Spence walks along the street, quietly chatting with Smith. They have a patrolling astral ee, as well an astral being of the "firey" persuasion. The wards are heavy as well. This one will be a tough nut to crack. And so close to the palace, police presence may be an issue as well. We should report our findings to the others and see if we cannot come to some group consensus on how to approach this problem.

Jacob nods his head in agreement. I'll drink to that.

The Bull and Bear, 12:00PM June 18th 1870AD

The stage was set and the atmosphere was ripe, after two intensely detailed days the team was reuniting again.

The public house is its same dingy, grimy self. In fact you could swear that some of the patrons had not even moved in the intervening time.

Each man enters with equal parts caution and bravado. The plan would be laid tonight, the final calls made and tehy would find those wretched keys.

Bismarck enters the backroom and stands at the table, looking around the room at the other men.

I wish they could see me smiling... I'm sure these humans haven't made nearly as much progress as I have.

He reaches into his greatcoat and places the key on the table, then withdraws his arm slowly with a whirring sound.

I took the liberty of acquiring one of the keys, gentlemen. Hope you don't mind...

The Hand stands quietly in a corner, all almond-shaped eyes, angular features in a perpetual scowl, raven-black hair, and silk. His arms are crossed, his expression as dour as ever. At the showing of a key -- ahead of schedule, and against the plan? -- he simply raises one sharp eyebrow.

Jacob sits in a comfortable chair and lights his pipe. When he sees the key on the table he stops smoking for a moment.

Damn the luck! This one will ruin us all.

For now, he remains silent.

Bickle's Steamcab "Huff 'n Puff" - 12:00 Noon, June 16th, 1870 AD

An infestation of fungal creatures in our fine new subterranean sewage system caused by some effects related to this 'mana' substance? It seems unlikely that anything of this calibre could be produced using the trickery of magicks, but on the other hand you can never be too sure with those 'arcanists' and their doings...

Anyhow, using custom-constructed automated probes, it should be easy to rid the tubes of any residue, be they from the nether- or more profane realms...

Let's see, in this special environment using a stream of pressurized water or steam, provided by overground compressing devices, could be employed as a robust and efficient means of direct propulsion that can be partially diverted to power ...hm, maybe a head of rotating blades...yes, that should indeed work fine...except for the more cavernous areas...alas, I do need the blueprints to be able to judge the situation in any appropriate manner and adapt my...

The passionate engineer's stream of thoughts is interrupted by the steamwagon's sudden deceleration as it approaches their first destination after a ride that was as rough as it was quick.
For some reason Alexander Dorn suddenly finds himself unable not to speculate on a bunch of bureaucrats sitting somewhere, zealously crafting a lenghty and complicated verdict on the limitation of traffic speed, artificially constraining, no, suffocating the progress he is working so hard for.
But his mind has to attend other matters now.

"Hm? Baker already? Excellent. Now if you would just proceed at, say, horsecart speed while I set up my Prognosticator and try to procure some expedient data, yes? I will have further instructions by the end of the street, at the latest.

With that, Alexander Dorn releases the tight grip on his top hat and one of the carts' handles (that he wisely decided to add after the first tour he took on Bickle's cab, back then, after performing his first round of 'maintenance' on it - somehow "ole Huff n' Puff" felt like an understatement afterwards... to everyone except Travis at least...) to reach into his leather briefcase and extract his most sophisticated invention.
Placing the complex electromechanic device discreetly on top of his lap, he proceeds with connecting his monocle to one of the many unique interface ports and starts to operate the cryptic keys with nimble strokes of his left hand, his gaze on Baker Street, a content smile spreading on his face.

Well that ... wasn't quite in keeping with our original assesment and intentions of the situation but I ... suppose it could be a good thing.

We have a scenario or two in mind for one of the keys. The one held by the aristocrats could be roblematic however, as they are located in distrubing proximity to the Palace, and a number of constables roam the area. Their astral securtiy is also excellent. If anyone, say, a fellow conspirator recently robbed, might tip them off to a potential issue, we could have a very serious problem on our hands. I may be able to deal with the predicament of the astral guardians, but if I have to destroy them, as seems likely, their conjurer would know immediately. I suggest either a very discrete entry, or a matter of 'conning' our way in.

Suggestions anyone?

I have given this some thought. Should the servant list rotate a bit - and most houses of that size do we can implant ourselves inside. I am a bit concerned that we may have shown our hand already. He stares at Bismarck when he says this.

