Chapter 1: City of Steam

Mrs. Wynne – between the heat, the loss of blood, and what had been the ferocity of her search – grows delirious. She begins looking for her name on the headstones. “Where is MY grave?” But not in any morbid way: she is simply curious. "I must be around here somewhere."

Then, at the peak of her curious disinterest, when Mrs. Wynne realizes that if she cannot find her headstone, she must still be alive – Mrs. Wynne draws a gun on her enemy. But this time he is not wearing a leather vest, with a red feather in his brass-banded leather top hat, with his brass spurs. He has close-cropped hair, and a form-fitting white jacket, and a pale blue. . .leotard? “What is he wearing?”

Mrs. Wynne races to the horse, leaps on it, and rides it with abandon back to town. If there were a train leaving town today, she would be the first on it. Another plan forms: Though perhaps she cannot escape Dorset, maybe a memory can escape her brain.

Mrs. Wynne secures the horse outside her flat, dashes inside, and rummages through Miss Leicester’s belongings until she comes to her sketch pad.

“Well I believe that’s Cairn! Miss Leicester has drawn a good likeness there. And that is matron Eliza, and Bianca. Who knew Miss Leicester was such an artist? She has even drawn herself – and there is MY portrait as well. Is that what I look like sketched in pencil?”

Mrs. Wynne’s portrait gazes back at her, seemingly asking what she is doing holding Miss Leicester’s sketch pad and pencil. Was she about to draw something? Was she about to write something down?

“Really, Mrs. Wynne – you should get some rest and restore your strength.”

Mrs. Samar Wynne was never one to ignore her own good advice.

Wilhundt makes his way to the stack of steel rails and sits. The morning sun has made them warm, this afternoon they will be scalding to touch. He notices, for the firat time, the open doors of the new building and the massive boiler and steam engine and wonders at the overnight shift in focus that has occured at the factory. "What need do we have for such massize power as that boiler will make?"

Dr. Holmes sees Wilhundt sitting on the stack of rails and heads over, "Good morning Wilhundt. I believe we are meant to lift those." Not looking forward to the day Dr. Holmes looks around for the tools needed for the job set before them.

The various work crews seem to be in good cheer. "Well, I've been needing some exercise", says one man, patting his round belly. Others opine about how they're going to do it, and what they think the foremen will have them do. All in all, it's more an atmosphere of interest and engagement rather than "this is work, we hate this". "It looks like we'll be making tracks out the front, and back into the main factory building". Others agree, some disagree. "Might be easier to remove the sides of the buildings, and build the track straight through." There's some disagreement with that suggestion, though. "You lout, the walls will collapse!" Whatever the case may be, it's being treated more like an event than a workday.

Holmes and Varyu find themselves on different track-laying teams, though working fairly close together. The two men look for Weigel, but don't see him. Outside, maybe, working the trough and trestles? But before long, the work gets under way in earnest. It's clear that the smiths had been working overtime. Strangely, there aren't a lot of rails. You can't imagine that there are enough to go out the front of the building and into the next. But what rails are there have been finely crafted, many of them curved. When it's your turn, you're led to an ingenious tool for grabbing rails from the top of the stack, and bringing them to the ground without dropping them on people's feet. It takes several men to operate it from behind the stack, and behind the stack, you find another boiler. Not nearly as large as the first -- is it part of today's work? No one has mentioned it. And why is it inconveniently close to the stack? For crying it loud, it's a huge building, you'd think they'd have planned it better and left a little more room. Oh, well.

In no time, you find yourself enjoying the work, and before long, the curve has been laid, and the track is aimed for the exit.

The crews start to develop a rhythm, the curved tracks are in place, ready for the straight rails to be laid out the front barn door. The extra boiler has certainly aroused curiosity in Dr. Holmes, but the demands of the work hadn't quite afforded the opportunity for a closer look. Where the construction looks quite normal, iron painted black with heavy riveted welds like every other boiler he's seen, the shape appears to be wrong. Or maybe not wrong....unusual. Experimental, new boiler technology? In cross-section, this boiler is not circular, it's elliptical, wider across than it is tall. Holmes is no boiler expert, but he knows what he's seen before, and this is definitely different.

