England 1870, Southwark London

The night air of London was cold and cut through a man like a knife through hot butter. Timber Spruce shivered and pulled his frock coat close around his frame. The cobblestoned streets of Southwark were covered by light snow while gas lamps kept the darkness at bay. Grunting a curse at the cold, the young factory manager stepped aside to let the last of his employees out of the factory. A strapping young lad, Bulk Biceps strong as an ox if somewhat dim witted in Timber’s opinion smiled at him.

“Till tomorrow Sir,” Bulk donned a flat cap and tipped it in a goodbye. Timber donned his own top hat and tipped in return. Bulk huddled into his sack coat and walked away, Timber turned to lock the door to the factory. Reaching for his keys, a loud bang resonated from inside. The sound made Timber jump and take a step back from the door. Frowning, the young man opened the door and stepped inside into the darkened factory. The light of the moonlight filtered through the ceiling windows. The machinery inside the factory casted long ominous shadows, they now lay dormant after a full day of work. Timber sighed and pressed his hands against the adjacent cold wall to his right. He felt for the large lever that turned on the factory lights. His hands found the wooden grip and he flipped the switch down. A loud clank echoed inside, followed by a low buzzing sound that faded as light flooded the factory floor.

Outside about two blocks away Bulk shivered as a particularly harsh wind knocked his cap off his head. He turned to pick it up when he noticed the factory lights were on. Bulk picked his cap off the floor and wiped the snow away, all the while staring at the factory. In the darkness of the night with only the moon and street lamps illuminating the world. It looked like beacon beckoning him back. He knew the lights shouldn’t be on, he had worked there long enough to now the factory should be well and closed. With a curious hum, he walked back to his place of work.

Timber Spruce gasped, inside the storage house behind the factory the lights were on. The huge sliding doors leading inside were opened slightly. He wondered closer to gaze through the space between the doors. His eyes widen five figures between two racks of crates, Timber noted they wore cloaks that obscured them utterly from his vision. As well they had their backs to him, though he could make out towards the left of them an open crate. While at the center there was a fifth collapsed figure. The collapsed person reached out with a white gloved hand now coated red. One of the cloaked figures produced a revolver and aimed down at the collapsed figure.

“Madness” the figure groaned out loud enough for Timber to hear.

“Roma Invicta.” The armed assailant pulled back on the guns hammer with his thumb and fired. Timber gasped and fell back on his behind. His keys clattering from his coat pocket onto the floor. The young manager flinched and looked back to the figures. They had all turned to stare at the opening. Two black gloved hands grabbed the left door. The railings the door was built in screeched horribly, like a wailing animal in Timbers ears. A seventh man apparently unseen before stepped before Timber through wide open door. He wore all black with just the white of his shirt to contrast his clothing. Timber recognized him, he knew this man.

“Silence him,” the man with the gun calmly began walking towards Timber. Timber scrambled to his feet while the man in black reached into his frock coat. Timber ran opposite of the storehouse and turned left behind a machine. His top hat bobbed off his head, but he paid it no heed and climbed the first flight of stairs before him. The stairs stopped at platform before another set to the left of them to keep ascending up. Timber turned in time to see the man in black turned the corner and run after him. Quickly Timber climbed the steps two at a time and ran up the hanging walkway. Timber knew his pursuer the man’s name escaped him while he was riddled with fear, but he knew his name. Timber just had to get away get outside and call for help!

He turned left on the walkway to the offices. He headed inside and turned right where another walkway awaited him and led to the front factory door. He ran partly through the walkway when he saw two of the mysterious men were there to head him off. He back paddled quickly and ran back into the office. just ahead was another walkway that led to the factory balcony. The man in black entered where Timber originally came through, he raised his arm pointed at Timber. The young manager ducked knowing without a doubt he would be shot. He ran through the door frame onto the walkway. His footfalls clanged against the metal much like his heart beat against his ribcage. He burst through the door into the cold chilling his slightly sweaty forehead. Timber skidded to a stop and leaned on the railing. He was trapped, he shivered feeling his heart drop to his stomach in sheer terror.

Timber moved to the far right of the balcony and looked down below. The fall might not kill him, but his legs would surely break, he was two stories high and no a soul was outside. the young manager gasped for air and turned back, the man in black was standing just beyond the door. His framed heaved as he caught his breath much like Timber himself. Timber leaned back bracing against the railing, the metal old and, rusted groaned in protest. His pursuer walked closer and Timber felt tears prickle at his eyes. He reached to his inner frock coat pocket, the man in black froze and did the same. He kept his hand inside his coat when Timber produced a locket instead of a weapon. The young man opened the locket to a picture of a young woman. Timber kissed the pictured and closed the locket grasping it tightly with both hands. He looked towards the man in black and took a deep breath. Timber nodded once, the man in black retrieved his hand from his coat and stood before Timber. Taking a step back the man lifted his foot and delivered a kick right on Timbers chest. He flew back the railing snapping from the force sending him down towards the floor. No scream escaped him the kick having taken air out of his lungs. Timber hit the floor back of his head first with a loud thud. The man in black looked over the broken railing and quickly turned away, his job was done.

When Bulk was halfway through the factory the lights just turned off. He lifted his cap and scratched his short-cropped hair. He figured Mister Spruce might still be there, so curious to find out why he was still there, Bulk walked towards the factory. When he arrived, he tried the front door and it was closed. He moved around the left of the building to the yard next to it. Bulk walked through to find a collapsed figure. The light from the street lamps barely illuminated the area. Bulk squinted through the poor lighting and stepped near the body. He heard a splash, like he had stepped in water. Crouching down Bulk peered closer at the ground, his eyes widen and he felt his heart skip a beat. He stood up quickly staggering back and falling on his behind. He quickly rubbed his foot against the cobblestone floor trying to wipe it clean. He stepped on blood, Bulk put a hand to his chest to calm his frenzied heart. Taking deep breaths, he stood again and looked at the fallen man. Bulk covered his mouth, with eyes wide and unblinking, Mister Spruce lay dead staring at the moonlit night.

“The bobbies, I- police!” Bulk stood and ran out into the streets, he shouted at the top of his lungs running down the streets.

“Police! Police!” Bulk ran as far as his previous location, in his luck a cart pulled up with two bobbies on it. “Murder! Sirs murder at the factory!” Bulk ran to the bobbies, they halted their cart and tried calming down the frightened man.

“Sirs Murder, Mister Spruce has been murdered!” The night was cold on November 22, 1870 in Southwark London the murder of Timber Spruce had just occurred.

Author's Note

hello my fellow pony fans! I decided to write a story set in Victorian London. Or I guess Celestian London, lol. Seeing as the era was named after Queen Victoria in real life. But I have quickly fallen in love with this time period and started thinking of an idea. So this story began taking shape, so I hope you can follow me through this journey of mystery and romance, to uncover the murder of Timber Spruce!