"I don't think you're allowed to smoke on a train," Captain Asher said.

They were on a train to Birmingham, a cacophony of hisses and squealing disturbing the peace of the morning. The blonde morning light entered through the windows, spilling its warm essence on the red seats of the train.

"We're in the VIP section," Robert said, lighting up his cigar. "Besides, this is good tobacco. Fifteen pounds per cigar."

"Bloody hell, that's a lot for a cigar," Captain Asher replied and held unto his teacup.

Robert reclined in his seat and crossed his leg over the other. He drew in the burnt tobacco and released it, the nicotine calming his nerves. Yesterday was a bloody disaster. A small part of him had hoped that confronting his father would make him change the way he treated him. It was quite the opposite. This time, his father told him explicitly that he didn't think he'll ever be good enough.

What could he have ever done? There was nothing that Robert could think of.

"Have you been getting enough sleep?" Captain Asher asked and sipped from his tea.

Robert sighed and glanced around the train. Men and women in fine clothes spoke to each other and sat with their backs straight with elegance. He doubted he would ever be that vibrant again. Maybe when he saved Ella and got back his metal, things would be different.

"I've been having bad dreams, Captain," Robert said. "Very bad dreams."

Concerned, Captain Asher settled his teacup on the red table that separated them. "What are they about?"

"I always see Howard and Ella. They always keep asking me why I called the police."

Captain Asher connected his brows in confusion. "What do they mean?"

"Do you remember how I convinced you all to allow the police to come with us?"

"Aye."

"Well, I did that out of my selfish reasons. I wanted to capture Gerrard so badly because with him out of the picture, I could finally make my moon lamp."

"Well, I wouldn't call that selfish."

Robert smoked his cigar. "But it is. Do you know the reason I was willing to go this far just to make the moon lamp?"

"You never told me."

"My father has always been distant and cold to me since I was a child. It made me feel I wasn't good enough for him. So I thought if I made the moon lamp," Robert sighed, "just maybe, he would see how good of a son I was and love me."

Captain Asher gazed at him with no expression in his brown eyes. What was he expecting the Captain to do? Roll on the floor and cry for him? This was his cross to carry. He didn't know why he had to bother the Captain with it. But with all that pain on his shoulders, he had to weigh them down by discussing his issue with someone.

"Blimey, I didn't know." Captain Asher shook his head in pity. "I always wondered why you were so determined to find my children. I never knew how important the moon lamp was to you."

It was the most important thing in his existence. Now, he was sure it was again. His father didn't want him. There was no need for Robert to be sad. He should see this as an opportunity to find something new to do with his life. Which was why he was going to save Ella and get back his metal. And when he was done making the noon lamp, his father would regret saying those words he said yesterday.

"Have you spoken to him about it?" Captain Asher asked.

"I did."

"And?"

"Let's just say the Duke wished he had a different son."

"Oh dear, poor you," Captain Asher tsked, regarding Robert over steepled fingers. "I know this may hurt to hear. But at times, people don't reciprocate how you feel towards them. All you have to do is to move on and don't let it consume you."

"You're right Captain," Robert said, pointing his cigar at him. "I should forget about my father. I have you, Ella, my sister and my mother. I don't need his validation."

"That's the spirit, lad."

********

Robert and Captain Asher exited the train that ran along the London-Birmingham railway. Birmingham was called the black country for a reason. Thick plumes of smoke filled the air and the floor was covered with ash. They weaved through the crowd outside the train station.

"Captain," A man said waving at them. He was scrawny looking and had big eyes, his shirt too big for him. There was something about him that Robert didn't like. He just couldn't put his finger on it.

"Sergeant James," Captain Asher said, shaking the man's hand with a firm handshake. "Sergeant James this is Lord Robert Stark. Your Lordship, Sergeant James is the spy I told you about."

"How are you doing, Sir?" Robert asked shaking him.

He shook him back. "I'm doing fine, Your Lordship."

"We need somewhere we could sit down and speak comfortably," Captain Asher said.

"That's no problem. I know a bar not too far from here."

They entered the town, back-to-back houses lining both sides of the road. Carriages rolled past them, a throng of people at every corner. Robert lit his cigar and narrowed his eyes at the Birmingham town hall. He had read about it in books but this was the first time he saw it. It had beautiful tall columns holding its white portico.

