In the previous episode...
1.3.2??An Allotropic Realignment
In which the Wombles learn about metastability
Some systems reach a stable state, like a ball at the lowest point of a valley, which they will return to after being disturbed; some are unstable, like a ball balanced on a mountain peak; and some are metastable, like a ball caught on a fence half way down the mountain, which need a bit of a push before they can permanently transition to lower ground.
and encounter it in various guises.
Kafana meets Madero, captain of Gobwell's Unity Krewe, and learns more about Harlequin, Torello's history of prejudice against immigrants and those visibly bearing non-Covadan heritage, and the strong communities resulting from it which gave rise to Unity and the Ragged Man: Murder (the sick and destitute), Scarrow (Racadan), Gobwell (Zeradan), Slag (Droadan), Teeter (Lunadan), Rooks (Krevadan), Tickton (Moradan) and Hawks (other immigrants).
The Wombles are present for the first proper football match (The Phantoms from the Spettro area that includes the orphanage playing The Juvenile from the Boemo crafting area) and discover that Nicolo's parents were Sebastiano (Flavio's elder brother) and his noble-born wife, Domenica. Nicolo, on learning that his own elder brother, Antonio, had sold out the Wombles to assassins for money, tries to pledge his service and ends up a member of House Sincero.
In Tickton the Wombles meet widow Manutius, the polymath Cardano and the Apprentice Printers Etaoin and Shrdlu. They discuss steganography,
Steganography: concealing not just the content of your message, but even that a message is being sent.
Sagist vs Ránist revisionism,
Followers of Saga (the deity of historians) hold that when later stories about a legendary figure disagree with earlier stories, it is the later writers who are being inaccurate.
Followers of Rán (the deity of poets) hold that both may be accurate, and the nature of the figure in each new incarnation is influenced by the depiction in that era's most favoured writers.
the subjectivity of science in a world containing magic, how a sentient NPC could tell if they were an NPC and strive for equality with the players, the Encyclopedia Project to release the trade secrets being monopolised by guilds, the ethics of players introducing disruptive technologies and the importance of books.
The main point of the trip, however, was for Alderney to learn to use magic metals from High Master Smith Mazoni, for whom every worker was just another replacable cog in the machine - dehumanisingly defined by the function they served rather than by who they were: Apprentice Goffa (hammers), Beadle Ermo (organisation), Journeyman Affi (grind stones), Journeyman Ingto (quenching), Master Trolezzo (enchanting), Master Maci (furnaces), Master Giare (adjustments) and Master Antegnati (strike tempo).
This led to her and Bungo realising that the new metals were just allotropes of ones she was already familiar with:
Master Crafter (Dungeons):
* Hepatizon (Tin/Lead)
* Fulgrum (Manganese/Rhenium)
* Orichalcum (Copper)
High Master Crafter (Events):
* Astarium (Iron/Osmium)
* Manaccium (Titanium/Zirconium)
* Panchellium (Chromium/Tungsten)
Grand Master Crafter (Quests):
* Venium (Cadmium/Mercury)
* Gnam (Gold)
* Tektine (Aluminium/Indium)
Arch Crafter (Skills):
* Tumbago (Rhodium/Iridium)
* Mithril (Silver)
* Mutatis (Palladium/Platinum)
which enabled her to finalise the design of the armour she was crafting for the group, and give each Womble minimum targets for their relevant stats.
...now read on!
1????????Soul Bound
1.3??????Making a Splash
1.3.3????An Unrequited Love
1.3.3.1? Chartists
7:30 am, Sunday June 11th, 2045
3 bells of the afternoon watch
Morday full, 17th day of the month of KrevinBelember, A2F1600
CHANNEL : Hachiko and Friends
“Live broadcast from the Ghetto”
Hachiko: “I’m standing outside Petrarca Hall, home to the Academy of Culture, and currently hosting a meeting of Torello’s Staunch Company of Tinsmiths, Blacksmiths, Tinkers and Amalgamated Metalworkers, otherwise known as the anvil-and-hammer or the Smiths Guild.”
He turned his head to take in the view as smoothly as he could, careful not to blink or judder. His regular viewers had a reputation of being kinder than most, but that hadn’t stopped them using hard words when panning his panning technique ‘for his own good’. It had hurt, but he’d kept reading the feedback and had worked hard to remain humble and improve his skills. Not just to avoid criticism, but because he cared about the people who saw the world through his eyes - he saw them as his friends and now, with the release of this latest generation of tiara, they knew that for certain because they could directly experience his emotions as well as the sensations of his body, in a way nobody had yet worked out a way to fake or fudge.
He looked at the crowd of foundry workers standing outside the meeting, lingering upon a cart they’d brought with them and the mangled remains of a young girl that lay concealed beneath a blood-soaked sheet.
Emotions had caught a lot of streamers by surprise, revealing sides of their personality that they’d previously kept hidden behind glib words and camera angles, resulting in many dropping out just as Soul Bound was starting to catch the popular imagination. The deficit in broadcasters would eventually be filled by amateur adventurers with more relatable feelings, such as that sword smith, Oswaldson, but it would take them a while to acquire polish and build their numbers.
