The fastness in which the Watcher resided was an immense dark edifice, its outer curtain wall two hundred feet tall and over thirty feet thick, forming a pentagon that enclosed a second, even higher curtain wall. At each corner of the outer wall a drum tower was home to enormous, massively powerful trebuchets that could easily throw a block of stone weighing thirty tons over a mile out into the sea, which surrounded on all sides the rocky island on which the fastness was built.

The island itself was formidable, rising a hundred feet up from the sea with sheer sided cliffs that were home to thousands of seabirds, whose guano covered the rock in a white, smelly, slimy mass that would make scaling the cliffs an almost impossible task for even the most determined invader, even without the deafening cries, sharp jabbing beaks and regurgitated half-digested fish that would be vomited onto anyone attempting such a climb. Even then, were a determined attacker ever to reach the curtain wall itself, they would find that it was made of material closely resembling polished granite, each block cut perfectly square with perfect precision, the joints almost invisible to the naked eye, and the face of each block perfectly smooth, affording no purchase at all. Attempting to enter via an assault on the main gate was also futile - the fastness did not have one.

Should the outer wall somehow be successfully scaled, then the attacking force would have to cross to the inner wall, which was not connected by any means to the outer by walkways or bridges. Between the two walls, hidden in the perpetual darkness at the bottom of the canyon, were a myriad of razor sharp crystal-grown spikes, waiting to impale anyone attempting to reach the bottom in search of a doorway, which they wouldn't be able to find anyway. Like the outer wall, the inner did not possess an entryway of any kind.

In the centre of the inner ward, a square keep rose up and towered over all, its battlements at the top of the structure another two hundred feet higher than the innermost curtain wall.

At the top of the keep, looking out of place among the huge scale and projection of brute strength that the fastness possessed, was a delicate, domed structure made of brick, wood and metal. It was an observatory, and within, the Watcher performed his duty to his masters, and watched and reported on those people he was told to gaze upon.

Within the dome of the observatory was a device that looked very much like a large catadioptric telescope, thirty foot long and five wide, mounted on a clockwork mechanism that controlled its motion. Its brass shone with a golden glow and the ticking of the clockwork regulator gave the otherwise silent room gave a warm, comforting feel.

The door of the observatory roof was open, filling the space inside with light from a sky that, like the fastness itself, defied reality.

At that particular moment, the Watcher was not using his telescope. There was currently no-one he needed to observe, so he was outside on the keep's battlements, surveying the seas around the fastness, as was his want when he had some free time. The enemy's war fleet that patrolled endlessly back and forth downwind of the fastness had grown larger recently, he thought. There were more triple decked first-raters too. And was that a hint of smoke, over there near the horizon? Could this mean the forces fixing their gaze upon him had achieved another developmental level? Perhaps the fleet of wooden frigates and line-of-battle square-rigged ships, standing off and on in rigid line-ahead formations, would soon be replaced by steam powered ironclads, dreadnoughts and battleships that could manoeuvre irrespective of wind and tide.

And another worry - the pace of development shown by the enemy appeared to be increasing and may very soon reach that of achieving heavier than air flight. An attack from the air would be much harder to repel than an assault by sea. He ought to begin preparing a defence against such measures. Perhaps some anti-aircraft guns and searchlights scattered about would do the trick. He might even skip that technological stage altogether and jump straight for surface to air missiles, but that could be counterproductive. He still didn't know whether his accessing the systems that would produce such items would allow his enemies to do the same.

Perhaps it would be better to wait until circumstances forced his hand. Anyway, he wasn't a martial man - warfare held no interest for him. That was one of the reasons he had been given this assignment in the first place. At present, he could continue with his duties unmolested and without any fear of being distracted. No doubt the time would come when he would have to switch from a passive-defensive mode to an active one, but the longer he waited the better.

A chime from the clock in the observatory reminded him that he was required at the telescope in a few minutes. He turned away from the battle-fleets and looked up at the sky. Above him (or more properly, below, if the correct frame of reference was used to describe in which direction he was looking) the deep blue of the Mediterranean was giving way to the browns and reds of the Sahara desert. There should be just enough time to achieve this observation, he thought, before the fastness crossed into the Earth's shadow.

It was as the telescope was moving into position, the clockwork drive mechanism whirring and ticking as it moved the ponderous mass of the scope slowly to face in the right direction, that the bell rang. The watcher stood up from the controls and turned to look at the bell which was mounted on the wall next to the observatory door. The bell was one of a number mounted on the wall of the kind found in Victorian-era houses, used for summoning servants to various locations within the house and physically connected to the various rooms by rope and pulley systems. The bells in the observatory served a similar purpose, except here they connected to various parts of the fastness, including those secret and secure entrances that authorised persons could use to gain entry, and which alerted the Watcher to anyone wishing to gain access.

