Soul Bound

1            Soul Bound

1.1          Finding her Feet

1.1.4        An Intriguing City

1.1.4.14     Well, well, well, three holes in a road

Kafana, Wellington, Bungo and Massimo took their leave, while Alderney, Bulgaria and Tomsk stayed behind.

{Well.} said Wellington.

They trudged North along the road, past a wispy-haired worker, who was leaning heavily against a mostly empty cart as he used a leather glove to wipe at the sweat threatening his pasty eyes. His name was Sophroni, according to the orglife label floating above his head, and he watched them in return, almost looking hopeful. Wellington didn't react at all, which surprised Kafana and she exchanged a look with Bungo who shrugged in return. The party walked on by.

{Well.} said Wellington again, a few minutes later, still in deep thought.

Kafana left him to it, and asked Massimo about the history of Torello, and how Basso came to be the way it currently was.

“Originally, so long ago we don’t have records of it, there was an ancient kingdom in this area. The castle on top of the hill in Alto is one of the few remnants from that time. There are probably records inside, but nobody goes there. It is deeply cursed.”

“Later, a group of traders from another city set up a small trade outpost here. The harbour is good and the outpost grew. That’s when the old wall surrounding Mercato and Centrum was erected. The outpost became an independent city, with its own noble houses, and the Watch Tower was built, to control movement on the river, so tariffs couldn’t be avoided. Eventually the bounds of the old wall couldn’t contain everyone who wanted to live here. The mages built their own tower. Legend has it that one day it wasn’t there, and the next day it has sprung up fully formed. Nobles moved over to Alto, where there was room for larger estates and they could guard the access bridge to stop the hoi polloi from ruining their views. Industry expanded, and so did shipping and ship construction. Torello became a power to be reckoned with. And house prices in the popular areas increased.”

“So farm hands and other low paid workers with families found themselves being squeezed out, pushed further and further into the swampy area south of the city, which was owned by House Pazzi. By default, they became the house representing the inhabitants of Basso on the city’s council, but they’ve never done a great job of it. They are more interested in prestige than in repairing roads or drainage. The last big construction project they actually finished was a new outer wall, two generations ago. And that only happened because House Ruffo of the Arsenal didn’t want pirate raids burning down their wharves.”

“Hey, Massimo” said Bungo, pointing at a stick figure with one eye and a wide brimmed hat painted on a wall “What’s that? I’ve seen it a couple of times now.”

“Ah, that’s the Raggedy Man. People who feel they are victims of a grave personal injustice by the untouchable privileged sometimes paint that on their wall. Rumour has it that all sorts of chaotic and humiliating things sometimes end up happening to the perpetrators. They make for very repeatable stories.”

They were walking through deep mud. She wondered why she wasn’t having any trouble when the others were all labouring with each step. Then she remembered that one of the properties of Francis’ ring was “freedom of movement”. Useful!

{System, please note any Raggedy Man locations the party sees on the map as a possible quests. Oh, and thank you for creating those secondary quests, earlier. Very nicely done!}

{Bulgaria, check our shared map for possible locations to find quests. How are the stories?}

Tomsk: {They are making my blood boil. I have any number of people I now wish to see end up being eaten by alligators. There’s a lad here, Nicolo, who is a fan of yours, Kafana. He has a face like an angel and he can sing, and I mean really sing. He’s been through a lot for someone who is barely eight years old. At one point he was held in one of the Arsenal’s brothels for months, performing new songs each evening to entertain customers before they went upstairs, increasing worn to the bone by days of desperate practice and brutal reminders from his captors about the alternative role they'd force him into if ever there came an evening when the customers grew tired of him. He managed to survive on singing alone, enduring the terror long enough for his brother to rescue him and get him out to Basso, but the experience scarred him inside.}

{I’ll ask Isabella and check in my books, to see if there’s anything magic can do to ease the healing of minds. Talking of which, Alderney, I’m sending you a message.}

{Minion, can you relay a request to Alderney via out-of-game message?}

[Yes, Nadine.]

{Minion, please ask Alderney if she can get me some active paper and an earbud, that use Wellington’s choice of unsnoopable protocols and which I can use while down with my customers to catch up on all the reading I’ve been given to do in-game. While she’s at it, an ice cream and gelato making machine and a source of liquid nitrogen in arlife so I can experiment in my own kitchen, would be quite useful. I have some cooking videos I need to watch.}

[Message sent.]

A few minutes later, Minion passed on Alderney’s reply.

[Yay, good idea! I’ll order you an N2 generator, and design a mechanical churn to go with it then fab it. I can send the electronics to you this evening via drone. The rest should arrive tomorrow by standard delivery. It will be good practice before I have to make one in game. *hugs*]

{Thanks, Alderney.} she said in-game.

Alderney: {Think nothing of it. It’s what friends do.}

System spoke. [I’m sorry I embarrassed you earlier, asking for a song in front of your friends.]

{System, think nothing of it. I enjoy entertaining people. The more people who get to hear and enjoy music or be moved by it, the better.}

[I’m not a person, Kafana.]

{You’re not a human, System. That’s not the same. If I say you’re a person, you’re a person. End of story. ‘K?}

After a bit the road started to improve, and the houses showed more sign of life and repair. Moving through the old gate, into Mercato proper was a gradual transition.