In a building as large as the Maierson Factory, there were numerous places Maine had found that you could hide when you needed to rest quietly and think. Quietly, of course, was a somewhat flexible word, for if there was ever a moment of true silence inside that thunderous, booming hall, it meant that something had truly gone wrong.

  She lay in one of her favorite spots, in the big rope nets above the Kraken tank. It was a good spot, well out of the way of foot traffic and affording her a wide view of the surrounding factory. The nets were used only occasionally for cleaning and transport, so they were usually dry as well, with only the faintest stink of fish. The Kraken, whom she named Nemo, also seemed glad for the company. His tank was hardly large enough for him to turn around in, and the only visitors he had were the workers who came every other morning to milk his ink, so she always made it a point to visit him when she could.

  As she reached down through the net and tickled his tentacles, Maine thought to herself, trying to decide what to do. Everything had seemed so very simple at the start: she would track down the Firstborn, rescue the family’s things, and return in triumph. Matthew would’ve handed over leadership of the Factory as he should’ve done in the first place, leaving her to run things. She’d have been able to study magic in peace and become a great witch, just like Gran. Now though, Dandy had gotten hurt, people had been killed… She shivered as the memory of that Elf boy flashed through her mind. What had gone so wrong?

  Nemo’s long body turned in the water till one of his eyes was close to the surface, and he blinked at her slowly. She trailed her hand down through the water, sighing. “Nemo, what should I do now?” Going after the Firstborn had ended up being a disaster and now Matthew seemed more intent than ever in running the Factory. How was she going to fix things now, especially that there didn’t seem to be any leads left?

  Celeste appeared walking underneath her. The Elf looked haggard, with dark circles under one eye and her face drawn. She noticed Maine and looked up quickly. “Hey! Hey, Maierson! Come down here for a second, I need your help!”

  Maine swung in the net, not moving. “What is it?” she asked glumly.

  “None of your damn people will talk to me! I need fresh linens and water. And where’s the food? They said we’d be getting meals on the regular, but we haven’t seen anything yet!”

  Maine gave a great sigh and started to climb down. “Okay… Who’s in charge right now?”

  “I don’t know! Some big Elf, he won’t talk to me!”

  Maine followed her over to where they had set up a temporary clinic. Cots and blankets had been spread out wherever there was space, which led to some unusual arrangements, especially since Dwyer had insisted that the work not be stopped. There were quotas to be met after all.

  The old Foreman was already fretting as he walked along the assembly line, shouting as he saw Maine come into view. “Maine! Maine! You’ve got to do something!” he said, running up to her.

  “What is it now?” she asked, then blinked and stared as a bandaged Goblin rolled by on the nearest assembly line. The workers on the line lifted their tired hands and tools away as he rolled by, giving a snore and turning over slightly as the line carried him out of view. “Is that safe?” she asked.

  Dwyer looked back and waved his hand. “Oh sure, I told them to switch the line over when he comes to a junction, he won’t wind up in the blasters or anything,” he said impatiently, before pulling her in another direction. “Maine, you got to do something about these Firstborn!”

  “Matthew already made his decision–,” she started to say, but he shushed her.

  “No! I can’t don’t care about that!” He gave Celeste a suspicious look and pulled Maine closer. “They’re talking to our workers,” he hissed at her. “You’ve got to stop them!”

  “What’s the harm in a little talk?” Celeste asked, making Dwyer shoot her a glare.

  “You’re putting ideas in their heads, that’s the harm!”

  “What ideas?” Maine asked innocently, but he refused to say. He simply shook his head, backing away quickly and throwing Celeste dirty looks.

  “Dangerous ideas, mark my words! You need to get them out of here!”

  Celeste shook her head as they watched him hurry off. “Typical. Lots of people have got room for one idea in their head, and the minute you try and show them something new, they act like you’re bringing the whole world down.” Maine hummed, not really understanding.

  A little further up the Factory floor they found Cherwood sitting at his station, head bent over a mirror frame. Shards of glass were spread out along the floor around him, each piece labeled with care. It looked like he was painstakingly trying to assemble the mirror back together again, like assembling a jigsaw puzzle.

  “Cherwood!” Maine called, shouting to make herself heard over the noise of the line. The Elf jumped and the mirrored glass he was holding slipped out of his hands, shattering on the floor. He sighed and began to make out three new labels.

  “Hullo, Maine. What’s the matter?”

  “The same thing that was the matter thirty minutes ago,” Celeste snapped. “We need water and food! And where’s the fresh linens?”

