Lord Gould's Expedition: They Who Had Lofty Pillars (IC)

[Lancearc]

Jamison Gould

Lord Gould was surprised when she pulled away from the embrace, with a stern objection and a look directly in the eyes, her darker beads shimmering with tears examining his incredibly light blue ones that still betrayed hints of uncertainty. She showed almost a stubborn determination to carry out what she called a promise of hers, and the sobbing plea to overlook that which she called a weakness moved him, even if the lord failed to show it outwardly. "I'm certain you have more to offer all of us than I ever could have imagined was possible, Ese." he smiled, trying not to weep himself at the sight of the loyal lady, dedicated to her promises and escaping that past life by whatever means possible. "I suppose I must pledge to keep you safe then, at all costs. I can't have your blood weighing on my mind." he added solemnly. "When it's all over I'll make sure you live as a queen for the rest of your days, you have my word." he swore to the Egyptian belle before him.

---

Timothy McKay

"Yes My Lord, right away!" came the frantic reply from the steward of the estate after the Austrian man ordered him away to fetch water to douse the fire that had sprung so dangerously near to not only the Lord Gould's home, but his home as well. With speed that likely would never be matched again in the halls of that great house the Irishman was off and running, gathering up as many servants and handmaidens as he could in his mad dash through the halls with cries of 'Fire!' and 'Follow me!', soon resulting in a convoy of well-dressed ladies and gentlemen rushing like men and women without their minds to wash basins, sinks, and other household faucets with cups, vases, buckets of all kinds in order to carry out the commands of the Austrian valiently holding the front entrance.

Soon enough they had all returned, water carries in hand, a few even with thick woolen blankets that they might attempt to suffocate the flames with, each of them contributing to the effort to douse the approaching blaze. After this first wave of manpower it was already significantly weaker, but it still burned on, and thus the maids and butlers continued to leave and arrive with water to combat the inferno.

Outside, the gunfire had ceased. Whether it was because Ludwig had eliminated the remaining scoundrels or they simply ran off into the night was unclear, but the garden out front of the bloodied and battered estate was once again calm. The trickling of the stream was the only sound besides the smoldering of the flames still present near the front door.

[Port Alexander]

IV: Aux Armes, Citoyens!

Being a particularly heavy sleeper, Sir Godfrey, was not fully aware of the improvised attack on Lord Gould's residence until he was startled by the shouts and shots coming from downstairs. Still dressed in his sleeping attire, with his hair somewhat theatrically uncombed and with blurry vision, he started to make his way downstairs. His Webley Revolver grasped tightly in his right hand so much so that his knuckles adopted a fierce white hue.

As he approached the skirmish, his whole body froze and a barrier of cold sweat formed on his forehead. The Webley Revolver. Isandlwana. The Zulus. Sir Godfrey's firearm, acting as a stimulus, just for a few moments paralysed him. In those brief seconds he was not a Knight of the Realm in his fifties, he was a young Lieutenant out of his depth. The distinctive shape of the hill of Isandlwana providing a beautiful but imposing background to the carnage that he was part of. With over 10,000 Zulus attacking the British encampment only one outcome was certain. Death.

"For goodness sakes, man, do something! A commanding voice said, snapping Sir Godfrey, his hand now numb due to holding his firearm so tight, back to the present moment.

Almost instinctively, Sir Godfrey ran forward and assisted the Lord and Major Hill in the barricading of the door. With shots ringing out and priceless heirlooms being pierced by bullets, the two rivals glanced at each other. The Sir and the Major, for a brief moment, were united in cause - each understanding, recognising, accepting that they were both soldiers if not in the past then certainly now. But it would be only a temporary alliance.

With Godfrey needed elsewhere, he left the door and fired through a nearby window not entirely sure if he would even hit anything but perhaps the shock of being fired upon would deter the assailants.

The mini-battle ensued for the next while, but with the eruption of fire, dangerously close to the Gould estate, and the ceasing of gunfire Godfrey assumed that the worst was over. "Those barbaric fiends!" He loudly cursed to no one in particular. Seeing that the household staff were frantically trying to extinguish the blaze, Sir Godfrey, assisted them and soon the fire was somewhat under control.

It had been an eventful night - physically and emotionally. But now, Sir Godfrey just wanted their adventure to begin - he had a job to do and he planned on doing it promptly and properly.

[Stadenwick]

"Christus, don't bring them all here! You..." Ludwig silently shouted before getting cut by another bullet swirling above him. By now it has only left one man standing, and he quickly left after realizing that its his last shot. The hooligan probably now realized the gravity of the situation and scared for his own life after seeing most of his friends efficiently gunned down by the Austrian doctor. The German efficiency Ludwig born with his heritage is apparent through each and every shot he make rarely miss the target it was intended to shoot, something that perhaps British brutes is not familiar with. After few awkward quiet seconds of nothing happening, Ludwig decided to abandon his cover and skulk around the now ruined park. Thankfully, it seems that its over, for real this time. And the peaceful serenity of the night has once again come to the front entrance he has been valiantly holding. Only trickling of the stream and smouldering of the flame that the maids and butlers try to put down become the decoration the the whole situation.

His job here is done, He come back gloriously through the ruined great door, side-stepping the fire and the people that try to put it away. The servant he has shared some time together bunking down avoiding bullets runs back and forth with a bucket of water. Armed with a polite, cold smile, Ludwig calmly stops the frantic steward and took the bucket of water from him, instead returning the rifle he risked his life to given to him. "Give her back to your lord, would you kindly?" Ludwig stated to explains his action before joining the butlers and maid throwing water inside the bucket to the fire and told other servant to take such thing off from his noble hand.

Now, it's time to rejoin Lord Gould and the rest of the group...somewhere in this huge manor.

[Great Confederacy of Commonwealth States]

“Christ Almighty!”

Charles could do nothing but stand aghast at the sight he’d just witnessed. Before his very eyes, the woman who had formerly seemed so peaceful, so educated, so civilised, bore down with a savage ferocity on one of her assailants. Her knife was brought down on the man time and time again, drawing spurts of blood every time it came out and drenching the white shirt of the man in red. The man let out screams of terror, becoming increasingly faint as his lungs willed up with blood. Again and again, the knife penetrated his skin, tearing at his internal organs and leaving him ground and shattered. After he fell down, Charles was convinced the horrific sight had ended. However, that thought would appear to be no more than a wishful thought. With a ghastly war cry, the woman dug her knife into the head of the man, removing his scalp with frightful efficiency. The last tendrils were severed with a powerful yank, separating the scalp from the base of the skull.

“Good lord!” Charles cried out as more horrific scenes unfolded. He saw the woman spitting blood at one of the drunkards, throwing the scalpel in his general direction before issuing a slur of grave threats towards his person. In a moment’s notice, the whole corridor was empty again, save for the bodies of two men and the panting wretches that were lord Gould, Ese, and himself. Charles looked down at his hands, seeing that they too had caught some blood from the horrific procedure. They were shaking, too. A mixture of adrenaline, fear, disgust, and pure, unadulterated anger. Anger was the most prominent of the emotions. With his shaking hands he held his rifle tight, while he addressed the master of the house.

“Lord Gould, sir, that was some terrific fighting. I’ve hardly seen such an efficient shot in my life. As your guest, I have no right to demand anything of you now, but honour compels me to beg of you one thing.”

His gaze shifted towards the Egyptian woman, now tear-eyed and held within the arms of Gould.

“I ask that you send this woman away from here. She has shown savagery beyond bounds, losing all sense of dignity at the slightest excitation. This act broke all the articles of war, all the laws of civilised conduct, and all the codes of honour that we hold so dear. That woman” he said, as he pointed his finger at her “is more ferocious and wild than any of the African tribes I have seen. I suggest you either find yourself a true archaeologist, or find yourself a new experienced army officer. I will not share an encampment with that”

He turned towards another corridor, which led back to the garden entrance and the heavy door from which the brunt of the attack had come. One last time, he looked at Ese, giving her nothing but a foul look.

