Suggested Litany Music: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XR68p_k_I88

Dr. Laeventine sat in his office, and penned a letter. His handwriting was very condensed, if still elegant, and it had to be read using a reading stone. The reason that he was writhing this letter was to ask for forgiveness. For the Church had been somewhat active in their study of history and historiography of late. This was an academic positive, and a balance sheet negative-and a very, very big passtime for the few members of the Church that weren't part of the general priesthood and the service clergy. Those in the cloisters, gathering supplies, or in the libraries, sorting out texts, had been involved in the examination and organization of the collection of literature that had been glued to the Church over it's centuries of existence.

Atomic gardening is the practice of exposing a seed or a plant to sustained gamma ray emissions, the purpose of which is to induce mutations that will result in improvements to the plant that make it a more commercially viable cultivar.

Finding out who had written what was one thing. Finding out who they were citing was another thing. And finding out who was influencing them was a third thing. When taken together, the members of the Church were able to recreate an idea of what the history of their scholarship was. In turn, this allowed them to chart out what the history of their scholars was. That started to give them some things to think about: the first being that they were able to decisively confirm the identities of a number of people who had been writing history of the Church immediately after it's founding, and to support their hypothesis about who had been writing the history of the Church after the dust had settled. It also let them ascertain the identity of the scholars who had been occupied with a particular branch of study: researching the wisdom of the lady.

Gamma rays occur from the decay of radioactive material. These rays are emitted as specific atoms break down, and discharge high-energy photons. These photons can pass through normally solid objects, and carry enough energy when they hit a molecule to detach various atoms, changing things. One of these changes is the formation of a blob from DNA molecules called a 'pyrmidine dimer'. This damage results in genetic mutations.

The Wisdom of the Lady can be considered a branch of philosophy that lays out how the natural world works. It is not completely correct, but it has enough wiggle room to let things slide. Most of it is eminently practical; there are prescribed ways to fold clothes and wash dishes, for instance. However, it goes much deeper if a student pushes, and in many cases, the students of the past locked themselves away and studied philosophy in lonely shacks on the countryside. This was the root of much of the Aelish cloister tradition, despite them wanting to pretend otherwise. These writers were content to describe the world and the meaning of things according to Her words. Current Aelbic studies of historiography had recently tracked these writers down, and had been able to determine who their contemporary influences were.

In radiation gardens, plants are typically arranged in a ring that expands out from the radiation source. Intense exposures to gamma rays result in damage to the organisms' DNA that is incompatible with life. Seeds exposed never sprout; plants do not grow. Plants further from a gamma source develop significant tumors and break down, withered by radiation. But plants further enough from the gamma source show mutations that are considered interesting. These are set aside for further study.

And here was where the trail went both hot and cold. Dr. Laeventine had received a report about the findings of the Church's contemporary scholars. Before the official paper was given for his seal, he also sat in on the three day long oral report, and gave questions to the scholars. Their work pointed to one thing: these surviving philosophers had been directly influenced by the last of the old messianic preachers, who were rumored to be conduits of the Lady's influence in the world. The information that they had obtained was supposed to be direct from the divine source Herself.

The source of gamma radiation at the center of a radiation garden has historically been either Cobalt-60, or Cesium 137. Typically, these sources of radiation are in the form of rods. These are harvested from the waste of nuclear reactors, which are sometimes run specifically to produce these end products. The operation of a naturally occurring nuclear reactor will leave some interesting byproducts, and they can be collected and used in prescribed methods. These methods include purification and processing.

The fate of the Lady was known-she was supposed to be very much alive, but upon the air of the world and within the spirits of her followers in traces smaller than they can know. To be able to recite her wisdom, the modern-day Aelish had to rely on written or memorized records. She would sometimes appear in dreams or in a gut feeling, but she was not giving itemized lists of instructions outside of a strict set of methods to make cool water products. There were plenty of other spells and artifices that were attributed to people who had received divine inspiration, but they hadn't been confirmed to be likely divinely inspired-until research had placed them in the right place to receive it.

In the practice of the Aels, radiation sources are typically uranium or natural fission byproducts, located by dowsing while chanting continually. These products are then separated out, cleaned, refined by crude chemistry, and then treated using simple, logic-proof-circumclosed alchemy. Once it's color had been improved, it would be physically concentrated in a single-use, disposable Chalice. The resulting solution was then placed upon an altar in the center of a garden in an open container.

In the past, those who had received the wisdom of the Lady had sometimes spoken of developing marvelous cultivars of plants; one or two of these cultivars were still in use today. A frantic search over a springtime had seen to that. It had also found that anyone who used the cultivars had gotten great yields, however, the plants had looked significantly different from the surrounding organisms. They had been touched by the power of the Lady, and had been turned to a form that She desired.

Radiation gardening did not dominate commercially for two reasons: it was extremely scattershot in it's effects, and it's outcomes were not nearly as competitive as rationally-executed plant genetic modification. However, when the gamma ray did strike true, it produced spectacular commercially viable cultivars, such as the big red grapefruits we all love today. The technique remains popular in Asia, and it has contributed greatly to human quality of life.

And now, the Aelish radiation garden is active. From the center of a pure white altar in a garden set far away from civilization and behind well guarded walls come gamma rays from sunup to sundown. At dusk and dawn a cadre of priests, garbed in white robes and protected by armors of lead enter to take the radiation source to and from a lead-lined niche in the wall. Animals are kept away with bows. And the plants closest to the source die, and those further from the source develop tumors, and those further away grow new flowers and colors.

...and the Church also finds itself in arrears, which is why Dr. Laeventine is writing his letter. He does need to ask for forgiveness, after all.

Thank you for playing!

The Commons Charter of the Land of Aelbaion instructs the Crown to maintain the best interests of the common lands, of which there are all kinds. One kind most dear to the peasantry is the new woods, which have been planted in the last two-to-three decades and have been thrown open to the locals. Here, pigs can graze and fatten, small game can be hunted, acorns can be foraged, firewood collected, and even some small materials can be gathered up. The mushrooms foraging is considered sub-par, but the peasantry have some large logs and they are willing to take the time to let them undergo mycelial marination. Even as the local lords technically put their stamp of authority on the woods, it is the Church who gives them the legitimacy to keep them under their control, and the peasantry, paid small wages, who manage them. The Crown merely sends inspectors by once a year, and forbids the damning of rivers by human hands.

The peasantry is directly appreciative of anything that improves their lives; and the new kinds of woods-by now called Hundred Acre Woods have come to be very highly regarded. The first decade of their existence was well celebrated, the second was marked by a few dozen church openings, and the third will be marked by a bonfire-heavy celebration. With sentient persons having put down their metaphorical stakes in the woods, they are able to plan all-day events! The average celebration starts with a baking of food from local charcoal-typically including acorn bread-and some sour pies. There is wine from cranberries, cut with water so as to not overwhelm the senses. After that, games begin.

Typically, the peasants hunt a large pig that has been painted a specific color through the wood. Multiple teams hunt a pig of a corresponding color, the ones who bring their pig back first win-and everybody gets bacon. In some locations, there is truffle hunting. There are a series of rounds of 'log sports', where peasants compete to carry logs, throw logs, cut logs, and play tug of war with logs. The apex of this is a race to 'treat up a tree'; aka prune it and decorate it. Think of the process of preparing a Christmas tree, but in the fall-and then there is judging about the decorations and gifts left under it. The mechanics of the potlatch are here in full.

As the festival goes on, the peasant party people converge on the newly-built church that the Church wasn't expecting to get built in a geographically convenient place. It rises up on a foundation of raised earth, with some magnificent wooden sculptures of the Lady decorating the front of the building. Torches spring up as the sun goes down, made from locally harvested pitches and resins. The Aelish have established small-scale local refineries for all the parts of a tree that they burn. So small scale that they only run once or twice a month, the Aelish are able to collect pitch, leaf ashes, and dry wood. Charcoal kilns are watched over by the church, and the contents carried off by wheelbarrow. Tonight, the locals warm and light their way by the fruit of their labors.

And they eat pork. Oh boy, do they eat a good amount of pork, mushrooms, bitter fruits, acorns in multiple ways, and then some light game. Of all of the uses of the woods, the obtaining of food is the most celebrated, the most dear to the peasantry. As long as there will be peasants, there will be celebrations in the woods. And as long as the Lady smiles down on her creation, there will be peasants in some form. That is why they celebrate her-with no masters in between their gods.

Artificers and craftsmen in Tarrnakka make use of the entropy dust in a variety of different applications in a wide array of fields.

The surgeons and feldshers use a solution of aqvavit, vodka or any other distilled spirit with rose oil and/or honey and different concentrations of entropy dust to quickly cool down flesh wounds, to clean wounds, suppress infection, rapidly cool damaged flesh, and constrict the blood vessels around an injury, slowing severe bleeding. At higher concentrations, the solution can deliberately freeze tissue, which the surgeons use to destroy diseased growths or cauterize damaged areas. The surgeons are used to saying “better frostbite than death” and they apply that principle very liberally. The entropy dust solution can also be used to reduce inflammation and body temperature or prevent heatstroke or to slow down the venom's spread, giving the feldsher more time to administer an antidote or remove the affected tissue. The use of this medicine can, in rare occasions, have severe side effects like irreversible liver and kidney damage, limb necrosis, blood rot and different cancers but those take longer to develop and the risks can be somewhat mitigated with good aftercare. The specific formulas and ingredient ratios are a closely guarded secret of the alchemy and medical guilds and the supply of the raw ingredients is tightly controlled. Tarrnakkan military has the legal priority to acquire those ingredients in bulk quantities and they keep stockpiles of those ingredients to be able to rapidly increase production in times of need.

In recent history, some tobacco and smokeleaf growers began adding small amounts of entropy dust to their products. Entropy tobacco and hemp quickly became fashionable among Tarrnakkan sailors and soldiers, who prized the sharp coldness it left in the throat. Surgeons and feldschers warned that prolonged use could damage the lungs, but the warnings did little to diminish its popularity and the Guild of Leafwrights worked hard to promote its use as a symbol of freedom, funding studies to paint foreign unadulterated tobacco and hemp as poison while Tarrnakkan ones as cleaner because the entropy dust has sterilizing qualities and helps you out on a hot day.

Why settle for raw leaf when you can have pure Tarrnakkan Golden Leaves? “Tarrnakkan Golden Leaves™, It’s Entropied!”

Seeing the success of entropy dust smokeables and a rapid growth of newly established entropy dust consumables market, Tarrnakkan guilds began a rapid drive to experiment with them and to put new entropy consumables to the market. Some of the upcoming products include entropy sugar, entropy candy and sweets, entropy ice cream, entropy milkshakes, entropy pastries and entropy liquor.

“Tarrnakkan Entropy Goods™ - Live Cold. Live Free.”

Entropy dust-based coolants and salts can be enclosed in brass, silver or lead to create temperature-controlled and insulated containers that can keep whatever is inside them fresh, refrigerated or frozen for as long as the entropy-based chemical inside isn't all used up. This is particularly useful to transport luxury products, meat or fish, as a standalone rechargeable appliance in homes of the wealthy or in community and/or guild halls where each member of the community gets a small portion of the internal space to store their own goods. Entropy dust can also be used in specially designed chambers altho those quickly become prohibitively expensive when the room becomes decently sized so its mostly used for military and government purposes and for commercially essential cold storage.

King Aldebaeric and Queen Ethellebelle sat on a balcony somewhat about the city of Couroffe and looked down at the masses of people moving about. The city's renovation was continuing, with paving sites stretching for miles. By the end of summer, the main roads would mostly be paved over, connecting with the castle and the thoroughfares up to the noble's apartments. There had been no good reason to not do this; however, the person who put themselves out there would be known as 'the guy who fucked up city traffic for ten years'. It would take a King Al to be able to get away with this.

Well, Aelbaion had King Al. And it also had Queen Belle.

And both of them were sitting on their balcony, trying to figure out what to do. Aelbaion had entered into an era of incredible peace and unstable prosperity, and the royals had to do their damnedest to keep it there.

"Belle, more wine?" The King held up a jug.

"Yes. I have not had any today." She rubbed her temples.

"Really?"

"Yes, unfortunately. Luncheon has been extremely lacking."

"Well, put some more store in supper. Good food will not make a day go ill."

"Unless someone's trying to poison you."

"Well, someone isn't trying to poison you to all of the time."

"If only...we are royalty, after all."

They were. Servants brough around various things for sitting on the balcony, sunshades and a fan. Someone else brought ice.

"Have you found anyone to give you an ice engine?"

"Not yet. But I have just started looking.' The King settled in to enjoy his beverage. 'The prestige of the Kingdom is a continual effort, after all. I should mention that we are continually aided in our efforts by our fellow gentle-bloods."

Belle sighed. "Your highness."

"...yes?" It was never good when she said that.

