Long in the nights before your kind rose from the mud. There was another people who walked the snow fields

They were masters of the hills and trees, lords of the plains, who named the stars and made the first fires.

The Great Neanderthals that held the world

But then you came climbing up from the south and ate them as they ran, made a mountain of their dead and took their children for your own

That is why you should all fear her

For like you, she was born starving

Deryn gave a shallow gasp and rolled off Alek with a sated groan. He lay there huffing in the dark of the early morning as she snuggled back into the crook under his shoulder.

"Happy?" he asked with a grin he didn't bother to hide.

She pressed her long tongue into the gap between her jaws and gave him a look that sent a pleasant shiver down his spine "It'll do for now," she teased, freckled skin flushed red and sweaty.

"Your bloody insatiable," he laughed, but oh god how he loved her for it.

"Hah, you can fucking talk," she said stretching her neck into the pillow, bones clicking under the skin, "you still get hard from just a bit of snogging."

"Can't help Myself, Liebe," he shot back.

"Haven't changed since you were sixteen," she muttered with a smile.

"Oh I reckon some things have changed" he smirked as one hand lazily trailed down her backside. Her eyes met his and she let out a chuckle as her own hand went wandering southward.

"Nah," she said, her hand snapped back catching his, drawing them both over her shoulder and clasping his fingers tight between their chests, "reckon that's your lot," she hissed with a giggle.

Alek kept smiling and looked over at her squirming to get closer to his body, "I love you," he muttered.

"I know," she whispered into his neck. A heartbeat later and a snoring filled his ears leaving him alone to bask in the dimming bliss and the sounds of distant cheering and breaking glass.

The Great City of Berbera, walled sanctuary of Africa, was rife with celebration. The few fireworks left lit the slowly glowing sky above and the streets were still filled with people, drink and warm light.

The Last duke had thrown his gates open for the St Clair and his citizen had thrown open their arms and in some cases their legs to the travelers from the North. Alek could still hear the shanties ringing in his ear and the beer still pleasantly numbing his mind. And then a thought came to mind and he sighed softly.

"We have that dinner tonight," he whispered to her. She was awake the moment he spoke.

"Thought you'd like that sort of thing," she stifled a yawn, "clean the mud off from the road. Bit of civilization and fancy dining."

Their fingers fiddled together beneath the covers, "It would be good," he told her, "But it feels like we've spent half our lives travelling from one tyrant to another."

"The Duke's not the Admiralty, he's not Barlow and he's not Wilhelm. He's not any of those feckers back north," she hissed into pillow.

"Wilhelm wasn't that bad," he muttered.

"He stank oil and blood and his eyes were blacker than mine," she said, "you saw what he did, heard what he said."

"I know there's still good in him," Alek said, "And now with our people safe we can get to work." he turned to her as the brunt orange light of dawn came spilling slowly through the curtains, setting her blue, blue eyes aflame, "We can get down to the proper work."

"The red work of war," she hissed and in her words he could hear the Kaiser speaking with her.

"Promises,' he told her.

She growled and her eyes darkened briefly, "you and your fecking promises," she squirmed back under the covers but kept close to his body.

He smiled sadly and chuckled to himself, "yeah, me and my fecking promises."

"Hey," She leaned up and over him the sheet falling from her and inside he near fainted at the sight of that body, "Love you too. Ya big softie,"

Alek sighed smiling up at her, his eyes shamelessly wandering, "I Know."

It was very early. Even to a man such as Sen who had carted fish through the markets from five till nine each and every day day for his family and then spent each and every night casting his line on the docks for the morrow. But the clerk who had roused had said the Duke wanted him and the Empress's words rang in his ear as he brushed off the last speck of lint from his uniform and scrubbed back his slicked hair.

I want him kneeling, she had hissed into his ear. And to Sen, who had scraped and begged his way up through alleyways to ballroom halls, knew only one way to bend men such as the Duke.

They must first be willingly.

"Your Grace," he uttered as he entered the Palace greenhouse, "A most resplendent morning greets us," he glanced at the burgeoning sun as it crept up far beyond the city's Black Walls, illuminating a thousand, thousand rooftops that ran below the plateau of the palace to the docks and the sea banks.

"Indeed, Mr Sen, a most resplendent morning," the Duke replied as he finished pruning some small imperfections on a geranium. Through grates set into the polished floor steam around the Duke as the leaned over his flowers, it curled around his silk gown and beaded gently against the braids of his hair.

Violent colours assaulted the eyes upon entering the great domed chamber, a thousand, thousand different species occupied the two stories of metal framework. Many were clearly fabricated variants, their genetic mixtures showing black roses with acidic thistle heads, tropical ferns pocked with explosions of reds and deep blues across their leaves and shrunken redwoods curling like vines around the support columns. An army of spindly ants having colonized their innards.

