Gears of Revolution: A Zeitgeist campaign

"I always knew they were something special. It takes a fine eye for talent to get to my position, you know. Mind you, no one knew at the time just how big the storm clouds were brewing. Maybe the skyseers, but they didn't tell no one."

The year is 500AOV. Seven years have passed since the Fourth Yerasol War ended in defeat for the nation of Risur. Her lands remain largely intact, and under the rule of king Aodhan, she has began to take on the technological trappings of her historical foe Danor. Risur's traditional allies, the fey of the Unseen Court, are not impressed.

New technology, firedust and steam power drive change and extend the influence of the nations of Lanjyr. Growing power leads to growing influence, and a decade ago king Aodhan ordered the formation of the Royal Homeland Constabulary. The RHC works to root out, undermine, capture, and if necessary kill any groups who endanger Risur.

From within the ranks of the RHC step five constables who will help shape the changing of the world, the spirit of the age, the :

Erik Pride, a battle-scarred war hero trying to juggle a wife, a child on the way, and a stress-filled job. Erik has served with the RHC for over five years, and is viewed by his superiors and by most of the PCs as the leader of the group. But Erik has seen to many dead, experienced too much war, to be happy in that role. [Human Thief, pistol-focused]

Cassi, a young woman raised in the military. Cassi is plain of face but strong of arm. Cassi served in the Fourth Yerasol War as a runner, and missed most of the fighting. Two years ago, she was transferred to the RHC and came under Erik's wing. She looks to the older veteran for validation. [Human Knight]

Thornt, a youth barely out of his teens, but possessed of special talents that have brought him to the attention of the RHC. The most bestial in appearance of the constables, but also perhaps the most innocent. Thornt is the newest member of the group, but quickly proved both his own impulsiveness and the value of keen senses.[Razorclaw Shifter swarm Druid]

Willheim Graff, a blue-skinned immortal currently serving the RHC for the fourth time. Willheim, with his centuries of life experience and long service with the RHC, begrudges Erik his leadership - especially since Erik was present at (and failed to prevent) Willheim's last death. Despite that, the deva cannot help but like his leader. Willheim shows great respect for Cassi's martial proficiency. [Deva centred breath Monk]

Tok, the face of the group and a seemingly bottomless well of bravado and pride. A true Wild Card. Tok served his probation under Erik when he joined the RHC. Knowing Tok's obsession with puzzles, the older man gifted him with a puzzle box upon his graduation two years ago, and Erik is proud to know that Tok has not yet solved it. Or so he thinks. [Changeling Bard]

The world is changing, and these five constables will soon find themselves in the centre of the maelstrom.

For those unfamiliar with Zeitgeist's setting, the 2-page primer can be found here.

Just a quick reply to say I'm looking forward to reading about your adventures.

Session 0

"Things change as they grow, and Flint is no exception. The city ain't nothing like it was 30 years ago. Just look at Parity Lake. Used to be we swam in it during the heat of summer, but now it ain't fit for fish. Now the area's only fit for factories, slums, and other - nastier - things."

Late in the spring of 500 AOV, a young shifter named Thornt was assigned to a small group of constables in the Royal Homeland Constabulary.

The group, led by Yerasol War vetern Erik Pride, had just been assigned to investigate a series of disappearances in the Parity Lake district. Assaults and murders were no uncommon occurrence in the factory district surrounding the polluted lake, but this was different. The victims were disappearing, leaving nothing behind but blood and signs of a struggle.

The group began their investigation by questioning the supervisors and owners of the factories at which the victims worked. The industrialists were cagey, and one in particular refused point blank to answer any questions at all. Erikpressed his enquiry, and a half-drawn pistol soon convinced the man that it was in his interests to co-operate.

The factory supervisor directed the constables to the route that his employee took home on the night she disappeared. In a filthy alley winding behind towering slums, Thornt's delicate nose picked up the scent of decaying flesh. The group soon realised that they were dealing with the denizens of the Bleak Gate, and that it was the undead who were taking the citizens of Parity Lake.

The next night, the contables took up watch in the area, and Willheim's keen eyes soon spotted a silent figure shuffling through the darkened streets. The Deva beckoned for this companions to follow and then stealthily pursued the figure. Only when it dropped into an exposed sewer trench, did it elude him.

