“I’ll try my best,” Karl said, grabbing Kara by the hand and nodding to Björn, Mýra, and the Trickster.

  “Farewell, Future One,” Ragnar said, saluting them with Mjölnir, which crackled with lightning.

  “You ready?” Kara asked as they sat on the lip of the stone well.

  Karl cleared his throat. “I’ll be—” but the Trickster cut him off, grabbing Karl by his glowing antlered helm and throwing his whole body weight into the well. Karl unwillingly dove in headfirst into the inky black waters. He was too freaked out by being swallowed by utter blackness to try to destroy the Trickster.

  And just like with the historical quests that Mímir granted, he found himself surrounded by nothing.

  What felt like an eternity later, Karl felt the water wet and thick around him. Then the darkness began to rip away as light flickered above him.

  Location Discovered: Rome

  His internal map updated with a huge display of the great city, but he was too busy swimming with all of his might to get out of the water. He burst through the surface at the same time that Kara, Björn, Mýra, and the Trickster did.

  His eyes immediately seized upon the robotic squirrel, who had already scurried away onto the stone floor of what looked to be a cave. But it was no ordinary cave. Intermixed with the limestone were carved marble slabs that continued in a sloped passage that led upwards to some distant room. On the walls was something Karl did not expect, but had begun hearing reports about, thanks to Egil. The walls were reinforced with brass ribs, while steam hissed from narrow cracks above them, and pipes snaked through the cave like metal vines.

  And thanks to Karl’s Lunar Sight, he could hear the heavy pulse of what sounded like piston engines somewhere above them, almost like a mechanical heartbeat.

  “What is this place?” Björn asked, as each of them stared at the strange sights with wonder.

  “Do you smell that?” Kara asked, looking to Karl as they floated. Karl sniffed, inhaling frankincense, myrrh—and was that amber oil?

  Even the lanterns were strange, which they investigated after hoisting themselves up onto the marble platform. There were brass lanterns with carvings of what looked like a she-wolf nursing two children; each glowed with blue-white rune cores.

  Karl instantly got steampunk vibes from this cave, which didn’t make any sense since this was ancient Rome. But across from them, a bronze plaque hammered into the wall told them all they needed to know about why Rome was far more advanced than they had expected:

  Luperco Redux, Imp. Maximus I, Architect of the New Age.

  “Well,” Björn said, as he gripped his battle-ax glowing faintly with Bifrost effects, “I guess there’s no doubting whether or not the Emperor can fulfill your wish of a fleet.”

  “No kidding,” Karl said, as they studied the advanced industrial work. And then the smell of food and perfumes and body odor slammed into Karl and Kara as a gust of wind came from above.

  “I think I smell food,” the Trickster said as he jumped off Karl’s shoulder and raced up the marbled slope.

  “How does he smell anyway?” Karl asked out loud, still annoyed.

  Kara shook her head. “Let’s just make sure he doesn’t get himself killed.”

  “How unfortunate that would be,” Karl said sarcastically.

  They only started to run when, a second later, they heard shouting in a foreign tongue they could not understand, followed quickly by the Trickster.

  “Why don’t you believe that I was just made by your Emperor?” the Trickster said, followed by metal striking against a marble floor.

  Karl sighed as he whipped out his bow and chased after the squirrel.

  Before they could reach the top, Karl sensed the five heartbeats thudding with adrenaline, causing his throat to tighten. The moment his eyes fell upon them, he was stunned to see the warriors who held spears pointed at Ratatoskr on the ground.

  They each wore billowing, bright red capes and looked exactly like what Karl expected a Roman soldier to be. Each of them wore the typical brass helmets with a red plume over their heads, but they had pivoting goggles attached to gears on either side of their helmets. Even their armor, which had bronze plates, was reinforced with clockwork hinges. Each soldier had a gladius at his side, and their spears could fire off a single shot from the tip, which the Trickster barely jumped away from as two guards closed in on him.

  “Wait, he’s with us! Karl said, raising his bow and his other hand in the air as a sign of peace. The soldiers turned on him, ready to fire their single-shot javelins, but they held their ground. “We’re here for the Games,” Karl continued, showing them the paper he carried, which they could see through their machine-like visors.

