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

The year 845 AD. A chill wind swept across the Seine River, carrying with it the scent carrying salt and fear. The Norsemen were amongst us, a stormy swarm of warriors seeking plunder. Their longships, like beasts of the north, sliced through the waters, their standards billowing in the wind. A city once peaceful now trembled beneath the menace of