by Carmel Rechnitzer
To all my dear citizens, each a beloved subject deserving of praise!
It is my pleasure to announce that the esteemed Lady Solomonia Suboruvya and the peerless Signore Constanzo Scarpa have donated their efforts for this year’s Festival of Fools! The craftsmen of the Ussura district shall supply us with parade floats and carnival games. The Vodacce district will supply us with merriment and wine.
Our recent City Vote opted for, much to the relief of my beleaguered heart, full clemency for the recent madness and villainy that overtook our streets. Behind the scenes, I have coordinated with the pious Bishop Cortez, and the stalwart Guard Commander Ulrich. We are prepared to offer Writs of Clemency to any scoundrelous man, wretched woman, and reprobate child in our fine City.
Never a man to waste an opportunity, I think it best that we celebrate these two events in tandem. The following week (culminating in the Festival of Fools) shall contain a myriad of arranged festivities, and opportunity for merry mischief. To prevent the mindful criminal from seizing the following week as an opportunity to sin at large, and receive clemency after… I am announcing open season on a select few sins (and Bishop Cortez, I pray you forgive me.)
Any man engaged in violence or pillage within the next five days will not see Clemency. In fact, with Clemency offered, the City is constricting her grip on crimes of assault and larceny. Any bandit, cut purse or thug can expect the coarse embrace of a rope around their neck. This is no open door to continue the violence, or a deadline for schemes to come to fruit.
Instead, I humbly ask that we all blow out our steam in productive displays of the following:
- Passion – Bishop Cortez will offer a marriage ceremony and writ to all lovers, regardless of their parent’s blessings.
- Wit – all forms of mummery, theater, and comedy are granted a right to performance, even if the subject matter is salacious or insulting to good taste.
- Fortune – No tax will be charged on games of gambling, either to the player or the proverbial “House.”
- Artistry – the EXTERIOR walls of all public houses of governance are open to painted vandalry. Smear your slogans and insults, or bless us with beauty.
- Endurance – We will not be enforcing curfew. Burn your candle wicks to the last, boys and girls.
- Joy – We will issue no fine, and break no friendly gathering, regardless of the drunkenness displayed or the volume of your singing.
- Entrepreneurship – During the upcoming days, Vice Taxes on alcohol, stupefying incense, sugars, cacao, and tobacco are suspended.
I am extending these gifts to you in hope that we all RESPECTFULLY PREPARE FOR CLEMENCY.
Please, my wise and gorgeous citizenry, do not abuse this act of charity. Let us all be merry, after these weeks of hardship and hate.
With all do love and great anticipation,
Your Mayor
Claude de la Roche.
“You give an inch, and they’ll take a mile,” said Wilhelm Dunst declared. “Sinners don’t follow rules by their rotten nature. They’ll not stop at ‘passion’ or ‘endurance.’ This shall end in misery.”
”But, Her Dunst, this will play to our favor,” Kaspar explained, flexing his newly recovered arm. All around them, Eisen’s elite soldiers were fitting into their new uniforms, exchanging wartime pauldrons and plates for starched textiles. The new suits were crisp, handsome even. Instead of looking like wartime invaders, his men now looked… local. Professional. Like a garrison of bureaucrats ready to help.
It had been Daniella’s idea. Their “occupation” had been too aggressive, too militant. They had scared the citizens of Five Sails. It was a bitter truth to swallow… Kaspar knew the worth of his honor, the value of his help. He was also loathe to adopt fanciful Montaigne customs. But the Musketeer’s tabards hid their steel, making them easier to accept despite their lack of district. Everyone in town loved Jean Urbain’s crew of wine-soaked philanderers.
Five Sails loved color, loved sleek, loved fashion. His veterans could accommodate their taste. And the new uniforms’ red and blue sash-belts could still accommodate a saber and pistol for each man.
“When the witches and warlocks of five sails inevitably crawl from their covens this week,” Kaspar promised his longtime lieutenant, “they’ll feel safe amid the revelry. There will be no better time to hunt them.”
”It was my husband’s insistence, darling,” Solomonia Subnorova said. “ His new, glowing crystal eye certainly makes makes it impossible for me to fall asleep… But it does catch glimpses of the future. We’ve foreseen quite the opportunity.”
Ekaterina could not quite put her doubts to rest. She understood… or rather, was currently the closest person alive… to understanding the natures of Syrne’s mysterious artefacts. Years of careful study had proved time and again that their power was fickle, playful, obtuse. Syrne magics used you as much as you used them.
Nature could not devise a more confident pair of man or woman than Yevgeni and Solomonia. Ekaterina resolved to be the proverbial dove on their shoulders – play her role opposite that damned Temnota – and provide them with wisdom, compassion, and most importantly? Caution. It seemed an impossible task. But Ekaterina had observed the impossible for her profession.
“So what’s the catch? What incredible scheme have your Father and Cesca put together?” Burratino pried.
”Better not to ask,” insisted Servo. “The Coven is giggling like Theus himself is caught in their web. I intend to ignore them, and spend this week feasting, fleecing, fighting, and fornicating. If I remember what happens next week, I’ll consider it a failure.”
The Red Hand thugs laughed like a pack of hyenas looking forward to the hunt. Andriana Dondolo envied them. She’d also been born a rotten guttersnipe. If she had the power to forge her own Fate, she’d spend the next week rolling in the metaphorical mud right beside them. But she had the power to twist the Fate of others. That forced her into Cesca del Rosso’s service.
Instead of food, fraud or floozies… She’d be spending next week neck deep in arcana decks and arcane deviltry.
“This is insulting, honestly,” Henri Micheleltte grumbled. “Our comrade dies, and the City celebrates. Regardless of the fact that our condition for clemency is unfulfilled. How dare they announce this with El Gato still at large?”
”I helped organize the whole affair,” admitted Odette Dubois de’Arrent. “We haven’t caught sight or sound of El Gato since the night of the vote… but such a ripe opportunity for misbehavior is sure to draw the kitty out.”
Henri wasn’t surprised by Odette’s confession. They all desperately wanted revenge. He had his rifle, Urbain his sword, and so on… What did Odette have? A sharp mind. If anyone could out-trick El Gato, it could only be her.
Inviting Angeline Demone – the Butcher herself – to come along for the cathunt, though? That had surprised him. Odette was as brave as any woman of the Montaigne court… But it took another kind of bravery all-together to pick such a double-sided sword as a dueling instrument.
“Heist?” Asked Sanjay, holding a copy of de le Rochie’s ridiculous announcement. Their current burglary – stealing every item Mayor Claude’s closet to signal the City’s newest ‘emperor’ wore no clothes – was going swimmingly. Sanjay had never worn a more comfortable pair of socks. The rhinestone codpiece was even funnier to don than it was to observe. The thrill of poetic vengeance was turning him bolder.
”Absolutely, heist,” answered Soline, dumping another armfull of priceless wigs into a sack. The cardinal rule of the Cat’s Paw Gang had always been be smart. Performing daring heists back-to-back-to-back was not smart. Caution meant laying low between crimes. It meant maintaining their mystery when least expected.
But the City was hunting them anyway. Every eye and every sword in this heartless town was pointed their way, desperately seeking Clemency. If Sanjay and Soline could find no peace… They certainly wouldn’t let Five Sails find it either.