  They quickly straightened and pulled back their spears. “Make sure you don’t cause any trouble,” the one at the center said, taller than the rest and with a deeper voice.

  “Where’s the VIP service?” Ratatoskr complained as he leaped onto Karl’s shoulder and stuck his metal tongue out at the guards as they passed by.

  “Just stay with us next time,” Karl muttered.

  “No promises,” Ratatoskr said as they walked out into the middle of a city.

  Karl heard Kara and Mýra take a breath of surprise at the impressive sight before them. Even Björn was blown away, crossing his arms as they all took in the eternal industrial city.

  They found themselves on a road with what looked to be imperial villas towering high above them on steep rock to their left. Karl was faintly familiar with Palatine Hill from history class, but it looked nothing like what he had been told. The imperial homes were now crowned with brass and marble towers, smoke stacks, and pipes that seemed to be almost everywhere in the city.

  Strangely, he saw a few golden eagles circling the towers, clicking their wings with clockwork motion as they hunted the streets. To their right was a giant arena where Karl could hear chariots racing inside. At regular intervals surrounding the arena were steam vents releasing bursts of hot vapor. Hanging from the marble columns and pillars on both the arena and the houses near them were glowing red banners advertising the Emperor’s Grand Tournament.

  Karl felt completely dwarfed by how big the city was. He could hardly see the sky.

  “I’m off to the Circus Maximus to make some bets,” Ratatoskr said, jumping off Karl’s shoulder now that he felt safe. “Or maybe check out Alexander the Great’s golden sarcophagus filled with honey. The Emperor had it specially made, just like the one in the old world, after he killed him. I’m dying to taste it!”

  But the moment the squirrel hit the crowded streets, a group of kids ran by, chasing each other in a game of tag.

  Ratatoskr recoiled sharply, scrambling backward as the kids pointed at him and laughed, saying something in their Roman dialect Karl couldn’t understand. The Trickster tucked his tail between his legs and jumped back onto Karl’s shoulder, seemingly disturbed.

  “Wait, how did that guard speak to us?” Karl asked.

  “He must have picked up a translation skill,” Björn said, his battleaxe sheathed on his back but his body still visibly tense from being in a foreign world.

  It seemed those guards were the only ones who could speak Norse, as the hundreds of people passing by on the crowded cobblestones gawked at Karl and his friends and spoke in their strange dialect.

  “Let’s see if we can find where to sign up for the Games,” Karl said before taking the lead.

  He had no idea where he was going as they began walking through the jam-packed streets, though he could see on his internal parchment map the gist of their surroundings. The city was absolutely huge and a maze they could get lost in, especially if it became dark.

  Within five minutes of walking, Karl immediately longed for Visby’s quiet, cozy lifestyle. It was simply loud here in Rome. Steam blasted from pipes sneaking above the rock cleft, and from the vents around them, vendors called from their market stands, saying words he could not understand.

  Hot focaccia and fish mixed with the ever-present ashy coal smoke from the hundreds of chimneys sprouting around Rome. Perhaps the most offensive smell was from what looked like a brothel house they passed, where an array of beautiful, scantily dressed women hung outside the doors and blushed at Karl and Björn as they passed by.

  Karl kept his eyes away and gripped Kara’s hand tighter, but a few of the girls whistled at Björn. From the corner of his eye, Karl saw him smirk reflexively. Mýra wasn’t pleased with that; she looked away quickly.

  Karl tried asking about a dozen people where to find the Colosseum to sign up, but no one could understand him. However, a few pointed north, saying the word Forum over and over as Karl showed them the tournament paper.

  He looked at Kara, who only shrugged, and Björn and Mýra were completely unhelpful as they both seemed too distracted by their own thoughts and the sights around them. Eventually, after weaving through the packed streets and passing several more squads similar to the ones guarding the well, they came to where his map had indicated was the Forum.

