Guilio Sacchi Tomas Milian is a monster of the human kind, a petty criminal who decides to graduate to the big time by kidnapping the daughter of a wealthy Italian businessman.
We are within two hours of Bagdad and I'm free to admit that coming up this river gives one a wholesome respect for our lines of communication.
This is the 9th day we've been at it, tying up for a few hours at night but steaming 17 or 18 hours a day notwithstanding.
It's well that it wasn't a month later for already the temperature is 90 and on a crowded ship it's hot. We passed Kut before sunrise, but I got up to see it--poor tragic little place--it's shelled walls and shattered palm trees catching the first flash of day.
It is quite empty still, but we are going to clean it out and build it up as soon as possible. We anchored last night just above Ctesiphon. I know the river banks well, for I've ridden up them more than once.
Our big camps are the only unfamiliar objects. It's exactly three years to-day since I last set out from Bagdad across the Syrian Desert on my way back from Arabia.
Sir Percy made me most welcome and said a house had been allotted to me. I went off to see it and found a tiny stifling box of a place in a dirty little bazaar. It was absolutely empty--what furniture I had was with my heavy luggage and not yet landed, and I hadn't even a boy, as I had left my servant to look after the heavy luggage.
Fortunately, like a good traveller, I had not parted from my bed and bath. These I proceeded to set up and further unpacked my box which had been dropped into the Tigris, and hung out all the things to dry on the railings of the court.
It was breathlessly hot. I hadn't so much as a chair to put anything on, and when I wanted water for washing I had to open my front door and call in the help of the bazaar.
Fortunately they responded with alacrity. I dined with Sir Percy, armed myself with a loaf of bread for breakfast and returned to my empty house to sleep. By good luck my servant turned up late that night, so that there was someone to water tea for me next morning.
I confess, however, that after having done my hair and breakfasted on the floor I felt a little discouraged.
It was clear that something must be done at once, and I proceeded to hunt for one. The first thing I tumbled on to was a rose garden with three summer houses in it, quite close to the Political Office and belonging, fortunately, to an old friend of mine, Musa Chalabi.
I decided at once that this was the thing, but a kitchen had to be built and a bath room, and sunblinds to be put up--a thousand things. I got Musa Chalabi to help me and summoned in an old man, a servant whom I've known for ages, and after five days' work I'm in--'tant bien que mal' and it promises very well.
My old man Shamao has engaged me a cook and the Englishman who runs all the supplies Col. Dixon is my faithful friend, having been charged by the I. And my roses I must tell you are glorious.
Oh, but it is hot! I'm longing for my thin summer clothes. I wonder when they will reach me here.
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The character that I’m trying to name is basically a psychic that can only use his powers while he is fighting. He has five swords from a giant buster sword all the way down to a small blade, because I based him off an artist that draws a picture using his swords as he fights.
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