The Saucy Wench's Sister, the steam-assisted galleon of Factor Destrian Baal, was moored in the harbor of Port Silver. The port was a Hyzephrian trade hub in Argyre and the last major holding of the late Great House Oberon.

Destrian Baal himself, with a small guard of six of his men, walked further outside of town beside Tybalt Oberon, who was similarly accompanied. Destrian wore a long heavy coat draped across his shoulder, festooned with House Baal ornamentation, and a tricorn hat. His irregular stubble implied he wasn't shaving carefully. He looked a little too clean to be a sailor but a little too dirty to be an aristocrat, despite being both.

A great cousin of the new Matriarch Morgana Baal, Destrian was just distantly related enough to keep his vases free of flower arrangements in the aftermath of his great aunt's death.

In defiance of his house's turn of fortune Tybalt was still dressed in the manner of a Thulian merchant prince, with a white double-breasted jacket with cloth-of-gold trim and a matching peaked cap. He had managed to keep it mostly clean in spite of his surroundings.

"I'm glad you could put aside our family rivalry to pursue something to our mutual benefit," said Tybalt

"To be honest, we don't consider you rivals anymore," replied Destrian "Are you aware you're a pirate now?"

Tybalt ignored the comment for the sake of the venture.

The group came to a large rock formation on the edge of the water. Two massive black metal doors were set in to its side. There was evidence that the doors had recently been the subject of canon fire, although they seemed none worse for the wear.

On the left door was a large bas-relief of the House Baal insignia, a bat clutching a scroll, and on the right door the insignia of House Oberon, a butterfly with floral pattern wings.

"It's sealed with a double blood lock," explained Tybalt "As you can see we've already attempted to open the door by other means."

"How old must this thing be if it predates the animosity between our two families?" wondered Destrian aloud.

"Who says it does?" said Tybalt "Are you ready?"

"I'm positively tumescent with anticipation," Destrian deadpanned "Let's get on with this."

"Do you have a knife?" asked Tybalt.

Destrian produced a very expensive bejeweled knife and twisted the tip into his pointer finger, poking a small hole. Tybalt made a similar prick on his finger with his own knife. Each wiped their finger on the small receptacle on their respective sides of the door.

There was a low groaning, grinding noise that grew more and more shrill. Sand and earth rained to the ground as the two great doors scraped open for the first time in centuries, spilling forth the stale air from within.

The group stepped inside and shined the light of their lamps in the darkness.

A long and surprisingly low hallway led deep into the rock, before opening in a single small chamber. In the center of the chamber was an unusual chair, like something from the laboratory of a surgeon or a necromancer. Secured to the chair by many metal restrained all along the arms, legs, torso and head was a blackened skeleton covered in a thin layer of what must have been mummified skin.

"Well," joked Tybalt "Which half do you want?"

There was a noise that wasn't a noise, as some soundless voice spoke to the minds of those present.

"Blood," it demanded.

A look of unease spread across the assembled men.

"You all heard that, yes?" asked Tybalt.

"I'm not sure that 'heard' was the correct word," said Destrian, approaching the chair.

"Surely you're not-" began Tybalt.

"I didn't come all this way to leave empty handed," said Destrian "Where's your entrepreneurial spirit?"

Destrian allowed a few drops of blood to fall onto the skeletal figure. They were quickly absorbed like water on a dry cloth.

The bloated outlines of intestines, stomach and other organs appeared like lumps before the figure's skin puffed up around them. The mummified skin began to swell as the skeleton regrew musculature, circulatory system and internal organs inside of itself with a sickening wet noise.

The skin hardened and darkened, forming what looked like a sleek insect's carapace. All except the head, which had the delicate features of human woman framed by long black hair.

The creature, whatever it was, gave the appearance of a woman wearing an insectoid suit. She regarded Tybalt and Destrian with curiosity, still strapped down tightly to the chair.

"I knew you couldn't stay away forever," she said, in lyrical unaccented Lemurian "Your families love me and I love you."

Tybalt stumbled backwards in shock. All around him armsmen tightened their fingers on the triggers of their weapons.

"Who or what are you?" asked Destrian.

"I'm the source of your family's wealth," she said "I am the seer of secrets, knower of hidden things, the finder of lost socks."

"That does sound useful," mused Destrian.

"I can be more useful than you can imagine," said the woman "I can answer any question, uncover any secret. I can tell you anything you want to know, and I ask so little in return."

"And what is that?" asked Destrian.

"Blood of course, the quintessence of life. I'm half starved."

"You're not falling for this demon's lies are you?" asked Tybalt "We should seal this chamber off and leave it how we found it. We should-"

Destrian, in one fluid movement, drew his sword and plunged it into Tybalt's back and through his heart. Tybalt burbled blood. Destrian turned, drawing his pistol, and aimed it at the captain of Tybalt's bodyguard.

The Baal armsmen understood immediately, and pointed their weapons at their Oberon counterparts. The Oberon men had just been drafted into the Baal Penal Legion for the crime of bearing arms against House Baal.

