Alcander couldn't help but smile as Elle spoke. Mostly because he quite enjoyed her presence and felt her playing devil's advocate was so like her, though it had a charm to him that he couldn't help but beam at. "Elle, this skull might be ten thousand years old, you're right. But you know as well as I do, this fossil has no signs its been in rock. Which means that cannot possibly be from sisxty five million years ago. If this fossil is five hundred thousand years old," he said. "Then it changes everything we thought we knew about the extinction of the dinosaurs. It gives credence to his story."

Though Alcander spoke thusly, he still seemed quite overwhelmed. He blinked and gazed inwardly, placing a hand on his thick head of hair and falling into his seat roughly. "By God, what am I saying?" He breathed, as if he couldn't believe of how sure he felt not moments before. He was right. No matter the exact dating, if the skull was real, and with his professional opinion he was inclined to believe it was, it would fundamentally change the way humanity viewed not only religion, but archaeology and anthropology.

"I see you will be accompanying my young ward Alcander here then, eh?" The Baron asked the crowd, after quickly glancing at Lucian and Elle at having spoken up, his gaze fell on Lysandra, as if he knew she had reservations from the start. That she merely represented interests. He glanced Lakshmi's way though, giving her a wink, for he had a feeling she was cautious, but too curious not to accept his proposal. The pay was quite considered as they all knew, as well.

The tension in the room drained when their newcomer entered, floundering at the door. The Baron turned her way imperiously, though posh as he was, he couldn't help but give a concerned look at Miss Montgomery. "My dear, if Bertram had not just announced you, I would have thought you had stumbled into the wrong manor. We were just discussing the very unraveling of our understanding of human history. Would you like some tea?"

Al and El had their heads together over the skull, both unconsciously rubbing fingers over it as if to clean it, even though it was rendered in pristine condition by whoever the Baron had hired to work on it for him. They were both tracing lines over its features, humming and mumbling to themselves or to each other when the door opened and a late newcomer to the party was announced. Just when El was preparing to counter Al's arguments with another batch of Devil's advocate arguments of her own. Both their gazes lifted and shifted towards the floundering woman at the door. Elle's eyes shone with mirth and mischief. Oh, this day just keeps getting better and better.

El chuckled. "Flo, when are you going to tell O'Connell to stuff it and stop being his errant girl?" She sauntered over to the frazzled woman and threw an arm over her shoulder, probably flustering her further. "We both know you're three times better than him!" She relented when she felt the younger woman squirm a bit underneath her arm. As El detached from Flo she beckoned her forward. "Come on. The Baron's got something that'll blow your mind. O'Connell's going to be piss green with envy that he didn't get off his pompous ass to answer his personal summons on his own." Elle finished as she was walking Florence to where the skull and the tablet lay.

---

As the discussion died down and all arrangements for the expedition were hammered out the group began to disband and all took off to their respective residences to prepare.

Elle climbed into the car that was to take her home and quickly entered into her usual meditative state rehashing the new information. Devising pros and cons, arguments and contra-arguments. Considering consequences and ramifications. Something felt off though. She had this feeling of unease that wouldn't allow her to fully immerse herself in the thought process. She was more and more conscious of the feeling and trying to root the reason out when her driver announced they were arriving at Brocklesby manor.

She thanked the driver and exiting the car tried to shake the creepy feeling since she had exciting news to bring to her dad. As she was unlocking the front door, readying herself to yell for the Earl a hand slammed down on her mouth as she was opening it and a bulky body engulfed her own in a strong hold. Lips brushed her right ear.

"If you scream I'll never stop rubbing it in." Junior whispered in El's ear. "Act as if nothing special has happened and follow me." He finished releasing El.

Elle made a 'What the fuck!' expression at Preston Jr., but followed him. "Oh, man, dad, that meeting with the Baron was a complete and utter bust. You'll be so disappointed when I tell you about the whole thing." She yelled to no one, keeping up with the act as Junior had instructed her. At the same time she followed him as he led her down into the direction of the wine cellar. Once there, she was greeted by her father, the Earl and Preston Senior.

"Dad!" El exclaimed. "You know you're not supposed to come down here." She rushed to the old man. "It's too damp and cold. It's not good for you!" The Countess hugged the fragile body of her father.

"Oh, hush, child." He retorted, patting Elle on the back. "Now let Junior here explain the theatrics. So that we can get to the important stuff and then I can get out of this dank cellar."

El turned to Junior. "Yeah, Pres, explain!"

"The house is being observed." The young man deadpanned.

Elle balked at this, unable to say anything for a long second. And then she remembered the creepy feeling that she'd had throughout the drive back from the Baron's estate. She gritted her teeth. "Do we know who?" She simply asked. Her face now a cool mask of irritation and anger.

Preston Junior shook his head 'no'. "However considering the timing. I would venture a guess that it has something to do with your meeting with Baron Carnock. Although I also noticed a tail on me while I was driving back home. So maybe tell us what happened there and we can figure out who is keeping tabs on us."

Hence this cloak and dagger conclave in the basement. Elle thought. The stone walls of the cellar and the depth had proven the location impervious to known means of eavesdropping.

"Yes." The Earl moved forward. "Tell me what has that old kook gotten my little girl mixed in?!" El's dad asked, fuming with fatherly indignation.

"Relax, Daddy, I'm fine." El reassured, but her eyes had ignited with excited fire. If someone is surveilling me because of my meeting with the Baron, It has got to mean that he is on to something. Or at least that someone thinks he is. "If Preston is right and my meeting with the Baron is the reason for this surveillance. Then you'll want to hear this."

Elle spent the better part of an hour relating the meeting with the Baron to her father and both Prestons. By that time a phone call on behalf of the Baron had related that indeed the manor was not safe and she should not go back there, but rather meet up with everyone else in South Hampton at noon the next day to embark on the Steam Ship Demeter bound for Porto.

