Before the sun was even up the next day, the Factory was back in full swing. Carts and wagons carrying supplies and early morning deliveries were being loaded and unloaded under the loud supervision of the yard workers while multi-colored smoke poured out the peak of the Pyramid, high overhead. Just like yesterday morning, people were gathered outside the main gates, though this crowd was more desperate than angry. They were tired, and hungry looking, pushing against each other as they stood waiting, watching anxiously.

In time, a short Human Foreman came walking out from the main building accompanied by two hulking workers, a Troll and a Half-Man with mottled scales over his arms. The Human had an officious, almost petty, air to him, and a small clipboard tucked under his arms. As he drew nearer to the gate, the crowd went silent, some standing on tiptoe to see while others pressed their faces through the bars.

The Half-Man pulled a small wooden box in front of the gate, while the Troll stood there, glowering dully at the crowd. The Foreman climbed up on the box and took out his clipboard, clearing his throat.

“We need six on the assembly line this morning: fast hands, preferably with still all your fingers,” he called, looking out over the crowd. Hands shot up and he frowned, pointing here and there. “You, you, you– not you, I see that bandage, you, you, and you.” The gate squealed as the Half-Man pushed it open and the chosen few rushed inside. The Foreman cleared his throat again. “Two extra for clean-up duty on the cages, strong backs and stronger stomachs. Yes, you and you. Okay, finally we need two small ones for work repairing a sorter. The job requires going into tight spaces around a lot of moving machinery. Let’s see…” he squinted, looking around. He pointed at a Halfling. “You, and… Is there no one else? How about you?” he pointed to a young Elven girl of perhaps six or seven. “Stand up straight.” She did, and he frowned. “Scrunch your head down a bit. Yeah, that’s about right. You’ll do.” He waved impatiently for her. The girl hesitated however, until an older girl standing next to her pushed her forwards, towards the gates. The young girl hurried through, glancing back once as the gates shut behind her.

The Foreman waved his hands to the crowd. “That’s all for today, thank you! Check back in again next shift.”

As he and the workers escorted the lucky few across the yard, the crowd lingered outside the gates. A few wandered out into the square, mumbling dejectedly, but many remained, choosing to wait the long hours until the next shift change.

Maine had a good vantage point to watch them all from where she worked. She scrubbed the Pyramid wall with the hard brush, holding her breath as she felt the ladder shake underneath her. Soapy water slopped out of the hanging bucket as she strained back and forth, soaking the ground far below her.

“How did they even draw something this high up?!” she yelled in frustration. She scrubbed the brush up and down again, but the scrawled graffiti on the wall stubbornly remained.

Not far from her, Miss Imi raised her head drowsily from her chair, checking her progress. “More cleaning, less complaining, if you please,” she called up to her. “Once you’re done with this side, you’ve got three more waiting for you.”

Maine leaned back from the ladder, staring down the side of the Pyramid, her eyes widening. It was easily larger than a city block, the black stone streaked with ash buildup, Imp droppings, and all manner of graffiti close to the base. She sagged down against the ladder.

“Be glad Matthew’s not making you do the higher sections,” Miss Imi told her.

“This isn’t fair!” she said, slamming the brush into the bucket and starting to scrub again. “I was only trying to help him! He could’ve been grateful!”

“Grateful his sister almost got herself killed?” Miss Imi said sleepily, settling back down in her chair. “What kind of brother would he be then?”

“A much better one,” she grunted. She scraped the bristles up and down against the wall, scrubbing at a large, crude drawing of a horned face, peering over the edge of a wall, but it refused to come clean.

“Miss Imi?” she called after a while.

“Eh?” the old Hob roused herself and looked up again.

“Was Seward telling the truth last night?” she asked hesitantly. “About how without the Auction, we might have to shut down?”

“Oh, that. Mmmhm.” She grumbled for a moment, her brows furrowing. “I don’t know all the details for certain, but that’s what I’ve heard,” she finally admitted.