Even the Duke's clothes were extravagant, the silk robe was colored in blood red lions rearing at each other across a gold and white field, all spun from the silk of a giant orb spider. After a year Sen was accustomed to such theatrics.

"The pleasures of a gentleman," he observed as he came to stand at a close, but respectable distance from the duke. Fully aware of the slim gunman that watched from above, crouched on a metal rafter, rifle casually held across one knee. Always, he was aware of them.

The Duke dropped the clippers into his tool box on the bench and stepped away to a small table that sat in the center of the greenery, he sighed deeply as he shifted his bulk into one of the white iron seats

"So I was told, by men who in the end said very un-gentlemanly things," he said staring at a spot just beyond the table next to a drain in the floor, freshly washed.

"Sit." The Lord commands and the servant obeys.

The old law. Perhaps the oldest. And Sen who had done nothing but follow it all his life, did so again. With grace he pulled the second chair back and sat opposite the Duke, The Last Duke, and smiled at him. Knowing, deep in his bones, that when this man before him finally knelt, Sen would still be standing.

"They come to me today," the Duke said as poured a black steaming liquid from the kettle on the table. He sipped readily and with a hand gesture offered a cup to Sen, who like any good guest accepted, "The captain and his mistress come to me today and I will finally know the true reason of their journey."

Sen smiled deep behind his blank face. Two months he had lived behind the walls as emissary from the Empress, two months of pandering to the Duke's ego to promote his nations vested interested in the middle east. Two months of providing a necessary sounding board to the Duke's thoughts as he had provided to many others before. Two months growing slowly in the cracks of the Duke's court, listening at all times, speaking only when spoken too.

The Powerful, Sen had learned, liked to hear themselves talk and answered always.

"You suspect their intentions are not purely humanitarian?" asked Sen sipping gently at his coffee.

"I know they are not," the Duke growled, "I have had eyes on them for months, whispers from half a year ago. Now I have their names and their ship in my city," each word came as if instead of a man spoke it was lion. A great beast from the veldt come in a skinned cloak. A heavy dangerous voice that at once was as quiet as the rustling sands and as loud as drowning ocean, "They did not run that ship all this way to simply bring me starved Egyptians. They have to come make deals, they have plans."

"And what, if I may ask? Does the fair captain Ardis report on them," pressed Sen, his mask of grace slightly cracking. He could hear something in the dukes words that uneased him.

"She believes that this Aleksander, this Austrian prince is an honorable man," the duke replied stirring absently at his drink, a thick sludge really, the beans freshly ground off the bushel barely an hour ago, "That he and his girl are here to make offers to me."

"And what, if I may ask again? Are my Duke's thoughts on what this offer might be?" Sen watched carefully over the rim of his glasses.

The Last Duke of mighty Berbera, Khalameet Ib-Frey, drank the last the dregs of coffee and went to stand at the balcony that ringed his greenhouse. The Asian followed at the slight gesture of his fingers. He looked out at his city, at his kingdom, as it awoke from the long night of revelry. Over the roofs and through the Smokey haze, under the dark sky and pink glowing clouds.

"See, Mr Sen," he whispered reverently, "See what the Germans send me, See what the Iron Kings gift me."

The Mann'O'War, St Clair, sat sulking in dry dock. Her stacks quiet of exhaust, her turrets waiting patiently on their cradles and her crew taking quarter throughout his city. The great metal terror loomed before him, one could almost say it was watching him back. As dangerous as any airship or cold-skinned Kraken.

"What do I think, Mr Sen?" he asked rhetorically, "I think this new world calls her champions. I think her heralds have come knocking. All of them. I am now suddenly in their sights, and they have brought a question." He reached deep into the folds of his gown and withdrew a scroll of paper. He held it out and Sen came wordless over and grasped it. Khal waited as his guest read the elegantly scrawl. Sen let his hand drop as he read the last line, his face a mass of defeat and shock.

"It arrived yesterday," supplied the Duke, "By eagle."

"How many others?" asked Sen quietly.

"Several that I know of, sent to all other cities up the coast and across to the peninsular. Perhaps as far as your homeland." Khal retrieved the scroll.

"nearly twenty years," Sen whispered, "and we have heard nothing."

Khal smiled as the sun finally crested the city walls and hit his face with warm light, "The British are coming, Mr Sen," he laughed, a deep hearty thing, "Oh! They are coming!" he roared into the morning. Once he knelt. Once. No more.

"The Suez still flows, the oil still froths and they are all coming now." The Duke turned to Sen resting against the rail, "I am to be besieged," he said it as if he relished the challenge, "They want passage into the Freestates, but now they must ask for it or..." And here Khal smiled wide, "Take it."