“I thought you had seen the benefits of civilisation. It seems you can’t fight nature after all. My lord Gould, I’m going to check the perimeter. I need some air. That was the most ghastly thing I’ve ever seen, and I’ve held a dying friend in my arms”

Livid, he stormed out the corridor, almost jogging towards the garden entrance. His mind was on fire with seething rage and boiling anger. Images flashed in front of him. Friends, comrades, officers, drinking buddies… He saw burned-out villages and raided caravans, family homes on the savannah looted and burned. He thought of the sights he had seen, the things he had witnessed, which he had been so good at repressing. The African sun bearing down on a British settlement, bodies strewn about to rot, flesh removed from their rotting corpses. Charles shivered at the sight. How could such a talented girl fall to such barbaric practises? He had always had hope that they would be able to civilise the African continent, bring modern medicine, science, religion and conduct to the natives. But if a woman, so versed in the way of civilised practises, could fall back on her savage nature, how much hope was there for Africa?

Buried in his own thoughts, he hadn’t even noticed that he’d reached the doorway. Stepping outside, he met the crisp April air with delight. The rain had cleared out the sky, which was now refreshing and warm. Walking outside was like taking a shower of sorts, as the air rushed into his open-buttoned shirt. The light tap of his sword against his left thigh, the rifle clasped firmly in his hand… For a moment, he thought himself back in South Africa, standing on watch as a fire roared behind him. Silently, he walked around the open grounds of the garden, staring into the distant bushes that formed a perimeter. With his rifle readied, he checked all the bushes for inhabitants. He found the odd squirrel, a few rabbits and even a fox, but nothing that could wield a rifle effectively. It truly seemed like the enemy had been routed, and as far as he could see, they weren’t making ready for another assault. Only time would tell, though. If they came again, they would be ready.

About half-way through his round, Charles stumbled upon a most grizzly sight. Before him lay a man, bathed in a red pool that had formed around him. His hand covered a wound on his chest, with blood slowly oozing through his fingers. Unbeknownst to the man, who was apparently still breathing, there was probably also a hole in his back, allowing him to bleed out anyway. Blood came pouring from his mouth and nostrils, running like tears off his face. Charles recognised the symptoms; his lung had been punctured, allowing red liquid to pour into it. He wouldn’t last, even if doctors could get to him on time. This man was already dead, although God had not granted him the blessing of a quick passing. Charles recognised the man as one he had shot earlier that night, while he’d tried to change cover. His rifle had shot clean through his ribs, leaving all hope of recovery shattered.

“I’m… I’m sorry” Charles uttered. Was he, really? Perhaps not. In a fire fight, people really couldn’t be helped shooting one another. But perhaps a more well-aimed shot would have exploded his heart, leaving him dead in an instant. Now, he just lay there, waiting for the Lord to take him away. In his free hand, the man had clenched a crucifix, an iron cross with a depiction of Jesus on it. In tiny engraving, almost not visible in the dark night, Charles could see the letters written on the small cross. INRI.

“Are you Catholic?” Charles enquired. The man said nothing. He couldn’t, his throat would be filled with bile and blood. He shuddered, his blue eyes piercing those of Charles. He was pale, so incredibly pale. But Charles had seen enough evidence. He had seen this a dozen times already, both on the field and in military hospitals. There was only one thing he could do.

“Have you any sins you would confess before meeting your maker?” Charles asked. His voice was solemn, harsh, but trembling a bit. He had seen this performed a thousand times, yet, finally performing it himself was quite something else. He never thought he would find himself in such a situation. It was important that it be done right, he knew. Whatever this man had done, he would not keep him from eternal life in the light of the Lord, even though he didn’t share his Catholic beliefs.

The man nodded, but again, was unable to speak. Charles nodded back, placing a hand on the man’s forehead.

“If you are truly willing to confess, God will listen even to words unspoken”

Then, he placed his other hand on the abdomen of the man, feeling the drenched red shirt under his fingers.

“God the Father of mercies,
through the death and resurrection of his Son
has reconciled the world to himself
and sent the Holy Spirit among us
for the forgiveness of sins;
through the ministry of the Church
may God give you pardon and peace,
and I absolve you from your sins
in the name of the Father, and of the Son,
and of the Holy Spirit”

Charles halted for a moment, clearing his throat. The man had closed his eyes already, although he could still feel light breathing under his left hand. It was getting dimmer and dimmer, though. There wasn’t much time left.

“May the Passion of our Lord Jesus Christ,
the intercession of the Blessed Virgin Mary, and of all the saints,
whatever good you do and suffering you endure,
heal your sins,
help you to grow in holiness,
and reward you with eternal life”

Then, the breathing stopped. A last spurt of blood shot from the mouth of the man as his heart stopped, making his hand relax to release the crucifix. A last gust of air escaped from the tattered lungs of the man, who was now finally at peace. Charles checked all his life signs for a last time, his pulse, his throat, his breathing, before standing up. With his right hand, he signalled a cross before him.

“In nomine patris, et filii, et spiritus sancti. Amen”

It wasn’t long before Charles returned to the mansion. The fire was being doused quite effectively, and peace and quiet were returning to the estate. The silence of the night came rolling back in, taking over all other sounds. The personnel walked around solemnly, tending to cleaning up the remains of various debris and items strewn about the house. With three quick movements, Charles removed the three remaining rounds from the rifle before handing it back to Timothy. Quickly, he walked towards the Austrian doctor, hoping to be of service.

“Doctor von Ehrenreich, sir” he began, hoping to draw his attention.

“Is there anything I could do for you while you tend to your patients? I’ve seen some wounded men outside who are in need of your help.”

[Stadenwick]

"Ah, General Hill, isn't it? Glad to have you here, it was noble what you did to the miscreant earlier." Ludwig cooly responded to the shaken British soldier. Both of his hand quickly hold the seasoned major's shoulder, shaking him hard enough and pat it twice before letting it go to calm him, an usual procedure in his division to help men who is shaken from the battle, and the one he completely mastered in many bloody mission he was sent in the name of the Archduke. "I was watching you from here," Ludwig continued to talk, "But yes, he was beyond any help when I found him earlier when I scan the area from any hostiles left, you have helped him find any salvation the Lord may give him."

Ludwig then invite Charles to walk with him to fetch his doctor bag he left in the room, as he kindly offered assistance to him. It was subtle, but someone with enough battle experience like Charles would probably notice the change of air the Austrian have. It was one of cold-blooded killer, to be smiling so warm and politely like a noble try to court another even if his eyes now look so far and cold from all the killing he did. But in Ludwig's mind, it's surprisingly simple. He just think that now is surely its time to show the (probably) main reason why would someone with certain medical talent like him would be invited by a British Lord so far away from his beloved home island to the heart of the mainland Europe. But the walk proven to be somewhat awkward, and to break the ice Ludwig finally started a conversation, "Forgive me to be so rude, Major, but if I may ask, why would you care to those man? Because he's white? or because he's catholic?"

"If you ever go to the mainland Europe, you will find that savagery, backwardness, and barbarity didn't end just because someone is white or a christian. No, not at all. What these men did, attacking someone else's manor at night, try to burn it down, and filled with so much blood lust earlier to kill us, should be prove of what I'm talking about." Ludwig said as his eyes shot a thousands mile gaze. "But in Eastern and Southern Europe, it goes even father...Gypsies, Serbians...they are christian sure, but they stole, kill, and rape in daily basis, something that my homeland have turned weak to "accommodate".