The group clambered down into the sewer and began their search, unwittingly stumbling into an ambush by a criminal gang. Fortunately, Cassi's reflexes enabled her to leap forward with her shield and deflect an arrow aimed squarely at Willheim. The knight took off after the fleeing attackers, and managed to trail them to an opening before they escaped into the darkness. Once out of the sewer, Thornt's nose surprised them all by confirming that the undead had come this way.

Tok then went to work, convincing and cajolling Parity Lake's homeless and authority-averse citizens to lay bear the secrets of the area. His enquiries soon lead the group to an abandoned mansion. Tok got the group inside the building, where they soon discovered a Drakran necromancer and his undead creations.

The undead surged forward to attack, but the constables were equal to the task. Soon, the undead lay destroyed and only the dwarf remained. With a smile, the bearded necromancer flourished a piece of paper stamped with the royal seal of Risur.

"I am a Drakran diplomat", he laughed. "I am immune to your prosecution".

Willheim wavered, torn between his obligations to the law and distaste for what had happened here. In the end, their occupation won out. The constables took the necromancer in.

Within an hour the dwarf had been released, and he disappeared into the streets of Flint.

Session 1: Crowd Security

"I remember how everything began. Flint's streets were crowded with people - locals and visitors alike - eager to celebrate the launch of Risur's greatest triumph. Of course, there's always those who don't see things the same way as everyone else. And them sort of people keep the likes of the RHC busy."

In the Spring of 500 AOV, seven years after the end of the Fourth Yerasol War and thirty years after King Aodhan captured Danor's first steam-powered warship, the nation of Risur had completed its own steamship.

The RNS Coaltongue, manufactured in the shipyards of the industrial city of Flint, was intended to guard Risur against Danoran aggression. It was to be the first building block in restoring parity between the two nations.

Tasked with ensuring that the Coaltongue's launch went without a hitch, Assistant Chief Inspector Stover Delft of the RHC assigned his best investigators to the job. In the lead up to the event, the members of RHC Team 3, more commonly referred to as RT3, spent weeks canvassing the dockyards, performing background checks on the guest list, and coordinating with the local Flint police to set up a perimeter around the royal docks. Then, as the day of the launch finally arrived, they found themselves standing with Flint's police at the first of two checkpoints.

The king had decreed that 700 citizens would be allowed into Fleet Square to witness the vessel's launch, and residents and travellers had flooded into Flint in the hopes of being one of the lucky few. While the local police counted heads, Team 3 moved among the crowd looking for threats.

Each of the constables knew from their earlier efforts that four groups were most likely to have cause to interfere:

• the Dockers; a nascent organisation of poets and dock workers angry about the continued impositions by industrial concerns on Flint's working class;
• primalists; followers of the ancient druidic faith of Risur, who see the Coaltongue as a betrayal of Risur's historic pact with the fey and their magic;
• the adherents of the eladrin terrorist known only as 'Gale', whose attacks against technology and its proponents had grown more frequent in recent months; and
• veterans of the Third or Fourth Yerasol Wars, bitter about their long-standing conflict with the tiefling nation of Danor and resentful of the Coaltongue's engineer, the Danoran tiefling Geoff Masarde.

While Thornt hung back scanning the skies for signs of Gale's wind magic and Willheim watched the crowd with ageless eyes, Erik, Cassi and Tok moved among Flint's bustling populace, catching snippets of conversation and glimpses of activity as they went. The crowd seemed happy and carefree, enjoying the pomp and grandeur of the day's event. As liveried servants moved through the throng passing out copies of the royal anthem, Erik and Willheim spotted groups of veterans and primalists, and ushered their companions forward to investigate further.

Unfortunately, before RT3 could move in, the bells above the square rang Nones and the excited crowd surged forward, eager to take their places in Fleet Square. Erik and Cassi hurried back to join the other members of the team.

At the same time, a grizzled sailor named Thames Grimsley pushed his way urgently through the crowd. Grimsley was known to the RHC as a docker, and was unwelcome in many circles for his attempts to organise a worker's union of sorts. A ragged scar down one cheek from a policeman's knife proved both Grimsley's devotion to his cause and the animosity it engendered in the city's authorities. Scanning the assembled lawmen and women, Grimsley settled on Erik.

"You and your kind may not like me and mine," he said, "but I play by the rules. Some of these other idiots don't. They plan to interrupt the ceremony. If you'll pass a message to Governor Stanfield for me, I'll point them out to you".

Erik's gaze was steely. "What's the message?"