"If I may, sir..." Preston Senior intoned with his slow, patient way of speaking. "If milady is being surveilled, I suggest using the old tunnels to smuggle her outside the borders of the estate. I doubt whoever those ruffians are, they know of the manor's old underground escape system."

"Dad, you're a genius!" Junior exclaimed.

Senior feigned ignorance and parental indignation at the praise, but his slight blush was obvious. He remained stoically quiet however.

The foursome quickly made plans for Elle's departure and not two hours later the Countess and Preston Junior set off. The young man would accompany his mistress throughout the tunnel system under the Brocklesby estate and even a ways further to make sure they'd made a clean escape from whoever was watching the manor. Than he would double back and leave Brocklesby with one of the female hands in the back seat to try and make it seem as if he was driving Elle to wherever.

---

Elle was no stranger to making her own travel arrangements and wasn't all that pretentious as to the means of transportation. She managed to arrive in South Hampton a little bit before noon. After a short, inconspicuous stroll among the docked ships, trying her best to look like a tourist while also trying to determine if their new meeting place was compromised, Elle found the Demeter.

"What a lovely name you have." Elle complimented the steamboat. "I wonder if your crew will let me get aboard to look around you." El made a show as she leisurely climbed the boarding plank. "Permission to come aboard?" She asked giggling like an airhead as soon as she was met by a deckhand.

"Tea, yes. That would be grand!" spoke the flustered Scholar as she took a deep breath to pull herself together. It appeared that it was really only half of the room who had noticed her entrance - the rest were too busy pouring over whatever was on the table - the reason that they were here. She opened the door and pulled her skirt out, took her glasses off and rubbed away the steam with the very corner of her skirt which had been kinked in the doorway. She took her time, she knew if she just took her time she wouldn't suffer a second faux pas.

The gentle sound of the Frenchman's voice soothed her, he seemed to not have snickered at her, and instead his attempt to catch her up on what she had missed also helped to ground her in the present, and to help her focus; "the Congo?" she began as she made her way to the table. She had just gotten it together when she noticed in her foggy peripherals someone sauntering towards her - and before she knew it she had been embraced by her.

She recognised immediately that is was Ellen, she could tell by the perfume - and the fact she had not regarded in the slightest, someone elses personal space. That said, it was nice to have someone here that she knew, at least on a surface level anyway. "Ahhh, Elle... You compliment me so again, it's nice to see you. It's been quite a while..." She followed Elle's lead to the table, and clapped her eyes on the skull in the centre of it. "Is that...?" she began, and looked around at the excited nods that followed. "But that's impossible..." and again the party around the table offered more nods of excitement. "But the Garden of Eden is but a legend, is this really real? I mean... The Congo really? I suppose if it would be anywhere that would be it - given the geographical implications of it I suppose it would be there but really the Garden of Eden? Well I never...."

She continued on, until it all became a bit of a monologue to herself than her asking anyone else any questions. She spoke so quickly to herself, drawing a finger over the tablet, glancing at the skull again as she punctuated her diatribe. "Fascinating really, isn't it?" she finished as she came back up for air - having studied both the skull and the tablet. A cup and saucer of tea had been placed beside her at some point. She took a sip and felt it warm her up inside.

It felt that she hadn't been there for too long, when soon the meeting was wrapped up. She felt a little confused over where she would be staying, but she remembered a rather quaint Inn being placed just a ways down the road. She liked places like that, they always had such character - and already she was salivating at the thought of a fresh breakfast in the morning.



Morning came after a night of dreaming of adventure, the Congo, of lions and elephants and treasures and tombs! Florence woke in a good mood to the sound of the telephone in her room ringing. This must be the kitchen letting her know that her breakfast was ready - as she took the phone off the hook and sat up in the bed, she heard a different voice on the line. An accent, Australian? He sounded gruff, confident, and commanding. She recognised the voice from last night.

They wouldn't be going to the Manor this morning, they'd be heading straight to the Docks. Something was up.

Florence wasted no time in getting ready, packing her things, and leaving.



Her heart fluttered away in her chest as they made their way in the cab to South Hampton. Another long drive - and they would be leaving at Noon. And she hadn't even gotten to have that delicious breakfast. Every time the cab rolled over any bumps in the road, Florence found herself jumping back in fright. Obviously something was happening, and she just didn't know quite what it was. It wasn't an exciting kind of anticipation - like childhood Christmas Eve, no, this was some kind of dread.

Eventually her cab dropped her off, suitcase and all, in a snowy South Hampton. She was very early, far earlier than she thought she might be. She supposed it was because she may have rushed her cab driver - her anxiety and incessant talk might have been a factor in him hitting the peddle with gusto. She had barely gotten out of the cab and he had booked it back off again, leaving the Scholar alone in the snow and quiet. She bit her lower lip as she looked out over the docks, clapping eyes on the S.S. Demeter. She was still early, and she was hungry. It would be unsafe of her to embark without at least tea and toast in her stomach. There had to be somewhere here that would help her...

After a few moments of exploring, she found her way into a small Cafe, relatively empty save for a couple in the corner with their two babies, and a man whose face she couldn't make out because he was hiding it behind a broadsheet, reading away, a cup of coffee in front of the newspaper. He was wearing some rather tremendous footwear that was well suited for the snow. They looked almost like military boots. She smiled at them, befoe looking at her own slightly worn brogues. Not the best shoes for this weather. Boots would have been much better.

