Albus LeBon lived in a town house on the edge of Hightown. The structures along Scone Street were uniformly broad and squat in design, with white brick walls and sloping black tile roofs. Smaller than those of the large manors to be found in Hightown, but marginally larger than anything to be seen in Lowtown.

  Finding it had not been too hard. Pearl had connections throughout Sentinel, many who could get access to such information if she asked nicely. LeBon (occasionally called 'Loony LeBon' by such informants) had enough infamy that the information about the man came relatively cheap. Coin lingered across the seat, staring at the house and stroking his chin.

  Every window had the curtains drawn. And the door looked distinct compared to those on the other houses. It was a burly iron thing, with hinges that looked as if they could rebuff a blow from a warhammer utterly unscathed.

  Was that new, or had it always been there?

  LeBon had only regained his freedom recently, after all. No doubt the man was worried he'd be snatched up by the Brotherhood again. Or just killed.

  It was as Coin examined the building that he gradually noticed a few figures in the crowd that seemed to stand out from everyone else. A flower merchant who stole regular glances at LeBon's home. A preacher in a nearby alley who had a vague hint of a knife handle hidden beneath his cloak. The same sharply dressed man, going on a leisurely stroll around the town houses, time and again, always giving a brief glance to LeBon's home.

  Coin watched them, a frown on his face.

  Brotherhood spies? Agents of Velasco, keeping an eye on the man? Something was up.

  Coin crossed the street, regardless, well aware that some of those enigmatic figures were stealing glances at him. He gave the door a few quick knocks, the reinforced steel thudding noisily under his fist.

  There was no response for some time. Until, eventually, a hatch was slid aside to reveal a panicked pair of eyes. They stared up at Coin for several long moments. "Ah... it's you. My dashing hero."

  "Hello, Albus," Coin said. "Would you mind letting me in?" Sneaking in another way was still possible, but it would be harder with people actively staking out his home.

  "Are you... alone?"

  "As far as I know," Coin replied. He winced as the artisan's glare intensified. "Yes, I'm alone."

  A lock clicked as it came undone. Then another, and another, and then another five, before the door slowly pulled open. Coin glimpsed a few of the latches and bolts on the other side of the door. Certainly, anyone trying to break in would be in for a hell of a challenge if they tried the door. On the other hand, LeBon would be up a creek if a fire broke out and he had to flee his home in a hurry.

  Coin stepped inside and watched as Albus quickly relocked his door. He couldn't help but notice the weapon clutched in the artisan's other hand. A firearm, clearly, with a broad funnel-shaped barrel. Getting a better look at the man up close, Coin could see that his eyebrows appeared to have been drawn on.

  "Apologies for the paranoia. With everything that has happened to me? Well, I am... wary of the outside world now." He paused, seeing where Coin was staring. "Ah, this? A prototype of sorts. It was originally designed with monster-slaying in mind. Able to blast shrapnel at speed, shredding through tough hides and even armour. I call it a grape shot. The ammo, you see, it's like a bushel of grapes when you slide it into the barrel. And no, my captors do not know of it."

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  Coin stared at it, wondering at the amount of black powder that thing would take before it opened fire. Anyone faced with a shot from it would probably be shaved into a fine red mist.

  "I take it nobody has bothered you since you got free?"

  "No. I met with Velasco, explained what had happened... without mentioning you. Then he let me go. But I think he has people watching my home."

  Coin nodded, deciding there was no need to tell LeBon how right he was. The poor man already looked haggard and stressed. No doubt he feared closing his eyes and waking up in another cell. Or with an assassin looming over his bed.

  He sighed. "Well, that all said, would you like to join me for some tea?"

  "I suppose." It could hardly be worse than coffee.

  They walked down the main hallway of LeBon's home, past many boxes filled to the brim with mechanical parts. Some of them were in tact, others had been warped and blackened by immense heat. Pictures were hung upon the walls, diagrams and sketches of things Coin couldn't even fathom. And they seemed to grow progressively more complex.

