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Upminster - the Horizon Realm - Babbage
The palace of Upminster was a technological ediface a product of enlightened minds, essentially a georgian government palace rivalling the Earthly Westminster that floated several hundred yards above Babbages steam powered version of London.

It was the seat of the Imperium, the greatest chapter of the Technocractic Order of Reason and the epitome of the glorious fusion of Britannic might and enlighted power.

Within its upper levels sat the meeting room of the Conclave, the elder leadership of the Imperium led by the Lord Protector Baron Kelvin, the empires most senior Enlightened Scientist and second only to her Majesty.

Upon this rather clear but blustery day the Lord Protector steepled his fingers and grimaced, the orders of state were arduous and the Conclave was making little progress other than to squabble, to think all of these men had the forces of creation and the britanic empire at their feet and yet they squabbled like children.

There was something to be said for the statement 'Awakening did not equal intellect' or 'pragmatism' added Kelvin mentally

It was Lord Kavannagh who was currently haranging his peers, a Mechanist by Guild he favoured military action and displays of might to solve every issue "My fellow Lords it is well established that the rest of the Order is looking to usurp our Imperial claim, despite platitudes and insincere promises of allegance our European and American counterparts are demonstratably manoeuvring within the Great Game, recent attacks are unmistakably Technocratic and expedentially more powerful than that of the lodges"
"Hear, Hear" roused Kavannagh's supporters, one of which Sir James Toblin picked up the mantle
"And what of Etheria, the Electodyne Engineers are assembling power and resources within a prime Horizon Realm one almost as great as this one and then theres the matter of the afront that is this sub-realm the Rookerie is now controlled by vampires of all things"
Further uproar ran through the Conclave "What, what, how are the undead able to travel into the horizon!"

Embedded within the centre of the huge white marble conference table top was an ornate globe, a world map set in a mechnical cradle of gold, whilst the Earths sphere cut from an unearthy crystal, as The Lord Protector stood the cradle moved in a slow circlular fashion allowing the crystal continents to enlarge, fragments flowed from them like molten glass floating above them to signify both moons, planets and horizon realms.

As this slow reconfiguration occured Kelvin quietly strolled the length of the table, rounding and standing at its end, one framed by a tall arched window and absent of any members of the conclave, who were sat around the other three sides.

He leant his hands flat on the tables cold surface, a sensation he took small satisfaction from being the father of thermodynamics, before looking at the assembled Lords his eyes crackling with white power, he allowed the display to silence the elders.

"It is a shame that despite our lofty ideals of awakenment and enlightment our attention is still only drawn by primitive and theatrical displays of vulgar power" his voice was ominouly quiet yet heard by every single person in attendance.

"We have more pressing matters than territory that can be duly claimed in time, granted the Order and Union are playing an intricit game however my Lord Kavannagh that is more a matter for spymasters than soldiers, I suggest a conversion with Sir Elgin on what measures can be prudently taken and as I am sure he will articulate the Americans are of no consequence at this stage"

"Etheria currently ties up considerable resources from both the Union and the Engineers, let them continue, The Rookery is a back door, an inner world connected to the sub-realm, same as Challengers place, they walk through back alleys from the Prime into it, let them, its contains them and if a few sleepers from slums provide them with sport, a little less chaffe from the wheat, Sir Toblin you are free however to marshal whatever forces to ensure this does not become murderously excessive"

"Gentlemen we have more pressing concerns, the Prime is experiencing increasingly more and more reality incursions, it endangers everything and none of you have brought intelligence on the nature of this, your agents have reported strange resonances of a corruptive nature not native to the usual dimensional entities or umbral spaces, this is your top priority"

"Gentlemen, our duty is clear to further the Imperiums aims on behalf of Her Majesty, other than the Grand Strategy your priority is these excursions, stop them and stop them quickly!"

The Starfire Club - 13 Canon Row - London - 1869.
The hansen pulled up outside the steps of the georgian office building, its occupant looked around furtively and hurried through the clubs heavy wooden doors, its valet deftly availed him of his cape and led him up a flight of stairs, nodding as he opened ornate double doors into a smokey chamber.

The chamber was set in sand toned marbles for the floor and coving, its walls supported by contrasting black marble pillars which in turn framed a great stone fireplace.