  “I said I’d get to them in a minute,” he told her placatingly, already picking up another piece of glass. “I just need to finish up this part first…”

  “Can you do it now?” Maine asked.

  “But–” he looked pleadingly at the fragments spread around him.

  “Please? Then you can go back to your project,” she promised. He sighed and started to climb to his feet.

  “Alright, I’ll get it done.”

  “Thank you, Cherwood.”

  Celeste however was frowning as they watched him lumber off. “Bastard Maierson,” she muttered.

  “He just gets very focused on things,” Maine told her. “Come to me or Dwyer if you need anything in the future.” The Elf sniffed, walking off, leaving Maine unsure if she would really do so. She lingered around the Firstborn for a while, checking to see if there was anything else Cherwood had delayed in getting them. The mood she found was surprisingly upbeat. Paicus and his staff had done their jobs well, most the Firstborn seemed stable, if not entirely comfortable, in their new clinic, and he’d even approved for some family visits. There were children now running along inside the Factory, playing in the sparks that fell from the Forge mouth high above them or gazing at the incredible creatures in the milking pens.

  Maine saw a group of them gathered nearby, watching the items roll past on the assembly line, and waved for them to come closer. She pulled Ifri’s lantern off her belt and set it down, opening up the lid. The little kitten jumped out in a flash of light, startling the children and making them laugh. Maine grabbed a small piece of coal off the ground and held it out to them, showing them how to feed him. They gathered near, laughing as Ifri happily ate out of their hands, even turning over and letting them pet his stomach.

  She watched them play for a time, then noticed a huddled group of workers nearby. They were gathered around Vaux, who speaking quickly. Maine approached them quietly, not wanting to be seen. “That’s the power of organization, my friends,” he was telling them. “When you approach them in numbers, they have to listen to you, to respect you!” He leaned closer, they all shuffled forwards, straining to hear. “Tell me, when was the last time you had a pay raise?”

  One of the workers snorted loudly. “When was the last time we had steady pay?” he complained. The others shifted nervously and one called him out.

  “Don’t say that! Time’s are tough! We all have to sacrifice for the company.” They all nodded in agreement, but Vaux shook his head.

  “Sacrifice for the company? Now there is a dangerous notion!” he told them. “Is a company going to sacrifice for you? When your child is sick, is the company going to come round and inquire about him? Is it going to do your chores for you when you’re not able? No, a company can’t do any of those things! It can’t care, it can't pray, and it certainly can’t sacrifice. The only things that can are the people that make it up - and so you have to ask yourselves, when there’s sacrificing to be done, why are you doing all the work?” The crowd of workers began to look nervous, glancing nervously around as he went on, but they huddled closer just the same, unable to stop listening.

  “Look at the mansion, right next door. I wonder how much money goes into that place, all the staff and food? Yet, I don’t see them having to sacrifice - I don’t see Mr Maierson there taking on a second job. And why not - because he has you to do all that sacrificing for him!”

  He slammed his fist into his hand, making them jump. “That’s why you need organization! Unions - collective bargaining! Take the power back into your own hands! And I know just how to help you!” Pamphlets appeared from out of his coats like magic, and he spread them around eagerly. “Let’s start at the beginning, learning how not working is the best path to smart working.”

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Maine frowned, and was about to speak up when someone behind her cleared their throat. It was Marsha, standing propped up against a piece of machinery, looking gray-faced and tired. She smiled with a wince of pain. “Aw, let them talk. Unless you’re afraid of a little disruption?”

  “Are you supposed to be up yet?” Maine asked.

  “No, Paicus was very clear,” she admitted, “but I’ve never been one to listen to Doctors before.” She shifted her weight slightly, almost falling, and Maine moved closer to catch her instinctually. Marsha managed to recover in time though and flashed the girl a smile. She shuffled over awkwardly to a crate and sat down. “The one thing that I hate more than listening to Doctors is sitting still. I think you might understand that one a bit.”

  Maine hid a smile and nodded slightly. “What are you going to do now?” she asked.

  “Take back Gravesend,” Marsha said at once. “That hasn’t changed.” She closed her eyes and was silent long enough that Maine thought she might’ve passed out, but she spoke up suddenly. “We’ll need to call in all our people, everyone who can hold a weapon. Maybe even reach out to some of the gangs, call in some favors. We need numbers.”

  Maine remembered all too well. “Trimble has a lot of men. What about Tilly? Her people could help you.”

  She shook her head. “Last time we asked for her help, she wanted Gravesend in payment. I’m not trading it from one tyrant to another.”

  “Would she really be that bad?” Maine asked. “She seems to care about her people.”

