Caspian tracked down the Lord Abbot to a town called Lurie.

He liked being an attaché of the Agee government. It was a

nonsense appointment with zero oversight that came with quite a

few perks. This was how he found located the man who stole his

ring. It was also one of those parts of Caspian being Caspian

that the admiral was okay with.

He spoke to Lurie’s harbormaster about the Elizabeth, to

assure that she was locked in port for days. Caspian used this

time to shadow his prey. He wasn’t quite sure what sure what he

wanted to do to the Lord Abbot – so he took to stalking him for

sport while he figured something out. He was presented this

answer on the Elizabeth’s fifth day in port.

Caspian woke that morning massively hung-over and stinking

of harbor water. He needed a bath, but he wanted to check on

the Lord Abbot first. This took him to a nicer part of town –

just outside the private marina where he kept his vessel – where

the tattered count spoke to a barbeque vender.

“Okay. Thanks for the info, mate.” The vender handed him a

stick of meat. “If you see anything strange, come find me at

Debo’s.”

“But Debo’s Pond is over an hour away, my lord.”

“Not with my Brandy, it’s not.” Made uncomfortable by the

need for it, the vender tried to better express his concerns.
 “Your pardon Count Caspian, but I would need to get to

Debo’s to warn you. He could be gone by the time you return.”

“Sister-bleeding thief isn’t going anywhere,” Caspian

giggled. “I took a midnight swim last night and chained her

rudder to a pylon.”

The vender was in the process of congratulating Caspian on

his ingenuity, when he went cold and silent. He looked over the

tattered count’s shoulder.

“Everything alright, Zafar?”

“There is a man in the distance.” He opened the lid from a

steamy tray on his cart. It contained hot napkins. “Here.

You’ve got something on your mouth.” The street vender held up

a mirror.

“Make sure you get all the sauce off.” Caspian used the

mirror to spy on the man behind him. It was Julian. He was

leaning against a post and watching him.

“Bloody hell!” The tattered count whistled. “That one’s a

killer.”

“How can you tell?”

“Body language.”

There was no way that he was one of Jon’s men, at least

Caspian hoped he wasn’t. He was gone when the tattered count

turned around though. The barbeque vender had lost him as well.
 “No worries,” Caspian shrugged. “I’m sure he’ll find me if

he needs to.”

“Aren’t you worried, my lord?”

“Anxious maybe. Gave me the butterflies - okay, maybe the

bats. But no. I kind of got the feeling that he was just as

likely to skewer me, as he was any old bloke walking down the

street.”

“And that doesn’t bother you?”

“I suppose it should, shouldn’t it?” He thought on it for

all of a second. “No matter. I’m off for my bath. Don’t forget

to get me if you see anybody.” He handed the man some coin.

It was midafternoon by the time Caspian reached the pond.

The tattered count dismounted his magnificent steed, and left a

trail of sweaty clothing to the water’s edge. He took three

quick steps, leapt into the water and released a piercing girl-

like scream.

It was somewhere around his third hour at Debo’s, when

Caspian noticed that he was being watched. It was the same man

from earlier – and Caspian spied him mid-flight – while nakedly

swinging from a rope.

He landed in the water and swam towards the shore. Caspian

emerged from the pond, waist deep. He wiped the water from his

eyes, and coughed uncomfortably.

 “Now let’s get something straight here mate. I don’t want

you thinking that I’ll go and be your bum-chum, on account of my

lady-like scream from earlier. I’ll have you know that the

water’s plumb freezing. It’s quite nice once you get used to

it, actually, but the first jump will make your pips turn to

coat hooks.”

Julian just watched stone-faced.

“Now don’t act all surprised mate,” the tattered count

huffed. “I caught you giving respect to my backside earlier and

now I catch you watching me bathe? This begins to create

something of a narrative.”

Once again, silence.

“Now, I know I’m pretty, but it’s man pretty. You know,

soldier pretty.” Caspian stopped. “That doesn’t sound good at

all. I guess what I’m saying is – just because a guy

occasionally wears fuzzy slippers and an eye pillow to bed…”

Cough. “Guess you don’t know about that.”