Needed again at the rail lifting tool, Holmes puts his back into it, raising one of the straight rails a foot off the pile before lowering it to the rail carrier, a sling on wheels. It's a delicate operation, and just as Holmes' crew is about to release the rail into the sling, the worker next to Holmes slips in the dirt, stumbling into the doctor, knocking him backwards. There is a clang as Holmes backs into the smaller boiler, and out of the corner of his eye, Holmes sees a small piece of something fall into the dirt near his feet.

Dr. Holmes hates every minute of this work detail, "Damn it, I'm a doctor! Not a rail man!" he thinks to himself. "That boiler sure does look odd though" During one of their short breaks he briefly walks around it. Taking in it's odd shape. But time to get back to work.

After being knocked backwards into the boiler, a curse rising to his lips, he spies the small object that has fallen from the boiler. He picks it up and turns it over in his hands, his curiosity taking over.

It dawns on the doctor as he looks at the nub of petal he's picked up, "This is one of the rivets." He turns around for a moment to look at the boiler, and a quick scan reveals what he wanted to know: one of the rivets had indeed popped off, and instead of dull, black iron underneath, there is a smooth, polished-looking white material. The bare spot is barely half an inch, but there is no mistaking the implication. The black paint and the rivets are merely a facade for whatever lies beneath.

Dr  Holmes looks around to see if anyone has noticed. He brushes himself off and pockets the rivet. He pats the worker that had slipped in the dirt, knocking him backwards, on his shoulder"Are you ok Jeb? No harm done on my end. But let's be careful. As eager as I am to be doing anything other than this, I would feel bad if someone lost a leg due to an accident with one of these rails."

"I need to show this to Wilhundt later and perhaps come back later tonight for a longer look at that boiler."

During the next break Dr Holmes heads over to Wilhundt.
"Afternoon Wilhundt. Have you perhaps noticed anything odd about the boiler sitting by the stack of rails? Besides the odd shape it seems the whole outer skin is a facade." Henry pulls out the rivet and hands it to Wilhundt. "This fell off the boiler when I fell into it earlier. Beneath is some sort of other material I've not seen before used in a boiler. I intend to come back later this evening for a better look. What say you? Will you come with me?"

The prospect intrigues me, shall we meet at the Hangry Haven at dusk?

After all the vague feelings nagging at your consciousness for the last 24 hours, it feels good to have something concrete in your sights, even if you don't understand it.

It's been an exhausting day, and many of the workers have gone home to draw themselves a hot bath, and it seems like nearly every chimney belches smoke as water is heated over fires. Not quite yet for Weigel, Holmes, and Varyu, who have returned to the Hangry Haven. The tavern is decidedly quieter, since so many workers opted for relaxed muscles over food and drink.

Wilhundt and Henry, both a little ripe from the day's work, grab a table away from the other stragglers in the tavern, joined by Fritz. From the look of it, whatever job Fritz was doing appears to have been much less taxing. He's considerably more fresh as a result.

Mrs. Wynne awoke before the whistles blew, in a pile of portraits. She straightened the portraits out as best she could and returned them to Miss Leicester’s shelf of books and craft supplies.

Mrs. Wynne’s right forearm ached – she was confounded by the cut she found there. All in all she felt out of sorts, and she sought to calm herself.

Mrs. Wynne helped herself to some bread, butter, jam and cheese. Then she dressed for work – the black onyx dress – she braided her hair, and she stole out of the flat. She did not want to be there, at least not alone. The cut on her arm unnerved her.

The horse greeted her outside, and she remembered her ride to the graveyard – but she did not remember why. “What do you remember?” she asked the horse, stroking the bridge of its nose.

Mrs. Wynne returned the horse to Churchill’s Stable, and meandered towards the Hangry Haven.

Adjacent the mail service stood the Stationery Station Shoppe. Chimes announced Mrs. Wynne’s entrance. She recognized the shopkeeper, Madam Malcolm, who frequented the Hangry Haven on occasion.

Mrs. Wynne spoke with Madam Malcolm about the weather and the stench of the slaughterhouse. Meanwhile she selected a pocket journal with the moon phases on its cover and a standard pencil.

