Captain John Blackstone stood at the window looking out through the thick glass at the city below the palace tower. Thick yellow fog still covered the city streets, with buildings poking their sleepy heads out of the mists. Out across the lake he could see the towers of the factories that kept the empire running. They belched thick, black smoke into the dawn air already running a work day shift.
    He was alone in the chancellor's office. A fact that irked him, and disconcerted him at the same time. He needed a contract, but he feared the summons was for a fine for some slight he had committed without knowing it. There was so much he didn't know about business and being a ship's captain. He hoped that being in the chancellor's office it might not be too bad as tickets did not, as a rule, come from the chancellor in his office.
    He looked around the office. The wall with the window was the curved outer wall of the tower. The straight wall opposite was narrower than the outer wall, of course. Floor to ceiling bookshelves lined it. Each shelf filled with blue, red and brown books with exciting titles like "Report on Grain Production". A single great oak door broke the expanse of the shelves.
    To Johns left a large gilt framed picture of the king hung on the wall, and a huge oak desk dominated the right side of the wedge shaped room. The sides of the desk were dark, old oak. The top was difficult to see for the great swathes of loose papers scattered about it. The papers reminded John of another possible reason for his summons.
    It might be  another missive from his estranged father. That was a more likely possibility. The old warhorse  still demanding he return home and get back to studying the family business. Raising fruit trees. John shook his head. He could use the managerial skills his father had tried to beat into him now. If only he had some interest in fruit trees.
    He only hoped he hadn't messed up too bad,  Back to the same old thoughts. The door open crashed open across from him. He tried to smooth the front of his blue tail coat and straightened his back to face chancellor as he came through the door.
    The Right Honorable Chancellor Hattensby was a gray haired gentleman stooped under the weight of age. The thick load of books tucked under his arm did not help his posture. His gray robes of office dragged in the dust on the floor as he shuffled over to his desk and dropped the books onto the pile already at home on it. With a sigh, he settled his weight onto the chair and turned to face the window where John stood.
    He looked up, grey hair framing his gaunt, yellowed face, grey piercing eyes meeting John's blue ones.
    "Well boy, are you going to stand over by that window all day or are you going to come over here and speak to me?" 
    John started at the deep voice from such a frail form. He shook his head,  He looked hard at the old man. And man he was. He lacked the pointed ears of the nobility. This man was a commoner!  He had no right to speaking to him like that. John took a deep breath, ready to cut him a new one with the sharp edge of his tongue. He swallowed. He did not need to insult this man. Even if he deserved it. This man had the power to make or break him.
    He took a half dozen quick steps to reach the desk. He took a deep breath, brushed at his waistcoat and put a pleasant smile on his face. The chancellor frowned back at him.
    "If I wanted to see a false smile, I'd visit the sycophants that try and curry favor with the king."
    Again, John started, smile falling from his face. The chancellor looked down at his desk, ignoring his discomfort. He began moving piles around, searching through them for something. John groaned to himself. It was just a missive from his father.
    "Ah ha!  Found it!  Here! Take it."
    John took the slim, leather bound volume from his hand. Not a missive after all, unless his father had  taken up writing poetry or short stories. Given his somewhat practical bent and lack of imagination John doubted it. He turned the slim volume over in his hands, running his fingers over it. He eyed the leather and the pages. He turned his eyes back to the chancellor.
    "What is this?"
    The chancellor leaned back and steepled his fingers. He eyed John over them.
    "It's a map. A map to something this King wants found. It might not even be there, and if you do manage to find it, it might not be worth the time spent finding it."
    "What, exactly, is it?"
    "It, if we have translated the book right, is a sword. A sword that makes the user undefeatable. A sword we cannot let the snakes get a hold of. If it's real and not a fantasy of his majesty."
    "And you want me and my crew to find it."
    "Yes."
    "What does it pay?  We don't work for free, or cheap."
    "I know your financial situation, maybe better than you do."
    The chancellor leaned forward again and dove into the paper sea on his desk shuffling through the papers on his desk, until he finally picked out a folded one and presented it to John with a flourish. John took it in his free hand.
    He opened it, began to read. He struggled to control himself. He swallowed, tried to hand it back.
    "Oh no, young sir, keep it. A man should know who holds his debts."
    The chancellor rifled through the loose papers again. With a flourish, he produced another paper, with a lot less writing on the first one. John took the loose page in his hand and tucked it in the leather volume, took and read the new sheet.
John swallowed again. Shook his head. This was almost too good to be true. There had to be a trick. Best to run while he could.
