“George Washington?” the Writer asked, stylus hovering over the tablet interface. The cityscape outside had grown darker, red and orange hues of dwindling sunlight shading the mirrored facades of skyscrapers into shards of molten steel. An attendant stepped into the large room and replaced his empty glass.

“Well, yes,” valentine said, nearly surprised. “I would have thought that you’d done some research before coming here.” He sounded disappointed.

“Much of the information surrounding you is still classified. Williams may have that sort of clearance, but I don’t.”

Valentine considered this and nodded, “Very well, it seems as if I’ll have to explain more than I had originally intended. George Washington had an extensive spy network reaching well into the nobility of England and Spain and France. Unfortunately, England and all of Europe has an unhealthy reliance on demon abilities. I’d decided to intercede on the young county’s behalf.”

“Why?” the Writer asked, curious.

“It is better for those types of breaks and conflicts to occur sooner rather than later. History shows us this. Had the crown held control of these lands for several more decades, the economic carnage would have destroyed an over-extended Europe.”

“I see,” the Writer replied slowly.

“In my days I’ve learned that, in addition to each small incident and battle, there is always the bigger picture to consider. I helped young America in that spirit.”

“You didn’t care about the cause of the Revolutionary War? About the determination of the colonists?”

“As much as any man with a measure of self-determination and pride.”

The Writer brought the stylus down to the tablet, then paused. “What did the letter say?”

“Oh, this and that. Some intelligence. Something about tea as I recall. It wasn’t particularly a memorable letter.”

“To you.”

“I suppose Michelle was more impressed with it than I was.”

“Where was it?”

“Where else? The Library of Congress.”