"My people are restless. They’re raring for a riot, but I'm trying to keep them calm. Tell Stanfield that if he can’t take some of the pressure off the workers, there’ll be blood in the streets."

Erik nodded but initially said nothing. "Will you pass it on?" Grimsley pressed, and finally Erik said he would.

The old docker turned and watched the assembled crowd for a moment before nodding in the direction of four burly working men, eclectically dressed in working leathers and flamboyant armbands and scarves. The grim-faced dockers moved as one toward the checkpoint, clearly not sharing the exuberance that surrounded them.

Erik stepped into their path. "Excuse me gentleman. Would you mind stepping over to the side for moment so we can have a little chat?"

The four men looked to each other before one of the them at the back replied.

"Sod off. We ain't done nothing wrong. We're going through."

Each of the four took a single step forward before Cassi stepped in from the side, placing a restraining hand on the chest of the nearest docker. Her face made her displeasure clear, and the gutter language that followed would surely have dispelled any remaining doubt. The docker paused in shock, before turning to look at the man in the rear. The fourth man, well-built and with an aura of confidence, was clearly a veteran. He gave his companion a viscious grin. The man turned back to Cassi and batted the knight's hand away from his chest "Right then," he cried. "It's on!" He pulled his meaty fist back to throw the first punch.

Before the closest dockers could attack, Erik ducked away from the front lines, discharging his loaded pistol into the air beside a docker's face. The man flinched, allowing the senior investigator to move back and open some range between himself and the attackers. The sight of raised fists and the crash of the fusil shot provoked screams in the crowd, and a perimeter quickly opened up around the combatants.

Cassi clubbed the docker in front of her with her heavy shield, but two of his compatriots moved past. They fell on the suddenly-exposed Willheim at once, and even his monastic training could not prevent the first brawler's blow landing on his cheek. "I wanted to give this to Stanfield, but any deva will do," the second docker shouted. "Pass it on for me, will you?" And then his fist crashed into the other side of Willheim's face. The deva's eyes rolled back and he collapsed in a heap.

Tok's enchanted words soon had the deva back on his feet and Willheim moved through his assailants, scattered them away from the checkpoint like leaves in an autumn wind. At the same time, Thornt's longtoothed form dissolved into a swarming cloud of insects. A massive clawed shape emerged from the form to slash at the dockers.

"Right, that's it, bitch", one of the dockers said to Cassi. Before the constable could raise her shield, he had drawn a short blade and slashed it across her cheek, leaving a shallow cut that poured blood down her neck and into the gorget of her plate.

Despite that limited success, the dockers soon became frustrated with trying to penetrate Cassi's defences, and turned their attention to Erik, who was loitering with intent just behind her. Despite Cassi's painful dissuasion, both dockers landed their blows on the senior investigator, and a blade scored a ragged gash in Erik's side. He clutched at the wound before passing out.

As Tok rushed to his leader's aid, Grimsley stepped forward. "Blades?!" he muttered. "Idiots!" Then the old docker called for Cassi to duck. The knight complied and Grimsley launched himself into the air. Sailing over Cassi's head, his balled fists caught one of the dockers in the face and knocked him senseless to the ground. His feet caught the docker veteran and he too went down.

Almost simultaneously, Cassi smashed the face of the man in front of her with her shield. Blood sprayed outward as his nose shattered under the impact, and he went down wimpering.

The last docker panicked, slashing at Willheim with his blade before attempting to flee into the crowd. A blue-skinned hand took him in the neck, and he crumpled breathlessly to the ground.

As the veterans in the crowd cheered in appreciation of the spectacle, the nearby policemen moved forward to drag the unconscious dockers away. Grimsley looked from Cassi to the unconscious Erik. He nodded respectfully to the young woman. "Remind your boss of his promise," he said, and them Grimsley moved off into the crowd.

The members of RT3 moved off the street to recover their composure as 700 citizens of flint eagerly passed through the checkpoint and into Fleet Square.

Nice. I suppose it's fair to start off a campaign by letting the PCs know they're mortal and vulnerable.

I hope the players had fun.

Session 1: Long Night Ahead

"There's nothing quite like a fish out of water. It flaps about, clearly uncomfortable and trying to return to something familiar and safe. Kinda like constables thrown among the nobility, really..."

When RT3 had made themselves respectable, they too moved into Fleet Square. Chief Inspector Delft was waiting for them, chewing a wad of tobacco and greedily eyeing a halfling chef carrying a tray of pastries.

