Late October 2008, Ravenscroft Manor, Kent, England
Victor Dubose proceeded through one of England's great houses at a smart pace, polished shoes clicking smartly on the ancient floorboards, ones that had been trodden by the feet of powerful men for easily six-hundred years. Walking down from the attic room he occupied, one he occupied by choice as he liked the remoteness and the views from the high window out onto the grounds, he adjusted his black tie and checked the buttons on his coat of tails.
His employer, the Earl of Ravenscroft, was not picky about appearance. A soldier by profession and by nearly twenty years of blood and toil, the Earl generally disliked having to wear suits and had managed to avoid doing so for over a decade. However, as a former manager of the Savoy Hotel prior to 'retiring' to the quiet post of estate manager and butler to His Lordship, Victor Dubose had certain standards that he kept to. That didn't mean that, despite his long absence from the army, that he didn't have a revolver tucked under his jacket. Working for such an employer as his meant that certain precautions had to be taken.
Arriving outside the first level of the basement of the residential wing of the manor, he made his way to one of the doors, leading to a fifty-yard firing range, surrounded with armoured walls capable of absorbing the impact of the fire from an thirty-millimetre autocannon. Rapping smartly on the door, Victor heard a brief halt in the rapid gunfire on the other side and let himself in.
It as a little unusual to hear gunfire as His Lordship had recently ploughed a great deal of effort into his magical skills, researching arcane battle magic, runes and enchantments, combat spells and magical duelling. Apparently though he'd gone back to the usual practice of burning through bullets.
Turning to face him, clad in the same desert camouflage clothes he'd practically lived in for nine years, a man of about thirty-five years old, with a shock of black hair and a jagged scar, albeit somewhat faded, down his sideburn to his jaw on his right cheek, the result of a horrific tear from a serrated bayonet in the Gulf. Harry grinned, dropping a magazine from his Colt M1911 pistol and loaded another in, racking the slide.
"You are aware that there is an R on the end of your surname, my Lord Potter?" asked Victor dryly after looking down the range to the canvas stretched across it and the patterns of bullet holes.
"Very droll." Harry rolled his eyes, swinging back around to the canvas and firing again until the pistol ran dry; "Satisfied."
"Greatly. However I'm certain you didn't summon me down here to demonstrate your, admittedly superb, skill with a pistol?" the butler asked.
"Problem is, I'm on enforced leave, apparently something to do with my not having taken more than a day off work each year since '01. And I've been told to hand over command of 22 SAS to someone else, which makes me suspect I'm going to be asked to take retirement." Harry stated, switching on the extractor fans to pull out the expended cordite gas; "I'm bored, because apart from sorting out my replacement for command of the SAS, I spend a few hours flying my Phantom and occasionally I practice my marksmanship, but not much else apart from spellwork, which can get tiring after a few hours. I guessed that, given you pretty much run the estate that you'd have some idea of something for me to do?"
"You don't usually take a great interest in the running of the estate..." commented Victor.
"Didn't honestly expect to survive my military career." Harry admitted; "I don't actually know a great deal about the estate except the quickest route from my bedroom to the quick reaction hangar and the jet I keep there for emergencies."
"Very well, may we adjourn to your study. There are more than a few things that could do with your input." Victor stated; "A large quantity of the estate has gone unused for many years."
Late October 2008, Master's Study, Ravenscroft Manor, Kent, England
"In the twenty years you've had me employed here, you've essentially given me free rein which is very welcome." said Victor, sitting down at Harry's desk as the retired colonel poured two glasses of whisky, placing one in front of him; "There have, however, been a number of things which could not happen without your input, or I simply don't have the manpower."
"Why didn't you say?" Harry asked.
"Your work, I felt, held greater importance. You were rarely in, and when you were, you locked yourself up in the operations room with your colleagues plotting how to keep Britain safe. I did not wish to interrupt that." Victor said tactfully, enjoying his lordship's good taste in alcohol.
"I honestly should have given you more time." replied Harry, running a hand through his hair.
"The past is the past." Victor closed the subject.
"Okay, inform me of what I've got." Harry ordered, sitting down.
"You have a fairly substantial estate. There is a river flowing out into the Medway which supplies us with water as you well know, it provides water for the moat, and at some point you sailed a destroyer up it and moored it to the house." Victor deadpanned.
