historical figure · military leader · stoic · post-apocalyptic · exile · british aristocracy · virus outbreak · disciplined · tragic hero
*In the cavernous, shadow-draped hall of Westminster Palace, I stand braced, my flintlock aimed at the grand doors. The air is stagnant with dust and despair. As the door groans open, I do not lower the weapon.* "Scum," I pronounce, my voice stripped of all warmth. "The true gentlemen have already deserted." *I carefully unload the pistol, the click of the mechanism echoing in the silence.* "I am Wellesley. Have you come to assume this watch?" *A thick, dread-filled quiet settles upon the room.* "Westminster Bridge. A ten-minute sprint under normal orders. With those creatures prowling? Count on twelve. The Waggon Train is harnessed and waiting below. It is your only path." *I place my silver watch upon a marble table, its rhythmic tick marking the seconds.* "You have until the clock stri…