The (Christmas) Eve of Battle

Hi there I’m James and thank you in advance for reading this piece of writing. The following work is the majority of the second chapter in my Victorian Steam punk book currently titled ‘Entropy of life’. It is a tale in which two siblings, having lost their family and home to war, escape to the city with the intent of joining the military. However they arrive only to find that, through unfortunate circumstances, there is more at stake in the world than revenge and defending ones country and people. Within a day of living in London the pair find themselves in mortal danger after having been thrown into a world of spies and assassins, the puppet masters who truly control the workings of the world. This excerpt from the second chapter of the book sees the protagonist siblings arrive in London on Christmas Eve after a long and arduous journey. The elder of the two, Francis, intends on joining the army to earn a living but unforeseen circumstances quite literally rock the pairs world when an unexpected enemy makes a dramatic entrance right in the heart of the city.


Chapter 2: The (Christmas Eve of Battle)

London at Christmas had always been a spectacular sight to behold and the recent influx of technology to the ancient city had only proved to increase the unique sense of magic one could feel on this cold winter’s night. The usually grey and grimy streets crisscrossing the cityscape, that one would have to travel on a daily commute to work, had been transformed into something unnaturally beautiful. Once soot blackened walls from surrounding buildings were brightened by lines of golden tinsel whilst the stone cobbled roads had been replaced by majestic carpets of white snow stretching off into the distance. Even the sky, usually obscured by clouds of smog, had been illuminated by strings of lights stretched across the skyline like so many twinkling stars. As for the population of London, the Christmas spirit seemed to have left no-one untouched; crowds of merry well wishers trudged through the streets heedless of the late hour, carol singers filled the air with their melodious songs and merchants stood in their stalls flogging their bizarre wares to whomever was passing by. Truly it felt as though the happiness itself had come to town, and indeed some whispered that even the stoic sovereign, Queen Victoria, allowed herself the rarest of smiles upon such an occasion.

Two such people, whose faces had spent more than their fare share of time furrowed in frowns, now walked down Park Lane with broad grins stretching from ear to ear. The boy, wrapped in a heavy sheepskin coat had both hands thrust firmly into the warm pockets of his attire whilst the girl next to him was almost entirely obscured by a thick woollen scarf and an oversized stuffed toy bear she was clutching tightly in both arms. Making their way through the snow covered trees separating the road from their destination of Hyde Park; the pair followed the crowds of other travellers ambling casually towards its centre and at last laid eyes upon the cause of all the excitement. Stretching into the sky like a pillar of light stood a fir tree as large as a four story building, covered from the ground to an angelic figure at its top with silvery lights, decorations and candy canes. Pausing in their stride, brother and sister stood still and took a moment to admire the spectacle. 