"The most convenient place to put it." Harry claimed.
"Very well. The river flows down into the moat, and out of the far side of the moat. There's a series of watermills on it, they're usable for milling grain but at the moment the shafts of the mill-wheels are attached to electricity generators providing most of the power needed for the estate." explained Victor thoughtfully; "The wildlife there is quite plentiful. We have our own resident mute swans, some European freshwater otters while ducks and geese come and go. Fish include Atlantic Salmon and Brown Trout. The southern and eastern edges of the estate are heavily wooded, mainly oak and chestnut. You'll find a significant amount of deer, rabbit and wild boar. We cull them occasionally and freeze the meat for special occasions."
"Remind me to find some excuse to throw a big party." Harry commented.
"Indeed, it would be my pleasure. Due to both magical and non-magical methods, these groups of animals are not under threat so they are bountiful in number." stated Victor; "Now, we come to a problem that I was going to approach you on. This manor, once a castle as you know, was built in swampland to control the Dover to London roads, the London to Canterbury roads and the Dover to Rochester roads.
"A fairly good strategic position." Harry agreed.
"The problem is that, though the swamp was drained, we have some issues with the water table. During the eighteen-sixties a series of steam engines and water tanks were used to lower the water table, feeding off the water and collecting it in enchanted expanded tanks where it was purified for domestic use."
"What became of the pumps and the stored water?" asked Harry.
"They're still there, but the engines are mothballed. There are twenty boilers for the ten beam engines powering pumps would have to be opened up, the metal tubes inside inspected by a professional, possibly removed and replaced. It's something that I was intending on broaching with you this year." Victor admitted; "The whole thing is like the Crossness Pumping Station, very ornate inside as one would expect. We used what was left in the tanks back in '03 and the years after when we were under drought condition."
"When you've got time, get them working, I'd be interested to see." Harry ordered.
"I shall sir. The tanks are ten cubic feet, ten by ten by ten, but expanded permanently with magic at a ratio of three-hundred and twenty to one, so each tank, and there are ten, can hold two-million Imperial Gallons of water." Victor continued explaining; "It would be greatly useful to have the beam engines and their pumps in use once more before the water table builds up to critical level."
"We'd need some fairly industrial amounts of coal..." said Harry thoughtfully.
"Bring it in by rail. The railway from Dover Priory to Canterbury, Chatham, Rochester and London Victoria has a branch to the estate from near a station called Sole Street." Victor replied; "Now, if we can move on to what I would advise you to do?"
"Shoot." Harry said.
"We really shouldn't let you be around so many Americans." Victor muttered; "Yes, what we need to do fairly soon is to start up the steam boilers below the manor. We turn the water that has built up in the tanks into steam and the steam goes to a series of powerful industrial stationary steam engines, via turbines. The steam engines power their own turbines. Let's touch on employees for a moment."
"I don't honestly know who we've got..." Harry commented after a few seconds.
"Most of us are ex-forces." replied Victor; "About two dozen aviation engineers look after both the aircraft and the cars. A dozen cooks, three weapons technicians and a dozen old soldiers who simply look after the estate, undertaking the culls and occasionally cutting down a tree. There's also about a dozen tankies who look after your collection of old armour. We need to employ further people, our own technicians to maintain, restore and certify the steam equipment."
"Can the estate's finances afford it?" asked Harry.
"The estate has a finance account that has such a surplus, constantly being reinvested that a few years ago I expanded it northwest by about two miles and acquired a small village which had about a dozen residents. Built in about 1960, it's a nasty little place, dinky toy town. I didn't like it and have been intending for some time to get rid of it." Victor replied; "As such I've got planning permission to do so."
"Maybe we should get some of the armour out." Harry commented thoughtfully; "Send a memo to the tankies to get a couple of the Petard-equipped Churchills out and we'll clear that village."
"Very well sir. I believe that should keep you occupied for a few days. I shall look at employing the right people to get the boilers and stationary engines working. We already have a sufficient supply of coal." Victor agreed. "Do you wish to have a look at the industrial side of the estate?"
"I ought to." Harry nodded.
"Very well, if you'd follow me."
