Judy pulled the hood of her coat close around her, shivering as she walked quickly down the cobblestone street at the south end of Kaldwin's Bridge. She'd been across the bridge on a number of occasions, but always surrounded by the normal entourage of Royal Guards that accompanied the Empress as she made her way around the city. She'd always been on high alert, scanning the windows and the crowds for sudden movement. And every time they crossed, the Empress would bid Judy to relax. She never did.
A part of her hoped she'd be able to ease some of the tension that had her wound tight. But walking the streets of Dunwall alone at night brought with it a different sense of unease. She couldn't shake the sensation that she was being watched.
Of course, her finely tuned hearing had yet to alert her to any danger from the darkened buildings that towered above, lining both sides of the promenade that stretched from the north bank of the Wrenhaven to the south. She had only encountered the usual: beggars rummaging through the refuse discarded in the alleys, a few tough looking dock workers smoking and sipping at whatever swill their stills had produced, and the scurrying of a small group of feral rats.
Of all the victims of the plague, Judy's heart ached for them most of all. It had done so much damage to the city, but she wasn't sure if the rodent population would ever recover. So many rats, driven to an unthinking and unfeeling feral state. Judy shuddered at the thought, and couldn't help but chaffe whenever the Spymaster droned on about measures to protect the populace from the feral rats - as though the rats and mice weren't citizens of the city, weren't worth saving.
As much as Judy felt obligated to complain about being sent on a tour of the Isles, she fully understood and was glad that Jessamine cared strongly enough to send Judy. It was her duty to protect the Empress, but she would be more than happy to find something, anything to help cure this damned plague.
It was all the more reason for her to quicken her pace and make haste to the warehouse mentioned in the letter. The sooner she could rule out the threat to the Empress, the sooner she could be off. And hopefully, she could find something to help Dunwall.
Judy had drawn close to the gate at the south end of Kaldwin's Bridge, and - though a blanket of fog had begun to settle over the city - the rabbit had no trouble spotting a bored looking deer wearing a watch uniform, slumped over in chair and snoring loudly. Judy couldn't help but roll her eyes; how the Watch got away with hiring guards that were so lax in their duty was beyond her. Even when Judy walked right up to him, the deer remained fast asleep.
With a huff, Judy drew her blade with a practiced motion and placed the tip to the neck of the cervine watchmammal. Her ears caught the sharp intake of breath that accompanied the deer's eyes bolting open. Immediately the deer's eyes widened in shock.
"P-please … I don't …" he stammered.
"Were I a Hatter or one of the Bottle Street gang …" Judy let the implication hang in the air. "But lucky for, you I am not."
Judy withdrew her blade and gestured to the gate.
"I need to pass through. I'm on urgent business for the Crown."
The guard looked to the gate and back at the rabbit while a hoof rubbed at his neck.
"Oh … of course!"
The deer stood up a bit too quickly, lurched his way towards the gate mechanism and reached for a lever that operated the gate.
"Aren't you going to ask for some identification?"
The deer froze, before he slowly turned to face Judy.
"No, need m'lady. I wouldn't dare impede the Lady Protector."
Judy swore under her breath. Her hood and cowl had done nothing to conceal her identity. She really wished she had a mask or something. The guard opened the gate and she stepped through to the south bank of Dunwall.
She was close to Milton's now, and Judy resisted the urge to sprint. She glanced behind her to the north bank of the river, hoping to spot the face of the clocktower. She was relieved to find she had plenty of time to get to the warehouse, but doubted arriving early would speed things along. Clandestine meetings required patience, which was never the rabbit's strong suit.
But if it meant sussing out a potential threat to the Empress, Judy was more than willing to check her impatience.
Nick sat, perched on the gate separating the Flooded District from the rest of the city, and looked down at the brackish water that covered the streets and alleys of the buildings ahead. The district had seen better days, that much was clear.
The Flooded District was once known as the Rudshore Financial District, and was a favorite haunt of the Shadow Fox. It had been home to a host of nobles and wealthy business mammals, who built ever more elaborate homes and mansions. The fanciest and most expensive shops could be found here selling the latest contraptions and elixirs from the Academy, tailors and clothiers sold the latest in fashion, and bank after bank had established vaults and reserves in the district. It was everything a thief of Nick's caliber could hope for - a one stop shop for an easy profit.
