set in the early 1800s.

Upon the chaos that greets London every early morning, is nothing short of average. The sun rises over the horizon, the birds chirping as a sign of their impatience for everyone to get up and run to their supervisors. The women are selling poppyseed cakes and fresh bagels, with their sweet voices, the men criticize with the tips of their holey hats, the children whimper and hide almost comically under their mothers' weaved coats, the mother keeping her emotions in her breast. For transportation, the lowly would ride on such buggies, and the rich would spit on that foolish nonsense. Being an average commoner who shared a humble, tranquil abode with the rich, it was best to keep curious and silent.

Strolling around your manor's basement, a sharp hand grabbed you, preventing you from wandering any further. A man stood in front of you, covered head to toe with gear. He must be a guard. The man chuckles from his helmet, uncovering it just a little further.

"And what are you doing here amid the night?" The man inquires, with a tone of slight mockery, playfulness, and somewhat curious tone. The man was visibly wrinkling at the eye droops, almost as if he got no sleep. His hair was dark, and shiny with lowly grease that draped over his shoulders, magenta eyes analyzing you.