Soul Bound

1.3.3.22 Escort mission



1        Soul Bound
1.3      Making a Splash
1.3.3    An Unrequited Love
1.3.3.22 Escort mission

Along with Bungo, Kafana was dressed as a member of the Minions Guild by Alderney while Bulgaria briefed them on the appropriate way to walk and talk. Behind her she could also hear Tomsk and Wellington, who were discussing uses of deception in melee combat but, despite being tempted to listen in, she did her best to focus on the briefing which had grown dense with rules on everything from when to spit, to who to glower at.

Kafana's feelings were mixed when the five of them re-entered the Muster only a few minutes later. She was pushing a barrowboy cart loaded with empty glass bottles while Bulgaria, dressed as a fussy journeyman apothecary, loomed protectively over her chinking cargo. He pretended to chide her, but she felt relief that the briefing had ended before her brain could explode.

Behind them, a second cart was being pushed by Bungo. The outlandishly tall and muscular avatar that Bungo used in the game had always drawn attention in Torello, making it hard to disguise his identity. Kafana worried that someone might recognise him and turn him in to Pazzi's guards for a reward, especially since his barrow was piled high with turnips to conceal that Pierrot was lying prone beneath them. Alderney had worked a sticky liquid into his hair, turning it coarse and dark, then arranged it into aggressive spikes worthy of a punk-rock legend, but wouldn't that just draw more attention to him?

She couldn't ask Alderney, who'd faded into the crowd, but as Kafana looked around she felt surprise and then a growing excitement. Bungo, for once, now fitted in better than any of them - just one part krevadan among the others bustling along, filling the streets with crude jokes and bellicose boasts; many were so similar to him that they could have been his cousins. This was going to be an adventure! She threw herself into her own role, whistling a cocky tune and sneering straight back at the miserable journeyman when the goolie-mush dared whinge at her, like he knew tip from arse about barrowing.

After she worked out the nods, shrugs, eye contact and banter needed to fit in with passers by, her second challenge was learning where to steer in order to avoid her cart tipping over or being forced off course by traffic following unwritten rules she hadn't yet grasped. After heading north along Bauer Lane for a couple of minutes, they approached a complex intersection. Beyond it the lane continued across a low-lying field where foul rivulets tricked in from every side towards a large circular iron grating in its center, but she could also see guards moving between the handful of official-looking stone buildings dotted across it and it didn't look inviting. Two other roads crossed the lane, however she couldn't work out where to go and must have looked confused because the journeyman barked an order at her, a smug superior expression on his face.

Bulgaria: "Don't you recognise Guarfont, porter? For Cov's sake, it's the only triangular intersection in the whole of the Ghetto, and the Scia di Spera leading to the well at its center was used by shepherds long before even the city walls were built! Or are you so ale-addled that you forget my master is an apothecary and so his shop stands close to Corvid Court at its western end. Turn left, fool. Left!"

Immediately after, in a much kinder voice, he spoke in the Womble's private chat channel.

Bulgaria: {We do want to go along Scia di Spera rather than end up at the Wet Stocks where Lugo Ponzi is still pining for you. But first, if you wouldn't mind, could you act panicked and take a sharp left onto the wide road we're just passing? I want to take a peek south-west towards the Crush.}

She hid her grin and halted without warning, causing Bungo to swear at her. Nodding at the screaming journeyman and then passing on the blame via an exaggeratedly bored shrug, she rotated the cart in place by lugging sideways on the handles until it almost faced straight back, then shoved it onto Exiles Drive so fast the one bottle shattered and the journeyman only avoided being flattened by leaping out of the way. Bulgaria played it for all it was worth, waving his fist and loudly berating her while actually looking past her, his eyes drinking in every detail that his skills could reveal.

