Prologue: The Roar of Cannon.
Dylan Sheller sat in a dark corner of the coffee shop, sipping a cup of tea. Some wondered how
he could refuse alcohol at all. But he did. He always sat here, and merely watched the other men.
They were so careless, they said things they shouldn’t, did what they shouldn’t. That was what
alcohol did to you, he reasoned. Still it was interesting what they had to say. Lloyd’s was like
that. You could hear all the rumors, every thing...
A man at a table next to his had something interesting to say. “I hear the Dutch left their port a
few days ago. Sounds like there’s going to be a big battle in the Channel. Like they’d win against
England’s navy!”
Another man nearby said, “That’s right. They’ll lose, for sure. Howe’s got over a hundred ships
to their ninety. It’s obvious-.” A crash interrupted his statement. Everyone perked up. Fights
weren’t as common as in some establishments, but they could happen. But no one was up.
Another crash. Dylan realized suddenly, “It’s coming from outside!”
The people inside surged out, well, most of them. Dylan was at the head of the crowd and looked
around. Nothing, not out on the street. A whistling sound, and another crash. Several of those. It
was very definite, for all of London had gone still. Dylan spotted some smoke over in the
direction of Westminster. As he watched, horrified, the Tower of London crumbled before his
eyes. Buckingham Palace was on fire. He looked over at the Thames. Just barely, he could see
the top of a ship, cannons... cannons bellowing?
His eyes flicked to the flag. Red, White, Blue... “The Dutch! What the devil has Howe been
doing!? The Dutch are shelling London!” Out of the corner of his eyes, burgundy coated soldiers
came on little transports to the shore. “My god, my god! The Dutch are invading England!”
Dylan Sheller sat in a dark corner of the coffee shop, sipping a cup of tea. Some wondered how
he could refuse alcohol at all. But he did. He always sat here, and merely watched the other men.
They were so careless, they said things they shouldn’t, did what they shouldn’t. That was what
alcohol did to you, he reasoned. Still it was interesting what they had to say. Lloyd’s was like
that. You could hear all the rumors, every thing...
A man at a table next to his had something interesting to say. “I hear the Dutch left their port a
few days ago. Sounds like there’s going to be a big battle in the Channel. Like they’d win against
England’s navy!”
Another man nearby said, “That’s right. They’ll lose, for sure. Howe’s got over a hundred ships
to their ninety. It’s obvious-.” A crash interrupted his statement. Everyone perked up. Fights
weren’t as common as in some establishments, but they could happen. But no one was up.
Another crash. Dylan realized suddenly, “It’s coming from outside!”
The people inside surged out, well, most of them. Dylan was at the head of the crowd and looked
around. Nothing, not out on the street. A whistling sound, and another crash. Several of those. It
was very definite, for all of London had gone still. Dylan spotted some smoke over in the
direction of Westminster. As he watched, horrified, the Tower of London crumbled before his
eyes. Buckingham Palace was on fire. He looked over at the Thames. Just barely, he could see
the top of a ship, cannons... cannons bellowing?
His eyes flicked to the flag. Red, White, Blue... “The Dutch! What the devil has Howe been
doing!? The Dutch are shelling London!” Out of the corner of his eyes, burgundy coated soldiers
came on little transports to the shore. “My god, my god! The Dutch are invading England!”
, yet strangely interesting.. 