Julian continued to watch the one-handed man shamelessly

flounder, and he began to wonder what his uncle had gotten him

into.

“So, how ‘bout we forget all that slipper and pillow stuff,

eh mate? Let’s try this again. The name is Caspian.” He

gestured to the watcher with his scarred wrist. “Alright, now

it’s your turn.”

 Julian ignored the question. The less Caspian knew the

better. He resolved, however, to throw him a bone and broke the

silence.

“Do you want a towel?” It almost sounded friendly.

“Don’t have one. I am more a drip dryer. Seeing as how I

have company though, I’ll look into speeding things along.” He

exited the water and looked down. “No laughing. I told you.

The water is cold.”

Caspian took a mostly clean shirt, and a pair of pants, from

Brandy’s saddlebags. He slowly put them on, while searching for

his sword. It was missing. Julian could sense his concern.

“Your blade is safe with me,” he explained. “I just want to

talk. You can have it back when we’re done.”

“Well it seems I am in a pickle, doesn’t it?” It was said

in a flippant manner, but Julian was left to worry if he had

crossed a line.

“Just let me finish,” the tattered count continued, “and

we’ll get to talking. Don’t worry now. I’m not going to go

rider on you, not before I get my sword back.”

Julian tossed Caspian his saber when he was finished

dressing. The one-handed man caught the blade gracefully, but

with the quick twitch reflexes of a man who’s used to fighting.

Julian smiled approvingly.

“She’s beautiful.”
 “She was a gift from my brother. Her name is Vipress.”

Caspian did not like that this man had briefly taken his

sword, but he found himself intrigued all the same. He also

appreciated his show of faith. Time slowed down as the two men

measured each other. Julian was first to break the impasse.

“My name is Julian,” he began. “A friend spoke highly of

you. He said that you might have an interest in what I have to

say.”

“Welcome to Debo’s, Julian. So what is it that you’ve come

to sell me?”

“Purpose.”

“You don’t say. And what makes you think that I don’t

already have one of those?” Before he could answer, the count

asked, “Do you drink?”

“I’m fine.”

“Good. More for me.” Caspian returned to Brandy. He

claimed a bottle, a wooden cup and found a comfortable seat.

The tattered count filled the cup and drained it, and filled it

a second time. “So what’s all this about purpose?” he inquired.

“My friend described you as a good man and a patriot.”

Julian had yet to sign on to the tattered count’s involvement

and tried to be careful about what he said.

“Well he’s in a pretty elite club then, isn’t he? I like

him already. Now, you’re a friendly enough bloke – little

intense maybe – but I did enjoy that bit of foreplay back there.

So I’m going to save you some time. I don’t do government jobs.”

“Excuse me?”

“Good man? Patriot? You telling me you don’t eat lunch at

the company troth? Cause the way I get it – the world has gone

and put good men, and patriots, on opposite sides of the playing

field. Besides,” he continued, “I am neither good nor

patriotic.”

“Consider this an older breed of patriotism.” Julian

measured the tattered count, his eyes, the way he moved and the

things he said. “I was wrong about you.”

Caspian shrugged. “Story of my life. Sorry to disappoint

you, mate.”

“No. It’s a good thing. To be completely honest, I wasn’t

sure how this would go. I honestly thought that by this point,

I would have already left you in a shallow grave.” Caspian

tensed.

“Relax. I think we’re past that point. I’ve been watching

you for a couple days now and there’s something about you.”

“You like me.” It was said smugly, as if it were a given.

“I don’t think that’s it – but I do think that you’re a

greater patriot than you’re willing to admit.” Caspian hated

being left out of the joke.

 “Alright mate. If you’re looking for some casual chat then

I suggest you join me for a drink, but if there is something you

are trying to say, how about you stop flogging around and say

it. ‘Cause – to be completely honest - you’re kind of giving me

the jeebies.”

“How would you like to tear down the UMC?” Caspian

stuttered, and Julian spoke for him. “Yes. A revolution.”

“Bloody hell. I don’t know what mother-bending joker put

you up to this, but I’m not the bloke you’re looking for.” The

tattered count looked around nervously. “The list of things

that I’d risk hanging in the streets for is a pretty bleeding

small one, mate.”

