“Please. Explain to me how men are more qualified to rule than women.” - Ghella Vhen, Second Emperor (First Empress) of Kem, speaking to the Royal Court following the defeat of her brothers in combat for the throne. All three of them. At the same time.

"Hey, watch it!" shouted Issa at the deckhands lowering one of the huge boxes from the ship onto the loading dock of the pier. One of them had let his rope slip and as a result, the crate had nearly gone into the water. "If that goes over the side you’re swimming down and bringing it back up." The worker mumbled something as the other hands mocked him. Issa blushed and walked away as the jokes at the man’s expense started getting into territory only his wife could comment on.

She turned her attention to the men on the dock who were pushing an identical crate into the warehouse. It was a task made somewhat easier by the addition of wheels to the bottom, but they were still sweating and complaining under their breath. Issa was itching to get her hands on the contents of the boxes, but she knew that she wouldn’t be able to until much later in the evening.

"That’s last of them, Miss Forth," called the captain of the ship, cunningly named the ’River Wench’. It was an uninspiring example of a river boat, average in just about every aspect save for the amount of filth it had seemed to collect, which was nothing short of amazing. The captain had invited her aboard to inspect her merchandise, but Issa had flatly refused, stating health concerns. The captain, who was not quite as dirty as his vessel, grinned widely and ordered his boys to be about unloading. Now, he swung himself down to the pier via a handy rope and walked over to Issa.

"Excellent, Captain Marsh," said Issa smiling, "I was becoming worried that the Wench might sink while you were unloading."

"Oh, don’t you worry, lass." Marsh grinned, his teeth surprisingly white and clean, "The Wench is a fine ship. Gods know that she works harder than any of those blasted wretches up there. Yet, you mention coin, and even they will get up and move some cargo." Issa smiled and reached into one of the many pockets in her leather coveralls, pulling out a jingling pouch.

"Why don’t we settle up then, Captain," she said, "Before your crew mutinies, or whatever is growing on the side of the ship manages to set root in the Imperial City."

"Terrible that would be," agreed Marsh, with a wink. "I think we can both agree, the more time spent away from the Empire the happier a person is." Issa poured coins out of the pouch and counted them out until the agreed upon sum sat in Marsh’s filthy hands. Then she added another twenty percent and winked at the Captain as he eyed her doubtfully. "What’s that for, Miss Forth? You know that I believe in fair pay for a fair job."

"So do I," replied Issa, and covered her nose waving at the men on the ship who were leering at her and Marsh, "But I also believe that you, your men, and your, ahem, ship, could all use a thorough cleaning. Consider it ... a service to the Empire."

"Clean the Wench?" asked Captain Marsh, shocked, "Why, she’s earned every stain and dent. I wouldn’t dream of it! If you want the crew clean, on the other hand, it’ll take more than this handful of iron to do the job. Most of them have a mortal fear of soap, one has an actual allergy." He said the last loud enough so his voice carried up to his men up above, who called down jeers and insults back at him.

"Then I’d caution you against the Emperor catching wind of you gentlemen," Issa smirked at Captain Marsh. "He has such a delicate nose, you know. It might be worth as much as your life if you were to pass him and he should sneeze at the offense." Marsh’s eyes narrowed. He understood the warning. There were a lot of ears on the riverfront, and Issa couldn’t very well tell him to make himself scarce for a while.

Captain Marsh and the Wench were old hands at running contraband in and out of the Imperial City, and the extra money was both a message to make himself scarce for a while, and to cover bribe money so that the right officials would forget that he’d been through. Issa had worked with the Captain a couple times now, and was comfortable enough with the procedure to have a little fun with it, and with him. She knew that, no matter what she looked like, the Wench was actually quite the solidly built ship, and performed a fair bit better than many of the Imperial patrol ships running up and down the river. Marsh smiled widely, his white teeth all but glowing against the oil smudges on his face and clothes, and bowed deeply, earning some more insults from his men.

"Well then, Miss Forth," he projected his voice behind him, so his crew could hear, "Being as you’re so concerned for these fine lads here," They cheered at Issa, "We may just take your money and go find us a nice place to wash up down the coast a ways. You know how to get ahold of us if you need my fine ship again."