"But of course, this goes even farther, in the land of Osman things are much worse. I did not understand why would someone honorable like Lord Gould would invite two women that hail from these savage and barbaric land. I try to be polite of course, but I can't help to look away when I already see their kind in action. They persecute christian, pray to heathen god, and...and, Crete, Bosnia,...they committed genocide against civilized people, all while pretending to be one!" Ludwig moved his face away from the general as he said that, his arm clenched in rage before finally calming down several seconds later. Too many comrades he have lost in the hand of the barbaric Turks and Near Easterner, and too many more died when he tried to save them in his hands.

"But well, now I'm rambling again. I'm sorry. Here we are in my room, so please wait for a while for me to fetch that doctor bag, would you kindly?" Ludwig smiled before opening the door of his room, leaving Major Charles alone with his thought in the front of it.

[Great Confederacy of Commonwealth States]

“Oh, no, doctor. I’m no general. I’m but a major. But yes, major Charles Edward Hill, at your service” Charles replied, giving off a salute. He was happy to see a man of care amongst the horrors of combat. He had spent much time with doctors over the last few years, although mostly on a professional basis. One of the first Boers he ever spoke to was a Boer doctor, who tended after him shortly after his capture. The two became regular acquaintances in Waterval, the Boer prisoner camp, as Charles’ shoulder needed much attention. The doctor, called Pieter van den Veen, had always told him he’d been lucky the wound hadn’t been caused by a dum dum round, or he would’ve lost his arm. Happy indeed, the two men grew to like each other. Even now, they still wrote to one another frequently, as Van der Veen was now working as a medical doctor in Cape Town. From that moment on, Charles had learned to have incredible respect for medical staff, especially those who truly honoured their code. Doctor Van der Veen didn’t distinguish between Boer and Brit in his care, which somehow made him transcend the war. Charles had always felt that doctors somehow rose above violence, like silent angels not touched by earthly misery, yet doing everything in their power to help the world cope.

One can imagine the disillusion Charles had when talking to doctor Von Ehrenreich. Here was a man, totally the opposite of what Charles looked up to in doctors. Von Ehrenreich was deeply patriotic, a fighter, truly not concerned about the lives of those who stood against him. He seemed to relish in violence, and distain helping people he was in only slight opposition to. His rambling on about Serbs, Turks, Bosnians… Somehow, it sickened Charles. To see this man with so little understanding for empathy or care truly made him feel disheartened, like a cold hand gripping around his very heart. The slight smile on his face, brought about by the presence of a doctor, soon disappeared due to the presence of a deeply partial, petty man, who had easily taken up a firearm against God’s creation.

“The reason I helped that man, sir” he said, straining the ‘sir’ to the utmost of his ability.

“is that he was a man. One of God’s many and holy creations. Twelve years ago, I might have shared your views. But I have seen things since then. I owe my life to someone not caring about the colour of my uniform. I’m no Catholic myself, but if that man finds eternal peace because of me, I will gladly help him achieve that. He cannot hurt me beyond the grave. In fact, sir” he said, straining ‘sir’ once again.

“I find it hard to believe that you, a trained medical professional, a sworn doctor, would leave a man to suffer the way he did. You are a Catholic yourself, I fathom. You could have given him the last rites. Instead, you left him there to rot.”

Charles turned around, looking out the window towards the garden, where he could see the bodies of men strewn about like jagged rocks, unattended and uncared for. He grabbed the hilt of his sword tighter, making his right hand into a fist. He turned to face Von Ehrenreich, this time with a face of harden stone.

“Doct… Mister Von Ehrenreich, I hereby implore you to tend to the men wounded outside. You have sworn a solemn vow to care for the sick and wounded. I will look past your deplorable part in committing violence against them, but if you deny them the medical care you swore to give them, I will have you tried for criminal neglect and the disregard of your Hippocrates Oath. And yes, that was a direct threat” Charles said, before turning away. His head still red with fury, he barged away, marching into his room and slamming the door shut. He removed the sword belt from his middle, sitting down on the bed he had woken up from no more than half an hour before. He sunk his face into his hands. Ese, Von Ehrenreich, Graystone… What had he gotten himself into now? For the first time that night, Charles began having doubts about the whole adventure. He thought of home, of Sophia, of little William lying in his crib. Did they really mean so little to him, that he would throw them all away on some sort of foolhardy adventure? With his face buried in his hands, he began to sob, salty tears forming like pearls in his eyes, running down his face like the blood of a certain Catholic assailant. A certain Catholic citizen of the Empire.

[Stadenwick]

Ludwig is taken aback by the Major's words and action. To think he was wrong to judge the British soldier as a man with dignified, civilized European blood with a noble military background. His thin polite smile turn into a cold frown, and his eyes glared a cold stare to Charles. He dropped his doctor bag he just fetch earlier and shout back to the threat as the British man walked away from him "A benevolent god called Christ allow thousands of noble Austrian to die in my arms after being attacked by rabid serbians who is too brutish to see sense of a decision made by international powers to make peace, begging to make me tell each and every wife of them that they loved them, and I have to disregard my Hippocrates Oath for letting those savages die when I have my hand full with the living and civilized? Preposterous! They attacked me and my noble host who has invited far to Vienna. I have my own set of priority, and those definitely not aligned with a British soldier playing mercy. If you truly care, why would you shot the very man you tried to send to heaven to?!"

Ludwig is now also filled with rage, to have his illusion that he found someone with his own stature who still make some sense shattered in front of him as he threatened him to do something so unimaginable. But he's better, he's a noble, a Von Ehrenreich. He take his doctor bag from his floor and stormed down away from the guest rooms, down to the ground floor where he knew someone may need him to patch the wounds created when they're sieged.

But the great door was open, windows near it are shattered, and as the moonlight shine down to the garden, he too can see those bodies of men strewn about, unattended and uncared for. Ludwig's memory began to remember his mother, who shares similar view with Major Charles, that every human is equal when they needed care, needed love, and needed someone to take care of them. His father, an Austrian noble to the core, dismiss such words, but Ludwig take those words to his heart. After all, if not for her too early death, he may never took the path of saving life, and he was determined to repay those souls he have taken in the conflicts by opening his own clinic in Vienna. He put his hands in his mouth, what has he done? Has the spirit of excitement make him forget who he is? Isn't care and compassion is what differentiate him with those savages?

No, he refused to think something like that. A life may be now wasted in his already bloodied hand, but he can still make up for it. Ludwig called the earlier steward to come with him and both started walked hastily to the men Ludwig has shot earlier. The victim is all spread in the once beautiful garden. Some are dead beyond any saving, Ludwig has been quite a marksman in his shot tonight after all. But other, very few other still groan in pain, alive yet wishing that death would come soon. The bullet wounds made them unable to leave, just waiting for death from blood loss to happen anytime soon, but Ludwig will deny them of such right. They're still savages, even if they are white, to broke the code of honor and act like some kind of brute African tribe will forever brand them as savage in Ludwig's eyes. But he's not one of unprofessional doctor to leave them to die like he did earlier. His hand move fast, saving them away from the gate of hell. The steward, now Ludwig know is called Timothy, become his assistant in this make-shift surgeon.

"Why...would ye save us after we're trying you burn to hell, ye damn Krauts?" Ask one of the man before screamed in agony as Ludwig take the bullet of one of his leg.

"Because I'm a doctor, a civilized person, and a noble who need to uphold his honor. You cretins didn't deserve this, but its better for you to be alive in the name of me not disregarding Hippocratic oath. Jetzt halt die Klappe , wird diese wie die Hölle weh!" Ludwig answered with his most heavy Austrian accent before pushing his feet to make sure blood loss was minimal.

