Emma and Mr. Wolf were led silently by the two men who had dragged them across from the Vicious Fall. Winding along the corridor leading from the cargo loading bay. The walls of this ship were painted grey and mottled with dirt and other filth, made with iron plates and dense cotton and sand-filled tiles. Emma noted the differences between the Dresden and her own ship. "This ship is a warship, not like our fast packet," she thought as she passed a hand over the walls. Each time her hand came away, the grime had to be rubbed free between her fingers. Turning around, she noted that she had created a trail in the walls to follow back.

Turning this way and that, down corridors and through hatches. Emma continued to review the environment, noting the state of everything. Despite a general sense of grime and muck, mechanical devices, doors and lights were maintained well, without clutter or crew. Nothing was left out that could slow a runner from delivering an order if the ship was in distress or if communication was lost in a fight.

"If'in I was a man given to intimidation and fear, I'd be downright nervous about all of this parading and no a shipmaster to be seen. Save for these two swabies. Is that it, lads? So you try'in to fright us before we get to the madman at the end of your leash?" Mr. Wolf jibbed at the escort.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

"Now, now, Mr. Wolf. With this little jaunt along the garden path, our hosts are clearly doing a fine job of showing us their home. But, it would have been more usual to have been offered some kind of refreshment at this point in the proceedings," Emma added.

"Yeah. That's right. Like bad form not be given some'in to eat by now. You wazzocks just like to see a man be'in all downright peckish. When all I am doing is being polite and coming to call on your better, swabies," Mr Wolf said.

But still, this did not elicit any other response than the continued and familiar silence. Unfortunately for Emma, Mr. Wolf had not noticed they had come to yet another closed door. He bumped into Emma, who had stopped behind the deckhands.

"Core, blimey," Mr. Wolf said as he spun around.

"You're excused," Emma responded.

The crewmen opened the door, gesturing for Emma to follow them inside.

As Emma stepped through behind them. Crossing the threshold, one of the swabies said, "Palagi is going to die," the door slammed shut, closed by a mechanism of some ordinary nature.

No one noticed that Mr Wolf did not make it through the door.