She sat with her breakfast and gazed out at the docks again, she could still see the ship - but nobody else was here yet. The serene quiet of the morning was pleasant, and she took her time people watching out of the windows as the docks gradually got busier. It seemed like she had taken her last sip and the space of those seconds, suddenly the scene outside was bustling - filled with people at last. It was drawing close to 10:45 - she would be allowed on the ship now. It was time to head that way. As she left the cafe, she felt a presence behind her. It sent a shiver up her spine, and she felt the space around her grow dark as the domineering shadow took over. "Do not move little girl..." came the sound of a distinctly German accent behind her, and then she could feel the sharp tip of a knife poke her just enough against the spine to let her know that he was armed. He pulled the knife back, but the threat was present still. "Look, I don't have any money, I'm sorry... please just let me on my way just don't hurt me..." she whispered back, pleading. He sniggered at her. "I don't not vant your money Miss. You vill come with me right now or you vill come in pieces." His voice was a growl in her ear, and she was trapped with him, she nodded and he began to lead her in a direction away from the docks. She could hear his boots trekking through the slush on the footpath, her own shoes were not fairing as well.

As they came to a small decline, Florence began to slip down it. Like some kind of incredibly unrefined ice skater, she couldn't stop herself and she felt the gap between herself and the German grow. Someone else grabbed her, another man - this time a sailor - she could see his face and he was smiling at her. She clutched onto his arm for her life; "Woah Miss! Be careful there awright, or you'll av a nasty fall on these stones." She thanked him and went to look once more for the German. She couldn't see him anywhere - he'd gone. He had been up to something but couldn't risk drawing attention to himself.

She looked down at her shoes and smiled, the adrenaline finally kicking in until she began shaking completely. Her stupid choice of footwear had saved her, at least for now. It was time to make a rush for the boat. She couldn't risk that happening again - she might not be so lucky again.

---

---

The snow drifted lazily through the night air, a brisk and biting cold compared to the the quite comfortable and warm interiors of the Baron’s manor. The meeting had adjourned and standing next to one another were Lucian and Lakshmi, both seeming very out of place in the wintery climate considering the places they both had called home. While most of the others had departed, having had the foresight to arrange transportation, the two friends had elected to split cab fare and catch up on the adventures they had been up in recent years since they’d last been in acquaintance. If nothing else, the good Baron Carnock had a way of bringing people together.

Lucian readjusted his scarf, feeling like he was have preferred to endure another bout of malaria than wait another ten minutes for the headlights of the taxi to arrive in the snow. “Quite the interesting assortment of guests tonight. I must admit I was surprised to see that you were in attendance. How long has it been?” he asked Lakshmi.

Interesting was an understatement, though she politely kept that comment to herself. Or rather, she was distracted by trying to remember the last time she had seen Lucian. She never did have the best recollection of events, only remembering highlights and never details. “I want to say...four years?” She took a random guess, although that didn’t seem right. “No, it’s three, you passed by Newham and we ran into one another then,” She paused, realizing her memory was complete crap, though she couldn’t quite hide her smile. “Actually, you nearly toppled me over. Always in a rush, aren’t you?”

That prompted a chuckle from Lucian’s lips as he slipped a cigarette between them, his hand searching his great coat pocket for a lighter. “Perhaps I am always fishing for a conversation starter with you. That or crowds and I do not agree, so in my haste, I might have taken inspiration from a rhinoceros. What makes for a better tale?” he asked, offering a cigarette to Lakshmi. “We always seem to find the strangest locations around the globe to come across one another. Perhaps we should begin sending telegrams and leave it less to fate, no? It is always a genuine pleasure to make up for lost time.”

Politely shaking her head and declining his cigarette, Lakshmi exhaled into her hands in an attempt to warm herself. He had a point; they really did have an odd time always running into one another, whether it was in England, France, or any other country. Even reuniting now had to be more than happenstance, or at least, that was how she felt. Looking up at Lucian, she raised an eyebrow at him. “It’s not as fun if we start arranging to meet,” She couldn’t help but tease him lightly, although she did agree. “But yes, we should try to close the gaps. Maybe shorten it to once a year? I have to admit, this time I don’t have as much to report. I falsely believed once I graduated I’d have more adventures, but...well, tonight is the most exciting I’ve had for quite some time.”

“My dear, you’re going to have to start paying me a visit in the Congo. Outside of this particular job, I mean. Rich French aristocracy pays handsomely to look at animals and suffer from heat exhaustion, I’d much rather be in the company of someone who could actually appreciate it.” Lucian replied, letting the embers light from the Zippo. Inhaling lightly and letting his breath mingle with the fluttering snow, he continued. “But yes, I think once a year could be quite agreeable for both of us. Both from a social and business standpoint, I’m always looking for new clients. I could always take on an apprentice?” he teased, offering her a wink.

“If you’re in need of an arm, leg, whatever it may be, I’d be more than happy to help,” Lakshmi’s boredom with her life was apparent, and she made no effort to hide it. At the very least, she knew there was never a dull moment with Lucian around. “There’s only so many mothers I can tolerate coming in hysteria because their husbands didn’t notice their new haircuts.” She huffed, slightly pouting. “It’s the same reason I even considered this...expedition. I thought it better to go searching for something that may not even exist than staying home reading the paper and ignoring the hundreth telegraph coming from my mother.”

“You’ve gotten your hair cut? When?” He asked, feigning shock before resuming his stoic vigil of staring towards the darkness for a sign of reprieve from the damned cold. “Life is too short and interesting to stay cooped up in a life of domestic tedium, I feel. Even if this expedition turns up being a much of merde de chien, I’m still going to be doing what I do best with my life regardless. Perhaps afterwards, you would like to stay for a while longer? Weeks out in the bush, watching sunsets with elephants and fending off all manner of beasts with the muzzle of a fusil? I’ll tell you, Lakshmi, life is seldom boring where I’ve learned to call home.”