The whistles sounded then, so Mrs. Wynne hastened her pace. She paid and left, and she headed towards the Hangry Haven. Within sight of the inn was Foxhound Fountain, where Mrs. Wynne sat on a bench and recorded in her journal the events of the previous day. Much of the details were a fog, but she remembered conversing with Varyu, Holmes, and Weigel at the Hangry Haven, even if she did not remember what they spoke of. She wrote about her journey to the graveyard and the mysterious cut on her arm.

Getting it down in words helped relax Mrs. Wynne, which is what she sought before an evening of entertaining at work. She pocketed her journal and made her way to the Hangry Haven.

The evening unfolded peacefully, which suited Mrs. Wynne. Before she opened the poker table, she was pleased to see Varyu, Holmes, and Weigel seated in the corner. She decided to attend to them to say “Hello” and see if on such a quiet night she could prolong their custom, because neither Varyu nor Holmes were regulars. She brought them a free bowl of wasabi crickets, one of the Haven’s specialties. They were delicious, and they made people thirsty for more drink.

Fritz Weigel notices the forlorn and wary looks of his compatriots. The other workers, as well. What have they been up to?

Considers telling them about his day and how taxing it was, hiding in lavatories, pretending to quality check work with a stolen clipboard, avoiding real manual labor. He's a thief. He knows it. Ain't no thief ever done hard labor, nope. He decides not to tell about the lavatory part.

How's your day been gents? What did ya do all day? Got a splinter in me thumb, stings, but the day was quite easy

He sucks his thumb, avoiding Wilhundt's eye contact and drinking his drink observing the patrons. How am I gonna get his money?

The three, Weigel, Varyu, and Holmes sit quietly at the table. Two of the men show signs of extreme fatigue, the other seems nearly fresh as the proverbial daisy. Whatever purpose may have brought them together this evening has retreated from their minds.

Mrs. Wynne approaches, presumably to take their order, but as she approaches, a hesitation in her step grabs their attention. The quizzical look on her face gives the three men. The look isn't for them, it's a look of remembrance, like she's suddenly recalled something long forgotten.

"Would you like me to take a look at that for you Fritz?" Henry has a somewhat skeptical look on his face as he asks. "But between the back breaking work of laying tracks all day and nearly being crushed due to the clumsiness of another I discovered an oddity I wish to investigate. If you are feeling....up to it Fritz... and not too tired from the days exertions, I was wondering if you and Wilhundt would investigate it with me?" As Mrs. Wynne approaches the table Dr. Holmes stands and holds out his hand in greeting. "Ahh Mrs. Wynne. Lovely to see you again. Forgive the ripeness of our table this evening. We've come from a day of hard work, some of us anyway, and have not had time to clean up. But you do look lovely this evening. Join us for a bit if you wish, before your game starts?" He pulls out a chair for her before re-seating himself.

Fritz answers, before Mrs. Wynne, I don't burgle for free.

He looks to Mrs. Wynne, "I was just explaining to these two gentlemen an oddity I had discovered today. A strangely built boiler. Perhaps just a new design. I had it in my head to go back and get a better look at it and was seeing if they wished to tag along. I require nothing to be burgled Mr. Weigel. Simply a need to satisfy my curiosity."

In order ta get in, ya need ta sneak in. In order to sneak in, ya need to burgle. Ya can’t do that without me, hence the statement, I do not burgle for free.

Fritz lights his pipe satisfied with his argument, knowing it's a moral imperative the Doctor Holmes agrees.

My good doctor, you must think me a common strumpet, though you call it a bottle of whiskey and a sack of smoke you have yourself a deal.

Fritz winks at the doc.

Mrs. Wynne, in nearing the table and locking eyes with Mr. Varyu and Dr. Holmes, had suddenly remembered the conversation of the evening before, of families.

Miss Leicester interrupted her approaching the table, grabbing her by the forearm holding the wasabi crickets to have a whispered word. Mrs. Wynne gritted her teeth, as Miss Leicester had squeezed her cut inadvertently, almost causing her to toss the bowl of crickets across the floor. “What is it?” Miss Leicester asked, catching Mrs. Wynne’s sharp intake of breath.

