The 7th of Victorica

by Beau Schemery

  Rather than surrender to those feelings, Sev reached up and peeled the false mustache from his lip. “Burn this, will ye?” He dropped the hairy prosthetic into the butler’s hand.

  “As you wish, sir,” the butler said with a sneer.

  “What was that all about?” Silas asked as he and Sev walked toward Wrathsbury’s study and the butler made his way to the kitchens.

  “Ye’re so worried about the infamous Seven, and Midnight strolls as big as ye please right out the front door in broad daylight.” Sev fixed Silas with a serious stare. “Seems silly t’wear a false mustache.” He pulled on Silas’s false beard.

  “I suppose I see your point,” Silas answered, the voice modulator around his neck altering his voice to sound deeper, more metallic. He swiped Sev’s hand away and knocked quietly on the study door. A soft voice bid them enter.

  SEV HAD visited Stafford House on two previous occasions and both times he was just as awestruck as he was today. Even in Wrathsbury’s study, the decadence amazed Sev, and he had to admit to himself, despite his fondness for the man, Wrathsbury’s quality of living disgusted him to an extent. The dark wood of the bookshelves, the copper and brass fittings of the ladders and clockworks sparkled in the dim light, they were so highly polished. Sev was certain Wrathsbury hadn’t done the polishing himself, and despite everything he’d done to help Sev and his friends, he felt a little resentment and contempt for Wrathsbury’s societal entitlement. Sev wondered, just for a moment, if Silas should trust him.

  But it was only a moment, and then Wrathsbury greeted them warmly with a friendly, honest smile. One look into the prime minister’s ice-blue eyes eased Sev’s nerves. He shook off the feeling of paranoia and accepted the offered hand. “Good t’see ye, Wrathsbury,” Sev said.

  “You as well, Sev,” he answered and turned to Silas. “Mr. Kettlebent,” Wrathsbury greeted him with a smirk.

  “Your—” Silas began, removing his hat.

  “Dammit, Silas. How many times?”

  “Sorry, Prime Minister.” Silas smiled.

  Wrathsbury sighed. “I suppose that’s a step in the right direction,” he said. He looked, brows furrowing, at Sev. “What were you thinking a moment ago?”

  Sev couldn’t mask his surprise. “What?” he said, unable to think of anything better.

  “You glanced around the room,” Wrathsbury explained. “And then you gave me a very nasty look, indeed. What brought that on?”

  Silas folded his slightly elongated arms. “Yes, Sev. What brought that on?”

  Feeling very much on the spot, Sev only looked from one to the other. “I—uh.”

  “Sev, Seven.” Wrathsbury’s tone was calming. “Please. We’ve fought side by side against lies and corruption. I assure you, you won’t offend me.”

  Sev considered Wrathsbury’s words and then slowly stated, “I noticed all the shiny bits in yer study, and I wondered who does all that work.” He wasn’t surprised at Silas’s expression. Shock. He was surprised by Wrathsbury’s expression.

  He simply smiled. “Don’t look so surprised, Silas,” Wrathsbury joked. “This is why the Seventh of London led us to victory over an aristocratic oppressor. And why I’ve asked him here today. His contempt, his suspicion of the upper classes. His utter conviction that all men should be equal.” Wrathsbury nodded, apparently pleased. “To answer your question: I’ve told them on numerous occasions that they don’t have to work so bloody hard.” He shrugged. “They don’t listen. They keep right on polishing and buffing and who knows what all. If they’d be better off, I’d dismiss them all. But I don’t think anyone would pay them what I’m paying them, and they certainly wouldn’t have the freedom that I constantly offer but they don’t take advantage of.” His expression grew suddenly dower. “Not like Jeffr—Carrington. He was a hard worker to be sure but never one to hold his tongue.” Wrathsbury turned and gazed out his window.

  Sev glanced at Silas. He looked as worried as he could beneath his goggles and beard. Neither of them was comfortable at the moment, and Sev could tell Silas didn’t want to interrupt Wrathsbury’s melancholy. They were all still profoundly affected by the losses they’d experienced to free their kingdom. Wrathsbury sniffed suddenly, breaking the silence. He turned, wiping tears from his eyes. “Terribly sorry, fellows. Afraid it still catches up with me from time to time. It’s no way for a prime minister to behave.”

