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Description
Trinovantum, noble capital of Bremia. A city of great power and wealth. The seat of the royals and the heart of an empire.

As much wealth as this city attracted, it also housed the poor, the desperate, the destitute, the wretched masses huddled together under the arches around fires made from the droppings of dogs and the leavings of the rich. The smell coated everything it touched, the smoke wreathed around all the unfortunates there.

But that night, not all present were unfortunate.

With a drag on his meerschaum, the embers glowed brightly on closed eyelids as Major Cathcart maintained his night vision. This was not war, he was no longer in battle, but old habits die hard. He moved silently from one shadow to another when the embers slept some more and once again he became the second darkest shadow. He kept his eyes on the darkest shadows. 'Never be in the darkest shadows, you never know who you'll bump into.' the words of his mentor, an engineer of note resounding in his head.

And just there, was the sound of someone carefully making no sound at all.

"Nature abhors a vacuum. Come on out where I can see you."

The soft sound of a hammer being cocked and soft tones of the south Vernian agent by Wainwright's ear. "Which means you cannot see me now. Advantage mine, I think?"

"Only if you had the flint to fire, Rousseau." Rausseau looked down to find his pistol impotent and robbed of function with an empty dog-head.

The Vernian could only smile. "Ever the pickpocket James."

"Aye, and for a spy you're ever the showoff Charles."

"Why are we here, mon ami?" Rousseau holstered his weapon and Cathcart turned to face him, offering his companion some tobacco as the homeless around them continued their existence.

"Lian Cheng? You've heard the name?"

Rousseau took the tobacco to fill his own pipe. "Huaxian envoy of note. His family has the ear of the Emporer. Chose his manservant from the pugiliste elite, monsieur Hugh Fraser? Both have large debts and a fondness for cards, women and liquor . . . although perhaps not in that order. He name and prename both mean 'honest', although I have doubts as to their accuracy. Have I missed anything?"

"He has suddenly become homesick."

Rousseau raised an eyebrow, took a pin to pack the tobacco into the bowl of his clay pipe. "Vraiment?"

"He has convinced those at Horseguards that a missive to the emporer could coax an alliance where Bremia's air fleet attached to Huaxia's naval forces could form a greater defence against the Germauschen threat."

"A bribe? Paying Huaxia for their services?"

"A missive . . ." Cathcart knew damn well it was a bribe, but he wasn't going to as such " . . . to keep the greatest Naval fleet in the world out of Germauschen hands. He has the ear of a Bremian Duke."

"And the tongue of serpent, I take it Whitehall dissaproves?"

"Whitehall can dissaprove until it were blue in the face, makes no difference. Horseguards are a proud bunch of bastards."

"So Horseguards loses the bribe? They never want for a guinea or two."

"How about fifty thousand? A missive of fifty thousand guineas."

Rousseau did well to hide his suprise. "So you send a detail to cover the bribe? I'm sorry, 'missive'. "

"The world is watching."

"And Bremia cannot be seen to be clumsy. It would stink of desperation, no?"

"And by God we are desperate, if Germauschen were to turn Huaxia's naval fleet against us . . . " Cathcart didn't need to finish that sentence. " We have tried assigning a bodyguard to Lian Cheng, much against his wishes. Last night that bodyguard was found dead. This will not end well. We need someone to carry out the duties of seeing Mr. Cheng and the gold safe to Huaxia."

"Monsieur Lian . . . In Huaxia the family name is the prénom, the man's name is the surnom. So you are asking me for a Vernian detail to guard the bribe, I mean, missive . . . I mean, Monsieur Lian?"

"Actually no. We have a list. Those who are distant enough so that if they fail their ignomy dies with them, but close enough that we can pulls their strings. The list starts and ends in Vernia city." Cathcart held over a document with a blank wax seal.

Rousseau took the envelope, opened and read it grinning. "Their strings shall be pulled. We shall see your marionettes dance, but I do not think they will be happy about it."

"We wouldn't care, provided they do dance. Thank you Charles."

"It is nothing James, but if I might have my flint back?" Rousseau held out his hand for the pilfered flint. Cathcart handed the flint back to Rousseau. "If this were war, James, I would have killed you."

"If this were war Charles, you would not be in Trinovantum."

Rousseau laghed. "Of course, we would have renamed it 'Vernia Nova' perhaps? Give Whitehall my best."

"And my warmest regards to La Sécurité Extérieure."

Both men had quit the scene and once more the arches were the domain of the unfortunates that stayed warm by burning the shit of those richer than themselves. Hugh Fraser sank deeper into the darkest shadows.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

He would not touch the kings shilling, for to do so would be to accept his old commission. "Why?"