Sat before the fireplace were three older men, positioned behind an impossibly heavy partners desk, each were smoking either pipes or cigars creating the palour of thick blue smoke.

The middle man a thin fellow, balding with thick shoulder length hair of pure white and huge mutton chops, ellicited a thin smile, an almost predatory look upon his face.

"Lord Straigham, a worthy replacement for Sir Elsey, I understand he has been promoted, not before time" said the middle man who had by now stood "Cigar" he added gesturing to the ivory box upon the table, although Straigham suspected the materials of its construction might be less than whale tooth as he noted the lurid scenes and snarling faces carved into the desks edging
"Indeed, Master Falk, I am sure he would gratified to hear you say that" replied Straigham
"Possibly not" replied Falk chuckling, the smile never leaving his lined face as he resumed his seat

"So to business" replied Falk "As our new liason whats on the Crowns mind?"
Straigham's face grew grave, if he had his way he'd have every living soul or otherwise in this damnable building put to the sword and the building reduced to its constituent atoms "Before we broach the matter most concerning, the Crown would like an explanation as to why your charges have deemed fit to enter the First Realm, in direct breach of the accord!"
Falk turned to his companions "I did so like Sir Elsey, a most convivial gentleman" turning back to Straigham his face grey dark "We shared a keen interest in bird watching" he added looking directly at the Crown representative
Despite the chill that ran down his spine Straigham betrayed nothing meeting the gaze with a glare
"Very good" smiled Falk "It is regretable, some of our younger charges found another alleyway from Wormwood to Wapping, the matter has been dealt with, The Lord sends his apologies and in view of it being a few mud larks and dockers trusts no real harm was done"
Straigham sat back in his chair "They tore them apart in broad daylight in front of witnesses and fed upon their shivering remains"
"Yes as I said most regretable" replied Falk again a thin smile "I am pained to point this out however the Crowns great work on Babbage appears to be exasperating these back doors, I fear these playful escapes may grow more frequent!"
"That is out of the question, you gentlemen are the custodians of Wormwood, if you fail to fulfil that responsibility The Crown may view your continued existence as unrequired!"
Falk nodded a thoughtful frown settling upon his counternance, the fingers of both hands steepling in front of him "Lord Straigham I beg your indulgence, The Imperium and by which I mean the Lord Protector himself has maintained Wormwood and the Accord for no less than three centuries as its, secret army, if it is so disatisfied with our securing its occupants it may prove prudent for my companions and I to withdraw and leave the matter to The Crown!"
Straigham was not impressed meeting Falk's gaze "There will be no further escapes, you will remind The Lord and his wayward children, they exist by the mercy of The Imperium!"
"I shall convey this as a matter of urgency" smiled Falk

"And the other matter"
"Ah yes" replied Falk "The Imposter Queen"
"You are confident you can dispose of her?"
"Of course, the rebels think their Umbral Stronghold impregnable, this will be done" confirmed Falk
"Good" that concludes our business for this week gentlemen added Straigham, standing he regarded the three men "Good day"
Only Falk stood to watch the Crown representatve stalk from the chamber

The two mean looked at their leader who smiled, speaking only once he was sure Straigham was out of earshot and that suitable magiks now prevented intrusion "Worry not my companions all goes to plan, foolish are they that think they can keep the devil or his children chained in their cellars!"

A Private Wing - The Royal Observatory - Flamsteed House - Greenwich Park

The Apex of Venus
As Venus intersected the Prime Meridian the Great Machine slowly rotated, all of the Enlightened Astronomers of the Void Explorer Order sensed the motion of the planets, the realignment of the horizon and the change of the flow of Primal Energy.

The Universal Cartographers had orientated their new maps and programmed new coordinates into the difference engines, the great machine rotated implementaing the new paradigm.

The Cartographers checked their emerald green screens and ticker tape readings, the supervisor reviewed the printouts and nodded to the Chief Explorer.

Sir Harris Cunningham felt some tension leave his shoulders, he awaited the difference engine to complete the summary reports, unlike the other Masters his battle for humanity and reality did not feature umbral ships fighting off the arms of orion, travels to the moon or the darkest corners of terra.

However his works reinforced the other divisions works, his department wrote the deviant places and their inhabitants from history.