  “No,” Sev agreed. “But it’s exactly the way a normal person should behave. Ye’ll find no judgment here.”

  “Thank you, Sev.” Wrathsbury placed a hand on Sev’s shoulder. “Are we on level ground once more?”

  Sev nodded and Silas agreed. Sev silently chastised himself for doubting Wrathsbury so much after everything. “Sorry,” he mumbled. He was man enough to admit when he was wrong.

  “Sev. There’s no need for apologies.” Wrathsbury sat down behind his desk and indicated for Sev and Silas to join him. “Honestly, your pragmatism is one of the things I admire most about you.” He leaned back in his chair. “So relax. We’re all still friends here. And equals. If not in society’s eyes, at least in mine.” Wrathsbury spoke with his gaze locked on Sev’s.

  Silas cleared his throat. “I’m feeling a tad like a third wheel here. Was I summoned just to bring Sev?”

  Wrathsbury laughed. “No, Silas. Please accept my apology. I just get to speak to you more than Sev, and obviously there were a few matters between us that needed to be addressed. Rest assured, Silas, you are just as integral to our future as Seven.”

  “And what is that future?” Sev asked.

  “For that,” Wrathsbury said, raising a finger. “We must look to the past.”

  Almost on cue, the new butler swooped into the room. “Your Grace, we have laid out a simple lunch. Might I show you and your guests to the lawn?”

  Wrathsbury looked at Sev and Silas questioningly. Sev shrugged. Silas nodded. “Thank you, Grimden. Just lay out the meal. We won’t need you and the girls to wait on us.”

  Grimden barely concealed a sneer. “Very well, Your Grace. I shall relay the message.” Before the butler spun and exited, Sev could have sworn he’d seen the man grimace. Wrathsbury hadn’t seemed to notice, and Sev didn’t press the issue. Maybe some people actually liked being servants, though Sev couldn’t comprehend such a thing.

  “Shall we?” Wrathsbury rose from his chair. Sev and Silas followed the Prime Minister as he exited the study. Silas abandoned his beard and voice modifier.

  4

  THE LAWN had been decorated like a fine banquet in one of the mansion’s impressive rooms. A carpet had been laid on the grass with a table filled with ham sandwiches, shrimp and salmon pâté, as well as all manner of sweets, tea, wine, and other spirits. It was the exact kind of decadence Sev found utterly distasteful. It was no surprise, then, that he felt guilty when his mouth watered at the sight.

  The three men served themselves buffet style. They then took their places in three overstuffed, high-backed chairs that had been placed in a semicircle on a separate carpet. Each chair had a side table where the companions could place their drinks and sundries. It was all very posh and not at all what Sev would be comfortable with, but the easy conversation with Wrathsbury and Silas made it ultimately enjoyable.

  The servants were relentless, constantly trying to pour this or fetch that. Wrathsbury consistently turned them away, assuring them that the three could take care of themselves for the time being and encouraging the staff to read a book or just have a lie down. It seemed to Sev that some people just weren’t happy being free, like they needed someone else to tell them what to do. As much as the privileged upset him, people who willingly surrendered their freedom disgusted him.

  “What do you think, Seven?” Wrathsbury’s voice broke into Sev’s ruminations.

  “Beg pardon,” Sev said. “What was the question?”

  “Dessert. Do you want any?”

  “No thank ye,” Sev answered. “I couldn’t eat another bite.”

/>   “I’m with Sev.” Silas patted his stomach. “I feel like a Christmas goose.”

  “Very well. Shall we return to the study to discuss the business at hand?” Wrathsbury asked as he rose from the chair. Sev and Silas nodded in unison and followed their host back into the mansion. Sev spared a glance back at the buffet and wasn’t surprised to see a small army of servants descend upon the scene like a flock of fastidious vultures, clearing away the remains of their lunch. He shook his head slowly as he turned away from the scene.

  WHEN THE trio reentered the study, tea, coffee, and cordials were set out on a silver serving tray. Sev and Silas resumed their previous positions while Grimden served their drinks. Wrathsbury walked to his desk and sorted through a stack of papers as Sev and Silas waited patiently. Silas took tea. Wrathsbury and Seven opted for a single malt scotch. Sev sipped the liquid, savoring the smoky, peaty burn as Wrathsbury joined them, flipping through pages of parchment. He placed the papers on the table, lining them up, sipped his scotch, and sighed roughly. “That’s nice,” he observed, and Sev couldn’t disagree. It was one of the finest malts he’d experienced.

