16 July 1870, Friday

We are on the train to Dover. Sir Cosmo gave us a short briefing in the carriage on the way home from the engagement party last night. I was not as surprised as I might have been, as Mr Frazer, Inspector MacGregor, Lieutenant Wooster, Dr Wilson, and Mr O’Flaherty were all dispatched out of the city on assignments yesterday, just prior to the engagement dinner.

Mr Frazer and Inspector MacGregor were called out of the City on police business. Lieutenant Wooster, Mr Caine, Dr Wilson, and Mr O’Flaherty were sent off on an assignment for the Navy. Mr Cuthbert and the Marquis were out at their clubs, and missed the dinner, though in truth, I do not know that the Marquis was invited.

The dinner itself came off well. In attendance were: Lord Greyminster, Miss Pinker, The Duke and Duchess Balmoral, the Duke and Duchess Exeter, the Earl of Shaftsbury and Countess Shaftsbury, the Earl Blackwater and his Countess, the Marquis Saltire, Mr Balderstoke, Sir Cosmo, Miss Chigwidgeon, Mr Ramsay, Mrs Cuthbert, Miss Sinclair, and myself.

Lord Greyminster made the first toast and gave Miss Chigwidgeon a traditional gift of 49 silver horseshoes to be sewn into her wedding dress for good luck. They came in a delightful little jewellery box that Miss Pinker insisted that Miss Chigwidgeon take with her. Miss Pinker taking custody of the charms for the seamstress. I got the impression, from the way Miss Pinker deftly showed Miss Chigwidgeon a secret compartment in the mahogany box, that she had a hand in picking out the gift.

Sir Cosmo had given me a necklace of jet before we left the house for the dinner. It was very thoughtful of him. He also gave me a locking box filled with inexpensive trinkets that will make good foci for charms and such. Stuart and David apparently scoured the antique shops looking for items of suitable glitter and shine.

The Duke Balmoral made a very nice toast, as did most of the rest of the guests. I had warned Miss Chigwidgeon to only sip her wine at each toast, knowing as I do, that these things can go on for a good long while. Even so, she was a bit tipsy by the time we loaded into the carriage to return home.

It was then that Sir Cosmo told us that we would be leaving for Belgium on assignment from Our Employer the next morning. Mr Ramsay gave a similar briefing to the occupants of the other carriage. The short version is that we are going, unofficially, to investigate the suspicious death of a member of Great Britain’s diplomatic corps. If we can also find a way to prevent the looming war between Prussia and France at the same time, Our Employer would be most pleased.

After a night spent packing, and supervising Miss Chigwidgeon’s packing, I find myself both excited and somewhat wrung out. We are riding in Sir Cosmo’s personal train cars and so will have privacy until we arrive at Dover to take the boat to Calais on the coast of France from whence we shall board a train to Brussels in Belgium. We will overnight at the Villa Royale Hotel and travel to Antwerp by train tomorrow.

Before we boarded Sir Cosmo’s train, we had our own private customs officer, a member of Our Employer’s staff, review our passports and, for some of the League, issue new passports. It was surprising how organized it all was. I suspect that there were some very tired people in Our Employer’s office by the time our train pulled away from the station.

I am rather vexed at Our Employer. Apparently there are rumours circulating in parts of Society that both Mr Ramsey and Henri are paying court to me. He has decided to use that as the official explanation as to why they are accompanying us on this journey. I will be sending Our Employer a very sharp note when we return home. He has no regard for my feelings or sensibilities, or even my reputation, which is not much I grant, given my dubious status, but to think that I would encourage the attention of two such men during the mourning year for my father is most unseemly.

~Later~

We are on the boat to Calais and have settled Miss Bertilde with a Soothe charm so she should not find the passage so objectionable. Sir Cosmo completed our briefing while we were on the train. This is what we know so far:

The dead man’s name was Richard Arkwright. His official title at the embassy was Deputy Secretary for Commercial affairs. He is the son of Sir Charles Arkwright, and was Our Employer’s agent in Antwerp.