[Lancearc]

The Estate of Lord Jamison Gould
April 9, 1912
8:30 AM

Lord Gould had received no rest for the remainder of that early morning, barricading himself within his study and contemplating, thinking, drinking, Would he be able to hold each of the adventurers within his service, after the words the Major Hill had loosed regarding the Egyptian woman? This was the primary concern on his mind as he held his head up with his hands, tangled in his messy hair, eyelids threatening to shut and envelop him in a slumber which he fought against with as much resolution as he could muster after all of the events of the previous night. He wished that he could recall where his cigars were. He most certainly could have used one of them at the moment.

Near immediately after the skirmish was concluded he'd had a bath drawn for all of his guests and himself, fully acknowledging that he too found himself caked in dried blood from the men he'd slain with his own hands. The time he spent reclining in the hot water was the only true relaxation Lord Gould could find after the encounter was over, and even then the bath water turning blood red the longer he stayed in the tub was unsettling, and the lord at that point was eager to remove himself from the warm bath as soon as possible. He'd changed into a large, purple dyed robe of what was most likely bison skin from his time hunting the creatures in North America, as it bore that same texture as the mounted head in the sitting room.

Earlier that morning the constables had arrived in force, though Lord Gould's steward had overseen the removal of some of the more...grisly carnage left behind after the assault. The law enforcement would only find men with bullets embedded in their bodies, the wounded that Doctor Ehrenreich had seen to, and those that Lord Gould had dispatched himself. No mention of any scalping was to be made to any of the officers, of that Lord Gould made sure each of his employees was well aware, though he could not be certain that his companions hadn't gone and spoke of the incident.

A few of the officers still patrolled the gardens outside, bodies still waiting to be taken away as they lie silent under white sheets, some of which were stained red here and there with the blood of the men they enshrouded. What had become of the scalped man's corpse he hadn't the faintest clue, nor did he want to know, though he had instructed his steward to give the man a proper Christian burial. He also instructed him to never speak of the matter to him again.

Just as his thoughts turned to his chat with his beloved steward, the man himself entered the study with a quiet, polite knock before opening the door upon hearing no objection. He closed it just as quietly behind him, holding an envelope in his hand. "Well?" Lord Gould asked somewhat snappily, quite irritated due to his lack of sleep. "I apologize, Timothy. It's been quite a stressful evening and I only wish to be on my way." he sighed, gesturing for his steward to step forward.

"It's addressed to you, My Lord. It's arrived this morning from the French Protectorate of Morocco." he spoke, the Lord Gould raising an eyebrow in curiosity.

"French Protectorate? Have I missed something?" he asked, his Steward replying.

"The Moors were brought under Protectorate status due to the terms of a treaty signed on March 30th My Lord. Quite recent." he added with a nod. He then handed the correspondence to Lord Gould, who took the message and opened it, setting it down on his desk.

My Dear Jamison,

It has been so long since you've come to visit! I do hope you are doing well my love. I hear tell that you've hatched just recently an ambitious plan to acquire the rest of the world's lost wealth, as if you've not already horded enough of it for yourself. I happen to take a great interest in this, and in you, and I must insist that you and your entourage travel to my home in Casablanca to discuss a matter which you may find intriguing considering your goals. I know that you will not be able to resist, and hope to see you soon, so that I may assist you in the pursuit of the riches you seek. Please make haste, I know that you've never been able to refuse me my dearest.

Until your arrival, Forever your Sweet,

Adèle

The lord set the letter down with a curious expression, and Timothy spoke up. "An old flame of yours, I take it?" he poked fun at Lord Gould, who felt heat rushing to his cheeks uncontrollably.

"No! No, not exactly, but...well, yes, it's...a complicated tale. I thought I'd taught you better than to read a man's letters." he frowned, though his cheeks were red as beets and it was difficult to take him seriously. "No matter who it is, she seems to have a direction for my ambitions...something that I, admittedly, struggle to find." he spoke somewhat embarrassed.

"Then perhaps it would be wise to pay your, um...friend a visit." Timothy said with a smirk. "If only to cover the bases. Perhaps she truly has word of some mythical treasures for you to pursue. How would such a woman have that knowledge, if I may ask?"

Lord Gould stood, shaking his head. "She's much more than she seems." was his simple answer.

---

Lord Gould's guests would soon be approached by a maiden, or a butler of his, with the same message to each of them. "Lord Gould has invited his guests into London for a day trip, and extends the courtesy of covering the expenses of all clothing, personal items, and anything else the lords and ladies my wish to purchase." this initial invitation being followed by a pause.

"If the lords and ladies wish to seek more...weaponized purchases, the Lord Gould also has pledged to cover the expenses of any preferred firearms or other weaponry as well, from a trusted dealer who often works closely with the lord and his associates."

With that, the Lord's employees would return to their duties about the estate, as if nothing had happened.

[The Ik Ka Ek Akai]

Ese had, in the confusion of the previous night, retreated to her own room with a heavy heart. A bath drawn for her, she silently took the pleasure of warm water and became lost in thought. This act that she had just committed, this fight that had just occurred, and her own violent reactions to it. Was it all necessary? The man was going to hit her over the head with an iron pipe, hardly a gentlemanly thing to do, and seeing the fate of the maids, her unconscious form almost certainly would've suffered defilement before she found her throat slit as she lay helpless and concussed. She went over these things in her mind over and over again, the lord she had spoken to in the museum calling her a barbarian, a savage, and demanding her removal from the estate and the team. She mulled over this point, never finding a satisfactory answer. By committing the acts that she had, she had saved the life of a man by convincing him to go peacefully and without fight, and saved even more lives by ensuring that man would convince all the poor and drunk to never again launch an assault. Even still, she felt guilt and shame at her heinous behavior.

Stepping out from the bath, she took her bloodied clothes and fetched a bucket of water from the nearest available source. Clean water, that is, and scrubbed tirelessly. Her jacket and boots cleaned easily, as leather did not absorb and stain with the blood nearly as much, nor did her latex gloves, which was entirely the point of said gloves: in past days, chemicals would simply slide right off, and now, the blood could be easily washed away. Her dress, however, suffered immensely, particularly the skirt. Scrubbing all through the night, dipping a rag into the water and assaulting the stains, rinse and repeat, Ese went like this for hours until the stains were all removed decisively, leaving little indication of the bloodbath that had previously occurred. Only then did she find herself returning to her bed and sleeping through the night, if only because she had endured so much emotion that day as to completely exhaust herself. The girl was plagued by horrid nightmares so long as the dark was dominant.

The girl had a restful, but troubled, sleep. The horrific images in her mind were twisted and unkind. Running, she experienced, running through a darkened hallway, the sound of footsteps and growls behind her. It was as if being pursued by rabid dogs, the sounds coming ever closer no matter how fast she ran. A light at the end of the hallway seemed so close, but she never got any closer, as the room would stretch to ensure she could never reach her joyous escape to freedom. Torchlight began to illuminate the dark hallway as Ese saw hundreds of old statues looking down at her angrily, and she was tackled to the floor. The ground disappearing, she fell through into a dark room where she found herself manacled, her pasha standing before her with a wicked grin. A British constable stood next to him on either side, and she attempted to scream before finding her mouth stitched shut. As the trio approached in unison, she flinched and tried to scream once more.

The gentle morning light shone on Ese's face, and she awoke from her nightmare in a literal cold sweat, if just barely. She did not bolt upright, or scream as she awoke, but she was shaken by the dream. Standing up and looking outside, she saw the police covering up bodies. Considering she had not awoken to a cell, and given the circumstances of all that occurred the previous night, she had trust that Lord Gould had somehow taken care of the situation. Slipping into her dress and lacing up her boots, she grabbed her jacket and gloves and put them on as she made her way to the commons area, checking carefully around each and every corner to ensure that Lord Charles would not lay his damning gaze upon her. Stumbling into the room which Lord Gould himself was waiting in, she once more checked for Lord Charles Hill before quietly stepping in, head lowered, and remaining without speech.