The dark haired woman nodded in agreement, shifting her weight from one heel to another. She should take a page out of his book and do the same. Then again, her life had a way of throwing some unexpected twists, so who knew where it was going? Shivering slightly, she tried to clear out the more negative thoughts and ended up letting out a small sigh, watching her breath. “You’d think I’d learn...but if that’s an open invitation, I’m taking it,” She told him with a surprising amount of certainty. “I won’t lie, most of my motivation for accepting is getting away from this sort of weather, I can’t stand snow or cold or--any of it!” She joked, letting out a laugh.

As if answering her wishes, a pair of headlights began to round the bend. It appeared as if their taxi had finally arrived. “Now, when have I been a man who extends empty platitudes? Let us see what you think of the proposal after a few drinks, because I am going to need them to feel my toes again and try to recall if the Baron was being truthful that fucking dinosaurs still exist.”

~~~

Kingsguard Tavern & Inn, Southampton, several hours later…

“So the idiot pulls out this big fuck-off sized knife from his belt, oui? He says to me, ‘You watch your damned tongue to me, Frog’. It was as if God himself had a sense of humour about this man and his over-compensation choice of sidearm, because the fool steps towards me, slips on the glass I’d knocked over earlier, and down he goes!” To emphasize the point, Lucian ran his arm down and back upwards, mimicking the man’s fall. Suddenly, the Frenchman smashed his fist into the table. “Bang! He smashes his face off of the bar, comes up and his face,” he circled his hand over his mouth several times, “It’s a mess, blood everywhere. Both his front teeth are missing, and he starts bawling like a child. I’m not joking, this was a week after we met in Newham. Apparently, the gentleman American was quite envious of our agreement.” he let out a rancorous laugh at the memory, definitely feeling quite a bit warmed up after a for whiskeys and ales.

By now, a few glasses had piled up between Lucian and Lakshmi as they raced the liquor to recount stories and make up for time that had been lost. Considering the time of night, there were still numerous patrons about, and perhaps the most patient tavernkeep Lucian had seen. Then again, compared to much of the English lads that had called the place home, he was rather quaint and restrained in comparison. In fact, the only thing off about the night were the table of three men in the corner with dark eyes and faces that might as well have been carved from stone. It was actually what had prompted this particular drinking story.

Lakshmi watched Lucian, greatly enjoying his stories as her middle finger continuously traced the rim of her glass. The woman was definitely having a good time, letting herself go a bit with her own drinks. Lucian’s story had her grinning as he painted the picture of the scene for her, and she let out a chuckle as he finished. She picked up her glass, downing the rest of the whiskey and placed it down, raising her eyes to his again. “As they say, the bigger they are…” She laughed, shaking her head slightly. “You always seem to be getting yourself into trouble! I’m starting to think you like it.”

He smiled, in spite of himself. “Could very well be. Trouble seems to find me, but I’ve learned to enjoy the chaos life sends my way. It allows for fine evenings such as this. A toast, then? To good fortune and good company?”

Raising her glass, she agreed. “And dinosaurs,” She joked, though as she drank and placed her cup back on the table, she tilted her head slightly and lowered her voice. “I have to ask, and forgive me if this is my own paranoia, but...do you get the feeling we’ve attracted…attention?”

“Those gentlemen in the corner? They’ve been staring daggers at us since they’ve arrived. I assumed it was because we are aggressively very non-British.” He replied, setting his own glass down after emptying it. He felt the same unease towards the men, and even as he said it, he felt that there was something more than typical hooligan rage being directed towards them. He’d seen similar looks on the Kaisar’s men during the Great War, one with cold hearts and murderous intent.

“It might be prudent for us to switch establishments for the evening, would you agree?” he asked, glancing around for escapes, and if need be, anything that could be constituted as a weapon. The cigarette tray and several glasses seemed to be the battle order of the day. Adequate, if disappointing.

Lucian’s confirmation soured her mood a little, although she was glad she wasn’t completely losing it. Clearing her throat, she would nod in agreement. “Ah, well, all good things must come to an end,” She stated as she stood up and put her coat on.

If the men were trying to be subtle at this point, they were failing miserably on that count. One went to head off the exit while the other two approached straight towards the pair. Lucian quickly glanced over the figures, and from open coats the distinctive grip of Luger pistols were stuffed in the waistbands. While it wasn’t entirely out of the realm of possibility they were war trophies, nothing was going to be left to chance. Lucian stood leisurely, as if greeting old friends, and downed what was left of the last glass on the table.

“May we help you?” he asked, offering a stern and unblinking stare to the men. “I don’t take kindly to men who accost myself nor my companions while armed. Leave us be, and I might forget this evening.”

The first man, with a surprisingly convincing English accent, replied, “Come quietly. No one needs to get hurt, but we will do what we must.”

“Ah. C’est la vie.” Lucian replied quietly, regarding the glass in his hand for a few moments before in a explosive burst, he brought it hard into the man’s face. With his other hand, an ash trash was plucked off of the table and shoved hard into the second man’s face, the crunching of a broken nose being blotted out with a puff of ash. With the ashtray still in hand, the Frenchman continued to use it as a striking instrument, alternating between men so they’d have a harder time getting their guns out.

The bartender yelled something out that Lucian couldn’t quite make out, but it sounded not unlike, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!”

“It’s being handled, sir!” Lakshmi told him as she spotted the third man coming in to help his allies. “Hinsa se sambhaala,” She murmured under her breath as she slid her coat off, watching the hulk of a man approach them. Drawing her arm back, she decided to let him try to make the first strike, though rather than attack, he decided to try to grab her. Of course, the poor man had no idea what he was in for as she took his arm mid-grab, quickly twisting him around and throwing him onto the other pair. “Did we ever talk about my practice of platha, darling?” She asked Lucian.