"Why not?" The Vernian captain asked. "You were ready to accept a legionnaire's wage."

"No, that's not my question. Why? Why me? A burnt out doctor who can't even get a job in a port. I've never been in a bodyguard detail."

"There will be others, and they might need you. Un autre cognac?" Lt. Jaques Bernard poured Sam another glass. "Think of what you might do with a thousand guineas. You could start your own practise here. Did you not have place in La Notre Dame de Souffrir Perpétuel?"

"I did." That place was well named. Too much suffering, not enough hope. "People did not go there to heal, they went there to die. It was nothing more than a waiting room for God."

"Would this not be a chance for you to be a real doctor again? You are allowed by your oath to turn this opportunity down? I think not. I think you will take your captaincy again."

Sam took the glass of cognac, swirled, sniffed and sipped. By thunder this was good stuff. "Not quite. To what do I owe the honour of this 'opportunity'?"

"You are in an unique position. You are not, nor will you be directly affiliated with your Whitehall office. You will be on detachment. You have fired a rifle before?"

"Muskets mostly, but yes, I think I could handle a rifle. With who am I to be attached to?"

"Soixante Neuvième régiment of rifles."

If Sam was impressed, he didn't show it. "I will not be asked to kill?" Sam levelled a cold eye on Bernard, who in turn was almost recoiled by the cold of the stare.

"Not asked, no."

Sam leaned forward, Bernard leaned back at first, but then resumed his stance. "Uniform?"

"You will be allowed to draw one from your stores."

"So if that is the carrot . . . what is the stick?"

"You had assets in Trinovantum?"

"Yes . . . I do." Sam glared at the Vernia.

"No . . . you 'had' assests in Trinovantum. Now you do not. If you want those assets returned, you will comply. If you do not comply not only will your assets be seized you will never work in Trinovantum, or any other hospital that knows of the General Board of Health."

Sam simply let the loathing show, Bernard shrank back from it. Sam wanted to say 'You can't do that' but he knew they could. "You bastards."

Sam leaned back and put on a pair of leather gloves. "You will leave the documents, I shall have them signed and dispatched." He picked up the kings shilling and turned it over in his paws. Glad for the gloves, he would not touch the kings shilling, for to do so would be to accept his fate.

Description
Trinovantum, noble capital of Bremia. A city of great power and wealth. The seat of the royals and the heart of an empire.

As much wealth as this city attracted, it also housed the poor, the desperate, the destitute, the wretched masses huddled together under the arches around fires made from the droppings of dogs and the leavings of the rich. The smell coated everything it touched, the smoke wreathed around all the unfortunates there.

But that night, not all present were unfortunate.

With a drag on his meerschaum, the embers glowed brightly on closed eyelids as Major Cathcart maintained his night vision. This was not war, he was no longer in battle, but old habits die hard. He moved silently from one shadow to another when the embers slept some more and once again he became the second darkest shadow. He kept his eyes on the darkest shadows. 'Never be in the darkest shadows, you never know who you'll bump into.' the words of his mentor, an engineer of note resounding in his head.

And just there, was the sound of someone carefully making no sound at all.

"Nature abhors a vacuum. Come on out where I can see you."

The soft sound of a hammer being cocked and soft tones of the south Vernian agent by Wainwright's ear. "Which means you cannot see me now. Advantage mine, I think?"

"Only if you had the flint to fire, Rousseau." Rausseau looked down to find his pistol impotent and robbed of function with an empty dog-head.

The Vernian could only smile. "Ever the pickpocket James."

"Aye, and for a spy you're ever the showoff Charles."

"Why are we here, mon ami?" Rousseau holstered his weapon and Cathcart turned to face him, offering his companion some tobacco as the homeless around them continued their existence.

"Lian Cheng? You've heard the name?"

Rousseau took the tobacco to fill his own pipe. "Huaxian envoy of note. His family has the ear of the Emporer. Chose his manservant from the pugiliste elite, monsieur Hugh Fraser? Both have large debts and a fondness for cards, women and liquor . . . although perhaps not in that order. He name and prename both mean 'honest', although I have doubts as to their accuracy. Have I missed anything?"

"He has suddenly become homesick."

Rousseau raised an eyebrow, took a pin to pack the tobacco into the bowl of his clay pipe. "Vraiment?"

"He has convinced those at Horseguards that a missive to the emporer could coax an alliance where Bremia's air fleet attached to Huaxia's naval forces could form a greater defence against the Germauschen threat."

"A bribe? Paying Huaxia for their services?"