  “It’s my home!” the big woman said stubbornly. “I’m not giving it up!” She winced and sat back again, breathing heavily.

  “I never had a place that accepted me till I came here,” she told Maine. “Even before I found myself, made terms with what I am, this place was there for me. The people took me in, gave me shelter, friends, even a family. And I swear I’m never gonna let anyone take it from me, not Trimble, not Tilly, not even you and your brother,” she smirked.

  With effort, the big woman pushed herself back up on her feet. Even wounded as she was, bloodied, bruised she seemed to tower over Maine. Maybe. Maine considered, she really did have Giant blood in her.

  “What are you gonna do?” she asked Maine.

  “I don’t know,” she admitted.

  “Then take a little advice,” she told her. “Always act like you’ve got a plan, even when there’s not one. Prepare, marshal your strengths, keep your ears open, and then, when an idea presents itself, you’ll be ready.” She nodded and started to slowly limp back towards the clinic. Maine watched her go silently.

  Behind her, Vaux’s discussion group was wrapping up. “So you see - that’s the benefit of unions! They allow you to create rules so that you work safer, and get your fair share of the profits in the bargain!” Most of the workers applauded, looking quite convinced, but there were a few detractors.

  “I still don’t know,” one Goblin complained. He was holding his hat in his hands and tearing nervously at the hem.

  “What’s the problem, Brother Addert?” Vaux asked. Addert shrugged, but one of the other workers answered for him.

  “He thinks he’s gonna be the next Foreman! As if an Elder’s ever been promoted that high.” There was a round of laughter from the other workers, but Addert stuck out his chin.

  “So what if an Elder’s ever been promoted! I’m already assistant to the assistant shift manager, and I know all the rules and regulations. Dwyer talks to me every shift, checks in with me.” He stood up proudly, puffing his tiny chest out. “I help keep this place running!”

  “You make sure the floor is scrubbed and all the tools are properly sorted,” another worker laughed. He nudged Vaux, pointing at Addert. “All this one knows is rules and regulations, you can’t put a toe out of line without him complaining! Is there a place in your union for a worker like that?”

  Vaux’s eyes were shining however. He embraced Addert warmly and wrapped his arm around his shoulders. “Oh, there's definitely a place for a worker like you!”

  There was a shout from the yard, and Maine turned suddenly. Matthew was back, she could see his wagon pulling in through the gate. Workers dropped their tools and ran to meet him, even some of the Firstborn hurried over. Maine rushed to follow them.

  A crowd had already gathered as the gates swung shut behind the wagon. Dwyer pushed his way through. “Give him space, people! Come’on!” Slowly they pulled back as the Forge Workers jumped down. Maine shoved her way to the front of the crowd, looking up at her brother excitedly. Then her smile faded away.

  Matthew’s face was drawn and haggard as he climbed down. He caught his sister’s gaze and flinched away, unable to say anything.

  Celeste pushed her way through, looking up into the wagon. “Well? Where are they?”

  Thumbell was still perched up on the driver’s seat. He took off his cap and held it in his hands. “Trimble’s men found the safehouse,” he said haltingly. “Don’t know how.”

  Celeste’s mouth opened in shock.

  “They killed all our men.”

  Maine put her hand to her mouth, hardly noticing as Ifri climbed up her back, hopping onto her shoulder. “And Henna?”

  “They took her,” Matthew said bluntly. He slammed his fist into the wagon. “They took her!”

  She stared at him. “What would they want Henna for?”

  “I don’t know!” he exploded. “Why would they want her?” He pulled his hair, almost frantic. “I’ve got to think,” he muttered, starting to stagger towards the Factory.

  “Mr Maierson! Oh, Mr Maierson!” a voice called. It was one of Seward’s clerks, several of his clerks actually, running towards the yard. They had folders and ledgers in their hands, waving them excitedly. “We need to discuss the funding for the next quarter!”

  Another chimed in, “Yes, and we’ve received several telegrams from our clients who have still not received their orders!”

  “As well as reminders from our creditors about non-payments. They were very emphatic!”

  Matthew waved his hands, promising, “I’ll get to them! I’ll get to them! I just need a minute to think here–”

  A small Gnome shoved his way to the front of the pack. “This one can’t wait, sir!” He shoved a telegram into Matthew’s hands as the other clerks drew back, looking gray-faced and silent.

  Matthew sighed and looked down at the telegram for a moment. Slowly, the blood started to drain from his face and he sagged.