“I cut myself is all,” Mrs. Wynne said, as she likewise remembered her trip to the cemetery in the morning.

“You’re usually not one to get swallowed up in customers’ mischief,” Miss Leicester said. “And where Mr. Weigel is concerned, there’s mischief – as if we needed last night to provide any further indication.”

Mrs. Wynne nodded at her friend, and then approached the table anyway. Dr. Holmes had the manners to pull out a chair for her, which she accepted. He began to discuss an oddity he wished to investigate at the Milford Shirt Factory.

As the conversation around the table continued, Mrs. Wynne set down the wasabi crickets in the center of the table for the gentlemen to share and pulled out her pocket journal. She wrote down the significance of her day’s investigations, and then she addressed the table:

“Gentlemen, if you will indulge me a moment, I have spent our hours apart investigating a less tangible yet more pervasive oddity.”

She showed them her journal:

{Look around you. There are no families. There are no married couples, no children, and no babies.

If you go to the cemetery west of town, you will find that all the names on the headstones are singular. Again, there are no families. No one has family in Dorset.}

With the reading of the jounal notes, Wilhundt recalls that they had indeed discussed the cemetary and hadn't Holmes been unable to give details about his family? Even as I read your notes, I know them to be true, yet also, there is a seeming otherworldly force attemting to drive this pattern of thought from my mind.
I can focus on the idea, but only with great effort. But what does it mean? And why would it matter enough to block from our minds?

"Well when ever you two are ready to depart, but perhaps we should get some diner first." Henry reaches for the wasabi crickets, puts one to his mouth. As soon as it touches his tongue, "Nope...not for me." he pulls it back out and tries to sneak it under the table and drop it to the floor.

"I will give each of you a silver now to be gone, and another to each of you who returns when your deed is through to tell me more about this oddity, thus assuring me at the end of my shift that I need not go rescue you when my work is through. Would you care to draw me a map of where you are going in case my weary bones need to haul yours to safety?"

Wilhundt grabs a handful of crickets, happy that Holmes appears to be ignoring his share of the delicacies. Accepting the silver, and Taking the napkin and pencil that was offered for the task, he draws a quick diagram of the factory compound, including the newly laid tracks and the location of the odd shaped boiler they would be investigating.

Map complete, he turns to his companions.

"Bretheren, shall we depart?

Well gents, we've got our silver and more ta come if we make it back. Thank you Mrs. Wynne. Anyone need to return to their dwellings? Doc maybe get an aid kit in case? Wil grab a pistol, perhaps. We don't know what's there now. I've got a rough sketch in my head from today, skulking around avoiding work, but get any effects ya need and meet me on the back side. We'll walk around the building a few times, getting to know all the exits and seeing what needs to be seen. Other than that, Mrs. Wynne I'll be expecting me payment upon return.

Fritz tips his hat to all and slinks out of the pub, with a brisk jovial step, heading towards the building.

Dr. Holmes stands. Slides the silver back to Mrs. Wynne and tips his hat in her direction. "Wilhundt. See you in a few." Dr. Holmes heads for home. He quickly grabs his medical bag with medkit inside. His sharpest knife, cane, goggles and a lantern. Puts his overcoat and hat back on and heads for the factory.

Wihundt heads home, eyes the bath, opts for a quick wet sponge off of the smelliest bits and dresses in his plainest, dark, clothing. Flashy brass embellishments are are fine for work, but he thinks tonight should be about NOT being seen.  He grabs his trusty hunting knife, his most portable tinkers toolkit, a box of matches, and a candle in an ingenious hooded sleeve  in case an extended bit of focused light is needed. He eyes his pistol. Fritz suggested he bring it but Wilhundt is unsure. He's seen his share of barfights. They always escalate to the deadliest weapon on hand.

30 minutes after walking through the door, Wilhundt heads back out, a figure in a long dark flowing overcoat, what brass there is on it darkened with shoeblack. Imperceptible in it's shoulder holster is a curious 4 shot revolver.

Fritz awaits behind a tree smoking his pipe. His comrades arrive.

