Creativity

One moment, they were in the confines of the little office overlooking the factory floor. The next, they were somewhere else entirely.

As much as Captain Robertson would have jumped at the chance to sit this out, the Duke had tasked him with keeping a close watch on Mr Daim. Orders were orders, and good soldiers followed them.

Captain Robertson exited the hotel to find a clean-shaven Mr Daim leaning against a cabriolet, reading Shakespeare.

The monsoon had arrived late this year, but arrived it did, and to the people of Mallianwala, it was most welcome.

With one last burst of courage, Captain Robertson swiftly slipped into the room, pistol raised, to find a figure by the window dressed in black as thick as the midnight sky.

Realising he could finally get some answers out of the mysterious Mr Daim, Captain Robertson put down the menu, crossing his arms, “so, according to you, genies are real?”

It wasn’t uncommon to see unnamed labourers lying dead in unmarked alleyways. What was uncommon, however, was the nature in which this particular labourer met his fate.

It was from these very rooms Britannia commanded her vast empire. Mr Daim was about to enter the belly of the beast.

This wasn’t the first time Mr Daim found himself voyaging halfway across the world. The nature of his work had taken him all over the globe, from the imperial courts of Peking to the dense jungle forests of the Amazon.