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Since he could not use this sigil for the Phantom’s correspondence, he’d ordered a new one custom-made: a rendition of a flower with delicate, drooping petals and no leaves.

The flora grew so deep in the woodlands that the blossoms were nearly impossible to spot.

His cousin, Hugh, an amateur botanist, had discovered it growing in the dense forests of their homeland’s eastern coastline, disguised against tree trunks.

The Ghost Orchid. Elusive but real, like the Hidden Realm itself—a Phantom in every sense and a perfect symbol for clandestine adventures. And so the flower became the Benevolent Phantom’s seal.

He paused, staring at the orchid.

Being an orc after Albion’s own heart, Hugh longed to explore the world beyond his family’s lucrative mining company. He was given to travel to study plant life in England and the Continent, including France, Chamberly’s westerly neighbor.

Duncan had always grumbled about their cousin’s recklessness. Nevertheless, Hugh knew the sea routes between the Hidden Realm and Europe well, and excelled at skirting past the watchful eyes of custom-house officers.

Albion bent over the secretary, setting to work on a brief missive.

“Commit this to memory before I finalize its transport,” Albion told the Langley brothers, the nib of his pen scratching the paper as he spoke. “We must also deliver a message to Jacques in Chamberly to ensure he waits in readiness.”

“But, my lord!” Edward replied. “How? After our last expedition, the Duke of Rostin doubled the guards around the city’s gates.”

“A resourceful fellow near Chamberly shall see to it. The French have no love for the Duke of Rostin.”

“Such a person might get a note inside, but I don’t comprehend how we will sneak Jacques out.”

“I have a route in mind. Circuitous, but feasible. It may delay the boy’s reunion with his mother and siblings but shall be safer all in all.”

“We’ve every faith in your ability to navigate even the most complex circumstances,” William said.

He had always been the more agreeable brother.

His wife, Emmanuelle, had herself been rescued from Paris as a small child during the height of the Jacobin Reign of Terror.

Her husband now made it a point of honor to dedicate himself to similarly daring rescues, a mission aided by his fluency in French, the tongue of most of Chamberly’s inhabitants.

“Isn’t that so, Eddie?” William jabbed his brother with his elbow.

Stubborn Edward was not so easily persuaded. Albion knew the young pup to be brave. At times, however, he seemed uncomfortable taking directions from a Lord of the Hidden Realm. “With no knowledge of your family, how can I know you shall remain true to your word?”

Albion paused, the quill pen hovering over the parchment.

“Eddie!” William exclaimed. “You have pledged your loyalty to Lord Albion!”

“Not unquestioning loyalty. That was part of the agreement, was it not? You told us you encourage inquiries.”

“That I do,” Albion said, fists clenching and the tips of his claws extending as they were prone to when angered. “Inquiries related to logistics and stratagem. I did not expect questions regarding my family or my honor. Had you taken the chance to know me better, you would harbor no such doubts.”

“My apologies for the offense given.” Edward lowered his head deferentially, but Albion didn’t think he had assuaged his concerns. “So, what is the plan?”

“I propose we take Jacques out of Chamberly indirectly. By way of the Hidden Realm.”

“How so?” Edward said. "I’ve not traveled to the Hidden Realm.”

Few humans had been there. The Prince Regent’s father, King George, was the first to do so, finding the emissaries from this new land a welcome distraction from the recent loss of the English colonies across the ocean.

Then madness had struck the poor man, and a pair of ambassadors had followed up on the king’s pledges for peace and trade between their two worlds.

Only diplomats with proven discretion in dealing with foreign courts visited the orcs in their land and under a veil of strict confidentiality.

That was all. That was how orcs preferred it. As little contact as possible. They had survived threats from Rome and even the raids of the Vikings in such a manner.

“But I am given to understand the roads are rough and unreliable,” Edward continued.

“What are you trying to say, Eddie?” William asked.

“Wouldn’t it be best to deliver the missive in person to ensure it meets its mark?”

Albion tried not to smile and failed.

“Is that humorous?”

“I allow it is not,” he said. “Only I can’t imagine the bureaucratic nightmare of getting you into the Hidden Realm.”

“Your brother might help,” Edward replied. “The Duke of Barrington.”

Albion nodded, thinking, He had always felt out of sorts that his mother knew, and Duncan did not, but Edward raised another pertinent point.

Given the speed and efficiency of the newest post chaise and fours, one could journey from London to the north of England in several days, even allowing for dining and rest.

But the roads that led directly to the Hidden Realm were intentionally dodgy, laid before Orcan leaders befriended their English neighbors.

“Unless His Grace doesn’t know you’re the Benevolent Phantom,” Edward said.

“Nor does Duncan need to know,” Albion replied. “For his own good. But he can ensure this letter reaches Hugh forthwith. His name carries with it great sway in the Hidden Realm.”

In enlisting his cousin’s help and that of his brother, he had something to offer besides money.

Something that these Englishmen did not.

Which was a relief. Albion stood out in London.

He hid in plain sight, as it were, to attend to strategy and funding.

He could not conceal his Orcan self and so dared not risk the dangerous runs past the mercenary forces guarding the souls stranded in Chamberly.

“You needn’t worry.” He reached for the wax stick he kept among the other writing implements to seal the letter with his unique imprint. “I shall ensure this reaches my Cousin Hugh. And the Comtesse will soon reunite with her son.”