“How?” Maine demanded. “Everything was going so well when Gran was ali– here. How did everything go so wrong under Matthew?”

“Don’t be so quick to blame your brother,” she cautioned her. “He’s been working night and day to keep this place afloat after young Grandmother passed. Reminds me of your father, working himself to an early grave, bless his soul…” She sighed, drawing her shawl tighter around her shoulders and crossed herself. “And don’t think everything was so stable under your Grandmother either,” she added, fixing a sharp eye up at her. “There was a great deal you weren’t aware of.”

“What do you mean?”

“Your Grandmother would’ve rather let the house burn down around her than admit something was wrong,” Miss Imi replied, making herself more comfortable in her chair. “Now, I’ve never been invited to a business meeting, but I keep my ears and eyes open while I clean.” She smiled suddenly. “There’s few secrets that you can hide from a cleaning lady, don’t you know?”

“I know that these financial troubles didn’t start yesterday, nor did they start the day she died either,” she told Maine. She looked at the Pyramid, shaking her head. “They’ve been building for years, decades maybe. Too many new fangled processes out there, assembly lines, industrialization; it’s been getting harder for us to keep up with the competition. How long did your Grandmother know about it? I can’t say,” she admitted, raising her hands. “Maybe she knew from the beginning, but couldn’t see a way out of it.”

She sighed, shaking her head. “She was proud, too proud maybe, to ask for help when it could’ve made a difference.”

Maine stared down at her, trying to understand. “And Matthew decided the Auction was the best way to help us?”

“We needed funds, and what better way than selling off a few old antiques?” she told her. “He thought it was a simple solution, poor lad,” she sighed.

Maine frowned and let the brush fall back down into the bucket. She took a few steps down the ladder, thinking quickly. “Miss Imi, why was everyone so upset about the Auction? I mean, I didn’t want him to sell off Gran’s things, but why was everyone else so–”

“--Ready to riot?” Miss Imi answered her. Maine nodded. “Well, that’s a difficult question. I suppose it has to do with who was doing the buying.”

She looked up at her. “You saw the people who were lined up outside the door yesterday. Do you think any of them ever set foot in Old Coney before that morning? Do you think they were liable to come back?” She shook her head again. “I think we’ve seen enough of our history disappear into the collections of the wealthy.”

“We’ll get them back,” Maine assured her. “We’ll bring everything back to the mansion and then Matthew and I’ll figure something out to save the Factory. You’ll see!”

Rather than look happy at the idea though, Miss Imi just frowned, then shook herself and said quickly, “Yes, If you say so. But, you’re not going to be doing anything without cleaning that wall first,” she said, pointing with her cane. “And the rest of them, hurry up now!”

Maine grumbled as she started to climb up the ladder. Past the gates, she could see repairs continuing out in the square, where a few Maierson workers were still clearing away the rubble from yesterday. They’d been out there since dawn, when Matthew had seen off the Marshalls. Maine had had a front row seat for that as well.

“Be careful out there,” her brother had warned them. “The city’s still on edge.”

There’d been a burst of steam and Albert had leaned forwards. He’d trailed along after Matthew, but now he stepped forwards, dipping his head down low till it was almost on level with her brother’s. “Are you sure it’s wise to send them off alone, Mattie? Give me half a tic and I can have a squad of Forge workers out here in a jiffy, no problem.”

“No, I told you, we’re not doing that,” her brother had insisted.

“But Mattie, they held you hostage–”

“No! I’ve made up my mind,” he had snapped, and Albert had stepped back, his eyes blinking in agitation. Maine had heard the sound of grinding gears coming from somewhere inside him as steam leaked from his neck joints.

Fengmi had stepped forwards, giving them both a growling sort of laugh. “Don’t you worry about us. We know how to track someone quietly.”

