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small-fortunes

5 years ago

The Continental London

“For every shadow Her Grace did cast,

We saluted Her in the streets and in our homes.

Right from the beginning, we scattered flowers

Said our prayers, wrote our tomes.

There were Thirteen in her Court

She gathered thousands to spare.

And in the face of revolution

She was always there.

We are London

So she said

Her Grace is proud and true

We are London

And on this hour

We are here for you.”

Sir Jeremy: A proper gentleman, esquire’s esquire, a dozen titles or more. Managed by the Queen but not the one in Buckingham Palace. Owns the finest Hotel in the city, if not in England. Countless thousands stay in his rooms. He cares for them all. But they don’t know the truth. What’s hidden beneath the stairs, behind the doors, in the bowels of the Underground where he is King. And he says to the world, “My dear people - We are London.”

Sir Sable: Clever man. They say he moves like a shark in blooded water. The fog still clings to him. They speak his name in Absinthe Bars and Gambling Houses over cards and coffee cups. He can tell you everything about anything in London. He has friends who would amaze you. He knows a bloke, that knows a bloke that sold that car for that coin that likely saved your sister’s life. You should make him your friend too, is everyone’s advice. There’s something sharp about his eyes.

And he says to the world, “My dear people - We are London.”