Finn had spent the best part of the day running around, giving everyone two-bob for every available picture they had of the King. Of course, Tommy instructed him to leave the ones that were in number four Watery Lane alone, out of respect for Sebastian; but also out of love for him too.

It was all Tommys plan, to call for a journalist, of a pretty large newspaper, and show people just how Small Heath felt.

The wise words of the man ran through Pollys mind. You don't parley when you're on the back foot. You strike first.

It took the best part of the day for her to figure out what he meant, but she hadn't expected burning of the kings portrait en masse. It was only when the smell of charring wood wafted through the open back windows of number seven, did everything click into place.

Tommy needed people to see, that to mess with Small Heath, was to mess with him. No one, not even Chester Campbell, was immune from the glares from those above.

Not only that, but by placing pressure on Chief Campbells shoulders, perhaps he'd realise that he had indeed bitten off far more than he could chew.

"Come on, for me?" A woman, Lizzie Stark, called out from the rather uncomfortable chaise lounge. Her hair jostled from its usual position of pristine, into a haphazard mess.

While Lizzie was considered a fallen woman, who had turned to giving men their desires,
Sebastian only ever went to her for an hour or two of conversation - perhaps a little bit of light reading, should she be willing to entertain the idea of re-reading books of old.

"Why would I go to a bonfire?"

Though a question, it was entirely rhetorical and wasn't meant to be answered, but lovely Lizzie did anyway.

"Because you've been cooped up in your room, or the library since you got the fear of God knocked back into you... and the sight of you makes me feel sad. We're friends, Bash, are we not? If not for yourself, accompany me."

Her argument, though unwanted, was very compelling. Sebastian had always been far too chivalrous for his own good. He couldn't bear the thought of letting Lizzie, or even Ada, attend such impromptu events alone.

"— fine, but Ada's coming with us."

While Lizzie knew what was going to happen at the bonfire, having entertained Thomas Shelby just a few hours before being graced with Sebastian's presence; she knew that he was still very much unaware. She had made a promise; for a small cost of one pound, and had managed to keep the information to herself.

But it was hard for her, to look Sebastian in the eye and continue to act as though the news, once broken, wouldn't hurt him.

"She can't go, well - she's not allowed. Your Tommy said something about not wanting her to get mixed up in all of 'this', whatever that means." A fools lie spoken by a fools wife, Lizzie kept her eyes trained on her book, daring only to glance upwards when she heard the sound of the cushions rustling against wool.

Sebastian had gotten up and made a few small - no, timid steps towards the window. He could tell it was getting darker. Earlier, he could see the blurred outlines of the other buildings, he could almost see them in the way that people saw their own shadows.

Now, he just saw a mass of blurred shapes, all slowly morphing into one.

"Fine, fine! Come on then, I want to feel the heat of the fire against my skin and that means front row seats."

Lizzie jumped up, slipping her shoes on before making her way towards the small mirror nestled between two books on the shelf. Her hair, while a mess, didn't look terrible, merely windswept — she could manage a few hours with a hat on, she was sure of it.

While freshening up her powder, she could hear Sebastian put on and take off his shoes a few times before finally accepting that she wasn't going to allow him to back out.

Finally, after she'd finished getting herself ready, and retying Sebastian's tie, the two were set to leave.

"Perfect timing." Though meant as a mere whisper to herself, Lizzie had accidentally spoken loud enough for Sebastian to hear her.

He didn't reply, of course, but questions began to swarm in his head. Perfect timing for what, she must've known. He had known Lizzie for far too long, knew how she spoke, knew when she was keeping things to herself and this was prime example.

But, he was a gentleman. His questions would go unanswered, for the most part.

A path was made as others around the haphazard bonfire noticed who had just arrived. Usually, they wouldn't have paid much attention, but today was different. It was as if everyone had been told what to do in the off chance that the illusive Shelby would show up.

Thomas knew that his brother would show up, but there was something in his chest that gave a niggle of doubt.

Scudboat noticed and sent Finn, who had just thrown the last portrait onto the fire, to tell the others. Word would've spread to the front, but Scudboat knew that Tommy liked to hear it from someone he knew, rather than a nameless face he saw in the street.

