They decided in the wake of the sudden mummification of Nevsky that following up on the lead with the crime lord Kisaragi was their next best move. After making sure to check and strap on all their weapons, they left their home, with strict instructions to Elroy to make sure the body was nowhere to be found when they returned. The three walked quietly, with their heads low and their eyes darting side to side, towards that wretched hive of scum and villainy: Bricktown. It loomed over them like a mountain, scowling forbiddingly at all who approached. A dark halo of sooty smoke hung like a pall over the entire affair; the lung-ruining effluvia of thousands of coal fires that burned within. Looking upwards, they could see the tiny figures of the homeless and destitute that lived their entire lives on the rooftop of Bricktown wandering about like ants. There didn't seem to be any obvious way to reach the roof besides jumping off an airship.

A sturdy hulk with a massive hauberk-encrusted belly spilling out over his belt stood guard at the frowning gate. There was a fair amount of traffic coming, as it was nearly time for another work shift to change over, and people were coming and going. The guard half-watched the flow of humanity with a bored expression. He did note the PCs weapons, but did not seem inclined to question them. And then they passed the threshold into Bricktown.

Immediately their vision shifted. It was extremely gloomy in Bricktown as they walked away from the sunlight at the gate. The light was shortened by the thick haze of smoke the floated in the corridors, adding an acrid odor that partially helped obscure the rank smell of human filth and rot. Torches and gas lanterns lined the walls at frequent intervals, giving the entire interior of Bricktown a ghoulish orange glow. Alleys and streets were narrow, cramped and winding, choked with piles of rubbish, collapsed heaps of bricks and wood, and the inert forms of beggers who's hold on life (or lack thereof) was difficult to ascertain. The dark vastness of Bricktown yawned before them like a labyrinth.

"So, anyone know where we're headed?" asked Tson.

"Sure," Konrad answered. "Just a sec..."

He reached out and nabbed a thin, soot-stained and hunched man by the arm, spinning him around to face them. Konrad's hands suddenly had a gold mark peeking out through his fingers. "Here, can you take us to the Steams?"

The man nodded greedily, never taking his eye off the gold, and they followed him silently into the darkness that was Bricktown. The healthy light of day from the gate faded behind them and they were soon swallowed by the smoke. The man they followed did occasionally make some small talk, but he quickly fell silent. The ambiance in Bricktown was oppressive. People they passed in the street spoke in whispers, if at all, and hurried past them, their eyes cast downward. Their guide's eyes darted sideways, and upwards.

Konrad looked around, trying to follow his gaze despite the stinging smoke in his eyes. He saw a flash of movement; what looked briefly like a man with a crossbow ducking out of sight in a window ahead. Konrad tapped Tson on the shoulder, and when he turned around, he gave him a meaningful look and gripped his weapons. Tson got the hint and gave a similar non-verbal cue to Rosham.

"We're almost there; it's just on the other side of this alleywuurk..." said the guide. Tson had thrown him hard against the brickwall, knocking loose mortar dust that fell over him like a pale shower. There was a soft click, and Konrad had a pistol against his head, the hammer cocked.

"I think you should call off your goons and take us to the real Steams this time, before I blow your %@$#ing head off." The guide swallowed hard.

"Back off!" he yelled hoarsely, clearing his throat and coughing dust and soot from his lungs. "Back off!" They all heard some clattering from above and then silence. The guard stood slowly, never taking his eyes off the barrel of the gun pointed directly at his face. He gulped again and wiped gray mortar dust from his face. "Let's go this way," he said, and then led them back the way they had come.

"Just remember, this gun is going to be pointed directly at your head until we get there," Konrad chipped in cheerfully. They walked for about fifteen more minutes in a completely different direction until they came to a red building with a sign over it that had simply The Steams carved in faded and silvered wood. Appropriately enough, it was humid and foggy near the door; steam leaking from the bath house.

The guide turned around then to tell them that they had arrived when Konrad casually shot him in the knee. He fell heavily to the ground screaming and moaning, soaking the cobblestone street in a spreading pool of blood.

"Thanks for your help!" Konrad added, spitting on him as he walked by. They opened the door and walked in.

The Steams was unlike anything else they had yet seen in Bricktown; there was a small lobby where they currently found themselves, manned by a thin and stiff man in an uncomfortable-looking suit. But everything about the lobby spoke of magnificent opulence. Dark reddish wood panelling, oiled and polished, covered the walls. Heavy woven carpets with fantastic designs picked out in gold thread blanketted the floor; they were clearly imported from below the Cloudwall where such things were made for kings and emperors. The dim gaslights burned clean and white, and there was a perfumed smell of sweet-smelling spice. Behind the desk was a thick maroon curtain.

Rosham quickly put away his rapier that he had drawn when they discovered the threacherous guide's duplicity and motioned for the others to stow their weapons as well. He smoothed his hair and approached the man at the desk. "Yes, we need to speak with Mr. Eiji Kisaragi, please. It concerns some cargo he was trying to ship into Razina via caravan."

"Do you have an appointment?" answered the man with a condescending glance at the Bred, and Konrad's rustic appearance.

Rosham smiled, showing his gleaming teeth. His eyes remained quite cold. "I'm sure he will want to see us."

The man behind the desk coughed quietly and the curtain parted. Two enormous men in armor and holding a brace of pistols stepped out to look coldly at the three visitors. Konrad stepped back and put his hand on the butt of his pistol. Rosham kept his smile, despite the tension in the room. The two men were dark-haired and dark-eyed with somewhat sallow skin and epicanthic folds. The were Unbred, but clearly not native to the region.

With a strong, lilting accent, one of the two brutes spoke. "Mr. Kisaragi is not available right now. Perhaps you can describe your business and make an appointment."

"I strongly feel we should only describe our business directly with Mr. Kisaragi," Rosham continued, ignoring the guns pointed in his direction. "I believe we can reach an accomodation that is mutually beneficial."

"You will not be seeing Mr. Kisaragi right now. If you do not make an appointment, it is best if you leave."

"What is your name?" Rosham asked. "We will be sure to mention that you delayed us when we meet with Mr. Kisaragi and present him with our plan."

One of the big men suddenly laughed out loud and put away his guns. The other packed up his weapons as well, then turned and walked back through the curtain. With a nod, the thin man behind the desk also turned around and left.