Mr Arkwright died in an horrific train accident on 13 July. Not long after his body was discovered, his assistant thought to check the office at the embassy and found that all of Mr Arkwright’s current reports and code books were missing. Mr Arkwright was monitoring the activities of France and Prussia and had sent back many coded reports to Our Employer’s office. The reports that he was working on the day of his death are all missing

The Belgian police and Mr Arkwright’s assistant have reconstructed the last hours of Mr Arkwright’s life:

Mr Arkwright was at a reception at the French Embassy until eight o’clock in the evening. He took the train back to Antwerp and was seen in Antwerp at ten. At 2306 he was logged in to the English embassy by the night guard. The embassy is an hour away from where he was seen at ten, the train would just be able to get him back in the time allowed but only if he limited his visit to a brief conversation or meeting with a courier. At the embassy Mr Arkwright went directly to his office saying he had some work to finish. At 2345 he was logged out of the embassy by the night guard. In addition, a Colonel Peacock, who is well known to Mr Arkwright, saw him while he was in the embassy. At six o’clock the following morning, an engineer saw someone run out onto the tracks right in front of the train. The body, or what was left of it after the train’s impact, was identified at that of Mr Arkwright.

The last coded message he sent asked for information on a Gaspard du Nord. Mr Ramsay identified the name as that of a 13th Century evil sorcerer who, in his latter years, repented his sins and lived out the rest of his life the South of France. Our Employer knows of no current agent using that name.

Another name that came up was that of Comte d’Erlette. He was accused of leading a guhl cult in Paris and is currently in exile in Belgium, with homes in both Brussels and Antwerp. The Order of St Jerome thinks that Comte d’Erlette is a member of the Teutonic Knights, an heretical order that was suppressed in the 1600's but that King Wilhelm has allowed to be reestablished in Prussia.

In addition to the above information, Sir Cosmo gave us an in-depth briefing regarding the status of France and Prussia’s preparations for war. Contrary to Lord Granville’s statements, there is evidence of both Prussian and French forces gathering on the borders of Belgium. While France and Prussia share a border further to the south, the wedge that Belgium occupies would be much easier for either army to cross. However, France, Prussia and our own England are parties to a treaty guaranteeing the neutrality of Belgium in such conflicts.

Lieutenant Wooster, Mr Caine, Dr Wilson, and Mr O’Flaherty are with the HMS Orion at the port in Antwerp in part to be a visible deterrent to the sides planning to overrun Belgium. Lieutenat Wooster is officially the Assistant to the Naval Attache, Captain Moriarty. It does not help that the Iron Rhine runs from Prussia to Antwerp with only a switch needing to be thrown to transfer a train to the tracks that would take it directly to Paris. Further, a rail line runs from Naples (where Admiral LeCoq is stationed) to Paris.

Admiral LeCoq was relieved of his duties as Grand Marshall and Minister of War before the French officially knew that the Spanish Cortes planned to offer the throne of Spain to the Prussian, Prince Leopold of Hohenzollern-Sigmaringen. However the Emperor Napoleon III was quite specific in confirming that the rest of Le Coq’s titles and powers remained. Our Employer’s suspects that the Admiral is still the head of the French secret service. He does not know if LeCoq’s removal to the Kingdom of the two Scillies is part of an elaborate plan or if LeCoq has truly fallen out of favour with either the Emperor, Empress, or the French Assembly. Our Employer believes that the Emperor may no longer be in control of events as they unfold. Several factions in the French Government, that usually oppose each other on principle, are showing signs of uniting behind the common cause of a war with Prussia.

There are three people (other than our usual associates) who know the real reason we are in Belgium. The Earl of Maynooth the Ambassador to Belgium, Captain Moriarty the Naval Attache, and the Honourable Mr Thomas Adair, son of the Earl (and officially the Earl’s private secretary, but really the assistant to the late Mr Arkwright). All of the rest of the consulate, embassy, and naval staff will be told only our cover story.

Tonight we will stay at the Villa Royale Hotel in Brussels. Tomorrow we will establish ourselves in a villa outside of the port city of Antwerp for the duration of our stay. Sir Cosmo is ‘officially’ here to visit a Mr Van Der Pool who is deeply involved in the Belgian Royal Railway and who Sir Cosmo has tried to hire away to the B & C Great Locomotive Company several times. Various and sundry of our party all have excuses for our visit to Belgium, and, as mentioned above, not all of them are to my taste.