Hushed words were shared between brothers before Tommy turned to find Scudboat. With a nod of his head, Scudboat made his way towards the pair, and smiled half heartedly towards Lizzie - a woman he didn't much like.

"Orrite, Seb! Lizzie." The distain in his voice battled against the crackling of the bonfires wood and canvas, she noticed but refrained from causing a scene.

Sebastian turned to look in the direction he heard Scudboats voice come from. He was surprised, he was almost certain Scud wasn't supposed to be back from Camden Markets just yet. Maybe he had his days all mixed up again.

"Lizzie's here with me, Scud. D'ya think you could make us a path closer to the front?" As diplomatic as ever, Sebastian said his words with a tone that resembled that of his fathers on a good day. Strong, determined and left very little room for arguments.

Of course, orders were never ignored, no matter which Shelby brother they came from (aside from Finn, but he was only eleven), and Lizzie was escorted to the front alongside Sebastian.

She'd benefit more from the front view than he would, anyway.

Scudboat left them to talk, or rather - stare blankly into the fire, and Tommy left them to it for a while too.

Until the reporter came, and protection was granted.

"Tommys here," Lizzie whispered into Sebastian's ear, as he felt a cold hand clamp against his bicep. "I'll wait for you."

As Sebastian was led away from where he had felt most comfortable, he began to think. Tommy had done the best job at avoiding him for almost a week, and yet he was there - dragging him away for a conversation with a man neither of them knew.

Reporters were something Sebastian had only ever had to deal with once, and he swore he'd never do it again. At least, not alone.

Post War Britain was hungry for the horror stories, but also for the stories of love, loss, betrayal and victory. Bash had many stories of each, but none that he felt were worthy enough for the ears of the masses. He hadn't even told his family about some of the things he'd seen— the horror stories and the ones he wished he'd had the chance to write down.

Maybe he could ask Lizzie to, one day.

"Sebastian, this is Andrew Goss from the Birmingham Evening Despatch. He's got some questions for us."

It wasn't that the people around Small Heath were disloyal to the King. In fact, it was quite the opposite, they were loyal and that was why Tommy had ordered the burning of the Kings portrait.

"We don't want our beloved King looking down and witnessing the things that are being done to us." Tommy started, it didn't make sense to Sebastian but he couldn't start an argument with someone - never mind a reporter. The idea of their enemies getting word of the quarrel was enough to knock Bash back a step or two.

"So we are taking down his pictures."

The reporter swallowed, lifting his pencil from the notepad, looking the brothers for a moment before composing himself.

"But, why are you burning them?"

Sebastian's face burned red, from the fire in front of them and from the fury that had began to slowly boil.

This was why Lizzie had wanted him there, why Thomas had pulled him into the interview. It was all to play into the Peaky Blinders hand. They were holding three Aces, and Sebastian was their fourth.

"We," Thomas gestured between himself and Sebastian, "went through hell for our King, him more than most, walked the flames of war." He paused, the hand against Sebastian's arm tightening briefly before relenting.

"Write this all down."

The pencil scribblings began once again, and so did Tommy. He was such a great public speaker when the mood struck.

"Now, we're being attacked in our own homes. These new coppers from Belfast, breaking into our homes and interfering with our women. We don't think our King would want to see that happening."

Instead of him continuing, Bash took charge. He knew what Tommy wanted to portray, and sometimes it took the words of a second man to truly show how much of an effect these things were having.

"So, we're lighting fires to raise the alarm."

Tommy smiled half-heartedly, before turning his attention solely from the fire to the man with the glasses that were a little too small for his face.

They were ordinary men, who won medals, gallantry medals won at the Somme and the battle of Verdun, the Victoria Cross, and ones neither cared to admit to owning. They were just men, trying to live their lives as best as they could.

The two continued to talk and Sebastian made his way back to Lizzie with the help of a gentle Finn, he really had no business being apart of whatever that was. He knew Tommy used him, but sometimes it felt nice to be an important piece in the larger game of chess.

Sometimes, playing the pawn was easier, but playing the bishop was nice from time to time.

As Finn reached Lizzie, he let go of his brothers hand and vanished back off into the crowd, Bash was forced to remember that things were a whole lot easier for those who didn't have things they wished to keep hidden.

But, if things were easy, they'd all be in with the money, wouldn't they?