But in the years since the levees had broken, Rudshore had quickly decayed into a ghost town of skeletal buildings. Every plan to drain the district and repair the damage fell through, and the Rat Plague made any coordinated efforts pointless. Why bother fixing one part of the city when the whole thing was starting to rot from within?
Now walled off from the rest of Dunwall, the only denizens of the district were Weepers slowly succumbing to the plague, feral rats, and the Whalers. It was a far cry from the former center of nobility.
From what Nick could gather, the ship he had been hired to investigate had been moored at the Greaves Refinery when the district had flooded. He was familiar with the building, in no small part because of the fame of its owner. Roseburrow Industries may have revolutionized industry across the Isles with the use of whale oil as a power, but none of it would have been possible if not for the infamous Greaves Whale House.
The company had grown quickly, absorbing its rivals until it held a monopoly on the refinement of whale blubber into usable oil. At its height, it had employed hundreds of workers in the district, who wore a distinctive leather coat and gas mask to protect them from noxious fumes. It was no secret, though, that Greaves overworked and underpaid its workers - none of whom could possibly afford to live in Rudshore, not on a Greaves wage. And yet despite the low pay and dangerous workplace, there were over a hundred applicants for every job. It was steady work that didn't require any education or special labor. Just brute strength and the fortitude to endure the horrible work conditions.
But despite its wealth and influence, the company had been unable to weather the flooding of Rudshore, having centralized all of its facilities in the district. When the water came in, it signaled the end of the Greaves company. Its rivals were quick to absorb the market share, and the Rat Plague made any hope the company had of recovering impossible.
Now the building was a bloated corpse, just like the whales whose bodies were hauled into the refinery to be ripped apart and refined into oil.
Nick looked up to the skeletal remains of the apartments and houses that were close to the gate, deciding how best to navigate the district. He didn't fancy taking a swim; the water would not only be freezing, but infested with hagfish and eels. The district was also teeming with river krusts - nasty clam-like creatures who spat a corrosive acid at anything that drew near. His best bet would be to keep to roofs and whatever remained of the upper floors of the buildings. This would help him avoid both the river krusts and the weepers who gathered in whatever dry places they could find.
But the roofs of the district were the same places that Daud's Whaler's were said to lurk.
There were many rumors about Daud's gang: stories of the occult, blood sacrifices and dark rituals to appease the Outsider. Nick put no stock in them; as far as he was concerned, they were just another gang - no different from the Hatters or the Bottle Street gang. But the fox did have to give Daud some credit, he fostered quite the daunting reputation. Nick suspected the whaler's masks played a large role in intimidating those who saw them.
The fox jumped down onto the roof of a nearby apartment and began to creep across. The lights in the district had long since stopped working, but Nick's keen eyes and natural night vision made this no great obstacle.
As Nick moved from building to building, he found himself moving with much greater care and caution than he normally used. There was something foreboding about the district, an air of oppression that weighed on his shoulders. Nick normally thrived on the sense of danger Dunwall gave him, but he found nothing pleasant about this district. The sooner he found the The Silver Sea and got out of this cursed place the better.
The weather had taken a turn for the worse - dark storm clouds had blown in from the sea and brought with them a rain that came down in fat, wet drops. It clattered and banged against every roof in the city, collecting into gutters and pouring out onto the streets. Nearly soaked through, Judy stood with hood raised in front of the Milton Industries warehouse; a gray, square building, the warehouse was unremarkable in a city filled to the brim with squat stone buildings.
The front doors of the warehouse were locked, naturally - the majority of the district had been condemned due to the plague. The rabbit considered her options; she could try to break down the door - quite the task for the diminutive bunny - but that would take an inordinate amount of time. And if her mysterious benefactor was already inside, there had to be another way in.
Glancing around, the rabbit noticed an alley to the side of the warehouse. She took a few steps to the side to look down the alley, and immediately noticed a fire escape halfway down the side of the building, leading down from the second and third stories. Though Judy could see the ladder was retracted, she smiled.
She took a few quick steps into the alley until she was standing roughly underneath the fire escape, which hung about eight feet over her head, dripping water into a puddle on the cobblestones below. The rabbit turned to face the opposite wall of the alley, about ten feet away, before crouching into a runner's stance.
Judy sprinted at the opposite wall, leaping halfway across the alley. Twisting herself around, she hit the far side of the alley feet first, coiling like a spring about six feet up the wall. Pushing with every bit of strength in her powerful legs, the rabbit launched herself back towards the fire escape. She sailed clear over the alley, easily catching onto the retracted ladder and pulling herself up. Judy looked down at the alley below her and smiled; sometimes there was an advantage to being a rabbit.