  It was a square-shaped district centered on what looked like a giant magical engine tower. Vast marble and brass temples lay to the east, while government halls rose from the north, and a litany of markets surrounded the western side. It felt more like a town square to Karl, and it was truly a sight to behold. Steam coiled upward in twisting ribbons from vents carved into the sacred columns, while bronze pipes ran over everything like vines, including over statues of goddesses.

  The merchants to their left were selling, unsurprisingly, enchanted coffee pots powered by tiny steam runes. Karl remembered how the Emperor was addicted to coffee, which was probably why he allegedly never slept. The air was thick with shouts, laughter, hot bread, incense, and the constant hiss of steam as the crowds ebbed and flowed throughout the Forum.

  “I’ve never seen so much marble before,” Kara said, her eyes alight with wonder as she looked around.

  “I miss the forest already,” Mýra said, clinging close to Björn, who was speechless as he beheld the architectural masterpiece.

  “Oh, finally,” the Trickster said, humming with pleasure on Karl’s shoulder. Karl’s eyes snapped to where Ratatoskr was looking.

  For a moment, he didn’t believe what he was seeing.

  It was a cat prowling around the marble steps leading to one of the temples—but it was no ordinary feline. It was made entirely of brass, with gears clicking and whirring at the joints of its legs, looking very much like the Trickster.

  “What are you doing?” Karl asked as the Trickster readied himself to jump.

  “We skipped breakfast this morning,” Ratatoskr said. “I am ready to eat.”

  “Ratat…” Karl began, but the Trickster had already jumped off and was chasing after the cat.

  “He’s gonna get himself killed here,” Kara muttered, shaking her head.

  “I know,” Karl said. “We need to find—” But his words were cut off as a giant shadow flew past them in an ear-splitting roar.

  Karl’s instincts took over. He dropped, pulling Kara down with him as she reflexively activated her Baldr light shield around them. Björn and Mýra similarly fell to their knees, with Björn shielding Mýra with his Bifrost shield. But the people around them hardly paid attention to the screech from above.

  “What the hell is going on?” Karl shouted as he and his friends stood to their feet and searched the sky, only to see a mythic monster Karl hoped he would never have to see.

  It was a giant dragon.

  Red like embers, it flapped mighty wings that shook the foundations of the Forum. Karl’s Moonlight Meter almost maxed out at the sight, but the dragon didn’t turn toward the people and begin burning them all alive. It simply passed overhead, flying off to some other part of the Roman industrial metropolis.

  “Are we the only ones that saw that?” Karl asked, looking at his friends with confusion. How was nobody disturbed by the sight of a dragon?

  “That’s just Umbra,” a familiar voice said behind them.

  Karl and his friends turned around, unsurprised by the person who emerged from the shadows.

  10

  INDUSTRIALIS AETAS

  “Sporus?” Karl said as he and his friends turned to see the young Roman. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised to see you here, Karl thought, given Sporus’s origins.

  “That’s me,” Sporus said, giving a curt wave.

  “You’re friends with the dragon?” Kara asked, sheathing her sword now that the danger had subsided.

  The rather gaunt and pale Roman archer nodded. He had not changed much since they last saw him when taking down the Cult of Eternal Night back in Gotland. He looked not much older than Karl, was clean-shaven, his skin pale as the moon, and had dark curly hair, which Karl had seen was typical for a Roman. The archer wasn’t showcasing his bow, but Karl knew that Sporus was keeping his dark, silvery bow somewhere in his inventory. Although Karl did see a gilded dagger at his hip that was wrapped in rich purple leather and embedded with glittering amethysts.

  The Trickster bounded back to Karl’s shoulder. “Is that the Emperor’s pet?” he asked.

  Sporus nodded while looking off into the distance where the red dragon had flown.

  “I’m not entirely sure what his mission was,” Sporus said, looking concerned. But he shook his head. “Why are you guys here?”

  “We’re here for the Games,” Kara said excitedly.

  Sporus frowned.

  “Will you be joining us?” Björn asked, standing close to Mýra as the crowds continued to surge past them on either side, though many of them gave them a wide berth as they looked like foreigners in Rome.

