Spiritual Successor

[J. Alfred Darrow]

14 October 1887.

Alfred had decided he was leaving two days ago, but having made the decision did not make the execution any easier. In order to mount an expedition even half the size of the Sycorax voyage, he'd need a significant amount of capital, which he didn't have--and perhaps more importantly, he'd need ships. The fleet that he'd left being had been largely mothballed since it had come under control of the Podmores, and certainly wasn't in the best condition to be setting out on a trip of this magnitude. He couldn't fathom the idea of using some hired ships for something like this, though--whatever condition they'd been allowed to fall in to, these were the Captain's ships. Alfred had come to see this upcoming expedition as a sort of continuation of the Captain's dream; he couldn't use someone else's ships.

That posed a significant problem for him, though, given that the deeds for all the ships rested with the Podmores, who wanted, at least as far as he could tell, nothing to do with the Navy. Alfred didn't know anything about inheritance laws, or how they'd managed to come into possession of the fleet in the first place, but it just seemed wrong. He'd been at Captain Peppersmith's side when he'd died; had the Podmores even ever met him? They couldn't be the rightful owners of those ships.

He'd made an appointment with the solicitor before he'd even spoken to Paul, and had been ruminating over what he needed to say ever since. He'd arrived early and had managed, so far, not to nervously undo any of the buttons on his uncomfortably restrictive clothing. He was rather nervous, though--what if he appeal to this man and then ended up being told there was nothing he could do except raise enough money to try and buy the ships? He didn't have that kind of funding--and he certainly couldn't afford to buy the ships, refurbish them, and then stock them for an expedition of several months.

"Thank you for seeing me," he said when he was shown into the man's office. "I'm, er, not... entirely sure how to begin," he admitted. Alfred had never before had to see a solicitor about anything. Was there a protocol for this?

@'John Smith' @'Odira Potter'

  

[John Smith]

“Generally I find that once men start talking, what they mean to say comes naturally,” John offered helpfully. “Are you here for a personal matter, or a business one?”

It was true—often the solicitor served as an ersatz therapist for his clients who had a great deal to get off their chests. In such instances, the matter was almost always personal, and in such instances, John almost always wished he could be elsewhere. Still, an appointment was an appointment, and John Smith had never yet broken one.