"Sir" called the supervisor, he frowned briskly walking along the gantry, down the metal stairs to the supervisors stall looking expectantly
"Its unravelling sir" she whispered
"What, again, how!" he breathed looking at the readings
"It was beginning to take, had almost stabilised" she added
"Damn, there will be hell to pay!" he grumbled

****
A Private Wing - The Royal Observatory - Flamsteed House - Greenwich Park

The Following Day
Sir Harris Cunningham stood in his office overlooking the Great Wing, he looked through the great porthole at the dormant great machine.

The hall now dimly lit was occupied by a few technicans, he turned as a younger man was let in, the man being Nathaniel Grovner, although a junior in both social status and ability, he was the Permanent Secretary and Aide to Camp to the Lord Protector and as such commanded significantly more influence than he deserved.

Niceties observed by way of morning tea, both men allowed the staff to leave Cunninghams office.

"To state the obvious The Lord Protector is extremely disappointed with this latest set back, I understand Lyonnesse is still accessible"
"As will be many mythic places" replied Cunningham
"Deviant places" corrected Grovner
"I'd appreciate it if a Disciple accords a Master with the appropriate respect"
Grovner looked indignant, Cunningham took the initiative "What is Whitehall going to do to address their error"
"Our error" stuttered Grovner his composure rapidly crumbling
"Yes, the critical work here is only achievable if the Lightkeepers keep the masses in order, both they and the Ivory Tower have failed in this, which has undone our great work, I hasten to add on several occasions"
"What an earth are you talking about Sir Cunningham!"
"The new tapestry was unwoven by paradigm resistance from here in our very capital" Cunningham reinforced his point by throwing a file of papers across the intervening table and a flyer.
"We have considerable resistance in the dark corners, the wild places, the rural backwaters, but the epicentre of The Empire should be firmly under our control and it is not" he gestured to the flyer
His face dark, thinly concealing anger and resentment Grovner looked at the gaudy flyer Madame Kalinski World Famous Mystic
"This woman claims to unveil the inner mysteries of the world, read minds and speak with the departed, she has a massive following, large theatres and music halls are sold out throughout London, if she dosen't work for the Traditions she might as well, the working classes belief in ancient mysteries and ghosts, is it seems stronger than ever"
Cunningham stood returning to his vantage point at the inner window "I am afraid Whitehall will need to address this failure within its own ranks, I will be sure to provide a full report at the next Council meeting"
Cunningham watched the Ivory Tower man depart, it would be a cold day in hell before his department became Whitehalls scapegoat.

The Clermont Hotel, London - 1867
The Grand Ballroom and its adjacent rooms was filled with dignitaries and socialites, diplomats, ministers, industrialists, dilettantes and military officers.

The conversation loud and pompous where the well to do played the game of jovial one up manship and smiling put downs.
Watching this high society game stood an anonymous almost unnoticed figure and his lieutenants, in reality this obscure figure was undoubtably one of the most powerful people in the Empire if not the world, yet none of the assembled would remotely recognise him unless he willed it.

William Thomson, First Baron Kelvin, The Lord Protector watched his subject avidly, a young army officer and his pretty young wife, on leave from a the campaign, full of bluster and motivation, crucially well liked within social circles.

"I see what you mean, he's perfect" he commented
A tall thin serious man stood to his right nodded
"And his family is well connected?"
"Her family sir"
"And this won't be an issue"
"Not at all sir, everything is taken care of if you are happy"
"Yes, lets proceed"

Pashtun Tribal Lands, Nangarhar Province East of the Khyber Pass, Afghanistan.

The First Afghan Civil War 1868.
Although the Afghan Civil War is a provincial affair, the proximity of fighting between allied tribes to the opposing Emirs, necesitates the intercession of the Northern British Indian Regiments to ensure the security of The Khyber Pass and The British Raj's interests.

British Field Hospital - West of Torkham, Afghanistan.
British Army surgeon Major William Callis looked up from his desk at the men entering his makeshift office, that being a cordoned off section of the medical tent. Although no downpour he could hear the familar rumbling of thunder across the White Mountains, the hour was late so he blinked at this unannounced intrusion.

