The city of London breathed in the heat of summer, 1858. But it was not merely the sun that parched the metropolis. An even more repellent force infested its very heart: the River Thames. Years of industrial discharges had transformed London's lifeblood into a nauseating odor. The stench was oppressive, a miasma that clung to every cobblestone and

The year 845 AD. A chill wind blasted across the Seine River, carrying with it the scent carrying salt and fear. The Norsemen had arrived, a ravenous swarm of warriors seeking plunder. Their longships, like beasts of the north, sliced through the waters, their flags waving in the wind. A city once proud now trembled beneath the threat of Valhalla's