Street Manuscript | Greycrown This Solstice Month: A Few Small Taboos of the Lower City

(This is a street manuscript, copied by word of mouth, hand to hand, through the teahouses of the lower city of Greycrown, and unverified.)

Crimson-Ring Calendar, year 1218, the Solstice Month. The snow in Greycrown came earlier than usual, and the people of the lower city say that this year the nobles' taboos are more numerous than usual too.

The manuscript bears no signature. Few can read it, and fewer still can carry it past the city walls. The following few items are gossip the copyist heard at 3 teahouses, 1 stable, and 2 pawnshops. Hear it and let it go; don't spread it to the upper city.

One: Yet Another Heir 'Died of Illness'

This winter, the upper city has already held a third funeral. The public accounts were, respectively: a fall from a horse, an old ailment, a misstep in a duel. No one in the lower city believes it. All three were young men, all heirs ranked near the front of some great house, and all died in their own residences. The old stable groom said only one thing and would say no more: 'The order in which they died is exactly the reverse of the order in which they ranked for succession.'

Two: A Servant Who Forgot His Master's Name Overnight

A residence in the west of the city dismissed an old servant who had served for 20 years. The reason was perfectly respectable: old age and frailty. Yet the pawnshop manager says that when the old servant came to pawn a silver clasp his master had bestowed on him, the manager casually asked who his master was, and after thinking a long while, he could only say 'a person who wears a family crest' — he couldn't even recall the surname. The manager lowered his voice: 'It's not senility. There are houses that can take away even what you remember and what you don't.'

Three: The Black Markings Beneath the Sleeve

The tailor shops of the lower city have lately taken on a fair amount of work from the upper city, all of it alterations to the cuffs. An embroideress said privately that these nobles often have streaks of black markings from the back of the hand to the wrist, like burns, or like tattoos, that won't wash off and can only be covered with a sleeve. 'They call it ‘the family's price',' the embroideress said, 'but no one ever says clearly who the price is paid to.'

Four: The Gambling House Won't Take Certain People's Bets

The gambling house on River Street set a new rule this past month: anyone bearing a certain family's crest will not be allowed to place a bet. The proprietor explained only half a sentence — when those people bet on the dice, they can change their minds before the dice settle. 'Gambling with them, I lose to time, not to luck.'

Five: An Old Saying

On the manuscript's last line, the copyist added one more sentence, said to be what the old stable groom muttered before he left. The copyist didn't understand it either, but felt it ought to be written down:

The Myriad Dao is flawed — everyone in this city knows it; only no one dares finish the latter half of the sentence.

— The manuscript ends here. Whoever can read this far, take it as idle chatter for a winter's night. Don't ask who the copyist is, and don't ask what that latter half of the sentence is.