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 waste had transformed London's lifeblood into a nauseating odor. The stench was overwhelming, a miasma that clung to every cobblestone and per

The year eight hundred forty-five AD. A chill wind blasted across the Seine River, carrying with it the scent emanating from salt and fear. The Norsemen were upon us, a horde swarm of warriors seeking plunder. Their longships, like wolves, sliced through the waters, their flags waving in the wind. A city once peaceful now trembled beneath the menac