An ongoing letter from Captain Henry Forsyth (Royal Engineers) to his brother.
The Duel
My Dearest Brother,
Once again, I offer my dearest facilitations and trust you and the family are all well.
I am pleased to tell you that that the duel that poor Wilhelm was subjected to has been resolved.
The good professor had several options, with one being a team duel. Naturally I did not stint to support my colleague and dare I say good friend. Hartwell was likewise minded. So, the three of us were to face an unknown adversary in an unknown place. Only the timing was in our control. Wilhelm wanted enough time to reinvent one of his devices, which he duly did.
I used the time to create some ordinance, which I felt might be useful. I also found an old cavalry cuirass, which I had modified and reinforced to suit myself.
Hartwell was ambushed by knife wielding thugs on the street. It seems the intent was to wound him, for having stabbed him the assailants ran off. Robbery or murder were therefore not the motive. We suspect this dastardly noble was behind the attack and designed to weaken us. In the event Hartwell had plenty of time to recover.
In the interim we resolved to only go out in company and be more cautious.
Research into our adversary only reinforced what we expected. A petty minor noble, with a grudge, managing to stay on just the right side of legality.
In the event this coward didn’t appear in the field himself. He sent 3 proxies, leather clad, masked and much like the adversaries we have faced before. We know these to be highly capable, fast and deadly.
It is my thought that there must be a training centre for these elite assassin’s.
We were transported via kite into a typical Martian boulder strewn plain and the game began.
Having seen these operators before, I felt our best chance lay at range, where our Winchesters (replacements bought at some cost) could be bought into play. We therefore opted for the area that gave the most open range for fire, while looking out for the foe.
While we stuck together, they hunted independently, we had brief ideas of shadows crossing the terrain, mostly from Wilhelm using one of his inventions.
Then they had clearly spotted us, an arrow hit Hartwell, but only in the strap of the knapsacks we were carrying. One assailant was now known at range to the south-east, I heard another moving to the south and Wilhelm was trying to track one to the east.
It then became apparent they were using some kind of invisibility device, all but one.
That one charged our position, in hindsight I suspect to draw our fire so his fellows could come into close combat, which is where their skill lays.
I felt sure I’d got the blighter with one shot, but he had the devil’s own luck as my shot deflected off his sword.
Arrows were coming in from all directions, thankfully none of them hit home, close on a few occasions, but we did note damp smears on rocks where they hit. The cads were using poison!
How outrageously unsporting!
Hartwell was firing south at some adversary I couldn’t see, so dodged out at the one we could see and took him down.
Next thing there is one of these leather clad dervishes next to Hartwell, with two blades flashing about, in close to a noon day sun.
Wilhelm ‘gubbers’ him, that is to say he has this gun that fires some kind glue that can trap an individual for a time, a bit like a fly in a spider’s web, although the trapped maybe able to break free. It will also degrade with time.
Then another of these deadly swordsman appears out of nowhere next to me and suddenly I’m also trying to fend off flashing blades. Thankfully my new armour proved it’s worth, although I was taken aback by the ferocity of the assault.
Wilhelm had the right strategy at this point. Calling Hartwell to him he moved next to me and by strange mean of his miraculous device moved us all south in a blink, to once again we could operate at range.
From before the start of the encounter I had identified this as our advantage and close combat as theirs.
I confess I was usually badly shaken from the minor wounds I’d received. Plus, while the strategy of moving us is one I would have shouted out, being suddenly in combat, then not, discombobulated me.
Meanwhile Wilhelm used his ‘gubber’ gun to fix an assailant to a rock and Hartwell, fine shot that he is, did the rest.
Recovering from my stupor, I thought I saw an image running a bit to my right. I’m really rather proud of my improvised hand thrown explosive charges, we used them to great effect in defence of Fort McMurray.
Playing cricket has proved useful at last. It something of an overarm lob. But I put my improvised throwing bomb exactly where I wanted. It worked far more effectively than I expected. That was the last assailant dealt with.
At least no brotherhood marks were found on the assailants. I’m curious as to whether this elite group religiously or fanatically driven. Or are they just plain old-fashioned mercenaries?
Back in what passes for civilisation in this part of the solar system, a grovelling apology was duly received from the petty Martian noble. Wilhelm followed form and made a gracious acceptance, although I rather feel it was through clenched teeth.
Who knows how this will play the Martian population at large. There are those who will see the honourable outcome and an increase in Wilhelms’ already considerable reputation. However, there maybe also be those who still heed the false accusations, doubtless those bigoted, biased and unreasonable individuals, who fail to see the benefits of benign British rule.
God save the Empress!
Henry
