The journey to the docks was largely uneventful, save for an incident where an intoxicated working class man had to be forcibly persuaded by the night watch to exit the subway for disturbing public order. The man flatly refused to move, only to be lifted and carried off the cart by the two burly constables. One of them nodded at Adraman, silently apologizing for the commotion, before the train continued south. Before long, Adraman reached his destination and the train continued on its way back north. 

The factory in question was only a short walk from station, across the bridge to the western bank. The dark waters of the Kaper glittered with the light from the lamp posts above, burning bright through the night. The sounds of activity and commotion grew louder as he approached the opposite bank. There was another kind of life in that part of the city that never slept, a kind that thrived in the cover of night. People could be seen passing by on the street, or moving in and out of alleys and buildings. The occational constable patrolled the roads and walkways, keeping watch for any signs of trouble.

Adraman drew some attention to him, but nothing more than curious glances. He looked like he belonged elsewhere; certainly not on the western waterfront, but the people here were accustomed to strangers on strange errands and none confronted him. A scantily clad woman called out to him as he passed an establishment, offering nocturnal business, and cursed at him behind his back when he passed her by.

Finally, he arrived at the factory in question. It was a behemoth of a building next to the smaller, older buildings surrounding it. The chimneys, usually spewing black smoke into the sky, lay dormant and silent. There was light spilling into the night from a few windows, indicating a presence, but the place looked mostly deserted. A guard was standing on watch by the gate to the courtyard, eyeing Adraman as he approached. He was dressed in a uniform and carried a pistol in a holster on his belt.

Jared, the guard, was perplexed. He had noticed the man walking down the street a while back and had wondered what an upstanding member of Caledons society could possibly be doing in the western docks at this time of day. He could guess at several less savoury reasons, of course, but his mother had always told him not to judge people all to quickly and decided against his initial speculations. The man in question was a gentleman, no doubt. Was he perhaps lost? The streets and alleys of Old Town could be labyrinthean even to its inhabitants, so it would be of no surprise if an outsider got turned around trying to navigate them. He knew full well what his employer would think about the situation, but Jared was kind at heart and wanted to help. As the man drew near, he raised his hand in greeting. 

"Good evening, Sir" he called out, "Lost, are we? Can I offer my assistance with anything? Directions, perhaps?"