~Dinner~

We arrived by train from Calais to our hotel in Brussels and had a pleasant, if uneventful dinner with Colonel Peacock and his wife in the dining room at the hotel. After dinner a Belgian by the name of Baron de Ritter stopped by to give his condolences to Colonel Peacock on the death of Mr Arkwright. Baron de Ritter is apparently in ‘industry’ of some sort. The Colonel did not really know the details, as the Colonel is the Military Attache to Her Majesty’s Mission to the Kingdom of Belgium and does not have much to do with the ‘Commerce’ side of things.

After dinner Sir Cosmo had been invited to call upon the Ambassador. Miss Sinclair, Mrs Cuthbert, Mr Ramsey and I all went with him hoping to be allowed to inspect Mr Arkwright’s office and discover what we could about his death.

Between Ruth’s keen observation and a history spell, we were able to learn that the man that entered the office at 1106 p.m. that fateful night was not Mr Arkwright but was rather an extremely powerful creature, who we presume to be fey of some sort. He bore a striking resemblance to both Admiral LeCoq and Miss Mitzi.

He stole papers from the locked desk drawers and from both safes. The first safe he opened he did in what I assume to be a traditional safe-cracking method. By the second safe, he was impatient and just reached into the wall, lifted the safe out, took the back off, removed the papers, reassembled the safe, and returned it, slightly out of square, to the wall.

Tonight Miss Chigwidgeon, Mrs Cuthbert, Mr Ramsey, and I will meditate and see if any further information comes to us regarding the disposition of the papers that were stolen from the office.

Tomorrow we leave for Antwerp and the villa which Sir Cosmo has rented for us.

17 July 1870, Saturday

This day began with a nightmare and did not improve. It is very late as I write this, and my hands are still shaking, though hours have passed since our terrifying experience.

Last night, Mrs Cuthbert, Miss Chigwidgeon, Mr Ramsey and I all meditated before going to bed. We hoped that some pieces of the puzzle we are trying to solve would reveal themselves. Mrs Cuthbert mediated on the location of the lost papers and I meditated on their contents. Miss Chigwidgeon decided to ask Kali for clear instructions as she has been irritated by vague dreams and obscure signs from the goddess.

Mrs Cuthbert dreamt that Baron de Ritter, a Gray Man, a Torturer by the name of Tot and the fey, whose name we later learned was Herr Schmidt, were all in a crypt. Mr Arkwright was being tortured by Tot, and books were being removed from his chest. Tot seemed to get a great deal of sick pleasure from his work, Mrs Cuthbert reported. Herr Schmidt appeared later in the dream and there was some conversation back and fourth about the proper uses of power. Then Herr Schmidt picked up the nearly dead Arkwright and flew out a stained glass window. In the shards of the glass Mrs Cuthbert could see various shifting images of war and chaos. Baron de Ritter was not directly affiliated with the other men. It seemed, from Mrs Cuthbert’s description, that he may be working for a different faction, perhaps a spy for Belgium?

Mr Ramsey confessed to a similar dream as Mrs Cuthbert. Miss Chigwidgeon dreamt that she was in India, married to a maharaja. Fong was her sister and they were riding in a palanquin through the countryside. They stopped at a shrine dedicated to Kali and found Salmalin there. He had left the world to become a monk and had taken the name Ravi. Miss Chigwidgeon was told that we never had been able to heal the rift in the world but the time was right and she should sacrifice Mr Chadwick. She awoke just as she was plunging the knife toward his chest. She also mentioned that, in her dream, many years seemed to have passed, and Mrs Cuthbert and I were not available to help with the ritual.

I did not really share much of my dream with anyone, as it seemed very personal and much more like a nightmare than a useful dream. Events proved otherwise so I will document it here.

My nightmare was thus:

I was riding in a two-wheel carriage behind a horse. I was in India. It was the dry season, but was late enough in the evening that it was beginning to cool off. Still, I was grateful for the shade of the carriage top, and my parasol and I was fanning myself. William was driving the carriage. He was wearing one of his dress uniforms. As was typical, a groom, a hindu manservant, was running along beside the horses. This practice always annoyed me. Proper footman back in England, at least, could ride on the back of the vehicle.