[Lancearc]

Lord Gould was surprised when Ese found her way into the study so early that morning, given the events of the previous night. She would find him examining the document on his desk, with rose petals spilling out from the envelope which the letter had arrived on to cover a small area of the Lord's desk as he reread the paper numerous times. He glanced up from his scrutiny of the letter in front of him, realizing that the rose petals scattered about his desk probably made for an unusual and confusing scene, Lord Gould's cheeks again flushing just slightly with color and Timothy getting a chuckle out of the sight from his position near the door of the study, Gould clearing his throat before speaking. "Good morning, my lady." he smiled slightly as was his usual way, setting the correspondence down in front of him and disregarding the flowery attempts at romance from the sender for now.

"I do hope you slept well dear, after all the..." he started, shaking his head and leaving the sentence unfinished. "You look much better this morning Ese. I do hope you can forgive me, I have no idea why these men would look to harm me, or any of my guests." he stated in genuine confusion, nonchalantly fiddling with one of the flowery bits between his index and middle fingers, a bit uncomfortable at the silence the girl displayed. "Perhaps you'd like breakfast before we depart soon? I intend on making sure everyone is quite prepared for our journey. We have a lead, just recently." he smiled, lifting the letter from his desk and displaying it, though he was careful not to reveal its writing to save himself any more embarrassment, a few of the flower petals drifting down to his desk as he lifted the paper.

[The Ik Ka Ek Akai]

It was only after a few more moments of silence that she bothered to properly observe the room around her. Strangely, the petals of various roses scattered across and Lord Gould himself holding a letter in-hand. Realizing she may have stumbled in at a bad time, she prepared to leave just as he began to converse with her. He wished a good sleep upon her, followed by a compliment and an apology. An apology? For what? In Ese's eyes, she had been the transgressor. Lord Gould had shown kindness in all matters, so this gave her a brief moment of genuine confusion in which she remained silent. Lastly, he offered her breakfast and mentioned that a new lead had appeared. Although this piqued her curiosity and interest, she dared not to mention it as such, still feeling upset about her behavior the previous night.

"My appetite is spoiled, Lord Gould, and I did not sleep well. As if cursed from the heavens above for what I did, my night was...nightmarish. I had dreams of...the Pasha...and the constables." She lifted her head to look outside, "Myself hunted down by Apep to be returned to the Pasha once more. I..." she sighed, "Did not have a good rest." she finished her little recollection there and knelt down to pick up a few rose petals. Holding them in her hand, she got a faint, if brief, smile at their natural beauty. Flowers could always be appreciated, a beacon of color and hope and joy even in the darkest of times. "Forgive my trespasses, Lord Gould. I understand if you wish to send me back to Egypt. I know you cannot sacrifice Lord Hill for my sake."

[Lancearc]

Lord Gould could understand why Ese had been plagued with nightmares after the previous night's affairs. He himself may have found himself beset by these same terrors if he'd actually managed to find sleep, although he had seen combat before it was always man to man and quite honorable. This was an attack on him in his own home, blood spilled in his estate in front of his guests. He was sad to hear of her restless slumber, and was surprised when she put forward sending her back to Egypt. "Trespasses? Nonsense." he sighed, standing and dropping the letter on his desk, turning to gaze out of the Study window. The officers were taking the corpses away by then, loading them onto a waiting, lengthy carriage likely designed for such morbid work."Not once has the thought crossed my mind, dear. Major Hill I'm afraid will simply have to accept your presence. I know I cannot lose the man, but I can scarcely afford to lose any of you lot. I've brought you all here because I perceive I need for the roles you will fill." he stated simply, crossing his arms as he observed the carriage pulling away, the constables with it. The garden was now empty, as he greatly preferred it.

"No one is being sent home, especially before I've fulfilled my end of the bargain. My promises." he recalled. The promises in the letter. The pledge to the girl in his office, observing the petal that had fallen to the floor between her fingers. He couldn't forgive himself if he sent her or anyone back to their lives before without making good on what he had committed to.

[Great Confederacy of Commonwealth States]

“Thank you, dear. I’ll convey my answer to lord Gould myself in a moment” Charles said to the handmaiden, who disappeared as quickly as she’d come to his door. Charles didn’t look up, he was focussed too much. The quiet, cold morning had given him room to think. He had opened his window wholly, allowing the fresh spring air to fill his room with the scent of flowers and young grass. It was something pictures did not convey, but for Charles, the scents were a prime motivator for travel. No matter how a place looked, no matter how closely linked places were, every country smelled differently. Every different land within the empire had her own distinct scents and odours, each working together with the landscape to form a truly unique experience. As Charles stared into his mirror, observing his blue-red yeomanry uniform, he took up the smell. Strange, it was the first time he’d done that in Britain. Never had he treated it like a foreign place before, looking at it with new eyes. Britain had always looked like a scentless home to him, the boring old place he grew up in. He had always been home at home. Now, for the first time, Charles took up the experience that was England. He smiled slightly. The island wasn’t so bad yet… It was a place he could return to, in time.

But now, he had to go with Gould. His curiosity had been relentlessly sparked by the story of a lost city in Africa, with houses made from white gold and precious necklaces that rivalled those of ancient Europe. A far-away destination, traveling with nothing but the packs of their saddle and what they had on them. One of those fabled journeys into the darklands. Charles thought about Africa, the vast plains and dense jungles that covered the immense continent. Ow, how could he resist? Had he not fallen in love with it the first time he laid eyes upon her golden shores? Had it not given them the gift of love? He smiled again, this time a smile that curled from ear to ear. No, he had no choice. He had to see Africa one last time, at least before his son would take up most of his time. He was still young, and his absence would not do too much damage yet. When would the next chance be for such a miraculous journey? At least eighteen years until young William came of age. And then? Perhaps he would be too old by then, or too settled. No, he could not have it. He was going, no matter what.

A few minutes later, Charles entered the room of lord Gould. He’d knocked, of course, but immediately after he’d chosen to enter. There was little time to waste, after all. He poked his head around the corner, trying to see if he could find Gould in there. Indeed, the lord was present, together with Timothy and Ese. Ese… Charles swallowed for a moment, before entering the room wholly.

“Excuse me, my lord. I would wait outside, but I fear I don’t have much time. My wife expects me home before luncheon, and this sword is not enough to protect me if I come home late”

He smiled, continuing with a more formal tone.

“I’m afraid, my lord, that I won’t be coming to London with the group. I have plenty of supplies lying at home, and I believe to be prepared for this trip. I’ll be returning to my house at Eaton Square in a moment. There, I will ready myself for the journey. Of course, if your lordship wishes, the whole group”

He looked at Ese for a moment, just short enough to be noticed.

“the whole group is invited to join me and my family for dinner tonight. I believe Victoria Station and Eaton Square are closer to central London than your own estate, my lord. I hope I bring no injury in declining your hospitable offer”

[Lancearc]

A knock on the door interrupted Gould and his counseling the Egyptian lady standing before him in his study, watching as the man offered a quick peek inside, before withdrawing for a brief moment and reentering fully, receiving the visitor with a nod as he stepped to the front of his desk, leaning slightly backwards onto the top of the sturdy furniture. Folding his hands in front of him and wishing now that he had changed into something more proper for receiving his home's guests, he offered a slight chuckle at the Major's observation of his fate should he not be back home to his spouse at the time she expected. "I would hate to be the man who was the cause of such fury being unleashed upon you, Major Hill." Lord Gould conceded, giving his permission in this way.