"Yes can I help you?"
The lead man clad entirely in black apart from a grey waistcoat nodded, "Major Callis we are here on Government Business"
"This is most irregular, why have I not received papers informing me of this?"
"This is a matter of the highest importance Major, top secrecy required no papers that could be intercepted be sent"
The man placed a typed order headed the War Office on the table in front of the hospitals commanding officer, Callis read it carefully and noted the signature from the Commander In Chief of the Forces, Prince George, The Duke of Cambridge, the head of the British Army.
"As you can see from the very top, sir" added the man
Callis sighed, the nonsense of the Great Game frustrated him no end "Yes, Yes, what is it now" he said sharply
"You have a soldier, Captain Bermont wounded last week we understand"
"Yes what of it, and how could you know that" snapped Callis, suspicion shrouding his face
"We are to secure the Captain, he is to return with us to Britain"
"He's in no fit state to move, its a no gentlemen"
"This isn't a request Major, we are being polite!"
"This is outrageous" Callis went to stand, the man he had been interacting with stepped to the side and a shorter man raised his hand, palm facing the officer, a large golden coin with a chain wrapped around his fingers.
Callis instantly looked at the at the symbols inscribed on the coins surface, a sharp pain erupting in his temples and spreading across the front of this skull, he staggered "Doctor please take a seat" he heard amongst the blinding pain "You've been working too hard" the first man helped him to his cot, as soon as he laid down Callis fell into a deep dreamless sleep.
"Are you harmed?" asked the last of the three a tall severe looking man who had remained in the doorway, to the short man
"I'll live sir, The Bloody Straights in these backward holes" replied the short man in a thick East End accent, shaking his tingling hand, which was momentarily beseiged with pins and needles.
"Yes distasteful that we can't use enlightened Luminary methods, still once the war for progress is won, we won't need to lower ourselves"

The three quickly made their way to the convalescence wing of the hospital tent, each putting a nose plug and surgical mask on, as they passed through the tent they noted that the orderlies, nurses and soldiers were all asleep at their posts, a thin vapour creeping along the floor dispersing.
"Sir, can I ask a silly question" whispered the short east-ender
"If you must" replied the tall man
"Why didn't we just gas the officer along with everybody else and be done with it!"
The tall man stopped at one of the beds and turned "Because he will wake with vague memories that several of his patients had to be urgently evacuated due to their possessing military secrets that could not be allowed to fall into the hands of The Russians, their is no necessity to unduly affect perfectly good personnel on this occasion!"
The short man nodded his understanding, what the tall man didn't add was that Major Callis was from a well connected family important to the Great Work, his death or dehabilitation would be a set back to progress so ettiquete had prevailed, although others would not be so fortunate they would likely awaken tragically affected by profound shell shock.
"Curious he is wake" said the first man, the three looked at the prone form of young Captain Bermont, who was regarding them eyes wide.
"Unfortunate" replied the tall man as the short man pinned his chest with a meaty fist whilst covering his mouth, the first man tapping a large steel syringe, uncovered the soldiers heavily bangaged leg and injecting a solution into the wound.
Bermont tried to struggle but the short man held him fast, the first man drew up a second syringe of medication which he injected into Bermonts kneck, the Captain went limp his head lolling to one side, the three men watched, their Luminary Glasses glitching slightly looking at his pattern.
"The wound is holding and he is now in stasis"
"Good and his mind" said the tall man coldly
"We will erase it once we are clear of this Territory, there's too much risk of the local Straights disrupting the procedure " the first man tapped his goggles emphasising the interference
"Very well"
The first and the short man quickly assembled a collapsable stretcher, hoisting the limp form of the Captain onto it, the three men departed the sleeping field hospital disappearing into the night.

St Bartholomew's Hospital - City of London - 1868.
In a highly secure private wing a gurney sat in the centre of a procedural theatre alongside a deep brass bath filled with a luminescent blue gel.
To the right side of the gurney stood an array of complex brass machines sporting a mass of dials, pumps connected to infusion and extrication tubes, these machines in turn connected to a difference engine.
On the wall behind the bath and gurney stood a series of chambers, each large enough to hold a person behind a thick emerald green door.