“Can’t recall, I’m afraid. Care to demonstrate?” he replied, grabbing the arm of one of the men who was reaching into his coat, twisting it by the wrist behind his back while the other had managed to pull his gun out and had it trained on Lucian and the man’s partner. He began to pull the man away from Lakshmi to keep the gunman facing away from her. If he turned to face her, he’d break for him.

The barkeep, for his part, was particularly alarmed about the sudden presence of gunmen in his establishment. He ducked behind the counter, finding his trusty old side by side shotgun. When he rose up, he trained it on the man with the Luger in hand. “Drop your fucking piece!” the man bellowed.

“You heard him.” Lucian remarked, calmly tilting his head towards the barkeep.

“What a ruckus…” She commented, raising her eyebrows at the armed man. “There isn’t anything in this world that can’t be talked out.”

Apparently not liking his chances, or deciding he was a far better gunslinger than he should have in that particular situation, the man opened fire, firing a shot towards Lucian and his hostage, the 9mm round digging into the German’s shoulder. The gunman swung towards the barkeep, preparing to suppress or kill the Briton only to immediately be hit with dozens of ball bearings from the double barrelled buckshot. He crumpled to the floor, dead before he’d even lost his balance. Lucian tossed the man away from him against a table, grabbing a chair and smashing it over the man’s back. Other than a pitiful moan, the man didn’t move. Lucian looked to the barkeep, who was now fumbling with a box of shells to ram home into the shotgun’s breach.

“Lakshmi, my dear, I think we’ve overstayed our welcome.” He reached down and plucked the Luger, training it on the barkeep.

“We do not wish for any trouble, sir. Just keep the gun down.” Reaching into his coat pocket, he plucked several bills and a handful of coin. “That should cover our expenses, you can charge these fine gentlemen after we go, d’accord?”

There was no hiding Lakshmi’s rather giddy smile, though it faltered for a moment as the last man decided that rather than call it quits he would instead charge at them, grabbing her arm. Reacting without a second thought, she turned herself towards him, her leg hooking his ankle. Normally the next step should have ended there and the man should have stumbled, but she felt her heel slip into the crack and hold his leg steady, and she pushed down just a little too much on the man. His weight worked against him, and a rather sharp crack was heard as he fell. “Oops…” Her word was drowned out by the man’s scream, and she hastily grabbed her coat, managing to wiggle her heel out of the floorboard. “Well then, have a good night!” She hurried to the entrance, her wide smile unabashedly showing her enjoyment. As the cold air hit her, she turned to Lucian. “Care to split a room? I don’t think it wise to travel.”

Checking to make sure no one followed them out of the Kingsguard, Lucian pocketed the pistol and fell into step with Lakshmi. “Travelling, this time of night? Uncivilized.” Lucian remarked, shaking his hand after realizing it ached after their brief encounter with, who, exactly? “And a mighty forward offer on your behalf. I agree, let’s find somewhere a bit quieter. You can have the bed, I’ll take a chair, if they have one. I am a gentleman, after all.” A smile crossed his lips. “And we saved a bit of coin on drinks. I’d say a productive night overall.”

Is this what he called productive? A joke, likely, but still, now that she was clear of mind and the adrenaline was wearing off, she had to admit she was concerned. “I wish I could agree, but…” She looked around for a moment, making sure no one else was around before she would speak. “I can’t think this is a coincidence. It’s clear that they wanted us alive for...whatever reason.” She murmured, trying to think.

“Well, at least it gives some credibility for this entire endeavor. Whom would have the resources and drive to monitor the Baron and his associates and be bold enough to attempt to apprehend or silence them?” Lucian asked rhetorically. He put an arm around Lakshmi’s shoulders to reassure her; danger wasn’t something one could shake off easily, and they’d both escaped quite a bit of peril. “I’m sure the answers will materialize in time, but for now, we shall find our way to safety, and I will teach you how to shoot this gun in my pocket so the next time we run into those sorts of men, you will not find yourself at a lack of options. Besides, where we’re going, you are going to be thankful for it. Think of it as an opportunity to grow.”

The initial meeting had ended and each of the adventurers had either paired off for the night or disappeared in a (figurative) puff of smoke. Lysandra von Brennenburg was one of the latter. The whole event had become far too dry for her tastes. She hated the planning and hashing out of details. She was a woman of action, NOT idle chatter. The only reason she tolerated social events at all was because they were an adventure of their own sort, but that one in particular had exhausted her attention. She needed a stiff drink and a cab back to her family's English flat. It was snowing and it had only gotten colder in the several hours since Lys had initially arrived at the Estate. She had some trouble finding a driver at this time of night and in this weather but eventually her deep pockets won over some poor fool and he agreed to drive her back into town. So here she sat, clad in her fur coat and leaning against the chilly stone that marked the entrance to the estate grounds. Her mind mulled over the day's events one by one. Dinosaurs. The Garden of Eden. Lucian. Elle. Both of which joining Lysandra on the journey. The thought caused her to puff some warm air out of her nose into the frigid night air. It was going to be interesting if nothing else. She could hear the others in the distance talking. And by others she meant she could hear Lucian and the other woman having a lively chat. Lysandra bitterly wished she had something to drink. It was such a childish thought, to be jealous of a man's attention. Lys kicked a small pile of snow with her foot as she did her best to push the thought away. After what seemed to be an eternity, she heard the sound of automobile engine, coming to save her from own thoughts.

A few hours later, Lysandra ascended the stairs to her family's property, her suitcase in one hand, her bottle of local wine in the other. She was prepared to accept the next day's headache when a strange thing happened. She tried the doorknob as she went for her keys to the apartment. It opened. She froze and listened. Nothing. Lys quietly set down her bottle on her suitcase and peered into the room. The light was off. A dog barked. She flinched and felt the hairs on her neck stand up.

