The king sighed. “Of course, of course… I remember now, you brought me another bottle of thainol. How could I forget?”

Farris’s heart soared as the king gestured towards the bottle, still sealed with the poison inside undisturbed. Only during the frostbitten winters in the Dustworks did the sight of a single bottle of thainol bring such happiness. This one had been shipped from Penance and placed directly into Farris’s hands with instructions to give it to the king. One sip, Farris was told, would render any man infertile.

If he doesn’t know about the poison, then why have me summoned on such short notice?

King Diarmuid’s eyes remained fixated on the ground. His lips quivered.

“Is there something wrong, Your Grace?”

The king looked up at Farris, his radiant blue eyes laced with terror. “I… I was attacked.”

It was not the response Farris expected. “Attacked? By whom?”

The king closed his eyes. “By… they were… Simians. Dissident Simians, allied with the Silverback.”

“Impossible!” Farris exclaimed. It really was impossible; the Silverback would never attack the king without letting Farris know first, especially after so many years of careful planning. “When did this happen? Where was it?”

The king buried his face in his hands.

“Last night. Santos was leading me down to inspect the progress of the railway. We were halfway between here and Penance when we were ambushed. They murdered Santos and my guards, but I escaped.”

“And what of the rebels? Have they been caught?”

“No,” said the king hesitantly. “They were gone when I came to. Padraig has men stationed in the tunnel now.”

Farris stared at him, his mind reeling. Something didn’t add up.

“So, the attackers just left you there? To die?” Farris added the second question to make it seem less like he was questioning the king’s account.

“Savages,” growled Diarmuid, his face turning red. “We’ve given them too much, Farris. The bond between the Crown and the Triad is as strong as ever, but all it would take is the action of a single individual to spark a bloody civil war.”

War. Farris suppressed a shudder. With generations of peace since the Fall of Sin, none had ever even attempted to take the life of a king. Even the Silverback didn’t want to kill King Diarmuid outright. This much Farris knew for sure. So why an assassination attempt?

We worked so hard to make the king trust me. The Silverback would never throw all of it away like this.

“What do you propose we do?” he asked, trying to fill the silence.

King Diarmuid leaned forwards over the massive, oaken table.

“What do we do?” he asked, with the whisper of a madman. “Isn’t it obvious? We strike. We take the City of Steam!”

Farris focused on his breathing, the anxiety creeping its way back in. “Is that what you want?” he asked. “To start a war with the Simians of Penance?”

“Not yet,” said the king, mopping sweat from his forehead with a white silk handkerchief. “We need to build up our defences first. I’m garrisoning battlemages in every settlement across the Clifflands as we speak and raising taxes across the kingdom to fund them.”

Farris nodded, slowly. The smallfolk won’t like that one bit.

“But mages alone won’t win the war,” the king continued. “The Triad’s Skyfleet is far too powerful. I need you to travel to Penance to destroy it.”

Farris managed to keep a straight face. “Anything for the Crown, my liege.”

The king walked to a south-facing window overlooking the waterfront. Dozens of vessels—from tiny fishing boats to giant galleys—were tied along the piers. Further out were three airships, floating above the water. Farris recognised two instantly. Both The Horizon and Cumulous were common sights in the city. The third was a newcomer. It was no more splendid or larger than the other two, but it looked powerful. Four large engines surrounded the gargantuan gas cell, instead of the two that commonly adorned the continental models.

“It’s called The Glory of Penance,” said King Diarmuid. “It was built last year to cross the Eternal Sea. The Triad pulled its funding just as it was complete, so the captain is taking a trade route until he gathers enough coin for a proper expedition.”

“Very exciting.”

“Yes,” said the king, curtly. “Many have lost their lives to the Eternal Sea, for no ship could conquer it. But this….”

“It could find a new home for the Simian people,” whispered Farris, his mind rushing at the possibilities.

Don’t smile. You have orders to destroy the Skyfleet.

“You will travel on that ship when it leaves for Penance tomorrow at dawn.” King Diarmuid pulled out a roll of parchment from inside his robes and handed it to Farris. “You will board under the identity of a Simian named Chester who will be travelling as a passenger. I am told he bears a resemblance to you. Keep your head down and nobody will question you. Chester has been told that—”

“—the ship leaves at noon,” finished Farris, who had already opened the parchment and began reading.

“Four other agents will be on board,” continued the king. “They’ll have similar instructions, but you will never see them, and they will never see you. Once the ship docks at Sin, seek out a druid by the eastern front. Ask him about my health, and he will respond with the words, ‘The Lord and Lady protect him.’ After that, things will move quickly.”

Farris stared at the parchment.

“You commit those words to memory, Farris, and destroy the parchment.”

“Of course, Your Grace,” the Simian muttered, his mind far away.

I must tell the Silverback. As soon as I arrive at Penance, I’ll warn him.

But what of the other agents? What would happen if he never spoke the code to druid? Would they carry on the mission without him?

Perhaps I can silence them. Perhaps they will never make it to Penance.

“Do you understand your orders, Farris?” asked Diarmuid, his voice sterner than before.

“Yes, Your Grace,” Farris said weakly. “If I may be excused, I’ll make my preparations.”

“Yes, agent. Godspeed.”

Farris pulled out his pipe and a line of flint from his breast pocket. With a well-practised flick and a twist, he put his lips to the spout and inhaled the soothing smoke. He closed his eyes as the smoke filled his lungs, clearing out the vapours of anxiety.

The king laughed, quickly returning to his old self. “Be sure to enjoy that, Farris! You know these ships don’t allow that kind of stuff on board. You’d burn it straight out of the sky!”

Farris stopped and turned, puffing smoke out from the side of his mouth. “Of course, Your Grace. You know I’m more careful than that.”

With that, Farris pressed his shoulder against the door, swinging it open forcefully. Padraig Tuathil collapsed on the floor as the Simian tumbled over him.

The king roared again with laughter. “Very careful, of course!”

Farris jumped to his feet as a bewildered Padraig held a hand to his own face.