  “Are you going to bring Sev into the fold?” Silas asked.

  Wrathsbury nodded. “Sev,” he began, “has Silas updated you on our dealings?”

  Sev shook his head, sipped his scotch, and shot Silas a scathing glance.

  “Hm. That surprises me.” Wrathsbury echoed Sev’s expression.

  Silas visibly shrank into himself, obviously slightly ashamed. “Sorry, Sev. William told me it was confidential.”

  “Your loyalty is commendable,” Wrathsbury told him.

  “Thank you?” Silas responded. Sev wondered if he had intended it to be a question. “Can we just move on?” Silas asked, uncomfortably.

  “Of course.” Wrathsbury sat across from them. “How much do you know about the colonies, Sev?”

  He shifted in his seat. “Not much,” he admitted. “I know Fairgate managed t’talk Her Majesty int’retakin’ them with the Steamcoats.” He paused, studying Wrathsbury’s and Silas’s expressions. “But beyond that? Not a bit. I’d considered takin’ a trip there but haven’t found the time. There are Indians, savages attacking the western settlements. There are outlaws and lawmen. I’ve read a few chapbooks about ’em.”

  Wrathsbury nodded. “That’s the consensus. But it’s certainly not the whole story.”

  “No?” Sev asked.

  “No,” Silas agreed. “The entire system of government in the colonies is terribly corrupt.”

  “Isn’t all government corrupt?” Sev suddenly realized what he’d just said. “No offense,” he added, looking at Wrathsbury.

  “None taken.” Wrathsbury sipped his scotch with a smile. “And for the most part, you’re correct. Sadly. But the state of the colonies is extra troubling.”

  “Fairgate’s people largely ignored the problem because the offending parties were filtering money to him. He used his mystical influence over the queen to dismiss the questionable behavior of the colonists,” Silas explained.

  “Questionable behavior?” Sev asked.

  “Slavery.” Wrathsbury fixed Sev with a serious gaze.

  “Slavery?” Sev had heard the rumors. He wondered if it was anything like he and the other children had experienced in the factories.

  “It’s despicable.” Wrathsbury drained his scotch and stood to pour another. “Our government has tolerated it for too long, and I don’t know if we can fight it now.”

  “How so?” Sev asked.

  “Victorica is polarized philosophically and financially,” Silas stated. “It’s ironic in a way.” He sipped his tea.

  “The North and the South are splitting like our East and West at this time some years ago,” Wrathsbury added. “The North has become extremely industrialized like Blackside.”

  Silas nodded. “And the South is affluent and decadent.”

  “And they’ve purchased most, if not all, of the major factories and financial institutions of the North. They have basically wrested control of the entire industrial system and, in extension, the governing bodies of the colonies.”

  “States,” Sev said without thinking.

  “Hmm?” Wrathsbury hummed.

  “Don’t they call them states?” Sev asked.

  “Oh. Oh yes. I suppose they do.” Wrathsbury frowned. “At any rate,” he continued, regaining his composure, “the Southern aristocracy, as it were, basically controls the entire country. The Northerners don’t agree with their Southern brothers’ philosophy on slavery, and their attempts at offering safe harbor for freemen has resulted in most of those slaves taking jobs in Southern-owned factories in the north.”

  “They escape from slavery to slavery,” Sev said, realizing the futility of the slaves’ situation. “Damn.”

  “Indeed.” Wrathsbury sipped his scotch. “I have created a Shadow Ministry, something of a secret police force for just such endeavors, and at the moment, Silas is my sole agent.”

  “The Ministry of Shadow?” Sev asked.

  Wrathsbury shrugged. “MoS. That’s what we’ve been calling it. But a police force must be more than one man.”

  “What does this have t’do with me?” Sev asked, fearing the duke’s answer.

  “I want you to join the agency,” Wrathsbury stated.

  “I work for Midnight,” Sev answered.

  “This isn’t an exclusive position,” Wrathsbury explained. “And your status in Midnight’s fold may serve the purposes of the MoS.”

