By the time Lydia woke Cobalt up, the Oni was dressed and fully prepared to disembark the train. All of their hand luggage was sitting ready by the door, and when Cobalt groggily rolled out of bed, he saw that his clothes had already been picked out for the day. Sunlight was streaming through the cabin windows, and as he yawned, he noted that the radiators were emitting a soft hum.

  “Good morning, Master Cobalt. We’ll be pulling into the hub in around an hour,” Lydia explained, setting a few slices of dried beef out on a plate for him.

  His eyes widened. Scrambling for his cane, Cobalt nearly tripped over himself in an effort to get to the window. Beyond lay a landscape entirely different to what he was used to.

  All around, he could see rocks and ice. The jagged teeth of the mountains bordering the continent of Silatned lined the near horizon as the Rimebound Express roared along tracks suspended upon a high concrete bridge. Far below, he could see multi-laned highways cutting through the mountainous wasteland, each absolutely jam-packed with cars despite the early hour. There were more vehicles on those roads than there were people in the entirety of Brimstone town, and when he craned his neck to get a peek of their destination, it was clear to see why.

  Furnace. It was just ahead, slightly obscured by the morning mist. A vast city carved out of the mountains’ peaks and valleys; a true testament to the will of the demons who first settled upon it. Grand skyscrapers rose high into the sky, competing with the ancient black iron smokestacks that won the northern metropolis its moniker. The largest stack of all dominated the skyline; a chimney of epic proportions, taller even than some of the buildings around it.

  “Its huge…” Cobalt breathed, staring wide-eyed at the looming city.

  “Furnace sports a large area. It extends from the mountains all the way down the Airocs River,” Lydia explained, remaking the bed behind him.

  The Airocs… One of the grand rivers of Hell, rivalling even the legendary Cocytus in the West Country. It supposedly weaves its way through each of the mountains like an unnatural streak of red amidst the white, before cutting downwards through the eastern reaches of Aporue and splitting off to reach the ocean.

  “It’s the middle of the morning, and yet all those lights…” Cobalt murmured, squinting at the glints in the distance.

  “You need to prepare yourself, young master. Miss Violet has instructed her contact to meet us in the transport hub, and it wouldn’t do to keep him waiting.”

  “A- Ah, right… Violet’s friend. Wexford, was it?” he asked, turning from the window.

  The maid just tapped the plate, urging him to eat his breakfast. Nodding, the Incubus hobbled over and wolfed it down as quickly as he could before heading to the bathroom for his morning routine. Yet throughout his shower and as he brushed his teeth, he found himself brimming with excitement now that his nerves had finally settled. From here on, everything would be new to him. And so modern, too; compared to a place like Phrodival, the city of Furnace was borderline futuristic!

  Once fed, cleaned and clothed, Cobalt strapped his knee brace on and returned to the window to find that the train had entered the city limits, and was whizzing over streets upon an elevated rail line. He could see streets, alleys, avenues, cars, trams, vents, manholes… and thousands upon thousands of demons, of every stripe, colour and background. Despite the frigid wastes surrounding the city, Furnace looked positively balmy; many of the demons on street level were dressed for warm weather, and the shining sun almost made Cobalt forget how far north they were.

  “How do they do it? It should be freezing up here!” he breathed, leaving fog all over the glass.

  “It has something to do with the city’s ancient furnaces. Devil-made, they keep the place temperate. So it says on their promotional material,” Lydia responded, squinting at a pamphlet on the cabin table as she handed Cobalt his jacket.

  Absolutely fascinating.

  Making a mental note to investigate further once he was properly established, Cobalt grabbed what he was allowed – Lydia didn’t want him carrying anything heavier than his satchel – and followed her out towards the train’s exit doors. A few other passengers gave him astounded looks as he passed, but the Oni by his side was enough to deter them from trying to approach. Before long, the train pulled into the station and came to a stop, whereupon the tannoy buzzed and began to speak.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, we have finally arrived at our destination, the Furnace City Transport Hub. Please ensure you take all of your belongings with you, and take care when disembarking the train. Have a lovely day, and thank you for travelling with us.”

  The doors hissed open, and the pair stepped out onto an incredibly busy train platform. Demons of all kinds were bustling too and fro, talking and shouting in an effort to hear one another over the din of departing and arriving trains, all the while conductors tried to keep the place somewhat orderly. With one of Lydia’s hands planted firmly on his back, Cobalt steadily made his way out through the station, though it was difficult going. The crowd was oceanic, and he wasn’t the tallest of demons.

  “Lot of people,” he commented, taking care not to prod anyone with his cane.

  “This hub links the train station, airport and the taxi rank together.”

  “How do planes take off with such tall buildings around?”