"No games, demon," says Baal "What can you offer me for the blood of your captor's descendant."

"I answer questions," she repeated "And I am no demon."

"He's bleeding all over the floor," said Baal "Such waste..."

The woman-thing seemed genuinely upset at the wasted blood.

"Your ancestors used to ask me many questions about the ancient treasure troves of the elves. There are still some of these that remain untouched and secret. Piles of elf-cut sapphires, red diamonds and opals as tall as men. Books of forgotten sciences and scrolls of ancient power. Works of art beyond mortal ken. All of this I can give you in exchange for blood."

"You're getting close," said Destrian, as the blood continued to pool "I want specifics."

"Ost Thurin, a pre-human city, lies in ruin underground. Its wealth and secrets are unplundered. Give me his blood now and I will show you the way to it."

"Do you know where the keys are to your restraints?" asked Destrian "I would shake on this."

"The blood!" hissed the woman.

"Very well," said Destrian, taking the woman's restrained hand in his. They shook hands as best they could, sealing their bargain in the eyes of the arcane.

Satisfied that the demon, for what else could she be, was properly bound to their contract Destrian hefted up the corpse of Tybalt Oberon and positioned it so that the wound would drain onto the woman. She writhed with obscene pleasure as the bodily fluids were absorbed.

* * *

The Saucy Wench's Sister set sail from Port Silver that night. The woman-thing, who eventually conceded to reveal that her name was Nefertiti, had been brought aboard in heavy chains. She acted as navigator, and seemed to use the stars to guide them to an island among the hundreds of thousands that dot the sea between Cathay and Mu.

The uncharted island was large and overrun with wild jungle. The Wench's Sister set anchor not far from it and Destrian rowed to shore with Nefertiti and some of his best men.

Destrian brought six armsmen with rifles whose sole job was to guard Nefertiti. Chained or not he wasn't taking any chances with the demon. Another ten of his sailors came as well, armed with pistols and swords but mostly to carry heavy things. Finally, Destrian brought with him all four of the elite member of his inner circle:

Obalda, an iron-muscled barbarian woman from northernmost Hyzephria. She had wild red hair and fiery look in her eyes. She dressed in furs and carried an unwieldy looking battle axe.

Pawura Qar, a Hyskosi gentleman sharpshooter. He was dressed in the fancy silk tunic of a rich Thulian courtier and carried two highly customized long-barreled flintlock pistols. On his head was a very dapper hat.

Cosmo "Pretty Scars" Thistle, a Lemurian from jolly old Thule. He was an ex-member of a guild whose name he preferred not to mention. He was an expert in knifeplay of all varieties, both throwing and stabbing, and dressed all in black.

And finally Destrian's younger brother Tad, who was a member of his inner circle as a favor to their mother. He probably had a pistol. It didn't matter. Destrian had a long-term plan to get the young man killed.

The group arrived on the island and pulled their small boats ashore. Nefertiti led them through the jungle. It didn't take long for crumbling signs of a lost civilization to become evident. Before long they came to their destination: one of the many entrances to the city below.

The great stone structure was weathered and ugly but intact. It resembled an ancient crypt. The structure opened to reveal a long twisting stairway leading far into the darkness.

"This is it?" asked Destrian.

"Don't mistake the cover for the book, my love," said Nefertiti "What you seek is below."

"In that case," he replied "Ladies first."

Nefertiti and her "honor guard" led the way down the deep stairs. For more than an hour they descended the seemingly endless steps, to the point where the trip began to resemble a dream. The men were grumbling about turning back by the time they reached the bottom.

The stairs led down into a great cavern. Dozens of passageways cut into the living stone led off in various directions. It brought to mind a maze.

"Well then," said Destrian "Which way to Ost Thurin?"

"This is Ost Thruin," said Nefertiti "The city is a maze to those who don't know her secrets."

"You're very tiresome," said Destrian "Cease wasting my time and take me to the treasure troves you spoke of."

"Yes, master," said Nefertiti smiling, ever the obedient slave.

"Captain," said Pawura "Does this place look elven to you?"

"I suppose you're an expert on elves now, then?" asked Destrian "If you're unmanned go back to the ship and forfeit your shares in this venture."

Pawura kept the rest of his misgivings to himself.

Nefertiti led the group down one of the tunnels. Buildings with alien architecture were set into the walls at regular intervals all along the tunnel, giving truth to Nefertiti's claims that this place was once a city.

The group came to a place where the buildings were replaced by a series of glassy-stone jags sticking out of the walls.

"Watch out for the spikes," said Nefertiti.

Destrian rolled his eyes.

They had reached the halfway point down the hall of spikes when the first of the sailors threw himself into them. He was pierced in three places by the stone jags and began to bleed out like a butchered pig. Destrian swore in surprise, and as he did so two more of the sailors messily impaled themselves on the spikes.

"I did warn you," said Nefertiti.

"Run," yelled Destrian "To the end of the tunnel!"

Confused and terrified the rest of the group was happy to follow orders. With Destrian in front they dashed through the tunnel. One of Nefertiti's guards threw himself into the jags with such force that his blood spattered four men.