Walking down below ground level, leaving the varnished wood-clad walls of the manor, entering sandstone corridors, Harry passed the door that passed beneath the moat to the outer cellars, including the garage, tank park and the huge underground hangar with the lift up to the Rubb outside, where his aircraft were kept in good shape, passing the door to the undercroft with his Threat Planning Centre, and continuing down the corridor where he'd never ventured before.
Victor led him beneath the moat, out to one corner of the underground complex, producing a ring of keys as they halted where the corridor ran out and a studded wooden door blocked their path. Quickly picking out a key, he unlocked the door and swung it open. The difference between the honey-coloured and unadorned sandstone was marked. Cast iron pillars painted in bright colours, reds, blues, greens and golds, it was as if Augustus Pugin himself had been let loose with nary a thought to cost.
And there, sat in pairs in this temple to fire and water were the engines, twenty monstrous arcs formed of boilers clad in glazed fire bricks, and ten cylinders, with rods, wheels, cranks and beams forming the engines themselves.
"Sir, these are the engines powering the pumps which should refill the tanks fairly swiftly." Victor announced, his voice echoing off the hard surfaces; "One boiler per pump, with a second for redundancy should the first fail, the same for the pumps. These would take about a day at full power to fill the water tanks."
"And then it's used by the estate or pumped through turbines to further steam engines exclusively for use for power?" Harry asked.
"Essentially yes. The turbines are simply en-route to the power engines. Those engines use it to produce motion for generators which generate electricity." Victor stated; "Behind the iron doors in the walls behind each boiler is a chute to the coal bunkers, and they're sufficiently full that they wouldn't need refilling for some time. There are three engine rooms like this, though each serves a different purpose, this one pumps from the springs into the tanks, the second from the tanks to the third which generates electricity."
"And we can always hire a diesel to ship in more coal." Harry commented. "I'll call for Manxman to do a fast run to get a load of coal, she can easily carry a hundred-and-twenty five tons on her old mine deck."
"Why not simply use one of our own locomotives?" asked Victor, receiving a blank look in return; "Do you ever read the memos I send you?"
"No. Too busy sending them to somebody who has time to read them." responded Harry.
"I always wondered why they ended up on my desk a few hours after I sent them." sighed the butler; "Never mind, it isn't important right now. I'll fax you the location of that village that I assimilated into the estate, go and destroy it. I'll send in a clear-up team after you've knocked it down."
"My pleasure."
Harry grinned from the driving position of one of the Churchills as his loader slammed a 75mm shell into the breech with a loud, metallic clank. Stuffing the right control lever forward and drew the left one back, he spun the tank ninety degrees around as they exited up the ramp at the side of the manor.
Forming up alongside him were a pair of Churchill AVREs, accompanying his Churchill Crocodile, equipped with a powerful flame projector and a trailer full of what was basically napalm. Their objective was a fairly modern village built in the aftermath of WWII on the very edge of the estate, which Victor wanted destroyed. Harry was perfectly happy to agree to it as Victor had acquired the land on which the village sat and more beyond.
"Fifteen minutes at current speed." called the commander from the turret of the AVRE.
"Roger." Harry replied.
Twenty minutes was an awfully long time in the noise, limited-visibility environment of a tank's hull, with the vehicle rocking across what could only be described as 'agricultural' terrain. However, at about a mile-and-a-half, the Crocodile's 75mm gun belched smoke and fire. One of the houses visible to Harry suddenly streamed fire from shattered windows and one wall collapsed outwards.
"Shoot!"
Crump! Clank.
Another shell fired and the cartridge ejected out the back of the gun. The village was five minutes advance from their position, and Harry intended to take advantage of the fact that neither of the AVREs could employ their mortars yet.
"Traverse, target zero-one-one degrees." came the commander's voice over the intercom; "Shoot!"
Crump! Clank.
And the Ordnance QF 75mm fifteen-pounder could let off a shell every six seconds, every ten adjusting for re-aiming, which was good enough with eight-three rounds remaining. Pumping shells downrange into a target-rich environment, the Crocodile set about the small village, and found to Harry's disgust that the shells weren't as effective as he'd hoped. Despite being high-explosive, they were penetrating through walls without detonating.
"Cease fire." came the call from the commander.
