he said, "I must get going. Once again, don't be late."

Lifting himself up with his cane, Bierman hefted his extra weight out of his chair, and made his way out of the officer's club. After making sure he was gone, Waechter grabbed Bierman's cigar from the ashtray and began smoking it, breathing out lazy clouds of smoke.

"So, in the meantime, what will we do?" Rothschild asked.

He wished he could feel confident in this negotiation, but his logical side reminded him of the unlikeliness of a Darwinist cooperating with a Clanker general, especially someone who has experienced as much as Ms. Gottschalk. "We hope for the best," he said, "but we also expect the worst."

Anastasia was, once more, surrounded by Clanker soldiers. The only significant part about this time was that she actually wanted to be here.

Not that she enjoyed the company of Clankers. On the contrary, she despised them and everything they stood for. They had taken away nearly everything that she loved, and she would never forgive their kind for that. But, meeting with them today was a necessary evil, of sorts. It may be the only chance the Austrian-Darwinist Alliance had at getting their demands recognized.

They certainly could have improved the décor of the place, though. She wasn't entirely sure why they chose such a run-down hovel to host an important meeting with her, or why they were only utilizing one out of the four floors of this heavily-patrolled building. They wouldn't dare lure her out here to kill her, though. Her followers would rise up to avenge her, and the nations that publically supported her cause would use it as a justification to directly intervene.

The thought of the Austrian Clankers' house of cards collapsing around them warmed her heart.

Speaking of warmth, she was beginning to overheat from the damp humidity of the room. It was balmy and uncomfortable in her patchwork overcoat, sown together from Austrian, Serbian, and Russian officers' uniforms. But, taking it off would eliminate her one ace-in-the-hole, which had been constructed as a result of the knowledge that many Clankers were too formal, and too polite, to directly search a woman for sensitive materials. That certainly didn't stop them from abusing them in other ways, though.

Eventually, an old general stepped through the doorway, while the four guards standing by saluted him. He certainly looked like the type of officer that the Clankers loved: too old to sympathize with the Darwinists, and well-fed to the point of looking unhealthy. He looked at her uncertainly, as if he didn't think she was capable of managing a labor union herself. The nerve of him…and was he staring at her scars? They always fixated on them, as if they didn't want to admit that her dead right eye and burn scar stretching from her left eyelid to her lower jaw was their fault.

The general cleared his throat. "Anastasia Gottschalk, I presume?" he asked, clearly wondering if she was, in fact, the actual leader of the Austrian-Darwinist Alliance, or just a decoy. She would show him; she would show them all who really had the most influence in Austria.

"That's right," she replied. "I'm guessing you're the patsy the Emperor wants me to talk with? Everything we want is listed on these papers-" pushing the small stack of paperwork in front of her towards him, "-and we're not going to grovel to you techno-fascists unless every one of them is agreed to."

The old general's eyes narrowed a bit. "Hmph, 'patsy,' 'Techno-fascists'…don't push me, girl. I want a peaceful solution as much as you do, but many of my superiors would like to see you at the end of a rope. I'm the only one here who wants to give you a square deal." Lighting up his antique pipe, he continued. "Now, let's take a look at these…demands of yours."

Silently, Anastasia rubbed her hands together under the table. This could only end two ways, and the idea of a 50-50 chance of survival didn't appeal to her. Although she would normally be confident in a negotiation, an inescapable feeling of anxiety surrounded her. She was expecting for this meeting to happen in a bright room with plenty of windows and exits, not some run-down house outside of the capital. Perhaps the service tunnel she had caught a glimpse of on the way over might lead into Vienna?

"'We, the undersigned members of the Austrian-Darwinist Alliance, present our grievances to the authority of Austria-Hungary's leaders, in hopes that expanded rights for non-Clanker citizens may be obtained. This includes…the admittance of known Darwinists into Austria-Hungary's military as fully-trained combatants…the removal of excessive taxes on Darwinist households…" The general nodded to her, confirming his approval so far. "The re-opening of trade with Serbia…the legalization of Darwinist imports and goods into Austrian territory…"

He casually sat the papers down and addressed Anastasia. "Well, these seem rather feasible, if I do say so myself. It may require some extensive rewriting of regulations, but it may be possible for Darwinists to serve in our army. Provided, of course, that they familiarize themselves with Clanker technology."

They would never work with Clanker technology, no matter what. Regardless, it was important to agree for now. "I appreciate your support of our ideals, General. If our grievances are addressed, you can expect a halt to our strikes and protests." She knew better than to celebrate now, though. The tougher demands were only a few lines away, and it would be much more difficult to win even the most moderate Clanker over to support them.

Quickly finding his last read section, he continued reading. "The end to hostilities with Russia and Serbia…you are aware that they've rejected our diplomatic efforts to coexist with them, correct?" When she gave no response, he shrugged it off and kept going. "The total conversion of all state-supplied farm equipment from mechanical implements to fabrications…the banning of German imported goods into Austrian territory…are you mad? Do you want our economy to collapse?"

"I've worked on Darwinist farms in the past. You'll find that their fabrications are much more efficient than your soulless machinery." Anastasia paused for a moment, though she wasn't sure if it was for effect, or drawing from her painful memories. "That is, if there are any independent farms owned by Darwinists anymore…" she added, a sense of anguish and resentment present in her voice.

