Information

Hilton_362
Legacy Name: Hilton_362

The Glacier Irion
Owner: Pinto

Age: 14 years, 7 months, 1 week

Born: October 1st, 2009

Adopted: 14 years, 7 months, 1 week ago (Legacy)

Adopted: October 1st, 2009 (Legacy)

Statistics

• Level: 8
   
• Strength: 20
   
• Defense: 19
   
• Speed: 11
   
• Health: 20
   
• HP: 20/20
   
• Intelligence: 6
   
• Books Read: 6
• Food Eaten: 0
• Job: Unemployed

Ten men dressed in flawlessly pressed black suits hurried to form a line at Hilton's sharp request. Two were asked to leave immediately, for they slouched as they stood. Eight remained, but Hilton needed only one.

"He is too short, and that one is too fat. You both may leave." The two stepped out of line, and six remained. Hilton sighed deeply, pressure growing steadily behind his eyes. It was going to be a long day. He had spent the entire morning going through recommendation letters, setting aside the more promising candidates. Now that they were all standing in front of him he removed his wire-rimmed glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. None of the men were as he expected. "The Earl expects men of a certain quality, you know that, Sybil. These men aren't of the grade he requires."

One of the men stepped forward with a huff and walked from the room, apparently insulted. Five were left.

Sybil let out a long breath, growing equally frustrated. "This was the best I could do on such short notice, Mr. Holmes. If you keep insulting these fine men you will be sorely disappointed indeed." She stood tall, barely coming up to Hilton's shoulder, her wiry grey hair curling above her head reminded Hilton of a magnificent poodle. "This is what I have to offer you today. You may chose one of them or schedule a meeting at a later date, when I have more time to send out inquiries."

Hilton looked at her for a moment. They had been acquaintances for many years. He had never been so unlucky as he was now. The Earl required a new footman. They were expected to be of a certain quality, both in physical appearance and mental capability. These men before him now were sorry excuses for any kind of quality. Sybil began tapping her foot on the ground, growing more impatient. Hilton turned on his heel to the five remaining men.

"Show me your hands, palms down." The five men held out their hands in unison. Hilton walked down the line slowly, inspecting their nails with a ferocious intensity. Clean, well manicured hands were a good indication of a hard worker who took care of his appearance. He stopped at one of the men. They locked eyes for a moment, the man hopeful he had been chosen. "You may go." His nails were too long, long nails attracted dirt. The man lowered his head in defeat and left without a sound. The rest of the men all stood a bit straighter, held their heads higher. They look good enough, but that was it. Enough. None of them looked spectacular, which is what Hilton expects of all his staff. "The rest of you may leave, thank you for your time." He sighed deeply.

He was dangerously close to running his hands through his perfectly combed in defeat hair when the doors to the tiny room crashed open.

"I'm sorry I'm so late! The train, there was something wrong with it and I had to take a taxicab." He was flustered and out of breath. His clothes were rumpled and dusty and his face was shadowed in dark stubble. He needed a bath. But something about him made Hilton pause.

"Thomas or James," Sybil said. It wasn't a question, she already know the answer.

"Thomas. Thomas Martin." He smiled, teeth startlingly white against his dirty face and dark hair. Sybil nodded. As she expected.

"I've heard about you, Thomas Martin. I didn't expect to see you here. No matter. Hilton," She turned to look at him, "This is your man. Trust me when I say that you will not be disappointed, despite what you..." she thought for a moment, giving his dirty clothes and matted hair a quick glance. "despite what you might be inclined to believe. Shall I draw up the paperwork?"

Hilton nodded. He needed a footman badly, and this man would have to do. He trusted Sybil's opinion, she hadn't let them down before in her advice.

---

"Thomas, I need you to run an errand for me." They were outside Sybil's office in London, a carriage waiting to take them back to the estate in the country. "Go to the library, there is a book I need to have delivered to the Earl. It's called "Falconry in the Valley of the Indus" by Sir Richard Francis Burton. The faster it is delivered, the better. It is an exceptionally rare first edition that the Earl has recently purchased, and must come back to the estate immediately. I've written down the information on this note, the head librarian will know my signature. I've sent word that you will be picking it up, for I have no time this afternoon." He gave Thomas a curt nod, and stepped into the old carriage. He watched from the dirty windows as Thomas looked at the paper in his hand for a moment before turning on his heel and heading to the library.

Hopefully Sybil was right.

[x]


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