act37side

Got any more?

Sheffi... Di... No, Glou—

Baird! Gimme a hint already! Vina? You really gonna watch me embarrass myself like this?

Hey, it's your bet. I can't say anything.

Baird's right, wouldn't be fair otherwise.

Don't give up now, Indra. Victoria's got at least sixty or so nomadic cities. If you can think of one more, you're a sixth of the way there.

My whole life I've never left Londinium. It's my home. Why the hell would I remember what some cities miles away are called?

You must be real fond of cleaning up the alleys back home, then.

Dammit, I shouldn't be acting like a smartarse!

Oh, Hannah, do you still recall the time we went to the video shop? After we were done duffing the Lane Brothers up?

I think I do? Didn't the film have a manor with white walls and a green lawn... Was it some kinda romance? It just went on and on.

Then do you remember what the leading lady loved eating the most at the nobles' banquets—

'Sidmouth butter and vanilla roast fowlbeast'!

Yeah! Sidmouth! That's ten!

*sigh*... Vina.

You really are the best when it comes to leading, Vina! I'll follow you my entire life, I will!

No need to get all sappy on me now.

Alright, Morgan, you lost. Here's your drink.

You know Vina helped her out, Baird... Ah, whatevs, drink's a drink.

Morgan! It's your turn to pick up the protection money from the factories on Old Farleigh Road.

Don't forget to help clean up the alleyways behind Old Hank's sandwich shop.

It's times like these that Glasgow feels spread a bit thin.

Hah, one day, I'm gonna make all of Londinium into Glasgow Gang turf, and all those fees will come straight to us! Alongside the best sandwiches in the city!

If you took all of Victoria under your wing, who'd you even protect them from? The Gaulish?

Maybe those snotty nobles? Who knows, some tosser's bound to show his face sooner or later.

Norport can't make do without us, and neither can Londinium. There'll come a day when Glasgow's the heroes of the whole city, just you wait.

Not wrong, I'd say.

Indeed. Here's to the Glasgow Gang, the most important gang in town.

To the Glasgow Gang!

<p=1>Cavendish Manor</>

Did you enjoy the play?

A Victorian duke's daughter falls in 'love' with a handsome Sarkaz youth.

In order to eliminate this formidable rival, her would-be suitors conjure all sorts of dreadful devilish plots.

Who would have thought the playwright who penned <i>The Lady of Windsor</i> could produce such a provocative work, albeit only after a hefty writer's fee.

What do you think, Lady Allerdale?

I can't say I'm too fond of the ending of <i>Cemeteries of Londinium</i>, Earl Morrill.

Under the heavy hand of persecution, the Duke's daughter and the Sarkaz lad elope, united in death as they are buried together in a public cemetery. A conclusion that's far too... formulaic.

I never expected a young lady such as yourself to have the tastes of a haranguing critic.

Is it not enough to bring tears to your eyes?

To whose eyes? Duke Cavendish's, or the Sarkaz Regent's?

Tears will only serve to blind us, my Lord, and are often an accomplice to popular works harboring ill intent.

A shame, truly. Here I was, thinking you would have some empathy for the leading lady, what with her bound to a fate beyond her control.

Ah, I am so dreadfully sorry! Pray forgive my inadvertent offense. You must know that my family was once on good terms with the Cumberlands...

I don't really mind.

It's common knowledge that Her Grace the Duke of Caster aided me at my lowest. I have only gratitude for her. I see no shame in my circumstances either.

Then since you're taking part in today's festivities, may I takes your words as Her Grace's own thoughts?

You may consider them a friendly reminder.

Londiniers should be wary of those mercenaries from Kazdel, heaven forbid some ridiculous story to sow the seeds of pity and sympathy in their unwitting minds.

Kazdel is far, far away, and they simply don't understand these Sarkaz in the slightest. Do not allow tears to blind their judgment, my Lord.

Your words would throttle a talented playwright.

Bringing the citizenry to tears would hardly be a difficult thing for a duke, I say.

Is this also Her Grace's opinion on the matter?

No matter what you might think of this playwright, I do believe 'The Lady of Windsor' is a rare work of art. I whole-heartedly invite you—and perhaps Duke Cavendish—to give it a thorough read-through.

'Fins have not the limbs to drag themselves out of the swamp. Man has not the eye to see beyond time.'

If Duke Cavendish can understand these words and take them to heart, while keeping a wary eye on this matter, he can avoid becoming the next Duke Windsor.

No offense meant, of course.

Oho, I must say I quite enjoy your incisive view on this topic, Lady Allerdale.

The eye to see beyond time... A rare thing indeed. In comparison, ambition beyond one's means is as cheap as chips, wouldn't you say?

I can't say I disagree.

Despite the many years past, there are still those who have not forgotten that Victoria once had a king.

And there are those who carry the former heir to the throne in mind, alongside that sword of royal authority.

Duke Caster's actions are hardly inscrutable. Whenever she dispenses advice to the other dukes, do not forget that there are eyes upon her in turn.

I will inform Her Grace, my Lord.

It's getting late. I fear I must be heading off.

Not staying for dinner, Lady Cumberland?

I have an appointment with my tailor to prepare some winter clothes. I'm sure you're aware that summer in Londinium lasts but a few fleeting days—

But winter? Winter never comes late.

Then I shan't keep you any longer, my Lady.

I shall send a ticket for opening night to you beforehand. If Her Grace would like to watch, Duke Cavendish would happily sponsor the troupe to tour the Caster demesne.

I pray that Her Grace will not be blinded by her own tears.

A most suffocating banquet, was it not?

And who might you be?

You may call me Clovisia. Based on that distinctive white hair of yours, you must be Lady Allerdale Cumberland.

Madam Ailshie of your estate <i>has</i> ordered some outfits for the upcoming season from our shop, but I'm afraid we haven't finalized the details of yours quite yet.

Sorry, I couldn't help but overhear your conversation with Earl Morris. It seems your reputation as a critic of the arts is well-earned.

You flatter me. I presume you too are concerned about the present situation in Londinium.

Hardly, hardly. It's just rather difficult to <i>not</i> listen in as the clientèle discuss the recent changes when you work at a tailor's.

*sigh* It's getting dark. I should head home. Once you've settled on a design, please have Madam Ailshie contact me at your convenience.

Ah, right, speaking of Madam Ailshie, she asked me to pass you the Londinium Daily.

Farewell.

Might as well see if there's anything else newsworthy today, I suppose.

A vicious brawl in Norport Borough?

Is that...?

Feckin' 'ell! That's bloody ridiculous is what it is!

It's the third time this month. Been accident after accident here in the factory ever since that scoundrel took over the union.

Watch close enough and you start to notice how whenever some brave soul puts out a complaint about the union, he ends up dead in some freak accident a few days later.

Let's go then already! Take me to 'im. I'm gonna see just how brass this bastard's balls are!

Calm down! The union handles union business, the street handles street business. That's the rule.

Giving every bastard I see a right thrashing's <i>my</i> rule!

I know! Of course I know... But we've got no other choice.

The union's keeping it all hush-hush inside the factory. Not even the coppers can investigate.

This new foreman... Johnny, right? Who's behind him?

I remember hearing he's got some big name backing him. A relative of Duke Davendich, apparently...

Do you mean Duke Cavendish?

Yeah! That's the one!

Is he trying to get anything out of you lot?

Hasn't been asking for money or any of the sort... but ever since he became foreman, lots of the important jobs are getting taken up by workers from outside.

I see. You head on back. We need to talk this over a bit.

What're we waiting around for, Morgan?! Are we gonna let these bastards do as they like?!

It's not that simple.