  “Technology is a marvellous thing, young master.”

  His cheeks burned. Cobalt might have been the erudite young mind back home, but here he was just another bumpkin from the sticks.

  As they made their way through sleek concourses lined with cafes and tourist trap giftshops, he noticed that he was getting a lot of looks. Strange, curious stares, but not outright shock. They were gawking because he was an Incubus, not because he was the Incubus.

  He smiled. A little anonymity – no matter how slight – was always comforting.

  “It’s nice to be kind of a nobody,” he told Lydia, glancing back as she dragged their luggage along.

  “Take care, Master Cobalt. There’s still the risk someone could put your name and face together.”

  “R- Right… Where are we meeting this Wexford guy?”

  “Easternmost exit, towards a ‘43rd Street’.”

  “No names?”

  “No names.”

  “That’s… just…?”

  “Just numbers, young master.”

  “… Mathematics was not my strongest subject.”

  “Lucky you need not multiply the streets, then.”

  He looked back at her. Was that… a joke? From Lydia?

  “Apologies. I meant no offence,” she quickly corrected.

  “You don’t have to apologise for making a joke, Lydia.”

  “It was at your expense.”

  “Yeah, but I’m not-”

  “It won’t happen again.”

  Cobalt sighed.

  “Okay…”

  A little put-off, they nevertheless eventually found the transport hubs’ western exit and stepped out into the loud, bustling streets of Furnace. Sure enough, though he could still feel an ever-so-slight nip in the air, it was warmer than Cobalt expected. The noise was loud enough to make his head spin, and everywhere he looked he could see flashing advertisement boards and bright window displays.

  “Amazing…” Cobalt breathed, taking a step forward towards the edge of the footpath.

  Lydia made to grab his shoulder, but someone beat him to it. From amidst the pedestrians all around, a pitch-toned hand grabbed the Incubus’ arm and roughly pulled him back from the edge of the path right as a double-decker bus pulled up. He turned to try and thank his saviour, only to be swept off his feet as Lydia pulled him into a protective embrace. Scattering their luggage everywhere, she reached forward with a magically charged hand and incanted in a clear, angry tone.

  “Oitargalfnoc.”

  Hot blue embers surged forth from the Oni, engulfing the stranger and forcing him to remain perfectly still as they flickered along the edges of his shirt and danced across his skin. A little dizzy from the sudden movement, Cobalt looked up to see a neatly dressed Fallen man standing with his hands raised in surrender, clearly aware that he was the victim of a particularly dangerous spell. He was tall, with a pair of stony grey wings folded upon his back. Sparks weaved their way through his greyish hair, though despite the clear danger, his sleepless green eyes remained focused upon the two demons before him.

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  “… I meant no offence,” he said in a deep, clear voice.

  “No-one lays a hand on the young master. Not on my watch,” Lydia responded just as clearly, raising her burning fingers aloft, ready to snap them at a moment’s notice.

  Cobalt looked around, worried that they were making a scene.

  “Trigger-based magic activation?” the Fallen asked, looking at the embers surrounding him.

  “One command, and you’ll be immolated.”

  “That’s… impressive.”

  “I could give you the axe if you prefer.”

  “Lydia!” Cobalt chided, suddenly finding his voice, “what are you doing?! Leave him be!”

  “I think we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot here,” the Fallen began, lowering his hands.

  “Raise them,” Lydia urged.

  “Lydia!”

  “But-”

  “Come on! I’m fine, alright? He was just looking out for me!”

  “It’s not a bad idea to be suspicious. People here are more likely to pickpocket you than help you,” the stranger added, causing the Oni to furrow her brow.

  She released her grip on Cobalt, but didn’t dispel the sparks.

  “… Name,” she commanded.

  “Andre Castrel.”

  “I don’t know that name.”

  “Then why did you ask me?”

  “Less of the backchat,” Lydia demanded, causing the flames upon her fingers to spark angrily.

  Having had enough of this, Cobalt pushed his way between the pair. Immediately, she dispelled her magic, allowing the poor Fallen to catch his breath.

  “I am so sorry about her, sir. We’re new here, and there’s someone supposed to meet us here, and-”

  He raised his hand and adjusted his shirt.

  “Don’t worry about it. You’re coming in from Brimstone, right?”

  “How… did you know?”

  “Well. It’s kind of obvious, no? An Incubus with a cane blowing in with a maid-slash-bodyguard in tow; it’s not very conspicuous.”

  Sweat began to run down Cobalt’s back.

  “I… are you… looking for us?”

  He shrugged.

  “In a sense. I told you my name was Andre. That’s true enough; on my birth cert and all. But most folks around here call me Wexford. Don’t ask why.”

