Your room at the Grimalkin & Rooster

The common room at the Grimalkin & Rooster is well-frequented despite the late hour. Traders and Mariners, burghers and prostitutes crowd the polished Sporewood benches, drunk on Workermash Rum, Root Beer and Sow ****.

A drunk has seized the piano on the small stage in the far corner. He tortures the keys to produce a melody reminiscent of a popular drinking song, and the guests chant and stomp a similar tune. The air smells of food, **** and stale sweat. You consider a nightcap, but a reveller emptying her stomach too close to your feet dissuades you, and you ask for your room instead.

The Innkeeper’s Eldest, her prim dress tempered by an agreeable smile, shows you upstairs. Her ass sways with each step, and her tight skirt moves higher. You catch a glimpse of white underwear when she, bending low, lets you in. ”Welcome to the Grimalkin and Rooster, Sir. Please enjoy your stay.” She hands you your keys and extends her palms.

You find a few scarps in your pocket, and she curtsies before accepting the tip.

”Sir,” she says, smiles, and is gone.

The room is small but clean: fresh linens on a squeaky bed, a chest for your possessions, and even a desk by the road-facing window. It is almost quiet with the door closed.

You undress, but sleep eludes you. The evening and salt-sharp memories weigh on your mind, heavy at first, they soon send it racing. Your lips are dry and taste of wine, and the room begins to spin. The Titan’s offer did not surprise you, not exactly, but its enormity builds and builds, and threatens to tow you under. Cold sweat drips from your brow as you jump out of bed. The Tar Lamp on the desk produces a dim and dirty light, but it serves. You scribble down thoughts and plans. Vague ideas and detailed calculations – and with each stroke of the pen your confidence returns.

Your arms grow weary as the morning greys, and your ideas have grown fanciful. You fall back into bed; suddenly dead tired. The firm land brings strange dreams – not bad, just strange.

You wake filled with manic energy and ready to take on the world. The Innkeeper’s Eldest brings breakfast, smiling all the while. You study last night’s schemes (most continue to make sense) and the paper with your coffee.

But before you can put your plans into action, there is one thing you need to do before anything else.