The invitation which the major extended surprised him slightly, and even more so when he reaffirmed that the entirety of their travelling party was invited to his home. It was a pleasant surprise of course, as he'd been perceptive of the slight glance Major Hill had directed to Ese during his invite. "No harm at all, Major. It would be my pleasure to meet your family of course, I must somehow thank your wife for allowing you to accompany me on these foolish escapades across the world." Lord Gould accepted the invitation readily.

"I'm sure the others will be just as eager. I've just received a bit of information from an old associate which gives us a destination, we're to sail for the newly dubbed French Protectorate in Morocco as soon as possible." he revealed, again displaying the letter which he'd received that morning. "Again, I'm certain that your beloved will be quite pleased to have some inkling of your whereabouts."

[The Ik Ka Ek Akai]

Ese had been enjoying the flower petals in her hand. They were soft, delicate, and beautiful, just as flowers ought to be. She'd heard legends of flowers in distant jungles that bore a most repugnant scent, with vivid colors that ultimately clashed with one another and assaulted the eyes. A gentle rose, however, was a sweet thing, and rosewater let one experience the sweetness of the rose in a new light. Taking this into mind, Ese gripped the petals in her hand and gave a mental note to herself to grab some water to soak them in before they were to leave, perhaps taking it along in a flask, that she may create some of her own home-made rosewater to share with the other fine guests that accompanied Lord Gould. Fine guests indeed. She had to stop a moment to contemplate of her choice of mental wording there so that she may remind herself of the one she wanted most to avoid, just as said guest poked his head through the door to the room.

Remembering the harsh words he had said to her last night as she wept in remorse and guilt with excruciating detail, she began trying to slink away, being small in her footsteps to not make them noticeably echo. She listened to Lord Hill's conversation with Lord Gould, their exchange of pleasantries and wit as if the night of the previous event had not occurred. Scanning the room, Lord Hill locked his eyes on Ese for just the slightest moment, but it was enough for her to lock and and made a distinctive wince at his glare. Her eyes shut and she clenched up, as if expecting something bad to happen. The man said no words to her, although she could feel his acidic gaze burning through her false cover. At last, after what seemed like eternity, he spoke once more to invite the whole group, Ese herself implied to be included, to a dinner with his wife. Ese, once more, fell to curiosity and opened her eyes as the man seemed to turn his attention back to Lord Gould.

She began to question why he wouldn't exclude her. Perhaps he did not mean to call her a savage earlier? Had that been done in the heat of the moment? Or, perhaps, he just wanted to get on the better side of Lord Gould, not caring if the usually quiet girl sat at the end of his table for an hour to do so. She would remain all too silent until Lord Hill made his leave, at which point she took a deep breath an uttered plainly, "I do not like that man. He terrifies me." She was, for the first time, seemingly brutally honest in her words. Her usual soft-spoken, tender speech had been shaken and disturbed that, while she still sounded soft in her actual speech, her wording was much more harsh than it had ever been before while the girl was in her own mind when talking, unlike the previous night wherein she let a combination of instinct and mimicry take over for a brief moment or two.

Letting out a prolonged sigh, she spoke once more, sounding a bit more tired than she had previously. "Lord Gould, could I trouble you for a flask or a skin of water?"

[Lancearc]

Throughout his exchange with Major Hill he'd peripherally noticed taken note of Ese's reaction to the major's presence. She grew silent once more, timidly avoiding the gaze of the other three occupants of the room, taking miniature steps the opposite direction while the Major and himself spoke as honest friends. His presence unnerved her, but his gaze seemed to actually cause her to wince as if in pain, afflicted by some pinching pain or startled by a sudden noise. Despite the fact that she was invited to meet the Major's family just like the rest of the Lord's visitors, she still didn't soften her opinion of the man, though he could understand her trepidation and unwillingness to fully trust the man, or trust that he would be friendly to her.

After Charles' departure she spoke on the terror he instilled in her, and he understood, though this wasn't something that could last. "The major is a good man. Perhaps more than a bit distrusting of...non-Europeans. He's certainly seen his share of atrocities from the African tribes, given his years of service. I believe he is a just man, all the same." he offered. Gould couldn't assure her that he would grow to trust her after what he and the Major had experienced, nor that he would even speak to her the same as he had in the museum, but he could attempt to reassure her that he would not hold a prejudice towards her forever.

"I'll fetch that skin for you, madame." Timothy had answered before the Lord had even responded, with a dutiful bow and a quiet exit from the room.

"I'm sure he would tell you that I terrified him, once." Lord Gould laughed. "It is quite a tale." he added. He would have taken the time to recant it to her if his hand had not wander behind him, back to the letter on his desk. He gripped it with a sigh, taking it between his fingers.

"This...This terrifies me." he shared his own fear, as openly as she'd done with hers.

[The Ik Ka Ek Akai]

"I'll fetch that skin for you, madame." Timothy had answered before the Lord had even responded, with a dutiful bow and a quiet exit from the room.

"I'm sure he would tell you that I terrified him, once." Lord Gould laughed. "It is quite a tale." he added. He would have taken the time to recant it to her if his hand had not wander behind him, back to the letter on his desk. He gripped it with a sigh, taking it between his fingers.

"This...This terrifies me." he shared his own fear, as openly as she'd done with hers.

"Why is that?" she questioned. Of course, she knew next to nothing about the letter. She had not been there to bear witness to Lord Gould's servant mocking the contents, nor had she been granted a sight of the contents of the letter in question. All she knew about it was that it came with many rose petals which she could tastefully craft into a sweet, if leafy, drink, and that it had something to do with Moors. Ese then began to think of her time in Egypt, in which she had come to known several Berbers quite well, the closest thing to friends she truly saw in Egypt. It was Berbers that helped her escape to a city, even. Berbers that had helped her in her less-than-honorable trade. A fine people, in her mind, as she began to recollect the memories of years past, of times come and gone, among the wandering nomads of Africa.

After her escape from the Pasha's palace, a quiet countryside kasbah miles from the nearest city, Ese was in a fairly unfortunate position. She had been troublesome in the months past and found herself escaping simply by opportunity of nobody watching. Dragging along heavy chains fastened to her, she fled into the sands to meet a camp of nearby Berbers. While she certainly could've found a city, and the Nile, soon enough without their help, they offered her sanctuary and protection, breaking the chains which shackled her, and gave her water to drink and a camp to follow to the Nile, at which point she was close enough to a city to survive. Although her life in the city was fairly bad, she was free, and she never forgot the goodly men who had provided her with such great aid.

After her moments of contemplation and presumably Lord Gould giving her a response to her inquiry, she was handed a wineskin, empty, which she would then dip in a pale of water and drop the petals in, sealing the top and shaking the water around a bit. After not too long, she began to try to crush and grind the petals with her hands as they floated in the water. It took less than a minute before she felt satisfied to simply let whatever form the petals were in to just sit in the bag for a while, long enough to let the rose oils bleed into the water and provide it the distinctive rose flavor that Middle Eastern drinks so often had.

[Lancearc]

"Adèle Michaud, that's why." Lord Gould sighed. The mention of the name itself was enough to illicit a smirk from Timothy, who spoke whilst enduring a harsh glare from Lord Gould.

"Forever your sweet." Timothy teased, causing his lord to blush behind the intense glare that was cast upon the Irishman like a heavy blow. Lord Gould cleared his throat in his embarrassment, frowning.

"An old um...friend." he stated simply. "My father and her own were quite close, so we often spent time together. I would play my part as a gentleman and escort her in the gardens or she would show me through the streets of Paris, or ride in the Norman countryside. Her family still owns numerous estates in France I believe, perhaps even a few in the Caribbean the last I was made aware." he smiled at these memories. "She was quite beautiful and we got along well. There may have been a...relationship." he stopped here, but Timothy was more than happy to take the reigns.