    "Not that I don't need the money, as you well know, but don't you have other people for this kind of thing?"
    "I do. But I think this is a wild goose chase and my agents are better serving the empire in their current assignments. You are available and not all that important to the empire or anyone else right now."
    John swallowed yet again at that blunt assessment. Nodded his head.
    "Expenses?"
    The chancellor leaned back again.
    "Only reasonable ones. No outfitting your Doxie on the empires penny. You have a month to figure out where it is and recover it. If you succeed by some miracle we will double the fee as a reward. If you fail, then that is all you will see."
    John nodded.
    "That sounds acceptable. Where do I sign."
    The chancellor shook his head, a quiet laugh escaping his wizened form.
    "My dear boy, there are no contracts in this line of work. No platitudes in front of an adoring crowd. Succeed, get paid, maybe get a secret letter of thanks from the King. Fail and keep quiet about it. Die alone if it comes to that. Are you still willing to do the job?"
    "I don't think I have any choice, do I?"
    "No you do not. Best be off about the work then. I've got important matters that are lying fallow while you keep me busy."
    Ignoring John he began to shuffle through the papers on his desk, paying no heed to John. John didn't know if he should offer his hand, or just walk out. He chose to walk out. The chancellor did seem to be that the kind of man   He left the room and began descending the spiral staircase down from the top of the tower. He opened the thin folio as he walked.
    The writing was indecipherable. Some script he didn't recognize at first. He nodded his head as he realized what it was. It looked like Ascendency script. Not that he could read it. Everyone called them snakes. They weren't. They looked like flightless birds, more  raptor-like than snakes. But they hissed a lot, and snake was far more derogatory than the raptors they resembled.
    There were a lot of drawings. That made not knowing the script less important. 
    It looked like one of those guides so popular with the upper crust ladies. The ones who burst into vapors at the thought of a day long coach ride. They devoured tales of expeditions into the dangerous mountains by the cartload. He had little use for that kind of lady, more window dressing than real partner.
    He stopped. There looked to be a drawing of the sword. It looked like an efficient blade, if nothing else. Long and thin. It must be well made not to shatter at the first strike. One of those blades reported to be unbreakable. People always talked about them making the wielder invulnerable. He shrugged. Bullets still beat swords.
    He finished thumbing through the book. He recognized the main pass though the mountains leading south to the Ascendency. It looked like the sword lay behind a horrific fanged face with a door in the mouth on the Ascendency side of the pass. He shook his head. Another reason the chancellor hadn't wanted to risk his own men. They would be violating all kinds of treaties and agreements just by going there. The chancellor had flustered him into agreeing without looking at it first. The chancellor was a hard man, and a hard bargainer.
    He reached the bottom of the stairs. He straightened his coat one more time before opening the door. Time to face his crew and explain what he had gotten them into.

    John stepped into the foyer at the base of tower into an argument. On one side, Torvald stood with his massive arms crossed across his furred chest. Gold bands crossed his biceps. The short, dense hair covering his body was white with dyed tribal patterns spiraling around. He was glaring down his snout and shaking his shorn horns in agitation. Not a welcome site to find your cargomaster. Especially if that cargomaster is a seven foot minotaur from the northern highlands.
    Across from him, fists on his hips, was Albert, John's manservant. Albert was dapper and thin, dressed in the light grays he favored, with calve skin gloves tucked into his belt. His black boots we shined to a tee. His jacket and vest needed no tugging, despite the argument. Albert had one of his smirks on his face.
    John had learned over the years to dread Alberts grin. For the most part because he could trust Albert to always be trying to pull one scam or another. John was not quite sure if Torvald and Albert liked each other. Friends of not, they always seemed to be at each others throats when he left them alone together.
    Between them, trying to keep the peace and the furniture intact was Helena, the ship's navigator. She was a vision in John's opinion. Not too tall, nor too short. Dressed in tan pants, with a blousy white shirt . Some red curls escaped  tied scarf over the her hair. Her face was elfin, like her ears, marking her out as nobility like him. Why she shipped with this crew was beyond John's understanding.
     He was sure the faint aroma of her perfume in the air was hers. She never wore perfume like some of the women his mother had introduced him to. They seemed to bathe in it. She smelled of lavender and something exotic. And she was standing in harms way between two opposing forces.
    He found his voice.
    "What in the name of all that is holy are you three doing here?"
    Torvald turned to face him, Albert smirked at him, but remained where he was.