Climbing up the steps of the fire escape, Judy noticed a window near the top of the building that was angled open, the rain sliding down the face of its pane. She jumped up to catch the lip of the open window, and pulled herself inside.
The interior of the warehouse was dark and musty, the smell of stagnant water and the acrid smell of rust rose to greet Judy. The floor of the warehouse was littered with stacked crates covered in tarps, or various lengths and shapes of steel; girders, tubes, and plates. But in the center of the building, a table and chairs was placed and conspicuously lit with the light from an oil lamp on the center of the table.
If this were a trap, that was the bait.
Judy felt a strong urge to bolt, but quickly suppressed it. Her life meant nothing if it could help save her Empress, her friend. Instead, she closed her eyes and listened.
She heard the clinking and chiming of the chains that hung down from winches on a pair of rails that ran the length of the warehouse. The dripping of water into a thousand small pools. The whistling of a draft through the window behind her. Nothing seemed out of place.
Taking a deep breath, Judy drew her sword and retrieved her pistol from its sheath. Hopping down from her perch on the window, she strode tall and purposeful to the table and chairs. Her ears twitched from side to side, eager to catch any sound.
As she reached the table she heard … something. It was quiet, but she distinctively heard a whoosh, like a smith blowing out the air in a bellows.
Wheeling around to face the source of the noise, Judy held her sword at the ready and cocked the hammer of her pistol.
"You won't need those. As you can see, I am unarmed." A rich, feminine voice called as its owner emerged from the darkness. She had her paws raised above her shoulders, as to help prove her previous statement.
The figure in front of Judy seemed to be a canine, smaller than a wolf. As the figure stepped forward, arms wide and empty, Judy noted that the figure's head was shaped differently than any wolf. Not a canine, but a hyena - striped, judging from the dark markings on the figure's otherwise chocolate fur. The hyena was dressed in a red coat, a leather bandolier and belt. Brown eyes carefully regarded the rabbit across a black furred muzzle.
"Who are you?" Judy asked, as she carefully lowered her sword and assumed a defensive stance.
"The one who called you here."
Judy narrowed her eyes in suspicion, an act that caused the ghost of a smile to cross the hyena's face.
"Very well, if you're looking for a name … you can call me Meagan."
"An alias, I assume?"
"Of course."
The hyena moved slowly and deliberately towards the chair and tables, sitting across the table from Judy.
"Now, we're both busy mammals. Let's get to business." Meagan said, gesturing to the other chair.
Judy couldn't suppress the shiver that ran down her spine at the way the hyena pronounced business. Reluctantly, she sheathed her sword and holstered her pistol before hopping onto the the chair across from Meagan.
"Yes, let's be quick about this. Tell me who threatens the Empress - names, plans, everything. In exchange, the Crown will see to it you are well rewarded."
The hyena gave a small smile and said, "It's not that simple."
"And why shouldn't it be?" Judy pressed, "You'll forgive me if I doubt you're motivated by patriotism. If you're after money, I can guarantee you'll be generously compensated. If you're after power ... the Empress never forgets a friend."
Megan laughed hollowly.
"I don't need money, and that's the problem - your Empress has too many 'friends'. No better guise for an assassin than a friendly face."
Judy groaned in frustration, and felt her ears fall behind her.
"I don't have time for games. You brought me here for a reason, so what do you want?"
"I want you to stop a mistake before it's made."
Well that's completely unhelpful, Judy bemoaned internally.
As if sensing Judy's irritation the hyena continued, "Look, I have no interest in seeing Jessamine die. City's got enough problems. But if I tell you what I know - I'm involved. So rather than risk my own neck, I'm here to tell you where to find some answers."
"You already involved yourself. You brought me here."
"You're not nearly as important as you think. To them, you're just a piece on the board."
"And who's 'them'?"
"You'll see soon enough, Lady Protector. Now, this is the mammal you're looking for."
Megan reached into her coat and withdrew a rolled piece of paper, which she offered to the rabbit. Eying the hyena suspiciously, Judy cautiously reached across the table and unrolled the paper. Drawn on it was a picture of a panther that Judy immediately recognized.
"Lord Manchas? Are you saying he's involv-" Judy heard another whoosh and when she looked up from the paper, Megan was gone.