Bismarck returns the stare Jacob levels at him through his pipe-smoke.

They won't know a thing... I left the office in such a state it will take days to figure out that key is missing. he says, laughing softly.

They're just incensed that I'm more capable than they are...

The Hand again seems content to let the others do most of the talking -- either because he hasn't got many ideas, perhaps because he's more used to receiving orders than giving them, or perhaps simply because he doesn't care -- but eventually his soft voice comes from the shadowy corner he's standing in.

"I can handle a few constables, as can Bismarck, I'm sure." His head bobs a bit towards the steam-powered thug. Coincidentally, the two of us may also be difficult to pass off as the sort of servants likely to be rotated into the staff of such a house. Perhaps you two might try that approach, with the two of us waiting outside, prepared to stop any of the constabulary who may come rushing in should subterfuge fail?

His tone is as even as ever, his pronunciations meticulous and slower than a native English speaker's.

Still looking at Bismarck,
This one uses brawn over brain apparently.

Turning toward the Hand,
Not a bad idea I suppose. However ...

I, for one, would like to avoid violence that close to the Crown. Else we may all be in a short noose.

As distasteful as brute force is, it may be our best approach in this case I am afraid. Their security measures seem to lean towards dissuasion. We may be able to get in through brute efforts, on thecondition that we can get out quickly as well. However, that still leaves us with the complication of not knowing the location of our intended theivery. Were we to charge in true cavalier fashion, we may be stymied by a thorough search, giving far more time for the constables to arrive. As our good man The Hand has suggested, I too believe an attempt should be made with the back up proviso of brute force applied liberally. I have a few spells that may help. I do believe however that this should be our last stop due to the high likelihood that this may become a high profile affair rather quickly.

"Indeed. What news of the other key, then?"

The one at the residence on Baker street should be fairly simple to acquire. We may have been able it ... "pinch it" earlier today, but stayed true to the original plan. It has very low security around it, only a family. They are simple people that we may be able to deal with, or if needs be, bypas with little to no violence. Jacob and I have a few scenarios to deal with the situation.

And these scenarios would be... ?

"A triviality, then. I find such annoyances best handled swiftly and surely, so that attention can then be focused with greater precision upon the larger problem." The Easterner keeps his arms crossed, his features somewhere between a scowl and an expression of boredom. "Best to fetch this 'key of least resistance' near our planned time of going after the more difficult catch, however, to minimize the chance of various interested parties alerting one another. With one key already taken, security may be heightened at others."

Throughout the short speech, his pronunciation remains slow and meticulous, as carefully perfect as he attempts to keep his grammar.

I would agree with Mr .. err.. "Hand." Jacob and I had intended to make a deal with the family that holds the 'lesser resistance' key. If they make an issue of the exchange, modifications can be made to their recollections with little difficulty. It is a simple matter. I contend that our larger problem is the more secure estate. Any detailed suggestions on how to deal with this impasse?

Bickle's Steamcab "Huff 'n Puff" - 12:00 Noon, June 16th, 1870 AD

After a few moments of humming and clicking the carefully machined device displays a complete three directional picture of the surrounding area. At the center is of course the steam cab. Progressing outwards the complexities of urban London are revealed. Numerous spillways and tunnels underground. Inconceivable things float through the muck. The impressive array of underground cables and wire that maintain the modern way of life are revealed. Alexander is nearly overwhelmed with the amazing details his device is pumping out. In fact just at the edge of his detection range he spots a strange slow moving shape. A fungus creature, perhaps?

Turning his attention towards the nessecary address he finds a few things which might indeed produce results.

Bickle's Steamcab "Huff 'n Puff" - 12:00 Noon, June 16th, 1870 AD

As the torrent of information from his recently upgraded 'N-Troptical Prognosticator' floods his sight, Alexander Dorns' content smile transforms into a wide grin.

Yesss! Ausgezeichnet! This kind of resolution, this ...this ...pure flow of data, it's all according to ...no, it's even surpassing my expectations.
...beautiful...

Struck by sudden realization his thoughts take a sharp turn.
Hah! Calling it impossible to observe and measure through opaque solid matter!
Fools, ignorant fools, them all! Blind to the potential of pure science, oblivious to the capacity of unrestricted invention!
You always knew it could be done, Hieronymus.
Yes ...yes indeed, I knew it, knew it all along. And these results prove me right. Even they will not ...can not deny it, it's facts after all, objectively measured, quantifiable and reproducable data.
Impeccable.

