**From the Journal of Lawrence Birch, Representative of the Federated States of Alleghany**

Colongo twinkled in the sun as squawking gulls circled overhead, water slapped noisily at the harbour wall
and the gang-board banged like a drum as we disembarked from the _Prudence_, weary and disorientated
by nearly two weeks at sea but weak with happiness at finally reaching land. I stopped in my tracks as sailors
from a neighbouring frigate rolled barrels across my path with a sound like distant thunder, and my gaze
went from the glittering emerald ocean, where the masts of Ereatian warships, yachts and frigates
rocked gently from side to side, to the dock, the wide stone steps that led from the piers and jetties to the
harbour thronging with redcoats, traders and sailors, then up past the harbour to Colongo City itself,
the church spires and distinctive red brick buildings seemingly resisting any attempts at arrangement, as
though flung by some godly hand on to the side of the hill. And, everywhere, Ereatian flags that fluttered
gently in the breeze, just to remind visitors—in case they had any doubts—that the region's oppressors were here.

The passage from Axiom's (now Alleghian territory) southern coast to Colongo had been eventful, to say the least. I had made friends and discovered enemies, surviving an attempt on my life—by Ereatian vigilantes, no doubt—who wanted to take
revenge for the killing of their kind's officers and to show their Colongoese who's boss.
To the other passengers and crew of the ship I was a mystery. Some thought I was a scholar. I told
my new acquaintance, an Alleghian journalist, that I “solved problems,” and that I was travelling to Colongo
to see what life was like there; what had been retained from the Ereatian empire and what had been discarded;
what changes Ereatian rule had wrought. Which were fibs, of course. But not outright lies. For though I came on specific political business, I was curious, too, to see this land I had heard so much about, which was apparently so vast, its people
infused with a pioneering, indomitable spirit.

There were those who said that spirit might one day be used against us, the Allgheians, and that our subjects, if they
harnessed that determination, would be a formidable foe. And there were others who said Colongo was
simply too big to be governed by the Ereatians; that it was a tinderbox, ready to go off; that its people would grow
tired of the taxes imposed upon them so that a country thousands of miles away could fight wars with
other countries thousands of miles away; and that when it did go off both they and us might not have the resources to
protect our interests. All of this I hoped to be able to judge for myself.
But only as an adjunct to my main mission, though, which . . . well, I think it’s fair to say that, for me,
the mission has changed en route. I’d stepped on the _Prudence_ holding a particular set of beliefs and
stepped off having had them first challenged, then shaken and, finally, changed, and all because of the
book.

The book that Vice President Reginald Stuart had given me: I’d spent much of my time aboard the ship poring over it; I
must have read it no fewer than two dozen times, and still I’m not sure I have made sense of it.
One thing I do know, though. Whereas before, I’d thought of the supposed power of the Colongoese with doubt, as
would a sceptic, an unbeliever, and considered Reginald’s obsession with them to be at best an irritation,
at worst a preoccupation that threatened to derail the very workings of Alleghany, I no longer did. I
believed.

The book seemed to have been written—or should I say written, illustrated, decorated, scrawled—
by a man, or maybe several of them: several lunatics who had filled page after page with what, at first, I
took to be wild and outlandish claims, fit only for scoffing at then ignoring.
Yet, somehow, the more I read, the more I came to see the truth. Over the years, Reginald had told
me (I used to say “bored me with”) his theories concerning the power of the Colongoese and their former kingdom. He’d
always asserted that we were born of their struggles and thus obliged to serve them; that our ancestors had
fought to secure their own freedom in a long and bloody war.

What I discovered during my passage was that all of this originated from the book, which as I read it,
was having what I can only describe as a profound effect upon me. Suddenly I knew why Reginald had
become so obsessed with these people. I’d sneered at him, remember? But, reading the book, I felt no desire
to sneer at all, just a sense of wonderment, a feeling of lightness inside me that at times made me feel
almost giddy with an excitement and a sense of what I can describe as “insignificance,” of realizing my
own place in the world. It was as though I had peered through a keyhole expecting to see another room on
the other side but seen a whole new world instead.