Neither Wilhundt nor Holmes had run into any issues getting to the pre-determined meeting spot. Each had run across a constable of the evening watch, doffing his hat as they passed. The night is quiet, a light fog rolling in from the lake to the north. The shift in the wind keeps the tannery stench at bay, and the lads have a pleasant evening for whatever tomfoolery is afoot.

From the tree where they've met, they can see the large building next to the factory, just the moonlight and one streetlight providing illumination. Currently, they see no constables. When work had wrapped up for the day, the large barn door had been closed in the front, as had the side door. Locked or unlocked, none of the three men knew for sure.

Meanwhile at the Hangry Haven, it was another quiet, midweek, relatively uneventful evening. Mrs. Wynne dealt a poker game with winners and losers. Miss Leicester served drinks and food to guests, some of whom made comments about her “bubbies,” but nothing ever came of it. The more they seemed intent on that train of thought, the more that train seemed to go off the tracks.

Guests at the inn went to their comfortable rooms with vibrating massage chairs or swaying “rock-a-bye” beds. . .and relaxed and went to sleep. They did not lock the doors behind them because they did not think to and besides, there were no locks on the doors. There was no threat in the air, no violence to resist, no reason anyone could remember to be worried or scared about anything.

Perhaps it was only Mrs. Wynne who was at all preoccupied. She was concerned for her recent table companions, but was not really sure why. They were not doing anything much wrong. They were simply being curious late at night. She did not expect any harm to come to them. She could not remember the last time any physical harm came to anyone that was not some sort of mechanical or physical accident or the result of old age or ignorance with a splash of random chaos.

Yes, Dorset was a peaceful town, which was not to be taken for granted. Mrs. Wynne did not remember why she carried her knives around - except out of some old habit?

Mrs. Wynne rose from her poker table, went to the dart arena, asked a guest to pick anywhere on the dartboard for her to hit - then let fly the dart and nailed it. The dartboard proceeded to crash to and clatter on the ground, and everybody laughed. Mrs. Wynne flexed her modest muscles, hung the dartboard back up, and returned to dealing poker.

This is what qualified as excitement in Dorset. And maybe that was not a bad thing…?

They walk towards the building.

"Oh...well there goes goes Fritz, Wilhundt. I guess we are starting at the building and looking for a way in from there. C'mon." Henry begins to follow Fritz, doing his best to mimic his movements to stay quiet and stealthy. He abruptly stops and turns back to help Wilhundt up from being face down in the dirt. "Watch out for that root Wilhundt. Now c'mon before Fritz leaves us behind " The two catch up to Fritz who is at the side door entrance to the building with the mysterious boiler. "Is it locked Fritz? Can you open it."

Hearts in their throats, the three make their way from their meeting place behind the large building towards the side door which faces the factory. No streetlamps light their way behind the building, and in the darkness, Wilhundt stumbles -- rather loudly. The others hush him, and hasten their pace to the side door. From this vantage point, the three find themselves in the shadows of a streetlight, its illumination shielded by the front corner of the building. To Fritz' trained eye, it's a good location. Only someone standing between the buildings could see them, and would need a few moments for their eyes to adjust from the street light to the shadows.

Wilhundt, concentrating more on what might be watching from 50 feet away, barely registers the hushed warning.

"oof"

Unsure if he vocalized his surprise as he hit the ground or just thought it Wilhundt realizes it probably doesn't matter. "The crack of the root and the thud of me stiking the groud were surely louder than anything that came from my mouth."

Wilhudnt picks himself up from the ground, dusting off his coat. As he does so he checks his pockets to make nothing is missing or broken. He pulls the pistol from it's holster and checks it thrice in the scant light available. Satisfied, he continues to follow Holmes and Wiegel, more intent on his immediate surroundings now than what might be watching from afar.

Fritz eases himself into the door, keeping the other two at the threshold while he observes the large room, comparing the darkened version from what he saw earlier in the day. All was still there that he could still tell. He motions the others inside, trying to remember where everything was. He could make out the shape of the boiler the doc had mentioned.