"Now then,” he said, “we’re about to earn our pay. Lots of nobles about, so first, don’t make a scene, and definitely don’t talk to any of the nobility unless they address you first.

“Second, if something does go wrong, try to handle it yourselves, would you? I’m going to be busy applying my not-inconsiderable charms to very important people. The Constabulary doesn’t get by with just good will and pretty faces, you know.​

Delft smiled with a mouth full of tobacco juice.​

“And third, you did good work, so I’ve got a surprise for you.”

The Chief Inspector led RT3 to the Coaltongues gangplank, where a straigh-backed man in red and gold robes stood waiting. Despite being in his 60's, Principal Minister Harkover Lee looked every inch his position as the king's personal bodyguard and chief adviser.

Delft introduced the members of RT3 to Lee, who nodded respectfully as each was introduced, but did not offer his hand. Once the greetings were complete, Lee spoke.

"Security on the Coaltongue is tight, but I would like some representatives of the Constabulary aboard this evening. The king is planning a major announcement after the fireworks and banquet, and I would value having a few extra eyes and ears aboard to get a gauge of how various individuals in the crowd react."

While he spoke, Lee's eyes scanned the assembled dignitaries gathering nearby. Then his expression hardened. "Plus", he continued, "there are a few recalcitrant guests who might need corralling."​

Turning, RT3 saw an ornate carriage pull up. The liveried driver pulled open the door and Duchess Ethelyn, the king's sister and the administrator of the Risuri city of Slate, emerged. Clad in a green gown offset by extravagant diamond cluster earrings, Ethelyn glance around at the assembled crowd with a warm smile. Then she alighted and move away. Seconds later, a beautiful elven woman emerged from the carriage. Sokana Rell, the duchess' handmaiden, closed the door behind them and followed her mistress.

Principal Minister Lee coughed, drawing attention back to him.

"I must prepare for the king's arrival. If you have any further questions, please ask the chief inspector." And then he moved off into the crowd.

Delft swished his tobacco juice and tapped the dock with his cane. "Remember what I said about not bothering me", he said, and then he too was gone.

Session 1: The King's Arrival

The members of RT3 spread out, moving among the assembled dignitaries to make sure that security was as tight as Principal Minister Lee believed.

Fleet Square overflowed with almost a thousand people. The crowd of seven hundred had been corralled into the southernmost portion of the square, and busied itself with renditions of the royal anthem, throwing streamers and noisily celebrating.

The official guests occupied the remaining quarter of the square, mingling civilly. Of those privileged few, only a quarter were dignitaties. The remainder were local staff and members of the dignitaries' personal retinues. Most of the guests did their best to ignore the noisy crowd, but more than one appeared to revel in the occasion, playing to the throng and being raucously cheered in return.

As they moved through the press of humans, elves and dwarves, Willheim noted the presence of a tiefling. Geoff Massarde, chief engineer of the Coaltongue and a defected Danoran tiefling, stood flanked by two burly bodyguards. He was chatting to a cluster of military men and industrialists, and swirling a glass of wine. Half-melted frost coated the glass despite the warmth of the afternoon, and as Willheim watched the tiefling produced a small wand from his pocket and touched it to his drink. Ice patterns immediately spread over the glass.

Nearby, Cassi passed a solid naval officer chatting to a dwarf. The naval officer's epaulettes identified him as a captain, and she heard more than one dignitary refer to him as Smith. Both Smith and his companion smoked cigars, and the fragrant smoke hung heavy around them. They seemed to be discussed philosophy. Cassi smiled in surprise, and pressed on through the crowd.

Just when the constables were satisfied that the area was secure, Sokana Rell approached them. She asked if they would accompany her to the duchess, and Erik and Willheim - clearly taken with the elf's beauty - hastily complied.

Duchess Ethelyn stood apart from the crowd, holding a hand to her head. Erik greeted her with words of pride for Risur and for her brother the king. Ethelyn thanked him, but then sighed. She appeared to be feeling every one of her sixty years. After listening politely as Sokana introduced the constables, she smiled weakly.

“It is my understanding that you have some sway over the arrangements of this event. If you could do an old lady a kindness, the air here is already leaving me winded, and the company is already giving me a headache. I know my brother’s party is going to run late, so I need a room I can nap in. I’d be very grateful if you’d arrange this for me.”

RT3 gladly agreed to assist, and the duchess thanked them for their time and moved away. Sokana remained behind, seemingly flattered by Erik's and Willheim's attention. Eventually, however, she politely excused herself and moved off after her mistress.