The Imperiums Lord Protector sat in the auditorium overlooking the theatre, dressed in a surgical gown.
His Aid-de-campe fretted behind him "Are you quite sure about this sir"
He frowned bushy white earbrows raising in a momentary flash of annoyance "Quite sure, what are you fussing about boy!" he scolded
Grovner shifted uncomfortably
The Lord Protector rolled his eyes "Ah yes the recent rumours concerning The Hippocratic Circle and their experiments, you should take care not to generalise my boy, the Luminarie Surgeons of The Aesculpian Order are without peer or reproach, particulary the eminent Director Gurdon" he looked back giving his aide a dirisive look
"Come now Grovner I'd concern yourself more with holding a modicum of composure and avoiding Sir Cunninghams comments as to your inexperience or questions as to how you even became enlightened becoming slurs upon your reputation and good standing"
Grovner sat back silently glowering in embarrassment, the Lord Protector stood as the senior surgeon of the Circle finished his preparations and bowed to the Imperiums Head.

A quiet serious voice from the row behind Grovner made him start "Worry not sir, everything and everybody has been throughly vetted"
Grovner turned looking warily at the Tall Man, the Lord Protectors chief agent, the agent gave him a thin unsettling smile
"Don't worry your position is safe his Lordship will come through the procedure fine"
Grovner screwed up his face "I just don't know why we need to go through such a risky procedure, why not just transfer his memory and conciousness"
The Tall Mans face betrayed nothing "Not having the honour of becoming one of the illuminated sir, my knowledge would pale in comparison to yours, however from my limited enlightenment I understand that his absorption of the new pattern and using it to renew his pattern avoids the Straights and rejection as well as the catastrophic event of his mind being lost in transfer!"
Grovner looked suspiciously at the Enlightened Agent "Yes of course", turning back to the procedure the Lord Protector had disrobed and was laid out upon the gurney, various tubes had been injected via metal infusion needles at various points around his thin aged body.
The Luminary Surgeons monitored the apparatus as his vital fluids were drawn from his body cycling into a large glass cylinder the viscous fluid mostly blood turned black as it coalesced, Captain Bermont's unconcious body had been lowered into the brass bath and its blue gel, shortly after the pumps started up his body seemed to disolve into the regent which turned into a thick golden liquid.
The Lord Protector now vacated of his body fluids, fluids that any Luminary with a command of the Life or Entropy Arcana could see were consumed with decay, the machine changed gear fed commands by the surgeons and the golden fluid was pumped from the bath into this still form.

The assembled watched as he visibly flushed with healthy colour, his shallow aged features filling, his skin and muscle thickening and becoming more vital his unmistakable counternance assuming some of the young captains characteristics.
Director Gurdon nodded to to his medical corps team and then to the assembled witnesses.
The Lord Protector was carefully disconnected from the machines and wheeled to one of the chambers at the back of the theatre, where he was placed inside and sealed behind the heavy emerald green glass.
The agent stood and met the approaching Director Gurdon, "Everything went swimmingly, the procedure will have fully assimilated in a few hours, he'll then be ready for revival and can conduct affairs from the chamber, he'll be up and around by tomorow morning"
"Excellent news Director" replied the Tall Man who turned and gave Grovner another uncomfortably thin smile

***

Dear Mrs Bermont,
I write further to recent correspondence that your husband Captain Thomas Bermont had gone missing in action whilst performing his duty to Her Majesty and The British Crown.

It may serve as some small comfort to know that your husband has been located safe and well.

However I must also inform you that he will be unable to return home, the work your husband is conducting is of the most critical import to the Empire, its safety and continued prosperity.

As such due to matters of State Secrecy he will be unable to have any contact with his family or yourself, the War Office and indeed her Majesty thank you and appreciate the great sacrifice that is being asked of Captain Bermont's family and yourself, his wife.

In recognition of this sacrifice and the support you will provide Captain Bermont, a generous Military Pension has been granted to you with effect immediately upon receipt of this letter.

Your humble servant

HRH Prince George, The Duke of Cambridge
Commander In Chief, Her Imperial Majestys British Army.

***

The Luxley House, Kingston Upon Thames, Surrey - 1868
As he returned to his study Edvard Luxley, master of the house looked chestfallen, having just made his daughter read the hand delivered letter concerning her husband and left her sobbing upstairs.
The Tall Man sat in one of the studies leather armchairs, finishing a cigarette, he allowed the man to return to his seat at his desk.