  “Are you guys fools?” Sporus hissed as he shook his head.

  “Yes,” Karl said, while Björn said “No” at the same time.

  “It’s probably best we don’t explain our situation here,” Kara said, looking around. Sporus nodded in agreement.

  “Come,” Sporus said. “There’s somewhere we can go for a more private conversation.”

  Karl and Kara held hands as they followed behind Sporus, who led them through the sprawling crowds. Now that Karl wasn’t searching everywhere to try to find the Colosseum or watching out for danger, he let his guard relax a little bit to take in more of their surroundings.

  He was surprised by how many people were not Romans that he had not seen previously.

  There were a handful of samurai with their typically layered leather plates, who were walking around in a group and staring at all of the Roman statues and industrial enhancements with awe.

  There were Egyptian soldiers who wore bronze armor and wielded glowing khopeshes, the crescent-shaped blades that could hook and slash.

  And as they passed under what looked like an industrially modified marble arch reinforced with bronze plates, they passed a group of Native Americans wearing thick hide armor and sporting glowing tattoos while wielding impressive bows that hummed with magic.

  Karl was so impressed by seeing all these other cultures that he almost ran into Sporus when they stopped a few minutes later on their journey through the city. “This is what I wanted to update you about,” Sporus said as he pointed at what Karl could only guess was the Colosseum.

  It was not like the Colosseum from modern times, with half of the upper ring destroyed. It had been completely restored, looking like how it was supposed to be, with its three tiers of arches and a cap on the top. And like most of this industrial Rome, it was reinforced with bronze so that hardly a sliver of marble remained. It glowed in the morning light as steam coiled between the arches from massive bronze vent grilles set between them. There were great iron braces set across certain arches, though the imperial statues that stood in their niches were still there.

  Strangely, thanks to his werewolf senses, he could hear deep down in the arena a distant echo of gears grinding together, as if some enormous clockwork mechanism was turning beneath the sand. Every few seconds, there came a hard chunk-hiss, the sound of hydraulic lifts resetting.

  Karl knew that historically, there were animals and slaves that waited beneath the floors before the tournaments. It was just crazy to see it brought back to life with an industrial flavor.

  Mýra flinched as they stood beholding the industrial Colosseum. “Is there a forge in there?” she asked out loud. Sporus frowned, shaking his head. “Weird,” she said, rubbing her temple.

  “This Colosseum has been a great focus for the Emperor,” Sporus explained, his voice low, as they continued their walk. “He has kept it very secret, and I haven’t been able to see much of what goes on.”

  He led them away from the crowds, down a quieter service road behind what Sporus explained was the Palatine Hill. “The Emperor’s eyes are everywhere,” Sporus explained, quickly glancing at the golden eagles that floated around the city. “I’ll explain more when we get to a safe place.”

  As they skirted the great Palatine Hill, they came across enormous copper pipes that ran up the rock wall to some of the marble-bronze villas.

  “I’m guessing that’s the Emperor’s home,” Björn asked as they looked at the impressive marble complex that towered above the hill.

  Sporus nodded.

  Karl tightened his jaw at the sight; they were so close to Kara’s killer that it made his skin crawl.

  Sporus continued. “There are ways into the palace, but it’d be foolish to explore those now. He’s increased his security once the foreigners started to arrive for the Games.”

  Karl could barely take his eyes off the palace, which stretched across the Palatine hillside. One of the temples that was part of the mega-complex had iron buttresses bolted into its marble to help hold the weight of new marble and bronze additions that were added to make it even taller than before.

  From their vantage point, they could see what Sporus described as the Praetorian Guards patrolling every inch of the palace walls, which were iron and marble fused and glowing with Latin runes that undoubtedly would harm them in a variety of ways. Their armor was darker than the urban cohorts they had met earlier; theirs was fitted with matte obsidian steel veined with glowing aether lines that pulsed with their heartbeats. They too had retractable visors, but theirs were slitted red, and their cloaks were made of woven metallic fibers that shimmered like oil in the sunlight. Though none of that compared to their spears, which gave off a humming sound as they moved along the walls.