"I recall now, My Lord. His lady love broke our poor Lord Gould's heart." Timothy said, though this wasn't as teasing as it was before. "Seems the Lady Michaud has a suitor here in England, one in Paris, a plantation owner in the Americas, a governor in Africa..." he listed off those that he knew of, much to the chagrin of his employer.

"Yes, I was very young and very stupid, thank you." Lord Gould interjected. "And why she has taken an interest in our affairs is beyond me. Seeing her again after the years terrifies me to no end and I haven't the faintest idea why."

[Stadenwick]

Ludwig didn't sleep at all after the whole thing, spending the rest of the night trying to save the miscreants who attacked him and his host in the middle of night. It's crazy, and while he did grumble in german through the entire thing, in the end he manages to makes sure some of them to be alive enough to still see their family again after the whole incident, though perhaps only through the cold bars of jails after what they did to poor Lord Gould manor and garden. Still, it is a privilege the dead cannot ask for, and personally, Ludwig did feel better doing this, the cold air around him that he has after the shooting has completely dissipate into this air, leaving the usual warm atmosphere of a friendly Austrian doctor around him. He even personally oversee the law enforcer to not be so rough with his patient.

Ja, this is what his mother would like him to do, even if the blood of his father that runs in his veins loath such sentimentality.

---

After the whole thing wrapped it up by itself, and his patients is all but taken away, Ludwig decided to roam around in the somewhat ruined garden instead going back to his room. His hands is soiled with dry blood, though because he was saving others than hurting them, and he finds himself reluctant to wash them away. It was proof that he is a still a doctor, a civilized job whose hands dirtied with blood of other not by shooting leads or plunging steel knife, but by taking away ailments from their body. Yes, he is still a murderer, an Austrian who in the midst of cold-blooded self defense, act savage too among other thing to let that catholic drown in its own blood. But he repay it with saving other, isn't he? Can saving another truly repay the sin that he has done to his humanity? his nobility? Ludwig cannot know, or will he ever know the answer. All he could do is living through it all, bearing the sin with him, and try to repay it while he can still breath in this mortal realm.

The cold crisp air morning of London may not match the freshness of Alpine Ludwig had back in his homeland, but it have something else to offer. The sea salt that mixed with it, the smog of the industrialized area that choke it, and the exotic scent of the aristocrat gardens, filled with all sort of plants all around the world, they all make what Britain it is. It's an odd feeling, to feel like you finally realized that you are not back in your home, but on stranger land with their own strange way. This is not the place where his noble von Ehrenreich views would just be accepted as a norm, a noble one at that, but contested with local values who has developed their own way of living. Looking up, he can see Major Hill's bedroom window opened. He's a noble like himself, who has experienced different kind of war, to develop values so far from his, but war is all the same, and both know that there's no honor in killing, only remorse and somber thought that follow them. At least, for civilized people like them, Ludwig still can hardly think that Osman and Serbian feel the same way like he did.

His rail of thought would soon be broken by an approaching maid, bowing politely to him as proper and tell him the message their lord has tasked them to carry to him. Ludwig thanked her, and watch her left to do her duties like nothing ever happened. What a stoicism and professionalism to have. Ludwig left his useless roam around the garden and walk to manor, through the great door and broken windows which now has finally see calm enough to be taken care by the stewards. He reached the stair...the corridors...all now become clear after last night, there's no room for being lost again, and soon enough he arrived at the door of Lord Gould room. He knocked, like all proper gentlemen should, but he cannot wait around to be invited in. He enter the room as soon as he opened the door, and only to find that two other guest have preceded him. The Egyptian women, and Major Hill himself. He hung his head in shame for several second after seeing him, but hearing the invitation he made, he raised his head in question.

And noticing the weird look he gave to the Egyptian women Ludwig could not help to be more curious. Did something happen between them?

Alas, he will not know what's on the head of the British soldier. Hill hasn't even look to him yet, either because he haven't noticed Ludwig's arrival or simply avoiding the Austrian man until he leaves the room. All he knew is he invited, and that Lord Gould is now close to the barbaric-hailing woman? He can't help but feel like he's missing something, either when he's lost in the manor or defending the front entrance. But he knew when he's not welcomed, and he leave the room as well like Major Hill did. In front of the door, he can see that the man in question is not so far away from him, and Ludwig knew he need to chase the Englishmen to say his apology.

"Major Hill! Sir!" Ludwig called as he fast-walk to his direction. "I'm here to say my postponed proper apology to you. I'm sorry, you were right. I shouldn't just let that misguided fellow died like that. I could at least, as a civilized and proper doctor, ease him in his final times. My hand dirtied with his blood forever, and I could never wash it. But I wouldn't hang my Hippocratic oath just yet, my judgment has left me for the better in the midst of battle, but I take up your...advice, and helped those who I have hurt. You were right, I have sworn a solemn vow to care for the sick and wounded, and I thanked you for not letting me forget them last night."

[Great Confederacy of Commonwealth States]

Tongues of fire on Idris flaring
News of foe-men near declaring
To heroic deeds of daring
Call you, Harlech men…

Smoothly, the police carriage drove through the London streets. The roads were quite busy, as Tuesdays always had that extra load of traffic. Luckily, it wasn’t a Monday, as Mondays saw all the grocers buying their goods for the week. Tuesdays come close, though, and the city was bustling with activity. Pedestrians tried to get to work, carts pulled goods from street to passing street, newspaper boys tried to do their job the best they could. Charles, with the solemn face that fitted his uniform, stared out the window of the carriage. He tried to sit upright, but every time his head would drift off against the side, trying to find a comfortable place to rest his weary head. Through the thin glass of the carriage, he could hear the newspaper boys shout the headlines to draw in curious customers.

“Miner strikes end, Parliament agrees to minimum wage! Read all about it!”

Charles puffed. Minimum wage. He’d followed the events of the coal miner strike closely, taking particular interest in the action because his brother owned a few coal mines in the North. While Charles himself had more money in Indian and African plantations, the income of his brother and the Hill Estate was always of substantial interest to him. Now, it seemed the coal business was going to be far less profitable. Not that it was a problem. Coal was still the number one energy source in the world, and Charles didn’t expect to see an end to that. Perhaps in thirty, forty years, but for now, the coal trade was quite safe. This was a blow, of course, but Charles wasn’t really worried. He consoled himself with the idea that fewer families would go hungry, although he feared that this minimum wage would actually lead to a decrease of job opportunities for the poorer classes. He had opposed the idea, after all, but he couldn’t really be bothered with the result. With the increase in popular suffrage, it was only a matter of time before these issues were addressed. Parliament did so like their cushy seats.

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Eventually, the carriage rolled into Eaton Square. It was one of the wealthier neighbourhoods of London, a mixture between being close to the city centre and having all the luxury a rich family could desire. Of course, with Charles not being a lord, he could not afford the same manor his brother or lord Gould would own. It wasn’t bad, though, and for a second son of the family, he had done quite well for himself. A renowned war hero, a veteran of the Boer War, with sizeable lands in Africa and India, Charles really had a lot going for him. It was the perfect place for his son to grow up in, too. There were a number of wealthy families with children that lived near Eaton Square, as well as a few outstanding schools for young children. Little William had his life ahead of him, and it couldn’t look brighter. The British Empire was at her peak, after all, and showed no signs of declining any time soon.

“Thanks for the ride, Bromley!” Charles exclaimed as he got out of the carriage.

“No problem, major” the moustachioed man answered, giving his horses the command to ride on. “I’ll keep you informed about the case!” he said, before riding off back to his station. Charles straightened his uniform, grabbed his sword hilt with his left hand, and made the few strides necessary to reach the front door of his house. After a short push of the doorbell, the door was quickly pulled open by Henry. It was one of the perks of having a somewhat smaller house, the butler could reach the door in an instant. Charles was met with a happy smile from Henry, who quickly stepped aside to let him in.