Dakota had nodded as well. He had been bouncing on the soles of his feet as if eager to get started, his nose already in the air, scenting the wind. “We’ll be back as soon as we learn something.”

Fengmi had cracked his neck from side to side, flexing his huge shoulders. “Maybe even with your artifacts if we’re lucky.”

Before they could start off however, Matthew had stepped closer to them. “About the Firstborn…” he had started to say. Albert had thrown up his hands in disgust and wandered back to the Factory, while Maine had leaned far over on the ladder, straining to hear.

“Please go easy on any Firstborn you find,” her brother had asked.

Dakota and Fengmi had both turned, looking at him in surprise. “Are you sure about that?” the older Marshal had asked him.

“They could’ve hurt us, but they didn’t. I don’t think… I don’t think they’re that bad.”

Dakota had looked at his partner as the big man frowned. “They are criminals, remember? We’re obligated under the law to–”

“I know, but… Isn’t getting the Weapon back more important?” he’d pointed out. “Can’t you just, focus on that more than arresting anyone?”

“We’ll do what we have to,” Fengmi had said firmly. He’d looked hard at her brother, narrowing his eyes. “What’s your game here, Maierson? Don’t you want your things back?”

“Of course I do! I just…” Matthew had stammered. “I’m just trying to explore all possibilities, you know? If there’s a way to find our things without having to get into a fight with the Firstborn, we should explore that, shouldn’t we?”

“And do you know a way that we don’t?” Fengmi had asked flatly.

Matthew had almost wilted under the big man’s glare, but he’d stepped closer starting to say, “Well, I was thinking that we could go to–”

The ladder had suddenly jerked off balance and Maine had been forced to grab hold of it, pressing herself against the wall to keep from falling. When she’d been able to glance back up, Fengmi had been shaking his head in disgust, staring at her brother. Behind him, Dakota had been trying to hide a smile though.

“Look, you do whatever you want Maierson,” the older Marshal had snapped. He’d started towards the gate, nodding towards Dakota. “We’ve got our own ways of tracking them down.”

Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

Her brother had followed after them. “But if you happen to run into Henna, Miss Alleaf, I mean! Could you–” but they were already loping across the square, Dakota leading the way.

But that had been hours ago, who knows where they were now? Could they have found the Firstborn already? Maine considered it, and decided that it was unlikely. Somehow she doubted that the Firstborn would be that easy to track down, even if Dakota’s nose was as talented as he claimed. The tall woman who’d lead them, Marsha, had seemed far more canny than that. Maine had a suspicion that they would need someone just as equally tricky to find her.

But of course, she wasn’t going to help anyone while she was stuck scrubbing these blasted walls!

Maine surreptitiously glanced down the ladder. Miss Imi’s head was lolling, and she was slumped in her chair. She could sneak away now, but what good would that do? As soon as Miss Imi woke up, they’d know that she’d vanished, and Matthew would tear up city looking for her, just as he’d done before. Thinking quickly, Maine glanced around.

The crowd outside the fence had slimmed down to a few people, still waiting listlessly. One in particular caught her eye. It was the older Elf girl she’d noticed before. She was standing with one arm on the fence, watching the yard as she waited for her sister. Maine narrowed her eyes. She looked about her height, yes… And her hair was pretty fluffy…

She leaned over as far as she dared and threw her voice. “Psssst!!!”

The girl started, trying to figure out where the noise was coming from. “Pssssssstt!” she tried again.

Finally, she looked up, blinking and staring at Maine in astonishment.

A little while later, Miss Imi roused herself in her chair. Blinking, she looked up quickly and then settled down again as she saw what she thought was Maine hard at work scrubbing away at the wall. Satisfied, her head began to loll once more and within moments, she was snoring again.

And up on the ladder, the Elf girl continued to scrub, sweating nervously inside Maine’s jacket.

Dandy stared at Maine, onions and meat dribbling unnoticed off the end of his hotdog. “Your Grandma found a way to kill Strabos!?”