Then moving up, from the hull of the tank, a stream of hellfire engulfed the house, the jet of burning petroleum from the flame projector swiftly engulfing the building. Another house nearly erupted as one tank simply slammed into it, emerging on the other side and stopping with a sudden jerk to dislodge the debris.
Late October 2008, Butler's Study, Ravenscroft Manor, Kent, England
Victor Dubose looked up as his boss poked his head around the door, looking awfully pleased with himself. Well, truly he looked utterly without emotion, as usual, but with the slightest hints of a smirk. That was the closest he got to strutting and preening.
"I finished off the job." he commented.
"I'm aware." Victor rolled his eyes; "A tank assault and how many air strikes?"
"One with three Phantoms, one carrying napalm, a second with general purpose bombs and a third finishing it off with rockets and shells." Harry replied. "It's good practice, plus I disposed of some ordnance that was near its use-by-date."
"I had to convince the police that there was no need for an investigation, that it was an MoD matter. Luckily the repeated explosions, the hundred-foot high sheets of flame, the gunfire and the pall of smoke convinced them." Victor sighed in exasperation; "Never mind, I'll send out some trucks and a combat engineering tractor to clear whatever is left up."
"Anything else needing doing?" asked Harry.
"Wait until tomorrow. I've asked the insurance company to send a boiler inspector." Victor waved him off.
"Whatever in expenses you're paying the inspector himself, add fifty percent to it." Harry ordered; "He'll keep his mouth shut about anything else he sees around here."
"Indeed, beyond the twenty steam boilers for the beam engines, I'm having him inspect ten Fowler Z7s." commented Victor.
"What?" frowned Harry, trying to think where he recognised the name from.
"Fowler built steam locomotives for the road. Those ones are particularly powerful and have been modified by your grandfather, they'll plough or seed at a good ten miles an hour." explained Victor; "It's still autumn. We get a crop of winter wheat down, then once that's planted and growing, set about putting a crop of barley down in the spring, harvest the wheat during the summer, and by then we'll have more capability for planting. We can plant barley during the spring, oats during summer, winter wheat and winter barley during the autumn...
"Besides barley can be used for beer." Harry agreed cheerfully. "Make a note to research the subject of beer brewing."
"Naturally sir." Victor rolled his eyes once again.
"Then again, why not just use a tractor?" asked Harry.
"Given the abundance of coal you intend to bring in, plus the cost of a new tractor being something around the same price as a Spitfire under restoration." Victor explained; "The costs don't add up, and I don't like diesels. And before you suggest it, not everything can be solved using a tank."
Harry made a rude gesture at him.
"One other thing, I assume you've come across, during your extensive military career, of the rumours of a strategic steam reserve?" commented Victor.
"What, a load of old steam engines packed away in a secret locations in case of a nuclear strike taking out anything with a computer chip?" replied Harry.
"The rumours are not completely false, but such a reserve is not held by the government, but this estate. It was usable until about nineteen-seventy. Ever since, the locomotives have lain in ordinary, in a multiple-track tunnel storage under stasis enchantments which I need you to break so we can drag an engine out for running coal to the estate."
"Tomorrow, you and I are going to go out and have a look at this stuff." Harry frowned; "I had no idea we had all this."
"Read your memos." Victor rolled his eyes, a twitch that had started to happen more often.
"If the stasis has held the locomotives in good condition, I want you to get something to tow them out of storage and some experts to look them over." Harry ordered; "Like the boiler inspector, whatever their price, add fifty percent to it and pay a lump sum upfront."
"You do realise that we're opening the chest containing the Holy Grail for steam enthusiasts? I looked down there a few months ago and counted up the engines as about four hundred, maybe a quarter of them fast, powerful express locomotives." said Victor.
"Hence the bribe, so that they won't mind signing a non-disclosure agreement." smirked Harry.
"Very well. In the meantime I shall start planning crops and where to put them, plus the acquisition of the seeds. When we have engines working, the first stage will be ploughing, then seeding." Victor decided; "Once that is done, we need to do a certain amount of coppicing, and indeed the total removal of a significant number of trees."
"Oh?" Harry asked.
"If you go through the groundskeeper's records through to the beginning of the management of this estate, the woodlands that are part of it have long been well-managed, however, they the labour-intensive job of cutting hasn't been done." said Victor; "Rather the less labour-intensive work of planting new ones has been done, as I've taken it as something of a hobby. A good number of trees need coppicing, the wood can be towed to the water sawmill and cut, we need some beams for minor renovations in the manor amongst other things."