  LeBon's kitchen was even more chaotic. The counters had an assortment of machines hooked up to them. Mechanical arms covered in plates of segmented steel, joined up to large cannister-shaped machines by assorted wires. The artisan approached one, turned a great brass key, and suddenly the mechanical arm clicked and rumbled to life.

  Coin stared, dumbstruck, as the limb pulled a pair of cups from a nearby cupboard, and then started a fire in the hearth to boil the kettle. "What... is that?"

  "Hm? Ah... it's part of a larger project I've been working on," LeBon said tonelessly. "Mechanical men. Servants of steel and porcelain that can be mass produced. Only," he gestured to the large cannister, hissing and puffing steam as the arm worked away. "I could never devise a smaller power source. I've been researching different avenues but... ah. Never mind all that. Did you need something from me?"

  "Your help, if you're willing." Coin didn't take his eye off the mechanical arm, watching as it jerked and shifted, setting up all the equipment it needed beside the two cups. It did not seem to be thinking, Coin noted. It was like the machine was moving through a series of pre-designed actions.

  LeBon smiled faintly. "I owe you much, my friend. Of course I'll do what I can for you."

  "Then... how good are you with boats?"

  The question made the artisan tilt his head. "Boats?"

  "You know..." Coin held a hand out, miming it bobbing up and down on waves. "Boats. They go on water and... do that."

  "Well, yes, I'm familiar with the mechanics. It's just... not a request I expected." The arm twisted, clicking and grinding from every move, and slowly pulled the steaming kettle out. It filled two cups and diligently worked on preparing the tea. "Are you a fisherman?"

  Coin shook his head. "It's a long story," and no doubt an insane story to anyone who had not seen what Coin had seen, "but I need a fast ship that I can sail without a crew, and little sailing experience."

  LeBon gave him a flat look. "That is... a tall order." He took a seat, drumming his fingers on the table. The rumbling of the arm, and the hissing of the steaming cannister, provided a continuous background noise. "But... I have been tinkering with a mechanical boat of sorts. I sort of abandoned the idea when the hand cannon came to my mind, but the general idea is sound."

  "Mechanical boat?" Coin asked, pulling up a chair.

  His host nodded, gesturing to the cannister powering the movements of the arm. "That engine? It's powered by boiling water, generating steam to move the interior pistons." He stopped, noticing the blank look on Coin's face. "Er, well, suffice to say it's a useful mechanism. The only issue is that the specifications need to be extremely precise. If the engine were to malfunction, it would explode. And the boiling steam would kill anyone unfortunate enough to be nearby."

  Coin scooched his chair a few inches away.

  "I never spoke to anyone about it, because the machinery is still in a planning stage of sorts. The boat is one of the applications I've considered for it." Once the arm stopped moving, he turned it off and cam back with two steaming cups. "That it could power a means of propulsion, removing the need for sails and a reliance on wind. The proposed boat would still have sails, in case the engine were damaged or malfunctioning. But... well this was largely just an idea I had. And it was benched when I found myself locked away by a gang of brigands."

  "Ah... Understandable." Coin sipped his tea. It actually tasted alright. "But... that sounds incredible. And exactly the kind of boat I need. You're an amazing mind, Albus." A shame that said amazing mind had been weaponised by the worst kind of people. Still, Coin thought, if these engines could be mass produced, they were a prime money making opportunity.

  The older man shrugged. "Just an idea, really. Never even made half of a prototype."

  "And... how long would it take for you to build a functioning one? I can pay you handsomely for your work and materials."

  "Oh, er... I suppose a week and a half? For a prototype, at least."

  "How about... two and a half, for a fully functioning one?"

  LeBon stared at him in silence, his mouth opening and closing a few times. Then, one by one, Coin reached into his coat and pulled out stack after stack of Fiodor's coins, until the table was laden with them. It was a neat trick, giving the illusion that he was reaching into some very deep pockets of his coat.

  Eventually LeBon sighed. "I... do owe you my life, I suppose. I'll do what I can."