The Watcher went over to the panel and looked at the plate under the bell that had been rung, and which still wobbled on its bracket. It was the bell for the oubliette. Well, that was interesting. In the many hundreds of years the Watcher had been keeping vigil at the fastness, this was the first time that particular bell had been rung. Could this be an attempt by the enemy to gain entry? If so, they were getting desperate. The oubliette represented a one-chance-only, non-interactive entry point only large enough to hold one personality. The Watcher would be able to see in perfect safety who was in there, and if he didn't like what he saw, he could flood it with seawater, erasing the upload completely. It was a desperate means of gaining entry, and only really meant for the direst of emergencies, if all other means of communication had been lost or compromised. Certainly the battle was moving towards the point when the enemy could inflict actual harm, but there was still a long way to go before things deteriorated so much that the oubliette became necessary to converse with his superiors.

He left the observatory and crossed the rooftop to a covered hatch that led down into the keep. The room below was the Watcher's quarters, sparsely furnished with a few worn comfortable looking chairs, low tables and rugs on the stone floor. Large fireplaces that faced each other on two sides of the room were flanked by bookcases that held hundreds of volumes of dusty, ancient books. On the other walls hung large tapestries depicting battle scenes from the Earth's middle ages. At each corner of the room were arched, wooden doors that led into the keep's corner towers.

The Watcher crossed to one of those doorways and entered a tower, took a lantern from a hanger by the door and made his way down the spiral staircase within. The staircase ran the full height of the tower - and some way down below ground level too. Windows every so often let in a little natural light, and occasional doors led off to other rooms and passageways. Many of these the Watcher hadn't been in for some years, and others, not at all. He hadn't felt the need to spread himself throughout the many rooms within the keep, and as he never entertained visitors, or had any family, servants or soldiers to fill the halls and corridors with sound and activity, he avoided wandering around. Generally, he kept himself to the topmost room, or to the observatory when need required, with the occasional excursion to other parts of the fastness to undertake necessary checks on security and defensive readiness. Besides, he had designed and built (or at least, had caused to be built) this fastness, and knew all of its secrets without having to search them out. But since beginning his stay, he had never once had reason to go to the place he was now going - until the ringing of a certain bell made it necessary for him to go.

As he descended the air grew chill and the darkness increased, until eventually his lantern provided the only light - a sparse illumination that was swallowed up quickly by the gloom. Once below ground level he slowed his pace, taking each step carefully, as if fearful that something unpleasant might at any time appear in the feeble lantern-light and attack him - which in fact, wasn't too far from the truth. The fastness had many traps and surprises for the unwary or unwelcome, and he had to be careful that he didn't accidently trigger a half-forgotten defence mechanism. After all, it had been a very long time since he had come down this far.

Eventually the staircase came to an end, and a narrow passage led off into darkness. Beyond the passageway was the fastness dungeons, and beyond them, lay the oubliette. The Watcher stood still, listening. He could hear nothing beyond the faint moan of wind in the tower above and the drip of water from the darkness ahead. That was a little reassuring, but all the same it did nothing to ease the apprehension that he felt. The Watcher placed the lantern on the floor and reached into his jacket pocket, taking out a ball of twine. He tied the free end firmly to a hook at the entrance to the passage, picked up the lantern, and stepped forward, paying the string out behind him.

The way to the oubliette was winding. Occasionally the passage split, and there were many entrances leading off of the sides, some going up, others down. The Watcher was sure of his directions, but all the same time he made sure the twine was not snagged or likely to get cut on a sharp edge as he threaded his way through the damp, slimy tunnels and passages under the fastness.

A last the passage ended in a wooden door, its shape made crooked with age and damp and stained with rust from its hinges. The Watcher took out a key, and tumbled the lock. The door opened inwards with a screech from its hinges. Beyond the door was an open space - more felt than seen. The air was cooler than in the passageway, and it flooded out through the door, bringing with it a smell of staleness, rust and dust. The Watcher tied the twine to another hook at the doorway, and stepped into the darkness. The roof and walls of the chamber couldn't be seen with the weak light spilling from the lantern, but even without it the watcher would have been able to see the oubliette. In the centre of the cavern floor there was a faint patch of blue, emanating from a circular hole a couple of feet wide. The Watcher stepped cautiously closer. Nothing should be able to get out of the oubliette without his permission, but even so... the fact that nothing should be in there either made him cautious.

The hole in the floor was actually a transparent window that looked down into the oubliette itself. The faint blue glow came from fungus that lined the oubliette's walls illuminating it faintly - convenient for seeing what lay within. At the edge of the window, sticking up from the bare stone floor, were two levers. One operated the mechanism to open the window, and so allow whoever was inside the oubliette to get out, the other opened a valve that allowed water to enter the oubliette, drowning whoever lay within. The Watcher went to the second lever and held it, before cautiously peering down into the oubliette. He could just make out a figure, sitting hunched on the floor, legs drawn up to their chest and head resting on their knees, long grey hair hiding his features. His hand twitched on the lever and a small dribble of water entered the oubliette. The man inside jerked his head up to the window, then stood, smiling.

The Watcher leant closer, surprised, amazed. This was not possible ... something that just should not be able to happen! How on old Earth did he get in here?

"Sanctuary?" asked his long-ago friend, Sable Holm.

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Tris.