"Oh, I do, Captain," assured Issa, and accepted the Captain’s offered hand and shook it. He didn’t try and crush her hand, as he might have when they’d first met. He’d mistaken her for her brother’s secretary, and treated her like a child. When she’d disabused him of that notion, he’d attempted to intimidate her with some rather trite male tactics, like the “firm” handshake. That had all changed when the River Wench had blown a vital engine component that was both expensive to replace and would have laid the ship up for a week. Issa had patched it together in a day and fixed a problem she had with burning too much oil. She’s also given two of his crew concussions when they’d attempted to take liberties with her posterior. Since then he’d treated her with more respect than he did her brother, Landem and his crew… Well, they were still sailors, but at least the steered clear of her. "Rest assured, we’ll probably have work for you and your fragrant crew soon enough. Safe waters."

"May the Emperor’s eyes see only your shadow," said Marsh as he turned, winked, and climbed back onto the deck of his boat. Several other sailors scurried off and unmoored the ship before scrambling back aboard themselves. Moments later, the engine gave a mighty cough, spitting black smoke that filled the air with the smell of burning oil before the ship began to pull away, moving with the current to the coast and out of Imperial territory.

Issa watched the ship chug off for a few minutes, and let out a breath she didn’t realize that she’d been holding. It was late afternoon and the summer sun beat down on the docks mercilessly; the only reprieve was the cool wind and infrequent spray that rose from the Kem River. The piers were alive with men moving cargo onto and off of ships and the air was full of the noise of men swearing, laughing and barking orders. She stood there and let the buzz of activity around her sooth her nerves.

She hadn’t heard from her brother or anyone who’d gone with him into the Citadel the night before last, but that had been the plan. If all had gone well, then Landem, Celis, Ben and Devon would have made straight for the river, in an attempt to make it look like they were fleeing to one of the Empire’s neighbors.

For a plan that involved sneaking into the Emperor of Kem’s stronghold and home, it was pretty good. The allied Free States would pay handsomely for the Empire’s Forgetech, but the Sunderers didn’t need money at the moment. Issa imagined that their recent acquisitions would eventually find their way across the border and aid the states’ efforts in catching up with the Empire’s technological advantage. Right now, that didn’t concern Issa. Truth be told, the Free States would probably never achieve parity with the Empire, not so long as it had the Blackforge.

"Gods, the Blackforge," thought Issa, turning to face the Citadel. You could see it from anywhere in the city, but here, on the river’s edge, there weren’t any buildings to block the view. The Imperial Citadel stood at the top of a massive plateau, the walls surrounding the main complex impossible to assail. From this distance, she couldn’t see the weapons that lined those steel fortifications, but she knew they were there, and could obliterate whole armies. And at its heart, lay the true power of the Empire: The Blackforge.

Issa hadn’t been able to sleep for their first few days in Kemaire. There was a palpable sensation of energy from the city, almost a sub-audible thrumming like she was standing near power lines. It wasn’t until a couple days later that she realized she hadn’t been imagining it. When she turned toward the Citadel the sensation changed and became akin to a chill wind on her face. It was the Blackforge, she realized, emanating its baleful energy that was the heart of the Emperor’s power.

Issa had no idea how anyone could stand it, living so near something that burned like a cold star, blanketing the landscape in its malevolence. Soon, though, the sensation faded, until she couldn’t even feel it unless she specifically tried. When she’d asked Landem she discovered that she was the only one who felt anything from it. Why that was, she couldn’t say, but it piqued her curiosity.

She lingered for a couple minutes, pondering before she turned and walked into the warehouse. She regretted it immediately. Some quirk of the warehouse’s construction prevented the cool wind off the river from circulating and the building virtually baked in the summer. The men inside seemed immune to the discomfort, though, and continued to work, moving in the last of the large crates from the dock. Issa made her way to the office that overlooked the cavernous room.

Once inside she closed the door behind her and lifted the heavy steel cap from a box beside the door. Instantly the air in the office changed from stifling to refreshing as a smooth sphere of metal, covered in silver Etching, sucked the heat out of the air. A light wind moved toward it for a moment, and frost thickened on the inside of the metal box until Issa closed the lid again. She rubbed her suddenly chill fingers to restore the circulation and sat down in front of the desk.

