Page 57 of Search for the Lost

“Crispy, you okay?” Leo was staring at him.

“Yes. Just… memories.” He’d admired handsome beings before, but Dietrich was the first one who had crossed from thoughts into fantasies. Those arms, strong as oak trees. That smile. His cerulean eyes an ocean to dive into…. He shook it off. “We should get checked in.”

They grabbed their bags—small potatoes compared with the mountain of luggage his mother usually brought—and entered the Koniglichen Titten.

The ground floor was fairly quiet, but it was late afternoon and, as far as Crispin could tell, hardly prime drinking hours.

The space was dim, lit exclusively by a fireplace at one end and a few wall-hung lanterns. A long bar—made from a single piece of wood stained almost black—ran along one side, accommodating a few scattered customers who nursed huge ceramic beer steins.

On one side, a stair ascended to the rooms on the second floor.

It looked exactly as he remembered it, except for⁠—

“Crispin?”

He blinked, and his heart began to race, his arms breaking out in a cold sweat. He knew that voice.

He turned to find Dietrich von Bern in the flesh, grinning at him like a madman.

He was as handsome as ever, even if he was a bit older than Crispin remembered—Aren’t we all?—with a little gray appearing at his temples. He still exuded that same rakish charm.

“Oark.” Crispin cleared his throat and tried again. “Hello, Dietrich.”

20

Leopold

Leo was kind of enjoying himself. Briefly. The ride in the bahn-bahn had been pleasant, with pretty countryside and, for once, nothing actively trying to kill them. Aspin hadn’t seemed happy about their Black Forest destination, and neither had Thea or Minkis. But surely they were being ridiculous. After all, Leo had eaten black forest cake once, and it was delicious. So how bad could the place be? All that stuff about WOES or WOLF—or is it WOLFs?—was probably just wild exaggeration.

Then they’d arrived at the pub with the hilarious name, and that was fine too. It was a cute building. Leo had never been to Germany—he’d never been out of the United States until he met Crispin—but this was how he’d imagined it. Well, he suspected that real Germans didn’t often wear dirndls and lederhosen nowadays, unlike the customers at the Koniglichen Titten, but that was fine. So was the fact that the patrons were belting out songs in a language he’d never heard of that seemed to have a complete absence of consonants. The musicians were plucking the quills of badger-sized creatures that looked like the love child of a porcupine and a penguin—and which sounded exactly like accordions.

So, yeah. All very good and fine. Pretty mild compared to some of the worlds he’d visited.

Until that guy entered the room.

Dietrich, Crispin had called him. After he managed to roll his tongue back into his mouth.

This Dietrich guy was dressed as if he was on break from jousting at a Medieval Times restaurant or maybe an escapee from a Renaissance Fair. He was tall and handsome and built. He looked like someone the studio would hire to play Thor if Chris Hemsworth wasn’t available.

And dammit, Dietrich and Crispin knew each other.

“I’m Leopold Lane,” he said loudly, positioning himself in front of Crispin. He didn’t hold out his hand. “We’re pretty hungry and tired, and if we could just get some grub and rooms, that’d be great. Crispin and I want a room together. With one bed.” He actually had no idea whether Dietrich worked there, but whatever.

Dietrich nodded absently at him, his attention focused entirely on Crispin. “It has been a long time since I have seen you. You were handsome then, but now you have matured like fine Multranian Ueuccima brew.”

Leo guessed that was a compliment, based on the way that Crispin preened. Also, Leo guessed that Dietrich’s accent was fake. Nobody really sounded that suave.

“Erm… it’s good to see you again.” Crispin sounded rather as though he was choking on his own tongue. “You also look… fine… brew….” He cleared his throat. “This is my brother, Aspin.”

While Aspin goggled, Dietrich bowed. “How delightful to meet Her Majesty’s other son. The Moss’caladin good looks have graced you as well, I see.”

Under other circumstances Leo might have enjoyed seeing Aspin blushing and scrambling to find words, but Leo was too busy scowling. “And like I said, I’m Leopold Lane. Crispin’s partner. And we need⁠—”

“A human. How novel.” Dietrich didn’t look remotely interested.

Leo wondered whether that interest would be piqued if he disclosed that he was not a human but was, in fact, Chaos Incarnate. He was willing to bet that Dietrich had never met Chaos before and had no clue how powerful Leo could be under the right circumstances. But it was probably best to keep his real identity under wraps, so he simply upped his scowl three notches. He also decided that talking to Dietrich was a waste of time, so instead he poked Crispin’s arm. Not very gently.

“Ow!” Crispin held his arm and looked at Leo in surprise. “What was that for?”