"I wonder what text Rev. Wheeler will use for his homily, tonight," I said aloud.

“I don't care if he reads from one of the bloody blasphemous hindoo books," William replied. "Thank God Wheeler's health is recovered. If I have to listen to one more service conducted by that imbecile from the Gospel Society-"

"The Society for the Propagation of the Gospel to Foreign Parts," I corrected.

"A bunch of bickering wet hens is what they are," William said.“Stirring up trouble and giving people ideas. Setting one group of natives against another."

I sighed. "I must admit that Rev. Perkins' style is not to my taste."

"At least we can both agree to that," William admitted.

"Yes," I said quietly.

There is a shout behind them, and a younger officer rides up alongside the carriage on a horse. "Captain Forrester! You must come quickly to the cantonment!"

“Now what has happened?"

"I'm not certain, sir, but General Carshore has called all officers to headquarters, right away."
"As soon as I have seen my wife safely to the church, I will be along."

"That's the other part, sir," the officer said. "There will be no church service. It has been cancelled, by order of the General, sir."

I gasped and met William's eyes. We both had heard the stories. Two years before we came to India, the Mutiny started on a Sunday evening, much like this. The mutineers had hoped to slaughter all the English officers and there wives while they were at church.

William opened his mouth as if to say something, then his eyes focussed elsewhere. "Rodgers! On your way back?"

I looked that way, and saw another officer in a small carriage, without his wife.

"Just got the word myself, Forrester," the other officer answers.

"I'll ride with you, then," William said. "Boy!" he called, as he snapped the whip in the vicinity of the groom. The groom looked up, and I was surprised to see that it was Salmalin. "Yes, sahib?"

"See Mrs. Forrester safely home. And tell Azimullah to bar all the doors and lock the gates.”

"Of course, sahib."

As William climbed down he murmured gruffly, "Probably a lot of nonsense. Nothing to worry yourself over."

I wasn’t sure what to say. "Of course, nothing," I stammered. Then he and the other officers were gone. Salmalin took hold of the horse’s halter and turned it around.

“It would be ever so much easier if you just climbed up here and drove the carriage," I said.

"It is not the place of a servant to sit beside a Lady, memsahib."

At that moment, a cannon fired from somewhere not that far off. The sound was followed by screams. "It is not the place for a man to allow a woman under his care to linger in danger," I retorted.

Salmalin glanced in the direction of the cannon sound. Gunshots could be heard. "Yes, memsahib." He leapt onto the carriage, grabbed up the whip, and sets the horse running. "Hold fast, memsahib," he said, as he cracked the whip and urged the horse to run faster. We passed several carriages and men on horseback moving at rather rapid paces. One carriage seemed to be being driven hellbent for leather.

The Englishman at the reins looked oddly familiar to me. I looked more closely at him and gasped, "Sir Philip!" It did, indeed, appear to be Sir Philip Bond, although a considerably younger and less massive version than I had ever seen. "What is he doing here?"

"They say that he is in the Great Game, memsahib," Salmalin answered.

"Great Game?" I asked.

"An intelligencer, intriguer, or spy," Salmalin explained.

"Oh, I see."

An auburn-haired man galloped by on horseback. "Inspector?" I started to call out. "No, wait, that's not right. He was never in India. I think he's a detective in America now."

"We have arrived, memsahib," Salmalin said, as he stopped the carriage in front of our house. The gate stood open, smoke was rising from behind the wall. "This does not look good," I said.

"Evil is afoot, memsahib," Salmalin agreed. "I must get you to the fortress. You can take shelter there."

I pointed to my house. "We should see if anyone is hurt, first."

"I will come back for them, memsahib," he said.

"Adjomaya and Laksmi may be dying in there," I argued. "Or little Tattvick!" I climbed down from the carriage.

"But the danger-" Salmalin protested.

"I will not flee from danger only to leave people I love behind."

Salmalin leapt off the carriage, executing a somersault in midair to land in front of me. "Very well, memsahib, but please, stay behind me." He led the way in. It was worse than I feared. There were bodies lying in pools of blood.

