Mr. Brass
Daniel Lawlis
Mr. Brass (second volume of the series The Republic of Selegania).
This book is a work of fiction. All names and places are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Copyright © 2014 by Daniel Lawlis
All rights reserved.
© Ra3rn | Dreamstime.com - Fist With Brass Knuckles Photo
(Adjustments to photos made by Daniel Lawlis)
Mr. Brass
Chapter 1
Lady Mary was unsure as to whether she wanted the gold or the silver necklace. The silver one was actually prettier. It had an image of a beloved Seleganian deity and exquisite calligraphy in Ridervarian. The gold one was also handsome, but it lacked any of the ornamentation of its competitor on this beautiful, sunny Friday afternoon. Such are the worries that plague some, as the mind is intent upon inventing dilemmas, and thus, where no real quandary exists, the imagination produces such a superb counterfeit as to cause the same worry another might feel over lack of food or shelter.
She stepped outside to consult her husband, Sir Edgar, who appeared unsure as to whether he would deign to enter the store. His resolution not to do so had once been firm, but the display of an array of fine top hats in the storefront window teased him as mercilessly as giant lollipops might a small child. He had several dozen at home, all without blemish (the appearance of the slightest wear on the leather crowns that signaled him as a gentleman would earn them immediate destruction), yet there was one in the window that seemed unique. It was perhaps an inch or two taller than any of the others he had, though not so much so that he feared upon wearing it it would make an unpleasant encounter with some low-hanging ceiling that would reveal to all the ferocious pace of his growing baldness.
Suddenly, just as Lady Mary appeared to present her vexing dilemma to her husband, a shrill cry interrupted both her incipient question and Sir Edgar’s deep meditation.
“Ahhhhh!!!!”
It was a woman’s voice. Of that, there could be no doubt. And judging by the sound of it, one could justifiably assume more than a purse-snatching was underway. Perhaps some heinous criminal had brandished a knife and dared interrupt the sublime ambience of this exclusive shopping district just blocks away from the senate.
Both Lady Mary and Sir Edgar turned to look, their curiosity just barely excelling their urge to turn tail and run to the refuge of their fine coach parked nearby, within which they could barricade themselves from whatever unwholesome mischief was afoot.
Their curiosity, erstwhile a narrow victor, soon became a domineering force so powerful they could not have moved if their lives depended upon it, and perhaps at some deep level they feared their lives just might so depend.
They had turned just in time to see the last of what appeared to be about a dozen . . . things quit a fine carriage within which they had presumably all theretofore been traveling. They appeared pale white, yet their whiteness was in contest with some vile substance smeared all over their bodies. And though mud had seemed to be the most logical guess, the smell, apparent at a dozen yards, soon better informed their senses.
“WE WANT IT!!” one of them cried, soon chorused by another.
“WE WANT THE GREEEEENNNNNN!!!”
It was at that moment Lady Mary swooned, as she realized these savages were coming her way at no slow pace, covered in what appeared to be horse dung, and otherwise as naked as the day their mothers bore them—that is, unless they were demons that had merely assumed a fleshly form.
The wild men began running around madly, clearing a large path around them far more efficiently than a hundred armed soldiers could have done amongst this mass of moneyed gentry. It soon turned into a full stampede, as humans—like antelope—also occasionally see the sense in paying heed to their fellows’ efforts at self-preservation, rather than waiting to see if such hasty flight is indeed warranted.
The band of naked savages began overturning tables filled with fine merchandise they surely would never have achieved by lawful means within their entire miserable lives, yet they dispatched these commodities willy-nilly, the way a thieving child might impatiently brush aside gold coins while searching for candies.
“IN HERE, MATES!!!” one of the beasts announced.
When the unfortunate store owner realized “HERE” meant his store, he didn’t waste time attempting to barricade the door, as he might have under less severe circumstances, but instead left his shop running like a gazelle, lest he find himself cornered by these fiends.
A local policeman, proud to be of service to the community, prepared to tackle one of these mysterious savages, who had perhaps invaded from some far-off land where the benefits of clothing had not yet been taught to them by a more polite people, but as he neared the closest ruffian he was so overwhelmed by the pungent, putrid odor issuing forth from the body of this barbarian like an invisible shield far more powerful than armor that at the last moment he feigned so convincing an accidental stumble that, had the city’s premiere theater director been present, he would have hired him on the spot for the starring role of his choice in the next major production.
Unfortunately, the feigned stumble was too good, for it convinced even the hard ground, which sprained his ankle fiercely in appreciation for the noteworthy performance. His ankle now swelling dreadfully, he was not able to rise to his feet without assistance.
Being the only police officer in the near vicinity, as this was generally not an area where any other than the affluent dared to step foot, there was now little standing in the way of these hooligans and their apparent aim. While the polite gentlemen and ladies were fleeing for their lives, they were still comfortably within earshot and sight of the criminals’ activity.
“SMOKELESS GREEN, MATES!” announced one of them joyously, holding two large bags of it in his hands.
Soon the sound of breaking windows, crashing merchandise, and bloodcurdling war whoops of joy pierced the air with a frenzy.
A neutral observer might have expected the ruckus to continue unabated for hours, yet the thieves either seemed to have had a singular purpose in mind with respect to their objective or were well aware that such a scandal would not be permitted for much longer than ten to fifteen minutes before the far-more fearsome national police issued out of the senate building like angry hornets from a disturbed nest, ready to cudgel these savages into submission.
They did in fact issue as described although instead of finding the beasts there to be slaughtered they merely found the signs of their handiwork. Broken windows, scattered merchandise, and other evidentiary items told the story of their vicious rampage. They themselves however were not to be found anywhere.