"Here we are," Sergeant James said, opening the door of a small building by the corner of the room. Robert felt eyes on them but shoved the thought away. People were probably looking at his Savile Rowe Frock coat. It wasn't his fault that Ella had good taste.

The bar had an auburn-coloured counter and brown stools facing it. Behind it was a female bartender covered with a green apron, her afro curls packed up. She had beautiful black skin and Robert couldn't help but stare.

"That's Annie," Sergeant James said, patting Robert in the back. "Most of the men here have a big crush on her."

Robert scanned the room. Men with pot bellies and dirty clothes sat at the other side of the room around circular tables. Their breath stunk any time they belched and Robert thanked God for his cigar. It was better he took in bloody tobacco than that bloody smell.

"You can get with her if you want. You have the looks," The Seargent added.

As much as Robert appreciated the compliment, adding another woman to the amount he slept with while Ella was away was dangerous. She would skin him alive if she even heard about it. Still, he planned to tell her what he did once he got to find her.

"I have someone else, Sergeant. A woman I love," Robert said, sitting on a stool alongside the Captain and Sergeant James.

Annie walked up to them with a beautiful smile on her face. Her cheeks turned red when she saw Robert looking at her.

Bring yourself to order, Robert.

Ella would skin you alive.

"What would you like?" She asked Robert.

"Whiskey." He said, popping out smoke. "Irish."

"What about you two?" She asked the two other men.

"We'll get the same," Captain Asher said.

While she went away to get their order, Sergeant James began talking.

"I saw Gerrard at this part of Birmingham buying some ammunition from the Peaky Blinders ."

"Aren't they the gang who have razors sewn into their caps?" Robert asked.

"Aye, Stephen McHickie is their boss."

Annie came back with their orders, sliding the cups of Irish whiskey to them. As Captain Asher was about to chug down on his drink, Robert held his hand and looked grimly at Sergeant James.

"Drink first, Sergeant." Robert gestured for him to go ahead with his head.

Sergeant James laughed. "Why?"

"Because I saw you lock eyes with Annie while she was mixing our drink." Sergeant James funny demeanour switched quickly to a flabbergasted one. Robert smiled at Annie. "What did you put in these drinks, Annie?"

"I-I didn't add anything," Annie stuttered, cleaning a glass cup with a white cloth.

Robert moved his drink over to her. "Why don't you drink mine too?"

When Captain Asher understood what was truly going on, he asked Sergeant James to drink from his cup, but he refused. Annie was still hesitant to take Robert's glass of whiskey. He knew he saw her slipping something into their drinks after she locked eyes with Sergeant James. They were both planning something.

"Go on, Annie, drink from the cup," Robert prodded.

She shook her head. The chairs creaked and Robert turned. Every man in the room stood up and was holding batons in their hands. Sergeant James led them to a trap. He knew something about him was off the moment he set eyes on him.

"Sergeant James, you fucking cunt," Robert said, burning his cigar in his ashtray. He picked up his glass cup and lunged it at Sergeant James's face, the man letting out a loud cry as the glass tore his face to bits. Robert and the Captain took their stance, ready to attack the men with batons. "We've seen worse, haven't we,

Captain?"

"Aye."

"Then let's beat the shite out of these bootlickers ."

Robert smashed a stool, breaking out two wooden legs. He tossed one to the captain before he advanced to the drunkards who thought they stood a chance against him. One with a bulbous nose advanced. Robert ducked, avoiding his swing. With his right hand, he did a backhand hit on the man's head, sending him to the floor.

While Robert was busy pummeling another bloody wanker, he could hear cries erupting through the ceiling of the bar. Captain Asher must've been dealing with them.

"You want to beat me, aye?" Robert asked another drunkard with ginger hair, his veined hands on the man's dirty collar. The Marquess nudged the man's nuts with his knee and tossed him away.

"Stop! Both of you!" Robert froze on the spot and turned to see Annie aiming a shotgun at him. Occasionally she'll shift her aim to the Captain who had his hands raised. "If any of you move I'll shoot."

The door of the bar creaked open and someone walked in.

"Good job, Annie," Gerrard said walking deeper into the bar. He tossed her a bundle of cash and she caught it. Behind him, two large men emerged, rifles in their hands. He locked eyes with Robert and smirked. "Hello again, Your Lordship."

Fuck.