"I am afraid we are too late," Salmalin whispered, as he picked his way through the garden. I paused at one of the bodies. "Laksmi never hurt anyone. She never even said a cross word. Why would someone do this to her?"

"War is heartless, memsahib," Salmalin answered. "It is like a starved garvial -it swallows everything it can fit down its throat, and that which does not fit, it tears into smaller pieces."

"It can't be war. We arrived after the mutiny. Everything was settled. There were a few times when William's unit went away for a few months to deal with things, but we were never in a war."

"You are speaking in riddles, memsahib," Salmalin said. He pointed toward a back corner of the house and his voice dropped to a barely audible whisper. "Something moves there. Please talk as if I am still standing beside you."

He glided forward, silently, and become one with the shadows. "Perhaps what we need is a bracing game of riddles to take our minds off all of this," I said loudly. "Certainly reason and rationality have fled the country."

Salmalin dragged a person from the shadows. She yelped and began babbling, pleading for her life.

"Who is this girl," I asked, as Salmalin dragged her into the light. "I don't recognize her. What are you doing here?"

The girl looked up, tears running down her face. "Where is the sahib? Where is the sahib?"

"My husband is..." I was about to say 'away,' but a flick of Salmalin's eyes changed my mind. "...expected shortly. Why do you need to see him?"

The girl placed her hands on her swollen belly, which made me realize the girl was at least seven months pregnant. "The soldiers are killing everyone with English blood. They are killing all the officers' bibis. He promised to protect me."

My mouth went dry. Surely this doesn't mean what I think it means. The girl can't be more than fifteen years old.

"He must protect his baby, yes? He won't let them kill me while I carry his child?"

I choked, trying to say something. Before I can, Salmalin grabbed both of us and pulled us into the shadow of the outbuilding. There are loud voices, arguing just outside the gate. "We must get all the pieces in place before the final battle," one of the voices said. A group of soldiers came through the gate. To my surprise, they were dressed, not in Sepoy or English uniforms, but in the grey-blue of the Prussian Royal Army.

There were two officers. One was slightly taller than the others, and is wearing smoked glasses. "Secure the garden," he said in a clipped, emotionless voice.

The other officer, a small, oily man wearing round spectacles, added, "Make sure there are no nasty surprises," he said in a breathy voice. "We haven't a moment to waste."

The first officer removed his smoked glasses to reveal reddish eyebrows that rose to points and ears with a distinctly elvish shape to them.

I was stunned, his resemblance to both LeCoq and Mitzi was so pronounced. The officer's head snapped around to look straight into my eyes. "What have we here?" he asked. Suddenly he was almost upon me. I didn’t even see him move. The only reason he hadn't already grabbed me was because Salmalin threw himself in front of me. "Run, memsahib!" he shouted, and he and the Prussian struggled.

I fled, dragging the girl behind me. We went out the back gate and ran up an alley. I saw a man standing near on the roadside, with his back to me. I suddenly recognized him as Inspector MacGregor and dashed up to him, "Thank heaven! Back there, they're liable to kill him!"

MacGregor turned to me... and he was wearing smoked glasses. "You are mistaken, madam," the Prussian said. Before I could jump back, he had me by the throat, lifting my feet from the ground as if I were a china doll. I kicked and squirmed. I clawed at his eyes and only succeeding in knocking the smoked glasses off. Looking directly into his eyes at close range, I saw that in
one way he was nothing like LeCoq or Mitzi. Though his facial features were virtually identical, his eyes were cold, lifeless-as uncaring as a snake.

"What have you been playing at, Mrs. Forrester?" he asked, in that emotionless voice of his. "You think yourself an adventuress, a witch, and an intelligencer?" He snorted derisively. "You are a deluded woman, Mrs. Forrester."

I managed to gasp out, "Salmalin! Simon! Help me!" The Prussian cocked his head. "Interesting choices, Mrs. Forrester. Have you noticed the pattern? First you fall in love with William, a soldier. Then Salmalin, an assassin. And finally Simon, a man who has sworn to uncover crime but has, at least once, done exactly the opposite."

I was trying to concentrate on one of the magikal symbols I knew. I had to gather power.

"Every man you have fallen for is a killer," he continued. "Why do you suppose that is, Mrs. Forrester?"

