Hmm, stranglehold certainly sounds like a hitman still, though I suppose it could be yesterday's red tape stopping you getting back through the borders into Canada? Or I suppose it could also be the undercover chef still... if so, we should script a tv sitcom out of it :)
The stranglehold Samual drove through central London with his eyes firmly on the road and his ears listening avidly to Lord Derby's tale of the Hull conspiracy. At the King's orders the traffic in the West End and the City was limited to essential services and business only, but Samual's Token of Authority allowed them access into the streets. He drove slowly as pedestrians knew they had right of way everywhere, and wasn't at all unhappy to be able to listen to more details of the case as they came along Piccadilly and finally turned into Haymarket towards Pall Mall. Lord Derby noticed the turn. "The King is not at home?" He was referring the Palace of St. James, a sprawling collection of beautiful buildings on the side of the river. "The King is spending today at his club," said Samual. He decelerated a little more, turning left. "Lord Ashby...," "Tell me, Samual, please. I hate being left hanging." "Lord Ashby is displeased, milord. He feels that it is a security risk when the Palace is so close." The car came to a halt, and Lord Derby smiled. "Here we are!"
The King was in a private dining room, and Lord Derby was escorted in and seated at the round table, set for six, where the King was toying with a glass of white wine. "Derby," he said without waiting for the door to close. "Why does it take so long to get you here, even when I send a car for you?" "I was visiting Lord Vileburn," said Ernest, still standing. "I'm afraid I was unaware that you had summoned me until the car was announced." The King looked up; his face was lined and there were dark shadows beneath his eyes. His lips pressed together for a moment, turning blue-ish white, then he waved his free hand. "Sit. Sit, Ernest. I'm not annoyed with you, I'm annoyed with other things and you just happen to be here. Unfair of me." "Harold Ashby?" said Ernest pulling a chair out from the table and carefully sitting down so that he was facing the King and not concealing any pocket or his hands. The King's eyebrows raised, a reflexive motion, and for a second Ernest tensed as well. Then the King laughed. "I should stop being surprised. I tell myself every time that I should just accept that you can clearly read minds and regularly travel into the future so that you know what will happen in the next ten minutes, and somehow you still manage to take me unawares. Yes, Ernest, yes. Harold Ashby is on my mind, but he is not the reason I have asked -- not summoned -- you here now. Though I am sure that you have probably already deduced what job I have for you, permit me the luxury of explaining myself." Ernest smiled and stayed silent. "You are aware, as I know, of the political situation in Eastern Europe and the tensions that are tightening because of fall of the Hapsburgs. A little further south and we have Romania, which has a stranglehold on the sea entrance to the Danube and hence trade in that part of the world. The so-called Cluj school is a loose alliance of sorcerers and priests. They are a small group but there are suggestions that this might be intentional and enforced. And, and I know your views of this, they study demonology. What I want from you, Ernest, is to locate Dignity and bring him back here." "Last seen hunting for Carcosa," said Ernest quietly. "Good grief, Derby! You really do travel ten minutes into the future, don't you?"
Greg - before I get to this, wanted to mention that I've been listening to a whole lot of Tom Waits' Hell Broke Luce lately. It was in the first episode of Netflix's Punisher series and I frickin' love it. Thought you might appreciate that.
Anyway. I'm pretty sure we should make a script out of that regardless. For the record, though, my best bet at the inspiration for this would be me watching a lot of Punisher episodes lately. The Marvel Netflix series I've enjoyed the most since the first season of Daredevil, though I still have a few episodes left. Four, I think.
Ah, the meeting with the King at last. And it seems to be going as expected, much to Derby's chagrin...
2 comments:
Hmm, stranglehold certainly sounds like a hitman still, though I suppose it could be yesterday's red tape stopping you getting back through the borders into Canada? Or I suppose it could also be the undercover chef still... if so, we should script a tv sitcom out of it :)
The stranglehold
Samual drove through central London with his eyes firmly on the road and his ears listening avidly to Lord Derby's tale of the Hull conspiracy. At the King's orders the traffic in the West End and the City was limited to essential services and business only, but Samual's Token of Authority allowed them access into the streets. He drove slowly as pedestrians knew they had right of way everywhere, and wasn't at all unhappy to be able to listen to more details of the case as they came along Piccadilly and finally turned into Haymarket towards Pall Mall. Lord Derby noticed the turn.
"The King is not at home?" He was referring the Palace of St. James, a sprawling collection of beautiful buildings on the side of the river.
"The King is spending today at his club," said Samual. He decelerated a little more, turning left. "Lord Ashby...,"
"Tell me, Samual, please. I hate being left hanging."
"Lord Ashby is displeased, milord. He feels that it is a security risk when the Palace is so close."
The car came to a halt, and Lord Derby smiled. "Here we are!"
The King was in a private dining room, and Lord Derby was escorted in and seated at the round table, set for six, where the King was toying with a glass of white wine.
"Derby," he said without waiting for the door to close. "Why does it take so long to get you here, even when I send a car for you?"
"I was visiting Lord Vileburn," said Ernest, still standing. "I'm afraid I was unaware that you had summoned me until the car was announced."
The King looked up; his face was lined and there were dark shadows beneath his eyes. His lips pressed together for a moment, turning blue-ish white, then he waved his free hand.
"Sit. Sit, Ernest. I'm not annoyed with you, I'm annoyed with other things and you just happen to be here. Unfair of me."
"Harold Ashby?" said Ernest pulling a chair out from the table and carefully sitting down so that he was facing the King and not concealing any pocket or his hands. The King's eyebrows raised, a reflexive motion, and for a second Ernest tensed as well. Then the King laughed.
"I should stop being surprised. I tell myself every time that I should just accept that you can clearly read minds and regularly travel into the future so that you know what will happen in the next ten minutes, and somehow you still manage to take me unawares. Yes, Ernest, yes. Harold Ashby is on my mind, but he is not the reason I have asked -- not summoned -- you here now. Though I am sure that you have probably already deduced what job I have for you, permit me the luxury of explaining myself."
Ernest smiled and stayed silent.
"You are aware, as I know, of the political situation in Eastern Europe and the tensions that are tightening because of fall of the Hapsburgs. A little further south and we have Romania, which has a stranglehold on the sea entrance to the Danube and hence trade in that part of the world. The so-called Cluj school is a loose alliance of sorcerers and priests. They are a small group but there are suggestions that this might be intentional and enforced. And, and I know your views of this, they study demonology. What I want from you, Ernest, is to locate Dignity and bring him back here."
"Last seen hunting for Carcosa," said Ernest quietly.
"Good grief, Derby! You really do travel ten minutes into the future, don't you?"
Greg - before I get to this, wanted to mention that I've been listening to a whole lot of Tom Waits' Hell Broke Luce lately. It was in the first episode of Netflix's Punisher series and I frickin' love it. Thought you might appreciate that.
Anyway. I'm pretty sure we should make a script out of that regardless. For the record, though, my best bet at the inspiration for this would be me watching a lot of Punisher episodes lately. The Marvel Netflix series I've enjoyed the most since the first season of Daredevil, though I still have a few episodes left. Four, I think.
Ah, the meeting with the King at last. And it seems to be going as expected, much to Derby's chagrin...
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