“…Mistress Borgia.â€?

A swift kick across the jaw sent Anso sprawling across the deck of the airship. The craft swayed and creaked through the spring sun as its crew scurried about setting the sails for a southward tack.

“Disgusting creature,â€? Lucrezia spat. “Not even a fight. No fun at all.â€? She put her slipper back on and went to the raised cabin at the stern of the ship. “Show him to his quarters, I don’t want to look at him anymore.â€?

Anso was escorted to a tastefully decorated berth below deck, isolated from the crew. The door shut behind him and was locked from the outside. Most of his belongings were in a footlocker at the foot of his bunk, minus his machina.

“Finally.â€? Anso sighed to himself. “Some peace and quiet.â€? The monk rubbed his jaw and sat down on the chair provided for him, and set out some paper, selected a quill and began writing.

The message was in a code of his own devising which superficially resembled the squiggles of Arabic, and would prove difficult to decipher.