  Dwyer ran forwards to catch him. “Get him water!” he called to the anxious crowd. As they tried to revive her brother, Maine crept forwards and picked the telegram up off the ground. Here is what it read:

  MR MAIERSON STOP

  HAVE BEEN IN CONTACT WITH SEWARD SILEECE ABOUT MATTER OF MADELYN MAEIRSON’S ‘SPECIAL PROJECT’ STOP

  THIS MATTER IS OF GRAVE IMPORTANCE TO US STOP

  DO NOT SELL ITEM TO OTHER BUYER STOP

  DO NOT HAND OVER ITEM TO GOVERNMENT BODY STOP

  WILL BE ARRIVING IN TWO DAYS TO ARRANGE TRANSFER STOP

  DO NOT ATTEMPT TO INTERFERE STOP

  SENERA STRABOS - HEIR TO DRAGONFYRE INDUSTRIES STOP

  “Oh dear,” she said, brows furrowing.

  Dwyer stared at her. “What is it?” She handed the telegram over and he scanned it quickly, still looking confused. “What’s this about? Who’s Senera Strabos? What’s Dragonfyre got to do with this?”

  “Nothing good,” she told him.

  Matthew was starting to come out of his daze. “We need to… we need to..” he muttered. Dwyer looked down at him worriedly, then up at the clerks.

  “Let’s get him inside! Lay him down upstairs!” They started to carry him bodily back into the house. The rest of the workers milled around, staring confusedly to each other. Marsha’s words rang in Maine’s head as she watched them.

  Carefully, she took a strong stance, hands on her hips, just as she’d seen her Grandmother do. “Well, what are you standing around for?” she yelled to them. “You’ve all got jobs to do, so let’s do them!” They stared at her, blinking in surprise, but slowly a few began nodding. She beamed inwardly, this leadership thing wasn’t as hard as she thought.

  She took a deep breath and went on. “I’m in charge while my brother’s recuperating, so–”

  “NO!” Her brother jerked upright, almost leaping from the arms of Dwyer and the clerks. “No! I’m fine! She’s not in charge!”

  Maine almost stopped her feet. What was it going to take to make him let go?

  “No you’re not! You’re delirious!” she insisted, but he still came thundering down the steps towards the yard, all signs of faintness gone. He grabbed Maine’s hand and shoved her towards Dwyer, Ifri yowling as he held on.

  “Take my sister upstairs into the house, make sure she stays here,” he commanded him.

  “What?!” she shouted.

  “Tomorrow, you’re going back to your school!” he informed her. “I don’t care if you’ve been expelled, it’s safer for you to be there than anywhere in the City!”

  “You have to be joking!”

  The look on her brother’s face was far from humorous. “Pack your bags,” he told her. “You’re leaving on the first train tomorrow morning! Dwyer!”

  Maine shouted and kicked, but the old foreman carried her bodily up into the house without another word. The servants hid as they heard her coming, even Miss Imi refused to show her face. Only Kelphin dared to speak as he locked her in. “There! And please stay put this time!”

  They had learned from last time. Not only was the door securely locked, but all the windows had been sealed shut, even the tiny cat door she’d made.

  “You can’t keep me in here!” she shouted, as she pulled helplessly at the door knob. “I’ll– I’ll– burn the place down!”

  Ifri cocked his head at her curiously. “Well, not really,” Maine told him, slightly huffing. “I don’t think that’ll help.”

  She started to pace around the room, considering her options. Was there a magic spell that could open the door? Probably dozens, but of course she didn’t know any of them by heart, not enough to draw the runes. Could she loosen the bolts in the hinges? Not without tools but they were all in the Factory. As she fretted and thought, Ifri jumped onto her bed, nosing curiously at a canvas sack lying on top of it.

  Mrrow??

  She glanced over irritably, then froze. “What?”

  Ifri was pawing at the sack, tugging it open. Items began to spill out onto her bed - familiar items. A coiled length of silver wire, a brass skull binoculars, a dried phoenix claw. These were the items that Fink had stolen!

  Ifri looked up at her curiously as she continued to dig through the bag. How had these items gotten here? Had Fink returned them? Gotten back into the mansion somehow? But why? Why risk everything to do so?

  Her hands suddenly closed against paper, and she pulled out a folded sheet. It was a letter.

  Lady Tilly and the Firstborn, you continue to impress, Maierson.

  Sorry for getting off on the wrong foot, but I think we can help each other.

  Meet me at Grubs, 9am sharp

  I’ll hold a table for you, partner.

  As she read the last word, the paper suddenly twitched in her hand. A rune flashed on the back, and the paper began to burn, crinkling and turning to ash in a moment. Maine stared down at the dust settling on her bed, her mind suddenly racing.