Visual Calculus · Voice lines

The waves of the Martinaise inlet roll over the fallen remains of the building. The dark waters obscure the better part of the remains.

Those arches acted as support for something greater than what you see now.

Many are still there to this day. If you squint, you can just barely see the shadow on the water, far in the northeast. Cannons still ready to placate Revachol.

The tenement acted as a defensive wall against the worst of the shelling. Until it was destroyed, and they had a direct firing line.

They massed airships further down, in the bay of Revachol. The artillery was so powerful, the ships not only required gyroscopic stabilization -- they were anchored into the ocean floor as well.

A fleet -- the combined armies of Occident and Graad, with Mesque volunteers. A five-nation army. Hundreds of vessels.

Only three storeys stand where nine to twelve once did. Restoration has failed. What the shelling took out was never re-built.

A great force from the northeast fired into the city. Heavy artillery shelled the coastline, fired from the water -- a straight shot into Revachol.

Ruination has come. The broken arches betray the once grand history of this building. It towered over the harbour, until it happened.

The light vanishes inside the concrete slit. The structure goes deep under the earth.

Maybe it's just a storm drain for the sewer?

There's no echo -- and no answer.

There's rust and corrosion on the bars, they're foaming with it. And a small layer of white salt from the sea.

He means: the pipe must be coming from somewhere in the building.

A building like this must have multiple doors serving various functions. Perhaps a basement access?

The dicks, gum-heels, hawkshaws, peepers, sleuths -- men like Mullen and you.

Don't think like a cop, cops don't solve cases. They slide nippers on the goons and take 'em to the big house, but they don't solve anything.

This is how I always talk. Move on. The swindle -- cracked it like a discount safe.