Moments passed that felt like an eternity. Lysandra steeled herself and crept into the apartment. She could see a light emanating from the study. She closed her eyes and mentally thought to herself if there was a gun somewhere she could get to. There was not according to her memory of the contents of the place. Instead she slid open a drawer and withdrew a kitchen knife as quietly as she could, before sliding it into her coat's inner pocket. A weapon secured, she moved deeper into the flat to confront the intruder. The door swung open. Lysandra stared at the plain-looking man dressed in a suit, going through her father's bookshelf.

She demanded to know who the man was.

'Guten morgen, fraulein. Isn't it a bit late for you to be out? I was beginning to think you were not going to show up.'

A German. Interesting.

"What are you doing in my apartment?" Lysandra spat, clearly in no mood for polite introductions.

'Your family is well-known in German high society, fraulein. And Germany is about to change. I- We need your family's help to secure its future.'

"If this is about the war-" Lys began before being cut off.

'Nein. This is about the future! We know what you have discussed earlier tonight. The Garden of Eden. The location of which has been a mystery of equal or greater import than the Ark of the Covenant. If we, us-' The man made a gesture indicating he was talking about not just them personally, but Germany as a whole. '-possessed the location of the Garden alone, it would do much to extend the staying power of Greater German Empire.'

Lysandra thought for a moment. What would her father do? He had tried to keep his work as neutral as possible during the Great War. There was no more German Empire. The November Revolution had made sure of that. The Weimar Republic was not an Empire.

"There is no more German Empire. What are you talking about?" Lysandra asked, bluntly.

'Not yet.' The man replied enigmatically.

Another revolution? Lysandra was not sure if she was ready to support that, especially for some shadowy group who broke into her family's home. She wished she knew what her father would say in a time like this.

"I would not even know what I am supporting. I cannot make a decision like this. Especially in support of someone who has just broke into my home."

'You will find nothing missing and nothing broken.' The man stated as he stood up and opened his coat, apparently in a gesture to show that indeed, nothing was stolen. Instead, Lys noticed the holstered 9mm Luger hanging from the man's shoulder. She tensed up ever so slightly.

She mustered up all of her quiet rage at having her night of solitude so rudely interrupted.

"Get. Out."

'Ja, ja. Have a good night, Fraulein. We will see each other again soon I'm sure.'

And just like that, the man left. Not before moving her suitcase and bottle into the apartment. Having nothing illuminated and slightly dazed from what had just happened, Lys replaced the knife in it's drawer and tossed her coat on to the rack before flopping onto the couch with her wine bottle. She cracked it open and took a larger-than-ladylike swig and closed her eyes. Another swig and she kicked her heels off. When she had purchased this bottle, she was curious as to the taste of this local variety. But her curiosity had long since been overpowered by a need to pass out. So she downed another drink and let her head rest on the arm of the couch. What a nightmare of a night. From a boring meeting to a freezing multi-hour drive home into a home invasion turned weltpolitik speech. 'We will see each other soon.' What did he mean by that? Bah, nothing could be done about it now.

No use worrying about it... Lysandra thought as she drifted off into a fitful sleep.

By the time Alcander had made it to the Manor, he had been too late. The building was already riddled with bullets, and the only evidence that the assailants had come and gone were the tire tracks in the snow, with great heaps of the stuff in mounds, tossed by the twisting motions of the speeding vehicles. It was only by the grace of Apollo (as he often said) that he managed to find and incapacitate a straggler.

"Du wirst mich nie dazu bringen, zu reden, Schlampe!" the german had said in his native tongue, refusing to talk to Alcander. The surprise on his face was priceless when Alcander replied back in german. "If you do not, I will shoot you." and pressed the gun to the man's temple.

Hours later, Alcander had made it to South Hampton in the first taxi he had been able top procure, having found some peace in the knowledge the Baron Cormack had been unharmed as far as the german's knowledge, as had Bertram and Jack, though why Jack had been there was beyond Alcander. He would have more answers at the ship.

The group had formed up at the deck of the Demetor, a lovely ship if Alcander said so himself. Stepping out of the Taxi, they would see the olive skinned young adventurer with disheveled hair and a ruddiness to him he hadn't had the day previous, and his clothing, a linen shirt and rolled up sleeves along his jacket had clearly had dirt brushed off of it.

He felt even further relief when he saw Baron Cormack and Bertram stood at the front of the ramp that led onto the ocean going vessel. "Oi, we're to cast off in one hour!" a voice called out. Another voice rang back from the aft of the ship. "Aye captain! Another hour lads!"

"Aye! An hour!"

"Must they yell so loud, Bertram?" The Baron said aloud, a smile playing on his lips as Alcander approached.

"Are you alright?" Alcander asked him, worry on his face. The Baron was already waving off his concern, clearly already tired of experiencing it once. He'd rather not relive it again, and it was writ upon his face as clear as day. "It is alright, my young friend. You should worry more upon yourself, for you are the one going into the very heart of Africa, not I." He laughed. "I have many places to live, and many powerful friends. Believe me, I am fine. I believe you'll need to speak with Jack about further details however."

"Indeed sir," Bertram said. "The ship leaves in an hour you know."

"Yes I...yeah." Alcander said back.

"Bertram has a peculiar sense of humor." The Baron Cormach said. "Now off with you lad. I know you and the others will succeed. After all, for what other purpose do we humans have the capacity for faith for, than for journey's such as these?" He held a hand out to Alcander, which the scholar took, and shook.

"Godspeed, my boy."

"Thank you, sir."
@Penny@Amaranth@Hero@Stormflyx@ihinka@Dervish

As soon as the Captain's instructions were done with and the crew of the Demeter scattered about their duties the expedition members dispersed as well in groups of twos or threes, until only Lysandra and El remained standing on the deck. A few feet apart, staring awkwardly at each other.

By the Gods you look like Death warmed over! El thought inspecting the Lady Lysandra from head to tow. How many times do I have to tell you that the only thing you will find at the bottom of a bottle or a glass is foul breath. Elle scrutinized her fellow aristocrat for another moment. She could practically smell the hangover on Lysandra. Oh, there was no actual smell, but the signs were all there. El's features relaxed, becoming imperceptible for a fraction of a second, before a huge grin split her countenance. She pounced!