    "This miserable excuse for a man has asked what I thought we could get for the palace silver if he presented me with it. I took exception to the implication that I know the low-lifes that would deal in such goods."
    Albert replied with an irritating smirk on face.
    "And I was just asking a question to pass the time, purely hypothetical."
    Helena turned on Albert and gave him a shove.
    "The day you ask a purely hypothetical question about theft is the day I take up knitting!"
    Torvald snorted.
    "Well said!" 
    John rubbed the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. He counted to ten, breathing between the numbers. He opened his eyes. They were all staring at him. Tordek spoke first.
    "Are you well? You do not look well. Maybe we should get you back to the ship so the doctor can examine you?"
    John sighed.
    "No. I'm fine. I just realized I should have left the three of you back on the ship. Easier on my reputation than having you kill each other in public."
    Helena looked at him, eyes glinting.
    "Three of us!  Are you lumping me in with these two sots?"
    'No! No! Perhaps I misspoke!  I'd never include you with those two."
    "You wouldn't? I'm not good enough?"
    "What? No! I mean yes! I mean what?"
    Torvald broke first. It was a snort, followed by a deep, deep chuckle. Albert broke next. Laughter bubbled out from him and he doubled over. Helena broke last, grinning at him. The three of them began laughing together. At him. John felt his face heat up. He did the only thing he could think of, short of turning around and fleeing the room. He tossed the slim folio to Helena.
    "Right. Very funny. While you three comedians were cooking this joke up at my expense, I was getting us employment. What do you think of the destination, Helena?"
    She frowned, and opened the book. Albert stood on his tiptoes and peered over her shoulder at the book  Torvald stood back and wuffed. His great cow eyes twinkled at him. It was easy to forget that in his huge, stature lived the heart of a playful creature.
    He looked back toward Albert and Helena. Helena was looking at him through her lashes. He started. He was glad he was already blushing. She was so startling much of the time. A prime navigator, he was lucky to have her on the crew. A stunning beauty, sure to have men pining for her in every port. She elbowed Albert in the chest and he stepped back and she looked back at John.
    "I'm sure you recognize the pass we have to go through. After that I know we turn east along the far side of the range. I'll know more when I get back to the ship and I can study this in more detail."
    She looked over her shoulder at Albert, then back at him. She smacked the book against the palm of her other hand, then handed it to him.
    "You do realize we'll be over Snake territory for that part of the flight, don't you?"
    "And we'll be completely disavowed if we are discovered and captured."
    "Why did you agree to this job with such terrible terms?"
    John shook his head, pointing to the document tucked into the back.
    "I didn't have any choice. It turns out the crown has purchased all our debts."
    "Oh,"
    The silence was living thing as that sank in. Albert shook his head.
    "We'll be paid well, at least, I hope?"
    "Well enough to clear our debts with this one trip. If we survive and make it back."
    "Exactly what are we picking up?"
    "A sword, I believe. A possibly dangerous, magical sword."
    Torvald snorted.
    "Magic is gone from this world, captain."
    John looked up at him.
    "Not gone, just hard to get too. If it's a spirit blade, it will most likely still be quite ... active."
    Albert shook his head.
    "I don't like magic. It complicates things, it does."
    "Then why on earth did you let me study it when I was boy?"
    "I had no idea you had any talent with it."
    Torvald cleared his throat.
    "It does not sound like there will be a city on the far side of this journey. No place to sell or buy cargo for extra profit. This will be a poorer journey for that,"
    John grinned up at him, finally relaxing.
    "I'm sure we can find something to bring back, old pottery, maybe and ancient carving or two. It appears to be a tomb after all."
    Torvald nodded.
    "I might be able to do something with that on our return."
    Albert grinned at that.
    "Those are the folks you should talk to about the palace silver!"
    John shook his head, and lead the way out of the palace into the sunlight. Those two would never stop. Never.

#

    John walked along the cobblestone path. He looked around as he walked. The palace grounds had always been an amazing sight. Each turn along the way marked by marble statues, some of fanciful creatures, others of men and women in various poses, all regal. The lawns between the paths that ran hither and yon across the courtyard area where emerald green without a blade of grass out of place. The paths themselves were free of any dirt, or plant trying to make a break for it from the rigid order of the lawn.
    John pivoted and looked back at the palace itself  No ivy climbed on the stone walls. No stains ran down from windows or from the eaves onto the walls. Glass in all the windows shown in the dawn light. Not a smudge or broken pane in sight. His mind boggled at the sheer expense to keep everything just so. He turned back around as the path they were on turned toward the lesser gate next to the main gate. Albert slipped up next to him.
