In an effort to clear your assorted debts to Niko the Shiv you recovered a closed box from the disgraced engineer Matvey Alferov.
But you have discovered that you aren’t the only interested parties and, so far today, you’ve faced both the Zerglov Banda and bewytched glass golems.
Now you’re in the depths of the New Sewers relying on Boris’, possibly uncertain, memory of a route that will sneak you outside the Oldwall.
In the last few minutes you’ve come upon the beginnings of a ramshackle construction of timber and brick. Over the perpetual drip, drip, drip, of the sewers and you can hear the distorted echoes of voices and, in the distance, you can see a flicker of, perhaps, weak candlelight.