"This entire arrangement of those with gentle blood is maintained by force of arms. Your father established a system where the houses would raise each other's children as pages, but before that, they had hostages. If there was to be war, then the houses would see their finest members get killed. He formalized it by making it a 'servant' arrangement, with nobles suitable for those of gentle blood to serve, but he truly forced them to swallow a potion that they do not want to consume."

"Well, now they act like they like it."

"Yes. Somehow, he tricked them into getting an entire arrangement going, and now they can't stop doing it."

"I am amazed that you avoided getting Vespasian involved in any such arrangement."

Belle arched one eyebrow at him. "And what is that supposed to mean?"

The King looked surprised. "What do you think it means? Everyone thinks that you're going to be somewhat less than a maiden because you defended and got out with a Great, and then you've got them drinking cyanide in their cups because it's the fashion. You played them like a harp."

"Thank you. Now what are we to do with them?"

"With Vespasian, or his friends?"

"With the spare nobility. They're not all fighting, you know. And even those on the rosters of the nobles aren't often fighting. They are training, preparing, and sitting around being potential dramatic plays."

"What do you propose to do about it, Belle?"

"Well, we should apply more of Vaneric's remedy. He was right, I do think. He just didn't fully explain what he was up to to anyone, including himself."

The King quietly sat forward, looking at the floor. "I wish you had been around to tell him that when he was alive." Silence sat between them. "You...there is...by far a greater share of wisdom out to you than many would believe. Many will say you have great guile, or surpassing beauty, but...you are wise beyond either of those."

"Thank you, Al." She didn't know what to say, just reached out and squeezed his hand quietly.

They ate some hors d'oeuvres, talked quietly about nothing. Eventually, the King got back on track. "How, Belle, am I to save my Kingdom?"

She dabbed her mouth with a napkin, thought for a moment, and then began. "Your father, Vaneric, who we call Van of the vanguard-was a man who envisioned a new nobility. With war over, they were to be able to become practitioners of the gentlest of roles; they would make fine scholars and excellent artists, exemplars of good conduct and chivalry. There are two problems: that no one told them that, and that they do not really want to do that."

"Well, they are born with sword in hand and lance on the side table."

"Yes. And I cannot change the circumstances of their birth, so I must change the circumstances of their childhood."

"Do tell."

"Vaneric wished for the nobility to be chivalrous in all things: in their conduct with each other and the smallfolk and on the field; in their recreation and their duty. That he began with the practice of hostage-trading and household service, and it reached it's current peak in the practice of appointing Staff Pages. Of course, this is all to to be a noble knight. They are meant to fight for their lord, for the Lady, and for justice. As you well know. You were one of the first Table Pages. I would change that. As their wards, they have a responsibility to send those who would benefit from more schooling to good colleges, to hire in tutors."

"They have a responsibility-are you deriving that clause from their original oath of care?"

"Yes. The oath of the person taking another to watch involves bringing them to their full realization. Those with the potential should be able to use it."

"I see. What would they do as scholars?"

"Study virtuously for their entire life. Learn new things, and communicate them to others. Treat in no falsehoods. Quest for the ultimate understanding of things. And such. They can all live together, and teach others for coin and chores and the like."

"That sounds like forming a roving college."

"Yes. But they should be settled in some proper building. Like a cloister that the Church gave them. If you catch my drift. But one that is not for cloistered actions-only for safe study."

"And they will go there and be chivalrous readers?"

"Yes. You have an objection?"

"No, Belle, a suggestion." His Majesty leaned forward. "If they are put up in the city, then they will be more engaged with city life, and more distracted-and at the same time more accessible. This will let Aelbaion get something out of them."

"So people will call upon with requests and objects of interest, and they will be busy being self-funded chattering classes. Lovely. What do we do if they do not want to do that?"

"Damn." Said the King. "We need to keep them busy."

The Queen rolled her eyes. "Are we to give them jobs? Commission some fine manuscripts?"

"If needs must, we will. But the nobles can also make good and loyal clerks in service to the Crown. The best scholars can go to the house in the city by the river. I should ask Vespasian to...no."

"Yes...he doesn't like the Midnight Readers."

"He seems to tolerate Pentalos."

"He wants to beat Pentalos with every fireplace implement in the castle."

"I do not like Pentalos much, but that is too much. His rages are frightening, Belle."

"Has Ves said if you can use he?"

"Yes. He said we could use it in conversation about him in a letter. I am worried about how angry he gets. The last time...he raged for two hours, threw things. I was terrified he would draw a sword on me."

"You stayed with him, Al." she rubbed his shoulder, and a servant gave the King some sympathetic fanning. "And you let him get it out of his system."

"I just hope he is taking his medicine." For the first time that week, Queen Ethellebelle saw how old the King was. "His fellows has the future. And it is full of engines. But we only have one Vespasian."

"We do. Perhaps I will ask him to purchase the property. He has good taste."

"I...yes. He will like doing that. You were saying something...I'm getting ahead of us."

"We will need to give the nobility jobs for those better suited to those who are good at clerking, and not interested in scholarship-"

"I suppose we can give some light stipends and plenty of copying to do. Lady knows I can order some reorganizations. We need it for when the levies are raised. And they will be raised again."

"We can discuss that later." Her Majesty smiled. "For now...it is time for Vespasian to do a favor for his parents."

As Good King Al works to make the capital more passable in the modern day, he collects projects by the dozen and completes by the single. He also passes off a lot of projects to other people-like the sidewalk renovations around the palace. Everything there has become an absolute mess of retention walls and stone piles, pits of earth and surveying lines. It has been so bad that the nobility are effectively flying in and out of their own houses if they have not cleared out for the summer season; the only saving grace is that linear progress can be observed by anyone living nearby. King Al had taken to hiring random citizenry to help bring stone and shovel dirt, and under the watchful eye of the royal guard, the sidewalk project is getting done. While the nobles are getting it first, they are also getting the prototype version of sidewalks; the citizens of Couroffe are going to receive better.

While this chaos reigns around the Palace, the King is enjoying a smaller win: the opening of the Royal Menagerie. This large complex is located outside of the city, and can be reached by tree-lined roads that have been freshly pruned. Inside this compound are dozens of pens for exotic animals, cages for strange-and normal-creatures, and a small aviary for birds. A specialty sun-pen has been set aside for reptiles, and there are multiple run-tracks for larger creatures. Viewing can be done by the bold from closed galleries that are reinforced against an angry creature-or one that is hungry for the food that might be carried around by a visitor.

Naturally, the menagerie has some geographic limitations. It cannot bring animals from everywhere, contain the greatest creatures, or keep them all alive. Even with a burgeoning staff of veteranarians, animals get sick. Isolation wards are already being planned for sick critters, and a funding has been set aside for a second operating theater. The kitchens are constantly busy trying to prepare more and more complex cuisines, the delivery yard is always busy, and there are always openings for porters. A compounding pharmacy has been knocked into existence in a squat building, and the amount of live animals being brought in for food have given rise to a mini cattle drive weekly.

Even if the Menagerie is still undergoing shakedown, and the logistics of running an entire operation of this kind are still proving difficult, it is already attracting plenty of the right kind of attention. Groups of sightseers from Couroffe frequent the menagerie, paying to see the animals. Scholars from across the Kingdom are always writing in with questions or doing comparative investigations of the animals; even some artists are doing anatomical studies and using the critters as subjects. While the King's largesse is definitely needed to keep the Menagerie open, there is an unusual steady stream of revenue.

It goes without saying that the Menagerie has a different purpose than just improving the King's prestige-being able to keep these strange and exotic beasts is a sign of royal power and resources, but it is also a place for the Crown to do continual research on how to best upkeep it's extremely powerful horses and worse. There isn't much that isn't getting at least a superficial investigation, and the Crown makes no bones about it. However, any visitor is likewise at least coming away having seen some cool beasts.

And donations of critters, of course, are welcome!

'The Aelish are a primarily cattle eating people, at least by choice. Not for nothing does virtually everyone in the far reaches of the country describe themselves as a cattle farmer or a rancher, and cattle drives rumble across the country for half of the season. However, beef is more expensive than chicken, and always will be for the period of time that we are concerned about. That, combined with a relative premium on feed and water in high population areas, has meant that the Aelish have plenty of chicken as well. Nearly all chickens are kept outside in fenced in areas in the day and stored in coops at night, protecting them from predators. The ownership of roosters is fairly common, and the rooster is sometimes 'shopped around' in a parody of horse studding. A few fancy varieties of chicken have been created this way, but most breeding has focused on making chickens that put out more eggs or taste better.

Chicken breeding is at it's highest rate immediately outside of the cities, where birds are brought in for slaughter and sale early in the day alongside carts of eggs. This is a unique middle ground for commercial operations: the bucolic nature of the countryside is within easy reach of the city market's power and the craftsman's skill. Here, agricultural innovations are more likely to be widely adopted because it's cheaper to do so. A simple observation can be turned into action much more easily. And an iconic observation was the 'egg oven'. Henkeepers observed that their flocks enjoyed nesting near chimneys in winter, and laying eggs near them-but eggs laid near constantly warm areas were more likely to hatch.

This was known as a fact for a little bit, and wealthier house-owners would soon develop little spaces in their chimneys for chickens to lay eggs on. The question was then asked: why not go further? The chickens liked the oven, but the eggs hatched very easily and reliably in the heat after the rooster was let loose. A flat oven top could be modified into a surface with divots. Egg could be inspected by sunbeam during a run, and the ovens could be powered by anything, since they didn't need to hit a high temperature-in fact, it was better to keep the oven heat sources lower, so that the eggs wouldn't overheat.

Subsequent designs expanded in size and egg incubation capacity by quite a lot. Underfloor heating methods were leveraged to massively expand from ovens to racks of eggs fed thermal energy by channels of air. By keeping the hens nearby, it was possible to keep these ovens loaded for much of the year, a calendar that predicted the seasons helped determine when to limit oven fires. The employment of egg-ovens succeeded in the Aelbic countryside for the same reasons that they succeeded in Egypt before this shard's start time: the cost of operations could be greatly reduced. That was all that it took.

This is not anarchronistic technology, but nevertheless, it had some anachronistic outcomes. The Aelsish somehow could enjoy cheap chicken in nearby cities, and enjoy it continually. The birds would eat bugs from nearby farms and cast-off grain, the operators would collect dung and scrap wood, and the incubators would run continually. Poulty was somehow cheap, and common-despite all of the odds. It shouldn't be. And yet, in some small parts of the Kingdom, the plenty of the earthmill was peaking through into some parts of the cities, too. Things kept changing, and the destination was left unsaid.

Throughout Ayetho, Demani Nests and Clusters coexist peacefully under the Aujo. However, the green mountains were not always so contented.

The greatest feature influencing this contentment is the Eyn themselves. Although not part of a Nest, the Eyn travel much more freely and flexibly, allowing them to bridge the distance between Nests that may nominally be under the influence of the Aujo.

As the current lineage of Aujo came to rise, with them rose a unique treatment of Eyn.

These new Au, or at least, new at the time, were by chance a less insular bunch, and uninterested in driving out every little settlement between Nests when many a Nest had fallen to such aggressive intraspecies competition. Instead, these Au treated the Clusters as akin to Nests, and sought their subjugation instead of expulsion.

In time, this led to Clusters around the Nest to develop in a unique manner to the sporadic free Clusters. The subjugated Clusters would come to form into relatively evenly spaced waylines between Nests, with administrative travel being easiest where places to rest already existed.

This would develop into a more formal relationship, with the Aujo formalizing administrative roadways to be from Cluster to Cluster, following the flattest path between Clusters, rather than shortest, to ensure tribute would easily make its way to the Aujo's Nest.

And, as the roads became compacted into the earth, rest stops would begin to develop at regular intervals as well, a day's cart travel from the previous. From here, the roads would evolve further.

These rest stops, in time coming to be called Engipfay, would only be guaranteed to have a small number of beds, nearby fresh water, and stable foods in sealed jars. However, this combined with the roadworks would come to be enough to spark great movement across the Demani's territory.

With the Eyn especially making use of these roadways and Engipfay, it would soon come to pass that rumors and tales would spread between Nests more quickly by the Eyn rather than officials, until, informally, the Eyn would begin delivering messages outright for gifts or rewards.

Although no one could say for certain when this courier system began, it resulted in informal communications becoming far more rapid than ever seen before in Demani history, with record keepers between Nests especially making use of the courier Eyn to compare records.

Now, times have changed much in Ayetho. Friendships are held between Demani who do not share Nests, and the Eyn of Ayetho are not seen hostily like in centuries past, but rather as middlemen for the gossip and stories enjoyed by the various workers busy outside, and carriers of information by the record keepers and more scientifically minded inside the Nests.

The Eyn, after decades of spinning and spreading information in this way, would finally see their developments find glory for them, for the officials of the Prime Nest, workers of the current Aujo, would seek the clusters out, one by one, and deliver a most satisfactory message to the wanderers between the Nests.