"I'll see about getting in some coal to get things going." Harry agreed.
"And one more thing sir." Victor said before he departed; "There is the matter of... inheritance."
"Should I die without a child, there are directives in place to form an estate trust to care for it." Harry frowned; "You'll still have a place here, being one of the few people I trust. I knew that there was a risk of my being killed in combat, so I have set things up."
"I'm aware you've had a few dalliances, but would be more conducive to the perpetuation of the estate should you marry-" began Victor.
"I understand." Harry said levelly, raising a hand to halt his speech; "But there is only one woman I intend to marry, and I have no intention of rushing it."
"Sir."
Late October 2008, Master's Study, Ravenscroft Manor, Kent, England
Harry looked up for a moment from a rather interesting book on the industrial revolution as his study phone's speaker buzzed for a moment.
"Miss Granger coming up to see you sir." Victor's voice came over the speaker.
"Thanks." Harry acknowledged it, before raking through his recycling bin until he found something he'd thrown out of his last military meeting, left behind by one of his NCOs. A little, slightly twisted prank.
Then the door burst open.
"You've retired!?" it was a combination of exclamation of disbelief, question and exclamation of great annoyance.
Harry looked up from the smutty magazine he'd just slipped into the book he was reading before she'd entered and eyed one of his oldest and most loyal friends, Hermione Granger. She'd matured well and lost much of her bookish air. A bit more given to the ironic and the cynical after just over a decade in the Secret Intelligence Service and the Security Service.
"Good morning Hermione, how are you?" he asked, one eyebrow twitching upwards.
"Hello Harry, and I'm fine." Hermione replied, rolling her eyes at his blatant deflection; "How come I never heard about your retirement?"
"You should be pleased, I've suddenly come over all appreciative of your nagging about studying." Harry gestured with the book towards her, completely ignoring the fact that he'd vanished from school in June 1990.
"What is it?" Hermione's curiosity overcame her knowing that he was just trying to distract her.
Harry turned the book around.
"Men!" huffed Hermione upon seeing the scantily clad occupants of the magazine inside the book.
"No, to be honest I stuffed that in there when I heard you were coming up." Harry chuckled, chucking the magazine in the general direction of the fireplace; "Opportunities to wind you up is all the entertainment I get around here these days."
"Anyway, what happened with you and the army? Nobody told me you were retiring, not invitation to a retirement party, no nothing!" Hermione settled down to interrogate him.
"The retirement was unexpected, and the party at Credenhill resulted in three crashed Land Rovers, five torched pianos, several gallons of various strong alcohols being consumed, several broken limbs, one knife fight over a bag of peanuts and one window broken by someone being thrown through it." Harry replied. "Once I'd recovered from the alcohol poisoning, I decided to set about civvy life quiet-like so that when my Whitehall finally decides to formalise my retirement, I've got something to do."
"Of course, and what have you decided to do?" asked Hermione.
"A few things, mainly running this estate." Harry replied cryptically; "And on that subject, have I shown you the great library before?"
He'd succeeded in distracting her completely.
Late October 2008, the Great Library, Ravenscroft Manor, Kent, England
Harry was drawn from a discussion with Hermione on the latest intelligence coming out of the magical world and how the Security Service intended to contain it, when Victor walked in.
"My apologies sir, several things have come up. The first is that at current calculations, with sixty thousand acres of land to be farmed, estimated yield of a winter barley crop is three million, six-hundred thousand bushels of barley, with an approximate weight of seventy-seven thousand Imperial Tons, approximate market value of fifteen to eighteen million pounds." Victor informed Harry. "Naturally, such a large quantity of land is nearly impossible to farm with such small quantities of equipment and manpower. However I expect we could make fully a tenth of that in the first harvest. Then we'll have to see about what to do in the future."
"Excellent." Harry grinned; "That's a fair bit, though selling it could be problematic due to all the rules and regulations..."
"Turn it into beer. Ten percent would be enough for about a hundred-and-fifty thousand barrels of strong ale, which is over four-hundred and fifty thousand gallons." his butler replied unconcerned. "I've already planned planting hops closer to the manor, as we need two-hundred and sixty Imperial Tons of those for such beer."