"Mr Luxley" his voice quiet but harsh, the man looked up and met black eyes
"As I outlined in addition to the generous war pension your daughter will receive, your personal and business debts will be transfered to the Crown, if there is full adherance to the tennants of this contract" he placed his forefinger on top of a pile of documents for emphasis
"The Crown will dissolve these debts upon the death of either your daughter or yourself which ever occurs last, as is clearly detailed there will be absolutely no attempts of any manner to find or make contact with Captain Thomas Bermont, is that implicitly clear and understood?"
Luxley looked broken staring at the contract on his desk like a death sentence
"I said is that implicitly clear and understood Mr Luxley!" snarled the Tall Man
"Mr Pevensey is there no other way?, she will be chained in matrimony indefinately without the man she loves!"
"None sir, this is a matter of grave importance and state secrets, your daughter should be proud that her husband is of the highest importance to the Great Work of the Imperium"
Pevensey stood and then lowered his head to whisper in Luxleys ear "This is a reprieve Edvard, be sure not to allow your daughter to do anything foolish, your reputation was mere steps away from disaster and your family for the workhouse, those debts would have seen you incarcerated without the slightest doubt, keep your daughter in line there will be no second warning nor chance, cling onto the life saver Edvard as your very life absolutely depends upon it"

Pevensey straightened and nodded to his subordinate standing guard at the door, the man crossed the room and opened the first page of the contract in front of Luxley

"Sign here sir"
"And here"
"And here"
"And here"
"And here"

Satisfied this matter was concluded he left the room and house without a second look, stepping into the carriage where he awaited his men.

The Puddle Dock, North Shore of the River Thames, Castle Bayard Ward, the East end of London - February 5th 1868
In the early hours of the morning, the wretched lives of those living near to the Puddledock became that bit worse, Old Mother Thames already frozen stopping any boats from docking, the mud frozen over so mudlarking out of the question and no sailors for the whores.

It was a hard thankless life which the Big Freeze had made inordinately harder.

To the North of the river floated several watchtower balloons, constructs very much resembling the Celestial Masters warballoons from the Sorceror Wars during the Renaissance, despite being proponents of progress the traditonalists still had their favourite designs and motifs.
The hundred foot tall balloons floated in the penumbra watching the spiritscape of the Imperiums sleeping capital.

The crew of balloon 1184 Enlightened humans rather than fully illuminated yawned and shared snifflers of rum, resembling three story metal lighthouses held aloft by gigantic balloons the crafts swayed in the spirit realms night breezes.
Suddenly 1184 rocked heavily, its crew flung from side to side, rum flying everywhere and one unlucky crewman taking a heavy tumble down the ladders to a lower floor.

Boatswain Crooksley shook the ringing from his ears and rubbed his sore head which had come off the worst from striking the hulls steel plate.
"What in all things heavenly was that" cursed one of the crew from below, Crooksley ignored him climbing outside onto the deck gantry and looking out across the penumbral sky.
He blinked looking across the echoes of the the East Ends building and streets, their spirit representations even more decayed and squalid than their physical counterparts if that were indeed possible, the air ahead of them over the Thames was turbulent, he grabbed on as 1184 continued to rock.

"GET A LIGHT ON THE RIVER!" he bellowed, a crewman clambered up the ladder to the top of the hull swung the searchlight around and started it up, the electric battery flickering ominously before the light beamed to to life and illuminated the rooftops and the sky to the south.
The men all looked stunned as they were able to see a vortex of air and energy thrash about over the Puddle Dock, they watched helplessly as it descended upon an areas covering the dock, its warehouses and the two streets behind, there was a sharp crack as if every stone in London were split in two.

The mirrors of the warehouses and houses were flattened in a huge cloud of dust.

"Fire up the wireless get word to the office" Crooksley shouted, but his ordesr were met with screams, a heavy steel cable swung out of the darkness slamming into 1184 and sending the lightman screaming into the darkness, Crooksley had no time to mourn his crewman as the unfurling steel cords at the cables end whipped across his face, smashing the bones of half of his head and snapping his neck like twig.

1184 emitted a deep metal groan as more cables tore themselves from the metal rings around the balloon, this action shredding the reinforced canvas and sending the craft crashing to the ground.