Sewers!
When I said a quick heist, I meant precisely that; we were in the sewers the very next evening. They were Third Werk make, back when Bismarck was rebuilding the Germanies instead of leading them into a blast furnace, and they had a grim Teutonic solidity about them. They were also about twice as large as they needed to be, but I didn’t mind that. At least none of us would have to stoop. The smell, though? It snuck in, even past the camphor potions Francesco and I had choked down before entering the place. It’s entirely possible that we both retained our suppers simply because neither of us wished to be the first to vomit in front of the other.
Gefikst accordingly took the lead, being immune to vapors and miasmas. It also obligingly stomped into oblivion several of the giant spiders that lurked down here, no doubt eager to supplement their diet with something, ah, fresher. It is a measure of the awfulness of the place that the combined reeks of ichor and venom actually refreshed the air slightly.
Still, all bad things come to an end, and we had to endure the ordure of the public sewers for only few eternities before we found the access tunnel we were looking for. The gate was secured with an alchemical lock so cheap, I don’t know why they bothered. Because gates are supposed to have locks, I suppose. At any rate, a spare key was left in the same ‘hidden’ compartment that every bloody gate in the Third Werk had, so I didn’t have to bother with picking it myself. Or knocking it open with a kick in just the right place. The fewer disturbances we left, the happier I’d be.