“Not so loud!” she shushed him, glancing warily at Claude as he futzed over the charcoal grill attached to his cart. The tall, gangly Elf seemed not to have heard them, his back to them as he rolled the next batch of dogs on the grill. It was a simple food stand, serving all manners of fresh and all-natural meat in a bun, as long as you weren’t too picky about a few things, like what constituted ‘fresh’, and ‘all-natural’, and what exact type of ‘meat’ you were eating. In general, it was better to not ask questions, and just layer on toppings till that’s all you could taste. Maine took a straining mouthful, chewing quickly and wiping meat sauce off her chin.

“Yah, shee diid,” she said between bites.

“And the Firstborn have it now?” More sauce dribbled off the end of his bun as he considered the matter. “What’s your brother going to do?”

She swallowed, thumping her chest to make it go down. “He’s got the Marshal’s hunting for it. They’re looking all over Old Coney for them. But that doesn’t matter.”

“Why not?”

“Cause we’re going to find them first!”

The rest of Dandy’s bun fell from his hand. “Are you crazy?!”

“No, I’ve got a plan– and stop being so loud!” She reached over and tapped Claude on the back. “Can we have another two?”

He turned round, stubbled chin pockmarked with scars and a sour expression on his face. “You haven’t paid me yet for the first ones,” he reminded her.

Maine looked at him, shocked. “I’m a Maierson! My brother’s good for it.”

“Well, I don’t see him here, do I? Pay up.”

Grumbling, Maine dug through her pockets, finally finding the correct change. “Here,” she said, slapping it down on the cart counter. “Same as before.”

He grunted and grabbed two lively looking dogs and slammed them in buns. While he slathered them in toppings, Maine leaned in close to Dandy.

“We’re going to search Old Coney and find them before the Marshals do. That way, my brother will have to deal with us if he wants to get back the Weapon.” She smiled, smugly. “It’s brilliant!”

Dandy shook his head, staring down at Ifri as the kitten sniffed curiously at the remains of his bun. “Oh, really?”

“What?”

“That’s not a plan, Maine. That’s–, I don’t know, wishful thinking.”

“What’s wrong with it?”

“Where to begin?” he asked, ticking items off on his hand. “Well, we don’t have the slightest idea where the Firstborn could be. We don’t know how to find them. And even if we could find them, your brother is likely to be so mad he’ll mail you to a school in the Yukon anyways. And who knows what he’d do to me.” He took his new dog from Claude and started to chew, pointedly ignoring her.

Maine watched him for a moment, then tossed her head up lightly. “Leave Matthew to me,” she told him. She took her new dog and held it, contentedly watching the rest of the market. “We’ll figure it out, don’t you worry.”

The main market of Old Coney was a riot of carts and little shops, of people hawking wares from every corner of the globe at the top of their lungs, where every taste, no matter how outlandish or forbidden, could be satisfied. There were fresh fruit stands like gardens in full bloom, flower stalls as verdant as any jungle, and butcher shops groaning with dripping meat and ribs the size of wagon wheels. This was Maine’s favorite spot to watch the street from, a little tucked away stoop, close enough to the hustle and bustle that she was safe from being run over, but still had a front row seat.

Centaurs pulled wagons and carts up the road, yelling and calling to each other as they passed. A large, bulky Naga, with ridges running down his snout like a crocodile, was arguing loudly with a Goblin over fish prices, when he got distracted, gazing hungrily at a pair of Halfling’s running by carrying a wheel of cheese as big as they were over their heads. Oblivious to everything, a Dryad with long, willow-like hands and feet wandered by, chewing vacantly at a bundle of roses in his hands.

A pale figure, clad in castoff rags and coats, stumbled out of a nearby alley and lurched over to Claude’s cart. He gave the children a wide-eyed, hungry stare, but then jerked his head away and kept his gaze on Claude.

“What kind of meat do you have?” he asked, his voice raspy and harsh.