  “I don’t know if I like that,” Sev snarled. “I’m not goin’ t’be a double agent.”

  “No. No.” Wrathsbury waved his hands in dismissal. “It’s nothing like that. You just may have contacts with information that would prove valuable to our interests.” Wrathsbury smiled. “I would never ask you to betray our Midnight.”

  “Oh.” Sev raised an eyebrow. “Well, I suppose that’s all right, then.”

  Silas had been silent through this exchange, and his expression unnerved Sev. He could tell Wrathsbury was wondering what Silas was thinking as well. “What do you think, Mr. Kettlebent?” Wrathsbury asked.

  “I’m not sure, to be honest,” Silas said with a scratch to his chin. “Sev would make a fantastic agent, but I worry about his ties to the underworld.”

  “Undertown, not Underworld,” Sev responded snarkily.

  “Sev,” Silas began.

  Sev held up a hand to stop him. “Just playin’ devil’s advocate. I’m not really a joiner, William. That’s not t’say I’m not willin’ t’help out.”

  Wrathsbury winked at Sev. “I knew you wouldn’t let the Queen and Crown down.”

  “And I knew he’d never join MoS,” Silas added.

  “Who do we stop?” Sev asked. “Who needs t’be eliminated, removed, or what have you?”

  “What?” Wrathsbury asked, flabbergasted.

  “Who’s our target?” Sev asked. The last time they had Fairgate. Surely there was someone to stop this time as well.

  “We don’t have a target,” Wrathsbury stated.

  “Not a single target,” Silas added.

  “Wait. There’s no ‘Fairgate’ to take out?” Sev asked.

  “No.” Silas stood suddenly.

  “There’s nearly an entire government that must be dealt with,” Wrathsbury answered.

  “How are we supposed t’do that?” Sev asked.

  “You’ll have to make friends,” Wrathsbury told him. “You’ll have to find those who are loyal to the North and infiltrate the South. You’ll have to determine who can be trusted.”

  “We can do that.” Silas nodded.

  “Can we?” Sev asked. “I’m not so sure.”

  “You’ll have whatever resources you’ll need at your disposal,” Wrathsbury assured him.

  “Forgive me, Your Grace,” Sev responded, “but this doesn’t seem like something we can throw money at and make it go away.”

  “Touché.” Wrathsbury chuckled. “I try t
erribly hard to put myself in the positions of others, but I can’t help but revert to my aristocratic ways.” He paused and poured himself more scotch. “That’s why I appreciate other opinions, Seven.”

  “Well, my opinion is: this is hopeless.”

  “I appreciate that, but I cannot believe it,” Wrathsbury answered.

  “I agree,” Silas added.

  Sev rubbed his face and raked his fingers through his hair. “I think ye’re both out o’yer bloody skulls.” He paused, taking a deep breath. “But I can’t argue with yer conviction.”

  He considered Silas’s and Wrathsbury’s expectant expressions. “I’m in,” he finally agreed. “God help us all, this shite needs t’stop.”

  “Ha-ha! I knew we could depend on you, Sev!” Wrathsbury clapped him on the shoulder.

  Sev winced. “What’s our cover?”

  Wrathsbury apprehensively sucked air in through his teeth. “That’s—um.”

  “Difficult,” Silas finished.

  “Why?” Sev asked.

  “We’re not quite certain what the best cover will be yet,” Silas explained. “I may pose as Lord Kettlebent, and you’ll be my loyal manservant, Steven.”

  Sev grimaced. Of course, he thought. “Oh heavens, my lord and master,” Sev taunted, affecting a proper British accent.

  “It will be believable,” Silas explained, a whine barely distinguishable in his voice.

  Sev held up a hand. “Ye don’t have t’defend it. I agreed. I’ll play along.”

  “Fantastic!” Wrathsbury grinned, obviously pleased. “I knew you fellows were the men for the job.” From there Wrathsbury laid out the details of the journey to Victorica. All their documentation would be taken care of as well as passage booked on a state-of-the-art steamship that would carry them across the ocean in record time. “A contingent of my most trusted soldiers will join you. They are highly trained and strategically experienced. They’ll be there to offer assistance should circumstances prove too difficult for the pair of you.”