Wilhundt, follows Fritz and Holmes inside. Glancing around, it appears to be just as they had left it at the end of the day. Fritz notes the odd boiler and the three begin to move towards it. The air is heavy with the aroma of freshly disturbed earth, so much so that it tickles and teases in Wilhundt's nostrils.

"AACHOOOO!"

"sorry" he whispers, much quieter than the sneeze had been.

Freezing in place, the group listens for any tell tale that Wilhundt had been heard.

What's the point of burgl'n if you're gonna clamber about like a drunken toddler? And bless you my friend.

Fritz walks to the boiler.

What's the story with this boiler doc?

"Well the shape for one. But let me light up my lantern so we can get a better look." Dr. Holmes kneels to light his lantern and continues to say, "Then you will be able to see the odd material that I saw behind the rivet that fell off. Perhaps there is a door or panel or something that we could open or take off for a better look inside."

Knowing that his bungling surely would have alerted any watch had there been one Wilhundt had his torch in hand ready to light. He puts it away with the lighting of Henry's lantern and approaches the boiler for his 1st inspection of the object. He walks to the other side and realizes his torch may be helpful after all and lights it, opening it's iris like shroud wide and adjusting the flexible mirror within to provide a wide swath of light in front of him.

The lights fill the corner of the building where the boiler sits. The larger boiler still sits on its plinth, the rails have been laid to the large barn door. Memory of the effort makes Holmes' and Varyu's bones ache. Weigel, not so much.

On the side of the smaller boiler that faces the front door, Holmes can make out the spot where the nub had apparently come off, with the whitish and very smooth surface underneath. Running his hands over the surface, there does not appear to be any surface feature other than the hundreds of rivets. They all line up, apparently outlining panels welded and riveted together.

Occasionally, the trio pauses, listens...but hears no hint of the constables on the night watch.

Fritz lights his pipe and puffs away, thinking to himself, Is there anything I can knick in this place.

Doc, you finding what you're looking for? It's a boiler.

Fritz wanders the building, ignoring the good doctor and the hunter. Treasure calls his name. He knows it.

Wilhundt approachs the spot with the missing rivet, adjusts his torch to a more powerful pinpoint beam of light and peers inside for a moment. He then hads the torch to Henry, asking him to aim it where he's working. Wilhundt first pulls put a handkerchief and places it to catch any material prized from this boiler. A small hardend pick from his toolkit and tests the material's hardness. A file is procured and he files briefly to see if the black "paint?" can be further removed, and also to see if the white is the actual material or just a primer layer for the black. He then pulls out a small hand drill, hoping to procure a small sliver of the material for later inspection.

Wilhundt scrapes the surface of the large object. A thicker layer of what appears to be black paint flakes off into his handkerchief, exposing more white underneath. The white coloring appears to flake off, too, an almost impossibly thin layer of white. Underneath, glinting in the lantern light, is a silvery metal. Not iron, not brass, not copper....clearly different from metals commonly in use in Dorset.

Setting the small file to the surface, Varyu finds that the file doesn't quite bite into the metal the way it would with iron. He presses harder, the way he would with a sheet of brass, but the material seems harder still. He eventually gets a few shavings, though not much.

The others see Wilhundt pause, his jaw going slightly slack, like someone who had suddenly remembered the name of a friend long forgotten....

(stammering, to no one in particular)
" suit...      cumbersome...  protective?       From what?           Heat?    Cold?        Stars...  everywhere, where's the ground?     Why are the stars so bright?      Something in front of me?        Floating?      Flying?       Can't....        can't...."

Wilhudnt slowly folds the kerchief keeping the shavings trapped inside and places it back into a hidden pocket as he recovers from whatever just happened.


He glances to see if Fritz has returned.

"Henry, I...  I think that this object might be part of the mystery we have been prying from our minds.  I feel like I know what this is. I can almost picture it, but clarity is eluding me. You get nothing?"

Fritz, bored, walks over to the Doctor and Wilhundt. He taps out his pipe.

What have you found? Anything interesting? I be thinking about go on over to the office and swipe a few pieces of sil-

Fritz gets a closer look at the work Wilhundt has done to the boiler.

There's something about... What metal is that? You seen something like that before?