London's trail

The moon light glimmers and ripples upon the water, The enraged winds are nothing but a zephyr, now shall I say that this is picture perfect I would lie, for the prince has forsaken the land leaving London to scurry and cower in it's own filth. What's an empire without it's ruler, I Jack Drownhof have inherited the moral code bestowed upon me by Leon Delmage To fight against the Corruption of our dictators and find out the truth of the disappearance of sir Laurence. 45 Bakery street, City of Westminster, London The sent of oil and burning rubber intoxicates the air, But a beautiful strawberry blond girl Probably in her 20s with a flower apron approaches with an aroma of freshly picked berries enlightens my seemingly anxious mind "Pardon mister, may I interest you in our new Nazel's chocolate" "No thanks, madam, I am currently waiting on a friend" She smiles and moves closer "Then please come sit at my bakery for I can keep you company if you wish for it" I nod. "Merci darling, lead the way" Flustered the girl leads me to edge of the street and sits me down by a table, few minutes pass by and She comes with tea and cake. "Diane Roselia, I am enlightened to introduce you to my tavern" She says Joyfully I grab her hand and kiss her ring finger. "Jack Drownhof, Nice to meet you Diane" "Your such a charming gentleman Jack, may I ask whom you are waiting for" "You may, I am waiting for a sybarite I am planning on trading with him" She shares a glare towards me "What are you trading exactly? you don't look like the extravagant kind" I open up my coat revealing a bronze pocket watch with the clock tower engraved upon it. "I don't understand, Jack it looks no more than 50 pence!" Diane muttered in shock I smile and open the watch "This is the watch of queen Victoria's late son" Diane falls onto the chair her eyes widen "How could you get something like that! it should be treasured how can a commoner such as yourself get a hold upon something so valuable" "It is but my work, my dear" I say fidgeting the watch bewteen my fingers A deafening crash pierces our ears as a man in black and purple walks in, the cold outside breeze dampers the warm tavern "Good morrow, Jack and my fair Ladies" "Arnie you sure know how to take your time" I mutter Arnie, full name Arno Vangover is a short man that usually dresses in such a way even the high class nobles would be envious, he is wearing a black coat with a vest that contains purple leaves as it's pattern. "Oh bollocks that's sure rich coming from you Jack." We laugh for a bit "Now down to our conditions and trade."