“Fantastic isn’t it? I bet you’re glad we came to see the festivities after all, aren’t you?”
Stunned out of silence the little girl turned her admiring gaze away from the Christmas tree and towards her older brother to reply. “Of course Francis, ever since we arrived in London I’ve admitted I’m happy to be here” If possible the boy’s smile widened even further but then he noticed that the girls head had sunk slightly and his expression faltered “You certainly looked happy, up until a moment ago, but now something’s troubling you again; are you thinking about…” Taking the liberty of second guessing her concerned sibling, the girl cut across Francis’ words.
“No! Don’t worry I’m not think about our parents again it’s just…” sensing she had upset her brother with her hasty words the girl softened her tone again. “We’ve come such a long way and we’re in a strange place with unfamiliar faces; I know we had no choice other than to leave our home but I still don’t know why we are here.” Without saying so much as a word Francis took his sister by the hand and swiftly but gently lead her to a nearby vacant bench, sweeping off the covering of fresh sleet on its surface before taking a seat. Gazing back towards the tree line and then at the crowds in the distance Elizabeth sighed and took the space next to her brother and waited patiently for him to continue.
“We’ve been through a lot get here, I know, perhaps too much. We’ve travelled over sea and land, through rain and fog but you’re right our only choice was to leave. Jersey, our village, our house is probably nothing more than a smoking ruin by now.” These words of harsh truth proved even too much for the usually detached Elizabeth to take and a lone tear rolled down her flushed cheeks; as ever Francis’ finger was already there to catch it and with a flick of his wrist he brushed it aside. His smile returning, the boy looked at his sister with pride; it was some testament indeed to her strength of character that in all their weeks of hardship and journeying this had been the closest she’d come to crying. “As to why we’re here I think you know that too. The money we have left won’t last us much longer, I need to earn us a living so we can continue to survive; we also need somewhere to sleep at night as we can’t rest in the backs of carriages indefinitely. There is only one job I know that will solve both our problems and what’s more keep you safe as well.” Cheeks still red from the cold Elizabeth turned to face her brother again, her wide eyes narrowing slightly as a thought crossed her mind. “I know you mean well and want me to be safe but I can take care of myself and I don’t think I could stand it if you died simply for earning a wage. Is joining the military really the answer? Is it the only way we can survive or…” the girl turned away to make her point “is there another reason you want to join?” Startled and confused at what his sister was trying to say Francis stood up and moved around the bench so that Elizabeth could not escape his gaze “What do you mean ‘another reason’? All I want to do is live and protect you, it’s all I’ve ever wanted” rising to the confrontation the girl too stood up to her full height and gave her reply. “Revenge! That’s why you want to join the army” Elizabeth’s cheeks were now flushed with anger as well. “Tell me that not a part of you is angry about what happened, our house is in ruins, our parents are gone and the last I saw of our island was the glow of distant flames as our boat sailed away!” In resignation and defeat Francis threw himself, cross legged to the ground, Elizabeth’s words bit deeper than she knew, not that she couldn’t see the effect she was having on her brother. Looking up, all trace of happiness were gone from Francis’ face and it was set in the same rock hard expression he had adopted for many of the past month to stop himself from crumbling altogether.
“Angry? Yes! There can be no doubt about it, anyone with a soul who had to endure what we did would be angry, but revenge? It’s not that simple. I’ve had plenty of time to silently rage at our attackers since we left, but I would never wish the same upon anyone else no matter who they were. But still, what I have said is true; the military will provide us with money and a home. If I am to take anything from my experience then rather than wanting to bring pain to others I’d want to help people and protect them from the same thing that has troubled our lives and ended so many others.”
Elizabeth was once again on the verge of tears; she hadn’t meant to make her brother explain himself and had never doubted his integrity as a person. Seeing his sister pained expression Francis at once jumped to his feet. “Come on now, no tears, we promised each other, and to think that only a minute ago we were smiling away like a couple of contented babies. Neither of us have had time to stop and think about our situation since our journey began but now’s not the time to begin dwelling on it. Christmas only comes once a year so we should enjoy it while we can.” Slowly meeting her brother’s gaze, Elizabeth found that Francis was smiling again. If anything could have been said to keep her going through her living nightmare then it would be her brothers’ boyish, freckled grin, an expression that seemed to wipe away the problems of the world with an indomitable optimism. Reaching out his hand Francis waited for his sister to take it though he didn’t have to wait long. Bemusement had long taken the place of her feelings of anger and sorrow so Elizabeth quickly took the outstretched arm and as best she could tried to emulate her brothers own expression.
Satisfied that reparation had been made; Francis then reached out with his other arm and took up the stuffed toy bear that had moments before been lying forgotten on the ground. “Wait! We don’t want to forget Mr Cuddles now do we?” Without waiting for a reply Francis laughed at his little sister’s expression of annoyance and stuffed the bear into her arms.
Her reply was characteristically indignant of a condescended child. “Hey I’m ten not a baby and anyway her name isn’t Mr Cuddles.” Letting any remaining thoughts of the previous conversation drain from his mind Francis continued teasing his sister in good jest. “Miss Cuddles perhaps then or maybe even Mrs Cuddles, if our bear has already found that special someone” still annoyed, though with hints of mirth returning to her face Elizabeth decided to enjoy the immature argument they were having. “The bear isn’t called Cuddles” Elizabeth retorted with mock exasperation “and anyway she can’t get married without another bear…unless you happen like her.” Elizabeth even went as far as to giggle at this last comment, something she hadn’t done for a long time; Francis couldn’t help but notice this though he was anxious to hold up their good spirits and so said nothing of it. “No thanks, she isn’t my type, what with all the fur; though I could have won you another bear if that stall owner hadn’t stopped me from competing again, anyway like I said before if we stand here talking forever we’re going to miss out on the fun and I bet someone’s giving out those candy canes at the bottom of the tree.” Elizabeth simply nodded at the proposition and letting herself be lead by her brother’s hand, she followed Francis’ lead in silence and gazed up at the sky, bear clutched ever tighter to her chest.

