Wilhelm and the Other One

Chapter one in a misadventure.

Wilhelm Gerhard von Jurgenson III paced the great room nervously. The whole situation was quite absurd. His father had been a member of court, and his father before that. Any minute now, the council would be adjourned and his status as a minor noble re-confirmed or denied. This was all Marta’s fault anyhow. Her compulsion to gamble, had drained both the family’s money and reputation.

Wilhelm continued pacing. Wilhelm continued cursing his negligent daughter. Wilhelm continued calmly panicking.

The doors to the meeting room creaked, and Wilhelm snapped to attention. Out of the room walked… that couldn’t be. The man walked swiftly towards Wil. The short cropped beard, balding hairline… Wil could have sworn he was staring at himself. The man looked exactly like Wil. Bushy eyebrows, short, sparse hair, surprisingly unmarked hands. Everything, down to the last shoe buckle, was identical. Wilhelm realized vaguely that the man was inquiring something of him.

“...would you?” finished the man.

“I beg your pardon, but who are you exactly?” inquired Wil

“That is a rather complicated question, but I’m afraid we simply have no time. I need you to come with me.”

“Don’t have time? ‘We’? Explain yourself at once!”

“I’ve already said, there’s no time.” The man rushed toward Wilhelm, clamped a hand firmly on his arm, and began to drag him towards a door.

“Unhand me! This is most uncivilized! I have business to attend to! Have you any idea whom you are addressing?” protested Wil.

The man ignored the sputtering forth of profanities, protests, and lewd suggestions, and managed to wrestle Wilhelm Gerhard von Jurgenson III and shove him out the door. Wil paused for a breath and was about to continue his ravings, when he realized that he’d been pulled onto a balcony.

“You’re an assassin.” Wilhelm stated plainly. “Or you want me to repay Marta’s debts. Is that it? I know she owes quite a lot, but if you will allow me-”

“I’m not an assassin, or a debt collector. I need to know if you received an unmarked package on your doorstep this morning” the man replied, closing the door behind them.

“Why on God’s green earth could that possibly matter?”

“Please just answer.”

Wilhelm stared the man down for a few second before replying, “As a matter of fact, I did. How does this concern you?”

“Did you open it?”

“I’m not going to stand here and-”

The man grabbed Wilhelm’s shoulders, slammed him against the wall, and asked, “Did. You. Open. It.”

“I- no, I didn’t.”

“Thank God”

The man then grabbed Wil’s arm, and jumped up onto the railing of the balcony.

“For God’s sakes! What do you think you’re doing! This is the third story, man! Are you suicidal!”

Similar insults and outrages poured from Wilhelm’s mouth as the man managed to drag Wil up onto the railing with him.

“On three, we jump” said the stranger.

“What?!”

“One-”

“The hell we will!”

“Two-”

“Nononononono-”

“Three.”

With that, the man pushed Wilhelm, then jumped after him.

Wind screamed past Wil’s ears, deafening him. The topiaries below, looked larger and less like a soft landing every passing moment. Then the topiaries started to waver, like a mirage on a hot day, until everything looked like a child’s watercolor painting. Colors flew past, scents drifted around aimlessly, the wind still pressed around him, but there was suddenly nothing to hear. The colors then began to shine, softly at first, but quickly brightening to a blinding spectacle. Suddenly, blackness.

~~~~~

Wilhelm Gerhard von Jurgenson III landed on his feet, initially. Then his elbow, then his rear, then his shoulders, before finally coming to rest flat on his stomach. Everything ached.

“Rough landing. It happens to the best of us.”

Wil looked up, but couldn’t see much, as his cape had folded over his head upon landing.

“I b-” Wil attempted to say, but was rudely interrupted by a massive coughing fit.

“Woah there, take it easy, partner. No one comes out of slip that fast without a headache.”

Slowly, Wilhelm began to take inventory of his limbs. He hadn’t felt this sore since, well, ever. He managed to wedge his hands underneath himself, and slowly push himself back up into a seated position. He then flipped his cape back to where it belonged, and took a good look at the figure standing over him.

Unbelievable.

It was another man. Another man that looked like him. Perhaps this is all a dream he thought.This man looked a bit different to himself, he supposed. The hair was longer, the skin darker, the beard nonexistent, and good Lord in heaven, what is that man wearing.

The man was wearing a powder blue shirt, but the sleeves were all wrong. They hugged themselves far to close to the figure, with no volume of any kind. Over that was some sort of sleevless shirt over that. The hose were blue and covered on the outside of the leg by, what was that, leather? And the hat (good Lord, the hat) was wide brimmed and curved up on the edges.

“Howdy! Pleased as a peach to make your acquaintance! I know it’s kinda strange, gettin’ here yer first time, but on my honor as a Texan, we’ll get you situated right quick.”

And with that, Wilhelm Gerhard von Jurgenson III fainted dead on the spot.