The Eyn of Ayetho, in the good year of 8 CE, would be pronounced the official message carriers for formal Nest-to-Nest communications, and would be expected to have carriers at the ready for all Nests in Ayetho. In return, each Nest would give the Clusters Eyn call home a gift proportionate to the importance of the message, as well as to the quality and quantity of deliveries.

When Luca woke, the first thing he noticed was the weight. His whole body felt heavier, slower, like he was in the deep tides dragging nets through the water from both arms. His legs felt light and his shoulders heavy. He felt the rustling of vast webs of skin tickled by faint breezes, and opened his eyes.

"He's awake," he heard someone say. His eyes were bleary, and everything was too bright and loud at once. He felt more than heard the flurry of movement around him as several humans and harpies dressed in healer's tunics came to where he lay.

He was in a nest-shaped bed that smelled of thatch covered in dry sheets of soft white linen. A linen blanket half-covered him. An amulet on his wrist monitored his heartbeat, pulsing a steady red in time with his heart.

In moments, a pair of human attendants helped him to sit up at the side of the nest, each gripping one of his weak arms. He realized shakily that the human attendants gripped him by his thumbs. His arms with thicker and longer, his chest deeper. Where he'd once had hands were wings, new-webbed with membranes that glowed like leaves where the morning light passed through, revealing an intricate network of blue-green veins just under the surface. A fine peach fuzz alerted him to the slightest breeze.

They checked his breathing and his pulse and weight while he marveled at his new body. His legs were so short! Luca was shorter now, the height of a child. They had him stretch out new wings as far as he could. Almost sixteen feet wide!

"You're going to be one of the largest harpies in the sky," someone said conversationally as the two attendants continued their medical examination. "That and your skin will make you stick out like a sore thumb."

He looked over his shoulder, vaguely noticing that he could now do so without twisting his torse, and saw a female harpy hanging from the rafters. She was very handsome, with broad shoulders, defined abs, and a narrow, triangular face. Her nose was very straight and her eyes were gold.

"I'm Lirio," the newcomer said, fluttering her wings in an intentional gesture. Luca thought he recognized it as something like a human wave or pesci tail-flick to say hello; though as a rule pesci and harpies didn't spend much time in the same places, he'd watched them as a child. "I'll be your gevisto, to help guide you as you get used to your new body." As she said it, she looked him up and down appreciatively. "Your very attractive new body."

Luca flushed as he realized he was standing naked in front of three people. He was still so shaky, his mind full of fog, that he hadn't noticed. Fortunately, one of the attendant healers, glaring at Lirio, wrapped a loincloth around his middle.

"Have you been a gevisto before?" Luca asked. She looked about his age, maybe younger.

"You'll be my first," she said with an impish grin. "You're stuck with me for the next six weeks. After that, we'll see how you get on."

"Lovely," Luca said, flushing again. What was it about her that put him on edge? He felt like he was being circled by a particularly nosy shark.

Gripping him by the thumb on each side, the attendants escorted him out of the room. His legs were so small and weak now it was like trying to walk in a handstand. His feet palmed the floor like hands, with splayed long toes like fingers and a new thumb. They felt weak and tender on the ground. The attendants led him to another small chamber with harpy-style furniture and a harpy-style food sack. One side of the room was taken up with a large mirror.

Finally he faced his new body. It seemed almost someone else's body, yet it somehow matched what he'd dreamed of since he was little. Luca's skin was still the familiar pale green of his pesci form, but the shape was completely different: almost comically-small legs with hand-like feet instead of webbed frog-like feet, a thin rat-like tail instead of his powerful swimming tail from before, a longer, more flexible neck. Fuzz and fur instead of scales. And wings, enormous wings where he'd once had arms and hands.

His was the same face he'd always known, but everything else was different. He felt a rush of anxiety. Had he made a mistake? Luca was trapped this way for the next ten years, clumsy and soft and ungainly in an unfamiliar body that didn't quite want to follow his directions.

"It'll be okay," Lirio said. She peered in from the room's doorway, her face sympathetic. "It can be overwhelming at first. And very frustrating when you can't get you're body to do what you want."

"You've transitioned?" Luca asked in surprise. She didn't seem old enough.

"Not me, but my best friend was born male. I wasn't her gevisto, but I helped her through some changes, after she'd cracked the egg. She told me a bit what it's like. It's part of why I was interested in volunteering." Lirio shrugged. "Hatching fears, it's called."

"I know," Luca replied irritably. He'd been there for Gariqe's transition, after all, and he'd listened to uncle Antonna. He just hadn't expected it to affect him, when this change and this body had been what he'd dreamed of for years. "I didn't make this decision lightly, you know. I've been preparing to go on Sojourn for almost ten years."

"Don't bite my head off, big fishy." She rolled her eyes. "Fine, let's get to work then. We'll head down to the practice netting so you can try maneuvering that great big body of yours. You can tell me everything you think you know, and I'll tell you all about how you're wrong."

Request for Further Inquiry

Honourable Mst-SMotKn Cirrus, your student has observed a phenomena of interest and requests resources for further development. Shortly after implementing the use of miniature windmills of standard dimensions for testing the efficacy of sailcloth, one of the lower apprentices accidentally set the apparatus on fire while inspecting it using a candle. There was no significant damage as it was doused right away, but given the time it would take to dry (and our reluctance to make further use of fire in proximity to it) a decision was made to repeat the prior experiment with the sailcloth wet. To our shock, almost as soon as the blower had been cranked up to speed we observed a much greater motive force. It is our current theory that, while adding weight, the bits of water within the sailcloth clung sufficiently tightly as to plug the holes through which air would normally slip in even the tightest weaves. Your student humbly requests that her team be diverted towards a method of reproducing this phenomena reliably, and in dry conditions, such that the efficiency of all sailing vessels may be improved and the standing of all Sailmakers may rise.

-----

Progress Report

Iteration 4 - The use of seawater appears to be a dead end. Despite consulting the literature several times, there is no reliable long-term method for preventing the buildup of heavy salts, nor the issues of corrosion. Fortunately, an acquaintance of your student has suggested the use of oils as a fluid medium incapable of drying, and this avenue is to be pursued next.

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Iteration 5 - Your student once again seeks forgiveness for involving those whose identities had not been confirmed by her teacher. Regardless of its origins, however, the use of oils has proven promising. While the need to prevent them from seeping out of the cloth itself is an ongoing challenge, my team has begun developing formulas for thicker mixtures fulfilling the same role.

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Iteration 7 - Beeswax-oil mixtures based on leather polishes hold well in indoor tests, but have failed in direct sunlight due to the mixture melting. Investigations into firmer mixtures are ongoing.

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Iteration 15 - It has come to your student's attention that certain oils harden to a solid state in air. Use of these oils has become a focus, but their brittleness is a major concern.

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Iteration 22 - New mixtures developed using these hardening oils are functional, but the tradeoff between staying solid and not cracking is proving difficult to navigate. A third literature review is underway.

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Iteration 25 - A reformulation of one of the beeswax mixtures from iteration 8 using a hardening oils has proven successful in all primary tests. Your student requests your approval for final documentation and manufacture.

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Request for Special Promotion to Master Sailmaker of the Knowledge Following Special Achievement

In accordance with association ordinance 315C, and having met all preconditions thereof, a recognized Master of the Knowledge of the Freeport Sailmakers Association has put forth an Apprentice to the Knowledge for promotion to Master status outside of the recognized semiannual exams in light of personal achievement which substantially furthers the craft.

Sponsoring Party: Mst-SMotKn Cirrus

Sponsored Party: ApttKn Nest

Status: Approved

As the world changed, Aelbaion changed. As Aelbaion changed, the people in it changed. And as the people in it changed, so did it's scholars and intellectuals. And as the literati changed, so did the nerds. As the nerds changed...well, things got just as weird here as they did elsewhere. Aelbaion had now become intent on engines, engines for everything, engines for anything. They seek to build engines, even if they do not know what they are doing, or if their definition of engines is a little...different. For us, an engine is a machine that consumes fuel or power to produce mechanical power. For the Aelish, an engine is a mechanical contraption that will do things. Whether or not it does these things well does not matter. The Aelish want an engine.

Enter the 'enginers'. This is not a mis-spelling. The weird few who are able to get and risk lots of capital on making strange things that do mechanical stuff in some way call themselves 'engine-ers', those who make and deal with engines. They are generally descended from millwrights, with a few hopping in from other professions like instrument-making and armoring. They have workshops that are rife with carved wood and spring-steel, typically making something that looks like an extension of a clock or a mill for their patron. It is common for their gadgets to be painted garishly, and to need repainting after a few years. Some of them are supposed to be making carousels, but they're not doing too well at that.

Whatever they are doing, the engine-ers are doing well at attracting attention. While not adept at advertising per se, they are good at show business, and some have already made apparatus for circus performers. The Crown has also hired a group of Engine-ers to work on the new printing press that it has bought from the Tritechniquon; they have been tasked with making the Engine a House, an official building with a dedicated workflow. Another group has been hired for the task of making 'various machinery with water and wind engines for the support of laborers and craftsmen', and been taken away upcountry. Mill owners-who knew many of these people when they were millwrights-have been giving them a decent share of attention. It is highly likely that they will leave their fingerprints all over existing equipment in the future.

But the biggest sign that society has accepted that the Church has also opened a conclave to develop a new 'blessing for an Enginer. The Church operates some of the most common third spaces in Aelbaion, it is de-facto the country's social welfare provider, and everyone knows someone in the Church-who knows them right back. To be given a blessing from the Lady while being recognized as a completely new profession is a sign of academic and institutional backing of the validity of one's career; and it means that one is expect to be working in this capacity for the rest of one's life. (1)

Oh, and His Majesty has let it be known that he will pay 100 Florins for an engine that can make ice.

1. The idea of retirement hasn't really come into force in the middle ages for normal people.

This advertisement has been transcribed from dictation by a licensed Tarrnakkan guild scribe and is reproduced verbatim.

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• use in creation of experimental and artisanal plants and arts

The Royal Woods has a long and storied history. It is nearly as old as the institution of the Crown-not the King-itself, and has been part of the group of lands, titles, and people that make up the royal household four years after it's founding. The Wood is not actually contiguous; it spreads across the entire Kingdom and often contains parts of other people's forests. The Woods contains the Royal Forest, a source of wood and ever-important hunting events-but by itself, the Woods is a general-purpose area. While the Forest wood is only for getting one's hands on high-quality crafting materials-like ship wood-the Woods is for firewood, normal crafting material, nuts, pigs, fruits, leaves, potash, charcoal, and fun forest festivals that helps to block out the existential horror of a deep woods without any people in it for days around. In the Woods, plenty of thinking creatures can hear you scream. Many of them would like to eat you for breakfast.

Traditionally, the Royal Woods have been blocked off in some way or another. They have been the remit of the King and Crown for their private endeavors, which typically include showy and entertaining hunts. Peasants and neighbors have often been forbidden from hunting on them, from taking wood, or from letting their livestock graze on them. The back and forth between poacher and patrol has gone one for centuries, and it is immortalized in song, dance, woodcuts, and plays. Plenty of such scales being tantalizingly out of reach has brought peasants to break the law for generations, and it has twice been the cause of major revolts against the Crown.

But not anymore. When he began to put the Great Charter into effect, King Aeldebaric declared that much of the Woods was Common Lands, with great fanfare. This act unleashed a tidal wave of plenty and prosperity in impoverished areas as centuries of stored wealth was dispersed, at the same time, the King's explicit choice to use the Commons model of property kept the rush of grabbing hands from making off with everything and challenging enforcement actions. He had right on his side, and this wedded many peasants to the King's Cause. That, and the permission to sign their pigs up for fall fattening on acorns. As the peasants moved in, the Crown managed to uphold the mantle of legitimacy and keep control over it's properties by setting up ques.

The Crown would never repeat this high. Frankly, it didn't have to. Sensibly, it didn't try to. While regulating the taking in a safe way-and using the strength of the law to prevent other nobles from horning in on the action (without paying very large bribes)-the Crown was able to pull off a few other useful things. Principally in -5 CE, it officially regulated the Royal Forests into places where wood would be left to grow for ships-after no less than 17 tries-and then published an official guide of hunting locations. The Crown possesses many powers-force of arms and the Arreriere-Ban, the tax and the Law, but also more subtle ones with a smiling public persona. The first of these is being a tastemaker.

The second of these is showing off the King's sense of humanity and reverie, his love for the human spirit-and for the world itself. Some of this, of course, is also practical. The King has slapped his recommendations into a pamphlet that serves as a tour guide to the forests for anyone with the time to walk around and not work. At the center of this tour guide is the 'Forest Most Sacred', an arboretum made originally to preserve lines of trees for replanting. Now it has matured into a large park where people can walk and ride through, experiencing the minor beauty that the people supported by the Lady can make real. Inside are a few nice artificial water features, some bees, and an apiary. There is also a colony of over 20,000 bats.

