Leaning against the enormous chimney on the roof of the East Chamley textile mill, Alberic Bourneham, Marcus Wise, Antonius Fervel and Isaac Russell used their half hour break to. It was the break before the morning shift and the dark sky was slowly getting lighter. Factories never stopped and hundreds of thick columns of smoke were pouring out of the tall chimneys that dominated the skyline. Looking to the east, past the Old Commons, one could see the famous donjon of Kingstone but to the west were only more factories and workers housing. 

There were three shifts at the East Chamley factory: the morning shift, from six to a half past one, the day shift, from two to half past nine and the night shift, from ten to half past five. Between shifts there was a thirty minute break which most workers spent outside to escape the hot and crowded working stations. Getting all the way to the roof of the factory meant going up three narrow staircases and took up precious minutes of their break but it was a place with guaranteed privacy. The factory had a saw-tooth roof, but there was a door that gave access to a small platform between two chimney for maintenance workers. It was here that Alberic and his associates, if they could sneak away without anyone seeing them leave, would discuss business. 

As another gust of wind hit blew the matchbook out of the hands of Isaac Russell, who had been trying in vain to light his pipe for the past two minutes, the other three chuckled.

“Might as well get to it then.” Isaac Russell said dryly as he put the pipe back in his coat pocket. In the factory he was in charge of the machines that spun the yarn, a job that earned him just a few cents an hour more than the average pay. Though age had turned his hair from blonde to grey, he was just as broad and sinewy as he was when he was shovelling coal. His brute strength was one of the reasons why Alberic liked to keep him close, but he also commanded great respect from the other factory workers. 

“Talks are going nowhere.” Alberic said and took a swig from his flask. 

“I think I’m not gonna like where you want to go Alberic.” Antonius Fervel said. He was a more moderate voice within the union but despite of that, or perhaps because of that, had a lot of friends and followers. More and more people in the union had become concerned that the leadership was becoming too radical and Antonius was one of them. The man, who lost his left hand in a work related accident a few years back, was an angry drunk and drunk he was often but at least he could be reasoned with. 

“You don’t have to like it.” Alberic replied coolly. “What’s the point of talking to people that won’t listen? The bosses don’t take us seriously Antonius.”

“The police won’t let this go Alberic, I’m telling you. You’ll end up dead or in prison and in prison you’ll end up dead. They’ve been snatching people off the streets.”

“Maybe you don’t like where we’re going, but we can’t just stay put.” Marcus Wise chimed in. He was Alberic’s closest friend and had a greater hatred for the factory owner than even Alberic himself. “They already think we’re a danger and want to take us down before we even properly get on our feet.”

“Marcus is right.” Alberic said after his friend had finished saying what they agreed he would say before they came to the roof. “You think they don’t know who you are? You think they will just let you be if you stay quiet?”

“If we throw some things around, they will see what they are dealing with. They will see that we won’t back down if they arrest us.” Marcus added. “They need to see that if they go after us, we go after them.”

After a brief pause Alberic spoke up again. “We need you in this Antonius. We need you, we need your friends. Just like we need you and yours Isaac.” He liked to think of himself as a great orator, a great leader of men, but in reality it was Marcus who could always find the right words and the right tone to convince a man. 

“You’ll have us.” Isaac said finally. Antonius remained silent but did not protest. They all knew what Alberic wanted even before the talk on the roof. The last few days there had been talk of a strike and yesterday there was talk of sabotage. Whenever Alberic wanted something, he would make sure that everyone was already talking about it. In two days the Erdley Textile Workers Association would go on strike. Of course, Alberic had greater plans. He was out in the open and he was vulnerable. He had to watch his step or risk falling into the hands of the police, or worse. However, Alberic's plan to avoid trouble, was to create more. The strike was to start peaceful, but if Alberic could have his way it would certainly not end that way.