Ignoring her comment, the general moved on. "The elimination of the Austrian aristocracy, and public military tribunals for any known perpetrators of the Prague Massacre of 1903...but they provoked us into firing upon them! How is it a Massacre if a military parade is bombed by terrorists?" Again, silence. "The granting of full amnesty to all known Darwinist dissenters, including the fearless and noble members of the Black Hand and Young Bosnia movement currently imprisoned…"

A tense silence followed. When Anastasia looked up, the general was glaring at her. "You want us to forgive known terrorists just because they agree with you? Are you mad?"

"I'd hardly call a band of freedom fighters struggling for interests of your people 'terrorists.'"

"They throw bombs into crowded streets and assassinate local governors!" his tone had shifted from quiet stoicism to sheer disgust. "How is that 'noble' or heroic? They're nothing more than cowards hiding behind civilians!"

Anastasia slammed both of her hands on the table, shouting, "And arresting and torturing people for not wanting to use your mechanics isn't cowardly? How about the raids on Darwinist intellectuals you bastards have been doing these past few years?!" Her voice quivered with raw emotion as she continued, "How about my family, or my friends, or my face? Do you think I was born like this? While you and your privileged friends live life on the backs of your people, we're being torn apart by you desensitized pricks!" her voice elevating to a shriek all the while.

Anastasia's breaths were heavy and frequent, and forced her to sit down and regain her composure. She had ruined it, she knew it. The old bastard would never agree to a thing she said. The Clankers would never see reason; they only understood brute force and violence. There was only one way out, and that meant using Adrian's device.

Probably knowing what was in store for him, the general skimmed the remaining pages of the grievance list, describing every few demands. "Expulsion of German diplomats from Austria-Hungary, the removal of Emperor Franz Joseph from the throne, the institution of a Darwinist-operated democratic government, the disarmament of Clanker militant groups…" Having now "understood" her wishes to the fullest extent, he slid the papers back to Anastasia. "I can only offer equal representation and taxation of Darwinists to your 'Alliance'. Everything else is out of the question, both for the Austrian Armed Forces and for its aristocracy."

"I didn't come here for a partial solution, General. You can either meet all of our demands, or none of them." Her hands balled into fists beneath the table, attempting to keep her explosive temper in check. Her hatred focused onto the overweight officer staring her down.

If that's what you really want," he replied, exasperated at her stance on the issues, "I'll be leaving to attend to other matters. I am still willing to compromise with you on this, however."

"We've tried compromising in the past, but your people take advantage of us at every turn." Her tone was acidic, having abandoned all formality at this point. "You're just another worthless cog in the Clanker bureaucracy, you know that?"

Just then, she felt a rough hand grab her by the shoulder. "Men, please escort Ms. Gottschalk from the premises. She has grown uncooperative and impossibly-demanding, and cannot contribute anything of value to the meeting anymore."

Before any of the room's other occupants could react, Anastasia produced a flare-like grenade from her overcoat, and pulled the pin in full view of everyone. A blinding flash struck the Austrian soldiers, followed by a deafening explosion of sound. The armed escorts flailed around the room, desperately trying to stabilize themselves from the assault, all while the general struggled to call out for help. All five Clankers in the room were completely oblivious to her unaffected state. As Adrian had warned her regarding his "stun grenade," or whatever he called it, its effects was easily countered by shutting one's eyes.

Taking a bayonet from one of the confused guards on the floor, Anastasia impatiently knocked the table aside, facing the blinded general with her hate-filled eyes. Grabbing him roughly by his hair, she plunged the bayonet into his throat. With the determination of a madman, she stabbed it once more into his carotid artery, then his chest, and his stomach. Releasing the pent-up hatred her feeble exterior had sheltered, she continued stabbing the now-deceased general in his torso, her eyes wild with unheard-of ferocity. In the few seconds this had taken place, her clothes and face had been soaked in blood.

Almost in horror of her own actions, Anastasia dropped the bayonet on the ground, right beside the still-recovering guards. She nervously dropped her own coat, which revealed a near-identical replica of an Austrian soldier's uniform. Had she really murdered a brigadier general in his own outpost? It seemed like an out-of-body experience when she confronted him. And yet, it felt so satisfying…it was an utterly cathartic feeling.

"What the hell is going on down there?" a voice cried from the stairwell. "If any of you lot are fighting each other, it'll be solitary for everyone involved!" The sound of heavy steps descended down the stairwell, and Anastasia's heart skipped a beat. Frantically, she sprinted out the service tunnel, leaving the gruesome evidence of her crime behind. Her contacts in the city should be able to help her flee back to Innsbruck. Now, she had no choice but to start an armed resistance. If the Clankers found her, they'd take her head for such a treasonous move.

War was her only remaining option. If Austria were to survive as a Darwinist republic, the Clankers would have to be wiped out entirely.

A mere two days after the incident, Archduke Franz Ferdinand and his wife were fatally poisoned, with the culprits believed to be Serbian nationalists. The search team assembled to track down Anastasia Gottschalk and her associates was recalled, and were instead told to hunt down the perpetrators of the 28th's assassination. To the Austrian bureaucracy, the life of an Archduke was worth much more than a mere brigadier general. While their manhunt for the people believed to be his killers proved successful, Gottschalk eluded their grasp. Every potential lead turned up false or a dead-end, and even the most carefully-planned sting operations were unable to bring her out into the open.

The Black Hand was believed to be eliminated from Austrian soil by mid-1914. Confident that the anarchist threat was ended, Austria-Hungary declared war on Serbia for its apparent involvement, sending Europe spiraling into a global conflict. Under their noses, however, the Austrian Darwinist Alliance swelled in numbers and strength, until it became apparent that they were more than a mere group of labor agitators…