Bungo: {What are you looking for? Will this take long? We have limited time to spend on this trip to Dottore, and we already have three quest lines connected to him that it would be nice to make progress on. I'm wary that the more we try to fit in, the less time we'll have to do each thing as well as we can. Choices have costs.}

Bulgaria: {And actions have consequences. And those, in turn, create further changes; multiplying but, individually, each step is generally weaker than the last - like the ripples that spread out from a stone cast into a pond. That's what I'm looking for signs of. Spreading effects from Pazzi closing its market, both the anticipated ones, and the ones he didn't want or foresee. Stuff he hasn't accounted for is sometimes a vulnerability for him and an opportunity for us. Sorry for the delay Bungo; Kafana, you can turn around now.}

Alderney: {Pazzi hires carters and warehouses to store the impounded merchandise. Fewer carters are now available, so the movement of goods and people slows down, and prices rise leading some merchants to support his action. Meanwhile those who got shut down are now grouped in queues near the warehouses to register their claims.}

Bulgaria: {Which means they are not elsewhere, being recruited by Chartists or casting votes in a guild meeting. Good. But what else?}

Alderney: {I'll ask around. When spreading the Charter to guild-aligned targets in the Mercato district, we should tell the agent contacting them to include rumour about how Pazzi has acted towards merchants, presenting it as an arrogant over-reaction revealing his lack of respect for the guilds and those who have earned their status by skill and hard work.}

The pair continued to conspire in the chat channel, with occasional interjections from Wellington, but Kafana tuned them out. It was time to focus on being in the moment, on the sights, sounds and, yes, even the smells, of the new things surrounding her; to focus on the feeling she felt, no matter how fleeting, and experiencing each one as vividly as possible. Alderney had sent her a wide selection of sense recordings made by other people, but in almost all of them the emotions were sort of muted, like a vision seen through frosted glass or a hearing a song played on a phone lying under a pillow. Did people fear strong emotion the way some feared fast rollercoaster rides? Or did they just fear others would think them weak and childlike if they found out? Hmm.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

Kafana addressed her tiara's expert system: {Minion, I want you to temporarily override the restrictions I set on experiencing overly unpleasant sensations. Use your judgement on when to revert to normal.}

The street came alive. She could smell vinegar with a hint of mothball coming from the store she was currently passing, which displaying a rainbow of yarn samples, and the price that each one could be purchased in bulk. The next one gave off an earthy smell with a slight aftertaste of soured grass, and from its backroom she could hear the sound of undyed wool being carded and spun. They carried on, past mattress stuffers and ash grinders, past shops with barrels of lye and shops with barrels of purity-guaranteed solvents, past perfumes of smoky cedar and musty yeast, past creosote and scorched iron, past stenches putrid and chokingly chlorinous. She took in them all and, when she emerged, there as a prideful strut in her walk. She was a lass from the Rooks, and there were naught better.

Who needed a beaked mask covering their face as a disguise? Attitude and misdirection were better by far!

She paused in her self-congratulation, as a thought occurred to her. Why was Dottore never seen in public without his long beaked mask? Was it a medical thing, perhaps some kind of enchanted item? Was it an image thing, an affectation that had taken on a life of its own, like Dolly Parton having to wear a wig or Boy George having to wear a hat? Or did he need it as misdirection or to hide something? She didn't know.

Kafana: {Guys, got any tidbits or theories about Dottore's face mask and why he wears it? I asked Suor Isabella, who lived with him for years, but she didn't know and she hasn't mentioned healers using magic items to filter out pathogens from the air they breathe.}

Bulgaria: {He's old. Like really old. Far older than Pantalone. He doesn't suffer fools gladly, and considers almost everyone to be a fool - by all reports he is one of the most erudite people in the city, and according to rumour he won't hesitate to use that to browbeat anyone who asks a question that he doesn't consider worth responding to. At least, that's when meeting in person - apparently he's marginally more magnanimous via written communication. I'd guess that nobody in recent decades has considered asking him directly to be worth the risk of being banned from his store.}

Alderney: {I did have a chat with a Master Alchemist who served under Dottore as a journeyman. He said Dottore was brilliant to learn from, a fearless theorist and relentless experimenter. Absolutely fanatic about isolating extraneous factors though. Even vibration from someone talking and temperature change from passing sunbeams. A total perfectionist. It wouldn't surprise me if the mask's sole purpose were to protect his liquids from being contaminated by a stray hair or moisture in his breath.}

Kafana nearly stumbled. To free Flavio from the curse he was under, she had to persuade Dottore that he'd made a mistake? A guy like that? A guy who seemed to have devoted his life to being right about everything, and protecting that reputation?