“Good morning, major!” he said gleefully, bowing slightly as the master of the house passed.

“How was the visit to lord Gould?”

Charles smiled, and patted the man on the shoulder. “Quite good, Henry. Quite good…” he said with a smirk, which was answered by a little bit of confusion from the butler. Nevertheless, he followed his lord readily.

“Also, Henry, we’re having guests over tonight. I expect half a dozen people to come over for dinner. Could you get the right people for the job?” Charles asked, still walking straight ahead through the corridors of his home. Henry thought for a moment but answered decisively.

“Aye, sir. I know just the people. Any special requests?”

Charles thought for a moment, standing still right before the door to the salon. He looked over his shoulder.

“Make sure everything I prepared according to Islamic tradition.” He said, before opening the door. Henry bowed, turned around, and walked straight out the front door. There was a small business around the corner that could make brilliant meals for a lavish dinner, while still maintaining a small price tag. As the house of the Hills was too small for a specialised cooking staff, it was often there that they got their more indulgent meals for parties and whatnot.

[The Ik Ka Ek Akai]

Ese found actual, genuine amusement in the poor Lord's situation. While she had previously been in something of a somber mood, it had lightened considerably with Lord Hill's departure and the nonchalant, even informal, conversation occurring otherwise. Blushing slightly with a smile on her face, Ese put her hand to her mouth and coughed into it, "Shall I...leave you and the letter alone?" she questioned jokingly, perhaps trying to garner a laugh from anyone but herself, or perhaps just trying to lighten the mood. Whatever the case, it had been said, and Ese seemed to hold, evidently, no true regrets over making the poorly executed and improvised joke.

She did had some serious thoughts in her mind, though. These mostly detailed what Lord Hill might be planning, why he had only given her a look and not more derisive commentary, and especially why she had not been uninvited to his dinner. Just the prior night, he was threatening to leave over her presence, and now he was inviting her to dinner? Quite strange, indeed. What was likewise strange was this woman contacted Lord Gould after such a long period of silence, and from Morocco as well. The circumstances were, suffice to say, just a little bit past the threshold of unordinary.

[Port Alexander]

V: To The Shores of Tripoli.

The carnage that had engulfed the estate had, much to everyone's relief, ended and it was now the following day. Sir Godfrey had already retired to his quarters, bathed and then got dressed - once again he wore a sharp tailored suit made of the finest materials.

Up until now, he had tested the water - he was analysing and building up mental profiles for all of Lord Gould's guests and even the Lord himself. This information would come in useful later on. However, Godfrey thought that it was best now to engage more fully with his counterparts and so, walking with the same usual pomp and circumstance, he made his was to where Lord Gould and Ese were.

He found them conversing with one another as well as noticing the correspondence that dictated their next port of call was Casablanca.

"Pardon the interruption, Lord Gould and Lady Ese, I thought it best that before our arduous journey that I better acquaint myself with you both." When Godfrey next saw Major Hill, the Doctor and the others he planned also to learn more about them.

"What exactly do you expect that we will encounter in North Africa?" He asked to neither the Lord or Ese in particular, just trying to make conversation. "I attempted to traverse the Sahara Desert once, however the expedition was cut short due to my contraction of Malaria - a ghastly ailment indeed." As Godfrey said this he recalled briefly the horrifying symptoms of the Mosquito-borne killer - the cold sweats and the thumping headaches. "As such I do have many contacts in Casabalnca but also further afield: Marrakech, Tripoli, Cairo and the like. If you require their insider knowledge and assistance don't hesitate to call on me and I will, promptly, put you in contact with them."

Godfrey relaxed slightly, now that the initial introduction was over - he knew these things often ended in embarrassment, especially for him.

[Lancearc]

Ese's comment caused the Lord's embarrassment only to grow, though it proved to be quite amusing to the steward of his estates. Looking down and setting the letter back on the mahogany desktop at his back he sighed, crossing his arms over his chest. "I suppose that what's you can expect when you fall in love." he pouted pitifully, Timothy's fading laughter filling the void for a few moments after the lord had apparently left what could be considered a talking mood. A knock at the door brought him back from his self-pity vacation into the mind however, and he uttered a polite 'Come in' before noting the arrival of Sir Godfrey. He stood with more proper posture, perhaps believing that the simple act may help his mood, however slightly.

"No interruption at all Godfrey, good morning to you." Lord Gould smiled, attempting to regain some of his earlier pep. Godfrey's first inquiries were concerning their destination -- what they may expect, a tale of a failed voyage across the great Sand Sea that was the Sahara desert. A dreadful place where few men dared to tread, no doubt. Lord Gould had never been himself, and quite frankly had no desire to ever find himself there if he could avoid it. "Well, I expect we'll find Frenchmen, due to recent occurrences." he joked lightly. "Aside...I've not the faintest clue. I would advise being prepared for any situation, but I'm sure you already knew that."

Hearing that the gentleman had connections in the cities dotting the North African coast renewed the Lord Gould's confidence in the expedition. Though he too had his sources of information on the continent, it had been ages since he'd sought any of them out, and he wondered if many of them were even still about the area. "They shall prove quite useful in our journey. I won't hesitate to have more information, of this you can be certain. It's something of a precious commodity, I find." Lord Gould agreed with the guest wholeheartedly.

"Ese dear, we shall have to depart soon to make good on my earlier promise. Godfrey, please feel free to join us for a bit of leisure. Major Hill has invited us to dinner hosted at his home this evening, so I expect some time to relax and to get the fair lady acquainted with London will do everyone some good after that awful debacle last night, for which I must continue to apologize."

[Shark isle]

Charles woke up and groaned. He had been lucky to survive the assualt on the manor the night before. As he got up, he realized he had a massive headache, mostly likely due to a hangover. He suddenly heard a knock on his door. When he opened the door, he saw one of Lord Gould's butlers, who explained to him that Lord Gould was offering a trip to London for supplies and weaponry. After hearing this, Charles walked into Lord Gould's study, nodded at Ese, and said to Lord Gould," Morning Gould, I wish to go to London to get some supplies."

[Lancearc]

Charles woke up and groaned. He had been lucky to survive the assualt on the manor the night before. As he got up, he realized he had a massive headache, mostly likely due to a hangover. He suddenly heard a knock on his door. When he opened the door, he saw one of Lord Gould's butlers, who explained to him that Lord Gould was offering a trip to London for supplies and weaponry. After hearing this, Charles walked into Lord Gould's study, nodded at Ese, and said to Lord Gould," Morning Gould, I wish to go to London to get some supplies."

Lord Gould was happy to receive another of his honored guests safe and sound after the previous evening's violent assault on his home, observing the American as he entered the room. Gould could detect what was perhaps the dying scent of alcohol on the man's breath as he spoke quite bluntly and almost rudely, although Jamison supposed that was to be expected from an American, especially one of the man's less-than-reputable background. Despite his father's wealth and quite civilized and mannerly lifestyle, his son clearly was not the same man. Luckily for the lord of course, given his skillset. "Then you'll be quite pleased to know that we're prepared to depart, I've instructed a few of my hands to have my carriage brought at once." he confirmed to Greystone with a matter-of-fact nod. It would do him some good to get away from home given the recent stresses, from slaughtering drunkards to the actual thought and planning behind gathering his companions in the first place.

"Hopefully our fair lady is quite finished teasing the man who will be getting her more familiar with western fashions, he could very easily make her appear very foolish." Lord Gould joked with Ese with a smirk as he gazed back at her smiling countenance, still amused from her earlier jabs at him, his cheeks still colored from embarrassment.

"As for you Greystone, what do you intend to find? I know many men who share your...disposition towards violence, as it were." Gould inquired curiously.