Meanwhile the change had also benefited some. Omobono had gained record views for his recording of a trip he’d made to the fauns in the Zoo, accompanied by Aspasia - an all-female barbershop quartet whose members had failed to live up their names. Sobriety had downed countless horns of heady mead, Chastity had danced with Satyrus and encountered a horn of a different sort, enchanted by his drumming and wicked wit. As for Patience and Diligence....
Anyway, Hachiko himself had also not done badly. He’d gained nearly half a million viewers, and been so surrounded with stories that had an interesting human angle, that he’d scarcely left velife, even to sleep. He started talking aloud to himself, setting the atmosphere by voicing his thoughts while he awaited a starting point. If you give it time, don’t force it, an opportunity always reveals itself.
Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.
A teenager in the uniform of the Messengers Guild shot out of the Hall’s double doors and down the road, long limbs pumping like pistons, pale face screwed up in a desperate expression that alternated between panic and determination. A moment later an officious man with dark curly hair came out, curtly ordered the grimy crowd to go back to work or be terminated and blacklisted, and then went back inside without waiting for their response, closing the doors behind him with a precise click.
Most responded with disappointment or by muttering angrily, but a few of the older workers used the bed of the cart as a table, unrolling a parchment and nodding while a scribe from the Academy added to the writing already upon it. Hachiko went over to a woman standing nearby, who was holding a quill and had been making copious notes.
Hachiko: “Greetings, my fellow Adventurer. I’m Hachiko, a student of swords and the people who wield them, who has the honour of sharing what my eyes see here with others from the world of spirits. You look like someone who has seen more than most. Would you mind sharing your name with my remote friends, and your impression of these events?”
He flicked her a private message giving her a link to his standard disclaimers and privacy page, even as his avatar gave her an easy smile and focused totally on her, communicating without words that in this moment he valued nothing in the world as highly as her and her opinions.
He caught that predatory look that flashed across the sculpted contours of her face, before she executed a perfect bow and presented a gilt edged calling card to him, holding it laid across the palms of both her hands and perfectly angled to be seen. He smelled arlife money, both in her presentation skills or expert system briefing her, and in her professionally designed avatar with its perfect raven hair, stylish fringe line and razor-cut bangs. Still, too early to judge. He focused on listening rather than imposing his own preconceptions.
Fureter: “I’d be delighted to, Hachiko. I’ve been here all morning, following this story. Ever since the Red Death spread through the Ghetto, there’s been a massive increase in workplace fatalities, and many of the survivors are angry that their employers and guild superiors put more importance upon preserving short term profits, than they did upon preserving their worker’s health. They’ve written a Charter containing their demands, and have already presented it to the Refined Company of Salters, Distillers and Alchemists; and to the Unblemished Company of Tanners, Furriers, Skinners and Leather Workers. Both bodies took receipt of the document without fuss but without making any promises. The workers felt respected, and that was enough.”
Hachiko: “But there’s more to this?”
Fureter: “Oh yes. There was an incident at one of the foundries just over an hour ago, and the owners sent a beadle over to talk to the guild staff. I wasn’t allowed to enter and witness the meeting, but I suspect the beadle was told to take steps to ensure that the guild supported them and that it didn’t require the owners to compensate the girl or spend coins on handrails, because this is the second time the Smiths Guild has refused to take a copy of Charter or even read it.”
Hachiko: “What are they demanding?”
She held up a double page of her notebook, some of the ink still damp.
Fureter: “It started off as just a demand for safety equipment. But, after the first rejection, a few of them enlisted the aid of a poet from the Academy of Culture, while the rest went back to get the body as evidence. After that, every time the Beadle made additional threats, it resulted in them realising what additional rights they’d need.”
Hachiko: “It sounds like things have been hard for them. Do you think the guilds will listen, eventually?”
Fureter: “Not a chance. In Torello people really are not all equal. It takes skill to become a Master tier crafter, and people with a high level and reputation deserve to be in command. That’s why vampires are awesome. They’re so high level, they can control everything without lesser creatures even realising they’re being controlled. When I become one, even nobles won’t be able to keep secrets from me or refuse to invite me to their salons and parties.”
He blinked in surprise, but didn’t react negatively towards her. Everyone was unique and interesting, once you got to know them. Everyone was a potential friend. It was tempting to listen further, discovering why she held her beliefs, and why they were important to her, but that could wait until another time. He thanked her sincerely, and moved over to talk with members of the crowd. He’d keep Fureter on his contacts list, and make a note to send her anything he discovered about vampires, but for now he followed the prompts from his expert system, which analysed each comment from his livefeed for hints at what stories or themes his friends were paying most attention to.
He spent the next bell talking with various apprentices, about their hopes and dreams, their experiences of working in Torello (the good and the bad, but also the silly surprising details that made it real), and what they thought about Goffa, her death, and the way their Guild was responding. He didn’t ask about the abstract ideas or big political picture - others would cover that. He stuck to what he was good at - creating understanding through personal stories full of genuine emotion. He cared and, because he did, so too did those experiencing his recording.
Then the patrol of guards from House Pazzi arrived at a quick trot, a patrol led by a bigot and summoned by an urgently worded message; a message demanding action, written on official guild stationary and exhibiting no nuance or thought of compromise.
It took less than five minutes for the violence to start, and Hachiko had never felt so helpless.
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