Oh and there are those Royal Scholars again, just working on this or that problem for the Crown. Not their Royal Highness, but the Crown.

And sometimes the Church.

The Aelish nobles usually make parties happen, and that's because they customarily throw parties when they meet. Curiously, this isn't a simple show pecuniary power, but an abrupt redecoration of space and time to become something that they preferred it to be. They had gentle blood, and gentle natures, and they wanted their surroundings to be suiting to their gentle selves. This often meant getting completely drunk on fine wine while wearing finery and talking about their fine selves. There were lots of variations on these themes, but a few of the nobility liked to put on airs likes being patrons of the sciences instead of readers of bizarre spellbooks and annoying gossips. These were the Midnight Readers, who his majesty King Al had personally just put in quite a lot of effort to appease. As a 'party', or group of nobles who parties together, they were worth appeasing on the surface.

More importantly, appeasing the Midnight Readers has given King Al a bit of a boost with another party: the 'Trade Lords'. This is not their real or chosen name, but it is what everyone else, from the Empire to Freeport calls them. They have to deal with it, but at least it gets them to their intended audience. They are the primary sellers of wool, exporters of grain, and bringers of fish to the inside of the country. Their consent to move goods is probably the biggest check on the royal power of deciding who eats and who starves, and they have been enjoying a guarded detente with the Crown for the past 3 and a half decades. The Crown's recently appeasing of the nerds has gotten plenty of attention: by managing to make them happy, King Al has stopped the Midnight Readers from being annoying in public, and so far done so in such a way that it has not cost too much money...yet.

At this party, King Al has rented a suite of rooms above a banquet hall-the Midnight Readers themselves rented the hall-and has set up exhibits of glass manufactures in Aelbaion. In the hall itself, the dishes and bowls were all made of glass, as were the drinking cups. Much of the glass was green forest glass, but substantial efforts had been made to make clearer products; this was only so-so. What the Aelish had achieved and then set the table with had noticeable yellow or green tints-or the inclusion of a significant amount of lead; this was evidenced in their more advanced products, which were displayed upstairs. King Al, however, remained downstairs for much of the event, but he had quite a presence upstairs. This presence was his son, Price Vespasian.

Vespasian, unlike his father, is an unusually quiet person, walking around with little fanfare. This is not because he lacks prestige; it is because he only deigns to set as much foot in the universe around him as he chooses, and he looks like a blonde cat. He is difficult to pin down on many things, including his gender and pronouns, and today is no exception. Right now, he is fine with acting like a man; he is even more fine with the wine that he is drinking. What he considers finest is the mirror that he is admiring himself in; it is also by far the most expensive piece of fine art in the room. And yet, Vespasian is not being especially vain. The mirror's large size allowed it's ornamentation, which was a show of skill and prestige for the artist.

In the center of the room is a nice big crowd of nobility, members of the Midnight Readers. A few of the regional Trade Lords are also cycling through. Vespasian has already exchanged words with a few of them, although he isn't that eager to talk. That could be interpreted by something like sociability on the part of the Midnight Readers, who have been trying to recruit him since he was first presented to court. To the prince, they are nothing other than supremely annoying, all eagerness without any appreciation for the difficulty of what they are doing, or knowledge of the heft of their actions.

'Your highness.'

Vespasian rolled his eyes in front of everyone. It was Lord Vanquemire De La Sanchois, or as he called himself, Pentalos. He often wore a mask that looked like a pentagram, and thought that he was the best at mathematics-based duels. More infuriatingly, he was able to understand the effort of getting things done-which others didn't.

'Mmr. Pentalos.'

'It is always a pleasure to meet you amongst the curiosities of the world, and the creations of Aelbaion.' Pentalos bowed very carefully. His clothing was liable to catch on surrounding objects. 'Are you enjoying the exhibits?'

'Indeed.' Vespasian tried to sidle past Pentalos and to the main set of attractions. 'They are some of the most unique and masterful crafts of Aelbaion in the past two decades, I believe.'

'Ah, but they pale in comparison to the Diptychs of Manetevi-'

'I cannot see the Diptychs of Manetavi because Manetavi is in seclusion, and I am also only 24. They are only viewable to people who have the age of 27, as you know.'

'I am most aware, your majesty. For now I seek to stoke your curiosity.'

The prince moved to the first table. It had several reading stones on it, with smooth bottoms and clear enough insides. Looking down at them, he could move them over some pieces of very small text; as he did, the text appeared much larger to him. Each stone had been made by a different glassworker, and their marks were present on the side of the stones. Carefully, he turned one over in his hand, looking at it.

'I think I'll be buying one, Pentalos. It will be most convenient. Have you?'

'My order has been placed, and I am waiting to hear from the craftsman in my home duchy. I predict that I will have it in four months.'

Vespasian put the stone down, then looked at the text sample. 'This was made by an engine, Pentalos.'

'Isn't it remarkable?'

'Extremely.' Vespasin put the text sample down in turn. 'We are standing on the precipice of a series of new ages. An age of engines, an age of flight, an age of great production.'

'We will see such miracles, your highness.'

'We shall see them.' The prince sighed, rearranging his hair. 'Whether we like them or not. Pentalos...'

'You should be delighted, your highness!' Pentalos raised his hands. 'Aelbaion-'

'All of these great devices originated from outside the country.' The prince sighed. 'Not-'

'The singing nun has singlehandedly described how the passage of heritable traits move through plants. We manipulate the essence of beer and bread. And everyone uses our weights to trade our wool.' Pentalos had a point. 'It is not so bleak as you sound, your highness.'

Vespasian raised a hand, and then held it for a second, considering. He changed his mind abruptly. 'More wine, if you please.' Pentalos eagerly passed him some. 'Flying machines, Pentalos. Airships. And we...are making dental tools.' A hand, not his, gestured to another table.

'We have pulled more teeth in a year than they do in five in the Harpy lands.' Pentalos used his apprentice's gesture to segway into Aelbaion breaking the Dentists' Curse. (1)

'How do you know that?' Vespasian raised an eyebrow.

'The Midnight Readers are versed in many mysteries of understanding.' Pentalos smiled under the stupid mask. 'I am aware of the GDP of the Empire of Six Cities-'

'What the devils are you talking about?' Vespasian looked confused. 'Stop making up nonsense.'

'Our secrets are not nonsense, your highness.'

Vespasian studied the dental tools. They were light, and made of good steel, with tiny mirrors attached. 'They are. Life is nonsense, Pentalos. Pure nonsense.'

'You, sire, need to go flying again.' Pentalos wasn't taking any of this.

'Perhaps. Water, servant.' He truly did seem dispassionate. 'Say, Pentalos...what's that on the stand over there.' Both of them knew what was on the stand over there.

'These, my lord, are spectacles.'

'I see.' Vespasian really didn't want to. 'Are they made here?'

'They are, my lord. This pair was made in Couroffe itself.'

'Huh.' The Prince looked at the pair of eyeglasses, which were mounted on a stand gilded embroidery. 'They were made while all of that absolute Lady-piss was going on outside.' (2)

'Yes, Prince Vespasian.' Pentalos smiled a little behind the mask as the prince turned away. 'Do try them on.'

Frowning, the prince picked up the glasses. They were heavy, with a wooden frame and especially thick lenses. 'These should improve my vision?'

'Yes, your highness. They improved mine-'

Prince Vespasian picked up the glasses and held them up, slipping them over his face. The world in front of him warped, then twitched-

'Ow.' Wincing, the prince put them down.

'They are powerful, your highness!' Pentalos was clearly grinning.

'Yes. Perhaps too. I may need a lighter pair, if I do.'

'This shall lead to another type of medicine, I am sure of it.' The Midnight Reader rubbed his hands together. Vespasian sighed, carefully readjusting the spectacles after he had put them back. 'Have you heard of the ideas of optometry, sire?'

'Yes. By the Lady, Pentalos, please stop that hand rubbing, you're fucking humiliating yourself.'

'Do I look like the scheming advisor, your highness?'

'Yes. And I am the drunk one, Penty.'

'Do not call me that!' Pentalos looked flustered. 'It is undignified!'

'Fine. Servants, water.' One of the staff brough his majesty a cup of clear water, flavored with lavender. 'Ah-thank you-' Vespasian sipped it. 'Oh. Just flavored. Thank you kindly.' The servant, one braid behind their ear, nodded. 'Pentalos...the consequences of everything...of all this.'

'The costs, your highness?' Pentalos did some more hand rubbing.

'Yes.' Vespasin threw back the water. 'Of making the items, of getting the supplies, of running the shops, and of making the crafters the people they were. This will...if it takes one town for each shop, Pentalos, you must understand...' There was silence as he drank the rest of the water.

'Yes, sire. I understand.' Pentalos stopped rubbing his hand. 'Will you meet with us in the Loft sometime?'

'When you air it out.' Vespasian looked for more water. More was brought. 'That place is stifling.'

Pentalos smiled. 'As your highness wishes. Your father has recently been looking at obtaining an ice engine. And we shall oblige him.'

Vespasian looked modestly surprised. 'You fucker.'

'Yes, your highness?'

'You've intrigued me, and annoyed me. I will arrive when you have that damn engine installed, and not before.' And then Prince Vespasian took his cloak and gave it false swirl-so as not to knock anything over-then strode from the exhibition room.

'Your highness!' Pentalos called after him. 'It doesn't go in the building...'

1. For decades, the Aelish had not ever been able to have a single person set up and run a dental practice for more than five years.

2. He means the ongoing paving projects in the capital.

The secrets of preserving ice have always been known to the Aelish...so much so that they might not as well be secrets. However, their ability to engage in widespread ice storage has been only partial-until very recently. Enough peace, enough agricultural surplus, enough free hands, and enough interest in constructing finer things had been coming together to enable things like sidewalks-so there was plenty of initiative in place for them to pursue other, smaller, but no less technically challenging projects. While the average builder was working on a housing project of some kind, or a rebuilt wall or road-for the rough terrain of Aelbaion would often challenge any engineer, doubly so if it was overgrown with greenery in some capacity-there was still plenty of work to be done on storage applications.

Ice forms naturally in the mountains of Aelbaion, and stays there under similar conditions. Even in the summer, there are little pockets of cold where the ice never melts. Said pockets of cold can be harvested during the summer, and re-seeded in the winter. The right of estover, for a tenant or serf on a lords land to take wood for their needs can sometimes be extended to ice; it is only done for important people, or to specific families, who will hold these rights to take and harvest ice as needed. In later days, the right of ice-taking will be deed out to specific facilities, such as ski lodges. But that is for later. In the meantime, the requirement for the tenant holding estover to renew that which they take is without question. Water is diligently maintained in these places in time for the winter, and not all ice is taken. This maintains much of the original supply of ice.

When it is time for harvest, ice is cut from blocks in the mountain ponds and brought down to specialized storerooms called icehouses. These ice-houses are smaller in size, typically located a ways away from buildings where people live, and are sturdily built with thick walls of stone and minimal windows. They are built out of the way of the sun, with groves of shade trees and obscuring backdrops. Light sources are typically carried in by people using them, as well as plentiful bales of hay. Hay is cheap, widely available insulator, and the Aelish will bring their ice down, place it on racks or shelves, and cover it with hay. This adds weeks of storage time to the ice, at minimum.

Far more helps to keep the temperature down. The first is that the Aelish have independently redeveloped the 'wind catcher', a feature where winds passing by are used to cool down the building. By entering through the top-most funnel and moving through the building, this airflow can be used for significant cooling work. Simultaneously, a stream of some kind-artificial or natural-is typically moving through bottom floor of these structures, taking away heat. While the earliest icehouses were built over streams, and many still are today-the burbling of a brook is a charming feature indeed-it is now possible for watercourses to be hewn from rock by the arrangement of sufficient labor. The broken terrain of Aelbaion can be broken open still further and then rebuilt to carry water. By cooling from the top and the bottom of the house, and blocking all sources of heating from entering it, the Aelish can make the ice house work as a long-term storage of ice itself. The most current versions have the airflow and the 'water line' meet, producing an even more potent cooling effect.

Ice is highly desirable as a product: it is beneficial for cooling-and the purest forms of ice make for excellent beverage refreshments. Making ice from the purest waters provided by the Lady is a sign of immense piety and good use of Her wisdom-and so the Church has been setting up ice caves. No one except for the major lords has the resources to pull this off, and while the great lords of the mountains have access to ice, they are operating on more mundane scales. In these caves, the Church is setting up small tours for buyers, packing whole crates of ice, and cutting multiple channels for waterflows that mesh with the upper airflow. The most beautifully-adorned facilities have turned their waterflows into salsabil-style fountains, which take up little space and demonstrate the skill of the artisans involved. Ice from these caves is taken to the Church's medical facilities, where it is used to help cool down fevers and treat heat illnesses, as well as improve the comfort of those stricken. Nowhere in recorded Aelbic history has this been done at scale, and while the treatment of fevers ice has been a historical practice, the actual costs of using this much ice has never been recorded before. Demand is shooting up.