"Well, well, what an auspicious happenstance, my ladyship Lysandra!" Elle attached herself on Lysandra's right arm and began tugging. "It would appear there's only the two of us left. Lucky me!" El knew perfectly well how independent Lysandra was and how she hated being forced to do anything against her will. So this little manhandling of Elle's... Well, womanhandling rather... Was probably the icing on the cake. But it was just how the two of them were. They weren't friends... exactly. Certainly not enemies. There was a healthy dose of rivalry, true. But calling them frienemies would amount to judging their relationship only skin deep.

No! What the two of them were was far more complicated. One thing was clear though. The two of them loved pushing each other's buttons. Too much even. And, boy, did they know which buttons to push.

So Elle made sure to push. Hard! She tugged Lys even closer to her and dragged her bellow deck to Elle's own cabin. Once inside, El shoved Lysandra to sit on the narrow cot and divested herself of her satchel and leather jacket.

"So..." The Countess began, her face splitting grin still present. "What does the lady Brennenburg think of our little adventure so far?!" Elle dragged the single chair in the cabin in front of the bed and straddled it crossing her arms over the back. "Is the cloak and dagger to your liking, milady?" El knew Lysandra was the consummate adventurer and lived for the rush of adrenaline that accompanied each new journey. She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively and questioningly at the same time.

Lysandra blearily listened to the Captain's briefing, but made no move to vacate the area as the rest of the crew and party dissipated throughout the ship. She would move in her own time. There was a long journey ahead of them, and the ship would keep going if she stood here for a few more minutes, half asleep with the beginnings of a piercing headache. Lys sensed someone else had not moved either, and Lys had a feeling she knew who it was.

Lys turned slowly, "Elle...." she croaked out before being pounced on like a mouse before a tomcat. She shook her arm uselessly as Elle tugged on it over and over while talking her ear off (as she was wont to do.) "Yesss... very auspicious- how do you do Lady Elle, so nice to see you again." Lysandra droned, her voice dripping with sarcasm like a poison, while also remaining surprisingly monotone. She stared at the wall as she spoke, her face a mask of stone, albeit translucent stone that betrayed a nasty hangover. She admired the other woman's, how shall we say, childlike energy. It was a wonder how she managed to remain so upbeat in boring, dull, dreary high society.

Suddenly the tugging turned to pulling and Lys realised Elle was scooting her along down the hall, presumably to a room instead of the hallway. They reached Elle's room and Lys half-fell-half-sat into a cot and looked over at the other woman. This felt like an interrogation. And only a half friendly one.

"I have not made up my mind. I had visitors last night. And I'm not talking about the alcohol either. I trust they visited you as well?" Her response was surprisingly candid. It even slightly surprised Lys. She supposed it was the hangover. in her current state, Lady von Brennenburg did not feel like using flowery language. Thinking too much right now made her temples throb in protest. At least her and Elle were on the same side this time.

Concern cracked El's cheery expression. The hangover was one thing. But hearing that someone visited Lysandra made El's skin crawl. So the bastards are targeting us because of the expedition after all. Elle ran unconsciously the tops of her nails over her lips lost in her thoughts. The Baron is really on to something then! But what?! The Garden of Eden is mostly a myth. And not one that is connected to riches or the likes. Who would be so interested in an expedition to find its location as to put our group under surveillance?! As the nail of El's index finger was running slowly, almost seductively over her lower lip, it suddenly stopped mid-motion. The Countess blinked once and was out of the trance state in an instant.

Elle shook her head as she stood up from her chair. Since she was the first to board the Demeter she'd permitted herself the liberty to ask for a small pitcher of milk to be brought to her cabin. She took a glass from the single shelf and poured the milk in. After rummaging for a second in her satchel she produced a small vile filled with what looked like ash and a packet of crackers. El uncorked the vile and poured some of the ash in the milk, stirred it well, opened the packet of crackers and turned to Lysandra. She pointed a finger at her.

"I've been told by reliable sources that a tussle between the sheets is the best cure for hangover, but unfortunately for you I'm not in that charitable of a mood." Elle winked at Lys and handed her the glass of milk and crackers. "So the next best thing will have to do. Here, drink this first and then have some crackers. I doubt you'll be able to hold anything else down anyways." The Countess shook her head. "I don't know why you keep doing this to yourself when you damn well know you can't hold your liquor."

Elle straddled back her chair, her eyes urging Lysandra to take her hangover medicine. "And, yes, when I got back home I was indeed informed that the estate was under surveillance. Though no one had the courage or the foolhardiness to approach me or my kin." For a moment El's eyes flashed with uncontained anger at the thought of people threatening her father and Preston Senior. "We managed to give the buggers the slip and I arrived here without further trouble." El sighed and looked out of the cabin window with a wistful expression on her face. "Makes you wonder what that old goat, the Baron, stumbled over." Elle shifted her gaze back at Lysandra, the concern from before now again evident on her face. "It doesn't look like you were physically threatened or anything at the very least." The Countess made it a point to run her gaze up and down over Lys' body. And since the woman made it a point to keep well in shape, a rather fine body it was! "Well, I can't be sure of that without a more detailed examination, of course." El cracked a grin. "So tell me. What did this visitor want?"

Lysandra watched El take in what she had said about 'visitors'. Though she said nothing, and whirled around the small room, mixing together many seemingly bizarre ingredients into a glass of milk, Elle's expression told a different story. Finally Elle, handed the glass of milk and some crackers to Lys, who smiled gratefully. "Danke." Lys responded in what almost passed for a cheerful voice. She sipped the strange concoction, hoping that it would indeed cure her hangover, regardless of the strange aftertaste. After nibbling on a cracker, Lysandra shrugged, "I like to drink."

