A RIVER RUNS PUTRID: A SUMMER OF FILTH, 1858

The city of London sweltered 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 effluents had transformed London's lifeblood into a nauseating odor. The stench was overwhelming, 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 of salt and fear. The Norsemen were upon us, a ravenous swarm of warriors seeking plunder. Their longships, like serpents, sliced through the waters, their flags billowing in the wind. A city once confident now trembled beneath the menace of Valhalla's embrace.