"Lizzie, I think you owe me a beer for that."

So, off they went, in search of finer refreshments. A gin, for her perhaps, and a beer for him. He kept his words to himself as she apologised over and over, she knew he held no ill will to her - he just liked playing the silent and brooding type, like his brother.

Little did they both know that in just a few hours time, one phone call from a certain Winston Churchill would change things. For such a man like Chester Campbell to not be able to handle a little town like Small Heath was a great shame to the man who supposedly conquered the uprisings. With him having still not found the guns, it was a greater embarrassment and Churchills distrust in the man was far, far outweighing the commendations he had gotten. The city just wasn't quite as simple.

Changes had come in bucketload's after the war, some good, some bad, but nothing could rock the Peaky Blinders. They were all a well oiled machine, a pretty large rock would have to be placed between the cogs for something to break.

——————

With good horseman ship, comes great responsibility. Sebastian had always told his brother that horses were like women. They needed to be cared for, pampered and paraded through the town. But, they were also fickle creatures with wild spirits. They were just as important to the ins and outs of the Shelby family as Thomas and Polly were. Without horses, the Shelby boys would've been nothing but men who took chances for nothing more than a cheap thrill.

Falling out with the Lee family was just as such. A cheap thrill.

Sebastian hadn't liked the company of the white beast from the moment it had left the field. He felt that something was off about it, something wasn't quite right but Tommy didn't listen.

He'd won.

Everything was slowly falling into place.

For Thomas, it was perfect. He had gotten what he wanted, and a brawl to show off his power.

Those things don't happen without some form of hiccup.

So, when Uncle Charlie had placed down a bullet, etched with Tommys name on it - a declaration of war from the whole Lee clan, it looked like - for the first time, that Thomas was out of his depth.

"Now what, Charlie?" Sebastian's voice called out from the stall that housed Monaghan Boy.

Brushing off the hay and dirt from the caps of his knees, Sebastian slowly took a few steps out, offering a polite wave to no one in particular, the hushed tones of Tommy Shelby were drowned out by the groaning of the boats and the clanks of the engines.

"It's nothing, Bash, go back to Monaghan Boy, Tommy and I were just—"
"Tommys with you? Right, I'll leave. Let you two carry on with business."

Eyes were trained on the fleeing Shelby, silent prayers were being answered and Tommy truly was grateful.

He didn't want him to know, of all people. The less he knew, the better.

But in actuality, the less that Sebastian knew, the more he felt like they were all pushing him out. On purpose, and he hated that.

As hooves trotted off, Charlie turned on his heels and headed towards the one nephew who wouldn't put up a fight, and who would appreciate a warning had one been needed for him.

It took a little getting used to, making noise when entering a room Sebastian was in, but Charlie - and Jimmy Dawson, Charlie's new found friend, had took to it like a duck to water.

"Bash, my boy." Charlie started, glancing from the Shelby on the stool, to the man brushing out the black mane of the horse.

Where Monaghan was, so was little Charlie.

"Charlie, you know Charlie, right?" Both men exchanged very brief nods of their heads before both sets of eyes fell back onto Bash.

"Sorry- yes, we know each other."

Bash couldn't help but let out a fleeting, yet genuine burst of laughter. Nodding as a reply had been engrained in men from the day they turned twelve, it was hard to unlearn, even Bash did it without realising. He couldn't be mad at them for that.

"Sorry- it's-"
"Habit? I know. It's fine."

Silence fell upon the room, albeit the sound of the horse eating a few sugar cubes offered on the sly underhand, everyone was trying to pluck their next words out carefully.

Uncle Charlie found it the hardest to talk so freely, but Little Charlie could talk someone's ear off given the chance.

"Do you want fish and chips? My treat?"

Two sets of almost silent words of agreement were uttered, and all three of them stood up to their full heights and departed. Curly would take their place, and given the chance, even spend the rest of the day with the well behaved horse.

"Just, not from near the Garrison. I don't like the new barmaid, and she doesn't like me."

While Sebastian didn't like Grace, he wasn't sure that she didn't like him back but it made him feel better just thinking that. No one dared to call him out on it, and since Bash rarely talked about those he openly disliked, it wasn't brought up again.

"I hear Mister Eaters has a deal on today, how about we go there?"