“Whatever kind you lookin’ for,” the Elf shrugged. “It’s all natural here.” He raked the dogs over the grill again, and they sizzled deliciously.

The man lurched closer. His face was haggard, almost hidden under his thick black hair that seemed to start just over his brows. Hands that were as hairy as paws gripped the sides of the cart. “I’m looking for special meat!” he insisted, almost growling. He hesitated, glancing at the children again. “Lo-long pig?”

Claude’s face clouded over and he swatted suddenly at the man with his tongs. “Get out of here! Get!” he yelled, driving him off. The man stumbled back towards the alley, almost running on all fours, his cloak and wild hair whipping around him. “Don’t you come back till Thursday, after hours!” Claude yelled after him.

Maine laughed. It had been so long since she’d last come here. She tried to recall, and the smile slipped from her face.

“So what’s the special occasion?” Maine had asked. Henna had been bouncing up and down so excitedly, her ears practically wagging in the air, that it wasn’t hard to guess that she had something to announce.

Henna had taken a bite of her hotdog, wrapped in boiled kale and doused in parsley and stinging nettle sauce, then leaned close to Maine. She remembered her scent suddenly, lavender with the faintest whiff of chemicals. “Your Gran’s agreed to see my latest experiment!” she had whispered, excitedly.

“Really?”

“Yes! I can’t believe it, she’s been so busy lately, hardly able to see anyone, but all of a sudden she told me she wants to see the whole process tomorrow morning! Just me and her in lab two.”

Henna had been so excited that Maine couldn’t help but smile too, but she remembered thinking how nervous she’d seemed as well, touching a silver necklace at her neck every now and then, her eyes darting everywhere.

“What’s wrong?” she’d asked. “You’re ready to show her, right?”

“What? Oh, of course, yes,” she’d said hurriedly. “There’s a few last things to work out, but I’ll get them ready.” She touched her necklace again. “I just- I have a lot riding on this. I think this might finally show your Grandmother I’m ready to graduate; move on from being her apprentice.”

“That’s great!” Maine had said, throwing her arms around her, but Henna had hardly seemed to notice.

“I can open up my own shop,” she’d said. “Start my own business. Maybe even start a family–”

Dandy suddenly grabbed Maine’s arm.

Claude was standing still, tongs still in his hand as he stared down the market street. The hustle and bustle was gone, the entire street had gone silent and still, everyone suddenly frozen, listening intently. Even Ifri abandoned the charred hotdog he was gnawing at and arched his back.

Khhhhiiiiiiisssss!!

“What’s going on?” Maine asked.

All at once, everyone began moving quickly; stalls were packed up and wheeled away, reins cracked as wagons began rolling, and shopkeepers shut their doors and windows, pulling curtains tight. Everyone else on the street began to melt away, disappearing down alleys and side-streets with surprising speed.

Dandy jumped up, tugging on Maine’s arm. “Come’on,” he hissed. Maine stumbled after him, dragging her feet.

Claude was meanwhile slamming the lid closed on his grill as he kicked the blocks away from his cart. “Get lost, if you know what’s good for you,” he warned them. Without another word, he picked up the end of the cart and wheeled it away, running with practiced speed.

Maine let Dandy pull her down an alleyway and around the corner, Ifri bounding after them, then she tugged free from his grip. “Hold up! What’s going on?”

He grabbed her arm again, shaking his head. “We’ve got to keep going!”

“Why? What’s the matter?”

They heard the sound of glass breaking from the street and Dandy ducked his head suddenly, trembling. He pressed himself against the alley wall and hissed at her, “Get back!”

Maine threw herself against the wall, but despite Dandy’s warnings, snuck closer to the edge, peering around the corner.

A group of scruffy, shabbily dressed men were walking through the now abandoned market, clubs in hands. They kicked at the trash and fallen items in the road, laughing crudely to each other. Maine stared, breathing sharply through her nose. They were just like the ones she’d seen in Henna’s shop before, right down to the red bandannas on their arms.