Finally Elle stated what her expression had hinted at; she too had visitors, although apparently they had not been as forthright as they had with the Lady von Brennenburg. "Clearly someone powerful thinks it is important. And no, they did not threaten me physically. Apparently they had expected me to join them with no questions asked. Strange, yes?" Lysandra saw the other woman scanning her body. She never could tell whether Elle was going to attack her or kiss her. They both seemed equally likely given past encounters between the two. "They spoke of some great change and new empires and a united Deutschland." Lys continued, waving her hand around while describing these vague concepts, the haze of the previous night only increased by the hangover.

Elle observed Lysandra as she nibbled on the crackers and sipped, even if a bit suspiciously, at the milk. Of course the impromptu breakfast would not magically cure the hangover, but it would at least maybe settle Lys' stomach and put her in a less foul mood. At lady Brennenburg's assertion that she liked to drink El shook her head and sighed a bit.

"To each their own, I suppose." She stated and didn't comment further on the subject. "And so let me see if I've grasped the gist of your nightly visitation." Again The Countess' nails began caressing her lower lip as she was considering Lysandra's words. "They came to you and tried to appeal to your... what? Nationalistic spirit?! What on Earth could they believe is in the Congo that would allow them to do as they said?!" Elle knew of some societies in Germany that practiced occult beliefs and thought themselves as inheritors of ancient secrets and knowledge that would aid them in realizing their ideals of a pure Arian society. Could it be that we are targets of such misguided individuals?

El fixed Lysandra with a hard stare. "Well, one could assume that since you are here, you told them to sod off." The Countess leaned forward a bit. The chair squeaking plaintively underneath her weight. El knew Lysandra to be a true adventurer who lived for the journey and the thrill of it and hated failing in an endeavor. She also harbored a great respect for her father. Elle didn't think the lady Brennenburg would be swayed by nationalistic notions and promises of a united fatherland. Still... better safe than sorry, the Countess thought. "Make no mistake, though. Should you choose to betray me and this group of explorers and adventurers, I will never stop hunting you!"

For a moment Elle's face was harsh and cold mask, and in the next instance the ever-present grin reappeared and the spell was broken. "Wouldn't that be fun?!" She winked at Lysandra and once again entered her pondering mode. "We should probably reconvene with the others. See if they'd had similar experiences with nightly visits. Maybe we can piece together what these people want with us and what they expect us to find that is so important that can help them build a new and improved Deutschland." Elle once again fixed her gaze on her fellow aristocrat. "Feeling any better?" She rested her chin on her arms that she had crossed over the chair's back. "If you want you can take a nap. I promise I won't lay a hand on you." Elle paused, mischief written all over her face. "Maybe just a finger or two." She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively and chuckled.

Lys took her time in imbibing the strange concoction as she listened to Elle summarise Lys's recollection of the night before. She had to admit, the Countess did get most of the events right, probably more so than Lys had remembered, seeing as the night was basically an alcohol-induced haze at this point. Maybe Elle knew Lysandra better than Lysandra knew Lysandra. At this point in their 'relationship' it would not surprise her. Lysandra gave an ambivalent shrug. "That is more or less what happened, yes. As for the object of their desire? I do not know. One would imagine it would have to be what the Baron showed us last night."

Lys took another cautious sip of the milk and a nibble of the crackers. "Mhm. I chased him out of my apartment promptly. Although what he said on his way out the door troubles me. He said we would see each other again very soon." Lys lowered her voice and sat up slightly as she spoke the last sentence, as if she feared he could be on the ship this very moment. After finishing, she lay back down and gave a coy smile. She found it highly amusing how Elle could switch from being so concerned about her to threatening to hunt her down forever and back again. "I would hope so. I'd show you the same courtesy, you know."

"Hm, that doesn't sound good at all. We should proceed forward with extra caution, knowing that they promised you to show themselves again. And soon at that." Elle stood up from the chair, putting it back in front of the tiny desk that also doubled as a table. She smiled warmly at Lysandra who was stretching her body on the cot. "Take that nap now. I'll keep watch." The Countess pulled a notebook from her satchel. "I have some stuff to do anyways and I don't have a hangover to sleep off." El winked at Lys, sat in the chair and began scribbling her thoughts in the notebook.

Lysandra nodded to her companion and set her drink and crackers down. "Do you think it would be wise to keep this to ourselves or share it with the others? One of them could be a traitor." She asked, almost rhetorically. Lysandra yawned as she stretched out. "Yes, I think a nap would suit me well," she agreed, "I trust you will not strangle me in my sleep?" Lys added with a wink as she folded her arms behind her head. She closed her eyes and let the soft scratching of Elle's pencil lull her into a much-needed rest.

"Strangle, no. And since I already promised not to attack your virtue, sadly I'll just have to settle for watching over your beauty sleep." Elle threw over her shoulder quietly as Lysandra was nodding off. She continued scribbling in her notebook pondering Lys' suggestion. That one of them might be a traitor. Is it really possible? I mean I can vouch for Al with certainty. I somehow would find it hard to swallow if Florence turned out to be a spy. Although who really knew. Spies ware like that. They were good at making people believe whatever they decided. Maybe instead of bringing what had happened to them to the group as a matter of consideration they could simply bait the others to reveal if they had similar visits by commenting on the cloak and dagger switcheroo of their meeting place.

Elle put the notebook away and stood up, taking her satchel and jacket. She laid the jacket on the floor and the satchel on top and lay down. All in all, she'd slept in far worse conditions that this.

Sound off if you are interested in continuing with a bit of a time skip. Also introducing a new character, fearless aviatrix, Opportunity Knox. Also I apologize to those whose characters I hijacked (Except @POOHEAD189) , this is just conceptual.