At that moment, I awoke, drenched in sweat and nearly in tears, the dream was so real.

Even though I have had a day to reflect on the dream, I still don’t know that I can answer his question. Some men are killers, and some men are murderers. That is the thought that runs through my head, though I find little comfort in it.

Once I calmed down, I realized several things that irritated me about Herr Schmidt and his assumptions (of course I have no idea if he actually managed to invade my dreams last night, but it certainly felt like it at the time).

He assumed that I loved William– that I fell for him in some way. It was not quite that romantic, William was from good family, he was of a good age, with good prospects for advancement. I had been out in Society for over a year and the offers were not coming thick and fast, as they did for other daughters of the gentry. At nineteen, I could not imagine any other path than marriage and motherhood for myself. I hope I was capable of love, and I do feel that I loved William in my own way the years we were together. I never really thought of him as a soldier, he was just William, and we were in India to do his work.

As I wrote in my letter to Salmalin earlier today–in the end, I loved India more than William, and my own honour and independence more than India.

Schmidt also assumed that I thought of myself as an adventuress, witch, or intelligencer. The only one of those that I am near to claiming is Great Aunt Hethalyn’s place as Witch. That is only because the forces we have combatted have required me to pretend confidence in my abilities in order to use them effectively.

I am not an adventuress. I go where Our Employer sends us and do my best to help my fellows in the League of the Golden Clematis bring an end to evil where we find it. I do love to travel, but I cannot say that facing down 1600 year-old sorcerer-priests is something that I want to do more than once, or that I would seek out such a thing. I have been given certain gifts and it is my responsibility to see that they are used to stop the evil forces that are manifestly present in this world.

I am not an intelligencer. I know a little about codes and such but I have all the subtlety of a large brick in a sock, and no talent for secrecy. It must make Our Employer’s life quite challenging to deal with a rampaging group of civilians with a talent for trouble.

The Dream Schmidt did succeed in frighteningly me temporarily, but in the end, he only succeeded in making me very angry.

~Later~

I had to take a break and consult my notes and Mrs Cuthbert’s memories of the events of the rest of the day before trying to set it down in some order in this record.

We assembled for breakfast and shared our dreams. I merely said that I had a nightmare involving the same men as Mrs Cuthbert’s dream and that war and death were prominent in the dream. I could not bring myself to say more.

After breakfast, the Honourable Mr Adair presented himself and asked that we call upon the HMS Orion as soon as convenient. He specifically said my talents were needed.

We loaded up our trunks and piled into the carriages for the journey to the train station. The train took us to Antwerp and Sir Cosmo arranged carriages to take us to the villa he had rented on the outskirts of the city. Once all the trunks were in the right rooms we made our way to the HMS Orion.

On board the Orion we met Captain Moriarty and found that Lieutenant Wooster, Mr Caine and Dr Wilson were waiting for us. Wooster, Wilson, and Mr Cuthbert went off to talk about the new rocket battery that had been installed on the ship after its successful test last week. Apparently Mr Cuthbert had been consulting on the project as well.

Mr Caine briefed the rest of us on their adventures of yesterday. It seems that Wilson, Wooster, and Caine met up with Frazer and MacGregor at a hotel yesterday. Frazer and MacGregor were tracking a man by the name of Quentin Deveril who had been asking around after Gaspard du Nord. Apparently du Nord had shown up at a Franciscan Monastery in Wilachia. The next day the monastery was burglarized, a rare book called the Assyrian Book of the Dead was stolen and an acolyte was killed. Mr Deveril has been on the trail of this man for the past month, two weeks of which were spent in a hospital recovering from an assault that had been intended to kill him. The six men talked for a bit. Then Mr Deveril returned to his rooms in the hotel.

A few minutes later our cadre heard the sound of a gunshot, followed by a loud crash, as of someone going out a window. They ran outside only to find Mr Deveril falling, and Schmidt floating above the ground. Mr Deveril managed, by use of a bullwhip, to stop himself from plummeting the entire five stories to the ground. There was a giant hole in the side of the building, not in a window as they originally thought.