  The Fallen reached forward, offering him his hand. Immediately, relief washed over the Incubus as he shook Wexford’s hand.

  “Oh, thank goodness. You’re Violet’s friend, right?”

  “The one and only. Even so, we’re more acquaintances.”

  “Is that so? How did you meet?”

  Shaking his head, Wexford waved Cobalt’s questions aside as he gestured for him and Lydia to follow him down the street. He kept a leisurely pace despite his longer legs, and spoke over his shoulder as they walked.

  “Questions for another time. Right now, let’s just focus on getting you out of the city centre. No-one really knows you’re here yet, but news travels fast, and I’d rather get you squared away before the vultures descend, you know?”

  He spoke quickly and articulately, though that didn’t stop Cobalt’s head from spinning.

  “I… I think?”

  “Grand so. Keep close; I wasn’t joking about pickpockets.”

  “Don’t worry, young master. If anyone tries, I’ll be sure to part them from their hands,” Lydia said to him, though she didn’t sound terribly reassuring.

  Crossing a wide street, Wexford led them down multiple streets and avenues, occasionally passing over or beneath them in order to reach wherever he was leading the pair. Cobalt quickly found himself growing tired, though unwilling to irritate his guide, he kept his complaints to himself and soldiered on. Eventually, the Fallen instructed them to board and intercity bus, allowing them to catch their breath.

  “Where… where are we headed?” Cobalt asked breathlessly, leaning against his cane as Lydia passed him a bottle of water.

  “Downriver, heading for the Mancer District,” Wexford replied, turning in his seat.

  “Mancer…?”

  “Used to be a town of its own, before the city swallowed it. Island in the middle of the river. Old-style; you’ll love it from what I’ve heard.”

  “But what is it?”

  Wexford gave him a sly smile.

  “Your new home. Settle in; we’ve still got a ways to go.”

  -----

  Three buses, two subways, an intercity tram and a lot of walking. And they still weren’t at their destination.

  Cobalt felt about ready to die. This city was big. Too big. He feared he would collapse into pieces before he reached the Mancer District, but according to Wexford the route they were taking was the most cost-effective. Attempting to take a taxi from the Transport Hub straight there would cost well into the hundreds.

  Thankfully, the Fallen eventually deigned to stop for lunch at a riverside café, allowing him to finally rest his poor aching feet. It was a nice place, close to a small dock on the shore of the Airocs, which in of itself was a mighty sight. The blood-red waters surged wide and powerfully, to the point where Cobalt had to squint in order to see the other side. It seemed like everything was bigger in Furnace.

  “I’ll go place our orders. Cobalt, you’re a tea man, right?” Wexford asked, setting his bag down on one of the chairs.

  “I used to be, I think…” the Incubus answered sadly.

  The Fallen’s eyes widened.

  “Ah. Right, sorry, I forgot about that. Milk, then?”

  “Yes please.”

  “And for you…?”

  He turned to face Lydia. Though her face was as still and stoic as ever, her eyes told a different story entirely. They burned straight into Wexford as she refused to give an answer, forcing Cobalt to intervene.

  “She’ll have a black tea. Thank you, Mr. Castrel,” he said.

  “Please, Wexford is fine. Back in a moment.”

  With that, he stepped into the café, leaving the pair alone at their table. Taking a deep breath of the surprisingly fresh air, Cobalt stared out at the river and watched as boats coursed up and down its length as opportunistic birds winged down from above to steal food from those walking along the shore.

  “I don’t trust our guide,” Lydia said, folding her arms.

  “Why not? He’s been perfectly nice.”

  Her gaze narrowed.

  “Once we reach our accommodation I would like to perform a background check.”

  Cobalt’s eyes widened as he stared at the Oni.

  “I- Is that really necessary? He’s Violet’s friend!” the Incubus asked in a hushed tone.

  “Even so. I don’t wish to take chances, young master.”

  Perturbed by his maid’s paranoia, Cobalt sat back and waited for Wexford to return with their drinks, each of which was served in a fancy branded mug. Setting them down on the table, he took a seat and leaned forward, hands steepled before him.

  “So. Furnace. Thoughts?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

  Cobalt stared out at the scenery all around him. It was a far cry from Brimstone, even with the Tempered Bastion dominating the skyline. That being said, it was nice to be out of its shadow.

  “It’s huge,” was all Cobalt could say.

  “Nothing like the country, is it?” Wexford said with a smile, sipping his tea.

  “Not at all.”

  “You remind me of a friend. He was from the sticks too, had absolutely no idea how to cope when he first arrived here.”

  Cobalt cocked his head.

  “What’s he like?” the incubus asked curiously.

  “Oh, he’s from different parts than you. A little more rough-and-tumble. Well, ‘crash-and-burn’ might be more applicable here.”