She should be taking care of the paperwork for the warehouse, helping to maintain the completely legitimate business that allowed the Sunderers to operate out of it. She hated paperwork with a passion, and she was far too worried about Landem and the rest of the cell to get anything done. Instead, she took out a pad of paper, remembering the distant energy of the Blackforge flowing through her, and began sketching, letting her gift carry her away for a while.

Issa preferred ‘gifted’ over ‘Forgemind’. She felt like being called a Forgemind linked her too closely with the Empire, and the Emperor himself. Ghreman Vhen, all the Emperors of Kem, shared her gift. Or rather, she shared theirs. She’d never been too clear on that.

Either way, Issa possessed a natural affinity for Forgecraft that allowed her and those like her to create wonders. Forgeminds, one and all, created the runes that were used in the Etchings that made all Forgecraft work. She was brilliant when it came to metallurgy, forging, engineering and a dozen other fields that came as naturally to her as breathing.

While anyone could learn simple runes, Etch them into steel and add Forgefire to energize them, it took a Forgemind, like her or the Emperor, to create true Forgecraft, and she loved it. She could get lost for hours on end, creating a new Etching, or rune pattern just for the joy of creation. When they got their hands on a new piece of Forgetech that she’d never seen before, sometimes she fancied she could see the Forgefire running through it like blood through a body, and could spend days figuring out what it did and how it did it.

She didn’t know how long her pencil had been scratching away at the paper, sketching potential flows of power. She looked up when the foreman knocked politely on the office door and wasn’t surprised to see the sun had set in the west, only a faint orange glow reflecting off the river. The room had warmed appreciably and could do with another cooling from the ice stone. Celis might have chided her for losing so much time, but the work had calmed her mind and kept her from stressing for the last hour or so. Celis thought that Issa needed to spend more time interacting with people.

"Come in," Issa said, shaking her head a little to clear it and bring herself back into the real world. Landem always made fun of her for how she could get lost in her own thoughts for hours, sometimes days at a time, but he never complained when the result was a new device that helped them in their fight against the Empire. Still, she knew better than to get too lost while she was effectively on her own.

The door opened and Creig, the foreman, entered. "Just wanted to let you know that I was heading out for the day. Everyone else is gone and I was about to lock up."

"Thanks," Issa smiled. She liked Creig. Despite being a hulking brute of a man, he was intelligent and diligent in his work. He was also a perfect gentleman, which Issa found refreshing, as she was used to dealing with her brother and his fellow rogues. "I’ll be sticking around for a little while to finish up some business."

"Would you like me to stay around until you’re ready to leave?" asked Creig, "I’d be happy to walk you back to your house." Issa didn’t have a house, exactly, but a building that her employees were lead to believe was her home. From anyone else, Issa would have expected a leer and suggestive tone to have accompanied the offer, but Creig was absolutely genuine.

"No, but thank you," replied Issa politely, "You’ve already stayed late as it is, and I’m sure your wife is waiting for you."

"Most likely, ma’am," said her foreman, smiling, "I’ll be off then."

"Have a nice night, and see you tomorrow morning," said Issa as she waved. "We only have the one shipment to send out, and nothing coming in, so it’ll be a short day."

"Lull before the storm?" asked Creig.

"You know it. Say hi to Lauren for me."

"I will," assured Creig, and walked out of the office, closing the door behind him.

Though running the shipping company that served as her cell’s front wasn’t always exciting business, Issa enjoyed it. Landem’s idea of leasing one of his smuggler friends’ warehouses for their base was pretty good, but he’d never considered actually using it for its intended purposes. Under her management, the warehouse was not only a base of operations for Landem’s clandestine activities but also a moderately profitable shipping business, both for legal and illegal goods.

Initially, Landem had opposed any sort of activity that would draw Imperial attention to them, but Issa quickly proved that properly bribed officials wouldn’t be wasting time looking for Sunderer hideouts inside a smuggler’s hideout. Especially not a smuggler who paid her bribes on time and wasn’t above tossing in a little extra. While it was every Imperial officer’s sword duty to report any illegal activity to their superiors, the reality was that the further up the chain the report went, the thinner the bribe money. Most of the cargo inspectors found it easier just to keep the information, and the bribe money, to themselves.