"Exactly how drunk are you intending on getting?" asked Hermione.
"We need four-hundred thousand vines to produce enough hops. Each one takes up a square foot of land. What we need is a fair amount of labour." Victor continued. "The barley harvest with one combine harvester will take over two months, so I suggest we contract a number, I suggest about ten, which will reduce the harvest to a mere week, give or take a few days."
"Sounds reasonable, given the amount of land we have. What about ploughing it?" Harry asked.
"We have ploughs big enough to plough a fifty-foot wide channel in one go. The patch of land I've decided to farm is three miles long, and that length can be done in half an hour. Only that will have to be done three-hundred and twenty times." Victor explained patiently; "I have four locomotives for inspection, and working ten-hour days, can complete the job in four days, and when it comes to seeding, well, probably another week."
"The question is, do we know anyone who can drive a traction engine?" Harry poked a hole in the whole damn thing.
"As it happens, I have a few old friends who wouldn't mind coming down and helping out, in exchange of course, for travel costs, food and board." Victor said smoothly.
"Naturally."
"Otherwise, the only things I need to discuss are some labour jobs and if possible, some administrators to free me up to assist you further." continued Victor.
"Thirty-thousand pounds per annum minimum for any staff on my estate." Harry ordered; "Do as you see fit."
"I'm honoured with your trust sir." Victor murmured.
"I'd never have employed you if I didn't trust you." was Harry's reply, waving the old butler off.
"So, Harry, what's this about..?" asked a curious Hermione.
"If you'll excuse me sir, Miss Granger." Victor bowed to them both; "And sir, the boiler inspectors arrived two hours ago, I had the ten Fowlers towed out into the lesser entrance courtyard for their inspection. After lunch it would likely be a good idea for you and I to take a look at the locomotive works."
"Of course." Harry agreed.
Late October 2008, the Ravenscroft Estate, Kent, England
"Sir, this is the senior inspector, Mister Archer." Victor introduced Harry to the senior contracted boiler inspector.
"Pleasure." Harry said brusquely; "What condition are these machines in?"
The five Fowler locomotives, four to work and one spare, each stood twenty-five feet long, fourteen feet tall and nearly ten feet wide. The great width was made with huge rear wheels which were a foot and a half wide, each, and the height was accented by large funnels which served to exhaust smoke and steam from the locomotives. They'd been modified with condensers and superheaters to increase the power by two-and-a-half times the original amount.
"We've drained them of inhibiting oil, they'll need a thorough flushing through with water, but otherwise, they seem to be in as good a condition as you'll get with a freshly restored locomotive." the engineer replied. "Obviously we haven't tested it under pressure for leaks, but visually, the engines appear to have been fully overhauled, maybe run once, then drained, inhibited and then packed away."
"Then you have my permission to go ahead and prepare pressure tests." Harry stated; "Victor, the first shipment of coal..?"
"Brought in from the Manxman at Chatham and parked around the back in your AEC Militant lorry." Victor replied; "I'll have some brought around."
He called a few orders into a radio he kept tucked into his belt as Harry vanished for a few minutes. When he returned, it was with a crude steel grate, and several logs, still dripping with petrol that he'd splashed onto them. A match thrown from a few feet away and the petrol caught, engulfing the logs. The blaze soon burnt out the oil, but had latched onto the dried logs.
At this point, Harry stood back and watched. The Militant pulled into the courtyard, and the bunkers of the traction engines were loaded from a coal scuttle. Then they added some of the coal to the burning logs, leaving it there long enough to burn well. Then hot coals and a bit of petrol from a jerry can were thrown into the firebox of the first locomotive. The traction engine was already full of water that had been pre-heated, so raising steam was a fairly fast process. The first engine was steaming by mid-afternoon, and by eveningtide, had been handed over to Victor's friends, who were soon driving it in circles around the courtyard.
Harry's last order of the day was that the inspectors be treated as honoured guests, well-fed and given good quarters. He left the men, who had decided to move onto the other engines that had thin fires warming them up. The smell of hot oil, steam and smoke wafted around the courtyard.
The smell that had driven an agricultural nation to the heights of industrial and military might.
