Ivan Romanov circled Botter and I, keeping his pistol trained upon us as he did so.

“Lord Likely,” he snarled. “The aristocratic adventurer. The gentle-man of action. The Victorian vigilante.”

“It is nice to know I am as well known in Russia as I am here at home,” I said. “And I did not even have to spend one penny on advertising, to boot.”

“SILENCE!” screamed Romanov, hitting me in the face with his gun. “For once in your worthless life, shut up!“

“You make a persuasive argument,” I retorted, feeling blood trickling from my lip.

“This is one adventure you should have stayed away from, Likely,” Romanov continued, ignoring me. “But you could not resist, could you? You had to come and interfere.”

“If I am ever in the mind to interfere, I prefer to know with what or whom I am interfering,” I explained. “It is for that reason that I no longer visit Bangkok.”

Romanov laughed.

“You really do not have any idea as to what is occurring here, do you? Haha! Oh, that is priceless! You are still just stumbling around in the dark, aren’t you?”

“Maybe you would care to illuminate me, Romanov,” I said.

“Gladly!” Romanov exclaimed, clearly relishing his role as the villain of the piece. “Please, take a seat. Your man-servant, too.”

Botter and I moved to a small, leather couch in the centre of the room. Botter dusted the seat down for me, then offered to take my coat for me, which I thought was very considerate in these circumstances. Meanwhile, Romanov continued pacing up and down, like a caged animal. (Albeit a caged animal carrying a loaded fire-arm). He observed our display of well-mannered etiquette with visible disdain, which grew to outright displeasure as Botter suggested I might like a cushion with which to rest my back.

“WILL YOU JUST FUCKING SIT DOWN!” He screeched, waving his gun wildly at us. Then his tone lowered to a menacing growl. “You British, with your ludicrous charade of civility. Underneath all that well-to-do bull-crap, you are just swine. Filthy, stupid, ignorant swine.“

“I suppose a little light refreshment is out of the question, then?” I ventured. I was rewarded with another swift blow to the head. I winced. It really bloody hurt.

“You are rather out of your depth, Likely.” Romanov continued, wiping the barrel of his gun with a handkerchief. “You have stumbled into an international incident. You have fallen into something bigger than you or your over-sized ego. Bigger even than your ridiculously over-sized hat. You have blundered into a war, Likely. A war that will destroy your country and wipe it’s stinking Empire off of the face of the globe.”

“Well, I suppose every man must have a hobby,” I said. “Though I’d imagine stamp-collecting would be far more preferable, and less likely to result in widespread bloodshed.”

“Huh. Such arrogance, so typical of you and your countrymen. The same arrogance that your Prime Minister displayed in meddling with Russian affairs, and thereby setting in motion the Crimean War.”

“Excuse me,” I interjected. “Are we going to hear your grand scheme, or are you planning to kill us by boring us to death with an unnaturally prolonged discourse on politics?”

“SHUT UP!” Romanov yelled, his eyes burning with rage. He composed himself, then continued on. “The present tsar of my homeland may have conceded to you and your allies, and signed your wretched treaty to conclude that conflict, but I concede nothing. I am eager for revenge upon all those who opposed Russia, and those who have the blood of my countrymen upon their hands. I will get that vengeance, believe me.”

“By running away and hiding for a bit?” I asked. “Forgive me, but I am not yet trembling in my boots, Romanov.”

“Oh, but I have a plan so brilliant you will not be able comprehend it. You see, Likely, I planned to put your country in direct violation of that Peace treaty, by convincing everyone that I had been attacked and slain right here in this embassy, and thus on Russian territory.” He leaned closer to me, and flashed me a demonic grin. “My country would be compelled to react with force, and would be entirely justified in doing so. Your former allies would join us, and the evil Empire of Great Britain would be torn asunder. Then, once you were finished with, we would train our guns upon those who had aided you in the past, and destroy them as well. Carnage and death would envelop the land, and Russia would be left as the sole, reigning super-power of the ENTIRE WORLD!”

Romanov cackled manically, evidently convinced by the twisted genius of his own insane plans.

“He’s a bit odd, isn’t he, milord?” whispered Botter, as Romanov continued his rather overly-theatrical cacklings.

“I fear he is one kopeck short of a ruble,” I replied. “And I think I may be able to play this to our advantage…”

I turned to face our adversary, and addressed him in a loud, steady voice. “You are a lunatic, Romanov, nothing more. A deranged mad-man consumed by an irrational hatred which has devoured your soul and your mind until all that is left is nothing more than pure, unreasoned rage.” I paused briefly. “Also, you are a massive tosser and a wanker of previously unimagined proportions.”

Within a second, Romanov raced over to me, and delivered another blow to my head with his pistol.

“FUUUUCK!” I yelled, in an ashamedly unmanly display of anguish.

“I will enjoy killing you, Lord Likely,” Romanov hissed, globules of spit flying from his lips. “I just hope you do not struggle as much as poor Miss Nipples did, when I ended her life.”

I was already extremely annoyed, because not only was my head incredibly sore from the repeated bashings dealt upon it, but I had then suffered the indignity of being splattered with a man’s foul spittle. The news that Romanov had been Miss Nipples’ killer was merely the final straw, and I jumped to my feet.

“You, sir, are an utter, utter, utter, utter, UTTER CAD.” I yelled.

A shot rang out, and I fell to the ground.

- Lord Likely.

> Subscribe in a reader