All told, it looks like Aelbaion will need a lot of ice. Open ears turn to rumors of an ice engine.

After nearly a decade of renovation work on the Royal Palace, the Kingdom of Aelbaion has witnessed the opening of the Royal Gardens. The royal gardens, which are no longer going to be capitalized in this post because repeated capitalization is annoying, originally started out as a place for the royal household to relax while surrounded by flowers and away from the smell of Couroffe. Over a century and a half, they steadily expanded to include trees, water features, orchards, medicinal compounds, and even poisons. The stories that have unfolded from the garden could fill up to ten tomes of lore, and would take four weeks of song to expound; the royal families' baggage is all over the place.

And now it is somewhat open to the public-at least to the locals-and only four days per week-and definitely not on national holidays. Those who live in Couroffe, or those who are stopping by on a visit-and who can manage to make their way up to the palace past the annoyingly dense groups of workers who were bringing stone thither and yon, and then laying it down into well-made roads. Trying to rush paving is a recipe for disaster, and the Crown is not willing to risk annoying, traffic-snarling scandal in it's capital. Even worse, the most important city in Aelbaion having permanent road issues would cause a true hit to the Crown's prestige and it's ability to govern. So the lines of carts remain lines, and the common people all wait in them.

The biggest part of the royal gardens are the nine floral sections, representing three seasons, the Lady, two dead lords with reputations for growing impressive gardens, the Royal Family, Chivalry, and the Great Chalice. These all have a guided tour, where the language of the flowers can be explained to anyone who the tour guides didn't manage to lay hands on yet. After the guided tour, visitors may enjoy sitting by the fountains, or walking through an orchard featuring combinations grafted trees. Special plants are kept safe behind wire-wicker enclosures, and statues are adorned with ivy.

Those who want to glean more from the Kingdom will need to look beyond the exhibits. Prying eyes will probably focus on the extensive medicinal garden, the numerous beehives, the kitchen gardens growing lots of garlic, or the special walled gardens of rare, poisonous plants. Some of these walled gardens are specially designed to release heat throughout the night in the cooler periods; and a large staff is constantly busy tending to the plants. Irrigation has been provided for; and scholars can be seen occasionally answering this or that technical question for the Crown-or doing something private for the monarchy.

For those passing by, the royal gardens are a sign of wealth and power; a beautiful show of opulence that generates prestige. For those vaguely in the know, the garden is a deliberate show of plenty and skill that are the Crown's for their piety and adherence to the Lady's guidelines. And for those In The Know, the royal gardens is a combination of all three, a tasteful display of power. But if you're actually in the know, you'll know that the Garden is a place where the Crown can get some questions answered via a small claque of scholars. Of course, no one finds that interesting enough to mention.

"By far the best way to ensure peace with your neighbors is to make pursuing war far more costly than not. This is, as it turns out, shockingly easy. Good soldiers are major investments - quality armor and weapons, years of training, a large and often meat-heavy diet purely to create the proper physique, and the training or hiring of countless support personnel. What, then, do such fine soldiers do when war comes? They die, often and badly, if not by enemy blades than by camp fever or a dozen other causes. And for what? At best some land, worthless without those to properly work it, and some raw resources. RAW resources - definitionally the least valuable, least useful form! It's only when the foundries and artisans get their paws on them that you actually get something worthwhile, and even then it's scarcely worth wasting fine steel. Only fools and zealots wage war, and yet the majority of other powers regularly cede control to such madmen!"

~ Thoughts On the Generation of Mutual Profit by Pothos, rant continues for several more pages

Deep within the narrow winding stone alleys that form the floor of the High District, a claw rasps gently against a wooden door, rousing Weave-Drinker[1] from her torpor. It was not sleep, not as the soft-bodied races experienced it, and was not strictly necessary (although certainly rejuvenating), but she nonetheless found herself drawing to it more with age. The vibrance and clamor of the city was intriguing, yes, but at a certain point it was also exhausting and, in its own way, predictable. Rising from her chair to get the door, she hoped it would prove a welcome distraction.

Standing outside was one of her bonded Runners, Wax-Wind[2], claws folded adorably behind her back as she almost shook with anticipation, waiting to deliver her message.

"I take it you've learned something of significant interest?" Weave-Drinker buzzed softly.

"Yes, ma'am. There's been some odd activity in the temple district."

"The temple district?" A trill rose from her syrinx unbidden. This would be interesting indeed. "It's been decades since the old priests did anything but bicker. I was worried I'd be dead before anything else approaching that delightful storm god fiasco."

The runner fidgeted a bit uncomfortably. "Er, well, not with the priests exactly, or at least not the old ones..."

"Spit it out then. I won't bite."

"Yes, ma'am! The old Ayethan fox church has had some odd rumors about it for a few months now, and I just got news of why. Jackal still owed me a favor from the wooden spoon thing, and his aunt works at one of the big temples, and she said that they've been expanding a bunch lately and selling more stuff, only churchy stuff because of the laws but way more than usual, and she says a lot of it seems kinda weird or scammy, so then I went to ask some of my regular folks around there and they said a new fox set up shop lately around that area but she won't show her face or paws or anything which means she's probably real distinctive and then I remembered the Ayethans got that one priest from down south with the grey fur, so I'm thinking she's probably in the business now."

As inefficient as it was, there was something to be said for the way mammals had to stop speaking to breathe. Still, that was interesting. Checking it against the last few weeks of reports from her family, that did seem likely, and lot of details had come in before, alone and sufficiently interspersed with other news to conceal their significance. A new broker associated with a church, using it to conceal profits. The fox in question had also apparently formed connections with a courier in the area, which now made much more sense...

The identity of a secretive new member of the business, with potentially severe consequences, synthesized independently of any of the major networks. A decidedly valuable piece of information, if difficult to sell without running afoul of any unwritten rules. Like most industries in Freeport, information brokers were forced to strike a careful balance between vicious competition and looking out for their own. Still, even if it was off-limits for regular clientele, she could think of at least two dozen wealthy customers who would be extremely interested.

"Excellent work. Take two laurels from the chest for your next shopping trip and wait in my quarters. I have a few letters to write."

[1] In Witness-tongue, the full translation would be "she[speaker] who drinks the hidden webs"

[2] "she[runner, bonded] who molds the wax-soft gales"

Schedule Sunday, once more coming to you on a Sunday! (If you live in CST or further west).

During the Schedule Sunday we typically recap moderator announcements, update major events within the shard, set the clock, and assign slots for our weekly event posts.

News

A labelled map of all our seas and geographic regions can be found here

Reminder that NPC claims are open. The way NPCs work is, you can use it as you wish in your own posts, as an ally, an enemy, or a bystander to whatever you're up to. If you want to build a story around a particular trade relationship but haven't gotten it worked out with a player, NPCs are good for that. You just have to be aware that other players might be using the same NPC claim for different reasons, so you can't make really major changes (eg. toppling their government) without mod approval. (Anyone who is inactive for 60 days, and who doesn't respond to the messages from the mod team, will have their claim become an NPC).

Reminder, we have opened up expansions. If you wish to expand your territory, make a post with the [Expansion] flair, indicate the territory you want to expand into, and include a good-quality post explaining the significance of the new land. Expansions are not as formal or as rigidly formatted as claim posts, so your post can focus on the things you feel are most relevant/interesting. Still, mods might ask you to revise your post if we don't feel you've included enough content to accompany the new territory.

Players are allowed one retroactive expansion. That means that you can add in new territory and, after it's approved, we will act as though it was part of your claim all along. Otherwise, you'll need to explain how and why you acquired this new territory now. (If you are making a normal, non-retroactive expansion, you should include a year in your post.)

Players will only be approved for expansion if they have made at least two posts since their claim went up.

IMPORTANT LINKS
Claim Template
Welcome to Ashagon

Ashagon Check-In

Current map

Current Year: 7 CE
(Time usually progresses organically in accordance with player posts. If you have an event happen, you can attach a year to it. The furthest advanced year will become the current year in the next Schedule Sunday post, unless the mods decide someone jumped unreasonably far ahead.)

Ashagon News: The Demani are spreading outside of the forest and finding new ways to make dirt. In Trezera, someone found a lost song but could not hold onto it. The Aelish are up to all kinds of things: Bringing in more blackpowder for sensible uses, putting cheese in caves, and developing a rudimentary understanding of genetics (in song!).

Prompts: Follow the Leader
What's in the Box
An Alate Goes Abroad
Knights Errant

ACTIVE CLAIMS

The Kingdom of Aelbaion ([u/OceansCarraway](u/OceansCarraway))
Audio ([u/BoobooMaster](u/BoobooMaster))
Ayetho ([u/Harfordplanning](u/Harfordplanning))
The Faerie Court of Cwmyteg ([u/JFritz2308](u/JFritz2308))
Dragon Republic of the Gold-and-Green Fields ([u/adminscales1155](u/adminscales1155))
Freeport ([u/goop_lizard](u/goop_lizard))
The Mangroves of the Crones ([u/SPACEMUHRINE](u/SPACEMUHRINE))
Origin and the Xanoi ([u/madicienne](u/madicienne))
Orgraille ([u/Rocket_III](u/Rocket_III))
Star Cities of Paroma ([u/DartMonkey](u/DartMonkey))
Periwald ([u/MapleTopLibrary](u/MapleTopLibrary))
Rexdom of the Saur-kin ([u/gingecharmander](u/gingecharmander))
Rockborn ([u/palmtree219](u/palmtree219))
Kingdom of Sarmeqarki ([u/SgtWolf01](u/SgtWolf01))
Empire of the Six Cities ([u/Northrnr](u/Northrnr))
The Sovereign Corpus of Tarrnakkan Monopols ([u/mauricejc](u/mauricejc))
Trezera ([u/PhoebusLore](u/PhoebusLore))
Tritechniquon ([u/Cereborn](u/Cereborn))
Kingdom of Verdantis ([u/joec533](u/joec533))
The Wuavreni Mercantile League ([u/Soapybint](u/Soapybint))
Wingdom of Cheelia ([u/TinyLittleFlame](u/TinyLittleFlame))
Y Chruine ([u/thefuzzsakenone](u/thefuzzsakenone))

NPC CLAIMS

Cyrenthia
The Steros Archipelago
Tathini River Valley

Weekly Events

MARKET MONDAY
Market Monday is an open interaction post that anyone can join. The host chooses a setting somewhere within their claim. Quite often this is a market/bazaar/merchant harbour, but it can also be a religious or cultural festival, or any other event you can think of that has reason to bring people from around the continent. As host, you should set the scene with a fairly detailed intro post that informs us of how the physical space is set up, what points of interest there are, and what event is happening. You are not required to DM interactions and you’re not obligated to interact with everyone who comes in, but you should have enough ideas that players have something to dig into and develop their own stories.

Most recent:
Monday, August 10th (unassigned)
Monday, August 17th (unassigned)
Monday, August 24th (unassigned)
Monday, August 31st (unassigned)

TECHNOLOGY TUESDAY
This post is, as you might expect, focused on technology. For this shard, the TT post will be able to cover both conventional technology and specialized Ana-Tech. That doesn’t mean that you need a Tech Tuesday slot to write about your technology. There is a “Technology” flair and you’re welcome to apply it to a lore post at any time. Tech Tuesday is intended for significant inventions that have the potential to change things across Ashagon (provided you’re willing to share). We also expect Tech Tuesdays to keep a certain standard of thought and detail. (Anyone requesting a TT slot will need to let the mods know a general outline of what technology they will be introducing.)

Most recent posts: The Forest Meets the Hills
Scientific Singing Nuns
Tuesday, August 11th (unassigned)
Tuesday, August 18th (unassigned)
Tuesday, August 25th (unassigned)
Tuesday, September 1st (unassigned)

THAUMATURGY THURSDAY
This is similar to Tech Tuesday, but it is for significant creations of a magical nature. Anyone wishing to introduce a Faded Wonder not included in their claim will need to book a Thaumaturgy Thursday slot. It can also be used for interesting applications of Faded Wonders you’ve already introduced. You can use one to talk about magic apart from Faded Wonders, but since this is a Low-Power shard, it will be more about complexity and interesting applications rather than showing off something shiny and explosive. (Again, you will just need to give the mods a short description of the idea when you book a slot.)

