And then she shrugged.
2 The material that comprises the Ribs and Spine in Godsgrave is referred to as “gravebone,” though in truth, its tensile strength is stronger than steel. The secrets of working it were lost in time, though two high arkemists of the Iron Collegium are rumored to still possess them.
Though hollowed during the building of Godsgrave, the Ribs and Spine are now considered Itreyan treasures, and to deface them in any way is a crime punishable by crucifixion. Much of the gravebone acquired at the city’s dawn has been lost over centuries, and the material is considered a near-priceless commodity. That said, the elite cohorts of the Luminatii legion wear gravebone armor, and most wealthy and powerful familia are in possession of a few gravebone relics, usually blades and, in rare cases, jewelry. The kings of Itreya wore a gravebone crown, though it is now kept on a marble plinth in the Senate House, engraved with the words Nonquis Itarem.
“Never again.”
If you look closely, gentlefriend, you can see it is still stained with the blood of the last man to wear it.
3 I must specify, there are actually very few of these. The Luminatii are, for the most part, intent only upon crimes that upset the people who pay their wages—the Senate of Godsgrave. So long as the criminal elements of the city keep to killing themselves and staying below the Hips, the Senate could give less than a tinker’s cuss about the murder of an inkfiend who crossed the wrong people, or a pimp who bet the wrong gladiator in the arena. The Luminatii aren’t a tool of law and order in the Itreyan capital, gentlefriend. They are a tool of the status quo.
Still, accidents happen. And in those cases, you want to know someone who works at the Porkery.
4 Though you’ve no doubt heard stories about pigs eating wagon wheels or wooden legs and the owners they were attached to, tales about the legendary appetites of hogs are, for the most part, gross exaggerations. However, pigs shipped to the Porkery from the mainland are often starved for more than a week by the time they’re off-loaded, and after seven turns with naught but air to eat, the sight of a chopped-up Vaanian who owed a little too much money to the Wrong Sort of Chaps would look like a five-course meal to you too, gentlefriend.
There’s a famous yarn among Itreyan sailors about the Beatrice—a pork ship bound for Godsgrave—blown off course during a storm-washed truedark, and wrecked on an isle in the Sea of Silence. Twelve sailors survived the ruin, and yet, over the course of the next few weeks, the sailors mysteriously disappeared, one by one. Only a single mariner was rescued when the suns eventually rose. He was a cabin boy named Benio, who, when recovered by a passing Dweymeri trawler, swore that the rest of his fellows had been eaten by another of the wreck’s survivors—a ferocious sow who stalked the nights, devouring the hapless sailors one by one.
The mariners had apparently dubbed this pitiless porcine “Pinky.”
Upon his return to civilization, poor Benio lost his mind over a mornmeal of bacon and fried pork rolls, and spent the rest of his turns in Godsgrave Asylum. It’s said Pinky still roams the island, feasting on stranded sailors and baying at the sky when truedark falls.
Whether any of this is true, of course, remains a matter of drunken speculation on the decks of various pig ships. What is true, is that after learning from Mercurio what exactly went on at the Porkery at age thirteen, a young Mia Corvere swore off eating ham for the rest of her life.
5 Apothecaries theorize the imbalance of light and dark in Itreya is the cause of many public health issues, such as the increasing numbers of “dreamsick” sufferers cramming Godsgrave Asylum, and rising addiction levels to sedatives such as Swoon. Azurite spectacles are one of the few accepted remedies. The lenses are glass, tinted blue or green by arkemical processes, offsetting the glow of the dominant sun in the sky and sparing well-to-do citizens the worst of Aa’s fury.
There have been several state-sponsored commissions into broader-reaching health initiatives, but since it is almighty Aa’s will that his wife be banned from his sky for years at a stretch, even acknowledging the issue of light-related maladies can be construed as heresy. Thus, efforts to combat the issue are continually stymied by church loyalists in the Senate, not to mention lobbyists in the employ of the extraordinarily powerful Guild of Itreyan Curtainmakers.
Ah, democracy.
6 The tallest bridge in Godsgrave, originally known as the Bridge of Towers. Its new name and popularity as a suicide spot arose in 39PR, when the mistress of Grand Cardinal Bartolemew Albari—Francesca Delphi—leapt to her death from it during truedark Carnivalé. She was clad in full Carnivalé regalia, including a jewel-encrusted golden domino worth more than a small estate in upper Valentia.
Once news of her suicide spread, the search for her body, and more important, the mask she was wearing, led to several drownings, at least four stabbings, and a minor riot. The rumor mill whispered that Albari had promised to abandon his position within the church and wed his paramour before the truedark of 39 fell. When Albari failed to live up to his promise, the girl had dressed in the jewels he’d given her, written a note to her parents explaining the sordid affair, then leapt to her death.
Unfortunately for Cardinal Albari, Francesca’s father, Marcinus Delphi, was at that time a consul of the Republic. The scandal led to Albari being defrocked and publically scourged, and the former cardina0l ended up leaping from the very same bridge his mistress had died beneath. Over time, the story evolved into a tale of tragedy—two lovers, torn apart by society and consumed by their forbidden passions. Lovesick teenagers have been flinging themselves off the bridge ever since, and control of the riverbanks around the Bridge of Broken Promises (and thus, first right to loot their lovesick corpses) has been the cause of more than one gang war between local braavi.
Incidentally, Francesca’s mask and body were never found.
Not by anyone human, at any rate.
7 One of the oldest tavernas in Godsgrave, the Queen’s Bed was built and named by a particularly daring publican, Darius Cicerii, during the reign of Francisco XIII. Francisco’s queen, Donnatella, was known to be a woman of … appetites, and plebs took great delight in the ensuing innuendo. The conversation, inevitably, went something like this:
“Let us gather for liquid refreshment on the morrow, gentlefriend.”
“A splendid notion. But where shall we meet?”
“The Queen’s Bed?”
“I hear it is quite popular of late.”
(uproarious laughter goes here)
The taverna did a roaring trade as a result. When Francisco XIII was informed about the pub’s name at a royal banquet by his outraged bride, he was … less upset than Queen Donnatella had hoped. Indeed, the king was said to have raised his glass in toast to the publican, and commented to his guests, “Perhaps I shall visit the Queen’s Bed myself? Daughters know I have not seen the real thing for quite some time.”
(uncomfortable silence goes here)
Chapter 17: Steel
1 A branch of Aa’s church almost as old as the religion itself, the Confessionate is, as you may suspect, charged with rooting out heresy within the Republic. Chiefly concerning themselves with those who worship the Mother of Night, confessors are recruited from among the most zealous—or imbalanced—of Aa’s ministers. The current head of the Confessionate, Attia Fiorlini, went so far as to crucify her own husband on suspicion of heresy early in her career. Her superiors were duly impressed with her devotion, and her star rose quickly thereafter.
In actual fact, Attia trumped up charges against her beau after discovering he was diddling one of the maidservants.
Still, two birds with one stone …
Chapter 18: Scourge