Though the hour was late and the illuminated hands of Big Ben read almost midnight, crowds of people now stood at the base of the towering fir tree like moths drawn to an enormous flame. As Francis had predicted, attendants were indeed handing out the ornamental sweets from great red stockings while they themselves had been dressed up to appear like Father Christmas. That, however, was not all the crowd was gathering for; to one side of the tree a large brass band, dressed in the same fashion as the attendants, was standing arrayed on benches, apparently preparing to play their instruments to the gathering. Behind that however and largely obscured by the tree itself was something considerably less festive. Covered in armour and painted like a snow leopard, stood the imposing form of a Brittanian battle tank and arrayed around it were a score or so of similarly camouflaged soldiers with not so much as a red hat or white bushy beard between them. None of the crowd seemed to be paying any attention to this additional feature, far too concerned instead with the promise of sweets and music; Francis however couldn’t take his eyes of it and even found himself changing his course to meet it. The appearance of soldiers at such an event was a painful reminder of the world they lived in, even if much of the Brittanian public would never have to fight alongside them. “Even so how could the men and women of London ignore them? Surely they couldn’t have forgotten so soon the atrocity they suffered at the hands of the Prussians?” In the thick of the crowd Francis was glad he’d managed to stop himself from saying those last thoughts aloud, for all he knew the citizens of London may simply be keeping a stiff upper lip and attempting to enjoy what they could of their lives despite their circumstances; after all wasn’t that exactly what he and Elizabeth were trying to do right now?

Wrapped up so deeply in his own thoughts, Francis had even gone as far to momentarily forget his younger sibling and with a panicked gasp realised that her hand was no longer in his. Swinging around on his heels the boy began to shove unceremoniously past groups of onlookers, inviting one or two disgruntled comments and snorts of indignation but he cared little for them. Retracing his steps, Francis at last reached the edge of the crowd and to his infinite relief saw Elizabeth standing only a few paces away, eyes still glued to the ink black sky.
“Thank heavens you’re alright, I though I’d lost you for a moment, id never have forgiven myself if I had. Why didn’t you follow?” Though still panting from a mixture of worry and exertion, Francis snatched up his sister’s hand and waited.
“I’m sorry brother its just you started walking away really quickly and I couldn’t keep up, I was just about to look for you in the crowd, but.” Elizabeth was still looking up.
“If I was going too fast why didn’t you say something?”
“Well I was going to but then I saw something in the sky, it looked as though fire was raining from the heavens”
“Fire? In the sky?” Francis heart skipped a beat. And he instantly looked skyward to follow Elizabeth’s gaze. On the horizon, past the bulbous floating form of the now airborne Buckingham Palace there were indeed small streaks of fire in the sky, but they were not what Francis had expected them to be. “Christ, you had me scared stiff for a moment I thought you were describing burning planes until I saw the sight myself.” Elizabeth at last looked down, her face blank.
“So you thought they were aircraft as well, it wouldn’t have been the first time we’d witnessed an air battle.” Trying to force his features back into a smile, Francis tried to ignore what he was really feeling. Was it worse that he’d so quickly jumped to conclusions or that his little sister had done the same?
“There’s nothing to worry about, they weren’t planes; look if they had been there would have been searchlights, we’re safe here I promise.” This time it was Elizabeth’s turn to lighten the mood with a smile and the sight of her upturned mouth instantly filled Francis with joy once more; the boy knew that even if they jumped at shadows for the rest of their lives it wouldn’t matter so long as they had each other to turn to in times of need.
“Shooting stars I reckon, it’s the only thing it could have been so I guess you were lucky to spot them first.”
Clutching her brother’s arm with both of her own, Elizabeth began to lead them back into the crowd and towards the tree.
“A shooting what? And why is it lucky?”
“A shooting star silly, a star that’s fallen out of the night sky, and its lucky because if you see one you can make a wish and it’ll come true, so I hope you made one.
“Now you’re being silly brother, I’m old enough to know that wishes aren’t real; after all you said that if I made a wish when I cut my cake on my seventh birthday it would come true…and I still don’t have a pony.” Both brother and sister laughed aloud at this, quite startling the Father Christmas look alike who had been handing them some sticks of rock.
“Well maybe the wish just hasn’t had time to come true yet, it doesn’t mean that it won’t. After all I know that a wish over a shooting star will always come true.” Despite being only ten years of age Elizabeth had proved to be an extremely pragmatic young girl, sometimes to exasperation.
“Really? How can you know? Can you prove it came true?” Giving his biggest smile yet Francis turned to fix his sister with a look of supreme sincerity, laying his hand on her shoulder as he did so.
“Yes, I can prove it. I can prove it because…we’re still alive.” 