    "Lot of wasted money you've been looking at, if you don't mind me saying."
    John looked aside at him as they walked.
    "I don't mind, but I think wasted is too strong a word. The money spent keeps the gardeners and maids, and cleaners employed, the money goes out to the city around the palace. People are well fed. The  money isn't wasted. Do I think it could be better spent having them do better things? To that I would agree."
    They walked in silence for the short time it took them to reach the gate and pass into the passage. It was darker inside and rather than fumble about, John stopped. Helena bumped into him, taken by surprise by his sudden stop  He knew it was her by the burst of perfume that swept over him, rendering him speechless, unable to respond to her murmured apology,
    The gas lamps were on in the passage and after only a few moments he was able to make out the claims office. He moved toward it, remembered his manners,
    "That's alright, think nothing of it"
    He kicked himself as he moved toward the door. Suave. Debonair. Idiot. He opened the door and let everyone file into the room before he entered. At least he could be a gentleman.
    The four of them crowded into the small room.. Torvald was a crowd in there by himself. 
    The Imperial guard would prefer it if you didn't even bring weapons to the palace at all. They only tolerated having a place to leave them and retrieve them when you left. It was a death sentence if caught with a weapon on palace grounds if you weren't a member of the Imperial guard. Most people left their weapons at home, or left them with their personal guard outside the palace walls.
    It was a long walk down to the docks, and the closer you got to them, the rougher things could get. He and his crew were not about to risk attack or robbery on the way. He could by no means afford a guard to leave them with. So they suffered through this indignity.
    The room itself was ten feet on a side. There was the door they came in and another door on the far side of the room. Between the doors, on the right wall, was a grated window with wooden shutters closed behind the close set bars. Below the window was an iron door six feet wide and three tall, with a iron handle in the middle top side. Despite the dim light, it was still clean in here. A voice spoke from behind the shutters.
    "Picking up or dropping off?"
    John answered it, while digging into his pockets.
    "Picking up."
    The shutter opened. The wall was at least two feet thick and dressed with stone. The upper torso of the guard, dressed in a burgundy coat with gold buttons and trimmed in gold thread was visible. He was impossible to identify behind the filigreed mask covering most of his face.
    "Chit please."
    John stepped up and tossed the ivory, numbered chit onto the window sill as close as he could to the figure without overshooting. It didn't do to make the guard reach for the chit. Things had a way of breaking or disappearing if that happened. It was a good policy to remain polite, respectful and not make them work any harder than you had to.
    The guard took the chit in a white gloved hand and the window closed again. A long time passed. John checked his watch, it was only about five minutes. The sound of chains rattling came from behind the iron door. A solid clunk and the door moved a tiny bit. With a flourish, John pulled the door open and revealed their weaponry. Only bladed weaponry, of course. A gun was worth your life in the city proper. With a muted click, the door they came through locked.
    John grabbed his rapier and belt and stepped back. It was a simple, functional sword that suited him well. He belted it on by habit and watched his crew do the same. Helena grabbed a thin foil and a long dagger on a single belt that left both on opposite hips. Torvald hefted a single, huge ax with a simple leather strap tied to it and hung it across his back.
    After everyone else finished Albert stepped up and began pulling a large collection of daggers from the bin. He distributed them about his person. When he finished he still looked unarmed. He shrugged his shoulders to settle them all, then looked around.
    "All done."
    John stepped back up and closed the bin. There was a clunk from inside it, a rattle of chains. With a soft click, hard to hear over the sound of the chains, the far door unlocked and popped ajar. Albert walked to the door, opened it, looked about, then stepped outside and held the door like a proper footman. Daylight streamed into the room, leaving everyone blinking against the sudden light.
    "After you all, gentlemen and lady."
    John shook his head and led the rest of them out into the city.

    The road was cobblestone all the way to the harbor. That was about the only thing that remained constant on the way to the ship.
    As they descended into the city proper things became more run down and dirty. Even the air became worse and worse as the made their way toward the harbor at the lakefront. At first the buildings were set back from the road with gardens and walls around them, echoing the palace, and almost as well kept. As they descended at first it was the outer walls that weren't kept as clean, then the houses themselves.
    Finally, after a good mile of gradual descent, the yards disappeared. The buildings now lined a sidewalk with little extra room. With the loss of the yards, also went the clear blue sky and the defined sun. The sky became with blue with a greenish tint, and the sun became a blurry orb, somehow not as clean and bright as before. And the smell!