Most recent posts:

Thursday, August 13th (unassigned)
Thursday, August 20th (unassigned)
Thursday, August 27th (unassigned)
Thursday, September 3rd (unassigned)

FEATURE FRIDAY
This is our oldest weekly event post. This one has no particular rules around content. You can write it about anything you want as long as it displays more thought, care, and detail than a typical post. People have written about major historical events, the culminations of wars or revolutions, conlangs, pottery, music, art, or introduced fascinating narratives. The FF post will be stickied at the top of the front page for the following week.

Friday, August 14th (unassigned)
Friday, August 21st (unassigned)
Friday, August 28th (unassigned)
Friday, September 4th (unassigned)

King Aeldebaric and Queen Ethellebelle were taking a breather. They had spent all day playing tennis, and earlier they had spent most of the evening trying to figure out how to set up a travelling chess set that came in five pieces; this had ended in failure and lot of a laughter. They'd been surrounded by courtiers all day, and now they were retiring for the night. His Majesty had gone hunting a week ago, and many of the nobles had stuck around, enjoying his company. This had left the two precious little time to each other, and they'd been spending most of it blowing off steam and reinvigorating their relationship. Rulership took it's toll in the hardest of ways, and made people strangers to others and their closest loved ones.

It also gave them plenty to talk about.

"So, my dear. You've been continuing your father's legacy, it seems." The Queen was very studiously stretching before bed.

The King sat, rubbing his lower back. "I wish you wouldn't open conversations like this."

"I'm sorry. I find it fitting."

"It feels like you're taking a dig at me for how I exhibit rulership."

"What do you want, then?"

"Advice." He started off into the middle distance. "Just...advice...like he would have given me."

"I can't do that." The Queen tried to sound contrite. "But I can advise you how I would advise you."

"You're so aware of your limits." His majesty was completing wrist exercises. "I wish I was the same."

"I wish others respect your limits more." The Queen did have encouragement for him. "You would work yourself past any reasonable limit for the Kingdom, and then some."

"The world will not respect my limits." Aeldebaric stood, touched his toes, sat again. "So I will have to surpass them from time to time. The other side to that coin is that I do not respect it's limits, either."

"Is that why you're so intent on bringing blackpowder to Aelbaion?"

"Lady, no." His Majesty sighed. "I am intent on it because it will change the world, whether I want it to or not. So we might as well be the ones changing it."

"Well, that is a very fair answer to hear." Ethellebelle was putting her hair up once more, making sure it stayed in place. "It's much less worrying than what others might say."

"Kings are weird creatures, aren't we?"

"Yes. Extremely prone to bloviation, I do say."

"Oh, you're a lawyer-" His tone was teasing, and he smiled.

"I have taste." She faked a bit of annoyance. "And I have not been called to the bar. So I am legally trained, but not a lawyer."

"You're a lawyer to me." He was firm. "And I trust your acumen in it's entirety."

"You're a better judge of character than I am." She tried to change the subject. "Don't get around this with praise. Judge yourself."

"I am a middle aged king who is mostly satisfied with how his life has been going so far. I am scared of the consequences of my actions, and I am scared of my accomplishments being undone. I am afraid of my nobility, for they do not like having their power curbed, or thinking that they have it curbed. I worry about my son. I worry about my wife's death. I want to be done with it all. I know that when I act, things happen. I know that I have to make decisions that hurt others because I am a King, and I need to keep the entire edifice up, or else there will be a perilous fall."

Her Majesty regarded her husband for quite some time. "You judge yourself...fairly well. But you left out your luck, and your supporters."

"That's the blessing of the Lady, Belle. And I am trying to judge myself."

"I judge a man by the company he keeps. And your company...I did not think you would keep it so much when you came to the throne, but you did."

"It is because I am pious." He sighed. "I will pray when I wake, when I sleep. I will commission more churches and annexes and outbuildings than my father did before I die. I will keep Her tenets. I will plant a hundred acre woods. That will make the peasants love me, and the Church call me a great man, and the city folk not worry too much. They...they care about that kind of thing. They all gossip about us."

"You also use your piety and chivalry to bash the nobles over the head." She had a good retort. "And so far it's worked."

"I have been right, and I have followed your advice to yell loudly."

"That you have."

"Do you think it worked?"

"Oh, absolutely."

He finished stretching, sighed heavily, and clapped his hands. In moved servants, bringing bedtime tea. The royal couple had decamped to a private estate, one of a few that the Crown had deeper in the Kingdom for personal use. "Do you think this little venture is working? You've finally had time to conduct a thorough inspection of the books and the works. Have you been able to tell where the lost money is going?"

"It's going to making blackpowder weaponry." Ethellebelle spoke archly, with an undertone suggesting the obvious. "This is not easy to do. We are learning how to make powder as a people, and those learning how to make powder are learning how to make it as a team. We are likewise learning how to make the fire-tubes. This is for devices closed at one end that do not move. We are learning how to make rockets, and fire arrows, and color their emissions. This is not cheap, and cannot be." She said this with clear intent for the servants to hear.

"I believe you." The King looked wearied. He'd had a long day. "It is just irksome, you know. Vaneric achieved so much, it seemed, with so little effort."

"That is because he was focused on exactly what he wanted." The Queen was helped to change into her bed linens. "And you are less so. Perhaps it is because you want greater things. What your father did was simple: he learned of the bomb and the grenade. He found out how one might set up grenadiers on foot and on horseback. His scholars learned how to make small amounts of powder, and to cast iron shells. They taught these techniques to gallant men who were unafraid of being blown up; at the same time, he made sure that the foe were afraid of being blown up. He made bomb-throwers, and used them on several weaker forts-as examples. Everyone knew of his mastery of this foreign knowledge."

"Foreign knowledge." The King grunted. "Not of the Aelish, or of the Lady."

"Yes, darling. Foreign. But that only means that we must learn it ourselves before we use it. Then we can use it without issue."

"If you think that we are spending our coin in such a way that this is a learning process, I will accept it. But I will ask for you to explain why, and to also tell me what you think of the works."

Queen Ethellebelle stopped and thought for a moment-but only a moment. "Your father understood how men must use this artifice and how to use these men before he understood the artifice itself. He likely used the men better than the engines. By doing so, he avoided his weakness-and he trained his men. You are training different people, you are getting craftsmen familiar with this artifice. They are different than soldiers, they have opinions and are less disciplined-"

"They are men of the town, women of the city." The King nodded, understanding. "So I am training a city, and a town, instead of an army?"

"That is correct."

"Damn. That is always complicated. Shall we get into bed?"

"Finish your tea, dear."

"Ah, yes. Thank you." He drank. "So I am teaching a town about how to make hand-guns, and then having them build bigger and better engines. You had a look at the works, did you not?"

"I did. I think that the roads need to be rebuilt, twenty more sheds need to be erected, tool purchases need to be finished, 56 chests need to be bought, 5 more carpenters hired in-the usual. The charcoal works is fine, the sulfur purchasing needs to be sorted out, and the saltpeter works needs to be started on. The docks must be repaired, and the iron shipment is findable in the forest if they cut down all the trees. Oh, and they need a new barracks, and some drains. And to form their own band so that no one who is bad at music sings."

"Then we shall do that." The King drained his tea with a long gulp. "My inspection brought me to the same conclusion. How is the forge?"

"Adequate and cramped." She shrugged. "It is working for the production of hand-guns. It should be turned into a much larger workshop after you fix everything else there. The site was only chosen for the easy availability of a test firing range."

"Eh. It's probably kept some fingers on."

"That it has. But we are going to run the risk of a cholera outbreak if we don't fix it up."

"Damn. I'll hire in the contractors, then."

"The money will be well spent. But I have another recommendation for you to consider."

"Do go ahead." He had given the teacup back to the servants and was stepping into bed. "Your wisdom supersedes mine."

Another eye roll greeted that declaration. "Teach blackpowder to the town and the city for other reasons. Employ it for blasting away rock and earth in mines. Give them beautiful light shows with rockets. Both will be well received, and they'll learn on their own."

The King sprang right back up. "That's excellent! Oh, Belle, you are superb!"

She smiled, fully. "I try. Now, your royal highness...if I may make one request?"

"Please do."

"I would like a hand-gun."

He took her hand and kissed it. "As her highness wishes."

The nature of the geography in the land of Aelbaion has necessitated that the bulk of Aelbic calories in the countryside come from taking care of herds of animals. The bulk of these are goats and sheep, the former capable of living on anything, and the latter producing fine wool for clothing. Most of the ranching and herding done here is at the level of the village; the Dukes and Counts typically are the independent lage producers of animals and animal products. Economies of scale are only so realizable when those economizing are more interested in killing and raiding their neighbors than the logistics of a cattle drive, and the Horse Lords, as a group of people, have suffered from an almost social underdevelopment that has not truly been challenged until the start of Vanerics' peace.

The halting of raids was extremely beneficial for the population of goats, which quickly took over the country. This in turn was beneficial for the population of larger predators, which thankfully relieved the peasantry of the specter of goats destroying the local ecosystem. With the rising tide of religious certainty and legal change that had washed over the land, pasturing greatly improved and reasonable land use practices became ubiquitous. Goats were once a household herdnig animal, but in some places began to be scaled to village-sized herds, giving the peasantry more economic power and security. This was not something that the lords would take lying down, but they had much bigger worries: an increase in the Crown's power and the constant need to keep an eye on their neighbors just in case they're preparing for war is a big distraction from oppressing the peasantry.

But the peasantry are just like their goats. The Aelish goats have one thing going for them, and that is their abiltiy to survive in ultra broken, highly rocky terrain by climbing anywhere and eating anything. These goats can be regarded as semi-domesticated; they tpically wander around all day and come back home at night. Home used to be a small crevice or crag, now it is a sheltered pasture or a barn. Sometimes, they can be lured in more quickly by a pot of boiling vegetables. If a peasant has a shortbow and a good shooting spot, they can quickly bag a predator that might be drawn to ambush their returning animals. Once it is night time, the goats can be readily milked, and this milk drank fresh from the goat or turned into cheese.

Making cheese has become one of the most common means of Aelish food preservation-at least by individual practitioner. Pretty much anyone can lay their hands on some milk, prepare it, and lay it away. Some cheeses last longer than others; and these can go into storage for a long time-and sometimes become more enjoyable dishes themseles. The most common kind of storage is a cheese cave, and while these store mostly hard cheeses, the boom in cheesemaking has opened up culinary options and calories for the majority of the country that haven't truly been practiced on a mass scale before. Most cheese is 'cottage cheese' and taken by the worker on the go; herbs are often added for flavor. Cheese from cheese caves can be taken out and even shipped, and across the country there is a nascent market for cheese. Flavor swaps typically happen on foot, however, as herdsfolk exchange foods and cheese.

Despite the Aelbic passion for fashion, large-scale ranching for wool is only so developed. This is due to the semi-rarity of ready forage; despite the length and breadth of the lands of many lords and the size of their pasture, the south of the country is not hospitable to industrial animal raising. Land use policies have ameliorated the effects of these inherently challenging conditions somewhat; the widespread adoption of water-meadows and water storage has expanded areas of available pasture. The decrease in disease spread and the improvent in water availability have made sheep able to tolerate living across much more of the land. This has made some of the numbers line up, and it has also made it possible to make a lot more money off of sheep farming.

But to make money, you gotta spend money. Sheep made wool, and eventually this wool needed to come off during shearing time. To this end, the first sheep safety sheds, which were places where herds would be safely kept while the animals were being sheared. These sheds would be busy in the springtime, then shuttered when not needed. The raw wool would be stored until it could be picked up for cleaning and carding, which were the first labor intensive steps to getting workable thread. All of these had a network of dirt roads around them, which would disintegrate into mud during the spring. Even as it's sheep herding began to get organized under the banner of counts and lesser nobles, the country ran into the problems of logistics that would plague any industrialist. We will return to these shearing operations later.

There is one more star of Aelbic pastures: the cow. There are many breeds, but they are often divided into two categories: 'peasant cows', which have a lower center of gravity and prefer eating weeds, and 'noble cows', which are taller and prefer grains. The former can survive on substandard fare but do not really appeal to the eye, while the latter look majestic but can die of mold poionining in an afternoon if unlucky. Obviously, the former exist in much greater numbers, despite the annoyance that occurrs when the cattle need to empty their guts of something toxic but cannot vomit. Yes, these cattle get explosive diarrahea. But this is not solely why cattle herding is limited. Cows usually only provide milk on a regular basis, and the current limitations of fields down south cannot support massive herds of cattle. Beef remains extremely expensive, a food for lords or for those who personally own cattle to eat.