Once they had put some distance between themselves and the spikes, the group virtually collapsed and gasped to catch their breath.

"There are traps," said Nefertiti, matter-of-factly. She was the only person standing, to a given value of person.

"Why didn't you warn us before?" asked Destrian.

"You never asked," said Nefertiti, innocently.

Destrian snorted, but realized there was little he could do.

"Do so in the future," was all he said.

Not far from where they rested was a six-way intersection, and Nefertiti showed the way into a tunnel that sloped upwards. Ascending it was like climbing a steep hill and, after having run for their lives down the spike tunnel, the group huffed and puffed their way up.

Destrian, having learned his lesson, stayed up front near Nefertiti where he reckoned it was safe.

They came to the place where the tunnel's slope evened off and Nefertiti absent mindedly said "watch out for the butterflies."

Nefertiti, her guards, and Destrian had already made it to the even ground when something fell from the ceiling behind them. It was a glass ball, and when it hit the ground it shattered into thousands of glass butterflies. They flitted about the sloping tunnel at high speeds, cutting deep ribbons into the sailors bringing up the rear. They cut into their victims with a pattern that turned their screams into something of a melody.

Pawura and Tad were caught in the cloud of glass butterflies, and stripped down to their bones.

The group took off down the tunnel at the sight of this, but the butterflies didn't leaving the sloping part. Eventually whatever force propelled them dissipated, and they tinkled to the ground.

"How many other traps are there between here and the treasure trove?" demanded Destrian.

"That depends on your definition of trap," said Nefertiti.

"I've had about enough of you," said Destrian.

"Not just yet, I don't think," Nefertiti teased.

She led them through one of the buildings set into the walls. It might have been a temple of some kind. The interior, too, was hewn from the living rock. It had a dais and what appeared to be a sitting area. This they walked through and into the back.

"Close your eyes," said Nefertiti, just as she passed two large metal gongs polished to a mirror shine. They were the only objects in the building not covered in dust and dirt.

Those not fast enough to heed her warning saw their reflections in the mirrors, and their eyes crusted over into jewels. The taint spread from their eyes and in moments their whole bodies were solid gold. Six men died this way, including a number of Nefertiti's guards. If Destrian had seen what happened to them he would have reversed his usual policy and found a way to retrieve them.

They continued out the back of the building and into a massive artificial cavern almost as tall as the spires of Thule. A large tower grew out of the center as though the whole cavern came to a point. It was decorated with strange ornaments from an alien symbolism and cut to inhuman geometries.

"Here is the palace," said Nefertiti "Inside are the treasures you seek."

"And traps?" asked Destrian.

"There are no traps inside the palace," said Nefertiti.

She led the way to the palace, her honor guard reduced to a pair. When she reached the entrance to the tower, with an eerie casualness, Nefertiti opened her arms wide and his restraints fell to the ground as though they had been unlocked. Her guards, frazzled from the day's events, thought better of provoking her.

"No," yelled Destrian, rushing towards her.

Nefertiti walked in the entrance with Destrian not far behind her. The rest of the group tried to follow but a thick stone door slammed shut as though moved by some great unseen hand. Destrian couldn't see outside to know what was happening, but even through the door he could hear the faint sounds of desperate, hysterical laughter. Then quiet.

Destrian drew his sword.

"Don't you want your treasure?" asked Nefertiti.

"I'll have your head for this demon," said Destrian.

"For what?" she asked, innocently "I kept my end of the bargain. Wouldn't the joke be on you if you killed me now and died here without ever finding the treasure."

"There is a treasure," asked Destrian, suspicious.

"Of course my love," said Nefertiti "I would never lie to you."

"You said this was an elf city," said Destrian.

"I never did," she said, indignant "Never directly. I simply neglected to disabuse you of the notion. Follow me."

Again Nefertiti led Destrian, this time into a great throne room carved from the same strange architectural style as the exterior of the tower. There was a noticeable lack of man-sized piles of gems.

"Where is the treasure?" asked Destrian.

"Oh there are vaults of gold and precious stones," said Nefertiti "I can show you to such trifles, but I offered you treasure and here it is."

She pulled a long crystal shard out of an alcove in the throne. It was identical to the one inside Nefertiti's neck. There were four such alcoves, although only three of them had contained crystals.

"Have you ever wanted to live forever, Destrian Baal?" asked Nefertiti.

Destrian thought back to the blood sealed vault. How long must she have been locked in there, only to be revived with a single drop of blood. If this offer was genuine it was worth the lives of a hundred thousand men. A million.

"I do believe I have," said Destrian.

Nefertiti approached him with an intimate closeness. She pressed the sharp end ever-so-lightly against Destrian's throat.

"Doesn't everyone," she said, before pushing it home with inhuman strength.

The alien soul contained in the crystal consumed Destrian Baal's own soul, and gained the strength to shrug off its long sleep.

"Welcome home my love," said Nefertiti "Our time has come. The elves are dead and we are risen. The world is ours for the taking."