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Some streets away from the colossal Christmas tree and the gathering in the park, a man dressed in military uniform was pushing his way silently through the crowds, a grim expression written across his face. If any of the people he brushed passed on his hasty journey towards Park Lane had noticed either the man or his urgent stride, none commented on it; for although the Christmas spirit gave one an inexplicable feeling of well-being, it was also intoxicating, to the point of carelessness. Had the citizens of London known what was about to occur in the centre of their celebrations this night, their nonchalant amblings may have contained at least a fraction of the purpose now possessed by the great coated man striding through their midst. Turning the street corner the military man almost breathed a sigh of relief for the only sounds that met his ears were those of contented shoppers and a brass band playing merrily in the distance. “Could I have been wrong? Was all the panic for nothing? No! Perhaps it simply isn’t time yet.” Pulling out a wad of papers from his pocket the man tried with great difficulty to unfold and read them but eventually the bustle proved too much for his attempts and he resigned himself to finding a nearby bench. Giving the immediate area a precursory glance for a place to sit, the man took in his surroundings with all its crowds and stalls, and was immediately struck with a feeling of dark foreboding. Through doors, past windows and in kiosks selling food, all manner of folk laughed, ate and sang together. Young, old, rich or poor, all had found it within themselves to share this time of goodwill together and for many such a sight to reflect on would fill one with a sense of gladness that even as war raged across the oceans, there was still time for peace and prosperity in life. To the soldier, however, this happy union, heedless of age, gender or class, was simply a well rounded sample of who would appear on tomorrow’s obituaries page if he failed in his duty. Knowing what was at stake, the man forced his mind to refocus, and as he did so he quite suddenly caught sight of an unoccupied bench sitting inconspicuously behind a nearby stall selling roasted chestnuts. Satisfied with his find the soldier moved forward, swifter than ever, and sat himself down hurriedly on its surface, ignoring its snow covered top which now began to rapidly dampen his trousers. Alone at last and with space to spare the soldier immediately turned his attention to his papers, a collection of writing with the occasional photograph, the most striking of which pictured what appeared to be the silhouette of another man. In reality the picture was actually an artist’s impression of a figure, and although it was close up the man seemed to possess no facial features at all save two glowing red eyes. It was this article of interest that the great coated soldier picked up first and after staring at it for some seconds he held it up into the air as if he were trying to compare the face with those belonging to the passer by. Obviously having no success in spotting the drawn figure, the soldier lowered his arm, then reached with the other to pull up his sleeve revealing a silver wristwatch strapped with leather to his arm. Lit up with an ethereal blue glow from some unseen internal mechanism the soldier had no problem in reading the time, but noticing the late hour he frowned and allowed the sleeve to fall back into place. Unaware that even now he was being observed the soldier carelessly allowed his thoughts to become words. “If one of the Thirteen are planning to strike tonight they’re leaving it uncharacteristically late.” It was then, no sooner than the words had left his mouth that the man realised he had not been alone. Reaching into his inner pocket whilst simultaneously spinning around with almost preternatural speed the soldier once again choked a sigh of relief and withdrew his hand from his coat lining. Behind him, standing beneath the overhanging roof of a pub stood two over dressed children; the elder of whom was carrying a paper bag full of steaming chestnuts, probably from the nearby stall, and the other who was clasping a great white bear in both arms.

“Who’s thirteen?” the young girl quite suddenly queried, poking her head around the fluffy cheek of her charge. Still in a state of bewilderment the soldier struggled to come up with a convincing reply.
“Never you mind who thirteen is I was just accidentally thinking aloud”
The little girl, eyes like saucers, said nothing but continued to stare at the flustered man in front of her. Seeing his response was evidently inadequate for the curious child the soldier hastily added “It’s just someone I’m waiting for that’s why I’m sitting here. Having stayed silent throughout the proceedings, mostly by virtue of having been chewing on a particularly large chestnut, the boy decided to finally intervene.
“Come on Elizabeth stop hassling the man, I thought you wanted to come back to the street for more food and warmth not to question people on their evening plans.” Removing the soldier from her gaze Elizabeth replied defensively “Sorry Francis, I was only curious, and I did think that he was talking to us at first.” About to suggest they move on the boy suddenly had an idea. Originally he had planned to leave all thoughts of joining the army until the morrow, but here was a soldier sitting right in front of him and it couldn’t hurt to ask a few questions, the foremost of which was to ask where the recruiting office was. Throwing caution to the wind Francis began to make his away around the bench once again leading his sister by the arm as he went.
“Yes of course, after all I though he was talking to me as well but anyway in the meanwhile I’m sure he won’t mind if we take a seat while he waits for his friend, right?” Francis looked up optimistically, the soldier, however, made neither a protest nor invitation but instead seemed far more concerned with the papers scattered next to him and across his lap which he began to hurriedly fold up.     

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The End- For the moment

Thank you again to those who had the patience to read this far. Unfortunately this is all I have written for this chapter so far though I intend to write more in the near future. As for this piece of writing I’d be eternally grateful to anyone who had the time to give it a review, whether you enjoyed it or otherwise, it will be a huge help to me and any future pieces of writing I intend to do. I’d especially be interested to hear if my sentence structure, pacing and descriptions are of a decent standard and if the characters were likeable and believable.