On top of this, the meat taken from an animal has to be preserved. While the Aelish were fine assembling slaughtering blocks earlier, those lords who kept herds of beef for profit would soon find that they needed to go further. A freshly slaughtered animal has to be properly butchered, taken for cuts of meat and organs, harvested for everything that humans can eat. In the middle ages, one can afford to waste nothing. This is the duty of the slaughterhouse, the unpalatable back-end to every boucherie and meat hall. After every cut of the throat, the butchers' staff get to work, taking everything that they can from the animal. Waste of one animal will mean that another one has to be killed, and that's a waste of a life. So the slaugterhouse stays busy. Bones are removed, sometimes dried for use as a material, otherwise ground up for fertilizer. Cartilege is taken for similar use, and organs are either turned into food or taken for alchemical components. Connective tissue is also taken for making glue, vital for binding together everything from books to bows. Fat is taken and rendered down into everything from ink components to fuels. Blood is likewise saved for fertilizer. Horns, the rarest part of the animal, are saved with significant effort and then sold to someone who can use them. Without access to petrochemicals to make polymers that can form long, stretchy materials, the Aelish must use aninals to 'make' the closest equivalents with their bodies; they cannot lose anything for lack of effort.

The traditional way to preserve meat is smoking. Trees are close by, and the oceans are far away. Bringing salt up to the south would not be easy. So far, there have been no big salt sources found in the hills, so mining will not provide much. Some salt comes up from the coast, but the Aelish will swear by the superiority of smoked beef, mutton, and lamb. They will hold great and fervent disputes, however, over how it should be smoked, the time and the species of the tree used; they will set aside wood specifically for these purposes and preserve it, they will spare no expense to build great smokers for all of their meat. As the peace came, the smokers only got bigger and better, a rare spot of full performance.

Fashion also requires leather in endless quantities and superb quality. The Aelish do not skimp here, either. Leather-particularly from 'noble cows'-is taken from the animal immediately after slaughter, then brought to the tannery drying racks as soon as possible. The best reagents and the most superb of tools are placed here; and unlike the other operations, which are seasonal, the leatherworks operate year round. Deep in the hinterlands, one will suddenly find bustling villages centered around a large compound with multiple buildings devoted solely to producing fine leather and leather clothing. These outposts of skill and artistic merit are rare drivers of development and wealth generation in otherwise dead-end places, and they are often centers of cattle deposition during the spring and summertime. In the fall, the finest cuts of leather and the best clothing go down the center of the country while the roads aren't washed out, to be paid for by wealthy lords and their tailors. With peace, ever more leather has been made, and ever more cattle have been dropped off, and the cycle repeats.

Some of the wealth and skill of the rest of the parts of the country have leaked into the south. This has been carried along the cattle drive, which has been the principle artery of wealth movement from south to everywhere else. The transit of cattle is an outlay of wealth from one area to another, and gains returns in capital and skilled labor. Depots of grain and hay can be drawn on, and after the cities in the Crownlands or the hungry mouths of the Trade Lords' market-bastions, the drives will end up in the villages before Freeport. The Horse-Lords of the south, as they often boast, feed the best people in the Kingdom and clothe all the rest; in return they get gold and a small flow of experts and knowledge. For example, Pipette-men are messing around with using the bacteria in the cheese to make better yogurts-but fermentation of dairy is still a touch and go effort at this point in time. Culinary breakthroughs are on the horizon, however. The Horse-Lords are enjoying their peace, no matter what they might say, and they are finding plenty of things to get occupied with. Right now, one of those things is enjoying prosperity.

The people of Aelbaion are known for their expression of artistic traditions in garb, not in writing or song. However, if someone is bored enough in any set of circumstances, they can easily be driven to break an artistic mold-or start up a new one entirely. Mme. Florence d'Elfantine, a woman pressured into taking cloistered orders at age 15 under fairly dubious circumstances, is one of those people. Her last name was changed to that of a cloistered order, the Fantine House, located up in the foothills of Aelbaion. It was here that she was initially devoted to a life of prayer and stonecarving. This was extremely boring, especially for a young girl growing up. While other members of the order made do by kissing lonely goatherds high up on the hills, Florence was stuck in the kitchen garden weeding and managing compost heaps.

But Florence was smart, and when smart people get bored, tbey usually try to bust that boredom by coming up with creative entertainment. Like any young lady with an echoing room, she tried singing, and she liked it. More importantly, it helped her remember things, like what state of growth vegetables were in so that she could apply the correct stages of care. It also really helped to keep her from going crazy when teasing apart peas that were coming off a trellis.

Anyone who studied genetics even glancingly can tell where we are going here.

Florence kept a careful eye on the thing she was growing, because she was going to be eating them. As she did, she noticed that a number of things about the pea plants occurred whenever they were crossed, or bred together, things that were related to traits. She was able to notice this because plants were grown in semi-isolated clusters and often required hand pollination, which she performed between these groups to prevent inbreeding. When plans were 'bred to the stables', they had certain traits remain preserved. When 'let out to stud', some traits would be spread, but only under certain circumstances.

All of these traits being spread or not spread lead to Florence recognizing that there was something doing the spreading: a genetic material. She wasn't able to use those words, instead developing term 'ledger of allegations'. In Aelish, this is 'ledger' d'allegationes', which was shortened to 'allegele'. Stablehands would later short it to 'allele'. Genetic traits are attached to alleles on Earth, too. Funny how that works out!

After she'd gotten some practice moving alleles around, Florence realized that there was absolutely a pattern that she could observe and quantify. She didn't really have the capability to take detailed notes, since supplies of paper were reserved for the copyists. Carving her observations into rock was a bit too much for a scrawny teen, and she couldn't make parchment, so she committed her observations to memory in the form of a song. By now, she was becoming ok at songwriting and coming up with jingles. Florence developed a catchy ditty called

'Florence's Flower Facts'.

Fact One: some alleles are noble, and some are common. Noble alleles will over-rule common all-ledgers. This is the Fact of Class, which we know as Mendel's Law of Dominance and Uniformity.

Fact Two: separation will occur during breeding and fertilization. The alleles for each gene will separate from each other, so that each gamete carries only one trait. This is the Fact of Ferrying, which we know as Mendel's Law of Segregation.

Fact Three: separation will occurr independently. Alleles containing the stuff of traits will separate independently when forming the gamete. This is the Fact of Splitting, which we know as Mendel's Law of Independent Assortment.

However, Florence recognized that her Facts were nothing more than a series of very insisted upon observations. They were not backed up by an actual theoretical framework, and while she had an idea of 'stuff moving around inside the plant while the seed was formed', there had to be some logic to the ledgers moving around. One couldn't just claim that miniature accountants did all the work, although that was a fine explanation for many servants of the Lady. Instead, she had to posit some rules for the ledgers. This is where thinking about the component parts of the ledgers was pretty helpful for her. Plants contained books illustrating how life was supposed to unfold.

Even looking from the outside, Florence was able to come up with five rough rules.

1. Ledgers outcomes are always defined. Traits following her rules will not be have a blending of things, they will always be either one thing or the other.

(Characteristics are always unitary.)

1. Ledgers have alternate forms of outcomes, and these ledger entries come from the parents.

(Genetic characters have two different forms, inherited from the parents.)

1. One ledger will always win out over the other in it's nobility.

(One gene is dominant, and expressed. One gene is recessive, and not expressed.)

1. Ledgers are recorded with the individual entries of the parents.

(Gametes are created by random segregation. Heterozygotes will have gametes with an equal frequency of alleles.)

1. Different topics of the ledgers are differently assigned.

(Genes are unlinked.)

All of this lyrical virtuosity Florence put to rhythm, then rhyme in a ditty called 'Laws of the Ledgers'. It was infuriatingly catchy, and it was best sung fairly loudly. She was fairly quick to start work on the heterozygote issue, and got fairly close to solving it by the time that she faced consequences of her accomplishments. For all of her skill at communicating her discoveries and recording them memorably, Florence had one fatal flaw. She was an alto. An *untrained* alto.

So obvious was her zeal and understanding of the wisdom that the Lady had bestowed on her througb toil in the garden, the cloistered group said, was that Florence qualified for Maidenhood. Everyone at the cloister knew how to breed plants for various traits that applied to her Facts. Now it was time to spread this knowledge to the world. With a letter in her bag, and a large L on her forehead, Florence was given back her last name-D'Ambechon-and virutally kicked out of the cloister.

It was time to take her songs to the world.

As all folk know, magic, once the heart of economics the world over, has faded. While still wide-ranging in its uses, its power fades and the great Works of ancient times are rare or crumbling. Fewer people now study its practice and ways than in bygone days.

The magic of Trezera was once tied inextricably with music. High songs could be accessed freely by anyone who could whistle, providing magic of transportation, of wards and enchantments, of knowledge and history, and of engineering and war. The songs were maintained by the magic in the very air, and needed no physical anchor. Sounds shaped the sky islands of the harpies, with a symphony of harmonics crafting physical illusions and records of exacting detail.

With the fading of magic, these High songs were lost. It is said that they were recorded on the wind, and the wind no longer carries them. Thousands of years of history and knowledge and great culture, all gone.

...

Emplio soared among the floating arches of Siruela, marveling at the strange architecture of a bygone era. They were of stone, and completely round like platters with a space in the middle left empty. Emplio joyed in flittering in and out of the holes and around the arches, pretending each circle was a portal that took her farther back in time.

Siruela, like many of the skylands, was isolated and desolate, too distant for a harpy to visit unaided, and largely empty of civilization or resources. The Eldest said there had been a tribe of harpies here once, over five hundred years ago, but they were gone now. Perhaps the secret of the arches had been lost with them. Even the Eldest couldn't remember what these arches were for, though he said that sphinxes had built them in the Age of Legends.

It was only in the past couple of decades that the air ships of Trezera had been able to make the long journey northwest, towards the lands of the demons and the profitable trade they held, that a new settlement had been founded on these barren rocks. Part demani and part harpy, the settlement was partially terraformed with trees, though the strange blocks the demons liked to use for construction seemed unable to get a strong hold on the soil here. Too much salt, Emplio had heard, though how that mattered she didn't understand.

As Emplio soared among the floating circles, some pattern seemed to nag at the back of her mind. There was a rhythm to the structures, like a sphere of circles, but it was interrupted in places, even broken. Thinking of the clockwork mechanisms she'd last seen in the market, Emplio wondered if that was the secret - some great clockwork mechanism that had not been wound in thousands and thousands of years.

Most of the others avoided the ruins. There were strange whispers, they said. The demani, normally so stoic, flatly refused to approach, claiming the air was 'dead'. Emplio wasn't sure what that meant. To her, the ruins were alive with mystery and history, currents of air and powerful thermals lifting her ever higher into the sky.

Soon she was higher than the clouds, high enough for the air to thin. The skylands up here were rhymed with icicles and gold lichen. Still Emplio kept her wings taut, floating on the rising air, happy to explore.

She ran into something and had to flap sharply, then ran into it again. At first, she thought that she'd just not seen a tiny skyland, but this felt bigger, and she still couldn't see it. Bruised but curious, she allowed herself to be carried a bit higher, and again, more softly this time, bumped into something invisible but solid as stone.

Emplio swooped in slow curves, keen eyes seeking. There were tell-tale signs of the structure, if she looked hard enough. Little specks of dust and gold lichen hanging in mid air, a curve of cloud, and the shape of the wind all giving clues to something there. While trying to circle the thing in the air, figuring out exactly how large it was, Emplio found a hole.

It was just large enough to swoop inside the empty, dark space. "Hello?" She called hesitantly. She didn't really expect an answer, and was somewhat surprised to see one. With the sound of her voice, a dozen lights in a complex pattern flickered into being around the cavern, like bright orange stars ordered into neat swirls similar to some sigil-work.

It seemed to be a perfect sphere, roughly thirty wingspans in radius, and all of stone inside. The glowing bits seemed to be some kind of crystal, perhaps quartz, that hummed with quiet intensity.

Emplio could see a small platform with the new light and hopped towards it cautiously. She shivered, and not just from the chill of the high, cold air. There was a feeling of ages lost here. She should find someone, tell someone, but for now it was her discovery, and hers alone.

Stepping up onto the platform, she noted its couchant apparatus, and the size and position of handles. Whatever this was, it seemed to have been designed with harpies in mind. Hesitantly she settled herself, hanging comfortably from the cage, before placing her foot-hands on the handles below.

With a great grinding of stone, a large opening appeared below her. In a helix column below her she could see the circles of stones, and this structure directly above all of them. From this vantage the strange gaps and stumbles to the pattern seemed even more clear.

What's more, the stone circles seemed to respond to her control of the handles. They tilted and swayed in the sky as she tilted and swayed the apparatus. It took her some fiddling, but at last she puzzled out how to get the stone circles into the pattern that she assumed they must have been designed for.

When she was finished, six lines of stone circles draped below her like a bead-string doorway, humming with some strange energy. A harp, it seemed to her, with the stones marking the limits of the strings.

She stroked the apparatus as she would a harp, and from below a great, powerful sound seemed to fill the sky. Colors and shapes overwhelmed her mind.

Emplio imagined that this could be some part of the Lost Songs, for out of the void she heard music, an invisible chorus in a language that mayhaps had not been spoken in thousands of years. Enraptured, Emplio hung in silent wonder.