An air of triumph about him, Alexander simply absorbs the complicated layout of his surroundings, effortlessly memorizing it in full detail as he passes by on the steamcab.
Turning to his friend and driver Travis Bickle, the dwarf beams:
"Alright, Mr. Bickle, on to the next.", gripping the handles tightly.

Bickle's Steamcab "Huff 'n Puff" - 12:20 June 16th 1870AD

"Right you are guv!" Bickle engages the drivetrain once more and the mighty machine chugs on to the next destination.

The ebulient Cockney seems fixated on these "Mushroom men". Nothing seems to be able to sway his mind from its current track. "Yessir they's trying ta kill us all. Knew a fellow down in the Haymarket name o' Mar----- Marius? Marridon? Dunno, one o' them furrign names. Think 'e was an Eytalian fella, was always sayin "Mama Mia" er sum such. Said them fings was trying ta flee a horrible lizard fing, an 'is army o' turtle critters. Said the princess, of em herself tole 'im 'e wuz the only hope. I ask yah ain't foreign people jest the strangest lot ya ever met? Here we be guv."

Despite heavy lunchtime traffic and a heavy foot on the accelerometer the steam cab had indeed arrived at its next destination.

Once more Alexander turns his attention to the complex mass of tubes and wires that comprise his machine. He is awed by the continuing function of the machine. They said he was a fool. They said it would never work. But he would show them, yes he would show them all! He suppresed a maniac chuckle and got back to his work.

Indeed the machine's arcane and obscure workings were complex enough that despite Bickle's unyeilding Cockney curiousity the slow witted human could not understand a single symbol.

But Alexander Dorn was another matter. He grasped the meaning and nuance behind each complex formula. And what they revealed was amazing. The same amazing array of pipelines and power cables. It was obvious that the Johansenns were deeply devoted to the modern life. The only concern Lex had was that the entire house was blank on his machine.

Bickle's Steamcab "Huff 'n Puff" - 12:20, June 16th, 1870 AD

Again? What's with this irritating anomaly? And this time it's affecting an even larger area...
All the data I can receive from this building seems to be ...corrupted. It's as if ...hrm, let's see ...maybe if I adjust the pendulating resonance compensators to...

His bushy eyebrows furrowing, Alexander Dorn begins to work his device, entering string after string of cryptic symbols on the keyboard and twisting some small knobs on its underside.

A short while later the look of deep concentration on his face has to yield for one of obvious discontent (with hints of annoyance) and muted mumbling escapes his mouth:

"It's as if they built their walls out of some ...some material of abnormal qualities ...or maybe it's some eccentric wallpaper or ...ach, whatever. I can just take a sample from inside and then examine it back home with due care and means..."

Louder again, the dwarf addresses his trusty driver:
"Well, Mr. Bickle, my work here is done. We still got two more places to visit, so let's not waste precious time."

"Oh, and ...did you say the princess was italian?"

Bickle's Steamcab "Huff 'n Puff" - 12:40, June 16th, 1870 AD

Bickle frowns at the dwarf as if to say "what, don't you pay any attention to my long winded rambling stories?"

"Nah guv, the plumber sap waz Eyetalian. He din't rightly say what the princess waz. Just went on an on about how she needed help and she waz in another castle and all that. Don't rightly fit iffin you ask me. How kin people eattin monster fings have royals?"

The ever irrepressable Cockney leans closer to Dorn "It's all a plot. They're gonna kill us all."

With that the steamcarriage stops. "Hope ya don't mind guv but its gettin towards lunchtime so I figured that office building would be a better stop then heading down ta the docks. Scuse me. The cabbie hops down from his seat and off towards a fish bar with a glaring gas fueled sign saying McHughs Fish And Chips!

Dorn turns to his device once again seeing the complex mass of symbiols and formulas. He massages his temples and bends to his work once more.

Spence looks across the table at the small gathering, no answer forth coming.

Would that be a "no" then?

Bickle's Steamcab "Huff 'n Puff" - 12:40, June 16th, 1870 AD

"Ah...yes...of course" the dwarf articulates, his mind already on the new readings coming in.
A short while later Alexander Dorns device is finished with squeezing its surroundings for structural information and the impatient engineer finds his driver to be still in queue for his greasy lunch.