    At the palace, there had been an all pervading scent of roses. As they left the palace, that faded, replaced by other, less noble, but no less delightful flower smells. Soon, there was only the smell of mown grass. Then a slight, almost agreeable wood smoke odor. That grew stronger and along with the smell of burning coal and other less identifiable, unpleasant odors.
    A good two miles from the harbor the time they reached the city proper. They prayed for the good, honest smell of rotten fish and stagnant water. Foul sulfurous stenches would waft in. Then something dead and rotten, followed by the reek of steel and hot metal. The noise was worse.
    Birds sang at the palace. Dogs barked nearby. The occasional person wished a good morning further along. Then, the steam cars rumbled by, and people began shouting about their wares, people argued on corners. Soon, all too soon, it all blended in a roar that faded, but never quite left in its ever changing blanket of sound.
    "God, I love the city!"
    John turned took at Albert, who was beaming and looking at the masses of people moving about their lives in the crowded city streets. He could not fathom what Albert was seeing. Torvald couldn't either.
    "How can you stand the stink?"
    Albert beamed up at him.
    "Ah, you can get used to that. You'll stop smelling it before you get to the harbor. But the bustle!  The hustle!  It's so alive!"
    He flung his arms out.
    "There are so many possibilities!"
    "Possibilities for what?  An early death from disease?"
    "Well that can happen, but if you're careful a man can make his fortune. Where many people gather together there is money to be made, my dad always told me."
    John could not let that pass.
    "You told me you father left you when you were a young boy!"
    "Well, he did, but he said it a lot when he was there, let me tell you."
    John rolled his eyes and kept walking. It was getting more and more difficult to make headway in the crowd. It was like swimming upstream. All movement ceased. The crowd began to make angry noises. He took the folio out of his pocket and held it in his clenched fist. It was more difficult for the cities pick pocket's to relieve him of it if he kept a tight grip on it. Not impossible, just more difficult. It would take an expert, and he wasn't that great a target by his appearance.
    "Is this one of those times where we needed to be more careful, Albet?"
    Torvald could not have sounded more sardonic if he tried.
    "Yes. Yes I think so. This crowd could get ugly. I wonder what the hold up is?"
     "Well Gov'nors, I've just been up in the building here and I can tell you what the hold up is. Good mornin' miss."
    John started. It was  turning into one of those days. He looked around, even Helena looked a little flustered. The speaker was a tall, dark haired man, broad across the shoulders in bib overalls and a stained work shirt. The cap on his head was also worn, and may have at one time been blue. He carried a large rigid tube, capped at both ends, with stamps and scribbles up and down it. He tipped his worn cap in Helena's direction.
    "You might want to take the little lady one alley that way."
    He pointed to his left with a meaty hand.
    "That's the way I'd go if I didn't have to go fix a lovely lady's problems with her plumbing. Good morning to you."
    With that, he hefted his tube over his shoulder and trotted across the crowded street. Slipping between the pedestrians like an eel. John shook his head.
    "Well then. let's take his advice, shall we?"
    Helena shook her head.
    "I'm not sure. There was something off about him. Why did he pick us out of the crowd?"
    John shook his head.
    "Just a cad trying to help out a lady, Helena. Nothing to worry about it. Who would bother us with Torvald along?"
    Tordek snorted, but managed to look smug anyhow.
    "All right, but mark my words, something's up."
    "Right, we'll remember this back on the ship."
    She shook her head at him, then led the way. John and the others had to hurry to catch up. John felt pretty smug. Off of the main thoroughfare, traffic was pretty light. The buildings were also less dirty. Window boxes with flowers made an appearance. The turned up the street the kind stranger had indicated. The street opened up into a square. Across from the were more buildings. The road did not continue that way, and, if John remembered could not continue to the right. No street had been visible a matching distance up.
    John hesitated a moment. The rest passed him. He glanced back. There were two figures, most armed, and definitely not hiding. One of them looked to be a bruiser. He hurried up and passed Helena. He handed her the book as he passed.
    "Looks like you were right. Unless there is another way out of the square, we are about to be ambushed. Torvald, hang back a bit, Albert with Helena. I'm going to see if there is a way out of the square ahead of us."
    Silent nods and a grunt. He trotted forward and stopped. For one thing, there was no way out of the square. 
To the left was a bakery. In the middle of the square a quaint little fountain with a pigeon stained statue standing over it. To the right side looked like apartments. For another, a raptor stepped out of the bakery and walked toward him, swinging an ivory cane around in one three clawed hand.