They quickly found a wagon and climbed up to brace Mr O’Flaherty so he could lift Mr Deveril down from his predicament. Herr Schmidt appeared again and spooked the horses. The wagon lurched away, leaving Mr O’Flaherty hanging from Mr Deveril’s boots. The red-haired demon was not finished, he unhooked the whip from its place around a cornice and the two men fell the rest of the way to the pavement. During all of this our men were trying to shoot Herr Schmidt or stop him in some way.

As a final blow, Herr Schmidt threw three brass daggers at Mr Deveril and only quick action by Mr Caine saved the day. Once assured that Schmidt was gone for the moment, they removed themselves to the warship, hoping that several tons of cold iron would insulate them from his deadly antics. Both Mr O’Flaherty and Mr Deveril were wounded.

Upon hearing that I asked Mrs Cuthbert if she would be willing to see to their wounds and soon the two men were moving with much greater ease.

It was at this point that Frazer and Inspector MacGregor returned from their tour of the docks. We learned from Frazer that he has encountered Herr Schmidt before and has found him to be a very dangerous opponent. Mr Frazer could offer no concrete suggestions for stopping Schmidt other than staying in areas with large concentrations of iron. Once our two groups had briefed each other, we laid out a plan for the day’s investigation.

Several of us in Sir Cosmo’s party had already planned to visit the location where the body of Mr Arkwright was discovered. After some discussion we decided to stop at the consulate on our way send a telegram to both LeCoq and Miss Mitzi. To LeCoq we tried to alert him simply that Herr Schmidt was active in Belgium. To Miss Mitzi we sent more details and a plea for any help she could give us in combatting him.

We quickly removed ourselves to the scene of the crime and Mr Ramsey, Mrs Cuthbert and I did a History spell. We found that Herr Schmidt flew Mr Arkwright, still alive, to this site and dropped him in front of the moving train. Mr Arkwright had no chance of getting away. It was terrible to behold.

At this point we split up. Mr Ramsey wanted to go to the St Jerome Chapterhouse and find out what they knew about Comte d’Erlette. Mr Ramsey had a hunch that the Comte and Gaspard du Nord were one-and-the-same. Sir Cosmo thought some attempt should be made to maintain our cover so he, Miss Chigwidgeon, Miss Sinclair, Edward, Lieutenant Wooster, Mr Caine, Miss Bertilde, Dr Wilson, Mr O’Flaherty and Mr Deveril would visit his friend at the train manufacturing plant. The Marquis indicated that he had some errands to run and we all agreed to meet back at the plant for lunch.

Mrs Cuthbert, Mr Cuthbert, Mr Frazer, Mr Salmalin, Inspector MacGregor and myself went to the morgue to inspect the body of Mr Arkwright and see if his spirit could tell us anything. Once there Mrs Cuthbert and I tried to summon Mr Arkwright’s spirit, only to see a horrible demon face appear in our circle, and have all our candles snuffed out. We realized then that Arkwright’s spirit was being held by a necromancer.

Mrs Cuthbert and I decided to try to free him. I put on my Veil charm and we began summoning the power to dispel the magik that was holding the spirit prisoner. When we cast the spell we heard a thudding noise on the magikal plane and realized that we had not succeeded in our first attempt.

The sorcerer holding Mr Arkwright’s spirit would know what we had tried. We decided that we had better try again, now, before he could assemble even more effective defences. This time we cast a ward around our work area before beginning the spell. We chanted until we had raised twice as much power as before. I cast the spell. There was an explosion.

Salmalin threw himself in front of us. When we could see again, his clothes and parts of him were on fire. All three of us had been injured in the backlash, but Salmalin had taken the brunt of it, as Inspector MacGreogor and Mr Frazer had acted simultaneously to pull Mrs Cuthbert and I back from the expolsion. Inspector MacGregor rushed in to help and he and Mr Cuthbert put the fire out while we quickly healed Salmalin of the worst of it. We then cast the Lay to Rest spell for Mr Arkwright. In the moment of the explosion, I saw a vision of a voodoo doll exploding in its box. I had strong sense that the spell had worked, freeing Arkwright’s spirit. The "Lay to Rest" spell will, we hope, assure that he cannot be brought back against his will for further torture and ill-use.