Might as well take a closer look myself then...
Standing up, he suddenly groans and grits his teeth, pauses, then cautiously proceeds to straighten his legs.
...aargottverdammt... now, muscles, would you do me the honor of realizing that the ...ride is over and return to my control?

Having successfully negotiated most pending issues with his body, the dwarf climbs off the steamcab, dusts off his clothes, returns his top hat to its intended position, takes a deep breath and begins walking towards the office building, determined, yet still a little shaky.

Near Bickle's Steamcab "Huff 'n Puff" - 12:50, June 16th, 1870 AD

Lex finishes his brief on foot inspection of the impressive example of Victorian achitecture. When he turns around to head back to the steam carriage, it is gone. Mentally Lex curses his shiftless, irresponsible, incompetent ... Oy, guv! over here! Bickle waves from the drivers seat of his cab which he has moved to accommadate Lex's small legs.

Dashing across the rather busy street and after being somewhat ignominously pulled into the steam cab, Lex finds his seat. Sorry, guv. Got me lunch and had ta swing round the block after ya jumped out. Ya find what ya want?

Not waiting for a response the Cockney pulls away from the curb, without even signalling intent. He manhandles the tiller in his now greasy hands, Want a few guv? He offers a impossibly greasy brown paper bag filled with objects which might, only after careful inspection, resemble food.

He balances the mess between himself and Lex so that he can gesture in his normal fashion while still eating. Yer never gonna belive this one guv, some crackerpot in line says there's somfing *snicker*, get this haunting Hyde Park. They figure its the ghost of some sod who was kilt when they put in the Crystal Palace. They says he kin move the mowers and the gardening tools. Ain't that a laff? I tell's some folk 'll beleve anyfing iffin enough folk say it. Whups missed ma turn, half a tick. Then this ghost is supposed ta be eating the folk who stay overnight in the park. I tell ya it's a great big laff. And here we be guv.

The carriage had indeed arrived. In the middle of what could only be described as a war zone. Bickle slows his overexcited chatter to stare in amazement at the warehouse which Lex indicated.

The top story is gone as though burnt by fire. The street passing the structure is filled with emergency vehicles of every size, shape and description. The firemen are carefully and tiredly collecting their hoses and other gear. As they pass the ambulance wagon, Lex clearly hears a smoke rasped voice cry out, I tell you a giant metal man! He was huge! He belched smoke and fire! He was ten feet tall! I am not lieing! Why would I lie? What possible..... as they pass beyond the vehicle the man's voice becomes unclear but his volume remains the same.

Bickle's Steamcab "Huff 'n Puff" - 12:50, June 16th, 1870 AD

"A strange tale indeed. So when this ..'ghost' moves the gardening tools and mowers around, does ..he ...actually ....?"
Alexander Dorn's voice trails off as the smoldering ruin that was supposed to be a warehouse comes into sight.
"What in...?"
"That's..."
The fire... an explosion... chaos... death... Hagen!

The dwarf takes a couple of seconds to reassemble his composure.
Get a grip on yourself! This is just some warehouse. It has nothing to do with you. Just do your job and leave it behind!
Yes...
Right.
Yes, of course, this is nothing but a warehouse that I happen to pass by.
And buried under the ruins are nothing but burnt boxes and crates, maybe some furniture, documents, a key...
Oh, damn the luck! The key.
This job might prove to be more troubling than expected...
Yet there's nothing to be done about it right here and now.
Guess I'll just procure what's left of potentially useful data and then leave this ..ruin behind.

With that, Alexander Dorn focuses on his Prognosticator for the last time today, his brain aching to memorize the chaotic arrangement of wreckage in the half-collapsed structure.
Being done, he lets out a small sigh, addressing his trusty driver:
"Alright, Mr. Bickle. I guess I've been around enough for today. Let's drive back to my shop, shall we?"

Upon leaving the site, a smoke rasped voice reaches their ears, causing the dwarf's brain to add 1 and 1 and a vivid memory together.
Bismarck!
Oh, this insolent fool! Didn't we all agree on not taking any action yet? Really, why do I have to put up with this level of ignorance and disobedience? Did the cooling on his head fail?
His body may consist of advanced machinery already, but quite obviously his human brain is a critically weak link.
Maybe I should complete the upgrade...