Issa stood to cool the room down again, when she felt a buzz from her pocket. A sudden rush of adrenaline made it hard to stay calm. She left the office, locking it behind her, and walked quickly to the lower floor. She pulled the gently pulsing disc of metal, finely Etched with silver, out of her pocket and traced her finger along it in a pattern, then tapped it three times. It buzzed twice, then once, then three times in response and Issa breathed a sigh of relief. Landem and the rest were back. She could only hope that they’d been successful at acquiring what they’d gone to get from the Citadel.

Creig had turned the lights out before locking up the outer doors, which left the warehouse as dark as a cave, but Issa easily found her way through the boxes to the grate in the floor. Two figures were waiting for her in the darkness. Issa let out a cry of relief and threw herself around the smaller of the two. A masculine voice let out a grunt as he caught her weight and hugged her tight.

"Gods, Devon," Issa kissed him once on the mouth, then on the cheek, running a hand through his blond hair, "I was so worried about you!"

"Easy there, Bolts." Devon let her drop back to the floor, though he still hugged her tight. His usual playfulness was gone from his voice and Issa pulled away. He looked awful in the dim light, his face drawn with worry.

"What happened?" The bottom dropped out of Issa’s stomach and suddenly aware of the absences of the other two members of their cell. "Where’s Landem and Ben?"

"Ben’s doing another security sweep; you know him." Celis broke her silence and leaned down to a grate set in the floor. It was large and square, easily a meter on each side, looking like it weighed a ton. "Landem was captured on our way out. He’s alive, but ..." Celis hesitated as Issa felt the blood drain from her face. Dread coiled like an agitated serpent in her belly. "You know how the Empire treats its captives."

Celis was Landem’s second in command. Normally, she was calm and collected, but now she looked distracted and distraught. Her red hair had partially pulled free from the tight braid she kept it in, giving her a slightly frazzled look. She gripped her iron knuckles in each hand hard enough that Issa imagined that she might bend them out of shape. That was unlikely, since Issa had made those knuckles herself, and knew that even a stone wall would give way to them. Still, Celis’ impressive muscles were taut with stress, and she kept casting her head over her shoulder, like she were just waiting for Imperial soldiers to pour into the building.

Celis’ mouth moved, but Issa couldn’t hear anything over the sudden roar of her own pulse. A hundred stories of the Empire’s brutality crashed through her mind with Landem inserted into the role of victim. Then the chain of action and consequence caught up with her.

"We’re have to leave." Devon raised an eyebrow at Celis, and Issa realized she’d probably repeated what Celis had said a moment before. Her face flushed in embarrassment, but Devon gave her a quick hug with one arm. It made her feel a bit better. She pushed all her fear for her brother to the back of her mind and focused on what needed to be done.

"Can we take cargo?" Celis gestured at the crates surrounding them in the darkened warehouse. Issa quickly considered the weight of each one and shook her head.

"We could, maybe, take four." The contents of the crates were, by their nature, hard to move. They’d been fortunate that Captain Marsh’s ship had been available and capable of moving them at all. Issa had been intending to move them to her workshop that she’d set up in the secret basement. Now Issa was kicking herself for not planning for the contingency of having to move them sooner. "We’ve only got the one hauler right now, and loading them on is going to take time." Issa indicated the truck, sitting still in the dark warehouse.

"Alright," Celis looked at Devon, "You and Ben get them on the hauler, fast as you can. Issa, do whatever you can to secure our operation here. If we can get Landem back, and yes, we’re going to try, then I want to be able to come back if we can. Also, get anything that you think you might need to get these working again." Celis banged her fist gently on the box soon to be bound for their safe house. Issa nodded.

"I’ll leave instructions for Creig to attend to business for a couple days. If I leave enough money he should be able to continue for a while." Issa bit her lip in worry and frustration. Sure, there was a chance that nothing would happen to Creig or his family should the Imps come knocking, looking for them, but it was more likely he’d be arrested when he couldn’t give them any information on Issa’s whereabouts. She could warn him, of course, but that would completely ruin what they’d built here over the last couple of years. Was the chance of keeping that in tact worth the fate of those who worked for her. Celis knew what she was thinking though.

"Don’t worry. We’ll keep an eye on things here and make sure that our people don’t suffer for us." She smiled and her teeth were surprisingly bright in the darkness. "They may not belong to the Sunderers, but they’re still ours. And we don’t leave our own behind."

Next Chapter: Chapter 4: Landem