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LunarWolf
Cluster
- Joined
- Mar 29, 2018
- Location
- North America
(this is the first post done by InsertNameHere)
Archibald Ashmore couldn't call himself a self-made man by any mean. Being the heir to the Ashmore family gave him a title - yes, he was, in fact, supposedly Lord Archibald Ashmore - enough wealth to secure his life and probably his future progeny too and a reputation.
The Ashmore family originally became what they now were thanks to his great, great, great, great, great, great father, six generation ago who used to be a merchant and an explorer for the Empire when those two professions couldn't be told apart.
He roamed formerly unknown path on faraway islands and cities that would later either become allies or part of the Empire itself. It was just the way it was, no place on earth could do without or against Queen Victoria.
At that time, the Ashmore who began it all, Alabaster, was more of a respected, if a bit eccentric and brash gentleman. He wanted fortune of course but came back with so much more.
Even though one would say the rading roads he discovered and secured was what allowed him to kick-start his family's wealth and gain the title of Lord Ashmore, he would say this all paled compared to what he really brought back. Not what in fact, but who.
Alabaster Ashmore never told anyone the circumstances of his encounter, the hows, and whys, but it didn't matter as only facts remained. He brought back someone, someone that first became the family's caretaker until it was clear she would be with the Ashmore forever or, at least, for as long as one could tell since she survived them all up to now, seemingly without aging.
Apart from the Queen, who disguised immortality with by giving birth to female children looking exactly like her and wearing the same name, this person was the only one ever seen who would not die from natural causes. At least, the only one the Ashmore family knew and they made sure no one else knew.
Now, Archibald Ashmore was the heir to this event and the last of the Ashmore so far. His parents died and he had no sibling he knew of. Something that could be frightening considering he still was a bachelor and had yet to commit to one of the ladies other families would regularly introduce him to in hope of making a strong alliance with the Ashmore.
Why would they want to ally with Archibald's house if they didn't know about the seemingly eternal youth of the woman who had been the surrogate mother of every Ashmore? Because for all his flaws, Archibald inherited his family's wit and desire for adventure and the weirdest side of life. Which Albion provided aplenty.
The city, the crowned jewel of the Empire, was a place of secrets, wonders, weirdness, dangers and impossible things hidden among the streets filled with both the utmost poverty and the grandeur and décadence of the richest people in the world.
Archibald loved it and, even though he wasn't the pile of muscles a hero should look like according to adventure novels, he was a very skilled engineer with a wit as quick as they came.
Indeed, Archibald studied everything he could about the steam that powered the Empire's wonders as well as every artifact he could gather or heard about that defied the laws of science as they knew it and experimented a lot in his own private workshop.
And when he was out? He would test his discovering by helping the Crown as best he could with seemingly unsolvable cases or internal threats in form of spies, rebel cells plotting a coup or even the first serial killers that began to appear.
So, all of this probably explained why, this morning, in the Ashmore family manor, Archibald was slowly waking up in his favorite place that wasn't his workshop. He was still sitting in a very un-lordish way in a large armchair by a now dying fire.
The large book that fell by his right side on the floor revealing he probably fell asleep reading it, again, his hurt white shirt and pants were yet two more clues he didn't bother changing before falling asleep.
The half-finished red wine bottle by the other side probably didn't help him make a good decision.
Struggling to open stuck and tired eyelids, he stretched slowly before brushing his short dark hair getting his dark eyes accustomed the sweet morning light the curtains filtered.
Archibald Ashmore couldn't call himself a self-made man by any mean. Being the heir to the Ashmore family gave him a title - yes, he was, in fact, supposedly Lord Archibald Ashmore - enough wealth to secure his life and probably his future progeny too and a reputation.
The Ashmore family originally became what they now were thanks to his great, great, great, great, great, great father, six generation ago who used to be a merchant and an explorer for the Empire when those two professions couldn't be told apart.
He roamed formerly unknown path on faraway islands and cities that would later either become allies or part of the Empire itself. It was just the way it was, no place on earth could do without or against Queen Victoria.
At that time, the Ashmore who began it all, Alabaster, was more of a respected, if a bit eccentric and brash gentleman. He wanted fortune of course but came back with so much more.
Even though one would say the rading roads he discovered and secured was what allowed him to kick-start his family's wealth and gain the title of Lord Ashmore, he would say this all paled compared to what he really brought back. Not what in fact, but who.
Alabaster Ashmore never told anyone the circumstances of his encounter, the hows, and whys, but it didn't matter as only facts remained. He brought back someone, someone that first became the family's caretaker until it was clear she would be with the Ashmore forever or, at least, for as long as one could tell since she survived them all up to now, seemingly without aging.
Apart from the Queen, who disguised immortality with by giving birth to female children looking exactly like her and wearing the same name, this person was the only one ever seen who would not die from natural causes. At least, the only one the Ashmore family knew and they made sure no one else knew.
Now, Archibald Ashmore was the heir to this event and the last of the Ashmore so far. His parents died and he had no sibling he knew of. Something that could be frightening considering he still was a bachelor and had yet to commit to one of the ladies other families would regularly introduce him to in hope of making a strong alliance with the Ashmore.
Why would they want to ally with Archibald's house if they didn't know about the seemingly eternal youth of the woman who had been the surrogate mother of every Ashmore? Because for all his flaws, Archibald inherited his family's wit and desire for adventure and the weirdest side of life. Which Albion provided aplenty.
The city, the crowned jewel of the Empire, was a place of secrets, wonders, weirdness, dangers and impossible things hidden among the streets filled with both the utmost poverty and the grandeur and décadence of the richest people in the world.
Archibald loved it and, even though he wasn't the pile of muscles a hero should look like according to adventure novels, he was a very skilled engineer with a wit as quick as they came.
Indeed, Archibald studied everything he could about the steam that powered the Empire's wonders as well as every artifact he could gather or heard about that defied the laws of science as they knew it and experimented a lot in his own private workshop.
And when he was out? He would test his discovering by helping the Crown as best he could with seemingly unsolvable cases or internal threats in form of spies, rebel cells plotting a coup or even the first serial killers that began to appear.
So, all of this probably explained why, this morning, in the Ashmore family manor, Archibald was slowly waking up in his favorite place that wasn't his workshop. He was still sitting in a very un-lordish way in a large armchair by a now dying fire.
The large book that fell by his right side on the floor revealing he probably fell asleep reading it, again, his hurt white shirt and pants were yet two more clues he didn't bother changing before falling asleep.
The half-finished red wine bottle by the other side probably didn't help him make a good decision.
Struggling to open stuck and tired eyelids, he stretched slowly before brushing his short dark hair getting his dark eyes accustomed the sweet morning light the curtains filtered.
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