The Bull and Bear, 12:20AM June 18th 1870AD

A sharp knock sounds on the door of the room where 3 men and 1 metal abomination (that allegedly used to be a man too) are gathered to scheme their heinous crimes.
Two seconds later it opens to reveal a familiar sight: the dwarf known here as 'Lex' takes a step inside the now silent room, again carrying his heavy attaché case and walking cane but this time accompanied by a big cardboard tube slung across his back.
Quickly closing the door behind him, he inhales deeply (as if he held his breath on the way through the bar) before removing his hat and announcing:
"Good evening, gentlemen."

"I'm sorry to have inconvenienced you with my delayed arrival," glancing around the room "albeit it seems that I were not the only one."
"How long are we to wait before starting our joint assessment then?"

Not giving anyone the chance to answer, Alexander Dorn commences with his monologue as if to make up for his unpunctuality:
"Regarding our common project, I have with me structural drawings of some of our target locations and their immediate surroundings. Oh, and I researched some general information on the White Star Lines."

Stepping up to the table, he notices the brass key embossed with the White Star Lines logo lying there.
It seems our steam-powered accomplice at least managed to secure the key before devastating the warehouse and alerting half the city.
I guess I should be 'relieved' then, as having to dig through smouldering rubble because of some hothead would have been more than just inconvenient.
"Ah," indicating the key,
"I take it that this acquisition is the result of Mr. Bismarck's premature visit to the late Regency Warehouse on Charles Street, then?
What else have we got?"

Climbing on a chair, he unslings the tube and retrieves several large sheets of paper, spreading them on the table.
As promised, they show not only the precise layout of the houses but also the surrounding area - streets, power and telecommunication cables, water and sewage pipes, the occasional medieval ruin - everything.
They even include detailed annotations on thickness and material of walls, diametres of tubes, supposed purpose of rooms and some acerbic comments about structural inadequacies and shoddy work.
Strangely though, despite the painstaking detail these plans were drawn with, one room on the first floor of the Molson residence and the complete Johannsen mansion were left blank.

Bismarck turns his mask towards the dwarf, and laughs softly.

Now who's the smart one here? Inferior humans, the lot of them can't manage a fraction of what I did alone.

"Ja. It vasn't too much of a bother... he says, nodding. No vun who saw me snatch za key is still alive, und za office is kaput, no? It vill be days before zhey even realize its missing.

Spence, again more than a bit intimidated by the new company he's keeping, steeles himself before speaking.

We were able to locate the key in the small residence, and have two possible means of removing it. Neither should prove particularly difficult, so I believe we have relegated it to a lower level of importance.

The other, in the ... 'society' home, may prove more difficult. Their security is excellent, including a guarding elemental, which would likely detect a stealthy night entry. Desturction of the guardian spirit would alert the summoner, which would in turn alert the residences, and the 'law'.

Therefore I believe our best course is ti simply walk up in full day light, talk our way in the door, then over come those within with sorcery before they can sound an alarm. I can utilize an incantation to force compliance from whom ever we need, and with a little research, remove their memory of the event as well, buying us precious time, and remoing the memories of our faces. I am unsure of what technological defenses may be arrayed against us, but your... timely ... arrive with schematics should prove invaluable.

Spence seems to shrink as he speaks, almost as if he's going off of one long breath of air, carefully controleld and regulated to not sound as if he's rshing through his oration. His little speech finished however, he seems to need a moment to cllect himself again. Absently, he wipes away a bead of swet from his brow with a kerchief.

Jacob nods with Spence's words. I believe he is correct on all accounts.

The Hand simply waits, silent and still, in a shadowy corner. His hands are tucked into his sleeves again, his sharp features inscrutable and alien. He feels, and not for the first time, his skills are being squandered here in the West. If no one tells him who to kill, how can he kill them and do his share?

And so he waits.

The Bull and Bear, past midnight, June 18th 1870AD

Replying to the machine-man, Alexander Dorn feels slightly distracted by the ever-present gas mask hiding what might be a face and ends up looking more through than at the giant in front of him:
"Kaputt...yes, the warehouse is indeed destroyed. Nearly burned to the ground, for what it matters.
Yet, about your involvement in this incident: there is an eyewitness and he gave a vivid description of a person matching your ..rather unique appearance.
I don't know how much he's seen, but when this depiction spreads it can swiftly cause significant trouble for us all, as you, Mr. Bismarck, tend to ..stand out ...a lot."