But even as she thought this, the music faded. She waited for it to begin again, but it was gone. All that remained was a memory of a sound and voices that Emplio thought she might attempt to copy, but could never fully recreate with her own voice.

Leaving back the way she had come, Emplio now saw that the formerly invisible structure now hung like a perfectly round eye, a bead in the curtains of the other circles. With strange finality, the structure began to fall from the sky, at first slowly, but gathering momentum.

Emplio gasped as the structure seemed to careen straight for Siruela, and then plummet further down, down to the shimmering sea far below. Before it reached the ground it had broken apart in flaming fragments like falling stars, raining destruction on the surface.

Another part of the Lost Songs.

As is only inevitable for a state of its age and economic status, Freeport has had many currencies throughout the ages. While tracking down each and every piece minted from the days of the founding is beyond even the most committed numismatists, and indeed many have tried, from these scattered coinages a number of distinct patterns and eras have emerged, which may be considered as the stages leading to the current system of currencies.

Antiquity

The oldest coins, found nowadays exclusively in cabinets of curiosities and occasional ruins lost beneath the mud, are curious in their construction. While possessing no special properties inherent to them, being made from an alloy of gold, silver, and copper, the potency of ancient magics (or at least equipment made using them) is obvious in their construction - the best-preserved specimens show a fineness and precision to their features which is difficult to achieve even today, while their alloy composition is remarkably consistent and precise, to the point where several such coins have been destroyed by assay-houses as an expensive but reliable way of calibrating their methods.

While markings from this era vary widely, and modern scholars say some such specimens predate the City's founding, by far the most common specific coin (and the oldest widely agreed to be a product of Freeport) is known as the Candle for its markings, the original name having been lost. On one side, as the name would suggest, is a lit candle, while the other bears a balance scale weighing a pile of powder or other conical object against a spiral object believed, from its appearance in other carvings of the era, to be derived from a shepherd's crook, with the images on both sides growing increasing stylized in later specimens. While the crook is known to symbolize death or sudden change, the meanings of the other elements are unknown.

Several coins produced in simpler or less precise alloys, and with progressively cruder designs, are also known, but with little consistency. As magic, and/or residual equipment depending on the exact order of events, declined, creating replacement currency which would be as widely accepted became a struggle. This long transitional era also saw extensive recasting of ancient coinage, a significant influx of foreign currencies, and several debasement crises. This was also an era of unstable and inconsistent governance, ended by the creation of the Steering Council and, a short time later, Merchant Association roughly eight centuries ago.

The Gold Era

The first, and by far longest-lasting, centralized currency adopted by Freeport was the Gold Laurel. A relatively small coin with a laurel branch on one side and a stylized laurel flower on the other, it was a relatively small coin useful for day-to-day transactions with iconography chosen to be visually pleasant without being tied to any particular political faction, movement, or popular deity, the laurel itself having only been introduced to the island a few decades prior. This choice of a symbol without prior association proved highly impactful, with the stylized pentagonal flower becoming a predominant symbol of money and wealth, to the point where even today a pentagon is used to denote the basic unit of currency in ledgers.

While the gold laurel proved extremely durable, larger denominations used for significant transactions changed much more often and were more prone to scandals, especially since, while city law strictly forbade the production of laurels and their equivalents by any other than the official mint, the creation of coins, tokens, and bars denoting larger amounts of currency could not be effectively restricted, as during the previous currency crises several major companies had adopted their own internal units of gold and silver to protect themselves from debasement and maintain consistent internal accounts. For this reason, along with large denominations being both more attractive for fraud and less common and therefore more easily replaced, during this long era there were multiple denominations, produced at different times by both private trading companies and the Freeport Minting Association, worth 2, 3, 5, 6, 8, 10, 12, 16, 18, 20, 25, 30, 32, 50, 60, 64, 100, 128, 144, and in at least one case 500 laurels. As those numbers suggest, there was significant division at the time between denominating currency in multiples and clean fractions of 10 (favored by several major trading companies), 6 (favored by local manufactories and artisans), and powers of two (favored by the reformist movement which held control of the Steering Council at the time).

This is also the era in which bars, previously only used internally by major trading companies, came to be used as a standard form of currency for large denominations. Long and thin in shape, with a small hole at one end for a string, most would describe them as strips rather than conventional ingots, but they allow larger quantities of metal to be packed tightly and, with easily measured dimensions, they proved extremely quick to de-facto standardize. The few largest merchant associations quickly settled on a standard thickness and width, and small jigs to measure length (and, accordingly, value) swiftly emerged, with bars not fitting the standard sizes trading at a steep enough discount it was often cheaper to have them recast than actually spend them.

In time, however, as the economy of both Freeport and the world expanded and the domestic mines were exhausted, the supply of gold became a serious constraint. While ordnances and coordinated action by the Council and Association were able to prevent the destructive hoarding of wealth which normally defines such scenarios, a breaking point was reached roughly three centuries ago when a severe outbreak of typhus caused a steep reduction in trade and the evacuation of many wealthy merchants, cutting off the imports of gold that had sustained supplies while also physically removing large quantities. The situation was especially severe among the lower classes, as the gold laurel became too valuable to be practical for day-to-day use and a number of informal "barter standards" took hold. By the time the outbreak was dealt with a few years later it was too late for the currency crisis, and as emergency measures were slowly lifted the need for a new currency made from more readily available metals came to the forefront.

The Silver Era

The switch to silver happened rapidly, at least for ordinary transactions, as the supplies of gold were tight enough that the poorer citizens who did have gold coins certainly weren't going to spend them. The silver laurel, larger and thicker than its gold predecessor to maintain a useful value but still relatively small, would form the new basis of the monetary system, with the coins sitting above it also given a standardized form. A step above the laurel was to sit the crown, a symbol which had become a relatively neutral signifier of authority without much real-world political implication after countless centuries without any form of nobility. Much like the laurel flower before it, although to a much lesser extent, this would lead to the crown becoming commonly seen a symbol of wealth in addition to, and sometimes in place of, hereditary rule, leading to both bewilderment by citizens of monarchies seeing the signs of Freeport's various markets and several minor diplomatic incidents involving young and inexperienced Freeport merchants under the impression that a king is broadly equivalent to the wealthiest and most powerful trading companies.

Even with silver forming the basis for day-to-day currency, it was known that gold supplies would return to a semblance of normalcy, and that many foreign merchants preferred or even exclusively carried gold, and so as a compromise the largest denomination would be struck from the metal, with no fixed rate of exchange. Indeed, to this day, no official government offices will exchange gold for silver, with the risks of such activity being foisted entirely onto private money-changers. This coin, the sovereign, bears on one side the image of a scale weighing a scroll against a sword, and on the other a five-fold spiral pattern meant to evoke both the now-venerable laurel flower and the geometric patterns common in Witness face-paint.

Modern Era

While the currencies mentioned above remain dominant for trade within the city, the last several decades have seen substantial advancement in both the ways they're used and the ways outside traders interact with them.

On the former front, the excessive bulk of metal coinage for large deposits has often led to in-kind payments (typically rare dyes, fabrica, or important spices due to their high value-to-weight ratio and relative fungibility) being used for the largest trades, but with recent advancements allowing a low-power working to be imbued into a slip of paper in such a way that it's method of creation cannot be determined from the distinctive signature (at least not without what the foremost scholars assure would be several decades of calculations), and which can be readily applied at scale due to having no significant effect other than it's distinctive signature, magically-assured paper deposit slips issued by prominent vaults have become the dominant method. While still out of reach of the lowest classes, a modified version of the this technique instead imbues the magic into the plates of a printing press (of the ordinary style - not one of the rare imported movable-type contraptions) while still leaving a distinctive, if somewhat less complex, imprint has reduced the fees for such services to the point where middle-class customers have begun requesting several such slips at a time in standardized denominations to ease the burden of carrying their shopping budgets.

On the latter side, an unusual system has developed for ship captains seeking to buy and sell common, relatively fungible goods as quickly and easily as possible in the form of "ledger-market houses" which double as warehouses and trading posts. If one is carrying any of the myriad bulk goods that flow through Freeport with a significant enough frequency, they can unload into such a facility and, after a brief inspection, receive credit in the house's ledgers without bothering to line up a particular buyer. From there they may "cash out," as it were, and leave with a hold full of gold and silver, or as is more often the case spend this credit on new goods from the same or (after carrying over the proper documents) any of the other such houses that line the port. This has vastly reduced the time needed for trade, to the point where stays in the city are often determined by the need for shore leave in such a vibrant city to maintain morale rather than the time needed to negotiate trades, which has in turn led to trading companies with multiple ships shuffling crews between them on a staggered schedule - each ship dropping off its crew and leaving with a new one while they wait to be picked up a few days to weeks later, dependent on the length of the preceding journey. There has also been a growing phenomena of speculators utilizing the houses without ever crewing a ship, using their own warehouses to bet against changes in price, and a few of the more enterprising ledger-market houses have even begun offering contracts for fixed quantities of these goods at a future date, securing guaranteed returns for themselves while allowing others to gamble on fluctuations in price.

After a seemingly terse negotiation the prior year, it had come to pass that a group of Alates were successful in founding a new Cluster within the southerly highlands of Aelbaion, with the blessing of a local ducal lord no less.

However, with such blessing comes duties to be done, and with the months having passed through all four seasons, the time has come for the newly settled Cluster to pay what tax it may owe.

At the fringes of the Demani's new fief, a path has been constructed, as was agreed upon for the purpose of the paying of taxes. From the rather barren rural cartway it runs alongside, the fief is entered immediately by a masonry path, though the stone in use would not be of familiar stock to whomever is deeded the right tax collection.

Likewise, the landscape would appear as foreign to the rolling dry grasses and the occasional flag, tuckamore, or knieholz known to the area by the locals. In its place, the signs of a changing ecosystem would already show apparent. Swaths of grasses absent from the hills, with small earthworks covered in shrubs and herbs cordon small ponds, saplings of trees sprouted far beyond the forest which the Cluster is told to have situated their settlement within.

History has a history, and that history is in it's study: historiography, or the history of history, is a surprisingly long running human habit. It has been seen in the ancient Greeks and the Chinese writings, and on Ashagon it has doubtlessly been going on as long. There have been plenty of people reading and writing, and while book binding probably does not have the standardization of slapping an author's name on the spine of the book, authors will never neglect to put their name on something. This practice of tracking authors, and where they were active, has formed the basis of Aelbic historiography, until the period of killing each other got very, very intense.

A small aside is necessary. The 'uniter', King Vaneric was only really able to go around killing and cowing everyone in the first place because social order in the Kingdom had disintegrated that badly. Wars had collapsed into cycles of revenge killing, with larger field actions slimming down into raids called chevauchee, with a focus on devastation and theft to make up for having been devastated oneself. This was ruinous for the practice of scholarship, which required peace, quiet, and full library that wasn't on fire or being robbed. Much practice of history had collapsed completely before the Uniter started Uniting people by kicking everyone's ass, until Vaneric brought along his own historians to record his asskicking session.

This was a fairly smart move, because it helped to restart the actual practice of historical studies. Even better, the King made sure to have his great deeds bragged about publicly, and left a system for his successor, Aeldebaric, to talk about his great deeds, too. Aeldebaric has made use of the criers the most, to carry the word about how good the Great Charter has been for the Kingdom, and then about how to obey it and report the nobles if they weren't adhering to it's strictures. He also had some officials accounts of events sent out, and his own histories written-the King won't look a gift horse in the mouth much.

All of this history work has one big point: legitimization of the current ruling person. Legitimization to the masses is often just being told that the King is awesome and cool and kicks faces in, along with a side of extra charity food, some benign neglect, and their boss being paid off a little bit. However, legitimization for smarter people will require supporting evidence, and who can better provide supporting evidence than people who are dead and can't argue with you? Probably someone who actually performed research, and the King's historians have both: they're able to cite better people, and many of these people are dead.

This helps quite a lot if your practice of history isn't very good, or if it simply isn't very exciting. Not having too many people look at your work helps you get away with things until after you are dead...and there are a lot of dead Aelish scholars. However, citing older people means that you can also study them, and critique them, and if you want to do more than simply talk about how cool King Al is, you have to do some legitimate scholarly work. There's little to do besides natural philosophy or the study of songs, but if you have historical accounts around you, then you can start to work on those. Lo and behold, you're doing historiography again!

In short, the recovery of Aelbic scholarship here was entirely funded by royalty for state purposes, with the explicit purpose of making the King look even cooler. This allowed historiography to be restarted as a practice as a side effect-a pleasant side effect, but not one that had been sought. However, it was an outcome of improved scholarship, which was starting to bubble up under the surface. With enough funding and some good peace, King Al was living up to the propaganda he had paid to spread. And now people were writing the tales of it. Happy accidents were once again the order of the day.