“Would restoring a Kheres to the throne be among them?”

Caspian snorted. “Not likely. With generations of nobles

bumping house staff, a line to Avery isn’t what is used to be.”

“Don’t get me wrong,” he continued. “I’m no fan of the

Merchants, but Marcus’s claim is legitimate on account of the

kid he fathered with Graham’s trollup daughter. What sort of

claim could you and your love child have, that theirs would

not?”

“His name is Brady Kheres.”

“And there it is. Okay, mate. Really. Enough’s enough.

Who put you up to this?”

 “Nobody. I know it’s a lot to take in, but I promise you.

Brady lives.”

“Nonsense. I would know if it were true. It’s just not

possible to keep a secret like that.”

“Oh, it is known, but only in certain circles. The fact

that you have not been party to the rumors speaks well of the

company you keep.”

“Okay. I’ll play along. Let’s say you are right and he is

alive. How do you know and what does that say about your own

circles?”

“Because I was there. Brady was,” the scarred knight

corrected himself. “Brady is my godchild. His father, Paul,

was my sire and my best friend.”

“But that would make you Sir Julian, First Knight to Prince

Paul, and son of the Badger.” Julian nodded solemnly. “But

how?”

The scarred knight pointed to his neck explaining, “The

enemies of Oroth have made a dire oversight.”

“Okay. Then where have you been all these years? Why

bloody return now?”

“I would have done so earlier, if I could.” It was hard to

explain. “I’ve been lost for some time.” Caspian pursed his

lips and nodded.

 “I know how that is. The admiral says living in the past is

rotting me away. Too many ghosts, he says. Too much guilt.”

The name perked Julian’s attention. “Contanos?” he queried.

“You know him?”

“He is the friend of my uncle who is responsible for

connecting us.”

“GusGus sent you?” All the tattered count’s tension seemed

to wash away. “Well why didn’t you bloody say so? He did say

he was going to find something for me to do,” Caspian marveled.

“I think he’s outdone himself.”

He looked the scarred knight from head to toe, and pointed

to his shirt. “Would you mind? Just to be sure?” Julian

unbuttoned his shirt and revealed his marks of knighthood. This

sealed the deal for the tattered count.

“So where’s the boy now?”

“He is hidden away. We would need to find him.” That was

more than enough information for the moment.

“Smashing,” Caspian exclaimed. “Alright. I’m jimmy.”

“Smashing? You’re jimmy?”

“Yes and yes.”

“Do you want to take a bit of time to let this sink in, or

maybe ask a couple questions?” Caspian waved his hand

dismissively.
 “What can I say? You’re a gifted orator – and my gut says

that you’re telling the truth. It has gotten me this far. No

chance of me second guessing it now.” He began to roll a cigar.

“This will not be for fame or adventure,” Julian pushed. He

needed to understand this.

“Already got them.” He licked the cigar paper.

“And it ends with our deaths or Brady’s ascension.” Caspian

didn’t know what the big deal was.

“I follow you mate. If not this – then twenty other

adventures of a less deserving cause. As it turns out,” he

explained, “I was already in the market for something worth

dying for.”

“But where’s your outrage from earlier? The hanging in the

streets?” He was beginning to think the count was mad.

“Heck Jules, I didn’t know you then. And you know GusGus.”

This made them old friends in Caspian’s book.

“Listen. I’ve been living my life for a long time now,

waiting to reach the end of my rope. And I was pretty well

committed to tie a knot and hang from it, when it did. That’s

pretty much what we’d be doing, right? What more do I need to

know? It’ll only confuse me anyhow.”

“I was told you might have a ship.” Julian couldn’t believe

he was taking this step.

 “Not at the moment,” he snickered. “Long story, but it

wasn’t my fault. I do, however, have my eyes on a replacement.

If I play my cards right, she could be mine by the end of the

night.”

“That’ll be helpful. Do you need to head home and gear up?

Make any arrangements?”

“I come fully equipped with everything you see here.”

“Alright then. Let’s head back to town and prepare. I

could use that drink.” He would need to talk to his uncle

Hughie.

“I left my horse over the next rise,” the scarred knight

added. “He’s not a stealthy animal.”