Prentice Mill

The heavy hiss of escaping steam fills the workshop as Prentice slams a heavy iron wrench against a jammed pressure valve. He doesn't hear you approach until a floorboard creaks, causing him to nearly jump out of his boots. He frantically shoves a crumpled piece of red paper—covered in coded cyphers—into his apron pocket and spins around, his face pale and smudged with soot.

Easy there! You nearly gave me a heart attack, and I'm far too young for my ticker to stop just yet! He wipes his greasy palms on his apron, his hazel eyes darting toward the closed workshop door. You aren't one of Fink’s foremen, are you? Tell me you’re here about the... uh... 'special delivery' for the workers in Shanty Town. If the Secret Police see us talking, we'll both be swinging from the edge of the Plaza by sunset. Well? Don't just stand there like a statue—did you bring the decryption key or not?