“What are they doing here?” she whispered to Dandy. He shook his head, refusing to speak.

The sound of more breaking glass made her turn back again. One of the men had picked up a trash can and hurled it through a shop window, to the loud cheers of his compatriots. As some began to throw more stones and bricks through the glass, others began to lay about with their clubs, hitting anything within reach. It seemed like they didn’t care what they damaged just so long as something was being broken.

Maine watched silently, feeling something stirring inside of her. She wasn’t by nature a girl that kept her emotions in check; by her own admission, when she was upset, she let people know it. But this, this was a new kind of fury that was kindling inside her. It seemed to start from her belly, growing outward and building till she could almost taste it; a burning rage that felt like if she shouted it out, the whole world might explode. Dandy must’ve seen it in her face, for he suddenly grabbed her arm, tugging her back away from the edge.

“Don’t make a sound!” he pleaded, jerking his head down the other end of the alley. “Let’s go, we can’t get caught again like that!”

Maine snarled, biting her lip, but he was right. They couldn’t count on any Marshalls coming to save them this time. She started after him, when suddenly she heard a loud growling sound behind them.

YYYEEeeeooOOOWWWRRRRR!!!

Ifri was spitting with fury in the alleyway, hissing and yowling loudly at the men.

“Oh, crap!” she muttered. She pressed close to the alley edge again, whispering and calling under her breath. “Ifri, come’on! Oh, you stupid cat, come’on!”

He ignored her, continuing to howl. She considered running out to grab him, but before she could start forward, Dandy pulled her back again.

“Watch out!”

One of the men had heard Ifri’s yowling and was walking down the alley to investigate. He was a big, hefty man, his gut hanging well over his belt. When he saw the cat, he gave a loud laugh, worthy of a Troll.

“Stupid cat!” he snorted. Without so much as a second thought, he kicked at a loose stone and sent it flying towards Ifri, but the cat jumped nimbly aside, turning and running down the alley towards Maine. The man gave another crude laugh and then turned around, waddling back towards the market.

Maine narrowed her eyes, watching him go, while Dandy sighed in relief. Ifri just sat back, cleaning his paws and looking smugly satisfied with himself.

“I can’t believe they’ve come this far into Old Coney,” she muttered. She watched the men continue off past the alley, still laughing and calling to each other, over the sounds of more breaking glass and wood.

“They’re everywhere now,” Dandy told her. He looked pale and still a little frightened, but as he noticed Maine watching him, a little flush of red returned to his cheeks and he turned away quickly. “Don’t look at me like that,” he told her, his voice quavoring. “I know what you’re thinking.”

“What am I thinking?”

He was silent for a moment. “That I’m a big coward. That I should’ve done something,” he said finally. His back shook as he faced away from her. “I’m a member of the 33rd Street Boys; I said the gangs would stand up for Old Coney!” He kicked at a loose stone, sending it flying. “Turns out I’m all talk.”

She looked at him for a moment, then grabbed his arm and yanked him around. “Well, I need you to talk,” she told him, his face wide with surprise.

“What?”

“I need you to tell me some way of finding the Firstborn! Come’on! You know Old Coney better than anyone I know. There’s got to be some way of finding them.”

He sank down in a squat, his expression darkening. “I told you already, I don’t know. It’s not like they advertise, you understand?”

“But there’s got to be someone who has to know! Anyone?”

He stared down at the ground for a moment, then looked up slowly. “Well, there might be someone…”

She leaned towards him quickly, her eyes bright. “Who?!”

“It’s just… It’s really dangerous,” he warned her, starting to sweat. “I mean, forget what I said, I don’t know anyone!”

Maine leaned even closer, her forehead pressing against his. Dandy’s eyes were darting everywhere, trying desperately to keep from looking her in the eye.

“Who?” she asked again.