Avec Miles
Les rues de Londres ne sont pas aussi ordonnées qu'on le voudrait. Aucun n'est nommé d'une manière utile, et vous êtes sûr que vous avez vu plus de trois chansons lire "Traitor's Lane", chacune pour une rue différente dans une partie complètement différente de la ville. Selon les directions, le voyage de Wolfstack à la Mandrake, apparemment situé dans un quartier appelé "Veilgarden", n'est qu'une demi-heure de marche ce que les surfacers connaissent comme la Thames mais les Londoniens appellent universellement la "Stolen River". Les directions ne mentionnaient pas, cependant, le théâtre massif qui serait passé par. Il avait l'air d'un Colisée bombé, tout en bois sombre et riche broderie d'or, illuminé comme un feu de joie dans le contraste étoilé du ciel noir permanent. Les gens qui s'en sont emparés et se sont rassemblés autour d'elle semblaient très différents du citoyen moyen de la ville déchue, les vêtements de suie marqués ou déchirés remplacés par des robes colorées et des costumes noirs, qui avaient l'air de s'éloigner d'une telle distance.
Tandis que vous autour d'un coin et la foule de la richesse passe de votre vision, vous voyez un homme qui a l'air appétissant, grand et mince avec une moustache wiry, vêtu d'un costume un peu moins riche que ceux autour de la salle massive. Il s'assied à vous rapidement, en fonction de votre rythme en marchant et debout à une distance, il appellerait sans doute discret, mais serait probablement comme 'présomptueux' ou 'd---d--d close'. Sa voix est sordide et profonde, une voix adaptée à la scène ou à la parole publique, bien qu'affolée et subtile, d'un ton décontracté malgré le trickle d'excitation que vous détectez.
"Bienvenue dans la Neath, surfaceur. J'espère que vous appréciez Londres; même sans l'Empire, elle est le joyau du monde, voyez-vous. Je me sentirais mal à l'aise en tant que Londonienne si je ne t'offrais pas sa plus sublime et merveilleuse nouvelle marchandise, la joie des artistes et des détectives de la ville: Chéri! Délicieux et beau, et pas cher à trois cuillères pour un écho! Une affaire pour un nouveau venu à cette merveilleuse ville, vous voyez."
Le Precocious Peddler attend avec impatience votre réponse, toute son attention ardemment investi dans vos prochains mots.
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Avec Spencer
Après avoir été poliment escorté du bateau par les zailors, désireux d'être fait avec leurs affaires, vous vous trouvez à Wolfstack proprement dit. À pied de la jetée, vous vous retrouvez à un mur de dépôts et de magasins, les rues bord d'eau regorgeant de trafic. La qualité de la foule s'est améliorée, bien qu'elle ne soit pas exagérée, et bien que des zailiers durs puissent encore être repérés facilement, la foule est plus 'col bleu ornemental' que 'gorge de coupe dangereuse'. Pour de brefs sorts, il est facile d'oublier qu'on est sous terre, les foules de gens encore juste tous les jours hommes et femmes essayant de vivre leur vie au maximum. Le tapis est tiré de cette illusion quand les particularités de Neathy se font connaître; un homme avec un calmar pour un visage et une peau verte putride ou une autre vue absurde complètement étranger à quiconque, sauf ceux qui habitent dans l'obscurité de cette caverne sous le monde.
Après avoir marché quelques pâtés de maisons, vous entendez une voix derrière vous. C'est une petite voix, de bas en bas près de votre taille, pas à deux pieds de vous. C'est la voix d'une petite fille, entachée d'un accent à la fois complètement inconnu et absolument révélateur de la pauvreté indigente. Si vous tournez, vous pouvez voir une petite fille, la peau juste et les cheveux justes marbrés par la suie et la saleté, les vêtements sales décolorés mal appariés, chacun disant de la couleur éclatante différente qu'il était. Elle est courte et mince, yeux perlés et une cicatrice sur l'oreille gauche.
"Ear, Guv, a eu un message pour vous, vraiment important qu'il a dit." Elle tient un morceau de papier légèrement froissé, souillé par ses empreintes de main, le regardant avec un regard intense, comme si elle essayait d'engager la chose pour perfectionner la mémoire en peu de temps.