Once the spell was cast, we ran for the carriage. I was sure that the sorcerer we had interfered with would be looking for us. We decided to head for the train factory. Not only were all of our friends and their weapons there, but large amounts of cold iron, as well.

We piled into the carriage and the driver got the horses moving. Herr Schmidt descended upon us like a fiend from the deepest reaches of hell. He broke the poor coachman’s neck in one swipe. Mr Salmalin, Mr Cuthbert, and Inspector MacGregor swung up on top of the carriage to do battle while Mrs Cuthbert and I continued chanting. We were trying to raise enough power to bind Herr Schmidt’s spirit, as that was the only spell I could think of that might affect a being that could turn to mist at will.

Mr Frazer pulled open my overskirt and took hold of the sword I carry in the sheath in the over skirt. I managed to give him the ring I had made with the Warriors Blessing before he took my sword into battle. I was terrified.

Suddenly, Schmidt dove through the carriage and grabbed me. Both of us passed though the back of the carriage as if we were smoke. I still had the power that Mrs Cuthbert and I had raised, little enough as that was, so I hit him as hard as I could with my fist and willed the power to burn his face. I saw Salmalin leaping off the coach to grapple with Schmidt as I fell into darkness.

The next thing I knew, Mr Cuthbert was helping me sit up and tending to my wounds and Mrs Cuthbert was chanting over Mr Salmalin. Mr Ramsey had arrived with a large group of men who I later found out were Watchers. They had helped drive Schmidt off. They had brought all the iron weapons they could find on short notice.

Mrs Cuthbert said that she saw Saint Cuthbert himself descend from Heaven and smite Schmidt with his holy cross. Apparently Mr Cuthbert and Mr Ramsey both managed to shoot him at least twice and Frazer had cut him off at the knees with my sword. Schmidt had fled the field. Unfortunately that means that he is still out there, aligned against us. I hope we hear something from Miss Mitzi that will help us.

As soon as Mr Salmalin and I could walk we were bundled into carriages. We were about to make haste to the Chapterhouse when Sir Cosmo, Miss Chigwidgeon, and all the rest of our friends and companions drove up in two carriages. We told them where we were going, and all together at last, we sped through the city.

An unnatural storm moved across the sky and we could see a Lion and an Eagle battling in the midst of the thunder and lightning. Upon arriving at the chapterhouse, Mr Ramsey, Mrs Cuthbert and I joined the circle to add our power to that of the Watchers in the mystical fight against the Teutonic Knights (for that is who we inconvenienced this day, Mrs Cuthbert and I).

The rest of our party decided that this was an ideal time to launch a physical attack against the Teutonic Knights, distracted as they should be by the mystical attack. All of them went forth and assaulted the building. Apparently Dr Wilson and Henri were very nearly singed by one of Wilson’s own rockets when they dove into the burning building. Mr O’Flaherty has been complaining all afternoon that no reward is worth following Dr Wilson into danger.

The Knights were apparently storing a large quantity of munitions in the basement of their building, as, not too long into the fight, several people recognized the tell-tale sound of bullets exploding. The League ran for it, and everyone got clear before the entire building caught fire. Sir Cosmo managed to capture one of the men fleeing the building and he looks a lot more like a Prussian soldier than a mystic.

Miss Sinclair reported that Mr Frazer had caught her up while she was trying to ensure that everyone made it safely away. As he was carrying her to safety, she saw a golden coach that seemed to be made of fire, ascend to the sky from the Knight’s building. She was comforted by the fact that Mr O’Flaherty saw it as well so she is not suddenly seeing visions. I could not quite tell if she was pleased or vexed at Mr Frazer’s direct action to save her person– a little of both, perhaps.

Once the battle was over, we reunited briefly at the Chapterhouse. We then made our way, with prisoner in tow, to the English Consulate. We spent the next many hours waiting in an anteroom while each of us was debriefed in turn by Captain Moriarty. I had Edward scrounge a pen and paper for me and wrote a letter to Mr Salmalin thanking him for saving my life and telling him some things that were long past due. I slipped it to him while we were waiting. I do not know if he has read it yet, or what his response will be, if any. I can see there are going to be some very aggravating things about having confessed my love for such an inscrutable man.

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