Usually, if a king gets off his throne, picks up a sword and asks you to kneel before him it means you are about to be knighted – but this was not the case for Mr Richmond Swift.
The king waggled his sword threateningly at the white-haired engineer and three vicious-looking corgis growled at him.
“Mr Swift, give me one good reason why I shouldn’t run you through and turn you into dog food.” The dogs barked excitedly at this.
“I can give you three good reasons,” replied Mr Swift.
“Go on.”
“Firstly, the way we fight wars is changing. You will need my inventions when you go to war against the French.”
“You’re not the only steam engineer in England,” stated the king. “What’s your second reason?” He prodded Mr Swift’s shirt with the tip of his sword, while one of the dogs sniffed his feet.
“Secondly, I have recently put into action a plan to bring the Steampunk Pirates to justice.”
“I’ll believe that when I see it. What is the third reason that I shouldn’t feed you to my dogs?”
“Er…” Mr Swift thought fast. “I had a rather spicy meat pie last night and I fear it would affect my flavour. It wouldn’t suit your animals’ refined tastes, I’m sure.”
The king lowered his sword. “Yes, they are quite fussy eaters.” The dogs looked disappointed and Mr Swift looked extremely relieved. “So tell me about your plan to bring in these runaway servants of mine. I’ve just increased the reward for their capture. It’s very embarrassing knowing they’re out there, plundering my ships and making a fool out of me.”
“Well, so far all the attempts to capture them have involved your men chasing after the pirates and fighting them on their own terms. My plan, on the other hand, will deliver them right into your hands.”
“What do you mean?”
“I recently created a mechanical albatross, which I sent off to locate the Steampunk Pirates. The bird has been tasked with persuading this bunch of escapees to steal the crown jewels.”
The king gripped his sword tightly. “You mean, my crown jewels?” he stated. “You’re using my crown jewels as bait?”
Mr Swift laughed nervously. “You have nothing to worry about, Your Majesty. My plan is completely foolproof. You see, it is my belief that to catch a machine one must use a machine. Behold—”
“I do hate it when you say that word,” interrupted the king. “Then … allow me to introduce you to … the Electrical Soldiers.”
At the other end of the room, a large door burst open and two huge mechanical men entered. The sound of their metal joints echoed off the walls as they walked along. They were taller than the Steampunk Pirates, with cone-like heads. Instead of the crackling fire and hiss of a combustion engine, they made a buzzing noise and sparks flew as they moved.
“Tesla and Faraday are made of a metal ten times stronger than the pirates,” Mr Swift explained proudly. “They have been fitted with the very latest fighting equipment. As you can see, each arm includes a fully operational bayonet, complete with reloading barrels and self-sharpening swords.”
The corgis hid under the throne and the king dropped his sword in astonishment. “What is this word, ‘electrical’?”
“It is a new method of generating power. It is my belief that one day everything will be electric. From street lamps to your own trousers…”
“My trousers!” exclaimed the king.
“Well, maybe not your trousers,” said Mr Swift, “but everything else. Tesla and Faraday will follow your every command. They will fight your every war.”
“WE WILL OBEY,” said the Electrical Soldiers together.
“Mr Swift, have you lost your mind?” cried the king. “Having created one bunch of metal monstrosities, you offer me yet more of these tiresome tin men.”
“But these men will defeat Clockheart’s crew,” insisted Mr Swift.
“And what is to stop this lot turning on me as well? What is to stop them joining the Steampunk Pirates?”
“I’ve already thought of that,” said Mr Swift. “As part of my plan I mean to learn what made Clockheart and his crew run off. That way, I will know how to avoid it happening again.”
“No, no, no!” exclaimed the king. “No more inventions. If the pirates are coming to the Tower they will be captured by living, breathing soldiers.”
“But it is your soldiers who have failed to capture them so far, Your Majesty.” “Are you arguing with the King of England, Mr Swift?” demanded the king.
“Of course not, Your Highness,” said Mr Swift.
“Good. It is vital that the Steampunk Pirates are defeated by real men of flesh and blood. We must demonstrate that men are better than machines.”
“But, Your Majesty, these Electrical Soldiers are the future of fighting. With your permission I can build an army of them.”
“With my money, you mean,” said the king.
“I admit it will not be cheap, but—”
“Enough.” The king cut him off. “I will send a messenger to the Iron Duke and Admiral Fussington, giving them one last chance to bring the Steampunk Pirates to justice. If they fail me again, you will have your opportunity.”
“As you command, Your Majesty.” Mr Swift bowed and left, with his two Electrical Soldiers behind him.