And what had become of that kingdom that had eventually branched off to become the Federated Staes? What had they left behind, and how could it benefit us? That I didn’t know. It was a mystery that had confounded Alleghany for centuries, a mystery I’d
been asked to solve, a mystery that had brought me here, to Colongo City.

“Master Birch! Master Birch!”

I was being hailed by a young gentleman who appeared from within the throng. Going over to him, I
said, carefully, “Yes? May I help you?”
He held out his hand to be shaken. “Louie Johnson, sir. A pleasure to make your acquaintance. I’ve
been asked to introduce you to the city. Help you settle in.”
I had been told about Johnson. He was not an official of the Alleghian government but was keen to join us and, according
to Reginald, would want to ingratiate himself with me in the hope of securing my sponsorship. Seeing him
reminded me: I was the Alleghain representative of Colongo now.
Charles had long, dark hair, thick sideburns, a prominent, hawk-like nose and purple skin typical of Usonians, and even though I liked
him straight away, I noticed that, while he smiled when he spoke to me, he reserved a look of disdain for
everybody else on the harbour.

He indicated for me to leave my bags, and we began to thread our way through the crowds of the
long pier, past dazed-looking passengers and crew still getting their bearings on dry land; through
stevedores, traders and Ereatian soldiers, excited children and dogs scuttling underfoot.
I tipped my hat to a pair of a giggling women then said to him, “Do you like it here, Johnson?”

“There’s a certain charm to Colongo City, I suppose,” he called back over his shoulder. “To all of the
colonies, really. Granted, their cities have none of Thearis’ (the Alleghian capital) sophistication or splendour, but the people are earnest and hardworking. They’ve a certain pioneer spirit that I find compelling.”

I looked around. “It’s quite something, really—watching a place that’s finally found its feet.”

“Feet awash in the blood of others, I’m afraid.”

“Ah, that’s a story old as time itself, and one that’s not likely to change. We’re cruel and desperate
creatures, set in our conquering ways. The whole of Kervan history's is but a series of subjugations.”

“I pray one day we rise above it,” replied Louie earnestly.

“While you pray, I’ll act. We’ll see who finds success first, hmm?”

“It was an expression,” he said, with a wounded edge to his voice.

“Aye. And a dangerous one. Words have power. Wield them wisely.”
We lapsed into silence.

“Your commission is with Edward Braddock, is it not?” I said, as we passed a cart laden with the kind of fruit you'd see in Corin Island.

“Aye, but I figured I might . . . well . . . I thought . . .”

I stepped nimbly to the side to avoid a small girl in pigtails. “Out with it,” I said.

“Forgive me, sir. I had . . . I had hoped that I might study under you. If I am to serve Alleghany, I can
imagine no better mentor than yourself.”

I felt a small surge of satisfaction. “Kind of you to say, but I think you overestimate me.”

“Impossible, sir.”

Not far away, a red-faced newsboy wearing a cap yelled out news of a recent sighting of Dereham soldiers on the Naarden Peninsula:
“Forces from a warship belonging to the Dereham Navy have landed in Naarden,” he bawled. “In response, the government of Naarden plans to pledge more troops to counter the foreign menace!”

The foreign menace, I thought. The Dereham, in other words. This soon-to-be conflict many were calling the Northern War was set to escalate, if the rumours were to be believed. There was not an Alleghian alive who didn’t detest the militaristic Dereham, but I knew one Alleghian in
particular who hated them with a vein-bulging passion, and that was Edward Williams. That’s where he
would be, leaving me to go about my own business—or so I hoped. I waved away the newsboy when he tried to extort sixpence from me for the broadsheet. I had no
desire to read about any more conflicts. Meanwhile, as we reached our cab and Charles told me that we were to ride for the renowned Red Horse Tavern, I wondered what the other men would be like.

“Have you been told why it is I’ve come to Colongo?” I asked.

“No. Master Stuart said I should know only as much as you saw fit to share. He sent me a list of
names and bade me ensure you could find them.”

“And have you had any luck with that?”

“Aye. Edward Little waits for us at the Red Horse.”

“How well do you know him?”

“Not well. But he saw the Alleghian mark and did not hesitate to come.”

“Prove yourself loyal to our cause and you may yet know our plans as well,” I said.

He beamed. “I should like nothing more, sir.”