Willheim moved off as the duchess had bid, speaking to a naval officer named Elian Aughtbrook at the base of the Coaltongue's gangplank. Guests were not yet being allowed onto the vessel, but Elian confirmed that there was a stateroom at the aft of the gun deck that the duchess could use to rest in. He promised to show it to Willheim if the deva sought Elian out once aboard.

Erik cornered the chef Delft had been watching earlier. The halfling was unmoved by Erik's nationalistic oratory, but begrudgingly allowed the investigator to take one of his wares. Erik carefully placed it in a folded napkin and secured it in one of his longcoat's pockets. He knew that his wife Sara, carrying his child, would find it delightful, and his conscience already berated him for his flirtation with Sokana.

Half an hour after the bells chimed None, trumpeters announced the arrival of the king's carriage. Elite guards, clad in ornate plate armour and wielding magical halberds that blazed with powerful runes, lined the bridge leading to Fleet Square. An ornate black carriage pulled up, and a liveried driver opened the door.

Flint Governor Roland Stanfield emerged from the carriage, blinking briefly in the sunshine before waving happily to the assembled crowd, who cheered him lustily. Stanfield nodded back to the other man in the carriage and then the deva stepped down from the carriage and moved away.

Once Stanfield was clear, King Aodhan emerged. The king seemed worn but not beaten by his 70 years of life, and there was still steel in his spine. Were it not for his exquisitely tailored clothes and the golden circlet upon his brow, Aodhan would have seemed just another dignitary. But the crowd's reaction left room for no mistake. As the king offered the crowd a one-sided smile, Harkover Lee and Duchess Ethelyn moved forward to greet him. Children, gathered in advance by royal aides, cheered and sang the traditional crown anthem as the group made its way to the docks.

Once they reached the waiting scaffold, the king climbed unaided to the ceremonial platform. He accepted the offered bottle of champagne, then turned to the crowd.

"People of Risur!" he said, and his magically-amplified voice boomed out to be heard by all present. "From this time forward, this vessel shall be known as the Royal Naval Ship Coaltongue." King Aodhan smashed the bottle of champagne on the Coaltongue's hull, and the crowd roared in approval.

At that moment, the ship's steam whistle blew and black smoke began to billow from its stacks as the engine roared into life. The RNS Coaltongue, the newest weapon in Risur's arsenal, shuddered with power.

The guards at the base of the gangplank stepped aside, and the assembled dignitaries began to follow Elian Aughtbrook aboard.

Yerasol archepelago

Session 2: All Aboard

"Some Risuri like to think that we're safe and clever. That our artifice and strength mean our enemies cannot touch us. But I know better; that even the greatest of endeavours is vulnerable somewhere. Every massive chain has one rusted link."

The crowd, eager to get a closer look at Risur’s latest technological advance, moved quickly to board the Coaltongue. RT3 joined them. While Cassi took up a position near the gangplank, her gaze a match for the armour encasing her form, the RHC’s other investigators spread out to study the crowd and the ship itself.

Tok – wearing the face of a human, the clothes of a martial scholar and a pair of thin wire-framed spectacles - was drawn immediately to the large glass structure that stood in the middle of the foredeck. Shaped in a half-cylinder to resemble the boiler of a train locomotive, the glass was inlaid with fine strands of metal that occasionally flashed and sparked with some internal magic.

Erik wandered through the crowd, assessing those present for threats. He soon came across Captain Smith again. The naval officer was still talking to the black bearded dwarf, and – unperturbed by the cloying cigar smoke ringing the two - Erik paused to listen.

“Miller’s central thesis is simple. If opposing groups understood each other more, then they would not oppose each other and would instead work together. Thus all conflicts could be avoided.” Smith gestured with his glass of wine, as if doing so would accentuate his point.

The dwarf only shook his head. “Foolishness,” he replied. “Ordered systems will inevitably be ruined by some accident. History has shown it time and again. Millerite theories are doomed, because sooner or later some accident or misunderstanding will arise that doom the opposing groups to renew their conflict.”

Erik interjected. “This Miller can’t be right. I don’t think there can be understanding when the Danorans are around.”

Smith looked the constable up and down before huffing. The dwarf laughed and playfully thrust his cigar at the Risuri captain. “Aye lad,” he agreed. As both men turned to look toward the city of Flint, Erik left them to their smoke.