The dwarf's gaze wandering upwards as he speaks those words, his eyes finally lock with the metallic glint in the shadow behind the towering man's mask.
Continuing his speech, Alexander now speaks with the resolution and determination of somebody totally oblivious to the physical threat this steam-powered war-machine presents, sounding more like a teacher lecturing a pupil:
"Which is exactly why we all agreed on a plan detailing us to actively keep clear of this kind of rash actions during this phase, Mr. Bismarck.
The best plan is but for naught when its execution lacks the necessary skill and focus.
Consider this: had the constructor of your splendid body shown the same lack of discipline and inability to follow a plan that you evinced, you would not be ...as you stand before us now.
Indeed, seeing how a deviation of a mere millimetres' fraction in the fabrication of even the most simple high-pressure valve results in either a significant loss of power and efficiency or prohibits it from functioning at all, the resulting limb would hardly be mobile, let alone superhuman.
Alas, the kind of disregard you have diplayed would be more akin to completely omitting the impulse resonator. And I don't think I have to spell out the consequences of that..."

Making a dramatic pause... that for some confounding reason failed to have the desired effect on his audience, netting him blank faces (and the equivalent on a gas mask) instead,
Lex clears his throat: "Ahem."
"But I disgress..."
Now where was I?
"...ah, yes, of course: Your impetuous act must've caused a substantial amount of money to be consumed in this inferno as well. Money we were authorized to take. Money to fund our project."
Letting the painful truth settle in for a second before finishing:
"I expect your lacking discipline to improve shortly, for the sake of this venture."

With that, Alexander Dorn breaks eye-contact with the machine-man, trying to face all the people present instead (including those loitering in shadowy corners).
Really, from the sophisticated machinery he's employing you could've expected him to be a professional ..at something...
It's honestly disenchanting to witness how all that fine hardware is put to waste on such an inferior, ungrateful creature.

Processing what the man known as 'Spence' mentioned
An "incantation to force compliance" he says...this so-called "expert in the matters of Arcanum" claims to command some devious magicks...
And I don't even want to think about this curse to "remove their memory" - maybe I underestimated the potential danger this sorceror presents...not that it couldn't been overcome by sufficiently sophisticated technology, of course.
he reassured himself before speaking again:

"Yes, I agree that breaching the Johannsen's mansion will be the most difficult of our tasks.
Of course I wouldn't know much about these ..'elemental' things about the premises, but if disposing of them indeed raises an alarm, we'd find ourselves in an undesirable situation all too soon.

As you mentioned being able to talk your way inside in full daylight, that in fact sounds like the adept route to take. Would you mind letting us in on the details of your plan and how we could support your effort?

Oh, and another point springs to mind:
What about the plans from the office building downtown? I think we should not forfeit our last remaining chance to get a bonus this time around."
the dwarf finishes with a sharp sideways glance at Bismarck.

It takes Spence a moment to realize that he is being addressed, so intent is he on the metallic monster that was just, effectively, put in it's place. He didn't think it was wise to try to put anything so dangerous in any place except exactly where it wanted to be. Quickly, he pulled his eyes away to respond.

Uhh.... uh. yes, well, I thought for the actual... ermm.... approach.. 'tactic', Mr Ned might have something in mind, as he was so adroit with on our last expedition.

If you can get us in the door sir, I believe I can make our way easier. And of course Mr. Hand will be on ...erm... hand.... to ...deal with any unpleasantries that might come up.... discretely of course. Which would leave you, Mr Lex to assist us in coping with any technological barriers, and Mr Bismarck as the figurative 'calvary'.

If we could quietly locate this personage who has seen Mr Bismark, it may be possible to alter their memory, that is to say, remove it entirely , of the events involving him. It may perhaps be a bit past time however, not being able to put the cat back in the bag, as it were.

What do you intend specifically for the downtown buidling Mr Lex? And do you also have the layout of the Johannsens?

Stay calm. Stay calm. Breathe steady. no different from dealing with an elemental. 'Calm and confident', that's the key. Just stay steady ...

Jacob smiles at the group. I do believe that we can simply walk up to the front door and let ourselves in as it were. I have found that the aristocracy, as a general rule, overlook two things. Those being, first, anyone appearing to be a figurative peasant who knows his place and second, menial tasks that have no apparent bearing on their life. Thusly, we could potentially gain entry based on the perceived need to repair something in the house, a delivery from the office while the gentleman is out, or something of that nature. Does anyone present have the skills to induce a mechanical failure, or the appearance of one, in some household system?