Name: Spencer Cole
Age: 55
Physical Description: Exquisitely dressed in grey pin striped 3 piece suit, a perfectly tailored Egyptian cotton shirt and a Jaxon English bowler perched on his head, he is the epitome of style. Turning to fat in older age is a dominant gene in Spencer's family and combat this, he keeps a strict regime of running to giving him a taut sleek form which he moves with smooth purpose. Boots made of soft, velvet like leather clad his feet, a long chain leading to an elegant pocket watch mark and the mole skin briefcase mark him as a man of distinction.
Its often said that people dress to hide their flaws or accentuate their more desirable attributes and Spencer was no exception to this rule. He was by no means a hansom man, dour in expression, weak chin and a nose that was almost, but not entirely the wrong size for his face. Still, he was not without some positive physical attributes, he had been involved with several high profile women in his life, one of whom was a well know actress, none of them had ever lasted more then a year or more. They could never offer him what he really wanted.
Personality: Petty, ruthless and uncompromising, are some of the nicer adjectives used to describe Spencer. Most who have worked with him describe him as narcissistic, manipulative and abhorrent. Spencer's better personality traits were never encouraged to come out. A ruthless attitude were cultivated as a child and a cool intellect was nurtured. This upbringing has left Spencer some what distant and disinterested in others, that is unless he considers you of value. Accustomed to being deferred to he makes a difficult travelling companion and a formidably enemy.
Given his affluent family circumstances Spencer has never been require to do manual labour and Tabour, his equerry has always dealt with the more physical side of Spencer's business, not that there is a vast amount of that kind of work with the lifestyle he leads.
Ethics/Beliefs: Morality was never much of an issue for Spencer, in as much as he had never really had it instilled in him. Ruthlessness was an attribute that was nurtured, developed and grown , this ruthlessness which, today, Spencer wields like a weapon. At a very early age all of the Spencer children were encouraged to cheat, to be manipulative, to win at all costs. Winning, of course to most people, is a subjective matter, to Spencer it was his life force. Anything could be 'Won', people, property, favours, money, import rights, conversations. Wining is what drives him and the only unfair game that you ever play in life, is the game you lose....
Occupation/Talents: 30 years with the British Diplomatic Service has left Spencer jaded, frustrated and angry. He had been, what many would call lucky in his postings. Lucky in the first instance that his father purchased his commission with the Diplomatic Service and in the second instance that all his postings had given him unrestricted access to business leaders, politicians and affluent people who could ensure the ships from British Tobacco Ltd were not subjected to any formal inspections. Of course the fact that the Spencer family were the majority share holders in British Tobacco Ltd and subsidiaries were purely coincidental. Spencer always wanted to be more hands on with his family’s businesses but destroyed all chance of that after the accident.
His real talents lay with people, he could manipulate them and bend them to his will, subtly of course, none of this crass violence that people seem to revile in these days. Far from disliking people who resisted him, he respected them for it, he even liked some of them. Not that it would stop him trying to use them to his advantage in one way or another.
Heart's Desire: A child. A male heir to carry on his work and his genes to the next generation. There really isn't much more to it, he does not need anything material, he has no need of a wife or friends, nothing more than a son.
History: Spencer is the eldest of 3 brothers, and there fore, as is right, the next in line to take up a position on the board of directors for the family’s business, except that to be a board member you first must have provided a male heir to the family, which for Spencer was an impossibility.
Growing up on the family estate as the eldest brother should have been relatively easy for Spencer, he had a full 16 months on his twin brothers and he exploited this age gap for many years. The twins grew fast and being twins, did everything together. It was a cause for concern with the family heads when Spencer's mother produced twins, the family had experienced problems in the past with twins, they had found it difficult to sever that unseen bond twins have. The Family heads decided on a different course of action with Twain and Evans, their tutors encouraged this bond and strengthened it over the years.
On the Twins 12th birthday the day was to be celebrated with a shoot. The preparations had taken weeks and the twins had each been presented with a brace of identical smooth bore shot guns. Shooting was a part of life at the family’s estate and by this age each of the children were proficient in handling guns.
Nobody knew how Twain managed to get separated from the group, and neither Spencer or Twain could remember exact details of the incident. Even today, when he thinks back on the weeks that followed a dull pain builds between his legs. When the doctor had made it clear that nothing could be done to rebuild the parts that were destroyed, Spencer was moved from the family estate into the town house. He was kept separate from the rest of the children and purchased a Commission in the Diplomatic Service.