Author(s): Naps

(Washington POV)

‘A fire has been cast in the fields, Sir,’  said Caroline, addressing a matter I was already fully aware of. Indeed, my eyes had been fixed on it for some time now. Flames – the colour of persistent rust – pirouetted against the blackened skyline. I had come to inspecting it meticulously, eventually discovering that there was something within the glowing flames yonder in the estate. At once, my eyes were cast away from the horrendous sight. That unearthly shriek…

‘God,’ I muttered, watching as the feline – one which Martha had deeply cherished – perished amongst the flames. The screams didn’t last much longer than a moment, but in my ears it still rang. Poor chap. My dear Martha would produce a tribute through tears for him. Alas, I had more pressing matters. Negotiations were to be made. Alexander had trusted me to keep young Y/N and Emily protected from such instances as this; I had little choice but to honour my promise as best as I could. And, besides, a most promising idea was beginning to dispatch itself within my brain, a strategy which might shelter the girls from harm for a little while longer. In other words, if I executed this plan correctly, my duties would continue to be met. So, I acted sharply: ‘Send a message to the ringleader of this charade. Tell him to meet me inside.’ With a nod, she exited the premises, and my plan began to unfold.

~

‘President Washington!’ he began as he breached my property, placing a hand out for me to shake. I absorbed his features immediately, attempting to recognise him at all costs. For one, he had very particular ears, ones which poked out from his head like they were trying to break free. Other than this, his face seemed fairly indistinct, though his eyes were pig-like and restless. Of all the men I had met – and I had met plenty – many possessed the prowess to carry out an operation like this. Yet, I simply could not identify him. His hair was snowy and delicately wrapped itself around the back of his cranium, like a forgiving cloud which kept his head afloat.

‘I fear we may be at a misunderstanding,’ I replied, taking his hand into mine and gripping it tight.

‘Oh, I don’t think we have!’ the snarky figure replied, his voice overbearing and suggestive. I let go of his hand at once, but before I could begin to disarm his disputes, my attention was apprehended by an immense, bulky man who approached from behind. ‘I hope you don’t mind Spencer joining us, hm?’ He smirked, firing a victorious squint my way. Did he think that some soldier of immaterial value would immediately grant him success? Was it not I who strategized our way from British control? In comparison to combatting King George’s malevolence, this particular scenario would be like an unfavourable cup of tea.

‘May I ask your business here, Mister…’

‘Tindale. Solomon Tindale,’ he replied, arrogance circling his tone, ‘and you know exactly why I’m here, Mr. President.’ Alas, it was true and there was little point hiding such a matter. However, what I had yet to identify was the sum of confidence of which they believed that the girls were present in the house.

‘Perhaps so,’ I dryly replied, ‘but you are mistaken to draw your tomfoolery here. The L/N sisters are elsewhere.’

‘Oh, really? Then you shall let us look?’ he interrogated, stepping a few paces closer to me. I nodded sharply and began to strategize. Unfortunately, I was not fully aware of where Y/N had taken Emily. It could easily have been anywhere in the house. Despite this, I knew I needed to be committed; something within me twisted together the impetuous idea that they were very close by. They were downstairs? Perhaps it was true, perhaps Y/N’s curiosity – her eagerness to fight – had led her towards the action rather than to safety. In that case, I would have to draw the men upstairs.

‘Why don’t you start your search through there?’ I advised, directing the men in the direction of the parlour. Whilst the second man – Spencer – began to move to follow my command, Solomon held him back and smiled, exposing his wretched grin.

‘No no, I think… Yes, I think we should start our search upstairs,’ Solomon elected, thinking most conceitedly to himself that he had outwitted the President of the United States of America. But – clearly – he had fallen into my devious trap. What a pitiful specimen. Regrettably, he remained to speak with me, sending his associate to explore the upstairs. ‘Do chant your prayers to God, for we will find the witches,’ he reiterated, causing me to chuckle.

‘No,’ I crackled, ‘no you most certainly won’t.’ I placed my hand to my face to collect together the dishonest laughter before catching a fabricated tear in my eye.

‘You find this funny–?’

‘Very much so,’ I lied, before trailing off into more false chuckles. ‘Did they really tell you that the girls were here?’

‘Well, they are!’ he growled, a gleam of uncertainty in his tiny, dishonest eyes.

‘They were here; I had them sent to a safe house in Pennsylvania, you gollumpus!’ Regularly, I would have refrained from insulting someone who had such power over my integrity; however, I continued before he could put a word in. ‘Though–’ I trailed off, grabbing a scrap of paper and scribbling an address onto it. ‘It would be in everyone’s favour if they were removed from the picture so,’ I presented the slip to him and smirked suspiciously, ‘you’ll find the “witches” here.’ His eyes lit up for just a moment, as if a spark had failed to catch, before he scowled at me.

‘I don’t believe for a second that you – who was harbouring these wicked beasts – would be inclined to tell us where we could find them.’ I knew in an instant that all that remained was the need to reinforce his glimmer of hope and my work would be done.

‘Oh, but you don’t know the things they did to my family!’ I divulged, hoping dearly that Y/N or Emily would not overhear. ‘They made my pudding rotten…they slashed a scar into my torso…they even once attempted to bring a plague upon the entire household! Is it not fair that I’d want them gone?’

‘Then you could have slayed them?’ he suggested, enthusiasm escaping from his soul, and I could see in his heartless eyes that he was beginning to believe the tale I was telling.

‘I would have…but I promised Alexander Hamilton that I would protect them.’ Quickly, I shoved the scrap of paper into his hand. ‘Perhaps you could.’ And with that, I knew that he was in.

‘Sir,’ he answered, straightening his back, ‘it would be my honour.’ I nodded to him with a smile and a chuckle and began to send him on his way out of the door. ‘SPENCER!’ he yelled, the house shaking under its power, ‘WE’RE LEAVING!’ I heard an immediate rush from the top of the stairs. The loyal face of Spencer emerged momentarily, and he dashed down to his master. However – in a spark of genius – I stopped him.

‘Spencer, was it?’ I inquired.

‘Spencer Griffiths, sir,’ he replied simply, with a nervous smile. I grabbed another scrap of paper and scribbled a second address into it.

‘Now…I need you to persuade your group to go here,’ I ordered. ‘This is where the girls actually are: an estate in Massachusetts where one of my good friends lives. If you want to kill those fiends, you’ll have to persuade your group to go there.’

‘You honest, Sir?’

‘Of course! But you must keep this from Solomon at all costs; I fear that he’s a witch himself,’ I conspired, testing his competence, faking a worried look onto my face.

‘A witch?!’ he questioned fearfully, dread filling his simple expression. His eyes darted from side to side as if the entire world was suddenly against him. I almost felt sorry that I had just placed a heavy burden onto him until I imagined the terrified faces of Y/N and Emily. He had it coming.

‘Indeed,’ I responded. ‘Now, quick!’ I ushered him to leave.

‘Thank you, Sir!’ he responded as he quickly hurried back to the remainder of the mob. I shut the door and pressed my back against it. I took in a great breath and began to laugh.

‘What gullible idiots.’