"A missive . . ." Cathcart knew damn well it was a bribe, but he wasn't going to as such " . . . to keep the greatest Naval fleet in the world out of Germauschen hands. He has the ear of a Bremian Duke."

"And the tongue of serpent, I take it Whitehall dissaproves?"

"Whitehall can dissaprove until it were blue in the face, makes no difference. Horseguards are a proud bunch of bastards."

"So Horseguards loses the bribe? They never want for a guinea or two."

"How about fifty thousand? A missive of fifty thousand guineas."

Rousseau did well to hide his suprise. "So you send a detail to cover the bribe? I'm sorry, 'missive'. "

"The world is watching."

"And Bremia cannot be seen to be clumsy. It would stink of desperation, no?"

"And by God we are desperate, if Germauschen were to turn Huaxia's naval fleet against us . . . " Cathcart didn't need to finish that sentence. " We have tried assigning a bodyguard to Lian Cheng, much against his wishes. Last night that bodyguard was found dead. This will not end well. We need someone to carry out the duties of seeing Mr. Cheng and the gold safe to Huaxia."

"Monsieur Lian . . . In Huaxia the family name is the prénom, the man's name is the surnom. So you are asking me for a Vernian detail to guard the bribe, I mean, missive . . . I mean, Monsieur Lian?"

"Actually no. We have a list. Those who are distant enough so that if they fail their ignomy dies with them, but close enough that we can pulls their strings. The list starts and ends in Vernia city." Cathcart held over a document with a blank wax seal.

Rousseau took the envelope, opened and read it grinning. "Their strings shall be pulled. We shall see your marionettes dance, but I do not think they will be happy about it."

"We wouldn't care, provided they do dance. Thank you Charles."

"It is nothing James, but if I might have my flint back?" Rousseau held out his hand for the pilfered flint. Cathcart handed the flint back to Rousseau. "If this were war, James, I would have killed you."

"If this were war Charles, you would not be in Trinovantum."

Rousseau laghed. "Of course, we would have renamed it 'Vernia Nova' perhaps? Give Whitehall my best."

"And my warmest regards to La Sécurité Extérieure."

Both men had quit the scene and once more the arches were the domain of the unfortunates that stayed warm by burning the shit of those richer than themselves. Hugh Fraser sank deeper into the darkest shadows.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

He would not touch the kings shilling, for to do so would be to accept his old commission. "Why?"

"Why not?" The Vernian captain asked. "You were ready to accept a legionnaire's wage."

"No, that's not my question. Why? Why me? A burnt out doctor who can't even get a job in a port. I've never been in a bodyguard detail."

"There will be others, and they might need you. Un autre cognac?" Lt. Jaques Bernard poured Sam another glass. "Think of what you might do with a thousand guineas. You could start your own practise here. Did you not have place in La Notre Dame de Souffrir Perpétuel?"

"I did." That place was well named. Too much suffering, not enough hope. "People did not go there to heal, they went there to die. It was nothing more than a waiting room for God."

"Would this not be a chance for you to be a real doctor again? You are allowed by your oath to turn this opportunity down? I think not. I think you will take your captaincy again."

Sam took the glass of cognac, swirled, sniffed and sipped. By thunder this was good stuff. "Not quite. To what do I owe the honour of this 'opportunity'?"

"You are in an unique position. You are not, nor will you be directly affiliated with your Whitehall office. You will be on detachment. You have fired a rifle before?"

"Muskets mostly, but yes, I think I could handle a rifle. With who am I to be attached to?"

"Soixante Neuvième régiment of rifles."

If Sam was impressed, he didn't show it. "I will not be asked to kill?" Sam levelled a cold eye on Bernard, who in turn was almost recoiled by the cold of the stare.

"Not asked, no."

Sam leaned forward, Bernard leaned back at first, but then resumed his stance. "Uniform?"

"You will be allowed to draw one from your stores."

"So if that is the carrot . . . what is the stick?"

"You had assets in Trinovantum?"

"Yes . . . I do." Sam glared at the Vernia.

"No . . . you 'had' assests in Trinovantum. Now you do not. If you want those assets returned, you will comply. If you do not comply not only will your assets be seized you will never work in Trinovantum, or any other hospital that knows of the General Board of Health."

Sam simply let the loathing show, Bernard shrank back from it. Sam wanted to say 'You can't do that' but he knew they could. "You bastards."

Sam leaned back and put on a pair of leather gloves. "You will leave the documents, I shall have them signed and dispatched." He picked up the kings shilling and turned it over in his paws. Glad for the gloves, he would not touch the kings shilling, for to do so would be to accept his fate.