While Tok studied the strange glass structure, Elian Aughtbrook walked past, leading a group of merchants and military men on a tour of the ship. Aughtbrook gestured to the structure with a flourish.

"This, gentlemen, is the capacitor.” He banged on the glass theatrically with his fist. Tok half-expected it to shatter, showering those inside with shards, but it held firm. “The capacitor is extremely strong, and perfectly safe to walk through.”

The merchants seemed sceptical, so Aughtbrook opened a door at the rear of the capacitor and stepped inside. His hair rose slightly, lifted by static charge, but he smiled happily.

“The capacitor’s expansive windows make it a perfect venue for ceremonial purposes such as tonight, but its primary purpose is to store excess energy from the Coaltongue’s steam engine for use by the Coaltongue’s warmages, and of course to charge the brand.”

Aughtbrook turned and pointed down the length of the foredeck to the prow of the ship. The merchants and Tok turned to follow his pointed finger. Cleary visible at the front of the vessel was a large turret that glowed with many-hued runes.

Aughtbrook moved to the front of the capacitor and his guests followed. Tok stepped inside and felt a tingle on his skin from the energy stored in the structure. He joined Aughtbrook’s group just in time to hear the officer speak again.

“The capacitor and brand are Risur’s greatest trump card against Danoran warships. Once the capacitor has stored sufficient energy, the brand allows it to be unleashed against an enemy vessel. Our testing indicates that the blast will be more than enough to destroy a smaller vessel outright in one glorious moment of power. Even ships than the Coaltongue need fear its power, for a blast from the brand should cripple even the largest Danoran battleship”

Tok waited for Aughtbrook to pause, before interjecting. “You mentioned the ship’s warmages. How do they access the power stored in the capacitor? Are there arcane keys? I imagine you wouldn’t want just anyone siphoning the power.”

Aughtbrook smiled, clearly not to be distracted. “I assure you sir, that the power of the capacitor is adequately safeguarded.” He looked back to his guests. “Come gentlemen, I will show you the rest of the ship”.

Session 2: All Aboard (cont.)

The small group moved off, leaving Tok to consider his study of the capacitor. A pink-skinned tiefling stood nearby, surrounded by a group of naval officers and industrialists. Tok and Erik both recognized Geoff Massadre from their work in the lead up to the Coaltongue’s launch. The Coaltongue’s chief engineer was gleaming with pride, loudly telling his audience of the vessel’s fantastic capabilities.

The finer points of Massarde’s rhetoric were lost on Erik, but he certainly understood once the tiefling began discussing the Coaltongue’s firepower.

“12 cannon each side of the gundeck,” Massarde proclaimed with a smile.

“More than you would expect from a vessel this size.”

The crowd, filled with active and retired military personnel, murmured appreciatively.

“And she has a top speed of 15 knots,” he continued ”far higher than most sail-fitted ships of the line!”

The latter comment was not received with anywhere near the same enthusiasm as the former, and the constables noticed that a few of the naval officers in the group seemed less than impressed with the comparison.

Meanwhile, Thornt moved through the crowd until he found the stairs leading below deck. Clambering down them, he investigated first the gun deck and then the berth and engine decks.

On the gun deck, he checked each of the cannon for sabotage and then made sure that the ships’ mage quarters and observation room were empty.

On the berth deck, he encountered a marine standing guard at a short passageway lined with three doors. He flashed her his Constabulary papers and she visible relaxed. “What’s through there?”

“The ship’s magazine,” she replied. “Want to have a look?”

The marine stepped further into the corridor and opened the nearest door, revealing stacked barrels painted with a red triangle, the well-known symbol for firedust. A ribbon-and-wreath charm hung from the ceiling, and the marine noticed Thornt studying it.

“It’s a fire ward,” she said. “It stops the firedust exploding in the magazine. Even a direct hit on these rooms wouldn’t cause a detonation while the ward is in place.”

Thornt thanked her for the information and continued his tour. The heat on the engine deck was oppressive, but it was empty but for two engineers busily shoveling firegems into the Coaltongue’s boiler. Thornt made his presence known and one of the leather-clad men came over to speak to him.

“Has anyone strange been down here lately?”

The engineer wiped dirty hands on his smock and replied with a gap-toothed grin. “Why would anyone come down here?” he laughed.

Thornt smiled as a trickle of sweat ran down the nape of his neck. He nodded courteously to the engineer, then happily returned to the main deck.