[i]Four days later, Oxfordshire countryside, 17:00 PM.[/i]

The afternoon sun shined brightly across the Oxfordshire landscape, dragging shadows after the trees, bushes and rocks standing up from the ground. And people, like George and the small group strolling through the wilderness. This land was, to George's great disappointment, the property of one of his friends, a fellow landowner. Owning it for himself would have been his next big priority for his renown and family, only if he hadn't enjoyed James' company as much as he did. They were like-minded, upper-class Englishmen with a well taste for life. Hunting included. 

The sound of a shotgun rang through the air, followed by the thud of a grouse crashing into the ground. -"Excellent shot, George. That's a new record, I reckon?" 

"Thank you, James. I do think it is, write that down Albert." George said to one of the men walking with them, one of his servants of course. George opened the shotgun and casually walked towards the dead grouse to pick it up. "I impress myself sometimes." Then he suddenly received a text message on his phone, and by the special ring he knew exactly who it was from, and probably what it was about. George handed the grouse over to Albert and turned his attention to his phone. "Well gentlemen, I fear we should considering ending this session sooner than expected. I have business to attend to."

[i]A few hours later, The Pear Orchard.[/i]

George had already ordered his bottle of whiskey when the rest of the team started pouring into the pub. He took a sip of his glass of whiskey, a fine year of Glenfiddich, greeting the others as they sat down. "I certainly don't mind him not joining us, people like him do not drink after all. What a pity for them, when scotch is such an important part of life. Or what, Cassandra?" George's eyes shot over to Cassie and her less-than-delicate drink in her hand. 

"For Queen and country, to us, and everyone else out there who needs us."