  “What?”

  “Best drink that before it gets cold,” the Fallen urged, pushing Cobalt’s mug towards him.

  Nodding shakily, he took a sip of his milk. It was warm and frothy, not unpleasant by any stretch, but it made Cobalt miss the taste of tea. Not long after he had woken up, Doc Elliot had to explain to him that his body simply wasn’t capable of digesting many things aside from meat and dairy products, and as a result of that the diet he used to have just wasn’t feasible anymore. It was difficult, to be honest; a few nights he would wake up with an overwhelming urge for a Caesar salad, only to despair upon realising that he would never again be able to taste crisp lettuce or-

  The Incubus stopped thinking about that. He was just making himself sad.

  “Mr. Wexford,” Lydia stated, staring at the Fallen through the steam of her drink.

  “It’s a nickname. The honorific doesn’t really apply,” Wexford replied casually.

  She narrowed her eyes.

  “Tell us more about yourself.”

  With a heavy sigh, he leaned back and swirled his drink.

  “Well, there’s not really much to say. I’m a student of history, specialising in linguistics. I work from home as a translator for hire. I like to play video games and do favours for my overly pushy acquaintances in my spare time,” he answered simply.

  “So this is just a chore for you?” Lydia pressed.

  “If you’re asking if this is how I planned on spending my weekend, then no, not really. But it’s not that big of a deal; I’d much rather this than have Violet call me in for another one of her ‘favours.’”

  Cobalt was almost afraid to ask what that meant.

  “Sorry for the trouble…” he murmured, staring into his mug.

  Shaking his head, Wexford drained the last of his tea.

  “Really, it’s nothing. I’ll admit, I was curious to meet you in person. You’re not as tall as the stories made you out to be.”

  “I… get that a lot.”

  “I can imagine. Tell me, what was it like to-?”

  “Enough of the interrogation, Mr. Wexford,” Lydia interjected, clearly unable to see the irony of her request.

  Raising his hands, the Fallen just set his mug aside and nodded at the river.

  “Alright, alright. We’re almost at the Mancer District anyway. From there, I think Deanson is gonna want to speak with you in person.”

  Cobalt raised an eyebrow.

  “Who?”

  “Big name in the district. Apparently, he’s got a job waiting for you, I don’t know; not really my business. But he’s the kind of man who likes to look someone in the eye, you know?”

  That didn’t really help to hear. Cobalt was under the impression that this new job of his was supposed to be something low-key and out of the way, and now he was hearing that one of the most important people in the Mancer District? He was beginning to regret not asking for more details before setting off on this venture.

  “Ah, here’s our ride,” Wexford suddenly said, wiping his mouth as he pointed towards the water.

  Following his outstretched finger, Cobalt watched as a mighty riverboat pulled into the dock. The gangplanks dropped and demons began to surge out, prompting Wexford to grab his things and get up.

  “There’s a bridge connecting the island to the mainland, but most traffic is brought in on boats like this one. One good thing about the Mancer District is that there’s no cars, so it’s nice and quiet,” he explained, handing Cobalt’s satchel to him.

  “I- I’ve been meaning to ask, what exactly is-?”

  “You’ll see it for yourself soon. Get a move on; these boats don’t wait, and the next isn’t for an hour.”

  With barely a few seconds to finish his drink, Cobalt grabbed his cane and followed the others as quickly as he could. Skirting across the road, Lydia held his hand as he made his way down the steps to the dock, and kept holding it across the boat’s gangplank. Up ahead, Wexford bought tickets for them and flashed his commuter pass, and before he knew it, the Incubus found himself standing on the riverboat’s upper deck, watching the shore peel away as they sailed downriver.

  The wind was strong with no buildings to block it, urging Lydia to stay close to the Incubus as he gripped the balustrade tightly. He appreciated her looking out for him, but Cobalt was beginning to suspect an overly-protective instinct in his faithful maid. He understood her concerns, sure, but the simple face of the matter was that he wasn’t a child anymore. A little wind wasn’t going to kill him.

  But he said nothing aloud, and just watched the city go by as the boat chugged along.

  Eventually, at Wexford’s direction, he turned his gaze forwards as a landmass came into view. A huge island, right in the middle of the river, connected to the surrounding city by a mighty stone bridge. He could see towers and spires, but they looked much, much older in design than the buildings on the other sides of the river.

  “The Historical Commission fought tooth and nail to keep developers off the island,” Wexford explained as the boat angled itself to dock at a small port.

  “Is this…?”

  “Indeed it is.”

  Turning to Cobalt, the Fallen’s dark green eyes glinted as he gave him a tired smile.

  “Welcome to the Mancer District.”