Spence shakes his head and looks to Dorn Lex, then adds a thought.
We need to be able to find the key's location, likely a safe, or have the lord of the house present, so that I may coerce him to show us it's location. That could make matters complicated. I may be able to utilize a summoned spirit to find the key however, with Mr Bismark's as an example.

Jacob has a puzzled look on his face for a moment. Would said spirit be able to move freely in the house with the other looking on from outside?

If I was able to summon it from inside the house, then it likely would not be a problem. If it was summoned outside, it would have to contend with the guardian, and the wards. Few like having spirits patrol inside their bedrooms however, so I doubt that there would be any elemental guardians inside.

I hope that there are no water elementals.

It's a trick Han has used before. All you had to do was keep your head low, wide-brimmed hat pulled over your features. Bob your head subserviently quite a bit, insult them in Mandarin -- no one else here speaks it, the arrogant Westerners just assume you're being polite or trying to explain the reason for your errand -- keep yourself looking humble, try to sound apologetic, and wave some sort of envelope, or a bundle of clothes, in their faces. Half the households in London get some herb or another from Chinese apothecaries, and the other half used Celestians as launderers. It was easy as pie to sneak your way in, in plain sight. Minorities were invisible in London, especially to the wealthy.

Until the Seven Thunders fist was released, of course, and every kind of Hell broke loose inside their fancy house. Then all of a sudden everyone paid attention.

What is this speck talking about?

Bismarck steams silently, spooling and unspooling his actuators as Alexander lays into him.

Splendid body... lack of discipline... impulse resonator?

With a sudden crash, Bismarck slams one of his metal claws onto the table, splintering a good chunk out of it.

"Vhat do you know about my so-called 'splendid' body! You think this is splendid!? And discipline? BAH! Vhat have you managed to accomplish vith your incessant talk and planning? NICHT!" he screeches, his voice box grinding and squealing with a rise in volume it wasn't designed to accomodate. As for the money, vhat of it? You vould have planned und planned until zhey moved it somevhere else! All I had to do to get zhat vas to take action, somezing vhich I have noticed ALL OF YOU are unvilling to do! I thought this vas a team of cracksmen! More like a team of school-professors und engineers! Mein gott, it took me vun morning to do more zhan any of you did all day!"

Bismarck rip his claw free from the table and blasts a long jet of steam upwards.

Spence reflexively jumps back a step, hands up in what he hopes is a placating gesture.
My uhh... apologies sir, but our actions were merely in line wth our intended approach to the situation. We thought it more prudent to gather a group ... err.. consensus.. since that is what we had decided in our preliminary discussions. If such is as you say, well, 'no harm, no foul', as they say eh? hehe.... If I could have a day or so to ...' bone up' as it were, on the incantation I mentioned, I think we can go a long way to helping conceal our trail, and finish up this messy business. No need to get violent. Just a simple, civilized discussion between chaps... working out the kinks, as it were.

Jacob thinks to himself, This damn brute will be our ruin!

My dear gentleman. ... I can't believe that I am calling this ... lump ... a gentleman. However, when the devil asked me to hold his candle I knew what I was in for. Please, let's not explode with anger at one another. It would appear that we each have a very different methodology for dealing with things. I assume that each of us walked away with a different impression of our objective. As the young man here has said, let us not allow our endeavour to collapse under the weight of disagreement.

The Hand seems as uninterested in the placating apologies of these Westerners as he was blissfully unafraid of the towering steam-borg's outburst in the first place. He merely stands, still and silent, in the corner of the room.

Might I suggest then that we retire for the evening? It will take me perhaps two days to properly study the incantation, during which time perhaps our esteemed scholar and technical expert could study the plans of the House of Johanssen, and perhaps find some weakness we may exploit. We could all stand to ... erm... let off some steam I think...

Spence winces as the words leave his mouth, as if picturing a thrown ball, and realizing as it leaves it's hands that it won't go to it's intended destination, but rather smash into the head of a very large and brutish man who's greatest joy in life may well be the return of a hard ball in a particularly violent manner.

The Hand nods quietly, content to call the day's meeting adjourned before blood is spilled. This continues to be his easiest, if perhaps most irritating, assignment yet; all he has to do is continue to let the Europeans handle all the work, and collect his paycheck at the end of the day.