And then Sen understood as he looked once more at the St Clair resting in its great cradle, "They bribe you?"

Khal shrugged, "The Germans are tired of war, look where the last one left them, trapped behind that storm front. But their engines need fuel and they have been busy building for the future. so they send me this gift in hopes of opening trade." He pursed his lips and nodded approvingly, "A good move I feel," he said absently.

"But the British," said Sen sadly, "have not learned."

"In a way I admire them," Khal replied, "They held the world. Would you be so willing to let it slip from your fingers? But a lass the world changes and many lose their grip. As it has always been." The duke laughed gently and looked out at his waking kingdom and beyond to the dust savannah and even further out the shimmering sea where his fleet slept at anchor, "The question has been asked, Mr Sen, we must all choose our answer carefully." Sen looked at the man who would never kneel and understood as he looked at this great bearded man, saw the grin he wore and his burning eyes that perhaps he had been wrong.

Yes the British were coming and yes the Germans were sending gifts of iron and fire to secure needed trade. The Freestates rested across the middle east, the northern tribes left in ruins had named their champion in Berbera to meet the invaders anew. But Sen and the Duke could not have known, could not have seen the plans beyond these simple designs. They could not yet know the truth of what lay ahead. Yet they would not be blinded for long. Like arrows across the great map of the world, the fleets were moving. See the airships cruising across the black sky, the sight of armored whales swimming between great cliffs of frosty cloud banks. Imagine iron ships rolling over the blue deep with behemoths trailing at the promise of fresh meat. And see the strange beasts waiting in the dark listening to their lady.

Newkirk grunted as he pulled at the tie around his neck, choked down a cough as he loosed it a few merciful degrees. He checked his cuffs, his fathers links shining silver at the edges. he pulled at the jackets lapels smoothing the fabric and nodded approvingly at himself in the basin mirror. His uniform was old and tattered and patched at the elbows, but it was his and by god did he look good in it. He looked deep at the face in the screen and noticed how old it looked.

"How long," he muttered softly, rubbing his freshly shaved muzzle, fingers grazing against the black stubble and a decade of tiny Knicks and acne scars. the soft features in that face had now with the passing of time settled into a strong jaw and wide cheeks, a nice stony round face with mellow deep brown eyes, and dark that ran lighter at the ends. Oh how he wished the girls in the school house could see him now. Six feet and a rigger's life having brought out a tidy figure. How he wished his mum could see him now.

You will be a good boy won't you? stay on the right side. her faded words softly whispering in his head, "Always," he whispered blinking away the sudden wetness.

"What?" mumbled a voice from beneath the covers, just woken up.

"Nothing," he said over his shoulder, he sniffed deep and gave himself one last check in the mirror and moved to curtains, the streets below were filled with business, vendors flogging their wears, trades being made and voices haggling violently under the burning sun.

"Going?" asked a curvy figure from the bed, a hint of disappointment lurking in her words.

Newkirk walked over to the bedside table and let a stack of polished coins clink onto the wood. He smiled sadly at the whore, "Aye, 'fraid so," he told her and there was no lie in his words, "But there's work to be done."

The words felt heavy in his mouth as he turned from the warm bed and the warm legs. He left the hotel and out onto the busy streets striding down the causeway. He smiled under the sun feeling the heat make his skin start to bead with sweat. He turned down several lanes before the buildings parted onto a great avenue that seemed to split the city from the docks to the waiting palace.

White marble pillars and red tiled roofs sitting atop a false hill of carved stone, the road curled up to the gates and beyond where it forked into a path to the undercroft for wagons and a wide stepped way up to the palace itself.

"Ready, middy?" asked a voice at his shoulder. He snapped a crisp salute.

"Aye, ma'am, reporting for duty," he near shouted with a cheeky grin.

"Race you for a tenner," Deryn teased.

"Reckon he'd have a chance if we tied an anchor to you," said Alek coming up behind the pair, he was fiddling with his collar. Deryn came up and also began fiddling with him. And Newkirk felt a sudden burst of jealousy in his heart at that sight. Not of Alek or Deryn, but of the simple twinning of fingers.

"Ready?" he asked quietly.

Alek pulled at his lapels and turned to him, "As long as you're sure of playing Ardis." Newkirk grinned impishly at that and pulled at a deck of cards from his breast pocket.

"A better hand you'll not find," Newkirk bragged, "besides I think she likes me."

Alek blinked, "If you say so."

Newkirk winked, "I can be quite charming when I want to be, trust me."

Deryn sighed deeply, "Oh we of little faith." She slipped one arm into one of Alek's

"Just try not to cause an incident," Alek said pointedly.

Newkirk snorted and began to stride up to the palace, "Now that's something I can bet on."