As the hours progress into mid-day, the scorching heat bears down on the backs and heads of those strolling the streets. But, the refreshing gusts of a cold wind provide a balancing effect, harmonizing with the melodious songs of nesting birds. The sun's yellowish rays cast a golden filter over the land, filling the air with a mesmerizing glow.

     People throng the roads and sidewalks, flooding every corner of the outdoor spaces. The streets teem with carriages and horses, moving from one place to another. Men and women stride about, dispersing in various directions yet maintaining an orderly demeanour.

     Among the bustling crowd, a young boy, not yet in his adolescence, navigates the streets with a bundle of individual newspapers clutched in his hands. With determination in his eyes, he walks along the sidewalk, distributing a single newspaper to each person he encounters along the way. After handing out newspapers to several individuals, the boy turns around and halts in front of a group of men. Feeling intimidated, he musters the courage to meet their gaze, lifting his eyes to meet theirs.

     Among the group, the boy's attention is drawn to a tall man, Cal. Clad in a black shirt layered under a darker jacket, Cal gives out an air of mystery. His once unruly facial hair has been neatly trimmed, giving him a more refined appearance that adds to his enigmatic aura. Despite the sunglasses obscuring his eyes, a penetrating intensity lingers in his gaze, intensified by the shadow cast by the brim of his top hat.

     Cal stands at the centre, flanked by his minions—Nelson, Rowan, Joel, and four other men. Like Cal, they sport matching attire consisting of coal-black shirts and dark jackets. Each man emits an imposing presence, further accentuated by their sunglasses and top hats that add to their stature. Meanwhile, Joel conceals the lower part of his face with a black cloth, but his seductive, mysterious eyes and brows remain exposed, hinting at a hidden allure.

"Give me that," Cal forcefully snatched a newspaper from the boy's trembling grasp.

     Trembling with fear, the boy swiftly turns on his heels and flees from the scene. Meanwhile, Cal and his minions remove their sunglasses, forming a circle as they examine the newspaper intently. Cal's eyes fixate on the headline, and he reads it.

"...Finally a parent...? Oliver Podeshire and his spouse extend care and grant abode to five orphaned children..."

     Upon discovering that his despised target has become a parent, Cal giggles and clenches his teeth. But beneath his laughter lies an ominous veil of deceit. His amusement conceals a seething rage akin to a boiling kettle.

"What has made you laugh?" Rowan asked.

Cal let out a groan. "Eurgh! I'm in hell!"

Nelson stepped closer, stealing a glance at the newspaper headline. Contempt flashed across his face. "Well, that's a bummer."

"Indeed, it is," Cal scoffed.

"Then, what do we do now?" Rowan questioned Cal, seeking guidance.

Cal looked at his minions. "...Tell me. Tell me. Where does this Podeshire live??" His piercing glare interrogated them.

"We don't know," Rowan replied, shaking his head while crossing his arms.

Nelson pointed at Joel. "Ask this guy. He was only jailed in eighteen twenty-six. That means he might know more about what has happened outside of prison than us," he said.

Cal swiftly turned his gaze towards Joel, his pure anticipation evident in the raised arch of his eyebrows.

"...I do not know where he lives," Joel calmly stated.

"Ugh..." Cal's fury escalated, causing him to shut his eyes.

"But, I do know that he serves as a corporal in a nearby military base," Joel continued.

Cal's hope rekindled as he locked eyes with Joel. "...Where can we find that military base??"

     Suddenly, the thunderous sound of footsteps reverberates in the distance, steadily growing louder with each passing moment. Cal's brows furrow as a tingling sensation crawls up his spine, prompting him to glance over his shoulder. And there, before his eyes, he witnesses a procession of guards donned in glistening silver-to-gold uniforms, marching down the street in perfect synchrony, forming two columns with ten men in each line.

"Patrols!" Rowan muttered, pointing at the advancing guards.

Cal quickly looked at his minions, with urgency etched on his face. "Put on your sunglasses," he commanded, his voice firm. "Now!"

     Cal and his minions hurryingly wear their sunglasses. Taking an extra precaution, Cal lowers the brim of his hat to cover his snow-white hair as he moves away from the approaching guards. Just as Cal is about to lead his men away from the advancing guards, he feels a firm grip on his wrist. With a clenched jaw, Cal swiftly turns to look and finds Joel's intense gaze locked on him.

"What?" Cal asked.

"It's the Remaining Podeshire leading the march," Joel explained, gesturing with his thumb towards Oliver.

     Upon hearing the name he despises, Cal's gaze swiftly follows the direction indicated by Joel's thumb. His eyes immediately lock on the Remaining Podeshire, prominently positioned at the forefront of the marching guards. Cal's deep stare remains fixated on the Remaining Podeshire as the guards strut past him and his men.

"It is him, indeed. I can still remember what he looks like," Cal murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "Beautifully lethal," he described.

"Are you certain it's him?" Nelson whispered.

"Certain or not, we still have to make sure it's him," Cal said.

     Cal discreetly creeps behind the marching guards, stealthily trailing their every move. Nelson, Rowan, Joel, and the rest of the group swiftly follow in Cal's footsteps, silently tracking the guards' path. Like predators on the prowl, Cal and his minions assume their roles, quietly stalking their lone prey amidst the bustling crowds in the streets.