The day before the crown ceremony.

The Britannia Empire is shrouded with darkness by the night. Despite it, the capital city, London, still buzzed with life. Storefronts with their bright lighting, vehicles roaming the road, and the people walking on the pavement doing their nightly routines.

One of the people walking on the pavement is Rolan. Clad in a black trench coat, a top hat, and round glasses. His current appearance was a perfect disguise where no people would quickly recognize his true identity.

He turned right to the alley, where darkness awaited him as the light of the city couldn’t reach it.

Rolan continued walking into the alley until he found a backdoor of a certain establishment. He reached for the doorknob and opened it.

A white-haired elderly man greeted him weakly.

“They are waiting for you upstairs, Sir.”

“Good, because I won’t be long,” Rolan said as he proceeded to walk up the stairs.

At the very top of the stairs, there was a door blocking it. But he couldn’t just open it as he did to the main entrance. Instead, he knocked three times, the first two being a loud thud and the last one a soft thud.

The coded knock reached the ears of the people inside the room, and Rolan could hear footsteps approaching the door.

The locks of the door sounded like it’s being undone. The door opened, revealing a tall man who wore a black suit with a red tie and black trousers. His hair was slightly disheveled and his eyes drooped heavily, making him look quite sickly.

“Ahh…Sir Rolan? You’re here.”

“That’s right, may I come in?” Rolan asked.

“Of course, sir. Please come in,” the man replied and stepped aside so that Rolan could step inside.

When Rolan entered the room, the first thing he did was check if everything was in order. Ten agents working on an enigma machine transmitting coded messages to the headquarters of the Foreign Intelligence Services. Five agents were discussing around the table with a map splayed atop it and the three agents whose task is to receive orders or messages from the headquarters. Everything looked good and in order.

He nodded in satisfaction.

“I see that everyone is working hard as usual,” Rolan commented.

“Yes sir, as you can see, tomorrow is the crowning ceremony. We have to ensure that His Majesty will be safe during the ceremony,” the man said weakly.

“You look pitiful, why don’t you take a nap,” Rolan suggested.

“As much as I would love to do that, sir Rolan but there’s more work to be done. The Black Hand is ramping up their game. We have been capturing a lot of their agents for the past two days.”

“Oh? Are you sure that they are not just random citizens? You know we can’t let the Britannia Empire know that the Ruthenia Empire is conducting a foreign espionage operation.”

“Rest assured, Sir Rolan. We won’t leave a trace. The people that we have been detained at our sites for questioning are affiliated with the Black Hand. Some of them were tasked to look out a place for them while others were ordered to do something like scanning the layout of Westminster Abbey.”

Rolan sighed. “The Black Hand is getting too annoying. Well now that you said that, the safety of His Majesty is in danger. Should I convince him not to attend the crown ceremony due to a threat of assassination? Let’s do a debrief about the security we are placing tomorrow.”

Rolan and the man in charge of the safehouse walked over to the table. The map on the table was the general layout of the city. There are red circles on it, encircling key places such as Westminster Abbey, a cathedral where the crown ceremony is going to take place, and roads.

“Snipers will be placed on this building, giving them a vantage point over Westminster Abbey. Agents on the ground would look out for suspicious people and take them down as soon as they saw one. The driver of the Beast has already been informed what road he is going to take in case of an attack. The Beast will take His Majesty here in this complex called Somerset House, where a helicopter from the battleship will be stationed and take His Majesty. Once His Majesty’s is in the air, our destroyers fitted with missiles will take down any bogeys who will try to get close to the helicopter. That’s all, sir Rolan.”

“Good, I hope that this evacuation plan remains a plan,” Rolan commented and continued. “But it is impossible as the Black Hands won’t stop at nothing. Keep up the good work. I’ve seen what I want to see, I’ll take my leave now. If there’s an emergency, contact me immediately!”

“Understood, sir Rolan,” the man acknowledged his orders.

After that, Rolan left the building and walked towards the street. He rubbed his both hands, generating heat, and placed it over his face, warming it up.

As he walked by, two beggars walked up to him.

“Sir…do you have some coins you can spare? My brother and I are really hungry,” the beggar said.

“Please sir, we haven’t eaten for days…” the second beggar said.

Rolan sighed. “I have no time for this.”

Rolan tried to move around the beggars but to no avail. The beggars blocked his way.

“Please, sir! We just need coins to buy bread so we can survive the day…” the beggar pleaded.

Rolan sighed again after knowing he had no choice but to give them coins. Because if he doesn’t give them something, they won’t stop begging.

“Alright…alright…let’s see if I have some coins here,” Rolan said as he rummaged through his pocket for a few seconds, before fishing out a few coins for the beggars. “Here—”

A predatory smile spread across the beggar’s face and pulled out a knife that glinted under the moonlight.

Rolan reacted quickly and leaned backward. If he was a second late, the knife would’ve slashed his throat.

The beggar didn’t stop and ran forward, aiming to slice Rolan’s neck.

Before the beggar could make the cut, however, a force, so powerful, crashed on his face.

Rolan had thrown a kick, sending the beggar flying and landing on his back.

The other beggar jumped in immediately, wildly swinging a crowbar he got from who knows where at Rolan’s head. However, Rolan was quick enough to dodge it, causing the crowbar to hit nothing but air.

Rolan took this opportunity to pull out his gun from his waist and just as he was about to point it at the beggar currently attacking him, a knife flew straight toward the gun, sending it flying out of Rolan’s hand.

The beggar armed with a crowbar smirked and swung his crowbar in a wide arc. Rolan jumped back and evaded the blow in a nick of time.

“Who the fuck are you?” Rolan asked as soon as he distanced himself from the unknown assailants.

“Who knew that the Chief of Staff of the Emperor is nimble enough to dodge our blows brother…”

“You’re right,” the beggar, armed with a knife, stood.

“What are you talking about?”

“Well it’s simple, we are going to kill you…the shepherd demands it.”