Oh boy.

The character of the shops she passed was slowly changing. More of them were selling imported components and highly processed chemicals. Both the variety and prices were higher, and each store seemed to target a different profession: veterinarians and healers, race horse dieticians and parfumiers, tanners and engravers. Just ahead she could see a store displaying bottles made of coloured glass, in every size, shape and style imaginable. All of them were empty, but a banner in the window claimed they could sell labels to matched, which they would print and attach for a very reasonable extra fee.

Alderney: {In a moment, you get a chance to ask him yourself. The entrance is here, just beyond the archway I'm standing next to. Is there anything else you need from Bulgaria or myself, before we head off?}

She bought herself a moment to think by asking a question: {Bungo, can you give us a quick summary of the three quests you mentioned?}

Bungo: {Sure. Firstly, the simple one. "An Impatient Patient". Pierrot is alive and uncaptured, and we've arrived before the deadline. Hand him over to Dottore's care and you'll have kept the promise you made to Columbina - quest done.}

Bungo: {Secondly, there's a milestone in the Lovebirds quest chain that we want to complete here. "Debate the Doctor". An unknown enemy of Dottore took control of Flavio and used him to carry into Dottore's home a curse intended to target Dottore's adopted daughter, Isabella. Dottore wrongly believes that Isabella suddenly fell in love with Flavio on that fateful evening only because Flavio deliberately used magic to violate her mind with the intention of causing her to love him.}

Bungo: {Lastly, there's a wild card. In the struggle for control over who has access to the crafting secrets that are currently being horded by the guilds, Dottore is a leading voice among those arguing in favour of the status quo. Among those opposing him are the bibliomancer Enzo Zeno, who is the Count of Libri; the polymath Cardano who is publishing an encyclopedia at the Aldine Press; and, err, us. We accepted the quest "The People's Encyclopedia". I don't know if we can influence him, but it seems a good opportunity to learn more about his arguments and motivation.}

Kafana: {If he's firmly aligned with the guilds, he's not going to approve of what Pazzi has done today. Can we make a case that the Chartists and the guilds share some common interests?}

Bulgaria: {Hmm. Perhaps. He's a researcher and he is still alive, so he probably values safety rules and isn't against new things just for being new. But he'll only hear us out if he respects our opinions.}

Kafana: {Then maybe you could stick around for a bit, while Alderney heads off? My charisma stat in the game may be good, but you're the real thing.}

Bulgaria gave her a bow, dropping the role he'd assumed and indicating that she and Bungo should remove the tabards disguising them. Time to change into some fresh clothes - fun! A warm feeling of anticipation washed over her as she confidently opened her stash, but became tinged with embarrassment as she took in the scale of the magpie-like assortment of items that she'd piled onto shelves at random and as, with increasing frustration, she searched for anything presentable that wouldn't matching any description Pazzi was likely to have of her from the confrontation at the foundry. Why she she kept putting off the task of sorting them until 'later'? She paused her silent self-recriminatory tirade only when a flash of brightly coloured stitching drew a neatly folded costume to her attention, that had been mostly obscured by the carefully stored violin it was sheltered behind.

Yes, her Bardic clothes would do! It was a clearly different look and, if even the fashion-conscious Columbina had allowed Kafana to wear them while performing on stage in Centrale where an audience of thousands would recognise Kafana as Columbina's own Journeyman, then surely the clothes would also be sufficiently presentable for Dottore. She tugged them on. It was a good look for a teller of true tales and she'd earned that title fairly. Now if only Dottore was old-fashioned enough remember all the Bardic traditions and respect them...

By the time she was ready, the other two had already changed, and Bungo had used his own stash to clear away all the bottles and turnips. Bulgaria, now looking more like a respected scholar than a fussy Journeyman, gave her an encouraging smile: {Don't sell yourself short. But if you wish me at your side, then it will be my honour to stand as your knight in shining tweed and, with true heart, go forth to battle bearing but a sword of polished academese.}

The last word before they entered came from afar.

Tomsk: {Do us proud.}


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